#(so if you were following them there you might not know that they have a ton more music under bbhf)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Bossware is unfair (in the legal sense, too)

You can get into a lot of trouble by assuming that rich people know what they're doing. For example, might assume that ad-tech works – bypassing peoples' critical faculties, reaching inside their minds and brainwashing them with Big Data insights, because if that's not what's happening, then why would rich people pour billions into those ads?

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/06/surveillance-tulip-bulbs/#adtech-bubble

You might assume that private equity looters make their investors rich, because otherwise, why would rich people hand over trillions for them to play with?

https://thenextrecession.wordpress.com/2024/11/19/private-equity-vampire-capital/

The truth is, rich people are suckers like the rest of us. If anything, succeeding once or twice makes you an even bigger mark, with a sense of your own infallibility that inflates to fill the bubble your yes-men seal you inside of.

Rich people fall for scams just like you and me. Anyone can be a mark. I was:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/05/cyber-dunning-kruger/#swiss-cheese-security

But though rich people can fall for scams the same way you and I do, the way those scams play out is very different when the marks are wealthy. As Keynes had it, "The market can remain irrational longer than you can remain solvent." When the marks are rich (or worse, super-rich), they can be played for much longer before they go bust, creating the appearance of solidity.

Noted Keynesian John Kenneth Galbraith had his own thoughts on this. Galbraith coined the term "bezzle" to describe "the magic interval when a confidence trickster knows he has the money he has appropriated but the victim does not yet understand that he has lost it." In that magic interval, everyone feels better off: the mark thinks he's up, and the con artist knows he's up.

Rich marks have looong bezzles. Empirically incorrect ideas grounded in the most outrageous superstition and junk science can take over whole sections of your life, simply because a rich person – or rich people – are convinced that they're good for you.

Take "scientific management." In the early 20th century, the con artist Frederick Taylor convinced rich industrialists that he could increase their workers' productivity through a kind of caliper-and-stopwatch driven choreographry:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/21/great-taylors-ghost/#solidarity-or-bust

Taylor and his army of labcoated sadists perched at the elbows of factory workers (whom Taylor referred to as "stupid," "mentally sluggish," and as "an ox") and scripted their motions to a fare-the-well, transforming their work into a kind of kabuki of obedience. They weren't more efficient, but they looked smart, like obedient robots, and this made their bosses happy. The bosses shelled out fortunes for Taylor's services, even though the workers who followed his prescriptions were less efficient and generated fewer profits. Bosses were so dazzled by the spectacle of a factory floor of crisply moving people interfacing with crisply working machines that they failed to understand that they were losing money on the whole business.

To the extent they noticed that their revenues were declining after implementing Taylorism, they assumed that this was because they needed more scientific management. Taylor had a sweet con: the worse his advice performed, the more reasons their were to pay him for more advice.

Taylorism is a perfect con to run on the wealthy and powerful. It feeds into their prejudice and mistrust of their workers, and into their misplaced confidence in their own ability to understand their workers' jobs better than their workers do. There's always a long dollar to be made playing the "scientific management" con.

Today, there's an app for that. "Bossware" is a class of technology that monitors and disciplines workers, and it was supercharged by the pandemic and the rise of work-from-home. Combine bossware with work-from-home and your boss gets to control your life even when in your own place – "work from home" becomes "live at work":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/24/gwb-rumsfeld-monsters/#bossware

Gig workers are at the white-hot center of bossware. Gig work promises "be your own boss," but bossware puts a Taylorist caliper wielder into your phone, monitoring and disciplining you as you drive your wn car around delivering parcels or picking up passengers.

In automation terms, a worker hitched to an app this way is a "reverse centaur." Automation theorists call a human augmented by a machine a "centaur" – a human head supported by a machine's tireless and strong body. A "reverse centaur" is a machine augmented by a human – like the Amazon delivery driver whose app goads them to make inhuman delivery quotas while punishing them for looking in the "wrong" direction or even singing along with the radio:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/02/despotism-on-demand/#virtual-whips

Bossware pre-dates the current AI bubble, but AI mania has supercharged it. AI pumpers insist that AI can do things it positively cannot do – rolling out an "autonomous robot" that turns out to be a guy in a robot suit, say – and rich people are groomed to buy the services of "AI-powered" bossware:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/29/pay-no-attention/#to-the-little-man-behind-the-curtain

For an AI scammer like Elon Musk or Sam Altman, the fact that an AI can't do your job is irrelevant. From a business perspective, the only thing that matters is whether a salesperson can convince your boss that an AI can do your job – whether or not that's true:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/25/accountability-sinks/#work-harder-not-smarter

The fact that AI can't do your job, but that your boss can be convinced to fire you and replace you with the AI that can't do your job, is the central fact of the 21st century labor market. AI has created a world of "algorithmic management" where humans are demoted to reverse centaurs, monitored and bossed about by an app.

The techbro's overwhelming conceit is that nothing is a crime, so long as you do it with an app. Just as fintech is designed to be a bank that's exempt from banking regulations, the gig economy is meant to be a workplace that's exempt from labor law. But this wheeze is transparent, and easily pierced by enforcers, so long as those enforcers want to do their jobs. One such enforcer is Alvaro Bedoya, an FTC commissioner with a keen interest in antitrust's relationship to labor protection.

Bedoya understands that antitrust has a checkered history when it comes to labor. As he's written, the history of antitrust is a series of incidents in which Congress revised the law to make it clear that forming a union was not the same thing as forming a cartel, only to be ignored by boss-friendly judges:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/14/aiming-at-dollars/#not-men

Bedoya is no mere historian. He's an FTC Commissioner, one of the most powerful regulators in the world, and he's profoundly interested in using that power to help workers, especially gig workers, whose misery starts with systemic, wide-scale misclassification as contractors:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/02/upward-redistribution/

In a new speech to NYU's Wagner School of Public Service, Bedoya argues that the FTC's existing authority allows it to crack down on algorithmic management – that is, algorithmic management is illegal, even if you break the law with an app:

https://www.ftc.gov/system/files/ftc_gov/pdf/bedoya-remarks-unfairness-in-workplace-surveillance-and-automated-management.pdf

Bedoya starts with a delightful analogy to The Hawtch-Hawtch, a mythical town from a Dr Seuss poem. The Hawtch-Hawtch economy is based on beekeeping, and the Hawtchers develop an overwhelming obsession with their bee's laziness, and determine to wring more work (and more honey) out of him. So they appoint a "bee-watcher." But the bee doesn't produce any more honey, which leads the Hawtchers to suspect their bee-watcher might be sleeping on the job, so they hire a bee-watcher-watcher. When that doesn't work, they hire a bee-watcher-watcher-watcher, and so on and on.

For gig workers, it's bee-watchers all the way down. Call center workers are subjected to "AI" video monitoring, and "AI" voice monitoring that purports to measure their empathy. Another AI times their calls. Two more AIs analyze the "sentiment" of the calls and the success of workers in meeting arbitrary metrics. On average, a call-center worker is subjected to five forms of bossware, which stand at their shoulders, marking them down and brooking no debate.

For example, when an experienced call center operator fielded a call from a customer with a flooded house who wanted to know why no one from her boss's repair plan system had come out to address the flooding, the operator was punished by the AI for failing to try to sell the customer a repair plan. There was no way for the operator to protest that the customer had a repair plan already, and had called to complain about it.

Workers report being sickened by this kind of surveillance, literally – stressed to the point of nausea and insomnia. Ironically, one of the most pervasive sources of automation-driven sickness are the "AI wellness" apps that bosses are sold by AI hucksters:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/15/wellness-taylorism/#sick-of-spying

The FTC has broad authority to block "unfair trade practices," and Bedoya builds the case that this is an unfair trade practice. Proving an unfair trade practice is a three-part test: a practice is unfair if it causes "substantial injury," can't be "reasonably avoided," and isn't outweighed by a "countervailing benefit." In his speech, Bedoya makes the case that algorithmic management satisfies all three steps and is thus illegal.

On the question of "substantial injury," Bedoya describes the workday of warehouse workers working for ecommerce sites. He describes one worker who is monitored by an AI that requires him to pick and drop an object off a moving belt every 10 seconds, for ten hours per day. The worker's performance is tracked by a leaderboard, and supervisors punish and scold workers who don't make quota, and the algorithm auto-fires if you fail to meet it.

Under those conditions, it was only a matter of time until the worker experienced injuries to two of his discs and was permanently disabled, with the company being found 100% responsible for this injury. OSHA found a "direct connection" between the algorithm and the injury. No wonder warehouses sport vending machines that sell painkillers rather than sodas. It's clear that algorithmic management leads to "substantial injury."

What about "reasonably avoidable?" Can workers avoid the harms of algorithmic management? Bedoya describes the experience of NYC rideshare drivers who attended a round-table with him. The drivers describe logging tens of thousands of successful rides for the apps they work for, on promise of "being their own boss." But then the apps start randomly suspending them, telling them they aren't eligible to book a ride for hours at a time, sending them across town to serve an underserved area and still suspending them. Drivers who stop for coffee or a pee are locked out of the apps for hours as punishment, and so drive 12-hour shifts without a single break, in hopes of pleasing the inscrutable, high-handed app.

All this, as drivers' pay is falling and their credit card debts are mounting. No one will explain to drivers how their pay is determined, though the legal scholar Veena Dubal's work on "algorithmic wage discrimination" reveals that rideshare apps temporarily increase the pay of drivers who refuse rides, only to lower it again once they're back behind the wheel:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

This is like the pit boss who gives a losing gambler some freebies to lure them back to the table, over and over, until they're broke. No wonder they call this a "casino mechanic." There's only two major rideshare apps, and they both use the same high-handed tactics. For Bedoya, this satisfies the second test for an "unfair practice" – it can't be reasonably avoided. If you drive rideshare, you're trapped by the harmful conduct.

The final prong of the "unfair practice" test is whether the conduct has "countervailing value" that makes up for this harm.

To address this, Bedoya goes back to the call center, where operators' performance is assessed by "Speech Emotion Recognition" algorithms, a psuedoscientific hoax that purports to be able to determine your emotions from your voice. These SERs don't work – for example, they might interpret a customer's laughter as anger. But they fail differently for different kinds of workers: workers with accents – from the American south, or the Philippines – attract more disapprobation from the AI. Half of all call center workers are monitored by SERs, and a quarter of workers have SERs scoring them "constantly."

Bossware AIs also produce transcripts of these workers' calls, but workers with accents find them "riddled with errors." These are consequential errors, since their bosses assess their performance based on the transcripts, and yet another AI produces automated work scores based on them.

In other words, algorithmic management is a procession of bee-watchers, bee-watcher-watchers, and bee-watcher-watcher-watchers, stretching to infinity. It's junk science. It's not producing better call center workers. It's producing arbitrary punishments, often against the best workers in the call center.

There is no "countervailing benefit" to offset the unavoidable substantial injury of life under algorithmic management. In other words, algorithmic management fails all three prongs of the "unfair practice" test, and it's illegal.

What should we do about it? Bedoya builds the case for the FTC acting on workers' behalf under its "unfair practice" authority, but he also points out that the lack of worker privacy is at the root of this hellscape of algorithmic management.

He's right. The last major update Congress made to US privacy law was in 1988, when they banned video-store clerks from telling the newspapers which VHS cassettes you rented. The US is long overdue for a new privacy regime, and workers under algorithmic management are part of a broad coalition that's closer than ever to making that happen:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/06/privacy-first/#but-not-just-privacy

Workers should have the right to know which of their data is being collected, who it's being shared by, and how it's being used. We all should have that right. That's what the actors' strike was partly motivated by: actors who were being ordered to wear mocap suits to produce data that could be used to produce a digital double of them, "training their replacement," but the replacement was a deepfake.

With a Trump administration on the horizon, the future of the FTC is in doubt. But the coalition for a new privacy law includes many of Trumpland's most powerful blocs – like Jan 6 rioters whose location was swept up by Google and handed over to the FBI. A strong privacy law would protect their Fourth Amendment rights – but also the rights of BLM protesters who experienced this far more often, and with far worse consequences, than the insurrectionists.

The "we do it with an app, so it's not illegal" ruse is wearing thinner by the day. When you have a boss for an app, your real boss gets an accountability sink, a convenient scapegoat that can be blamed for your misery.

The fact that this makes you worse at your job, that it loses your boss money, is no guarantee that you will be spared. Rich people make great marks, and they can remain irrational longer than you can remain solvent. Markets won't solve this one – but worker power can.

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[moonsgemini]

nobody knows - rafe cameron

summary: a secret relationship between the kook king the sweet innocent kook & bathroom sex

warnings: 18+, cursing, reader being jealous, alcohol, SMUT, slight choking, semi public sex, pinv

an: hiiii hope y’all enjoy <3 this is a lil shorter than my usual stuff. I need drew starkey bad !! Might turn this into it’s own lil universe

-

This party was going to kill you. The scene in front of you calling for you to do something irrational. It was almost as if he wanted you to accidentally spill wine on Lindsey’s head.

The way her hand constantly found a place on his bicep has you gripping your glass a little tighter. The friendly smile on Rafe’s lips not helping ease your jealousy. Neither was the way he kept leaning down so he could hear her better, as if they were at a rave. It was a fairly small party for crying out loud there was no need for that.

If you had super powers the entire back yard would be lit up in flames with the way you were glaring at the pair. Of course he also wore that shirt you loved on him. The one you had mentioned on multiple occasions that it was your favorite.

You wished you could go over there and yank him down by the collar and smush your lips against his. Let everyone know that it’s your name he’s moaning at night and his lips and body that have your coming undone almost every night.

You wished everyone knew exactly what was going on between them. Then you wouldn’t have to disguise your jealousy as a head ache. You knew it was because of you that the two of you snuck around but you’re starting to want things to change. You couldn’t stand the sight of your man giving another woman attention.

“Garrett is such a dick I can’t believe I didn’t dump him sooner,” Her friend Nessa mumbled.

She hummed and nodded in agreement while finishing off the last of her wine. Not really paying attention to what her friend was saying.

“You’ve been quiet today. More than usual, all good?” Your friend Nessa asked.

You nodded, “Yeah just have a head ache again.”

“Then lets get you another glass, being drunk will help with that,” Nessa grabbed your hand. She led you back over to the small cocktail bar that was set up which was right past Rafe and Lindsey.

As the pair of you passed them you pretended not to see Rafe. Obviously Rafe’s eyes followed you, not really paying attention to whatever the girl in front of him had been yapping about.

He was trying this new thing where he wasn’t going to be an asshole to people. Unless they deserved it obviously, but it was really fucking hard when all he wanted to do was talk to you. The old him would have just ditched her mid sentence but that’s not who he wanted to be.

He watched as you poured yourself some more wine, your friend going on about something as you nodded along. His pretty girl always being the best listener.

After a minute you said something to your friend before walking into the house. After a few seconds Rafe said something about going to the bathroom and left the babbling blonde behind. He didn’t care he wanted to find you.

When he stepped inside he saw your half empty wine glass on the kitchen counter. He walked down the hall to the guest bathroom and knocked.

“I’ll be out in a minute Ness!” You shouted from behind the door.

“It’s Rafe,” he said.

The locked clicked and the door opened to reveal your pretty frame. You had chosen to wear that dress he loves in the color he loves on you. He wasn’t the only one who chose what they’re wearing for a specific reason. You poked your head out and looked both ways before tugging him inside by the collar of his shirt. He chuckled at your antics

“Don’t you think it looks more suspicious if we’re in here together?” He smirked with a raised brow. In all honesty he didn’t really give a fuck if people saw you two together but he knows you aren’t ready.

You rolled your eyes, “It’s not like you were flirting it up out there with Lindsey.”

His smirk widened at the realization that you were jealous. He liked how around everyone you were always sweet and polite, sometimes even a little timid. But with him it was a different story. He loved the way you talked back to him and rolled your eyes at him. He loved the dirty things that sweet innocent mouth said to him when he was relentlessly fucking you.

“You jealous baby?” He stepped forward so the small of your back hit the counter.

Your scowl deepened as you crossed your arms, “No.”

He reach up stroked your cheek gently. His eyes going down to your lips, “You being a tough girl now. Come on baby you know she doesn’t have anything on you.”

Your scowl softened, “Well it doesn’t matter because it’s not like she knows that.”

Rafe leaned forward and kissed your cheek then your jaw and continued his way down to your pulse point, “I’ll let her know, we can let everyone know princess. I can fuck you right here right now.”

You gasped at his words and at the scrape of his teeth on the sensitive skin of your neck, “Rafe,” you practically moaned.

“Doesn’t sound like you’re too opposed to that,” His finger slipped under your dresses strap and pulled it down. His lips kissing the newly exposed skin as he went down to your chest, “Make you scream my name as I bend you over.”

You wanted to talk back to him but you couldn’t as your eyes fluttered shut. His hands had moved down your waist and to your thighs. Slowly dragging his fingertips up them until he plucked at your stringy underwear letting it snap back against your skin. He made you such an incoherent mess and you loved it.

With everything in you you mustered back a reply, “You sure you want Lindsey to hear.”

He chuckled against the top of your breasts that were exposed. His fingers now pressing against your wet clothed cunt.

“It seems like you want her to hear baby,” He pressed his fingers against your clit and rubbed soft circles, “look at how wet you are huh. My dirty girl.”

A whimper escaped your lips at the sensation. His fingers slipped under your tiny panties and he slid them through your sopping cunt and groaned against your neck, “God I love how you feel.”

You tugged his face up to meet your desperate eyes as you pulled him in for a kiss. You both moaned at the feeling. You loved when Rafe fucked you but you loved kissing him even more. His fingers picked up the pace a little against your throbbing clit. You could feel your wetness dripping down your legs.

“Please let me fuck you right here baby,” He mumbled against your lips, “I’ll do it so good. I’ll make you cum all over my cock.”

That whole being more nice thing Rafe was working on never applied to you. You were probably the only person on the island who had ever heard the kook king say please and thank you. Sometimes he even practically begged to fuck you or eat you out. You lived for it. It made your skin tingle and your tummy flutter.

You nodded your head, “Yes Rafey.”

He pulled his fingers away from you and practically shoved them into your mouth. You loved it though, tasting yourself on his long thick fingers. Your tongue licking them clean. He bit his lip and groaned with hooded eyes. Rafe was utterly obsessed with you.

He pulled his fingers out with a pop and leaned in capturing your mouth in his in another searing kiss. It was sloppy and made your head spin. He pulled away spinning you around. Your hands landed on the counter to steady yourself as he hiked your dress up to your waist.

Rafe gave your ass a firm squeeze and took a few seconds to admire you on this position. He loved that he could still see your pretty face in the mirror, he could see just how fucked you were for him. Your swollen lips, hooded eyes, and messy hair all because of him. It made his heart beat faster and his ego grow. He loves that no one else has known you in this way until he came around.

You watched as he began to undo his pants and pull his thick cock out. You whimpered at the sight of him stroking himself a few times. Grabbing the tiny string of your panties he pulled it to the side before lining himself up with you.

“You’re a fucking dream,” He groaned as he slipped his tip in. The warm wetness of your pussy making him throw his head back. Slowly he slotted himself in you. The feeling of you clenching around him already getting him so close.

“Fuck you’re coming home with me,” He groaned as he began moving in and out.

You nodded with hazy lust filled eyes. You’d do anything he asked of you. The feeling of him stretching you out was out of this world. You didn’t understand how he was always able to hit that spot that had your back arching and mouth forming into an o.

He fucked you as quietly as he could. Rafe didn’t give a fuck if people heard but he knew you did. It’s not like you were embarrassed of Rafe and he knew that. It would just make things complicated if people knew. There’d be constant prying and knit picking at everything you two did and how you acted.

“Oh Rafe,” you mumbled standing up so your back was against his chest. He groaned and wrapped one of his hands around your throat. Your head fell back against his shoulder.

Rafe’s other hand found it’s way to your chest. He pinched one of your nipples and squeezed your breast. He did the same thing to the other one before sliding down your stomach and to your clit. He rubbed circles as he continued to thrust into you.

He moved the hand that was around your throat to hold your jaw. Tugging your head down to look in the mirror.

“You see that baby, He nodded towards your reflection, “see how good you look when I’m inside you. My girl takes me so damn well.”

“I-I mmmph oh Rafe,” you mumbled incoherently but he knew what you were trying to say. He could tell you were close by the way you tightened around him and the way you dripping down him.

“I know,” He groaned, “I’m there too.” A loud moan began escaping you but rafe moved his hand up quickly to cover your mouth.

“Shit look at you, no one will ever compare. Fuck I’m all yours,” He grunted.

Your moans were muffled by his big hand as you came. He wasn’t farm behind as he buried his face in your neck as he came inside you.

“Well we’ve never done that before,” you giggled.

He huffed a laugh, “I’m pretty sure we’ve done that plenty of times before.”

You shook your head, “We’ve never done it in a bathroom at a party.”

He smirked as he pulled out of you and adjusting your clothes for you. He gave your ass a gentle slap, “I should make you jealous more often.”

You rolled your eyes and turned around to face him, “So what if I was jealous.”

He kissed you, “You have nothing to be jealous of. I’m yours.”

You smiled softly as your heart swelled, “Rafe maybe we should tell people.”

His eyes widened slightly, “Really?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his excitement, “mhmm I want to go on dates here in town. I want to be the one who has your attention all night and when I get too drunk you drive me home.”

He smiled, “Sounds perfect.”

After fixing yourselves to look presentable again you opened the door and led Rafe out not really thinking. But before you could even step through the doorway you were face to face with Lindsey who had a scowl on her face.

“Finally,” she rolled her eyes but then she saw the person standing behind you, “oh that’s where you disappeared to?” that scowl never leaving her.

Rafe nodded with a smirk, “My girl needed me.”

You blushed as you stepped past her with Rafe’s hand in yours with smiles plastered on both your faces.

[dilf-docs]

All Roads Lead To Rome

pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: your boyfriend swears he isn't annoyed at your little surprise visit on the set of gladiator II; you might have to help him release his anger, one way... or another.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (BARK BARK BARK), smut, p. in v., bit of exhibition kink cause they fuck on his trailer, he swears he's mad but he just wants head, oral (m. receiving), he also uses his armor and skirt while at it bc its hot and not bc i totally want that to happen to me or smth!!!, brat taming, orgasm denial, breeding and daddy kink lowkey, i'm so down bad for him so there's fluff!!! + pedro being whipped cause that's exactly what i want in my men, the cast makes cameos bc i love them!!! use of spanish (i'm latina so don't even try me), pedro wearing a skirt tehee

word count: 3,519 words

side note: i'm about as FERAL and horny as much as one could be!!! damn u pedro, making me walk out in the middle of class and walk on foot to the nearest theather for an early gladiator II screening (bc they're cheaper and i'm a jobless broke student lmao) that mind u it's my first solo trip to the movies but it's okay!!!! nobody interrupt me on my horny dilf hours amirite I TELL U that cinema was almost empty: just me, pedro and hey there's a spot if u wanna join mescal (look at my blog banner IYKYK) so yeah!!!! enjoy this porn lovechild that steemed from it; my pedro renaissance that'd been asleep since tlou dropped AWAKES (u don't get it, i literally watched narcos just for him) i'm so fr i need this man BIBLICALLY!!

"Lemme guess, that's her, right?"

Pedro looks up from his phone, slightly red and embarrassed. He would blame the color on the sun, and as an actor, fake his way out.

"No idea what you're talking about, Paul"

The young man chuckles.

"I mean, every break we get, you take your chair, sit the farthest and pull your phone with the most ridiculous grin I've ever seen. I'm afraid to tell you, friend, you aren't as slick as you think"

He leans back against the chair, covering his face with his large palm.

"At least I tried" he finds no point in lying anymore, "seems like I'm addicted, but if it wasn't for y/n, I wouldn't touch it"

"I'm curious, though" Paul scoots his chair closer, "who texts who? You or her?"

"Me" he answers, but then corrects himself quickly, a bit ashamed of how that makes him sound, "but it's mostly her first".

"Right" he doesn't sound convinced, rather curious and annoyed, something he's too old and tired for, "I don't believe you"

He's about to lock his phone, but the wallpaper (a selfie with you) would probably earn him another mock from Mescal.

"Too bad I don't need you to"

Before he can do so, the irish man yanks his phone away.

"Give it back!" he shouts, earning a few glances from the crew around them, "what are you, ten?"

"No, twenty-eight" they look like kids bickering. "No need to fight me, Mr. Pascal, they haven't taught us the new fighting choreography yet" he mocks, before the phone chimes; they both stop at the sound.

"What does this mean?" Paul asks. "Malta's nice" he reads out loud, "were you talking about possible future vacations? I might have to tag along"

He doesn't follow the man's joke, instead, looking at the message on your chat. Malta's nice, says the little cryptic message, and yes―it is cryptic, because you were just talking about missing each other and some other corny stuff he'd take to his grave. Not vacations, and certainly, not about the european island, which happens to also be the place were he's filming his latest movie.

"No, we weren't" he replies confused, "what do you think it means?"

"Well, obviously, you boys don't know anything" May pops up from behind, laughing.

"Were you eavesdropping?" he asks playfully, albeit, a little offended.

"No, you guys are just too loud" she replies nonchalant. "Besides, you aren't very good at hiding it, either"

"That's what I said!" Paul backs, laughing on his face.

"Stop being misterious and just drop it"

"It means" she pauses―laughing at her own little dramatic effect, "that you're getting a visit soon"

When you met Pedro, you were working in The Last Of Us. Nothing fancy, just part of the technical cast of the show: helping with the filming and stuff.

During those months, it was easy to find yourself falling for the main star (alongside Bella Ramsey), especially when you spent months behind a camera, capturing all of his perfect features; learning them by memory until you could draw them without seeing his face.

Yes, you had fallen for the older man, because it was as natural as breathing; easy as being alive―the fall so gentle and so easy, it was hard to know when the feelings started. You just woke up one day, feeling different.

You liked to act up―always had what you wanted, and times had changed (so it's not like he had to ask first): why not? Which is why during your last day of shooting you took some liquid courage on your veins and went up his way. It was at a little gathering the crew you've grown to call family organized, while wearing your favorite and tightest dress, that you approached him.

It surprised you that he even recognized you, but that's who he was: warm, welcoming and caring.

To augment the surprise, turns out he had eyed you already, but was too shy to do anything. Yes, the worlds most famous Chilean man. It did stroke your ego, and maybe that's why you feel like most of the time, you've got the upper hand on your relationship, despite the years in between.

You know your boyfriend isn't exactly the type to scold or get mad―despite his strong figure, but going against the only thing he asked you might test him. Which is why you feel nervous, despite the happiness around you, everyone in the airport looking straight out of a picture perfect summer edition magazine.

Still, you feel like the last message you just sent was a bit too blunt. Now you sit at the tiny airport, pondering your next move.

And your theory is proven exactly right when you arrive impromptu at the Gladiator II set: making heads turn and guards almost kick you out, thinking you're a fan.

"You don't get it!" you protest, "he's my boyfriend".

"Sure", they laugh on your face. "you're not the first to say that".

"She's not lying" oh, how you love that gravely voice. But not today: not when he sounds like a parent scolding a naive child. Not when his eyes bore into you, slightly irritated.

So now he's dragging you among the set, right to were his trailer is.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" you ask, puffing your cheeks out in annoyance. He keeps dragging you by the arm, without sparing a glance in your way. Who does he think he is? "I wanted to tell Paul he made me cry―twice. You know I don't play about Normal People and Aftersun"

"But you do seem to play about my orders" he grunts out, opening the door to his trailer. The sunlight reflects against the white, slightly bothering your eyes with its shine, contrary to your boyfriend's gloomy behaviour.

"Are you being serious right now? You're not my dad to scold me. I just wanted to surprise you" you stand still, refusing to get inside. Pedro knows your character tends to be stubborn, and thought he finds it hot to reel you up sometimes, there are other times where he can't just stand that juvenile spirit of rage you tend to have when things don't go the way you want them to. "What's gotten into you?"

"I could ask you the same" he mocks. "Get inside. Now"

"Rude" you scoff, but obey regardless, and he breathes out relieved you didn't do a scene like last time; he still can't show his face on that restaurant to this day.

"I thought you'd be happy to see me" you say a tad bit dissapointed, and Pascal feels the pissed off feelings clouding his brain start to dissipate.

"I do, amor" he sighs, "just hate to see you do things I tell you not to; waltzing in here like you own the place".

You don't see the mistake, though. What's wrong with wanting to do a little surprise? It's not like you were a stalker or something; just a very clingy girlfriend who happens to miss her boyfriend.

"So, you're not mad?" you venture, "tell me you're not embarrassed"

He looks at you, the fondness of his gaze betraying him.

"I'm not the one wearing a skirt while trying to sound intimidating" you joke while caressing the crook of his nose, knowing you always get on his good side. Being mad isn't something that lasts, "if anyone should be embarrassed, that's you"

"Are you saying I shouldn't wear one because I'm a man?" your boyfriend looks offended, "Have you forgotten the movie I'm starring in? People feared the skirt-wearing Roman army"

"Well, I'm not intimidated" you stand defiant, and something dark tints his brown eyes. You can feel the excitement begin pooling in your stomach.

"You're not?" he grips your wrists and yanks you to him, then holds your chin, tilting your head between his calloused fingers. "Well, cariño, you should be"

Your body slams against one of the trailers walls, and you have to suppress a whine.

"You must be punished for what you did today"

You give him a doe-eye look, pretending to be all innocent, as if you weren't enjoying the punishment.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I've been a good girl"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about" he clicks his tongue, "don't play dumb with me"

"I just came to visit you" you murmur, voice husky against his ear. He grunts, and with the proximity, his hard-on rasps against your bare legs, only partly covered by the flowy summer dress you're wearing, "is that so bad?"

"It is. Has sido mala, cariño" his hand travels down under your dress, carresing with his large palm the silhoutte of your ass. The rings on his fingers create a shock, cold metal against your warm sun-bathed skin. "Naughty girl"

"I promise I'll be good, papi" you purr, using that honeyed voice of yours that makes it hard: hard to say no and hard between his pants.

Pedro sits on a small couch he has inside the trailer, guiding you with his hand enveloped around yours, motioning you to follow with a care so soft, you'd doubt he's about to do to you what he is about to do to you. He pulls you across his lap, smiling (God, you love his smile) as your stomach presses against his tights.

"Don't worry" he breathes low, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll make you a good girl. Tell me, aren't you?"

You swallow, "I am"

He moves the panties easily to the side, rubbing your pussy a little. He then spanks it softly, making you mewl at the sting.

Pedro continues to trace over it, "Are you sure about that?"

"N-no" you shiver in delight, resolve dissolving as quick as it came. "I'm naughty"

"It's good to be aware" he murmurs, "Dilo otra vez"

"I'm a naughty girl"

He lifts your head by your hair. "Tell me what you did"

"Disobeyed your orders, coming to the set" you whisper. He lets go of your hair, his hands traveling down again, slowly teasingly rubbing your pussy while he humms.

"You were a little brat, amor"

You whimpered and mewled in delight. "I was a very naughty brat"

He pushed his fingers inside you, plunging his fingers into your pussy.

"Look at you. You're soaking wet" he pumped his fingers in you, making you moan, "Is that why you came to see me? Couldn't wait any longer for daddy to be inside of you?"

You bucked a little, making him stop. He drags his fingers out, causing you to beg for him to go back.

"Answer my question you greedy thing" He leaned closer to your ear. "Did you need my cock this much?"

You whimper, "I do! Missed you so much"

He pushed his fingers back into you, provoking a moan out of you.

"You're always so needy for me" your core tenses, making you shiver. "How badly do you want me? Tell me"

You whimpered "Badly, papi"

"Say it" his face contorts in satisfaction at your pathethic display; crying little mess, "Who's cock, fingers and mouth make you feel good?"

You can't think at this point, your brain fuzzy and pussy hot, leaking. You kiss his lips, moaning against them, "you!"

"Just me, yes? Nobody else can make you feel this good?"

"No one!"

You involuntarily roll your hips to aid you in pleasure, yet Pedro stops you just before you can reach your orgasm.

"Little brat." he tuts, making you groan. "Did you think I'd let you? You were naughty today, baby"

You huff in annoyance, used to having your way.

"That's your punishment"

"But I'll behave" you mewl against his ear, "I promise"

“Good, because I'm planning on fucking your brains out” his hot breathe whispers in your ear seductively, trying his best not to slur the words at the drunken haze that your arousal provokes in him, "but you have to help me first"

You get on your knees, looking at the garment he's wearing. The skirt and general costume makes this all the more hot, mouth watering at the sight. You raise the skirt, glancing at the briefs; just seeing his dick strained against the fabric makes you wet in anticipation.

He sees the pleasure bore into your orbs, and before you do any dirty idea of yours, he's already warning:

"You have to take this off, what if we-"

"Alright" you cut him off, "but the skirt stays"

"Sigue, pues" he growls, voice low yet demanding, following you in your little game.

As you pull the briefs down, his erection springs out enthusiastically, slapping up against his lower abdomen. You shifted your gaze up to meet his, his eyelids heavy and his proud smirk driving you absolutely wild.

"That's right" he chokes out, "show me how much you missed it"

You give him a proud lick, and Pedro hisses at the moment his preseminal fluid goes in between your hungry lips.

Your tongue darts to the head of his cock, running over it several times before bobbing your head down, taking most of him in your mouth. He keeps praising as you pump the base of his cock with your hand. Your head bobs, yet you peek up to hear Pascal's little sounds and facial expression, a motivation so intimate in the way his brows furrow and eyes roll, mouth agape at your movements while his lip suck on those pretty lips of his. It makes you keep going. With every bob you take as much of him in your mouth as you can, before slowly moving your way back up to the tip, increasing your suction the closer to his head you got. A throaty moan escapes the man above you when you now focus on the final lick, making him closer to coming, all while maintaining eye contact the entire way through.

"Don't do that" he rasps, yanking you by the hair again, as of punishment, but he knows you enjoy it, "you promised you'd be good"

You can't answer, so instead, you reach the head of his cock again, and now his eyes roll back, mumbling profanities that sound like heaven.

"Do you want them to hear us, brat? Qué necia eres" he manages to chastise while moaning.

You feel his dick stuck in your throat, and the way he's about to come; you think that after some time dating, you know him well enough.

You're about to leave with your mouth when he stops you.

"No" your eyes open in shock, "what? Did you think your punishment is over?" Pedro laughs, "don't look at me like that. Like you have never done it before"

He keeps you in place by the hair, the rings prickling against your scalp. You feel his muscles tense up, and before you can think anything else thick and hot shots of cum invade your mouth, making it sticky and warm.

"Don't pretend you don't like it" his voice goes dark, husky. "Swallow it all. Te han enseñado a no desperdiciar nada, ¿verdad? Show me your good manners, then"

When you pull out, your throat feels raspy.

"You gotta reward me" you cough out.

"I promised, didn't I?" his fingers trace your face delicately, with adoration.

"It's all about duty, General Acacius" you purr, and the dick springs out again. Hard.

"Princess..." he warns.

"For the glory of Rome" you joke and laugh, then cough, as your throat is still sore.

"Have you been reading my script?" as you avoid to answer, he just chuckles, "ay, nena"

"C'mere" he motions, and you sit on his lap again. Pedro lifts your dress, exploring the curve of your ass. There's anticipation as he hooks his finger around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down to access your core.

"Fuck" you squirm at his touch, grinding your freed cunt against his hard cock. He grabs you by the hip, adjusting you right on his lap.

"You taste so good" he kisses down your throat, ending at the chest were your tits peak.

"Want them?" you offer, pulling your dress down. He kisses them, gently nipping at your perked up nipples.

A wave of pleasure courses through you, and with whines and moans, you show how desperate you are, the hunger making the meal taste better. After all those weeks missing him, you just want him to fuck you senseless.

His lips are rosy and swollen against yours, mouths clashing; starved of the yearned contact. Truth is, no matter how much you know how to touch yourself, it'll never be the same as having his hard cock tear through your tight folds.

Pedro easily aligns his leaking cock with your uncovered pussy, all while mantaining the kiss. He pushes down on you, your dripping cunt taking all of his rock-hard cock, fingers holding onto the soft brown grey sprinkled locs.

"Pedro" you cry out his name, full of ecstasy as the stretch burns so sweetly. His low grunts only fuel your desire.

You trace with your eyes his body, now bare without the upper part of the costume: his pecs and abs, flexing with every pump. With now free hands, your fingers travel to softly caress his stomach, even if your tits are jiggling and the pace frenetic.

"I miss your tummy" you pout.

"I miss eating too" he whispers out, tiredly. He's reminded of his old age, forgetting about it as soon as you two kiss, because you bring out a stamina he thinks he doesn't have anymore; almost animalistic. His bones creak and adding the tiring filming day under the hot sun, he feels his body start to give up, the orgams closer and closer.

"No matter how you look" you clash your lips onto his, the adoration translating through the smile you press against, a trail of saliva that symbolizes how interwined you are, "you always look so fucking good"

He blushes, feeling like a stupid school boy with a crush. What did he even do to deserve you? Never thought a pretty young wild thing like you would even spare a glance on his way, but now you're taking all of his cock inside with such greed yet loom into his eyes with a love he's only dreamed of.

You're real, and his.

As soon as those words leave your mouth your orgasm spills over him, some of it dripping onto the skirt, making him curse. You can't stop, still meeting his thrusts halfway, despite your trembling body after reaching your high.

"Mierda" he groans against your mouth,

You feel yourself collapsing on top of him, the weight of the jet lag catching up.

"Getting tired, baby?" he coos. "Shit, and I thought I was old"

"You are" you reply back; you can never not have the last word. And he lets you, because, God, doesn't he love you? He pretends to look offended by it, but the way your eyes shine tell him you didn't mean it that way. "You and your white hairs" tracing over his moustache, a soft hand combing through his locks, "These wrinkles... don't you know how much I love them? how much I love you?"

"And you have no idea how much I love you" he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling it coming through. "God, wanna make you mine. Sólo mía" his pace slows. It's coming, and yes, you will take it all. "Wanna make you a baby, mami. Want you to take it all like the good girl you are"

When he comes, filling you with burning hot cum until you feel like you might burst, you're numb. But there's a feeling so content that pools warmth in your chest, that you can't say anything else, resting your head against his bare chest, both covered in sticky sweat.

"No sé cómo voy a explicar esto" he speaks through ragged breathes, and you can only smirk, "a squirted and cummed roman skirt".

"That isn't my problem" he scoffs, and you feel your head rise against the movement, earning a laugh out of you, "I'm not part of the movie"

"You'd sure think so, with the way you walked in here"

You roll your eyes, face hidden against his chest, "can you let that go?"

"You're right" he pulls you closer to him, hand enveloping you behind your bare back. The quiet doesn't bother you as you lie closer to his chest, his heartbeat the only thing you need to be at peace, "I think punishment time is over. Think you've learned your lesson"

"Then, how about we go out? I've heard Malta's beaches are pretty"

"Relájate, cariño. Seems you've gotten your energy back" he quips, then kisses your forehead. "We need to wait for everyone to get out"

"That embarrased you are of me?" you joke.

"No" he can already imagine his fellow cast members making fun of him, starting with Paul and Joseph when they see you and Connie who she totally notices the fun sticky stains on the costume, "but embarrased of the explanation I'll have to give"

[anistarrose]

[ID: Tweets by Alexandra Erin (@AlexandraErin) as follows:

The Shirley Exception is a bit of mental sleight of hand that allows people to support a policy they profess to disagree with. It's called the Shirley Exception because… well, I mean, surely there must be exceptions, right?

Let's imagine that in response to suspicions about overbroad use of service animal rules, a city somewhere decides to just swing the pendulum 100% in the other direction. Restaurants, public accommodations, etc., no longer have to recognize any service animals.

And in the aftermath of the change, existing rules about where animals may and may not go apply full force.

A lot of people would back the change because Obviously Some People Take Advantage. (Positing that someone, somewhere is taking advantage is a great way to get the masses on your side in our politics, sadly.)

Now if you point out the existence of a blind person or an epileptic person who has a service dog for everyday navigation of life or for life-saving purposes, the Good People who just don't want anyone to take advantage will tell you:

"No one's talking about legitimate cases."

And if you point out that the rule that they're backing would affect what they call "legitimate cases", the response will be:

"But surely there will be an exception."

If you back up an anti-abortion activist to the point where they actually have to grapple with a case where the parent would 100% die delivering a 100% non-viable fetus, you'll get the same answers: "No one is talking about those cases." and "But surely there will be exceptions."

All of those studies of people in Trump Country USA who were shocked, shocked, that the kind man next door who is a good father and a great neighbor and a real part of the community was dragged away by ICE?

They all thought that surely he'd be an exception.

If you point out that the laws/policies they're talking about don't offer such exceptions and in some cases explicitly forbid them, if you say "So let's put those exceptions in writing."… well, then you're back to Surely People Will Take Advantage.

See, the people who are sure that Surely There Will Be Exceptions are very comfortable with the idea of justice being decided on a case-by-case basis. They've always had teachers, bosses, bureaucrats, even traffic cops giving them some slack for reasons of compassion and logic.

I mean, if Officer Smalltown von Cul-De-Sac could give them a warning when they were caught with recreational amounts of pot as kids because it was harmless and they Had Futures, then Surely there must be similar exceptions for everyone?

That post about "I never thought the leopards would eat my face, sobbed woman who voted for Face-Eating Leopards Party" is very true, and it goes farther than personal immunity to a very generalized and broad Just World Fallacy.

Surely, they think, surely the leopards will know to only eat the right faces, the faces that need eating, and leave alone all the faces that don't deserve that.

But if we try to lay out rules to protect faces from being eaten by leopards, people will take advantage. Best to keep it simple and count on decency and reason to rule the day.

So moderate conservatives, what we might call "everyday conservatives", the ones who don't wear MAGA hats or tea party costumes and think that Mr. Trump fella should maybe stay off of Twitter, they will vote for candidates and policies that they don't actually agree with…

…because in their mind the exact law being prescribed is just a tool in the chest, an option on the table, which they expect to be wielded fairly and judiciously. Surely no one would do anything so unreasonable as actually enforcing it as written! Not when that would be bad!

And then they are confused, shocked, and even insulted when people hold them accountable for their support of the monstrous policy.

"I didn't vote for leopards to eat your face! I just thought we needed some face-eating leopards generally. Surely you can't blame me for that!"

The old "Defense of Marriage" laws are another textbook example of this.

Many of them included language that expressly forbade giving similar benefits (like hospital visitation) to same-sex relationships.

Yet the people who voted for them, in many cases, wanted it to be known that No One Is Talking About Stopping You From Visiting Your Loved One In The Hospital. And Surely There Will Be An Exception.

The Shirley Exception is how people who are only mundanely monstrous, moderately monstrous, wind up supporting policies that are completely monstrous.

And when they do, they always want credit for their good intentions towards those they see as deserving, not the outcomes.

I'm describing a phenomenon here and I don't have a solution to its existence. While convincing people that laws that don't specify exceptions functionally don't have them might work sometimes on (ironically) a case-by-case basis, what is really needed is a broader shift.

People need to get used to thinking about the harm policies will do as a real part of the policy, not a hypothetical that Reasonable People of Good Will Can Surely Work Around.

Maybe the tack of saying, "If it was your life on the line, wouldn't you want that to be in writing?" would work. I don't know. Like I said, I don't have a solution here. This is just a thing that happens.

End ID.]

The Shirley Exception

[princessbrunette]

https://x.com/pervy/status/1859266201274515796?s=46

john b x sarah x reader x jj making sure the reader finds them like this so they can keep showing her that it’s ok for them to be like this around each other all the time.

they invited you round, so you had no idea why they were acting like they didn’t — the first sight you’re greet with upon entering being the sight of sarah cameron’s tanned back, rippling and rolling as she grinds her hips down on john b’s lap — the both of them naked, huffing and moaning.

you would have turned right around and left, probably ran for the hills and completely died in embarrassment over walking in on them like that… if it weren’t for jj.

he sits at the desk in the corner, headphones on — yet one ring pulled off his ear slightly so he could still hear what’s going on in the room. you stop in your tracks in the doorway, eyes glued to him as to not look at the scene you really wanted to watch.

he looks totally unbothered, jaw slightly agape, eyes locked in on the screen as he plays his game, fingers clicking furiously at the mouse. when spotting you stood there nervously, all confused like a baby bunny he lights up a little, smiling all friendly.

“heyo. was wonderin’ when you might show that pretty face. c’mere wanna show you somethin’.” he beckons you over, and you feel your feet follow— braving a glance over at the couple on the bed. you lock eyes with john b and quickly look away.

once close enough, jj pulls you by the wrist so you sit sideways on his lap. “so— there’s this skin on the game that kinda looks like you. she’s got all pink stuff… oh damn where’d it go?” the blonde mutters, adjusting his legs slightly so you can sit more comfortably. you bring your finger to your lips, chewing nervously at the corner as you peer over his shoulder beneath your lashes at the couple.

“jj…” you whisper, cautiously watching sarah move onto the flats of her feet so she could bounce on her boyfriends cock. with each movement her tits bounced, and you nearly gasped in betrayal at the way it sent a shock wave to your clit.

“what?” he shrugs, but what you don’t see is the corner of his lip tugging upwards like it was all a prank. you were reacting exactly as they said you would.

“don’t you see them?” you whisper, warm breath on his cheek when you turn your head to look at him and he nearly busts out laughing at the way you phrase it, as if you were hallucinating or seeing ghosts. jj wets his lips, glancing casually over his shoulder before back to you.

“oh, that? don’t mind them.” he waves it off, seemingly going back to his game before he decides to speak up once more, feeling your eyes burning into the side of his face. “we’re all like… super close? so… don’t really bother us. s’just sex, anyway.” his shoulders jump up in what seems to be the millionth shrug, downplaying the whole thing as you knit your brows together, yet feel a little less guilty about the way your gaze drifts back over to them. so you were allowed to watch?

not realising he’d briefly paused his game once more, jj’s clammy fingers find your chin, a cheeky expression on his face when he turns your face to be front on with him yet again, noses almost brushing. “you don’t judge though, do ya sweetcheeks?” he sweetens you with the nickname he’d grant you recently that made your belly flutter.

still in his grip, you shake your head and he smiles, giving your cheek a parting pat before focusing up on his game again.

“cool. tha’s good. ‘cause you know, could be you onna these days.”

you think about that statement for the rest of the day.

[sweetshuga]

MS ✰ Bewitched ✧ CS

───~𓆩♡𓆪~───

contains ⚠︎ smut!, strong language!, suggestive remarks!, obscene descriptions!, polyamory, hint of overstimulation, p in v (unprotected, use condoms irl), threesome, oral (m! receiving), size kink, light s&m, bondage, toys & idk a bunch of kinky stuff °~° ⚠︎

sum. Switching their clothes for a video leads to new sexual discoveries.

wc. 2.1k (2,116)

note. English is not my first language!

You watched from your place on the living room couch as Matt and Chris paced back and forth between their rooms. Seemingly exchanging clothes, laughing and talking about some type of tiktok they’re gonna film. You were only partially paying attention now—the fanfiction you were reading on your phone suddenly taking an interesting turn.

"Hey, ma?" Your head shot up at the sudden interruption, your eyes widened by a fraction when you saw their attire. They had exchanged clothes, and even their jewelleries were of the other. It’s not like they don’t wear each other’s clothes, you’ve seen them share hoodies or pants, but never fully dress as one another.

"Yeah?" You breathed out, your voice coming out a bit too shaky for your liking. "Can you please go into one of our rooms while we film a tiktok? Y’know... we can’t really show you yet." Chris said apologetically, and you nodded. "Yeah, yeah, of course, tell me when you’re done." You stood up and made your way towards Matt’s room.

"Sorry about this, sweetheart, we won’t take too long ’promise," you chuckled quietly to yourself before replying with a soft "okay" and closed the door behind yourself. Immediately plopping down on Matt’s bed as you opened your phone, ready to continue reading the fanfic.

Some people might think it’s weird to read fanfictions about your boyfriend— or boyfriends in your case, but you couldn’t deny how hot it was, how much it turned you on. The suggestive part of the fanfic began and just as you got comfortable on the bed Matt walked inside the room.

You looked up from your phone, raising an eyebrow, "you done already?" He chuckled and shook his head no, "Chris is filming his video, I’ll do it after him." You nodded, and motioned for him to come sit beside you. "You should wear bracelets more often, it suits you..." Your voice trailed off as his hand landed on your thigh, giving it a small playful squeeze, and the seemingly innocent gesture sent shivers down your spine.

"Yeah? Maybe I should get a similar one–" he paused, raising his eyebrows in surprise when he saw the Tumblr logo on your phone, the fanfiction left open and abandoned on the bed beside you. You looked at him confused before following his gaze, a small gasp escaped your lips before you quickly turned your phone off.

You sat up, flustered and embarrassed to have been caught red handed reading such a frisky fanfic about him and Chris. Stammering as you tried to find a good excuse as to why you were reading a smut fanfic in broad daylight – even if you could – but it only made it worse. "You read things like that? What was the name again?"

You looked at him for a solid minute before opening your mouth to speak, only getting out a flustered "what?" in response. The corners of Matt’s lips twitched into a small smirk, "what’s the name?" He repeated himself, his smirk threatened to grow wider with each passing second. "Simple solution," you whispered.

"Hm? And what happens in it?" You gulped softly, feeling your face heat up. "Do I have to? I mean, you can just read it yourself, I know you’ve got Tumblr on your phone." Matt laughed, the sound rich and amused, "yeah I do, but I wanna hear you tellin’ me about it, sweetheart." You couldn’t help but fidget slightly at the pet name, it was one of your faves.

"Uhm... It’s like, well," you stammered, "it’s about how much you and Chris look alike when you wear your caps backwards." You finally blurted out, biting your tongue as you waited for his reaction. "That’s... Interesting? So y’like it when we look alike huh?" He chuckled, thoroughly amused.

The bedroom door opened, and Chris peeked his head in. "I’m done," he walked fully inside the room, grinning and putting his hands on his hips in a mock attempt of display. "So, how do I look, ma?" You chuckled and sat up straight, "So fine, I’ll give you that, the kisses tee is just chefs kiss."

Chris grinned wider, "pirate girl tank or kisses tee?" Your jaw dropped, "how do you expect me to pick one? Also, why didn’t you wear the 'iconic' pirate girl tank?" You nudged Matt playfully, "we’re not recreating outfits... well, basically, but it’s more like how we dress and all—" you cut him off with a laugh, "okay, whatever you say, kid."

"Are you two done filming yet?" Nick popped his head in, looking annoyed, "’cause I’m so fucking hungry, and you keep telling me to stay in my room like what am I? One of your secret girlfriends?" Chris scoffed in faux annoyance, "we’ve only got one girl fyi, and no, Matt hasn’t filmed yet, but go ahead and eat if you’re about to starve to death."

Nick huffed, raising his eyebrows in dramatic disbelief, but didn’t say anything else as he walked away, mumbling under his breath about how ridiculous everything was. Suddenly, Matt spoke—breaking the silence. "I’ll be back," he gave your thigh one last squeeze before standing up to film the short video for tiktok.

Chris smirked and sauntered over to Matt’s bed where you were – still – laying on. Sitting on the edge as his hand absentmindedly started to caress your calves, "so, real talk, how do I look?" You hummed thoughtfully, "real talk? I think you look hot, like 'makes me wet' kinda hot." He let out a surprised yet amused laugh, "bold now ain’t we?" chuckling as he leaned closer.

"Mm... 'makes you wet' kinda hot huh?" He teased, a wolfish grin on his face as his gaze raked over your body appraisingly. "So, you gon’ show me how wet it makes you or do I have to see it myself." His tone wasn’t one of questioning, more like a commanding one as if you were obligated to show him either way. You felt pleasantly surprised, the fluttering in your abdomen growing tenfold.

However, Matt walked in before you could respond. Raising his eyebrows with a small smirk as he sensed the tension in the air. The room seemed warmer, more electric. That’s when Nick opened the door again, "I’ll be out for a bit–" he paused, having sensed the tension as well.

"Well, uh... Don’t be too loud? We don’t need another noise complaint from our neighbours, that’s just borderline embarrassing." With that, he closed Matt’s bedroom door, leaving you three alone. The front door clicked shut a few minutes later. Your mouth hung agape at Nick’s words.

"Damn, kid has no filter whatsoever." Chris chuckled, taking the fanny pack off and tossing it on Matt’s gaming chair. "Hey, easy with it," Matt said as he took off his cap. Putting it on his gaming desk before turning to look at you. Sensing their eyes on you, you suddenly felt a strong heat in your lower abdomen. Their gazes were enough to make you squirm.

"So, now that Nick is out," Chris looked at Matt before looking back at you, "we’ve the house all to ourselves," Matt continued for him. You nodded subtly, shifting slightly on the bed, trying not to show how in need you were. They weren’t stupid, knowing exactly what was happening with you as their handsome faces lit up with amused grins.

You squirmed, a muffled moan exiting your gagged mouth as your hips bucked and jerked when Chris pressed a button on the small remote, making the vibe in between your legs buzz louder. The intense sensation of the vibe, bound to stay precisely on your clit, was enough to make your eyes roll back.

Your ankles were bound as well as your wrists, making you unable to move much as the pleasure coursed through your body. You bit the gag, your back arching and hips rolling as you tried to get the vibe at least a millimeter away from your throbbing clit, but Matt held your hips down and Chris positioned the vibrator so it was exactly on your clit again.

"Aw, too much?" Matt pouted, jutting his bottom lip out in obvious mock sympathy. Your eyes glazed over as a tight knot formed in your stomach, your body trembling as you tried to fight the impending orgasm – knowing it would turn you dumb from how powerful it would be.

Just when you thought you couldn’t hold back anymore, Chris pressed the button until the vibe buzzed at max. An immediate jolt ran through your body as your eyes widened, tears of pleasure threatening to fall as you shut it back closed, loud muffled noises penetrating through the gag.

Your mind blanked when you felt the knot snap, the orgasm so powerful that you wondered if you could stay conscious. Noticing the slight overstimulation, Chris turned the vibe to a low buzz. The sensation bordered on overstimulating in your oversensitized post-orgasmic state – even if it was barely there. Matt chuckled as he took the remote from Chris and turned the vibe off, your body immediately limping into the mattress as the sensations stopped.

Chris gently untied your ankles from the bounds, but kept your wrists tied over your head. His fingers working deftly to remove the bounds from your pelvic area and tossed the vibe somewhere on the bed. Seeing your inner thighs quivering, covered in your juices, and your swollen, glistening folds on display made their cocks twitch.

They were already naked, not seeing the point in having clothes on, but kept the bracelet and rings on per your request. The tips of their hefty lengths were already dripping with precum from how aroused they were, swollen and taut with unfulfilled desires. Matt suddenly stood up from the bed and walked towards his closet while Chris took off the gag.

A few seconds later, Matt was back on the bed, now beside you as he helped you into a sitting position. Your gaze fell down to his hand that held a red silk blindfold before taking it back up to his face, your eyebrows raised. "Where did you even get that?" You asked with a small hint of amusement.

Matt just grinned, "bought it a while ago, been contemplating whether to use it or not, but I think now’s the best time to use it." Chris chuckled, "dude, I can’t believe y’had all this stuff in your closet, laying ’round like that." Matt chuckled and scooted closer to you, his erection bobbing obscenely as he moved. "C’mon, sweetheart, lemme blindfold you." You eagerly closed your eyes, not denying how much you liked this.

The blindfold cut off any source of light, making you feel a shudder of excitement. It was designed for plays like this so it wasn't a surprise that you couldn't see anything. The inability to see only heightened your other senses, every graze and touch of their hands on you seemed to make your body tremble and jolt.

𓆩♡𓆪

Your mind was a haze as Matt pounded into you with hard, deep strokes, and the slight difficulty breathing from Chris’ length down your throat added to the haze. Your mind fogging with pure unadulterated pleasure as they used your holes. Matt held your bound wrists, keeping you from moving as his other hand gripped your hip with bruising strength.

The obscene sounds of squelching from your sopping pussy being filled over and over again by Matt and the slurping sounds of your mouth working Chris filled the room along with the bed creaking underneath you. The position you were having intercourse in was a new one neither you, Matt or Chris had tried before.

Your neck was supported by the edge of the bed, but your head hung down it—allowing Chris to use your mouth. Matt’s pace quickened as he felt himself growing close with each spasm of your inner walls from your previous orgasms, the aftershocks still coursing through you.

Chris moaned as he felt the knot in his stomach growing tighter with each thrust down your throat, the sight of the bulge he was creating with his cock on your throat proving to be too much. You felt them twitch in your holes, their paces quickening and you knew they were close.

With guttural moans they came, one after the other. After a few seconds of shuddering over you, they finally pulled out, leaving you filled with their releases, but you knew better than to think it was over. Your suspicions were proven right when they coaxed you into a different position, but you weren’t complaining. After all, who could resist? They seemed to have you under their spell—bewitching indeed.

𓆩♡𓆪

ps. The fic mentioned in the beginning is actually one of my chratt fics. I know, I know, sneaky mf, but here's the link in case you wanna check it out<3 «Simple Solution»

Also, the beginning part of the actual smut was inspired by this «p link»

Chratt taglist: @bells-sturn @h3arts4nat @zombiesturniolo @urfavnickgirl @cwistofurr @goingtojohnkramershouseee @blahblahblahm @shoo-00 @ariana2saucyy @ksturnz @sturniolos4life16 @strnlslut @babysturniolo @ashleighpray23 @bl1ssfulbunn1e @ijustbelurkingmymen

♡ If you wanna be tagged on my future Chratt fics click «here» and interact with the post ♡

© sweetshuga

[gothhabiba]

@ anon

I think it might be actually dangerous to publish your ask, but I'm sure from my response people will be able to tell what it's about anyway.

You're full of actual, absolute shit if you're pretending not to know by now that verification processes to ensure the legitimacy of Ghazzawin's fundraisers have been undertaken, and that details about what these processes entail have been shared by several people. Several people, some of them currently in Gaza, put themselves through countless hours of work video-calling people, judging their knowledge of dialectical Arabic, seeing their faces and their children's faces and their living conditions, seeing IDs and bank information, asking invasive, personal questions that they didn't want to be asking & that the people responding probably didn't want to be answering, and physically visiting people in Gaza and video-recording their interactions, just so that people like you could be sure that these fundraisers were legitimate. If you're ignoring all of the blood & tears that went into that process just so you can hand-wring about scams, no one needs to be concerned with convincing you of the legitimacy of anything, because you were never going to donate to these people anyway. You are just looking for any plausible-sounding excuse not to do what you already didn't want to do.

If, by some miracle, you actually didn't know about the verified fundraiser spreadsheet (which is frankly still blameable bc, where on earth have you been?), then there it is. The post of mine that you're referring to never even mentioned responding to asks; using this spreadsheet is an absolutely valid, reasonable way of donating directly to families.

Now let me treat some of your statements as though they were questions (which, they were not).

How do people in Gaza have internet access?

Internet infrastructure in Gaza is very robust (e.g. in what cables are made of, how deep they're buried, amounts of redundancy in the system, &c.) because they have been getting bombed by Israel all the fucking time for decades, so they expect this infrastructure to be put through a lot. There have still--if you've been following the situation at all--been several outages caused by damage that Ghazzawin have needed to repair. Though I do have to say that I find it odd that you doubt Ghazzawin have internet access, but also say that you buy eSims...?

A lot of people right now are indeed connected via eSim, which to my understanding only need to connect to wifi once, right when they're activated. People put themselves at risk to connect to eSims because they need to get a good wifi signal, which usually means walking for several miles trying to find high ground. One of my contacts once urgently called me (this is the only time he hadn't just texted) because he had been told his friend had found a signal and so they needed an eSim right then, before they went back to their tent.

I've been trying for some time to connect another of my contacts in Gaza to an eSim, but we're not having success. At Crips for eSims for Gaza they / we (I'm on the server getting advice and helping out but I'm not using their funding; I'm using what people on tumblr have given me to purchase eSims with) keep a constantly updated sheet of which eSim providers use which networks and which networks work in which areas--because the situation is constantly changing. Because my contact doesn't have an eSim on a personal phone, she has to go to a central location to be allotted three hours of internet access from someone who has managed to get connected. Lots of people, on their fundraising posts and pages, specify exactly how they've gotten internet access, how difficult it's been for them to get it, and how stressful it is to be relying on this tenuous connection, spending hours away from their families (at high risk of being shot at by IOF soldiers the whole time), just to message people for hours straight and then go home again.

2. How do people in Gaza have tumblr accounts?

This is a stupid question. Anyone with an email address who is capable of picking a username and password can make a tumblr account. I have personally helped several of my contacts in Gaza with the process.

3. How do people in Gaza know to come into people's tumblr accounts?

This is also a stupid question. I don't really see how you could ask this question if you saw Palestinians as, like, real humans beings. You understand that people talk to each other, yes? Like with words? As soon as a few people had success fundraising to evacuate Gaza on tumblr (nearly a year ago... this news has had a lot of time to spread), obviously they told other people about it.

One of the ways that Israel conducts its genocidal war is through the destructiveness of frustration and boredom. It's a strange situation because everything is extremely dire, urgent, terrifying, and dirty, but there's also seldom anything to do. People are singing, telling stories, going to the beach, inventing games and contests, to entertain children, but also to entertain themselves. And this is the situation--with a bunch of desperate, bored people packed into a tiny piece of land--this is the situation that you think it's impossible for people to talk to each other in? Come on.

If you want to donate to Anera and World Food Kitchen and buy eSims, that's fantastic. Please do that. But if you are as ignorant of the particulars of what this situation is like as your ask makes you appear, then I hope you refrain from speaking on what the situation is like.

I've been nattering on for a long time so here's my call to action:

Decide what you're capable of giving right now, or the next time you get paid

Scroll down on the vetted fundraiser spreadsheet and find someone very low on funds, or with injured children who urgently need treatment or evacuation, and give that money.

AND / OR give it to the PCRF or the IRW

[cozycottagetarot]

Your Next Relationship 💖

Reading Contents ✨

Who is this person?

When will this relationship manifest?

Patreon Extended 🧁

What will the early stages be like?

Where will this relationship be in 6 months to a year?

As always this reading is for entertainment purposes only. ✨ Take only what resonates!

LINKS: Reading Masterlist | Dividers | Ko-Fi | Patreon | Patreon Masterlist | Paid Readings | Paid Readings - $10 and Under - Open 🥂

Pile 1

Who is this person?

Cards: The Hunter, The Painter rev, The Storyteller rev, King of Summer, Queen of Spring, Strength, The Wheel

For some, getting into a relationship with this person has been a long time coming! They’re someone who exudes a sense of safety and security, making it easy for you to trust them. You can bring anything to them—problems, concerns, or just a need for comfort—and they’ll make time to be there for you. This person seems to have a remarkable ability to juggle multiple responsibilities, and they carry a nurturing, almost parental energy. This quality might even help heal something deeper within you, offering a kind of emotional rejuvenation you didn’t realize you needed. They’re gentle and loving, with a depth shaped by their own resilience. It seems they’ve been through a lot, and those experiences have molded them into someone dependable and compassionate. However, they might occasionally try to shield you from their struggles, either by intentionally hiding things or unintentionally giving the impression that everything is fine. The rest of the reading could shed more light on this dynamic. It’s also possible they deal with self-esteem issues or struggle with self-doubt. Despite this, they have a focused and determined nature. When they set their sights on something, they pursue it wholeheartedly.

When will this relationship manifest?

Cards: Two of Autumn, Seven of Autumn, Nine of Summer, Nine of Winter, Ace of Summer

This relationship feels like something you’re going to manifest.

At first, it might feel like you’re working hard toward something and not seeing results. You could be juggling a lot of things at once, or maybe it happens during a time when you’ve decided to pause and take a break from all the effort you’ve been putting into other areas of your life. This pause might even be related to your career, but it doesn’t have to be about material things. It’s more about stepping back, letting things flow, and giving yourself room to just be. During this waiting period, you might unexpectedly shift your focus back to love. It may not have been something you were prioritizing, but you’ll come back to it and work through any fears or doubts you’ve been carrying. That’s when you’ll consciously decide, You know what? I’ve put in so much work elsewhere; it’s time to open myself up to love. And that’s how this relationship starts—it’s born from you choosing to welcome it (a relationship in general) into your life, even if it feels a little scary or uncertain at first. It’ll happen while you’re in a season of stillness or waiting for something else to unfold.

✨ What will the early stages be like? 👀 Will you still be together in six months—or a year? 😱 Find out in the extended reading and uncover what awaits you in the next chapter of this love story! 💖 Preview the Patreon Masterlist.

Pile 2

Who is this person?

Cards: Princess of Winter, Two of Winter, Ten of Summer, Ace of Spring, The Hunter, The Acolyte, The Sleeper, The Miser

This person seems to struggle with balancing their own needs with their sense of responsibility to others. They deeply value their friends and family and often put their loved ones' needs ahead of their own. While they don’t let people get close to them easily, once you’re in their inner circle, their loyalty is unshakable. They may have perfectionist tendencies or at least prefer having a clear plan to follow. When they decide on a goal, they focus intently and work hard to make it happen. That said, they might find it difficult to strike a balance between being considerate of others and prioritizing themselves. Curiosity is a core part of their personality—they’re always learning, exploring, or diving into something new. However, they might have a habit of repeating the same mistakes, which could be a learning curve they’re working through.

When will this relationship manifest?

Cards: The Star, The Magician, Ten of Summer, Unity, Prince of Autumn

This relationship will come into your life when things start looking up for you—like a shift in your luck or energy. If you’ve been feeling stuck or down, this is when you’ll notice things begin to align. You’ll feel lighter, more optimistic, and like the things you’ve been hoping for are finally falling into place.

It might manifest in a serendipitous way. For example, you could casually wish for something and suddenly find an opportunity or unexpected offer that fulfills it. Similarly, this relationship could come through your social circle—perhaps family, friends, or even a mentor or elder who introduces you to this person. There’s a chance you meet them during a gathering or event involving loved ones. There could also be a contrast between you two: maybe an age difference, or one of you might have more traditional values while the other is more free-spirited.

This person appears as the Prince of Autumn—someone steady, thoughtful, and deliberate. They’re cautious and like to plan things out in advance. While they may take their time opening up or committing to the relationship, it’s not because they’re uninterested. Instead, it reflects their careful and intentional nature. Once they decide they’re ready, they’ll fully invest in making it work.

✨ What will the early stages be like? 👀 Will you still be together in six months—or a year? 😱 Find out in the extended reading and uncover what awaits you in the next chapter of this love story! 💖Preview the Patreon Masterlist.

Pile 3

Who is this person?

Cards: Queen of Wands, Three of Autumn, Five of Autumn, Four of Summer, Balance, Two of Summer, The Priest (Reversed), The Aspirant, The Smith

This person might be naturally solitary or has been single for a while, preferring their own company over relying on others. They’ve been through a lot and carry a diverse set of life experiences, which makes them someone who is both interesting and wise to talk to. While they give off an independent "I don’t need anyone" vibe, they’re also incredibly personable, funny, and talented. They have a lot going for them and are quite the catch, though they might not always see it themselves. When they feel connected to their spirituality or the divine, they thrive, but when that connection wavers, they may feel off balance or even lost in their own thoughts. Overthinking and difficulty accepting setbacks are areas they might struggle with. Despite their occasional self-doubt, they’re someone who complements you well. There’s a strong potential for you two to hit it off right away, feeling like a perfect match. They bring a mix of humor, skill, and depth to the table that makes the connection exciting and meaningful.

When will this relationship manifest?

Cards: The Wheel, Nine of Autumn, The Dreamer, Eight of Autumn, Seven of Summer

It’s giving meet-cute vibes!

This relationship will likely manifest after you make a big choice to move forward with something important in your life. It feels like you’ll be embarking on a new adventure—something you’ve been working toward for a while that finally comes together. This could be related to personal development, career, or even educational pursuits, like learning a new skill or trade. Once you decide to take that leap of faith, it sets things into motion. The actual meeting could happen in a super specific or niche setting. It might be related to work, school, or an event tied to this new adventure you’re embarking on. It’s not so much the meeting itself that’s remarkable but rather the series of events leading up to it that makes it feel almost fated.

When you look back, you might feel like everything—your choices, their choices, and even setbacks—was leading up to this moment. It’ll have that "meant to be" energy, where it feels like all the puzzle pieces fell into place to bring you two together.

✨ What will the early stages be like? 👀 Will you still be together in six months—or a year? 😱 Find out in the extended reading and uncover what awaits you in the next chapter of this love story! 💖Preview the Patreon Masterlist.

[mellowdiplomattrashpsychic]

Damian had to close his eyes, the green abruptly assaulting his eyes with how bright it was.

It was suffocating, like he was swimming into the league's training pool depths. The water pressure was similar to this, making him instinctively hold his breath.

It was wrong. He knew he should just give in. He already did this much. He couldn't take it back. He was halfway there. Just a little more, and he'll be with Danyal forever.

He just had to breathe.

Just as he was about to let go of the last seconds he had to live, he saw a change in light through his eyelids. He felt the pressure vanish just as quickly.

He coughed a gasping breath, hearing a wince of sympathy.

"Oh, right. I forgot about how people react to a change of ambient ecto quality... Sorry. Just- just take slow, deep breaths. You might feel a bit tingly, but that's just your body filtering out the polluted ecto and adjusting to the more pure version."

Damian followed Danyal's instructions, taking slow, deep breaths instead of quicker ones. It seemed that Grayson's breathing techniques to calm oneself wasnt applicable to those in the land of the dead. There was no need to hold his breath. It made exhaling difficult, as if the air had somehow gained consistency.

A few breaths in, and he could feel what his brother had referred to. He felt as though he were drugged, feeling as though he was barely clinging to his physical body. He felt ashamed that he couldn't get himself to let go.

He cracked his eyes open, blinking out the black spots and struggling to make sense of the shapes around him. But once he did, he saw buildings, a road, a starry night sky, streetlights, a few people-

Danyal moved in front of him, smiling softly.

"Feeling ok?"

"A little out of body, but the process should be over soon. I swear to you, it... it's not my intention to still be so... attached."

Please forgive me. I swear I'll join you soon. I don't know why my body can't follow my mind or heart.

Danyal's smile became smaller, making Damian's heart drop.

"It's fine, Ahki. I don't expect you to detach yourself from them. They're your family." Danyal pulled Damian into an embrace, a hand combing through his hair. "I know... I know people aren't fond of ghosts. But that's ok. I don't mind, I just... I'm happier with you. I would've backed off if you weren't comfortable with me."

Damian bit his inner cheek, hands reaching out and grasping the thin clothes Danyal wore. No matter how much Danyal altered them, they would always feel thin, as if they would tear as easily as wet paper. But that was not the case, not when they would have crumbled and torn apart with how tightly he held onto them at that very moment.

"They were worried about you. That you were sacrificing something by staying on the living plane." His voice wavered. He didn't mean to, he didn't. He swore it.

"Ahki?"

"Yes?"

"Please don't lie to me."

"When I close my eyes and listen to what you say, it's easy to tell when you're lying."

Damian's blood ran cold.

"I-I wasn't-" He tried to pull away. He tried to make Danyal look him in the eyes. To show his sincerity.

Danyal only held him more tightly.

"But you hid something. Please... please tell me, am I bothering you? Did you really not want me around?"

"No! No, that's not- n-not not-" His voice wasn't cooperating. He took a quick breath in his frustration, only to quickly regret it when it got stuck in his throat, encouraging his gag reflex that soon turned into a violent chain of coughs.

"Hey, hey, deep breaths. Deep breaths, Ahki. You want me around, I heard you. Breathe, it's ok. We're ok. I'm not mad or anything. I just needed to make sure you actually wanted me around. I'm sorry that I scared you like that."

It was difficult to regulate his breathing, his coughing fit making him gasp at air quickly out of reflex. It was dizzying, it was worsening, he couldn't breathe.

He could feel Danyal letting go, making his heart race despite the low oxygen levels.

Please don't leave, I'm sorry.

He reached out, hearing a distant apology before his nose was pinched and mouth was covered. His body spasmed, attempting to continue to gasp for air. His hands twitched, the temptation to grab one of his many weapons high.

But he couldn't. He couldn't do it again. Not to him. Not again.

He felt his heart start to slow, and his body quit acting foolish. That's when the hands left his face, allowing him to breathe deeply. It was slow, he was too drained to even attempt to gasp for air.

He fell forward onto a cool surface. A body.

Danyal.

Danyal suffocated him.

He deserved it, but it hurt nonetheless.

"Ahki..."

Why is there a cold ticklish feeling trailing down his face? Was he crying? When did he start crying?

"Shhh, I'm sorry, but you were going to drown if I didn't get you to stop coughing or gasping. Just a few more minutes, and I won't have to do that ever again, I promise."

"Ahki... Ahki, 'm sorry..."

His head felt so floaty, but his body still felt heavy. Why? Just why couldn't he follow through?

"There’s-..." Danyal let out a sigh. "What are you sorry for, Damian?"

"You asked me to... you asked me vome with you." His breaths still felt short. "But I couldn't follow through. I still can't follow it through."

"..."

He should've been worried about Danyal's silence, but he couldn't even keep track of time. How fast was he talking? Was he slurring his words? He felt so dizzy still. He felt like he was floating.

"I thought about it. I thought about it to the point that I became... anxious. Father and Richard... Todd, Brown, Caine, Pennyworth, and even Drake care so much... I didn't... I didn't want to hurt them by dying."

He was almost there. He shouldn't have struggled even if he didn't end up causing any bodily harm. He shouldn't have even attempted to reach for his weapons.

"They were scared. They're scared, please don't blame them. It's my fault, Danny... it's mine. It's my fault they tried to send you away. I want- I want to stay with you."

Was he still talking? It sounds like gibberish, words not sounding like any he recognized.

"Damian... Damian, I didn't- Fuck, I didn't mean it that way!" Danyal roughly pulled him off, a hand on his shoulder to keep him steady and the other shakily cupping his cheek. He was letting Damian see him, he wanted him to look at him. "I don't want you to die, Damian."

Damian's lips pursed, brows furrowing in confusion and denial.

"Don't lie to me-"

"Look at me, Damian! Look at me and see if I'm lying!"

Damian focused on Danyal's face, searching for his giveaways.

"I don't want you dead." Damian searched more desperately. "I want you to live, Damian. I want you alive. I want my brother alive. I don't want you dead."

He repeated it over and over until Damien glared at him and covered his mouth.

"I understand, I hear you, I-" He jumped, quickly pulling away in disgust. "You licked me!"

Danny only gave him an innocent and saintly smile in response.

Ugh.

"You're disgusting."

"But you love me!"

"Unfortunately."

Danyal giggled, pulling away and crossing his legs, now hovering an inch over the grassy ground.

Damian let out a slow breath, still feeling drained but not as terrified and filled with shame as before. He felt like he could breathe freely. He could still have Danyal by his side and live with the rest of his family without any guilt.

He still deserved some form of punishment, but it was fine. He was fine for now. Perhaps... Perhaps Danyal would consider everything up to this point as punishment enough. Even if it wasn't enough, that seemed like something Danyal would choose to do.

"Damian?"

"If you did not want me to pass, then why am I such poor condition? Where are we, if not the afterlife?"

Danyal smiled sheepishly.

"Right. So you know how the Lazarus Pits had that power to elongate life to the fatally injured? Well, it turns out that it's because it's made of ectoplasm, runoff more specifically. But there's other types. The one that's affecting you to this point is ambient ectoplasm. You could think of it like air. Gotham is filled with polluted ambient ectoplasm because of the amount of curses there, and it's pretty low on it since there's a lot of shades.

Here, though, we have pure ambient ectoplasm directly from the Infinite Realms, where the afterlife resides. So it's pure, and there's a lot of it. But since you're used to Gotham's ectoplasm level, your baby core needs to accommodate itself. You should be good to move around soon if not already."

"..." Damian turned away from Danyal and looked at their new surroundings. "Where exactly are we then?"

"Oh! We're in Amity Park, a town in Illinois. Not a very good welcome, but uh, yeah. This was last minute. I would've had a party set up with everyone- which reminds me! I need to call Jazz. She's my adoptive older sister, by the way. She's nice, a bit weird when it comes to psychoanalyzing people, don't pay much attention to it. She's cool, you'll get along live a forest fire!"

"Those are dangerous, Danyal. I feel as though I should be concerned with your apparent interest in arson."

"See! That's something she would say!"

"For good reason." Damian smirked.

"Rude!"

Dcxdp

Just thinking of like a demon twins au where danny finds out damian is no longer under their grandfathers rule and goes to visit him in ghost form.

And damian is grieving all over again. Because thats his little brother, dead at his hands. Never able to grow up and live a full life. Just this weird mirror version of it. And now that damians embraced his fathers way of preserving life it feels even more of a waste and he mourns the experiences they could've had together. It felt like less of a blow when he was still in the league and surviving wasnt much of a life. Danyal was most likely happier at rest then there, but now? Now damian wishes they had more time.

Danny not realizing hes forgotten to tell his brother hes actually still alive. keeps saying that damian should come with him. See his home, meet his friends, Etc. Damian thinking danyal wants to drag him to the afterlife. Considers it even, because he owes him that much. Scared by his own thoughts and telling bruce or dick about it. And theyre both grief stricken and furious. Just this whole misunderstanding snowballing. Another son but one whos been lost before they could ever meet. One theyd never been able to know. Who never got the chance to be a child before his time was cut short. And everyone wanting to find a way to lay danny to rest without him stealing damian away too. Bruce desperate to meet this imprint of a son he never met but terrified of it taking away the son he still has.

Lol thinking of like 100 ways this could go.

Bruce calling in constantine. Danny feeling betrayed that they called someone to banish him? He thought damian would be happy to see him? Would accept him. Thought he could meet his father as well.

Or

Damian making him a grave and showing him that he can "rest" now like hed never been properly laid to rest with the league. Danny thinking its either a) a funny joke or b) finally realizes whats going on.

Or

damian offering to go with him as long as hes able to come back? He still wants to live his life and there are others in dcu who can go between realms (sorta i guess?) Danny being like yeah? No duh we'll come back xD damian being like??? When he sees amity lol.

[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x Ofc!Princess Reader)

All Chapters List

XV. The Plan (+18, Smut, MDNI)

“Parcere proditori, proditio est innocenti.”

To spare the traitor is to betray the innocent.

Marcus, after leaving you in the poorhouse, made his way to Palatine Hill. He had a bad feeling about it and it was getting worse. It was tough for him to leave you each time. However, today's council was of greater importance than any that had preceded it. It might be the case that this could alter the course of Rome and his own fate.

He got the latest update from his soldiers before heading into the Domus Severiana. He had trust in the Praetorian guards at the gate and those in the courtyard, but with Geta's safety at stake, he couldn't be sure. Octavius met him in the courtyard and followed him into the armoury to help him put on his armour. The next step was to get Geta to the Curia Julia safely. He must do this on his own, with his most trusted soldiers. As a Roman general, Marcus was an expert in a variety of military strategies and tactics, with a particular focus on offensive operations. It was for this reason that he maintained a considerable military presence on the Field of Mars, prepared for any eventuality. They were ready to act on his orders. He had invested a great deal of time and effort in training them, with the aim of making them all well-raised soldiers and ensuring they were prepared to take action should the need arise. He was certain that he would eventually have to deal with the Praetorian Guard. However, since you came into his life, his priorities have shifted somewhat. He was no longer seeking to overthrow the Emperor, but rather to assist him in becoming a capable leader for Rome. Perhaps he was reluctant to witness further unrest and conflict in the city. He was willing to do whatever he could to ensure a brighter future for his own and for all Roman children.

Marcus put on his armour and armed himself with his sword before heading to the courtyard with Octavius. Geta and his mother, Julia, were there, too, with a few guards awaiting him. As soon as Geta saw them, he walked toward them.

"Acacius, where's my sister? Why didn't you bring her with you?" he asked, a little louder than necessary.

"She's somewhere safe, so there's no need to worry."

"That's nonsense! You should have brought her here with you. I don't think it's a good idea for her to stay outside the palace right now."

Marcus gave him a stern look. "So you're the one who ordered the guards to look for her everywhere?"

"Yes, I wasn't sure how Macrinus would take the council's urgent decision, so I thought maybe I could bring her here this way."

Marcus strode over to him, looking angry, which made Geta tense up.

"You knew she was with me."

"But I didn't know where you were, so I had to get them to look for you both. Roughly half of the guards were still on his side. I just wanted to make sure that my guard could find you before anyone else did."

Marcus tried to calm down, taking a deep breath. "This shows that the palace isn't a safe place either. Fortunately, she's safe now, my men are protecting her," he said then. “May I ask how the Council decided to meet today?” His eyes shifted to Julia, but she averted her gaze.

"It is difficult to convey the extent of my mother's efforts, but we have now gained the upper hand in the council," he said, winking at her. “It was unanimously agreed that an urgent meeting should be convened, today.”

Marcus was not interested in the specifics of her success. “I see.” He murmured.

“So let's proceed with the next steps and conclude this, shall we?”

Marcus nodded. "Indeed."

By noon, Geta and Julia's carriage had arrived at the Roman Forum. As they made their way through the streets, they were accompanied by other soldiers and guards who appeared to be loyal to Geta for the time being. The members of the Senate were already assembled in the Curia Julia. While Geta and Julia proceeded up the stairs, Marcus followed at a distance, taking care to observe his surroundings. However, the issue was not external, but rather within the Council chamber itself. Some of the Council members were absent, and it was not difficult to discern which ones. The other members expressed their concerns about their absence, and Geta was insistent on commencing the session. However, this was contrary to the law. Therefore, they decided to wait, but this was about to exacerbate the situation further. Marcus was concerned that this endless waiting time might be a sign of something bad.

‘What is this place? Where are you taking me?’ you asked Macrinus. You followed him through narrow streets and then through a tunneled passage into a large building.

"You will see it soon enough, my lady." He replied confidently.

You didn't want to come to this strange place with that bastard, but you had no choice. He had his plans for today, no doubt about it. You soon passed through the stone walls that resembled those under the Colosseum and observed a group of men. They were all members of the Senate, and you knew them at once by their white togas.

"What's the meaning of this?" Your voice was loud.

Macrinus ignored you, and the members of the Senate looked at you with a hint of hesitation.

"You really brought her," said one of them.

"I always get what I want, consul. You should have known this by now." Macrinus grinned then clasped his hands. "Now that we have the princess, we shall move on to the next stage."

"Consul Macrinus, I'm not entirely convinced if that's the best course of action. I think it is unwise to abduct General Acasius' wife, the princess, and force them to cooperate." One of them said.

"Council must have met by now. Geta's guards will be looking for us."

"And do not forget the Acacius's soldiers!"

"Cease the complaining!" Macrinus yelled at them. "Why can't you see the opportunity that I see? They can't start the session without us, yet they can't make a decision either. And as for Geta, he is not like Caracalla." He turned towards you. "He values his sister more than you realise.” Then looked at them once again. "So, Acacius will bring us Geta with his own hands and hand him over, and I will kill him. This will make my path to the throne. Then we'll all win. See? It's straightforward. There's no need to complain like old ladies, is there?”

"You'll all be punished for this!" You shouted. “You'll lose your statues, your title, everything you have! Release me at once, I'm warning you!"

The consuls exchanged glances, and Macrinus became visibly upset and approached and grabbed your arm.

"I see you've been very talkative since I last saw you, Aurelia. However, you're wasting your breath. I'll take your brother's life eventually and become an emperor.”

"It will never happen!" You barked. He touched your hair, and you turned your head to the other side in disgust. "You will witness it. I will make sure of that." He looked at the guards. "Take the princess away and lock her up."

"Let go of me!" You resisted, struggling. But the guards ignored you.

It didn't seem like an easy situation to get out of this time. Your chest tightened as you considered the possibility that he might win. If that were to happen, it would undoubtedly mean losing everything. It would be disastrous.

You descended the stone stairs and were taken aback by what you saw. There were cells with iron bars, like a dungeon. You stopped and looked at the guards.

“Please keep walking, my lady.” His tone was stern.

When you refused, the guards looked at each other and one of them grabbed your arm.

"'Let go of my arm!" You yelled, trying to fight back but to no avail. The other one opened the door to one of the cells and they forced you inside.

"I am your princess! You can't do this! Can't you hear me?"

They kept ignoring you, and locked the cell. You gripped the bars.

"Please, don't do this, let me out! Please!" Your voice was pleading this time, but it seemed to have no effect on them. One of them stood by the bars and the other near the stairs. You gave up begging, turned your back on them, and looked into the cell. It was almost the filthiest place you had ever been. The stone walls looked like weathered rock. The floor was dirty, dusty and filthy. You were so tired, that your feet were about to betray you, but you had no intention of sitting down or leaning against the wall, so you decided to cross your arms and just wait. You had never felt so helpless, not even when you were running away from Flavius in the woods. There was nothing more horrible than having your freedom taken away, the feeling of being trapped made your chest ache.

Before long, you heard footsteps echoing through the hall. You looked in that direction and saw the guards nodding to Macrinus. He had his usual self-assured look on his face, bowing respectfully to you as if he had done nothing wrong.

You went over to the iron bars. “Get me out of here at once!’

He gave a little smirk. “I'm really sorry about the poor facilities, my lady, but I am a little unsure that you'd behave yourself. After all, you have a very stubborn and determined temperament.”

You pursed your lips. “What's this place anyway? What gives you the right to lock me in here?”

Macrinus put his hands on the iron bars and observed as if he were seeing them for the first time. “This is where the gladiators stay. They get their first training at this school before heading to the Colosseum."

"Do I look like a gladiator to you?"

Macrinus laughed. "Of course not, my lady. Let's just say I'm playing it safe."

"Locking me up won't convince me of anything."

"Is that so? Hmm, maybe not you, but I think I could easily persuade your brother or your husband. They both care a lot about you after all."

You took a step towards him. "What exactly are you planning? As soon as you ascend to the throne, you will exile my husband, declare our marriage null and void, and force me to marry you?”

“More or less, yes.”

"That's not going to happen! I'm never going to marry you, not in this life, or the next!" Your voice bounced off the cold stone walls with a ringing sound.

Macrinus seemed serious this time. "Then you'll be stuck under home detention for the rest of your life. There won't be a general husband coming to your rescue, nor a foolish brother in hopeless in love with you either."

"Shut your damn mouth!" Your body was shaking with anger.

"I'm giving you one last chance, Aurelia. Think carefully. Once Geta's gone, I'll be the new emperor. And then you'll do what I want." Macrinus put his hands on the bars just above yours. "'I thought it would be better to exile Acacius for his heroism, so that would not provoke a public outrage, but if you try my patience and resist, I will make you watch him die in the Colosseum. I swear I will."

You swallowed, even the thought was enough to make your heart ache. "I am carrying his child, how can you be so heartless, so damned?”

"A child?” He laughed. “As a medicus I'm sure you can find ways to get rid of that.”

"Damn you!" You reached through the bars to hit him in the face, but he grabbed your hand. He made you put your hand on his collar. There was a marking on his chest.

"Take a look at this! Do you know what this is? It's your father's mark!"

You observed the mark. "Were you a slave?"

Macrinus released your hand and you pulled it back.

"I was, during your father's time, but I managed to get into the senate. He was a strong and powerful man, your father. A soldier, a dictator, and a tough opponent. I learned a lot from him, Aurelia. But I still couldn't gain his trust, no matter how hard I tried. Fortunately, his sons weren't like him."  He pointed his finger at you. "You're more like your father than they are. I realised the first time I saw you in Egypt. Look, no matter how much you refuse, you can't escape what's coming. I will get what I deserve."

"No, that will never happen. You will lose. No one will remember you."

This time he sounded angry. "I made you a princess! You got your title back thanks to me! How about a little gratitude?”

"I was planning to come here anyway. Vicius and I had been planning to travel to Rome together to find my true family. If circumstances had been different the rebellion hadn't broken out, and the Roman soldiers hadn't come to put it down. That night..." You took a moment to collect your thoughts. Despite the pain that these memories still evoke, you have learned to embrace them because they have led you to meet Marcus. "He had already told me everything, except who my father was. We were going to open the letter together as soon as we arrived in Rome. You only hastened the process.”

"Vicius," he said, sounding annoyed. He then took a deep breath. "I've had some success in this process, but also had a few failures, and that man is one of them. If he'd handed you over to me then, before Geta and Caracalla ascended the throne, things might be different now."

His disrespect for Vicius was unacceptable and made you even angrier.

"What about Gaius? Isn't he also a great failure of yours?"

"Well, not entirely. If he hadn't taken your father's letter to him as an offer to marry you, who knows, he might still be alive now. He was the one who caused his own death. It's in my interest for him to die if there's any chance of him ascending to the throne." He smiled, but then his face turned angry again. "But he's not the biggest failure or obstacle." He said as he approached the bars, his face was close enough to touch the surface of the iron bars. "Acacius. He's the biggest obstacle that needs to be removed from my path, and I'm going to make sure that I do."

You brought your face closer to his. "My husband, Acacius, will be the end of you. You can be sure of that.”

He put a hand to his chin as if he was thinking. "I am doubt about that Aurelia. Because you see, soon, he will be preoccupied with bringing Geta to me. And once he does, I will take your brother's life and that will be the end of your husband as well." He grinned. "My plan is working perfectly and I will get what I want."

"He is not stupid. He will not fall into your trap.”

“He has no choice. He'll do anything to get you back, I know that."

You knew he was right and you hated it.

"Enough talk. Time to take action." He turned towards the guard. "If there's any trouble, kill her."

You swallowed, trying to stay calm. He then bowed his head to you and headed towards the stairs.

As time passed, the atmosphere in the Curia Julia became increasingly tense. Marcus was at breaking point, and Geta was no different. As Octavius rushed into the hall, almost tripping on the stairs, everyone looked at him with curiosity.

"Sir, you need to come outside," he said to Marcus, keeping his voice low.

"Is something wrong?"

Geta stood up and walked towards them.

"What's going on?"

Octavius’ face was grave as he was about to give them bad news. He looked at the councilors and then at his general. "Sir, Macrinus sent a guard to speak with you..." Octavius looked down in distress.

Marcus frowned, wondering if he was about to hear what he feared most.

"What does he want? Speak at once!" Geta shouted.

Julia tried to calm the council members.

"Princess Aurelia..." Octavius exhaled a deep breath. "Macrinus has abducted her-"

Without even thinking, Marcus stormed to the entrance to leave the hall. Geta followed him, but his mother grabbed his arm.

"Your Majesty! You must stay here-"

"You do that!" he said, roughly pulling his arm away from her.

Marcus rushed down the stairs and, noticing the guard Octavius had pointed at, grabbed his sword and held it to the man's throat. The guard let out a little gasp. "Tell me where she is now!' He roared.

All the soldiers and guards tensed and gripped the hilt of their swords.

"General Acacius, Sir Macrinus is waiting for you at his villa." He said, out of breath, struggling to get the words out. "He also said that he wants you to bring Emperor Geta with you."

“How dare he summon me like this?” Geta shouted. "Acacius, round up your men, and let's move to take him out now, shall we?"

The soldiers looked at their general. Seizing the opportunity of Marcus' thoughtful demeanor, Macrinus' guard took a step back.

"Sir Macrinus only wants the general and Emperor Geta." He stated arrogantly. "If you care about the Princess, you'd better do as-”

Suddenly a schwing sound was heard and Octavius's sword severed his jugular, and he collapsed, tumbling down the stairs and staining the marble steps with his blood. They all watched him die with a deadpan expression.

"Why wait? We must leave now Acacius," Geta touched his shoulder.

Marcus shook his head. “No, he'll kill you the moment I take you there, I can't let it.”

"I'm flattered, general, but this is your wife we're talking about, my sister."

Marcus sheathed his sword. "I am aware, but we must act wisely. If we fall into his trap, it will be the end of us all, which is exactly what he wants us to do."

"So we'll just leave Aurelia in his filthy hands?"

Marcus gave him a deadly look. "Don't you dare speak like you care more about my wife than I do!"

"Then act like you do!" Geta barked.

“General Acacius! Emperor Geta!”

They both turned to face the man calling to them. A man in a black cloak, familiar to Marcus, came up the stairs and approached them. The soldiers tensed, but Marcus gestured to them that it was all right.

"Who the hell are you?" Geta asked, squinting at the man.

"I am Lextus, Your Majesty," the man said, bowing. He looked at Marcus and then back at Geta. "I have something very important to tell you, both of you."

"Man of yours?" Geta asked Marcus.

"No, he is a relative of yours, from Leptis Magna, didn't your mother tell you?"

Geta gave him a dirty look.

"Speak up, what's so important?" Marcus asked.

"We've been tracking Macrinus for a while and we know where he is."

"If that's what you wanted to say, you've come in vain," Geta said, pointing to the guard's lifeless body lying at the bottom of the stairs.. "That cunt Macrinus is already waiting for us to go to him."

"It's a trap, he's luring you into it, Your Majesty. The Lady Aurelia is not with him, she is elsewhere," he said, and as soon as he mentioned your name, Marcus and Geta's eyes locked on him. "We know where he's keeping her, that's what I came here to tell you."

Marcus grabbed him by the collar of his cloak. "How do you know? When did you see her? Speak at once!"

"The General asked you a question!" Geta demanded.

Lexus hadn't expected either of them to react this way, he had to take a breath to speak. "Praetorians with Macrinus' lead intercepted Lady Aurelia's carriage in the alleyway. We followed the carriage, which took us straight to Ludus Magnus. We saw Lady Aurelia enter with the guards, and I have men stationed there to keep an eye on things. We are unsure why, but we know some consuls are there."

Geta looked at Marcus. "Why would he take her to the damn gladiator training school? What is he trying to do?"

"Tell me, is Macrinus still there or in his villa?" Marcus demanded.

"He left a few hours ago, we believe he went to there."

"We need to get to Aurelia now!" Geta said.

"The guards will be watching us. If we head there now, they'll inform him. Or even worse, they might hurt her before we get there." Marcus said through clenched teeth.

"What are we going to do then?"

Marcus thought for a moment. He had to think fast and come up with a plan, but he wasn't sure what to do.

It was time to think strategically and take action. As a soldier and general, he was an expert in this. "We need to make some time," he muttered.

"So let's not waste, standing here," Geta whined, adjusting his crown.

Watching him, a plan came to Marcus' mind. "Your Majesty, we must take you to Palatine Hill immediately."

"Are you mad? Macrinus's men are all over the place. Didn't you just say so yourself?”

Marcus exhaled. “That's why we have to leave now. I'm asking you to trust me.”

Geta narrowed his eyes. "In the past, I wouldn't have trusted you, but now I think I do."

"You don't have much choice, after all," Marcus teased as they hurried down the stairs together.

Once Geta was in the carriage, Marcus called Aris over. "Head to the Field of Mars right away and let them know I've ordered the troops to assemble around Macrinus' villa. Try to be as stealthy as you can."

"Yes, sir." He said and quickly walked in the opposite direction.

"The rest of you, come with me," Marcus said. They all nodded and got on their horses.

Geta called out to him as the carriage was moving.  "Acacius, I hope you know what you're doing!"

He still didn't fully trust the other guards accompanying Geta, so he didn't want to tell him his plan yet.

"I need both your patience and your trust, Your Majesty."

"You've got both as long as you save my sister.”

Marcus felt his heart beating faster with worry. He really wanted to come and get you out of there as soon as possible. But he had to think carefully. He knew that if he acted without thinking things through, he might lose you. Besides, he had to be absolutely sure that he got Macrinus this time too.

The guards at Palatine Hill were surprised to see the carriage coming earlier than expected. Geta stepped into the courtyard with Marcus. He tried to take Geta away from the guards, however, two of them came over to them.

"General, we want to help you. We are loyal to the emperor Geta, you can trust us."

Marcus seemed unsure.

"They are in a dilemma because their commander has not yet been chosen, Acacius. Macrinus' side and mine." Geta explained.

"Yes, there are others outside who are on Macrinus' side, sir. But I'm not, and my team here are all loyal to you, highness.”

"You were always so keen to be a Praetorian," Marcus said, looking at the guard. He realised that he was his childhood friend.

"Do you remember me? I thought you might have forgotten." He gave a little smile.

"Yes, you weren't eager to join the army, so I didn't hassle you about it too much."

"I wanted to serve the emperor, General Acacius."

"I see," said Marcus, smiling back.

"I was really proud when I saw you become a general of Rome, you know."

Marcus nodded his thanks.

"That's very touching gentleman, but can you tell us what to do now, our glorious general?" Geta said impatiently.

"Cato!" Marcus called him to his side.

He came running at once. "Sir!"

Marcus put his hand on his shoulder. "We need your help."

Geta frowned. "Isn't that your squire? How can he help us?"

Marcus smiled confidently. "He has the same hair colour and the same size as you, your majesty."

"Excuse me?”

"We're going to confuse them. Could you take off your clothes and give them to Cato?"

Geta opened his eyes wide in surprise. "What did you just say? Tell me you are joking!"

Geta wasn't the only one taken aback. Cato and Octavius exchanged glances, clearly surprised.

Marcus let out a sigh. "He'll take your place, so we won't put you in danger."

"So this is your master plan, Acacius? You seem to have forgotten how clever that cunt is. Sooner or later, he'll figure out that your squire doesn't look handsome as I do." He said smugly. 

"It's not really a concern," Marcus said, grasping Cato's arm. "This buys us some time, at least. Until I get the Aurelia out of there."

They walked together to Geta's chamber. Geta grumbled the whole way but seemed to be convinced at last. Cato looked a bit out of place in the emperor's clothes. He glanced at them hesitantly. Marcus couldn't help but grin when he saw him in Geta's attire. Geta sized him up.

"Ugh, you look like another evil twin of mine! That is all I need!”

"Forgive me, Your Majesty." Cato said, bowing his head.

Marcus held out his hand to Geta. "Your Majesty, can you give me your crown too?"

"Gods above! This is disrespectful and unacceptable, Acacius!"

Marcus rolled his eyes. "It's just a symbol, an item. It has no significance. You don't need the crown to prove that you are an emperor, do you?"

“Huh, you just enjoy lecturing me, don't you?" Geta pursed his lips.

"We're running out of time here."

"Fine!" He gave his crown to him. Cato held his breath as Marcus placed the crown on his head.

"Hmph, if this won't work, I swear on Vesta's fire that I will punish you Acacius."

Marcus smirked in response.

Geta tugged fabric of his gown which made him look like a commoner. '"Whatever, let's get this done as soon as possible and then I shall drink wine until I get drunk so I can forget all about it." He refused to look at their faces as he left his chamber.

As they descended the stairs, Marcus touched Cato on the shoulder. "Keep your face hidden at all costs. Even if they can't see it from a distance, there's still a risk."

"I'll do my best, general."

Marcus tapped his back. "May the Gods be on our side."

And as they approached the entrance to the great courtyard, they put their plan into action.

"Your Majesty, please," Marcus gestured to Geta.

Geta pursed his lips and involuntarily pulled the deep black cloak further up over his head. The gate opened and Marcus approached the carriage with Cato who was in the Emperor's toga, covering his face as naturally as possible. Cato struggled and pretended to resist him. The guards waiting outside, watching them, did not seem to suspect anything. Marcus swiftly pushed Cato into the carriage and told the coachman to start the horses. He then turned to the guards.

"Lead the way!" He said to them. They kicked their horses toward in front of the carriage. Marcus and the others got on their own horses, following the carriage from behind.

The other guards, those who had stayed behind in the palace to protect the real emperor Geta, put on their cloaks over their armour. They were going to take him back to Curia Julia in secret. It was already pretty quiet, as everyone else had left to accompany the false emperor. As per the plan, Marcus must turn his horse around halfway down the road and head for the Domus Vectiliana (Ludus Magnus).

After all, they were acting as if they didn't know where you were, and leading Geta straight into Macrinus' hands which it was not. So the plan was working perfectly. A little later, Marcus glanced at Octavius, and turned his horse round, making the guards surprised. The carriage kept going forward. They looked at each other, unsure of what to do. Their leader cursed and called out to some of them.

"Go after the general! The others stay with me!”

Marcus looked back over his shoulder at the guards who were chasing him as he rode his horse at a gallop. There were five of them. He needed to get rid of them without attracting attention.

"Come on!" He challenged them, drew his sword and turned his horse. He had one of them in his sights. He aimed at his leg and lunged before he could draw his sword, and the man let out a groan and fell off his horse. They were getting closer to the streets.The others yelled and drew their swords, rushing to attack Marcus but he was quick to dodge the attacks of two of them and managed to knock them off their horses. He rode his horse into the alleys to get rid of the rest. People screamed and ran to get out of the way to avoid being crushed by the horses.

"Where the hell is he heading to?" One of them asked the other.

"I think he found out where the princess is! Go there and warn the others before he gets there!”

As soon as they said that, they were both struck down by arrows from nowhere and fell to the ground. Marcus turned and saw Lexus and his men. He stopped his horse and nodded his thanks. Then, without wasting any time, he ordered the curious people out of the way and kicked his horse forward again. Since there was no obstacle in his way, he should be heading to get to you now.

The minutes and hours passed by, and the pain in your legs became increasingly difficult to bear. And you gave up. As you sat on the floor in the cold, smelly, dirty cell, you played with the wedding ring on your finger. Your mind was racing with questions. Why wasn't anyone coming? Or is it too late for everything now? Marcus, Geta... Your heart ached. It was torture, waiting there helplessly, hoping for rescue desperately, unable to do anything. You suddenly felt a pressure under your belly, right where your womb was. You put your hands right on it.

"Ssshh, calm down, my little one. I know you've been through a lot, but hang in there a little longer, please. Your father will come to save us, I promise you. Take his strength, take his courage and hold on. Our little miracle. We will always love you and protect you. So please try to hang in there.”

All of a sudden, a few shouts and the sound of swords clashing came from upstairs. The guards immediately tensed up and gripped the hilts of their swords. You jumped to your feet, unlike them, you felt excitement. Your heart was filled with hope. The sound of the iron gate opening loudly reverberated off the stone walls, and a moment later you saw a guard rolling down the stairs with the deafening sound of his iron armour ringing in your ears. The guards immediately drew their swords at someone on the stairs. First, you heard his angry roar and then Marcus himself rushed down the stairs, kicked one of the guards, and pushed him against the wall. The other swung his sword at him, Marcus crouched and lunged and cut his leg.

"Marcus!" You called out to him cheerfully.

He looked at you and smiled, but the other guard lunged at him, waving his sword.

"Marcus look out!" You pointed at him.

He managed to avoid the lunge at the last moment and hit his opponent in the back with the handle of his sword, causing him to stumble. As he lunged at him again, Marcus drew his pugio and knocked his sword out of his hand with both sword and pugio. And with a really neat move, he cut his neck. The stone walls were covered in a red, rusty-smelling liquid. You ran over to the iron bars and grabbed them. Marcus wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand and looked at you. He looked at you with an intense gaze, his brown eyes sparkling.

"My lady." He said in a soft, velvety voice. "Forgive me for being late." He reached his hand through the bars to touch your face. "How could he imprison you in such a vile place? Did he hurt you?"

You grasped his hand with both of yours and kissed it. "No, I'm alright, don't worry." You forced a smile.

"How can I not, my love? My beloved. My soul. My breath." He then let out a sigh of relief, stroking your chin with his thumb. "Thank the Gods I found you safe and sound." He then gripped the iron bars and jerked them angrily, cursing.

"That man has the key," you said, pointing to one of the guards lying on the floor. Marcus went to him, bent down, and turned his lifeless body to check.

"Geta? Is he okay?”

"He is for now. We don't have much time, though. We need to get out of here now." He took the keys from the man and approached you. He unlocked the cell, setting you free. You took a step towards him and reached out to hug him.

"My lady, there is some blood on me-" You wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his chest. "...and I'm not very clean." He finished his sentence with a murmur.

"I don't care." You said, closing your eyes and hugging him tighter. You ignored the blood smearing your cheek from his armour and the smell of it.

He lifted his hand to touch your hair, but his hand was covered in blood. He clenched his hand into a fist and wrapped his arm around you, inhaling your scent without touching you. He then pulled back.

"Aurelia, we have to leave, now." His voice was firm.

You nodded and walked towards the stairs while avoiding stepping in the puddle of blood on the ground. Marcus noticed your nervousness and wrapped his arms around you, lifting you into his lap. You looked at his face as he walked up the stairs with you in his arms. He looked very serious and stern, and you could guess what he was feeling, and what he was thinking. It must have been hard for him to find you in a situation where he almost lost you somehow, and to fight to make sure that didn't happen. To kill someone every time, to have blood on his hands. But for Marcus, finding you safe and sound was enough, he didn't care about the rest. He walked through the countless guards lying lifeless on the ground and carried you out in his arms. You were angry that he had to kill them because of Macrinus. It was all his fault, so many people had died because of him so far. Marcus lowered you to the ground beside his horse.

"It may be a bit of a rough ride, but try to hold on, will you?"

You nodded. "I can manage.”

He smiled and moved the saddle back a little so you could sit on it. He then settled in front of you. You put your arms around his waist. Marcus took hold of your arms around him. "Hold on tighter, princess."

Even though you couldn't see his face, you knew he was smiling. He grabbed the horse's reins and kicked his horse forward. You wrapped your arms around him as tightly as you could. With each jolt, your cheek bumped against his back.

"Where are we heading now?" You asked.

As you passed the Colosseum, you noticed the sun was setting over the hills ahead.

"First, I'll take you to the Curia Julia."

You tilted your head to get a better look at his face. "I'm not coming with you?"

He raised an eyebrow and looked at you out of the corner of his eye. "No, Aurelia, I've got a few platoons of my soldiers heading to the area around Macrinus' villa. We need to get ready for the upcoming skirmish."

"You're going to fight the Praetorian Guards?"

He sighed, “I hope not. But if it's necessary to finish off Macrinus, yes.”

You swallowed, nothing was over yet. "Why Curia Julia?"

"Geta is there with the other consuls. The rest of the guards will be guarding them. It's the safest place for you right now.”

Marcus pulled up his horse near the stairs of the Curia Julia. He dismounted and then led you down. A few of the guards came over and nodded at you.

"If there's any trouble, make sure you keep Princess Aurelia and Emperor Geta safe." He spoke to one of them in a firm tone.

"We shall protect them with our lives, general! You just finish him off!" The man put his hand on his chest. "Vae victis.”

Marcus replied. "Vae victis." Then he mounted his horse quickly and looked at you.

"Come back safely!" You said, looking at him.

He nodded and turned his horse around, kicking it forward. You watched him leave until he was out of sight.

"This way, my lady," the guard said.

You felt abandoned as you climbed the stairs with him. Soon you heard a familiar voice.

"Sister!" You looked towards Geta's voice and your eyes widened in surprise. He was wearing a black cloak over regular attire. And what's more, he was in an official building like the Curia Julia with it.

He hugged you and pulled back to look at you. "I was so worried about you, are you alright?"

You nodded your head, it was a little strange to see him like this. "What happened to your fancy toga and crown?"

"Your husband's ingenious plan." He said, rolling his eyes. "Come, rest inside. Your face is as white as marble." He put his arm around you and pulled you inside.

As dusk fell, Marcus was urging his horse to a rapid pace, hastening towards Macrinus' villa. What he saw coming down the hill wasn't quite what he'd expected. His troops had already arrived and it was clear that a battle had taken place and probably been won, but Macrinus was nowhere to be seen.

"General!" One of the soldiers recognised him.

Marcus looked around and noticed Cato in the distance, who was wounded near the carriage ahead. Felix and Aris came over to him. "What the hell happened?" He asked them.

"Sir, the plan worked, but Macrinus wounded Cato and then they attacked us. We managed to kill them all, but unfortunately, he escaped and we couldn't stop him."

"How do you mean he escaped?" Marcus’ voice was like a roar.

"Octavius and a few soldiers went after him, sir."

"Which way did they go?"

"That way," Aris said, pointing down the hill.

"I'll go after them. All of you gather around at once. Take the wounded ones to the Field of Mars."

"Sir, what about them?"

Marcus looked in the direction he was pointing and saw the members of the senate who were loyal to Macrinus. They were looking at him with a look of concern on their faces.

"The rest of you, take them to the Roman Forum and wait there for my arrival." He said, looking at them from a distance. "Can you confirm that the other troops are still controlling the entrances and exits to the city?"

"Yes, sir. The city is currently sealed off."

"Good." He said, pulling on the reins of his horse, which reared up with a loud neigh. "Make them assemble at once and get moving!" He commanded.

As he rode, perhaps faster than he had ever ridden before, determined to catch Macrinus at any cost, he realised that he missed his horse, Dromos. He promised himself that when all this was over, he would return home and see his old friend again. And then he could go out riding with you again. However, at the moment, he just had to focus on finding and getting rid of the source of all his recent problems. Before long, he heard the sound of swords clashing, so he rode towards it. He saw his soldiers and the guards were fighting, but they seemed to be getting along.

"Octavius is following him, sir!" a soldier pointed ahead. Then he killed the guard he was fighting, and he jumped on his horse to follow his general. The other one did the same too.

Marcus was soon excited to realise that Octavius was running after Macrinus on foot. He was very close. Marcus called out to the soldiers behind him.

"Block his way!”

They did as he said and rode their horses around either side of Macrinus, to block him from going any further. He realised this and started running backwards. Marcus seized the chance and leaped off his horse to capture him. They ended up rolling on the ground together. Macrinus tried to fight back, but he was so tired that he gave up and collapsed, taking a few punches to the face from Marcus in the process.

The others walked towards their General. All of them stared down at the panting, treacherous, sixty-year-old dark-skinned man. Marcus drew his sword, Macrinus cursed, crawled back. But Marcus did something that even surprised himself. He thrust his sword into the ground right next to Macrinus.

Octavius touched his shoulder, "Sir." There were a lot of questions in his tone.

‘We're heading to the Roman Forum. Bring him along."

The soldiers looked at each other, confused.

"But sir..." Octavius protested.

"This cunt must be punished by the emperor Geta himself."

Macrinus gave a hysterical laugh, but it was clear he was upset with that decision.

"You don't deserve a painless death," he said, looking at him. "I'm sure the emperor has far more creative ideas for you."

The atmosphere in the Curia Julia was palpably tense, with everyone visibly anxious and on the brink of exhaustion. The noise was unbearable and it was giving you a headache. But Geta was determined. He had no intention of sending anyone home yet. This will be solved today, he said. He made you sit in the imperial seat that belonged to Caracalla, since you were exhausted, you didn't object, despite Julia's glare. Furthermore, it was clear that the Consuls had other matters to discuss, and did not care the fact that you were sitting there. Fortunately the murmuring of the crowd was soon heard outside, and everyone turned their heads in the direction of the footsteps approaching the hall.

Your heart pounded with both excitement and nervousness. You felt immense relief when you saw Marcus a short while later. Geta leapt to his feet and looked at him, his eyes wide open. Since you focused on Marcus' face and only later realised who he had brought to the middle of the great hall. When Macrinus fell to his knees on the floor, the consuls first looked at him in astonishment and then started shouting.

"Traitor!"

"He should be beheaded!"

"Throw him from Tarpeian Rock!"

Geta raised his hand and they all fell silent. You and Marcus looked at each other from a distance, wondering why he hadn't killed him. However, he was in a good mood and you were grateful to finally see his sincere smile.

"General Acacius." Geta called him. "On behalf of the Roman people, I am grateful to you for capturing this traitor and bringing him before me, before the Council. He will be judged here, before Roman law, and his final sentence will be given. The council is now in session."

"Your Majesty," someone stated. "I am afraid a council session is not yet feasible in these circumstances. Since your crown is absent and the attire you are wearing is not fit for this occasion. Furthermore, I must point out that it is inappropriate for two women to be present at this time. I demand that the necessary conditions be imposed."

And they all murmured, some agreeing and some objecting.

"Denied!" Geta said firmly. The man frowned and sat down. "Even without my crown, my true identity remains unchanged. Also, the women you are referring to are my mother, your empress, and my sister, your Princess, Aurelia."

Marcus looked at him with a confident half-smile. You could see the pride in his look.

Geta continued. "If there are no other ridiculous objections I will continue. You have all been waiting here all morning, so I will formalise things for the sake of Rome before I tire you out any further."

He silenced the murmurs and continued. His speech took everyone by surprise, including you. At the end of the session, the verdict was reached: Caracalla was declared a tyrant, and all his decrees, orders, wills, and other belongings were declared null and void. Macrinus tried to object several times, but no one dared to stand up for him or support him. Now it was his turn to be punished.

"He was really into training these gladiators and investing in them. Then I'd like to give him a fitting punishment." Geta said with a grin. Then he turned to him. "You will be thrown into the Colosseum, along with the rest of your followers. Your fate will be decided by the gods and the people of Rome." He looked at the guards. "Now get him out of my sight, I don't want to see his ugly face anymore."

Ignoring the pleas of the councilors who had helped Macrinus, Geta closed the session and everyone began to murmur once more. He came over to you, a big grin on his face.

"I can't wait to see that wretched Macrinus in the Colosseum tomorrow!"

You smiled in response. "You did well, brother."

He smiled widely. Marcus approached you both. Geta looked at him.

"Acacius, I'm surprised you didn't kill him, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't glad. It'll be fun tomorrow!" He said, clapping his hands. He winked at you and then went over to his mother.

You looked at Marcus. "I think it's finally over now. We can rest easy, can't we?"

"Yes, my lady," he said, holding your hand. "It's over now.”

You just stared at each other for a while, speaking through your eyes. The councilors left the hall, murmuring, while Geta and his mother had a brief argument. All of this faded into the background for you.

"Looks like we'll be spending another night on Palatine Hill."

Marcus smirked. "One last night. Then tomorrow we'll be heading back to the villa, our home."

You smiled. "Thank the Gods. I miss our home so much."

"I know, me too. Shall we leave now? I need a good bath, and as my wife, you can help me, can't you?" He smirked.

You lifted your head to whisper in his ear. "Anything you wish, my love.”

You arrived at Domus Severiana in the late afternoon. As soon as you stepped into the courtyard, you ordered the slaves to prepare the balneum for you two.

The stone walls of the balneum were softly caressed by the soothing steam of the hot water, while a variety of flowers floated on the surface, their sweet scent creating a tranquil atmosphere in this spacious bath house.  Marcus was in the water, his head thrown back and his eyes closed. You were right behind him, running your slender fingers over his flesh, rubbing his arms and shoulders, helping him to recover from the fatigue of the day.

"Your healing touch has refreshed my body and soul," he murmured. Then he took your hand and brought it to his lips, his collarbone, his chest, running it all over his body. Then he turned towards you, his movement causing some of the water to spill over. You swallowed as his eyes traveled over your naked body, your heart racing with excitement. He reached out for you, grabbed you around the waist, and pulled you into the water. "Now it's my turn to touch you.”

This time the water overflowed, and a lot of the flowers on the surface ended up floating away.

You giggled as Marcus ran his lips along your neck to your collarbone. "You meant to touch me with your lips? But I am in the water, so how are you going to touch the rest of my body I wonder?" You asked playfully.

"I sense a challenge." He murmured, his warm breath brushing against your collarbone. "I shall accept." He then grabbed your hips and lifted you, placing you on his shoulders. His head was between your thighs, your heels touched his back. You moaned with pleasure and laughed as his lips touched your folds. Your back arched instinctively as you felt his tongue in your most sensitive spot. You gripped his grey hair tightly with your fingers.

"Marcus! I am going to- ow!"

"Isn't it too soon, my love?"

You looked down at his face and saw that he was grinning.

"No, I meant to say that I'm going to fall, not come.”

He pulled his head back, supported your back with one hand and lowered you down onto the edge of the tub. "I've been a bit busy, I must have misheard." He grinned again. Without getting out of the water, he pulled you closer and continued where he left off. He stuck his marvellous tongue out and licked your most sensitive spot. You gasped and hitched your legs around his head, drawing him closer. He rolled his tongue up and down as he used his hand to probe at your lower lips. His beard tickled you as your breathing quickened. Adrenaline flooded your body as your pulled on his hair, bringing him closer, as he sucked and consumed you mercilessly. You bucked into him and he responded in turn with a little nip. You threw your head back as you gasped once more, feeling like you were losing your mind. Shaking, sweating, your entire body pulsed with pleasure as you clamped your legs around him.

You moaned loudly. "I am definitely coming this time!"

"Come for me, my love. Let me taste you.”

And immediately after his command, you came with a loud moan. Marcus kissed your belly and grabbed you by the hips, pulling you into the water. He kissed you on the lips with great passion, you wrapped your arms around him. The water made everything a little slippery, but Marcus was determined to grip your hips roughly, puling you closer. You wrapped your legs firmly against his waist, feeling his need press against you in the most delicious way. You couldn't stop your moans with each and every thrust and neither could he, and you began to feel him deeply inside you, he thrust deeper and deeper, pushing you both closer and closer to the edge. He grabbed your hair, gathering behind the nape of your neck and pulling your face closer, claiming your mouth with his teeth and imploring tongue. And you came for him once more, moaning into his mouth. He then reached his climax right after with a groan.

Breathing heavily, you slumped in the tub, he was holding you close, kissing your chin then beneath your ear. You listened to the peaceful sound of water echoing off the damp walls until your breathing calmed. Without pulling out, he wrapped his arms around you and you rested your head on his shoulder. Once your both breathing and racing hearts had calmed, he stood up and led you out of the tub too.

On the following day, the capital of Rome was on the brink of witnessing one of the most momentous days in its history. The Council's decision, Geta's proclaiming absolute emperorship to the entire populace, was followed by the announcement of the execution of the traitor Macrinus and his supporters in the Colosseum.  As the sun reached its zenith, people were making their way towards the colossal structure, engaged in quiet conversation.

The emperor's carriage soon arrived near the Colosseum, where the people greeted Geta with great enthusiasm. You and Marcus were in the other carriage, which you got out of together and waved to the people who were cheering your name. The trumpets were blown, and as you walked towards the Imperial tribune, the announcer called out Geta's name. Everyone stood up and cheered him enthusiastically.

“Caesar! Caesar! Caesar! Caesar!”

Geta raised his hands and gave them the salute, then turned to you and held out his hand. And then they announced your name. You took Geta's hand and stood next to him.

"Princess Aurelia!"

The crowd clapped and cheered even more enthusiastically. You placed your right hand on your chest and saluted the crowd. It was then time for Marcus's name to be announced.

“General Marcus Justus Acacius!”

The crowd roared his name over and over.

“Acacius! Acacius! Acacius! Acacius!”

Marcus gave them a smile and a salute in return. Caracalla's seat has been removed and two seats have been added on either side of the emperor, as per his orders. At Geta's gesture, you took the seat next to him, and Marcus sat next to you.

And the trumpets sounded again. The announcer cut them off and carried on:

"For his treachery against the life of the Emperor and the Roman Empire, Marcus Opellius Macrinus is declared an enemy of the people. He has been stripped of his membership of the Senate and all those who aided and abetted him will bring to the arena in chains today, to face judgement, your judgement, people of Rome!"

When the iron gate sprung open, Macrinus and his supporters were brought into the middle of the arena in chains. The crowd booed them.

"Traitor! Traitor! Traitor! Traitor!"

The Announcer called the crowd to silence, listed his crimes one by one, which Macrinus replied with a smug smile.

Crowded roared. “Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!”

Geta stood up and went over to the balustrade. But then he glanced back at you and beckoned you over. You looked at Marcus and stood up, grabbing his hand and pulling him along with you. He didn’t resist and followed you.

"What do you think, sister? Mercy?"

All three of you were looking at Macrinus. Julia, who was watching you from behind, seemed angry with Geta for not calling her mother to his side. She crossed her arms and made a face.

Looking at Macrinus from a distance, you shook your head. "No mercy." You said firmly.

Geta smiled and looked at Marcus. "Acacius?"

"Having mercy on the traitor is a betrayal to the innocent!" Said Marcus without taking his eyes off Macrinus. You smiled and held his hand, he was so right.

Geta put his arms up. "The gods have spoken!" And then he lowered both hands down. The executioner nodded and separated Macrinus's head from his body in a single stroke.

The crowd cheered. It was the first time you'd ever felt so relieved that a man was dead. Marcus let out a deep sigh, feeling the same way. When it was the turn of the other traitors, they shared Macrinus' fate too. Marcus leaned towards Geta. "Speak to your people, Your Majesty, show that you are a true emperor. They need it."

Geta looked at him, then nodded. He took a deep breath.

"The people of Rome! I promise you that from now on I will restore Rome to its rightful glory! During my reign, there will no longer be any Romans who are hungry or poor. I pledge that no Roman rights will be infringed upon, and that all will enjoy equal conditions. I promise you, as your emperor, that I will strive to make Rome the greatest empire in the world!"

You and Marcus looked at each other as the crowd continued to cheer and applaud, their enthusiasm growing. This was precisely what you had hoped to hear. It seemed that the people were also pleased. You admired Geta's personal development and believed with all your heart that he would do what he promised.

Now it was time. It was time for you and your husband to return to your home in peace.

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[luveline]

𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

six | chapter list

Finding out you’re a princess isn’t half as intimidating as suddenly acquiring a full-time bodyguard. Especially when that bodyguard is disarmingly handsome, charming, and can’t seem to stop flirting with you. 

bodyguard!james, fem!reader, implied chubby!reader, shy!reader, princess diaries au, all characters in their 20s or older, star-crossed lovers/ forbidden romance, slowburn, background wolfstar

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“Why aren’t you hitting me?” James asks. 

The safety mat under your feet does little to assuage your fears. James Potter is perhaps the last person on earth you’d expect to hurt you, and yet you can’t shake the image of him deflecting your punch and sending you reeling. 

With his lovely curls slicked away from his face, his nice mouth, the curve of it where he’s smiling encouragingly, you don’t really want to hit him. 

“I can’t,” you say. 

“Yes, you can. One day you might have to, and I need to know you can do it without breaking your own hand.” The no nonsense tone he’d tended to sport when you first met barely three weeks ago is seemingly gone, replaced by a friendly, almost cavalier tone. Like this is fun. “It won’t hurt you much, I swear. And you should get your revenge. I hit you pretty hard.” 

“You didn’t hit me,” you say. “The door did.” 

“It was my fault.” He smiles, readjusting his stance with feet planted firmly against the mat. 

“James…” 

“Just hit me,” he says. 

You tense your fist around your thumb and hit him square in the chest. It’s not a punch by any means, a weak landing of your knuckles that doesn’t move him. Still, you’re surprised with yourself, checking his face for a sign that you’d done any damage. 

“There are so many people who’d love to punch me,” he laughs, nodding to your hand, “you can do better than that, if only to do what they couldn’t.” 

“I don’t want to hit you, James.” 

“I know, you have to. Come on, it’s easier than you think. You bring your first back to your shoulder and you move into it, okay? Use your weight to do the work. You’ll never hurt anyone if you don’t.” 

“I’d rather not, though.” 

“I know that, too, but you might need to. God forbid you be in a situation where I’m not there to protect you,” —here he does something strange with his eyebrows you’ve yet to encounter, sending a straight shot of butterflies through you, their wings fluttering in the soft part of your throat— “but you don’t have to be defenceless if I’m not. Give me a good swing and I’ll make sure Marlene has that pear ice cream at dinner tonight.” 

“Marlene would make it if I asked,” you say unsurely.

“But if you hit me, I’ll ask for you.” 

“You can be very manipulative.”

“Sometimes. Alright, hit me. Or I’ll tackle you again. You didn’t like that last time.” 

Obviously you hadn’t enjoyed being tackled, because James hadn’t hurt you, he’d simply overpowered you. In one sense, it had been panicky to realise you were at someone’s mercy. James had grabbed you simply behind the back with your chests pressed together and hooked his calf behind your legs, taking them from under you, and following you to the ground. You didn’t like it because he didn’t hurt you, he’d pressed his weight into yours with an arm tight across your chest, just under your throat, and you could smell his hair. Smell almond or jojoba or– or something warm. 

It isn’t that you have feelings for James. You don’t know him well enough. But having someone like James pressing down on you was impossible to ignore, consciously and subliminally.

You really don’t want to do this, drawing your arm back, tightening your first two fingers. James’ eyes widen, his lips falling open as you hit him hard enough to bruise a half inch from his heart. He stumbles and you follow, before flinching back hard, tucking shameful arms to your chest. 

“Sorry!” you burst. “Fuck, sorry! I thought you were ready!” 

“I was ready.” James grins widely. “Awesome. Do that again, yeah? Let’s have one on the cheek this time.” 

“I am not punching you in the face.” 

“You could always aim somewhere softer. The point is to incapacitate me. Hitting me in the chest won’t do that.” He rubs a hand into his shirt, the dark compression material barely moving. “You might have bruised me, though. I’m a good teacher.” 

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you say. 

James deliberates. He tips his head back, showing you the rather nice point of his chin and his neck. A beauty mark sits nestled atop his Adam's apple. 

“Alright. Sorry. No more hitting. Maybe we’ll give the offensive a break for a while and go back to defence again in a few days?” he suggests. 

You relax. 

You’re wearing clothes you’re not used to, a compression shirt like James’, a pair of dark trousers of a similar material with loose ends. Sirius had done some online shopping with you, not worrying as your elbows brushed. He pointed at things and you’d given weak yesses or resolute nos. The total had climbed and climbed, and Sirius had taken your choking for self-preservation. “Not to worry,” he’d said, grinning, “the royal coffers will pay for this lot.” 

It doesn’t feel real. Endless money with no limit nor reason. He’d opened Curry’s swiftly after and asked you what laptop you wanted for uni. He’d attempted to goad you into two. 

It’s alien. All of it, even James across from you where he’s sitting now to put his trainers back on. He doesn’t feel anymore real than the day you met, this handsome, tall boy tasked with keeping you safe. You’ve never been someone’s number one priority. 

“Come and put your shoes on, lovely.” 

You’re not sure how to cope with that, either. He and Sirius both seem quick to coddle when you’re distracted, and you’re distracted often. You shrug away your thoughts, relaxing your tight shoulders as you cross the empty gym to sit next to him. Your trainers are new, too, a sporty pair that cost more money than your last three pairs combined. 

“It’s nice to have new things,” you confess, “but odd.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I… I’ve been wearing the same pair of converse for two years. I had one pair of proper shoes, and one bag. One purse. And I didn’t mind it, just… just, it makes you feel sick sometimes when you want stuff. It’s embarrassing.”

If James is surprised at your sudden admission, he doesn’t show it. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of in wanting things,” he says, hands braced on his knees, “but I can guess why you might’ve felt like that. We try not to think about the things we want because that can make not having it worse.” 

What couldn’t you have? you think, searching his expression for a hint. 

“I’m glad it’s nice,” he furthers, tapping his heel against yours. “They look good. Are they comfortable?” 

“They feel like I’m wearing socks half the time.” 

James nods appreciatively. “Well, get them on. We’ll nip into the pharmacist before we go home, do you have your sunglasses?” 

“It’s too grey outside for sunglasses, we look ridiculous.” 

“You look like the front page of every newspaper. Ever. In the entire western world. Here, put your hoodie on.” 

You and James leave the gym with a wave to the women at the front desk and begin down the street. James hates the city obviously, wrinkling his nose at the grey cobbled streets and all of its sooty puddles. He walks from place to place rigid as a tentpole, swerving in front of you the second that someone looks at you too long. You wonder if this is what having a boyfriend is like. James is constantly making sure you’re safe, that you’re on the right side of the pavement, that you’re warm and fed and smiling. But you don’t suppose a boyfriend gets paid to spend time with you, nor do they spend nights on the lumpy sofa in the living room when they’re too tired to drive home at the end of a long shift. 

You think without wanting to of James climbing into bed with you, a split second of his warm arm over your back, and shake it away as he pulls you into the pharmacy. 

“Can you look at something else?” you ask, turning to him as you pull off your silly sunglasses. 

James raises his eyebrows. “Whatever for?” 

“I need stuff.” 

“I know you need stuff. You asked me if we could come here. Which, by the way, you don’t need to do. You’re supposed to boss me around.” 

You look over a shelf of shampoos and deodorants and begin reading their labels. James took you shopping the day after you got back, but you’d been stuck in your old ways and what you didn’t skimp on, you forgot. You eye a large bottle of shampoo that brags deep moisture for your hair type and take it from the shelf, then the matching conditioner, and then its hair mask. Your shoulders curl forward, worried James will think you greedy or sad or something in between, but he just says, “Pass them here, Princess.” 

“It’s fine, I can–”

“I’ll have them. I’ll go get a basket.”

He scoops everything into big hands and walks back to the pharmacy’s entrance. 

It’s a big pharmacy, modern, with white walls and bright fluorescent lights behind shelves. You catch yourself in a mirror next to a stand of cosmetics and wince. You look odd in these sporty clothes. Your nose is shiny. 

You wipe your face with your sleeve and stare at the cosmetics with no clue what to get. Should’ve asked Sirius to come. Or better yet, someone who regularly wears makeup. Only thing is, you don’t really know anybody who does. 

“You don’t have to rush,” James says, joining you at the makeup section, such a long walk from the shampoos. “Did you sprint down here?” 

You’d speed-walked past the sexual health aisle actually, but James doesn’t need to be privy to that information. “You don’t want to be here all day.” 

“I want to be exactly where you are. If that’s looking at lip gloss, then so be it.” 

You smile, a little shy, a little rueful, and turn your attention back to the lip glosses in question. There’s browns and pinks, blush-rose red and moodier cherries. “I don’t…” 

“That one,” James says, poking a barrel with confidence, “would suit you. And this one, too. You’ll look lovely.”

You don’t know what to say. The colours he’s chosen get added to your basket without comment, after you’ve wrestled it out of his unwilling hands. You spend a few minutes spready tester shades of concealer against the back of your hand, where James again recommends the one that matches your skin tone best. He leans behind you, and he does his job, sweeping the aisles and giving the shop a long up and down every once in a while, but for the most part he acts like he’s there to be there. 

You get to the bit of the pharmacy you’d come for initially, the shorter but well-stocked supplement and vitamin aisle. Realistically, you aren’t going to take ten different vitamins a day, and with Marlene’s cooking it isn’t as though you need them, but there are things you’ve always craved. Biotin and collagen, for healthier hair and nails. Multi-nutrient sachets for every day, the good stuff, and so expensive your eyes initially skip over them. 

Your hand hesitates in front of a box and James makes a warm humming noise. 

“They look promising.”

“I’ve never had them before.”

“I have a killer magnesium deficiency,” James says. “I usually take the magnesium and zinc, but that throws my copper out of whack.” 

You can’t tell if he’s messing with you. You smile at him, not quite stickily but getting there, your cheeks appled with it. “Not your copper.” 

“It’s not funny, Princess. It makes me want to sleep all day.” 

“Not funny,” you agree, grabbing the box of sachets and placing them atop the new electric toothbrush you’d fancied. You feel gluttonous and weird with it, because you don’t suppose you really need one, but James had only said That’s a nice colour. 

“James,” you say, meandering with him toward the tills, “you didn’t need anything, did you?” 

He grins at you like you’ve said something different. “I have everything I need, don’t worry.” 

“You sure?” 

His eyes seem lighter, then. Amber flecks in the browned honey of his irises. “Promise.” 

He tries to get you to visit the perfume counter, but the basket is getting heavy and you’ve spent enough as it is. Not even a tenth, a hundredth, a thousandth of what you have now at your disposal, but so much more than you ever would’ve before. 

The lady at the till eyes James behind you. She beams when James opens his wallet and passes you the card you were given by Sirius for expenses, and laughs when you refuse to take it. “I have mine,” you say, “this is all for me, I can pay.” 

“Technically it’s your upkeep,” James argues. 

“James.” You pass the cashier your card as James frowns. 

“I wish my boyfriend offered so quickly,” the cashier says. 

You go hot all over, but before you can tell her James isn’t your boyfriend, he’s laughing and taking the handles of your heavy pink carrier, pulling it toward him as the cashier sorts your receipt. “I shouldn’t have tried, really.” 

“It’s the thought that counts.” She hands you your receipt. “You should to let him pay, chick, especially if he’s offering.” 

“Maybe next time,” you appease. 

You’re still flushed when you and James break outside again, the cold a blessed relief. James lets your pink bag rest in the crook of his arm, while the other hovers behind you, looking around the street unhurried. “Anywhere else you want to go, chick?” he asks. 

You laugh. “She was nice.” 

“Very motherly.” 

“I want to go home, I think. Did you need anything else?” 

“I do all my shopping when I’m not working.” 

“When aren’t you working?” you ask genuinely. “You spend more than half the day at my flat, and when you leave– if you leave, it’s night time.” You give him a sideways glance. “I have nothing else to do today.” 

James contemplates this. “I– I’ve been meaning to get Sirius a gift. It’s his birthday next week, did you know?” 

“No! When?” 

“The third.” 

“What does he like?” 

James beckons toward a neon signed music shop. “He loves music. Music and the macabre, you know, like, horror movies. And he reads, despite what he might have you believe.” 

You fall into step. “Alright. You’ll have to tell me what to buy.” 

Again, he gives you a look like you’ve said something different, like you’ve said something lovely. 

“I can do that,” James says. “I won’t steer you wrong.”

—

Later that evening, after another tentative hour in the car with James’ patient coaching, you return home to shower. It’s luxurious and strenuous simultaneously. The new hair mask is fragrant and silky between your fingers, leaving the bathroom thick with its smell, the warm air clouding the windows. You hurry between the bathroom and your bedroom in a bath sheet and pretend you don’t notice James’ head tipping in your direction. 

“Everything alright?” he calls to your bedroom door. 

You spy on him through the gap. “I’m fine. Sorry I took so long.” 

“Remus has asked if he can come early and have dinner with us.” 

“He doesn’t need to ask!” you call, closing the door soundly. 

It will be nice to have Remus for dinner. He doesn’t have to tell you what fork to use here, you only have one kind, but he explains the heritage or main flavours of each dish and doesn’t make you feel embarrassed when you don’t know the Genovian Marlene uses. Honestly, you hadn’t even realised Genovia had a language, a hodge podge, Remus says, of Italian and French. And Remus has a steady voice that feels evidence of his more humble background —he’s like you, you’ve found out, working class and humbly brought up. He attended their boarding school on a scholarship of academic prowess, and served as a prefect for all seven years. 

“How exhausting,” you’d said. 

“With those two? You wouldn’t believe it.” 

His disdain was feigned, mostly. It’s why you’re excited to have him for dinner. When the boys are together, they end up telling you stories about their hijinks at school, and you get to peek into the window of their lives, see their fondness for one another in praises and shoulder squeezes and their ridiculous nicknames. 

You haven’t managed to ask about them yet. They slip out every once in a while, and in multiple variations. Moony, Moons, Moon and Pads, Pad, Padfoot. Remus’ you’ve deduced from a story they told, how Remus could be oh so moody when he wasn’t very well, like a wolf, a werewolf. Isn’t that clever for a gang of twelve year olds? Lupin, the wolf boy. You have a feeling it didn’t start out as a particularly kind nickname, but it morphed into a loving moniker later on. Sirius’ nickname, however, you’ve no chance at working out. Padfoot? 

And Prongs? You assume James had a nasty run in with a fork. 

You dress in soft, new clothes. Prongs, you think, doesn’t suit him at all. The James you know is only ever prickly when you’re at risk. He doesn’t flinch when you panic, never hardens. He has a soft hand for your back whenever you need a pat. 

Your socks slide on the living room tiles as you make your way in. James is clicking away on his phone, a dark business phone with many, many buttons. It’s dwarfed by his hand. He swears under his breath. 

“Everything okay?” you ask softly. 

James looks up and his gaze snags on you, his head tilted to his phone and his eyes steadfast where they look you over. “Fine. Nice shower?” 

You’re rich now. Every shower is nice, the boiler turned to a high six, hot water neverending. 

“It was good. Where’s Sirius?” 

“I’m actually not sure.” 

“Isn’t that your job?” 

“No. And if it were I wouldn’t know anyways.” He turns back to his phone. “He’s a slippery one, Pads,” he murmurs, “I couldn’t really keep track of him if I tried.” 

You feel as though you’ve caught him at a bad time. Restless, you turn away from him and head for your small kitchen, unsurprised to find Marlene still cooking and the continued remodelling of your kitchen. Old countertops find themselves housing new oiled cutting boards. Your grody cooker seems small beneath a HexClad Dutch oven, where oil bubbles and spits lightly, dough cuts set on a baking sheet beside it. 

“Hi, Marlene. What are you making?” you ask curiously. 

She grins at you from over her shoulder. “Apple cider doughnuts. I’ve made cinnamon sugar, do you mind it?” 

“What’s the thermometer?” you ask. 

She laughs at you lightly. She’s used to you dodging questions. “Just making sure I don’t set your house alight. At home I can do this by eye, but it’s finicky with your oven. She’s temperamental.” 

“Sorry.” 

Marlene waves a hand. “You want to try?” 

“I’ll just be in your way.” 

“No, you won’t. Frying doughnuts is fun, here. I’ve put each of them on a bit of greaseproof paper. They slide right off.” 

Marlene doesn’t usually take no for an answer. She’s not bossy, but decisive. You’re hesitant at first of the boiling oil and the greaseproof paper doesn’t cooperate when you try it, but eventually you’ve freed a crispy bit of paper from the dough, watching patiently as Marlene turns the doughnuts. She tells you about the dark colour you’re searching for, “I’ve put apples in the dough, see, so they’ll come to a brilliant dark colour without burning. We’ll have them with ice cream or whatever you like.” 

”James told you I wanted it?” you ask shyly. 

“James didn’t mention you at all, he just begged a bit for it. He can be quite pathetic when he needs to be.”  

“I resent that!” James calls. 

Sirius and Remus arrive in their usual pair, Remus tall and light to Sirius’ tighter darkness. Remus wears glasses today, black thin frames perched atop a scar on his nose. Sirius is being himself, poking at them and reminding Remus that just because he is an insufferable swat doesn’t mean he has to look like one. 

“You’re worse than insufferable,” Remus says. When he sees you, he brightens. “Ah, Princess. James hasn’t injured you, that’s brilliant.” 

“And you clearly haven’t killed him in a motor vehicular disaster,” Sirius says cheerfully. “Praise be.” 

“We’re both fine,” you say. 

“Were you worried about us?” James asks. 

“I wasn’t worried about you, James,” Remus says with a smirk. 

You eat as you have every day for the week since you’ve been home: around the coffee table, five plates and drinks rearing to get knocked over and ruin it all. Your knees press into Remus’ on the left and Marlene’s on the right. James sits across from you now that Frank’s shown up for his night shift, digging in with vigour, beaming around his fork as Sirius gives him a good nudge. So many people in your crammed flat. It doesn’t seem real. Half the time, they’re just here to keep you company. 

Paid to keep me company, you think, biting your tongue as you do. This isn’t… real. 

Something taps you under the table. James’ hand, you find, long fingers pressing soft into your kneecap. You quickly lift your head again to find him frowning at you mildly. Okay? he mouths. 

“Bit my tongue,” you say. 

“Ouch,” Remus says. 

James pokes his lip with his tongue. “Be careful,” he says eventually. 

You ignore whatever it is he’s not saying and pick at your food instead. For dinner, Marlene has made a traditional Genovian pasta dish heavy with red pesto and steak. It isn’t what you’re expecting, used to the paler whites and greens of the last week's worth of dinner. James couldn’t be enjoying it more, and Sirius has pledged his undying love to Marlene three or four times since you sat down. 

“Jesus, I barely miss Genovia when you cook like this,” he says. “I will happily serve my country.” 

“Unlike before, when you were here unhappily,” Remus teased. 

Sirius looks you dead in the eye. “Princess, I would follow you anywhere. Marlene is an added bonus.” 

“I– I really wish you guys wouldn’t call me that.” 

Sirius looks gently chastened. “Sorry, sorry. It’s muscle memory at this point. If I called Princess Julianna by anything but her title, she would’ve had me drawn and quartered in the royal courtyards, is all.” 

“And the rest,” James snorts. 

“I try not to address her at all,” Remus says to himself. 

Everyone laughs. You join in a second later, wondering about your unknown cousin. “She was rather spoiled, wasn’t she?” you ask. 

“You’d think she’d tone it down some. Her royal status is rather tenuous, you know.” 

James gives Sirius a look. Careful, it says. 

“What do you mean?” you ask. 

“Well, she’s a royal by marriage, not blood. We explained that, didn’t we?” 

James had said it was complicated. You’d been too startled about your own royal status to inspect it any further. “She’s not a Renaldi?” you ask. 

As it’s explained, your uncle (uncle! who is indeed royal by blood, and the eldest son) forwent the throne when it became clear he wouldn’t be allowed to marry a divorced lover otherwise (reminiscent of certain British scandals). Said divorced lover already had a daughter, a young Julianna. And so your uncle remained a prince but not a king, and Julianna became a princess, to the ire of half the country. 

Traditions have changed in time, but Julianna still lacks Renaldi blood. 

“It drives her mad,” James says. He’s leaning back against the armchair now, dinner finished, a big glass of apple cider in his hands. 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” you say. “Sorry, I sound horrible, just. She wasn’t super friendly.” 

“It would’ve been better for everyone if she was,” Sirius says. 

You wait for him to continue. Marlene prompts him, “You think so?” 

“Well, yes, I suppose. Anything is better than a country ruled by Baron Riddle. Evil, loathsome man. He thinks that nobody knows he’s had a nose job, you know.” 

“Who’s Baron Riddle?” you ask. 

A hush falls around the table. You look down at your plate, eyes on the red shine of pesto and olive oil where it’s grown cold on your plate. A hunk of soft bread is discarded beside it. You poke at it with your nail until crumbs flake away, lips parted, not sure what to say. “Is he–?”

“He’s a bad man, Y/N,” Sirius says. His voice has turned soft but not thin. “He’s prejudiced and cruel. If nobody of Renaldi blood takes the throne when your grandmother steps down, he’ll rule Genovia. And he’ll run it into the ground.” 

James isn’t looking at you when you drag your head up. He downs the last of his cider and stands up, murmuring about clearing the table as he carries his and Sirius’ plate to the kitchen. 

“I didn’t know,” you say. Well, you’d known someone would ascend to the throne if you didn’t. But you didn’t know about Riddle. A guilty heat builds in your throat. “I had no idea.” 

“James asked us not to tell you,” Remus says pointedly. 

“She has a right to know,” Sirius says. They glare at each other, but the heat in Sirius’ voice doesn’t rescind. “What? She does. She’s a grown up.” 

You shake your head. “Thank you, um, for telling me. I’ll just take these out, should I?” You gesture to the plates and stand up quickly. You can’t escape the feeling that Sirius is very angry with you, and you don’t want to face it, so you escape the room instead. 

James’ shoulders are tense in the kitchen. He scrapes his plate clean into the food recycling bin, offering his hand without looking for your own. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. 

“Of course.” 

Silence blossoms like an achy bruise. 

“James–”

“Thank you for having me for dinner, but I really should be going now. I promised my mum an overdue call.” 

He’s angry. 

You cringe away from him. “Okay. Yeah, no problem.” 

“Okay. Stay safe while I’m gone, yes? Remember your panic button.” 

Your hand inches up to the opposite wrist, where your tennis bracelet of sapphires sits tightly. You’d forgotten all about the panic button embedded in disguise under one of the gemstones. 

He smiles at you briefly, and in a minute or two he’s gone. Sirius goes out after him, leaving you and Remus and Marlene to the heap of dishes, a bad taste lingering on your tongue that has nothing to do with dinner. 

[the-darklings]

Oh god please write the timebomb fic!!! (or several lol)

ೀ pairing: ekko/jinx

ೀ wc: 5k

ೀ summary: "Always a dance with you, huh?" Or: two years after the battle versus Noxus, Ekko receives an unexpected visitor.

ೀ author notes: ask and you shall receive!!! I wrote this in one sitting in some weird ass haze and barely edited it, but this is the most fun I had in a long while so I hope you enjoy!!!

ೀ read it on ao3 | listen to the playlist

The first few days after the battle, Ekko doesn’t rest. He barely sleeps or eats, or allows himself time to think. 

He can’t. 

There’s too much to do. The dead are in their dozens. His Firelights took a major hit, and he knows that for the next few months his fingers will be numb from painting their pictures on the mural day in and out. So many who could have lived but didn’t. So many could have had better futures. But if he just runs, if he keeps pushing on, he can outrun these regrets and his grief, too. This way, he doesn’t remember Vi’s heartbroken expression when she pulled him into a bone-crushing hug after the fight, blood and sweat still clinging to her, her words choked when she told him—

Four seconds. 

He could have saved her. He would have hauled her snarky ass out of that tunnel, ripped that bomb from her hands. He would have—

He runs from those thoughts, too. They suffocate him, and Ekko has too much to fix to be suffocated by his grief right now. 

He sure as hell didn’t fight for Piltover. He fought for Zaun, for Firelights. Because he knew Ambessa Medarda would never settle for anything other than complete subjugation. She would have destroyed Ekko’s home. She was already busy murdering and imprisoning their people, and nothing but complete eradication would have followed in her wake. 

Ekko did it for… her. The blue-haired symbol of defiance, of uprising. A loud declaration that they won’t live under Piltover’s oppression forever, that they’ll reach greater things one day and won’t be silenced. They won’t wait for permission to breathe again. It’s what she would have wanted, he convinces himself, even though part of him knows Jinx would have enjoyed the chaos of the fight more. Or maybe not. Not since that little girl. Not since he had to save her from herself over and over again, only to lose her anyway. 

Undercity mourns her. Her visage is everywhere. Jinx the Saviour. She would have hated it, he thinks wryly. She never got to see just how loved she was. 

Maybe he should have grabbed her and ran away. Maybe he should have let the world go to hell and saved her instead. The thought, born of fatigue, lingers only for a few fleeting seconds, a rare moment of selfishness amidst a day spent fixing the world around him. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe. If only he had tried harder when they were kids and saved her from Silco. If only he didn’t give up on her. 

She’s always been his biggest maybe. And now they’ll never be more. Not this version of them. Never him and her as they were. 

Aw, are you gonna mope now, boy saviour?

“You’re not here.”

It punches clean through his chest. The realisation of it. The sheer, horrible weight. He’ll never see her again. 

Constants and variables, Benzo told him once. Constants and variables, young Ekko.

A week after the battle versus Noxus, Ekko sinks to his knees inside his room, exhausted and heartbroken, and sobs. 

.

Things begin to settle. Slowly, at first, the city might have been gutted after the battle but not destroyed, the morale low but hopeful. Hexgates are gone, and Ekko is glad when he finds out. He doesn’t want to see or hear anything about the arcane for a while. No magic in the world could fix the pain festering in his chest. 

Sevika, Silco’s old second-in-command and once his sworn enemy, comes to him two weeks after the attack. 

“They’re making me a council member,” she says, grunting when she falls into the tiny wooden chair inside his room. 

She’s always been a threatening figure, power rippling from every shift of her body, but Ekko isn’t sure he wants to fight anyone right now. Nor does she seem interested in strangling him. She lights a cigarette, her scarred features set in a fearsome scowl. 

“And?” he asks for anything better to say. “How is that any of my business?”

Sevika exhales through her nose, reminding him of an angry bull, all smoke and steely resolve. “I’m the only one presenting Zaun or her interests.” 

Ekko almost rolls his eyes. Of course she is. The Council is simply falling over themselves to fix the situation. After months of harassment and oppression, false arrestments and beatings, they asked them to bleed for Piltover and its interests with nothing but the bare minimum courtesy extended towards them afterwards.

“I could use you, kid,” Sevika continues, and Ekko forces his anger away, loosening his fists. “Exactly for that reaction. You’re smart as hell, and been a pain in my ass for years. Pilties will try to walk all over us again in a few months’ time. You and I both know it. We gotta beat them in their own game. Not let them silence us again. I could use someone like you. Be my adviser. You’ll have a direct line to the Council. We’ll make an actual change. It’s better than whatever this is.”

Ekko’s expression sours at her words while Sevika’s gaze flicks around his room in contemplation. He works all day to a point of exhaustion, then passes out. It’s the only way he’s been able to continue, day in and day out. Being in a leadership position means you can’t take time off to grieve. Too many people are relying on him. It’s bad enough that he accidentally abandoned his people for months without meaning to. The guilt he still feels over everything has been nearly suffocating. 

It’s a good gig, hero! You should do it and be a thorn in her side.

Ekko blinks the flash of blue from his vision, rubbing his brow just as Sevika adds: “It’s what she would have wanted, you know.”

A jolt of electricity runs through him. Everyone, even Vi, has been avoiding mentioning Jinx in front of him.  

His jaw clenches. “You don’t know that.”

“Kid, I know what not letting go looks like,” she says, and it almost sounds compassionate, or as close to it as someone like her can get. “We had our differences in the past, I know as much—”

“You killed my people,” Ekko snaps. “Do you know how many lives you destroyed with Shimmer?”

“Sure do,” she replies listlessly, smoke billowing past her lips. “I won’t try to justify my actions to you. But y’know, when you were gone, Jinx united Zaun in a way I haven’t seen since Vander. Beats me how she did it, but people believed in her. Even your Firelights.”

It mirrors everything he’s seen and heard for weeks. Jinx freeing their people, Jinx the Saviour, the beacon for their new future. The one who set and lived by extreme examples, who made Piltover back off and take the Undercity seriously. Because they all finally realised that there can never be peace without a fight. She should be here to fight this battle with him. Ekko should be busy arguing with her that blowing up another building will not make things right. He shouldn’t be walking around with her ghost a step behind him, tormenting him with ideas of what could and should have been. 

“And now she’s dead!”

His ears ring, his chest heaves, and he clutches his thudding heart, willing it back in its cage. He didn’t mean to come undone so easily. 

“Yeah. Yeah, she is,” Sevika says, and there’s a grimness to her when she says it, an unexpected pain buried somewhere deep in her gruff voice that makes Ekko see her differently. “I get it.”

“No,” he whispers, pained. “You don’t.”

.

Seven months pass before Ekko finally picks up a brush for her. 

He sleeps better at night but not without nightmares. Not without remembering Powder from the alternative universe and how they danced. How sweet her kiss felt. Not without that memory smearing to finding Jinx with a grenade in her hand, again, ready to disappear, go somewhere he could never reach her. 

Ekko still hears the detonation in his ears, over and over, on a sickening loop. His mind likes to torture him with ideas he failed to save her. That no matter what he does, or how he mends time, she’s forever out of reach. His blue beacon, his lighthouse he can never find in the depthless ocean of reality. 

Many have drawn her, but he still thinks that no one knows the exact hue of her hair or the wicked shine in her eyes better than him. He’s spent an entire lifetime examining them, looking for them in a sea of thousands. 

Their city is rebuilding. He agreed to Sevika’s request after a few days of contemplation. Caitlyn Kiramman’s expression when he ambled into the Council room was worth the additional burden now on his shoulder. But she’s changed too, matured, and now fills her position as the Council’s leader well. 

Ekko won’t forget how she allowed his friends to be imprisoned, tortured, and, in some cases, killed, but her regret made her side with him and Sevika more often than not during voting, and maybe he could at least one day forgive her. Another maybe. For Vi, if nothing else, who clearly loves the blue-haired woman fiercely. 

The barren wall stares at him. He’s painted Powder before, but this is different. One day, his friend, his dearest friend, was simply gone. Without a goodbye, in a wake of tragedy. The life Ekko once had disintegrated beneath his feet overnight. Benzo killed. Vander dead. Mylo and Claggor too. Vi died as well. Or so he believed for years. Powder was missing until a different knife was delivered to him weeks later, when the word on the street spread about Silco being seen with a little girl with blue hair. 

Ekko sighs, hanging his head. The city is healing, but he isn’t, or at least not as quickly. 

He runs his hand over the white wall, picturing Jinx as he saw her last, those precious hours between talking her down from the abyss and their joint attack on Noxian forces. It felt so good to rely on her again, to stand with her, side by side. As natural as breathing. 

You’re the order to my chaos, hero. 

“Leave me alone,” he says quietly, head hung low. “It’s been months.”

A figment of Jinx chortles, arms crossed over her chest as she leans back against the wall. You would get bored to death without me. Ha! Get it? 

Shooting a glare at her, Ekko picks up a brush, his fingers quivering. Tears burn in his eyes when he dips the brush into the paints he painstakingly mixed. He works, and works, until his eyes are dry and his wrist hurts. Ekko doesn’t stop until he loses light and when he steps back, he is looking at Jinx. Equal parts chaos and something ethereal. 

He wipes angrily across his mouth when he tastes saltiness pooling there and goes home. 

There’s no sleep that night. 

.

Time is a strange thing. It weaves and flows. Without his Z-Drive, he has no control over it. Time simply goes on, and he’s the passenger in a vehicle he doesn’t want to move. 

He’s important these days. He’s one of the few bright minds still left, and he’s endlessly busy with something. City of Progress needs every mind that can be spared. Wounds heal, and time dulls the memory, but not everything is so easily forgotten. Piltover moves quicker, but the Undercity erects a statue for Jinx beside Vander’s. He sees Vi at the ceremony, and they exchange strained smiles. They speak sometimes, but it’s not as often as it used to be. They’re both dealing with their grief the best they can.

At least Vi has Cait. Ekko has nothing but a cold bed and purpose. 

He and Sevika make a good team. It almost makes him wonder what could have been in a universe where they were on the same side from the start. His Zaun, cracked but not broken, is resembling the bright version of the Zaun and Piltover he saw in the alternative verse. There're years of work still left, but there’s something like hope in him, fragile and misplaced as it might be. 

A year passes. Then two. He visits the graves; he lights candles for those lost. Some days Ekko sees her, other days he doesn’t. He hopes for a glimpse, even when he knows he shouldn’t. It should be easier to let go of what you never had, right? 

His mural for Jinx grows. Other faces join her, people who died believing in her, surrounding the one they placed their trust in. And, at the centre of it all, her, her, her. 

Still her. 

Always her. 

. 

He’s not sure what arouses him. He hasn’t slept well in years, perpetual exhaustion clinging to him like a shawl. Some would call it the weight of living, no doubt. 

There’s a shift in the air, a disturbance that’s not enough to make Ekko jolt awake and reach for a weapon, but enough to make his eyes flutter open. He breathes the cool air, pushing his grogginess away. 

There’s a shape at the foot of his bed. Small and round. It takes several seconds for his vision to adjust, for him to realise that a hooded figure sits perched on his bed, knees pulled to their chest.

Ekko hasn’t had to rely on his battle instincts in two years, but there’s enough left in him to attack without hesitation. His fingers tangle in the cloak, shoving the figure down, his knee pressing harshly into their abdominal, hands seeking the intruder’s throat—

“Wow, little man, you sure know how to roll out the welcoming mat,” the all too familiar voice drawls before his fingers tighten instinctively around the slender, warm throat. 

A haggard breath forces from Ekko’s parted mouth. In the wild struggle, the stranger’s hood has slipped down, revealing a familiar face with a startling crop of blue hair. His heart squeezes painfully, forcing him away from Jinx’s apparition. 

“Leave me alone,” he croaks, rubbing his eyes till his vision swims. “Just leave me alone! I don’t want to see you anymore!”

“Huh, fine. I thought after two years, the welcome would be a tad warmer. Brrr.”

Ekko pushes himself to his feet, stumbling away, watching warily as the young woman sits back up, picking at her messy hair. She looks different. A little older than Jinx from his visions or memories. Her hair is longer, though nowhere near the same length she once had braided into two twin braids. She swings her leg back and forth, another pulled up to her chest while she watches him. And… her eyes. Ekko was the last person to see her with blue eyes before their battle on the bridge. The last time he saw Jinx alive, they were a dangerous, burning violet. 

Now, even with the shade of the night, they’re a muddy mix between the blue he once knew, and the piercing violet that made her so deadly. As if that restless edge in her has calmed down and settled. 

Ekko’s chest heaves as he stumbles back a step. 

“Soooo—” she begins.

“You’re alive.”

Jinx shrugs her shoulders. “Yup. Clearly. In the flesh even,” she crows, but it’s more muted when compared to the wildness he once faced off against. 

His hand flies to his stomach, and Ekko distantly wonders if he’s about to throw up in front of a girl he’s spent his entire life loving. 

Mercifully, his stomach settles, but his heart beats so loudly he can hear the blood rushing in his skull. 

“You’re alive,” he repeats, harder this time. “It’s been two years.”

“Yeah.”

She doesn’t offer more than that, but there’s a shadow over her narrow face. She’s healthier. There’s more weight on her bones, her skin has lost some of the pallidness. As if someone took Powder and Jinx, split them clean down the middle, and fused them into one body. Stronger, more self-reassured, less teetering on the brink. 

“Would have written but mail is crappy where I was,” she jokes, her voice a familiar, drawling litany. “Besides, this is so much more mysterious—”

He closes the distance between them in two steps. His room isn’t big but he would have walked, ran, sprinted if needed to close the distance between them. His arms wrap around her and Ekko squeezes her so tightly he hears a small breath escape Jinx. She’s solid and warm. Smells faintly of sea and something metallic. Ekko buries his face in the soft crook of Jinx’s neck, gasping for breath. 

“Woah, hero, you’re gonna break my ribs,” she whispers, but her arms wind around him, more careful, unsure. “I thought you hated me?”

Even when he releases her, Ekko’s hands linger on her, go to her face, examining her through the crack of light illuminating his room. 

“I saw you,” he breathes, devastated. “I saw you everywhere. I hoped to see you everywhere.”

Something flickers over her face, an unknown thing, secretive and distant as she’s always felt to him. 

“Geez, seeing things? And they call me crazy.”

“You’re not crazy.”

There’s such vehemence in his voice it startles them both. Jinx nibbles on her inner cheek, searching his face cautiously. “I thought you’d be mad.”

Ekko laughs, a low huff of amusement. “Do you think I care for you so little, huh?”

Too late he realises he’s without a shirt, and is, in fact, mostly bare before the girl he’s harboured a crush on for years. Near boyish shyness forces Ekko back, making him clear his throat. His hands tremble when he reaches for a discarded t-shirt, hoping it doesn’t smell bad when he pulls it over his head. When he glances at her over his shoulder, Jinx is still there, still watching him, though there’s a thoughtful air around her. 

When she notices him looking, she offers him a sarcastic grin.

“No need to get shy, stud.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles.

He plops down on his unmade bed, watching her watch him. Her face is half hidden by her arms propped on her bent knee, but the silence between them isn’t awkward. They’re taking each other in, taking in the changes that have touched them both in the last two years.

“Why come back now?” he asks, eventually. 

Jinx blinks, near feline-like, dropping her head back to stare at his ceiling as if it may offer an answer. “I’m a crappy friend, but not that crappy. Happy birthday, wonder boy.”

There’s a creak in his heart, a lightness in his ribcage, a balloon of affection despite their troubled history that inflates just for her. “You remember my birthday?”

She makes a sound at the back of her throat. Glances at him from the corner of her eye. “Well, we picked it together, silly, so sure I do.” Shadows fall over her features when she angles her head away. “I… I never thought I would come back—that it was better this way.”

“I’m glad you did.”

Something close to a smile ghosts over her face at his response. Ekko can’t rip his gaze away from her. He fears that if he does, he’ll wake up and she’ll be gone again, and he’ll have to relive the agony of losing her again. 

“Does Vi—”

“No. No. And it’s better this way.”

“But—”

“Drop it, Ekko. Please.”

He does. Because this is too good to be true, and he doesn’t want this to end. Emotions mix inside him, battling for dominance, so he sits there, letting them all wash over him. 

“You’ve been busy,” she says abruptly, nodding her head in the general direction of the outside world. “Their new wonder boy. I’m not surprised. You’ve always been good at creating things. Good things.”

“And you’ve always been good at fixing them,” he says. 

Ekko thinks back on the countless times she helped him to fix up old rubbish others have discarded and sell them in Benzo’s shop as small treasures. It feels, now, like a lifetime ago. In a sense, it has been. 

She snorts; it’s an ugly, hateful sound. “Not always.”

There’s weight to how she says it. Pain lingers in each syllable, more so a whispered confession. She’s thinking of others, those lost through accidents or her own direct involvement. 

“I’m sorry about Isha,” Ekko says carefully, thumb pressing into the hollow of his bare knee. He itches to take her hand, to smooth his thumb over her knuckles instead, but he doesn’t. She’s never been his to touch. “Vi told me about her.”

Jinx shrinks, turning away and he mentally curses. A sore spot even years later. Understandably so. 

“I… shit. Sorry.”

“What’s with the long face?” she exclaims suddenly, jumping to her feet and twirling. Her hands drop to her hips and she grins at him, all mischief. “C’mon, we gotta get out of here.”

Ekko squints. “Uh, what?”

“It’s your birthday, silly,” she says, like it should be obvious. “We’re going to spend the day together.”

.

Jinx keeps her hood up, her gait steady. Any sign of blue tucked away. She’s changed her attire to draw less attention, and as they walk in the hazy dawn light towards the bridge separating the sister cities, it feels almost normal. Casual. Not at all like the last time they spoke, they were about to fight side by side in a battle for their lives. Not at all like he spent two years thinking she’s dead. That still stings, but knowing how she felt back then, the state she was in before he talked her down from the edge, the pain she’s been through, Ekko can’t bring himself to feel resentful. He only wants to hold her and tell her it’ll be okay because she’s not alone. 

“You’re not saying, are you?” he asks, hands in his pockets. 

“Nope,” she replies, popping the p. “Can’t.”

Words rush to his tongue. Insistence that she can and should stay—that there’s space here for her, not just in his life, but in the new Zaun he’s helping to shape. He almost admits it to her then. That he’s built this for her and the ones they lost along the way. 

Ekko continues walking, staring at the ground, noticing too late she’s fallen behind. He peers over his shoulder and freezes when he notices what’s caught her attention. The mural. Welcoming anyone coming into Zaun. Her face, slightly younger but now immortalised, peers back at them. 

“You drew this.”

He loosens a breath. “Yeah, I did. I, uh, just…”

Jinx reaches for her own face, fingertips ghosting over the painted wall. There’s tension on her face when she turns to look at him, something piercing and hard and thoughtful. Same pinch to her eyebrows he saw earlier in his bedroom. 

“I won’t let them take you,” he says softly. “If they came for you. I would fight for you.”

She doesn’t break their eye contact. “I know. You shouldn’t, but I know you would.”

“Then stay.”

She saunters forward, stopping only when they’re almost chest to chest. “I’m not her, y’know? The other me. The one you love.”

He smiles, huffing a small breath, refocusing on her and her small pout. Ekko reaches forward, tucking a few stray strands back under Jinx’s hood, lingering for a beat. “I wasn’t her Ekko, either. That’s why I came back. I like this version of you just fine. But just so we’re clear, every version of you is a pain in my ass.” He tugs on a small braid, grinning when she shoots him an annoyed glare and slaps his hand away. “But I won’t have it any other way. Wait, no. It sure as hell would be simpler if you didn’t try to kill me anymore, but I guess I’ll deal with that, too.”

Jinx snorts, absently reaching for the spot he touched, her gaze softer than before. “Ha! You hit like a girl, by the way. I never got to tell you.”

“You tried to blow us up.”

“Eh,” she whines. “That was one time. You gotta let that go.”

Ekko exhales a small laugh and realises he hasn’t smiled or laughed this much in years. Joy was leeched from him with her absence, and while he did his duties, there was no security of Jinx’s usual push and pull to keep him balanced and focused. Even when they were enemies, hunted each other down and attacked each other, they existed on opposite sides of a perfectly balanced sphere. 

Her nearness, the relief of having her there, overshadows the darker recollection of that afternoon when she tried to blow them up more than once. Memories so painful Ekko wishes to scrub them from his mind forever, yet they remain seared into his psyche. 

She grabs his elbow, dragging him forward, breaking the surrounding gloom. “Come on then,. Things to do, things to see.”

And Ekko does what he’s done since they were young. He follows her. Because they might not have tomorrow.

.

The day goes by too fast. Almost a blur. A series of snapshots Ekko will lock away in his mind forever. He never expected he’d get to do this again. This is something his younger self could have only dreamt about once. When they dreamt of simpler things; flashy toys and delicious sweets, things only a young boy could fantasise about, aside from a loving home, because at least that much he had. 

They walked and talked and joked around, eating street vendor food all day. Ekko knows they’re pushing their luck, but he can’t help himself. Jinx grew up here. This is her home too, and he wants to show her the progress they’ve made. There’s something comfortable about her snarky commentary and ill-timed jibes at the Council members. She asks about Vi only once, in relation to Cait, and Ekko tells her the truth. 

They’re happy. They’re together. She nods, satisfied, and moves on.

“We should go see Jericho next.” It’s an offhand suggestion while they walk the newly paved river path. Now people from the Undercity can enjoy the same luxury of having a peaceful sidewalk to take their kids down. It’s amazing how it’s the small things that bring people happiness. 

“Can’t,” Jinx replies, glancing towards the setting sun. Her smile twists; it’s still a smile, but it’s sad, in a way. “Sorry, hero.”

He takes several seconds to speak. “So, you’re leaving anyway.”

“Yes. I told you I can’t stay.”

“It’s a pity, then.”

She tilts her head. “Why?”

Damn her for even asking. Damn her and all the shitty circumstances for keeping them apart. Damn her for picking him during that game of hide and seek years ago. Damn her for being there for him and not being there at the same time. Damn her for being his entire world for years. Even when Ekko thought he hated her, he wasn’t free of her. He never could be. His girl with blue hair. 

He’s in love with her, in every possible way, but they both know they can’t work like this. There’s too many ghosts for Jinx here, and despite the changes, Ekko can’t promise her she won’t get dragged off to Stillwater the moment authorities find out she’s alive after all. 

Ekko frowns, clenches his fists, and walks away. 

But she’s like an anchor to him. He stops several paces away, tied to her. “You’re gonna break my heart.”

They’ve been everything from friends to enemies and strangers to reluctant allies again. So much of his life has revolved around her. Continues to revolve around her. Past and present. But if Jinx sends him away now, if she walks away, Ekko will let her go. Because he can finally rest easy, knowing she is alive and well, even if they’re apart.

“In any other universe, I might have loved you,” she breathes. 

He pivots towards her, his nostrils flaring. “Love me in this one,” he insists, reaching for her. Ekko cups her cheeks, tilting her head until her hood slips back down, exposing her blue hair to the setting sun. He’s glad there’s no one in sight because he can’t think straight right now. “Choose me now. Ask me to go away with you. Ask me.”

He presses his forehead to hers. Jinx’s empty gaze appears glazed over, her thoughts far away no matter how hard he tries to grip her and hold her close. 

“I don’t deserve you, boy saviour,” she whispers emptily. “You’re good.”

“No one decides for me, Jinx. Not even you.”

She blinks owlishly, searching his wild stare, a pained expression on her face, her fingers knotting against her chest. “What if you don’t want me after a while? I’m… different and if I get bad again... What if—”

“Ask me, damnit.”

Jinx loosens a shaky breath, jumping through a hundred micro-expressions in a few seconds. A painful mix between hope and dread. 

“C…” Her eyes squeeze shut. “Come with me.”

Ekko sags in relief. “Yes.” He holds her, wraps his arms around her despite the unsure way she folds against him. As if she’s unsure where to put her hands. If she should. “Yes, I’ll come with you. I don’t care if you’re different. I want you as you are, okay? No matter where we are.”

A tremulous breath wheezes past Jinx’s lips. But with that, she melts into him, burying her face against him. Her embrace grows desperate and tight, a tremble shuddering through her body. 

“Always a dance with you, huh?” he says after a moment.

She chuckles, the sound warming his collarbone. “And you still got two left feet, boy wonder.”

Constants and variables, young Ekko, Benzo told him once. Everything bad that can happen in this universe might come to pass, but so might everything good.

----

an: ahh I know this isn't really my usual offering but I really hope you guys enjoyed, it's been a while since i've cared enough about canon/canon ship to do this.

[kirislovelygf]

make us proud (sevika x reader)

warning!! season ii act iii spoilers ahead!! read at ur own risk :)

contents: you and sevika are dating. takes place post piltover-noxian war (act 3) jinx is gone :( but isha is alive!! you, sevika, and isha are a little family. nicknames, fluff, arguments, sevika's stubborn but she loves you a lot so

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

the war between piltover and the noxians was brutal. zaunites bled in a fight that wasn’t theirs. but piltover and zaun become united as they once were and defeat the enemies now there’s a bright future for zaunites. 

when caitlyn invited sevika to the kiramann house, she was scared. her first thought was she was about to be arrested.

she held the letter in her hand and i asked to read it. it sounded much better on paper than how she reacted. 

“maybe she wants to settle some treaty.” i said to her. she walked behind the bar and pulled out a bottle of whiskey only god knows how old. 

“don’t make me laugh.” she grumbled. she pulled out a glass and then struggled to pull the cork off the bottle. 

i sighed and took the bottle from her, pulling the cork off with ease. “let’s just go and hear her out. she thanked you after the battle, remember?” i said, pouring the heavy whiskey into the glass. 

“i could've done that..” she muttered. “please, let’s go. i’ll come with-” 

“no.” she said. 

i scoffed. “just like that?” 

“what if she gets you arrested too? i’m not gonna break you out, i’m telling you now.” she said, raising the glass to her lips. 

i sighed out. “what if she wants to help us? she wouldn't be asking us to go to her house if she wanted to arrest us, she would have sent enforcers down here by now.” i said. 

she scrunched her face slightly from the drink before putting it down. she stared at the ground, ideas and thoughts and possibilities conflicting. 

“it says she wants to talk to you about something new and.. innovative. says you have the sense of leadersh- did you even read this whole thing?” i snapped before looking at the paper again. 

she rolled her eyes. “i might have skimmed it..” she mumbled. i looked at her again.

“vika, this could be life-changing. we have to go.” i said. she let out a heavy sigh. 

“this is the opportunity you’ve been fighting your whole life for.” i said to her. she looks up at me slightly. 

she sighs out heavily before downing the rest of the whiskey and nodding. “okay, i'll go.” 

i smield. “yes!” i clapped my hands together, to which she rolled her eyes to. 

“i don’t know how you survived that battle.” 

“and killed more noxians than you. alright, let’s go!” i jumped off the bar stool and ran out the bar. 

we went to the kiramann house together and caitlyn and vi greeted us at the front steps. 

i wnet and hugged vi quickly before going back to stand by sevika again. sevika glared them both down while caitlyn rubbed her hands together nervously. 

“thank you so much for coming.” she smiled. i smiled back and looked up at sevika. she just simply nodded. 

“come inside, please.” caitlyn sputtered. vi took her hand and they walk in together. i look at sevika and n judge her to follow. she looked up at the castle-like mansion with awe. 

i don't remember that last time she willingly came up here. 

we followed caitlyn to some lounge area with a fireplace. there was a desk in front of a giant bookshelf. in fact, most of the walls were just tall bookshelves. sunlight poured in from the fancy gold-lined windows. 

“the reason i sent you the letter was first, to thank you for your help. piltover would have fallen if you hadn’t led the zaunites into battle to help us.” she started. 

sevika nods. “it’s our city too” she muttered. “and of course, we have jinx and ekko to thank…” i added. 

vi’s face softens when i mention jinx. but caitlyn quickly diverts the conversation. “yes, of course, well.. the other reason i invited you is because i have a proposition for you.” she said.

she looks at vi. “vi helped me realize i need to use my position to give zaunites a voice. to give you a voice, sevika and y/n.” she said, lookign at us.

sevika and i glance at each other. 

“there’s space on the council for one more councilperson. vi suggested you take the spot, sevika." she said.

“what.” sevika and i gasped. "are you serious?" i asked, lookign at vi. she gives a slight nod.

“you are a symbol of hope and loyalty. you know exactly what zaunites need and how to get rid of shimmer so your people can thrive again.” she said. 

“the council needs someone who has seen the pain firsthand.” she continued. “but it’s.. it’s up to you if you would like to take up the responsibility.. and of course, every councilperson needs an assistant...” she gestures to me. 

“so i don't get a seat on the council?” 

her eyes go wide and she glances at vi. “oh.. um-" vi chuckled softly.

“nah, i’m just fuckin wit ya.” i smiled. she laughed nervously while vi rolled her eyes. 

“well? sevika?” i smiled, looking up at her. she was still in shock from the offer.  

“i think.. i um..” she stuttered. caitlyn nodded. “why don't you take a moment to disuss this? and let me know what you decide." she starts to step out of the room.

"the choice is yours, but i truly do hope you join the council, sevika. you’d help a lot of lives.” she said softly. 

she nods at her and caitlyn left the room, vi walking slowly behind her. i look up at sevika and stand in front of her. i waited for the door to close to talkto sevika.

“vika, you have to say yes!” i whisper-yelled. 

“i can-t.. i don’t- ugh, it's just-” i noticed vi didn’t leave the room and she went and stood by me. 

“did she ask you?” she looks at vi. “i’m not old enough. you gotta be like a hundred.” she joked. 

sevika rolled her eyes and started walking out the door to leave. “vika, she was just kidding!” i said. 

“i'm serious. you think i’m about to become a pawn in piltover’s game? what would our people think if they saw me sitting at that table?” 

i laughed in disbelief. “vika, this is.. so amazingly huge. how can you not see this as a good thing? let me remind you that there has never ever once been a zaunite councilperson. you have the rare chance to make real change.” i continued. 

she keeps her back to me, staring a the door. i look at vi. “say something.”

she sputtered. “uh-sevika, you..” she takes a second to think. “i seriously can’t think of anyone better fit for the job than you. that’s why i suggested to caitlyn it be you.” she said. i nodded and looked to sevika. 

she looks back angrily. “you told her to do this. i bet even a topsider like her would rather die than have someone like me sitting next to her.”

vi sighs. “vika, come on.” i begged. 

“i’ll see you at home.” she muttered. she slams the door behind her and the stomping of her boots fades to silence. vi and i look at each other. 

“i’m sorry.. i thought she’d jump at a chance like this.” i told her. 

“me too.” vi nodded. caitlyn comes back into the room and her face scrunches when she sees that sevika left. 

vi and i look at her carrying a tray of a teapot and four cute teacups “oh!” aw, she’s so cute. 

“uh.. what did she say?” she asked, putting the tray down on the coffee table in front of the fireplace. we walked over to her. 

“she needs a little time to think it over, caitlyn.” i said to her. “oh.. of course. please let her know to take her time.” she nodded 

"i will.." i smiled and couldn't help myself. i jumped into a hug, wrapping my arm tightly around ber. “but thank you, thank you so much!” i said. “you have no idea how much this means for us.” 

she laughs awkwardly but returns the hug. i pull away from her and she holds my hands. “piltover has done enough damage in the lanes. it’s time we pick up the mess one step at a time. and that step is you and sevika.” she said. 

i smiled at her and thanked her again before going to take my leave. i assumed vi was gonna come with but when i looked to see if she was following, her and caitlyn had their foreheads pressed together and then they kissed. 

“aw..” i mumbled before quickly taking my exit. i strode through the messed up streets of piltover and then zaun where the sunlight gradually grew less and less. 

i found sevika at this tent some enforcers set up in the square. people came to get fixed up, get some medicine, to get some rest. 

while i maneuvered my way through e crowds of people in bandages and walking on crushed, i found sevika. 

weirdly enough, physically helping people. she was crouched down in front of a gurney where a little girl was with blue hair was sat. sevika had just finished wrapped a bandage around isha's ankle.

“isha!” i called out. her gorgeous light brown eyes lit up and she jumped off the make-shift gurney to run to me. “aw, my baby!” i laughed out as she jumped into my arms. i held her head gently before pulling back to look atv her. 

i picked her up and saw sevika walking over. “i thought i told you not to run.” she said to isha. she looks down at her ankle. 

“what happened here?” i asked. 

“twisted it running away. thankfully, some of these crazies were sane enough to take her here, where she's been resting the past couple days.” she said. 

i look up at isha’s scratched face. “you’re a brave little one, damn.” i said, shaking her, making her bounce. she laughs and i put her down. she walks back to her gurney and sist where sevika nd i follow her. 

i hung around until sundown and a medic said isha was good to go home. 

sevika and i walked home to my palace while she carried a sleepy isha in her arm. 

“vika, about today..” i started. 

she sighed out. “i know you have no reason to trust caitlyn. or anyone in piltover. none of us do.” i said. 

she stares ahead. “but you can make so much more change while sitting at that table than you have in the last twenty years.” 

“you make me sound way older than i actually am, i just turned 34 like a month ago.” 

i glared at her and sped up so i could stand in front of her. “i’m serious. you’re worried about how people would look at you if you were on the council but why is that a bad thing? i bet zaunites would be ecstatic to see someone just like them get to represent them up there.” 

she blinks and looks down. then her gaze shifts to a sleeping isha. i smiled softly before inching closer to her. 

“you’ll help little girls like her. people like us. don’t you think she deserves more than this?” she looks at our surroundings. 

the dirty alleys, the lanes she grew up in, where we looked death in the eye multiple times. 

hints of shimmer laced on the walls, on the ground, in the air, in the food and water. anyone who was born in the lanes inhaled shimmer at least once, whether on purpose or not. 

sevika looks down at me and nods. “fine. i’ll do it.” 

i smiled. “really?” 

“for her.” she looks at isha as she stirs in her sleep. i cupped her face in my hands, my arms extended since she was so much taller than me. "and for you.. i guess."

she leaned her forehead against mine before i hugged her. she didn't have her mechanical arm anymore, so she just let her head rest on mine. 

the next day, the two of us were standing behind the doors that led to the council room. i’ve never seen sevika so nervous before. 

i step in front of her and move strands of her hair out of the way of her eyes. “you could’ve cleaned up a bit before your first day, vika.” i pat off the lint from her maroon cape, covering her missing arm.

"gotta look your best for these topsiders." i fix her hair a bit again.

she chuckled softly. my hands fell down and held her face. “thank you for convicing me this is a good idea.” 

she hums, leaning into the touch of my palm. i pulled her face down slightly to kiss her, even then having to get on my toes. her hand slips around my waist to pull me closer. 

i pulled away to rest my forehead against hers. i pull away from her and step beside her. 

“i’m not worthy enough to open the doors, a councilwoman has to do it..” i smirked. 

“tch.. come one.” she shakes her head and follows her. she slams open the giant doors. i winced at the sudden sunlight from the giant windows but kept walking behind her. 

i pulled her seat out for her and she nodded as a thank you before taking her seat at the end of a half-circle table. i stood beside her as she took her seat. 

i look around at the other council people, giving us dirty looks. a moment later, caitlyn comes in. 

“everyone, i’d like you to meet our newest member of the council. councilwoman sevika, representing the lanes.” she said, her heeled boots clicking on the polished granite floors. 

“i expect everyone to give her and her assistant a warm welcome.” she said. she comes up to me and pats my shoulder. 

the council people didn’t look at sevika any differently than before caitlyn walked in. 

change for the lanes, change for isha, was not about to come easily or quickly.

i wondered what jinx would think of sevika sitting here if she were alive now. and how isha was going to grow up as i watched an airship fly past the council building into the blue sky. 

a/n: OMGGGG i am so proud sevika got a seat at teh council as her ending, i was so proud of her!!!! <33

[cevansbrat0007]

I saw this and thought of Ari and his Bird right away 😂 Now how would he react? 😌

Dinner is Served...

Summary: You surprise Ari with his favorite meal: You.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Implied Smut, An Appearance from Bucky Barnes, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, Brief Discussions of Body Image, High Heels, Naked Fun in the Kitchen, Manhandling, Clothed Male Nude Female (CMNF), Pussy Eating, Very Mild Chase Kink, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: I think someone actually asked me this a while ago. Maybe. I vaguely remember my answer. However, instead of rehashing that, this is how I think that would go - with a twist! Part of my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“I sent you the files this morning, Buck.” Ari winces as he shoulders his way into your house from the garage. “It’s not my fault you don’t know how to open ‘em.”

“Just resend them in a different format.” His friend and business partner responds, sounding frustrated. 

“Why don’t you just give-in and ask Pixie to help you already?”

“Because she’s been giving me the silent treatment since Tuesday. Why would I want to risk breaking the streak?” 

Rolling his eyes, he drops his bag by the door – only to be surprised when he spots a pair of your panties laying innocently on the floor. Upon closer inspection, he realizes that it’s actually one of his favorites. It was part of a set he’d bought you just last month. 

“What’d you do, Barnes?”

“Uh…” A heavy sigh can be heard coming from the other side of the phone. “I accidentally broke her fancy little coffee maker.”

“Wow.” He responds, disapproval evident in his tone.  

“Hey! I just said it was an accident. She said she had a bad night and so I tried to make her one of those latte…macchiato…things she likes. And then I broke it.”   

“Make it right, Buck.” After toeing off his boots Ari begins making his way towards the kitchen, following the sound of music in the air. He frowns when he spies your blouse in the middle of the hallway. Closely followed by a pair of black leggings. 

“How?” God, his buddy could be so goddamned obtuse sometimes.

“Fucking apologize. And then buy her another one – a better one.” 

“Ugh!” The former soldier whines. “I wouldn’t even know where to start looking for a replacement. How about I–?”

Wait. WAIT. Was that your bra? Just what the fuck was up with this strange trail of clothes?

“Buck, you’re a grown man. And google is your friend.” Ari snaps as he picks up your fallen undergarment, his confusion growing with each passing second. “Restore peace to the land before that woman feels compelled to drop a nuke.” With that he ends the call, now ready to solve whatever mystery he’s just stumbled upon. 

But what it’s he sees when he rounds the corner that has him stopping dead in his tracks.

“Well, shit.” His mouth goes dry as he watches your hips sway to the music pumping out of the speaker. 

A low whistle of appreciation has you glancing over your shoulder. 

If you were being honest, you’d known he was home the moment you’d heard your garage door open. Which was also why your bathrobe was now hastily balled up in your pantry. 

“Welcome home!” You chirp, not missing the way your man’s eyes darken as they drink you in. “Did you have a good day?”

“What’s all this?” Ari’s already deep voice dips an octave as he holds up your previously abandoned bra, dangling it from his finger. But you know he’s not mad. This question is coming from a man who clearly likes what he sees.

Which just so happens to be you. Happily cooking in your kitchen. Wearing nothing but a little makeup and a pair of red heels. Oh, and oven mitts. Can’t forget those.

You’d come across this scenario while aimlessly scrolling on Instagram. And since you were growing more comfortable with the body you saw in the mirror these days, you figured that it might be worth trying your luck. If only to see your man’s reaction.

“Oops!” You gasp, trying your best to look apologetic. “I just haven’t had a chance to clean up yet. I’m sorry.”

“Baby…” Ari drags a stunned hand over his jaw. “That’s not even – ah fuck. Cleanin’ up is the absolute last thing on my mind right now.” Dropping the undergarment on a nearby table, he begins making his way to you – only to come up short once again when he catches sight of your heels. 

“What? I’m just tryin’ to break ‘em in. That’s all.”

“Fuck meee.” He groans under his breath, his eyes going wide at the sight of your latest surprise. 

“Hold that thought, sugar.” With a wink, you turn back towards the stove before bending over to retrieve tonight’s dessert from the oven. You’re forced to bite the inside of your cheek when you hear your bounty hunter’s sudden intake of breath at the sight of your bare ass. 

“There we go.” You hum, playfully fanning yourself with a checkered mitt. “Hope you like homemade cinnamon rolls with whipped cream cheese frosting." Tendrils of feminine pride unfurls in your belly when you notice Ari’s impressive hard-on tenting his jeans. "They’re the perfect after-dinner treat.”

“That’s–I’m not…” He cuts himself off, surprising you both with his inability to speak. “We–that ain’t the kinda treat I’m hungry for, little Bird.”

“Hm.” You nod as you stretch your arms above your head. Giving into temptation, you rise up on your toes before giving a little shimmy, calling attention to your breasts. “No problem. What’s the point of talkin’ about dessert when we haven’t even discussed the main course?”

“Huh?” Ari clears his throat, his rapt gaze now focused on your pouting nipples. 

“Tonight we’re having roasted potatoes –” 

“I don’t give a good-damn about no roasted potatoes, woman!” The bounty hunter rumbles, cutting you off before you can finish telling him your menu. “You don’t need to cook nothin’ else. I already know what I’m hungry for.” He takes a decisive step in your direction. “It’s just a matter of where I’m eatin’.”

“But you don’t even know what we’re havin’ yet!” Comes your incredulous laugh as you bat away his eager hands. 

“This right here.” He growls, broadly gesturing at your naked body. “All of this. That’s what I want.” Without warning, he grabs the edge of his t-shirt with both hands before yanking it over his head, revealing his muscled chest. “I'm fuckin' starvin'.”

“But I’m not on the menu!” You shriek, throwing a dish towel at him the next time he gets too close. The next thing you know, this man is now chasing you around your own kitchen, his long legs quickly eating up the space between you. 

Fuck it was hard to run in heels! 

“Now I don’t mind where I dine, darlin’.” Your man purrs, his already sexy voice pitched to arouse. “We can take it to the bedroom. The living room…”

“Beast!” You burst into a fit of giggles as you attempt to fend him off with the help of a chair. “Need I remind you that we are in the kitchen?”

Now that makes him pause. But only for a second. 

“It ain’t the first time I’ve had you in here.” The chair you’ve been holding is gently ripped from your grasp. “Pretty sure I’ve devoured that pussy in every room of this house.” You watch in defeat as he sends your last little bit of protection skidding across the floor. “Did you forget how wet you got the last time I splayed you out on this-here table? Because I haven’t.”

One rough, slightly calloused hand grips the back of your neck – drawing you closer. 

“Remember how I made you hold yourself open for me?” His lips ghost over yours – the sharp nip of his teeth causing your heart to beat erratically in your chest. “Remember the way your thighs shook every time you gushed around me?” He moans softly, the erotic sound going straight to your dripping cunt. 

“I–If you don’t want the potatoes, we’re also having…um…” You can’t help but whimper when he abandons your throat in favor of grabbing a hearty handful of your ass. “Herb roasted chicken…”

“I get so hard whenever I think about the way you drenched my fuckin’ beard, baby.” Ari gives you a playful squeeze before lifting you by your hips and depositing you on the table as if you weigh nothing. “My good girl always makes such a mess for me. Don’t you?” 

“Could I perhaps interest you in some honey glazed carrots?” However, your weak attempt at redirection is completely ignored.

A heady thrum of excitement courses through you when you feel your back connect with the cool, wooden surface. And then Ari’s hands come to rest on your knees, gently prying them apart, baring your most intimate flesh. 

“Look at you.” He rasps, tenderly stroking your slick folds. “Fuckin’ soaked already. And here we are just gettin’ started.” He parts you with thick fingers before leaning down to press a kiss to your puffy clit, making your hips buck. 

“Yeah,” he continues. “This is the only honey I give a fuck about tonight.” Gripping your ankle, he drapes your leg over one broad shoulder, opening you up to him even more. And then he reaches for the remote to your speaker, turning up the volume of the music that had since become little better than background noise. 

“Don’t want any interruptions while I enjoy my meal. Especially since you spent so much time preparin’ it.” Ari drags your body towards the edge of the table before taking a seat in a chair and placing a napkin across his lap. “And don’t worry about me needing any silverware, sweet Bird…” He murmurs as his mouth descends upon your vulnerable, quivering pussy.

“I don't mind gettin' my hands dirty.”

END

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[bloggerspam]

"I think I'm going insane."

Val jumps, almost bumping her head up against the underside of the car above her, at the sudden sound of Steph's voice echoing in the garage.

It's been about an hour since Jay finally got Danny's reply texts. He left, now assured that Danny was awake and understood it was a misunderstanding, to hopefully ask Danny out.

"Insane?" Val echoes, rolling out on the creeper until she can sit up, grabbing a rag to clear up the grease all over her arms as best she can.

Jay had told her to go home, along with the rest of the mechanics, but in his rush he had left a broken down Mazda leaking so she wasn't exactly going to just leave it like that.

Plus, she's gonna be staying far away from the apartment until she's 100% it's all clear. Maybe crash Sam and Tuck's hotel room, stay with them just in case.

"Insane," Steph confirms, looking like some kind of art piece leaning on Jay's work table across the room, "Y'know, like that Einstein quote."

"I'm not sure I follow," Val scrunches up her nose, thoroughly confused. She gets up, tossing the rag and heading towards her sudden guest.

She's technically not allowed to be doing these types of repairs, considering she lacks the certifications, but she thought she might as well finish it up for Jay to look over tomorrow before heading home, so the timing of the other girl's visit is at least perfect.

Steph watches her as she twirls a finger through her hair, pretty blue eyes half lidded and pouting with her very kissable lips. Val looks away to focus on clearing up her workspace.

"Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." Steph quotes, and oh, right. Conversation was happening.

"Actually," Val starts, slipping the top part of her coveralls off and wiping her face and thoroughly ruining the white teeshirt she's got under, "Rita Mae Brown said that quote. Well, wrote it in her book."

She realizes a little too late that that might sound too condescending, so she course corrects, "But anyway, what are you doing that's making you insane?"

She turns to look at Steph, jumping once more at how close Steph suddenly is. Val's backed up against her work table, Steph looming over her with all of her 3 inch height advantage. A metal tool falls over the side of the table, Val's not sure which one, from the resulting bump.

They stare at each other, Val profusely thanking any and all Gods, Ancients, whatever Higher Beings out there that her dark skin makes it harder to see if she's blushing. Not that it helps when Val's probably staring at Steph's mouth like a loon.

A long moment passes, Val somehow finding it within her to tear her eyes away from the other girl's mouth—did she mention how kissable they looked?—and staring somewhere off to the side, confused.

"Flirting, Val!" Steph groans, throwing her hands up and stalking away to pace back and forth, "I've been flirting with you since we've met!"

"What? No." Val says, scoffing, "I'd notice if you were flirting with me."

Steph gives her a look that promises some kind of spar in the future that will cause Val to possibly lose feeling in all her limbs. Val shivers at it, sure that something's wrong with her if that turns her on, as she watches the blonde take off her jacket and prowl forward towards her.

"You're so fucking stupid." Steph says, the profanity of it shocking Val enough that she doesn't react when the other girl fists a hand into her shirt to pull her forcefully towards her into a searing, almost painful kiss.

Val feels like she's having an out of body experience, like lights have blinded her. But Steph's lips are soft, her hands are holding Val's hips, her body is pressing up against Val's and Val's definitely been stupid because they could have been doing this the whole god damn time.

But she kisses back, and that's all that matters. She kisses back, and somehow her body knows how to do the rest.

Her hands trail up Steph's biceps, feeling the soft cotton of the sleeves, trailing up to drape over the other girl's neck. She tilts he head to get the angle a little better, tiptoeing just a bit to make up the distance. The kiss isn't urgent, despite the sudden nature of it. The kiss, kisses, are soft, reaching, insistent. Small little things that cumulate one on top of the other, breathing into each other's spaces, bodies trying to melt into one another.

Steph's hands roam up towards the small of her back, Val arching at the feeling of it, and Steph must like that because she moans into her mouth like it hurts. Between one breath and the next, tongues are involved, and Steph tastes divine.

It's enough to make Val lose it. Her hands trail back down to Steph's waist, bunching up the fabric as she clutches the other girl closer. It frees up space for Steph to loop her long arms around Val's neck this time, gives Val the opening she needs.

She grips tight, spinning them around and lifting Steph onto the table. The other girl graciously makes room to accommodate Val's bulk, long legs wrapping around Val's waist as her hands trail down to trace the seams of the rough denim of the other girl's jeans.

Steph pulls Val down with the arms around her neck as she leans back and what is Val to do but respond? Her hands end up gripping Steph's thighs, and the heat of her is intoxicating. It's like Val's burning from the inside out, flames licking at the roof of her mouth and trickling down her throat, pooling in her stomach and radiating a heat that threatens to melt her.

And yet still, still, the heat of Steph consumes her.

Val detaches from the other girl now, to take a moment in the steamy haze. She braces one hand on the table below them, giving her abs a much needed break from hovering over the other girl, and just breathes.

Steph is beautiful.

Val stands over her, splayed over her work table like a vision from a dream straight from some romance era painting that Val could never hope to conjure up in her most fantastical dreams. Milky white skin, pearl blue eyes, a flush that Val wants to follow helplessly with her lips, her tongue, her fingers. Her blonde hair fans out around her like a halo, scrunched and mussed and silky and beautiful.

Val was already breathless from the kissing, but now it feels like the entire room has deprived her of air.

"You're beautiful." Val breathes out with the last of her oxygen. It's worth it. It's so worth it.

Steph, who had been half lidded and dazed, quirks a soft smile. Her entire body seems to soften with it, muscles loose and arms still lazily looped around Val's neck, squeezing just a little bit, a quick little hug.

"You're not so bad yourself, you know." Steph whispers back, voice husky as she brings a hand to trace over Val's cheek, her brow. She leans up to give Val a soft peck on her cheek, and the tingles of it warm her, makes her close her eyes to lean her forehead down onto Steph's, to breathe her air, to share space.

"As nice as this is," Val starts, "I want to be clear…I don't want this to just be a fling."

If her relationship with Danny taught her anything, it was that communication was important.

"I like you, Val. I want to get to know you more, date a little." She pauses, smiles a wry smile, "Or at least, go on dates and have you know they're dates too. Maybe…girlfriends? In the future?"

Relief and embarrassment floods through her. "Yeah, yeah that sounds great. And uh, sorry. For, y'know, bein' stupid."

She curls down to bring Steph into a hug, lifting her a bit to make room for her arms against the hard wood of the table below, burying her face into the space where Steph's neck and shoulder meet, laying a kiss as gently as she can to the place she rests.

She feels the shiver that wracks through Steph from the action, feels the way her legs tighten around her, and Val breathes and breathes and breathes her in, clutching tighter.

"You're forgiven. Besides," Steph sniffs, "I wasn't going to let you take me here and now. I'm classier than that."

Val chokes on a laugh, muffling it into the other girl's shoulder. "Wouldn't have been hygienic anyway." Val wiggles a hand out, showing off the grease and oil, "Sorry about the shirt. And pants."

"I can't complain." Steph laughs, and it lights Val up. "I was the one who jumped you, after all."

"Serves you right." Val mumbles as she wraps her arm back around the other girl, causing another precious laugh.

"Can I touch your hair?" Steph's hands are rubbing her back up and down now, migrating shyly up to the back of her neck.

"Yeah, 'course." Val mumbles, trying her damnedest to become a part of the lovely girl beneath her.

Delicately, Steph seems to fiddle with her hair, as if twirling a finger through each dread, one by one.

It's a long peaceful moment before Steph breaks the silence again.

"Now that we've established that you're a moron," Her tone is soft and sweet despite the words, "and that I'm clearly moron-sexual…" Val snorts, causing Steph to whack her on the back of the shoulder lightly for the interruption.

"Wanna get some ice cream?" Val lifts up, loathe as she is to separate from the blonde, beaming, "My treat."

Steph rewards her with a smile so soft, a lovely little thing, as she curls up to give her a kiss on the cheek and whisper her answer into Val's ear.

"Thought you'd never ask."

Mechanic!Val AU, but make it gay and sapphic.

ya'll can thank the HH discord for this one. Specifically the menace known as @clockwayswrites (and @impyssadobsessions for the art that inspired the damn thing)

Dead on Main and with some future Val/Steph >)

also @belfry-ghost did a doodle for this AU and everyone should go love on his art. Val's so unf.

===

Val’s pretty sure her new boss Jay is actually a crime lord.

She’s pretty sure he’s The Crime Lord, actually. She’s like, 98% sure she works for Red Hood now, and she’s low key mad about it. She squints at the man now, with his white streak and almost imperceptible green sheen to his eyes. 

The problem is that Val did perceive it. Because she used to date a guy whose baby blue eyes changed ever so slightly in the same way. Thinking about Danny makes her even madder.

To be clear, she’s not mad about Red Hood himself. 

She’s just mad that, of all the mechanic shops in all of Crime Alley, she just had to work for her ex-boyfriend’s third place Hall Pass pick. It also makes her miss her friends way more, and Val is hardly what one would call a well-adjusted woman, so she’s mad about it.

She huffs as she lifts the hood of the second car she’s working on today. Being a mechanic wasn’t really on the docket for Val’s life goals, nor was being in Gotham, but she got a full ticket ride on Wayne Foundation scholarships, and honestly? 

Gotham is Amity Park Lite: Gargoyles and Furries Edition. 

Between a full ride to Gotham U and being stuck at Elmerton Community College? The choice was easy. 

So here she is, working for the resident Crime Lord in his civvies. 

Jay pays good, teaches her what she needs to know, and bonus: he sometimes helps with her English Literature class. He’s flexible on hours, and she’s even got rudimentary insurance. 

All in All?  It could be worse—she could still be working for Vlad, after all. 

It's the little things.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Secret Kindness

Summary: Joel Miller x Fe!Reader -> It's no secret Joel Miller could be an asshole, but it was a secret that that wasn't all he could be.

Disclaimer: I haven't finished my re-watch but I wanted to write something for him. Kinda friends to lovers, oblivious idiots in love, descriptions of scars, bruises, cleaning wounds, kinda a 'who did this to you?' trope. Swearing, light spoilers for Field of Dreams? Fluff. Not Proof Read.

It was no secret that Joel Miller could be an asshole. 

From the unspoken stories from his brother, to his treatment of people in general; untrusting, strong dislike, to simply his responses when talking to people. Mostly it was in grunts or short sentences. 

Except, for some reason nobody else could see that Joel wasn’t just an asshole. He could be kind, funny, and deeply caring. That was something you had known from the minute you’d seen him. 

Having arrived in Jackson a month or so after the winter, you had heard stories about Tommy Miller’s brother Joel. Most people called him an ass – never truly giving a reason why. But when he walked back into town with who you presumed to be his daughter with him, you saw there and then a side to Joel Miller that nobody cared to mention. 

How he constantly looked around for the girl, watched her every move in fear she might get hurt. How his hand came to her shoulders, leading her away from looking at the group of people staring at them and towards the bar where Tommy had just walked out from. 

And over the following weeks, you saw small parts of Joel that you felt nobody else had even cared to see. He helped Tommy where he could, and helped others where they’d let him. A couple of times you’d see Ellie – having met her briefly one afternoon when she was sat with Tommy as he tried to fix a toaster – struggling with her homework, only to turn to the one man who a lot of people were afraid of in town. With a calm nod, he’d walk over and help her. 

Then you finally met him. 

Usually, you were on patrol in the afternoons, taking over after Joel’s detail. Except, with one of theirs getting sick, you offered to cover. The other’s didn’t want to pair off with Joel because of their preconceived notions of him, or were more than eager to do so, which made Joel slightly uncomfortable. 

So, when you called out to be paired with him, he agreed. Though, neither of you missed the looks two of the women in the team gave you as you walked past them and followed Joel. 

That was the day you became friends with Joel. 

“You know, if it makes you that uncomfortable, I can make a swap with one of them. Just because the world went to shit doesn’t mean someone should feel like it.”

Joel thanked you and, although he never gave an actual answer to your offer, part of him was pleased to see you in detail regularly. 

Over the following weeks, you got to know more about him. About Ellie. About Tommy. About his life before Jackson. And he got to know yours. 

“Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing the right thing.” Joel suddenly said to you one day. 

You’d both been walking the grounds around the town and found yourselves looking over and in behind the wooden posts. People were mostly going about their day, working or playing. 

“Right thing about what?”

“With Ellie. She’s just a kid and she’s already seen so much. She deserves a normal life.”

“She has a normal life, Joel. As normal as it can get these days. And that’s because you gave it to her.”

“Did I, though? Y/n, she hadn’t even seen a car before we hit the road.”

With a small sigh, you walked a little further up and met Joel where he stood. “If you’re that worried about her, show her something. Teach her something. A life skill that isn’t about survival.”

“Like what?”

You shrugged and looked back over the town. There has to be something. 

“Do you know how to play the guitar?” You asked after a moment, turning back to him. 

He nodded. “Use to.”

“Well, I’ve got a guitar in my house. Found it when I was rummaging through the attic. Teach her how to play the guitar.”

You walked away and a little further through the trees, Joel quickly followed after you. “I don’t know any songs.”

“I’ve got a guitar. There’s gotta be song books somewhere in that attic. We can look when we get back into town.”

“And if there isn’t?”

“Then…make one up? It’ll be like riding a bike. Trust me.”

“Trust me.” Joel repeated. “Trust me, she says. Have you ever even played the guitar?”

You let out a small laugh. “Once. I wasn’t very good though.”

A few hours later, yourself and Joel were standing inside your house at the bottom of your attic ladders. 

“After you.” 

You stood so far away from the steps, Joel already had a feeling he knew what would be awaiting him. 

“There a reason I’m going first?” He asked, already halfway up the ladders. 

“No…”

He looked down at where you were standing; holding the ladder steady. “Okay, maybe. I found the guitar and then a massive spider. It ran away quickly. I couldn’t find it so that room is now his.”

Joel’s boots hit the floor of the attic and after a few minutes you heard a stomp before he called down to you. “Spider’s dead. You’re safe.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Walking up the ladders, you peaked your head over the edge of the floor before taking a look around. The coast was clear. And for the next twenty minutes, you and Joel rummaged through a couple of different boxes until you both found what you were looking for, including some extra things.

“Watch your step.” Joel stood behind you a little as you climbed down the last couple of steps, the heat of his hand warming your hip before he stepped around you and pushed the ladder back up into the door, closing the hatch. 

Carrying the case of books down, you followed Joel with the box of clothes that you’d deemed salvageable. 

“Thanks, for your help.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Joel nodded. “Tomorrow.”

Just before you closed the door, you called out for him. “Joel?”

He turned around. 

“You’re a good dad. And Ellie’s a good kid. You’re doing a good job.” 

He didn’t know what to say, feeling grateful if a little awkward and unsure of himself. Looking at you from the path to your home, he wanted to walk back and…hug you? He wasn’t too sure. So, with a low nod, he gave you a brief smile before he thanked you once more and headed back home. 

As the next day came into view, Joel was rushing around the kitchen since he’d missed his alarm leaving Ellie to pound her fist on his bedroom door. 

“Done your homework?”

“We don’t have homework this week.” Ellie told him as she took another stab at her eggs. “Were you meant to see Y/n this morning?”

Joel shook his head, pulling the hot toast from his toaster before reaching for the butter knife. “Don’t think so. Why?”

“Because she’s at the door.”

A knock came less than a second later and Ellie watched as Joel became something more than just flustered. “Uhhh.”

“Want me to get it?”

“Go ahead.” He reached into the cupboard above his head and pulled out a jar of peanut butter. 

As Ellie answered the door and let you inside, letting you follow her through the house towards the kitchen, Ellie didn’t miss how neater the kitchen looked since she left. 

And she didn’t miss how Joel’s hair had gone from sticking out in most places and his shirt being buttoned wrong, to being neat and tidy. 

“Y/n’s here.”

“Hey,” Joel practically breathed out. “Were we meant to meet-”

You shook your head. “No, don’t worry. I just…” You held out the pile of clothes in your hands. “I found some more clothes last night after you left. And considering they won’t fit me, I figured you might want them. I’ve dropped some into town already but I saved these in case you needed some.”

“He does.”

“Ellie.”

“What?”

Joel looked back at you. “Thank you. That’s, uhh, that’s nice. Thanks.”

With a little awkward nod, you placed them on the kitchen table where Ellie took one from the pile and held it up. It didn’t seem like it would fit Joel. 

“There’s some there for you, too,” you told her. 

“Thanks.” 

A moment of silence settled over the kitchen before Joel’s mind was kicked back into reality. “Right, you’re gonna be late. Have you got your-”

“Lunch, books, jacket.” Ellie sounded off. 

It seemed like the list was a ritual. 

“I’ve got it all now let’s go.”

You followed Joel and Ellie out of their house and through the town, Joel walking Ellie to school before he made his way further down the road and towards the stables. 

It was your day to clean out their stables and since Joel was on construction, he’d offered to be the one to help fix a couple of the stable doors. 

And all day, talking or working in silence, you both missed the looks and stares from the rest of the town paterons. 

To them they’d seen Joel go from an asshole who spoke in grunts and rough gestures to witnessing a foreign side to him that apparently you only got to see. 

When you were around him, people saw him actually smile. A few even heard him laugh. Of course, when people mentioned it to Tommy, he was a little shocked they hadn’t seen it sooner. It had shocked him to his core when he saw his brother seem a little like his older self when he was with Ellie – laughing, smiling, joking. Even if it contained a few more swear words. So when he saw Joel practically skip into work (he didn’t. But he definitely had a pep in his step) Tommy made sure to keep an eye on what had caused the change. 

The only thing that had changed in his life outside of Ellie was you. 

You’d come into his life and the side of him that was only visible to his family was very, very slowly becoming visible to the outside world. 

Then the rumors started. 

And they circulated for months. 

“Heard any good new ones?” Tommy asked, leaning over the bar top, pretending to be interested in Ellie’s homework. 

“Overheard one of the teachers. They said they’ve met before but because she was running a herbal shop when we were on the road. Apparently she slipped something into his tea that made sure he only ever liked her if they met again.”

Tommy choked back a laugh. “Well, shit.”

“Still doesn’t beat him being a warlock and being cursed to spend his entire life with her.” Ellie said.

“Do you know who started that one?”

Ellie shook her head, pretending to be interested in her homework, too. You and Joel were on the other side of the bar, setting up a couple of hanging features before Maria could get to the ladders again. Despite her being seven months pregnant, she was determined to ignore her midwife. 

“Not yet. But when I do they better run. I like Y/n.”

“I do, too. And it really should be the other way ‘round. She’s cursed to spend her life with him. I used to live with him. I’ve seen him in the morning.”

“We’ve all seen him in the morning.”

“S’Not my fault I’m not a morning person.” Tommy practically stood to attention as Joel made his way over. “You two giving me shit?”

“No,” Ellie said far too innocently. 

Joel hummed. “I’m sure. Tommy, you seen the 2x4 I left here?”

Looking under the bar, he held it up. “This?”

Joel took it from his hand. “Thanks.”

“Hey, Maria and I were thinking about having a family dinner this week? What’d you think?”

Joel nodded after taking in Ellie’s reaction. “Sure. When?”

“Tomorrow? About 7?”

Joel nodded. “We’ll be there.”

“Hey.” 

Joel turned back to his brother. “Want to invite Y/n?”

Joel looked from his brother, to you where you were measuring out the centre of the wall on the ladder, and then back to his brother. “I can ask.”

Tommy smiled and Joel went on his way. “How long do’ya think it’ll take?”

“At this rate? An eternity.”

The next evening rolled around and you found yourself being dragged towards Tommy and Maria’s home by Maria. 

“My shift ran late but I didn’t want to come empty handed.” You explained to Tommy and Joel as you were practically launched inside by the former’s wife. 

“All is forgiven.” Tommy told you as he showed his wife what was in the tupperware you’d brought with you. “Right?”

“Yes, all is forgiven. Now let’s eat.”

Sitting down at the dinner table, Joel held out his arm and let you walk inside before him, where he held your chair out for you before tucking you under and sitting beside you and Ellie sitting on his other side. 

However, halfway through dinner, your body jerked til you sat straight. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Just twisted myself.”

All in all, it was a nice family dinner. A couple stories were shared, some updates given and then you found yourself being walked home by Joel since Ellie had given a small salute to you both before reaching your path, saying she had to rush home to do…something. 

“Have fun, kids.”

“Take the main road!”

“Whatever you say!”

Joel gave a small groan. “She’s gonna give me a heart attack one of these days.”

You smiled. “She’ll be safe, Joel.”

Walking you to your door, Joel saw your body react to something that didn’t seem to be there. 

“Are you sure you’re okay? That’s the forth-”

You let out a laugh. “I promise, Joel. I’m okay. Just twisted myself on patrol today.”

He didn’t seem to believe you. “I swear. I’ll be okay.”

With a sigh, Joel accepted your promise. “Okay.”

Then you did something that even shocked you. You leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, for walking me home. And for inviting me. It was a fun night.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“We should do it more often.”

Joel smiled. “Just might.”

Then a familiar silence settled over both you and Joel. The kind of silence that was begging for something more. But then, taking in a breath, you stepped back. 

“Thank you, again. Goodnight, Joel.”

“G'night, Y/n.”

As you shut and locked the door, Joel found himself smiling as he walked away, his gaze drifting back to your home every now and again as he made his way back down the path and through the town to his own home where Ellie was waiting for him in the living room. 

“So, did you kiss her?”

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” The look Joel gave Ellie made her feel like she was under a spot-light. It was past ten pm. 

“Answer the question?”

“Ellie.”

Standing dramatically, Ellie sighed. “Come on. I know you like her. And she likes you. Why not just kiss her already? Give the rest of us a break from the looking, and the staring and the smiling and the looking.”

Taking his daughter by her shoulders, he steered her towards the stairs and up them. “Teeth and bed. Now, please.”

“Ugh, fine. But you know I’m right.”

“Goodnight, Ellie.”

Eventually, after hearing the tap turn off and Ellie’s bedroom door shut, Joel shut his own and lay down in bed, his last thoughts being on you and what Ellie had said. 

I know you like her. And she likes you.

A few days passed, however, before he saw you again. Which worried him more than he wanted to admit. But when he finally did, he knew the minute he saw you something was wrong. 

Ellie had knocked on your front door early in the afternoon having snuck out of school. She’d invited you to watch a movie or two with her and Joel that evening. 

“We found a whole bunch at the back of one of the closets. Please say yes.”

You smiled. You’d been dying to see both of them for days but the pain that had started as your side had practically spread across your entire body overnight. 

“Okay. So long as it’s okay with Joel.”

“He said it’s okay.”

Joel didn’t know anything about it until Ellie got home from school and told him what would be happening. But he wouldn’t have said no anyway. 

Ellie had practically flung the door off its hinges when she saw you walking up the steps of their porch. 

“Someone’s excited.”

“Come on, come on, come on.” 

Ellie pulled you inside and shut the door. “Joel! She’s here.”

“Is the door still attached? No Ellie sized hole in it?”

“He’s been grumpy all week.”

“I heard that!”

Then he appeared around the corner and your heart did the same thing it had been doing for weeks whenever you did see him. But that only caused you more pain in your chest. 

“Ellie, go and bring the box down. We need to see which ones need to be rewound.”

Ellie looked between the pair of you before disappearing up the stairs. 

“Hey, sorry I didn’t-”

“Show me.”

“What?” You took a small step back as Joel was about to take one forward. 

“Y/n. Show me.”

Carefully walking over to you, you shook your head. “I’m fine, Joel.”

He was a little less abrupt this time. “Show me?”

His fingers traced the hem of your t-shirt and with a reluctant but painful sigh, you carefully removed your jacket with his help. 

“Can I?”

With a soft nod, Joel took his eyes from yours and lifted the corner of your t-shirt only to be met with deep purple bruises with spots of black, green and yellow. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks. It’s starting to heal.”

Joel didn’t seem amused. “Y/n-” Then he noticed the others. “You’ve been cut. Jesus. Fuck. Come with me.”

Taking your hand in his, he pulled you towards the kitchen. “Sit down.”

“Joel, I’m fine.”

“Sit down.”

“If I sit down, it hurts more.”

Another silence washed over you both before he turned back to his freezer and pulled out a couple of ice packs. “Here…can I?”

You gave him your permission once more and he lifted your t-shirt and placed the ice packs against your sides. You could feel his thumb rubbing light lines across your side as he held you steady. 

“Got 'em’ I think a couple- holy shit.”

Ellie got a clear view of the deep bruises across you. “Ellie, can you run and get the first aid kit from the bathroom?”

“Yea, are you okay?”

You nodded. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

“Ellie.” Joel pushed. She nodded quickly then ran upstairs in search of the kit. 

“That’s what you told me.” Joel mumbled under his breath. 

“It didn’t look this bad.”

“When did it happen?”

There was no point in lying to him anymore. “Patrol before the dinner.”

“Who did it?”

“I slipped and fell against one of the trees.”

Flicking his eyes from your wounds and back to your face, one of his hands ran around the rim of your top until it was lifted high enough for him to get a clear picture, he shook his head. “Trees don’t tend to have rifles as branches.”

“It was mine.”

Joel pointed at one of the longer bruises. “This one…is yours.”

He pointed at the other one. “Whose was this?”

He looked you in your eyes but you shook your head. “Joel…”

“Got it.” Ellie landed at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Thanks, kiddo.”

Pulling a chair out, Joel sat beside you. “Sure you don’t want to sit?”

You shook your head. “Not yet.”

“Okay. Ellie, go and see if you can rewind some of those tapes.”

She just nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Joel waited until she left the room before asking you to remove your shirt. It took you a minute but with his help you finally got it over your head. Under any other context, Joel’s eyes trailing your body would have been for another reason outside of his brain counting each cut and scrape you’d gotten and each bruise that was trying its best to heal. 

“This might sting.”

You nodded and bit your lip as the cold disinfectant hit your wounds. Some of them you didn’t even know existed considering you could only turn your body so far to look in the mirror before it screamed for you to remain still. 

“Was it your partner?”

You swallowed thickly. “No.”

Your back was to him for the moment, so that made it easier to tell him the truth. “One of the others. They were hearing noises. His partner had left him and he got lost. Must have heard me and just…jumped. He didn’t mean to. He’s just a kid, Joel. He got scared. Did what most of us would have done.”

“You could have been shot.”

“But I wasn’t. I’m okay, Joel.”

He shook his head. “Says the woman covered in bruises and scars.”

“They’ll heal. I’ll heal.”

“What’s his partner’s name?”

“Joel.”

“Just tell me. If you don’t, I’ll ask around and Maria can be the one to deal with him.”

You sighed. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“What his partner did was stupid.”

“Joel.”

He grunted. “I promise.”

Swearing halfway through as Joel pressed another cotton swab of disinfectant to a scar, you told him his name. Joel had a couple of run ins with him over the last couple of months. A jock twenty years out of college, still trying to haze the kids under his authority. 

Ten minutes or so later, Joel had finished and replaced the ice packs you’d been holding at your side. 

Laying them on either side of your body as you turned around, your t-shirt falling back around your body. He slowly stood and you held onto his arms, your eyes closing. 

“Any better?”

You nodded. “Much. Thank you.”

You both stood there for a few moments, your eyes closed, feeling the throbbing in your sides settle more than it had done in the last couple of days. And as you let out a calm breath, Joel leaned against you a little and pressed a kiss to your forehead before you rested it against his chest. 

“I think I’m ready to sit now.”

“Okay,” Joel whispered before pressing another kiss to the top of your head before walking with you into the living room, finding a set up already made by Ellie. 

“I thought the blankets might help.”

You smiled at her. “Thank you, Ellie.”

She smiled from her spot on the floor by the TV, her finger still holding the rewind button down. Joel helped you sit down. 

“So, what are the options?”

Ellie read out a couple of the boxes. There were a lot of Disney films, a couple of thrillers and a few more different blockbusters. So, sticking his hand into the box without looking, Joel pulled one out. 

Ellie read the cover. “Field of Dreams.”

“Ooh, that’s a good one.”

Ellie looked at Joel for confirmation and he nodded. “Stick it in, kid.”

Sitting beside you, you leaned against Joel for support and very soon after, Ellie joined his other side. 

“Does he dream about a field?”

“Just watch it and you’ll find out.”

Around 40 minutes into the movie, Joel felt a steady weight against his arm where he turned and found Ellie fast asleep. So carefully reaching over, he pulled a blanket over her and held her steady against him. 

“She asleep?”

“Yep. Yet to get through a movie with her awake.”

You smiled. 

“You get much sleep recently?”

“Enough to keep me going.” Joel didn’t say anything but when he placed his arm around your shoulders, that said everything. 

“This always made me cry.” You whispered to Joel as Archie stepped across the line and became his older self. 

“How many times have you seen this film?” He’d caught you a couple of times mouthing the lines along with the characters. 

You felt your cheeks heat. “A couple. Before I came to Wyoming, one of my neighbours had a VCR and two films. This and The Parent Trap. Since I’d look after her two kids when she worked, it didn’t take long for me to learn the scripts.”

“So how much do you know of The Parent Trap?”

You felt yourself chuckle. “We can watch it and find out.”

Joel laughed quietly, too, before carefully pulling you closer. “How’s your side?”

You looked up at him. “Better. Thank you.”

“Good.”

Joel pressed a kiss to your head before getting settled with both you and Ellie. And just as Kevin Costner started to play a game of catch, you felt yourself drift off to sleep. 

You didn’t know how long had passed since the movie ended but when your body hit a soft surface, you stirred awake. 

“Shush, it’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

“Joel.”

“It’s okay. I’m gonna check on Ellie.”

Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to your head but you mustered enough energy to reach out for him. “Come back.”

“I promise.” Lifting your hand, he pressed a light kiss to your knuckles. You woke up again when a weight dipped on the other side of the bed. Then you heard a familiar groan as his body settled into the softness of the mattress. 

You shuffled closer to Joel. 

Waking for the third time, the room was being lit with the soft rays of the sun and beside you, deep breaths were being taken by Joel as he remained in a deep sleep. 

If this was anyone else, you probably would have left. Hell, you wouldn’t have fallen asleep in the first place. But you trusted Joel. More so than most. You also found him to be steadier than most. He’d shared some of what had happened on the road with him and Ellie, as well as what happened before. Life hadn’t been steady with him, and yet, there he lay. Stable. Able. Strong. Maybe not as he was twenty years ago, but still. Trustworthy. And beneath it all…kind. Caring. Sensitive; even if he wouldn’t admit it. He knew when people were hurt, or hurting. And maybe for others he’d seem gruff. But not with you. Not with Ellie. Not with those he loved and cared deeply for. 

With his hand wrapped over yours, you lifted it and pressed a kiss to the back of his hand. Maybe Joel Miller could be an asshole. But to you he was a decently kind man. 

Maybe others wouldn’t see that considering between the hour that Joel had left to pick a package up from Tommy, leaving you and Ellie to find another tape to play, your attacker’s partner found his nose broken and had been given a black eye. But you didn’t mind his kindness being kept a secret from the rest of the world. 

Those he cared for knew the truth. 

You knew the truth. 

And nothing could ever change that.