#She said it was part of the reason for it something like that unless it wasnt ww2

[illbegottenfaith]

walking away with your kiss on my cheek...

your relationship with theo starts to sour as you begin to suspect him of keeping secrets from you (theo nott x reader)

a/n - first part of a two-shot I've written! Ngl this thing has gone through wayyy too many drafts and revisions so it’s barely an u healthy relationship, more like unhealthy coping mechanisms, but I have a couple of slightly more intense takes on the trope lined up as well :)

tropes/warnings - mildly (veryyy mildly) toxic/unhealthy relationship descriptions, established relationship, mentions of infidelity, miscommunication, angst

word count - 1.9k

When it came to love languages, Theodore Nott’s was distance. Many of his past relationships had failed once he'd deemed them too suffocating. Nobody had suited him quite like you did. The two of you had somehow stumbled into a mutual understanding of what you wanted out of a relationship. Some considered what you shared too casual to be considered a relationship. You had your separate schedules and commitments, and in your downtime, you kept one another company.

But it worked for the two of you. The best relationships are built between people on the same page, and your perfectly aligned perspectives made the little time you spent together that much sweeter. In fact, things had been going along swimmingly until Katherine entered the picture.

She, or at least the idea of her, entered your life one foggy morning. You were dead on your feet. The aconite you had been tending to as part of your Herbology project demanded your every waking moment outside of your classes. You were just about to fall asleep into your soft-looking, pillowy scrambled eggs when Ivy half-yelled into your ear, as she was prone to doing.

"Didn't know Theo got a new girlfriend!"

Your head snapped up and you groaned. Okay, maybe she wasn't yelling as much as everything sounded ten times louder with that throbbing behind your right temple. You blinked blearily at your friend.

"Huh?"

"Someone's been spending an awful lot of time with Katherine."

It took you a moment to register that you had no idea who Ivy was talking about.

"Katherine Sawyer," she repeated. "Theo's been getting pretty cosy with her, hasn't he?"

Something must have shown on your face, because she immediately dropped the suggestive lilt to her voice.

"I mean - I'm only kidding. It's just that I saw them in the library again last night for, like, the third time this week. I thought you knew." She peered closer at your dark eye bags. "Damn. Are you getting any sleep?"

You shook yourself out of the shock and gave a small smile. "Of course I knew," you lied. If being with Theo had taught you anything, it was how to lie convincingly. "I'm exhausted, that's all."

"Yeah, you look it," Ivy agreed sympathetically. "But really, I was kidding. It's not like he'd do anything. Not Theo."

"Right." You smoothly changed the subject. "So how's your project coming along?"

Still, it bothered you for the rest of the day. Why hadn't he told you about Katherine? He knew you weren't the jealous type, especially when it came to perfectly innocent interactions with the opposite sex. Unless there was a reason for him to keep it from you. You had thought that neither of you was the type to keep secrets from the other, but maybe you had thought wrong. And if he hadn't told you about Katherine, well, what else was he not telling you about?

You dismissed the thought. You were too sleep-deprived for this. It just wasn't like him. Theo would never pursue another girl, not while he already had one on his arm.

Right?

These thoughts were still circulating in your head when you found him reading in the Slytherin common room that evening. You approached him as you always did, but something about what Ivy had said that morning made you hesitate. He didn't look up from his well-worn copy of The Divine Comedy in the original Italian until he felt you sink into the couch beside him. He gave you a strange look before pulling you into his lap, nestling his head in the crook of your neck, the way the two of you usually curled up together when one of you was reading.

"Don't be going shy on me now," he teased lightly. You shushed him, tapping the paperback. As you settled your head on his shoulder, he glanced at your face. "You look tired," he noted quietly. You pulled a face.

"Who knew aconite could be such a bitch?"

Theo turned the page. "I knew. I'd say I told you so, but - ow."

You had sharply tugged at the short hairs at the nape of his neck as a warning. You laughed softly as you ran a soothing thumb over the mildly irritated skin, kissing it better. It was moments like these that made it difficult to harbor any sort of suspicion or resentment towards your boyfriend. As moody and mysterious as he liked to come off, to you he was an open book.

But he still hadn't told you about Katherine.

A few weeks later, Theo and a few others were about to leave for a two-week cultural exchange trip to Durmstrang's. Ivy had dragged you down to the Great Hall where everyone was saying their goodbyes, before disappearing into the crowd in search of Ivan.

Somewhat reluctantly, you walked up to your own boyfriend. Between his trip preparations and your Herbology project, the two of you hadn’t had a minute together for the past week and a half, a new record, even for a relationship as casual as yours.

“Got everything?”

Theo nodded. In his soft, fitted navy blue sweatshirt pushed halfway up his forearms, he looked effortlessly put together. You weren’t scruffy yourself, either. That was why you had any kind of relationship at all, wasn’t it? The two of you made an attractive couple, at least when you acted like one.

You looked over at Ivy, whose boyfriend was humoring a much sappier farewell than yours and Theo's. Scratch that, Ivan lived for Ivy's oddities and eccentricities. Right now, Ivy was kicking a fuss over a fortnight being simply too long of a time to be apart while Ivan promised to call every single night. Occasionally, you had wondered what it would feel like to be in a relationship like theirs, where two weeks apart would be nothing short of agony rather than routine.

As you turned back, you noticed Theo had been following your gaze. He cleared his throat delicately.

"So...two weeks."

"Mhm." You weren't the type of couple to explicitly express affection, especially of the vulnerable kind. You'd miss him, of course, even if you didn't say it. Would he miss you? You shook your head internally. No, you decided, you wouldn't ask. You'd only seem clingy and that wasn't the kind of couple you were. "Be good, have fun."

He adjusted the strap of his duffle bag. You fixed the collar of his jacket. You wondered if he'd tell you about Katherine before he left. From somewhere else in the Great Hall, one of his friends called him over. He pressed a final chaste kiss to your cheek. You watched him walk away with a hollow sort of feeling in your stomach. Merlin forbid you express any kind of attachment to your boyfriend.

He glanced back at you one last time, fidgeting with the strap of his bag, and just like that, he was gone.

Gone.

He didn't say a word about Katherine.

As the two weeks crawled by achingly slow, you tried to convince yourself that you didn't feel the lack of Theo. You had gone longer without talking to him. Hell, before you started dating, you'd only occasionally meet through mutual friends.

But you had never spent time apart feeling this acrid bitterness towards him.

Unbeknownst to you, your friends had picked up on your frutration, especially in the way you had thrown yourself into your work with renewed vigour, doing your best to keep conversations from straying to topics related to Theo.

"I'm going to the owlery to check for letters from Ivan," Ivy was saying one evening, pulling a woollen hat onto her head. "Wanna come with?"

You barely spared her a glance, writing carefully. "Can't. I have this essay to finish."

Ivy deflated visibly. "Don't you want to see if you have anything from Theo?”

You shrugged. You couldn’t be disappointed if you didn’t expect anything.

“Have you heard from him at all?” Ivy pressed.

You gave her a warning look. “Ivy. Stay out of it.”

“Come on, Y/N. Why don’t you call him? I'm sure he misses you."

You laughed derisively, nearly stabbing a hole in the parchment. You might have done that any other time, but you were too mad about his imaginary affair with Katherine.

“Miss me? Theo doesn’t miss me.”

“How can you be so sure? You don’t know what he’s-“

“Because if he missed me,” you finally snapped, "he’d call. Or send me an owl. But he hasn't, alright? He hasn't called and I haven't gone to the owlery because no one's missing anybody. He's doing perfectly fine without me, just as I'm doing perfectly fine without him."

No one's missing anybody.

Tears prickled behind your eyes. You stubbornly watched Ivy turn blurrier and blurrier as you failed to blink them back. Your gaze landed on your essay, and the spots where your tears had caused the ink to run. Your essay was ruined.

You pressed a trembling hand to your eyes as you finally caved in, a pair of warm, comforting hands almost immediately coming to rest on your shaking shoulders. As miserable as you had been, you hadn't acknowledged the pain, let alone how it was eating away at you. Once you started crying, it was as though you didn't know how to stop.

“Why won’t he call, Ivy?” you choked out. "Doesn't he think about me?"

"Of course he does," Ivy soothed. "He's probably just insanely busy."

You sniffled. "How busy can a person be? One phone call, one letter, anything - is that really too much to ask?"

Ivy hesitated. The silence stretched out between you like the confirmation of a truth neither of you wanted to admit. She said it anyway.

“Maybe he thinks you don’t need that from him."

You laughed, the sound sharp and humorless. “Well, he got that part right.”

You sounded ridiculous even to your own ears. It was a testament to your friendship that Ivy didn’t try to argue with you. She gave your shoulder one last squeeze before standing, her footsteps soft as she made her way to the door. “I’m going to the owlery,” she said, lingering for a moment. “If there’s anything for you -"

"- burn it."

" - I’ll bring it back.”

You focused on the ruined essay in front of you. Messy smudges had formed where your tears had fallen. It was beyond repair, much like the knot in your chest that no amount of rationalising seemed to untangle.

As the door closed behind Ivy, an unbearable silence descended upon your dorm. You pressed your hands against your temples, willing yourself to stop thinking about him, about how easy it seemed for Theo to carry on without you. Maybe that was the worst part—the inescapable realisation that you weren’t half as essential to him as he was to you.

You stared at the blurred words on the parchment, feeling the ache settle deeper into your chest. There was no scintillating revelation, no blinding eureka moment. Just the quiet, gnawing thought that maybe this was all you’d ever be to him—an afterthought.

And maybe, you thought bitterly, crumpling your essay, you deserved it for letting yourself believe otherwise.

[chaos-in-deepspace]

Zayne's Chocolate Incident (Discussion)

Aight so this is spoilers for the newest 5-Star Banner for Zayne, but felt I should discuss it since I've seen some discourse about it that I've been seeing. If you don't mind spoilers or have already seen it, then you can continue under the cut.

So I've been seeing two different things being brought up about this, and it's:

MC not telling Zayne it was alcoholic chocolate and how horrible that makes her.

Zayne pretending to be drunk (or how the fuck did this man get drunk) discussions.

Let's start with the 1st one!

MC not telling Zayne about the chocolate

People are making it out to be super problematic, as if MC was trying to get Zayne drunk for amusement, or maybe it's just the fact that there was alcohol in the chocolate and she didn't tell him.

I dunno if y'all have ever had alcoholic chocolate, but for the most part...you eat it for the flavor. In fact, the alcohol content in it is so low it's laughable. It would be impossible for someone to get drunk off a single chocolate unless they were an actual toddler (hell a toddler would probably be fine). Not to mention chocolate contains both sugars and fats...two things that are known for helping you sober up when drunk.

In essence, you're eating the chocolate for the flavor alone. The taste of the alcohol in the chocolate can help accentuate the flavor and it's good. Unless I had a friend allergic to chocolate or didn't drunk due to religious reasons, I probably wouldn't bat an eye at it.

To put it into context, one piece of chocolate contains about 1.8% alcohol in general. An average shot of alcohol is 40%. I could probably eat 20 of those chocolates and maybe feel a slight buzz...if that. Pair that with the sugar and fat content of it, it makes it even harder to get drunk off of it.

This is probably why MC didn't say anything about the chocolate. You're eating it for the flavor, not the effects, and Zayne likes sweets. It's common knowledge in this fandom. I'd probably offer it to him too because hey, it's a different type of chocolate that won't be giving you negative effects like getting drunk.

Not to mention Zayne originally only took a bite of the chocolate, and managed to realize it had alcohol in it. He then proceeded to continue eating it, which probably meant he was also aware that this kind of chocolate is made for enjoyment not getting drunk.

Hell MC was fucking shook when Zayne ended up getting drunk from said chocolate because she clearly didn't think it was possible, and the proceeded to take care of him with a bit of teasing on the side (something he's also done a bit of when MC was drunk).

At the end of the day it's up to your opinion if MC not telling Zayne it had alcohol makes her a horrible person, in my opinion it doesn't. She knew he didn't have religious reasons and he wasn't allergic, and she didn't think it was possible to even get tipsy over a single chocolate.

Now for the second part:

Zayne getting drunk

It's a trope. It's a trope people. In fact it happens in K-dramas pretty often from what I've heard from those who watch them. They wanted to find a believable way to get the composed Zayne to get drunk. None of us can really see Zayne actively drinking since he's made it clear he doesn't, but he ain't gonna turn down chocolate.

I also don't believe Zayne was lying or playing up the drunk part. Again it was to fit a trope. They wanted to get Zayne drunk for the card, so they made him drunk. Same reason we got the cat banners. They wanted the men to have cat ears and came up with a random thing. Same reason we got the Wander in Wonder event. They wanted an excuse to put them in unique clothing that's outside of the norm.

It's for tropes.

Also these are fictional characters in a fictional world.

I think with having said that, it's kinda cleared up the case of the alcoholic chocolate. Realistically Zayne wouldn't have been drunk, even if he's a lightweight beyond lightweight, it just isn't plausible. He got drunk because he's a fictional character and that's what the devs wanted. If he was sober it wouldn't have made for a very exciting card.

[camcat1320]

I feel like a component is missing in this analysis. Azula has many mental health issues stemmed from narcissistic abuse and abandonment. Therefore, she will not act in a typical manner. It's never stated in the show but some people theorize she might have schizophrenia and/or borderline personality disorder. I have a friend with BPD who sees themself in Azula. However, having a mental health disorder is not an excuse, rather it's a reason. Azula doesn't get a pass for her bad deeds, she must be held accountable and own up to her mistakes. But this isn't possible unless she does the necessary work, ergo her redemption arc.

Let's look at those that have abandoned her, whether real or imagined, rational or irrational; Lu Ten, Iroh, her grandfather, her mother, Zuko, Mai, Ty Lee, and her father. Her circles of influence became smaller and smaller until all that remained was her father. Then he pigeon-holed her into the position of Firelord, leaving her behind. All of this could've caused her to develop a disorganized attachment style characterized as unpredictable, intense push and pull. Zuko might have an anxious attachment style due to his mother's disappearance and his father's conditional "love". He is highly emotional and seeks validation when we meet him but over time, he does the work and he heals his inner wounds.

I interpret Azula as only acting in a way that Ozai would approve. Why did Azula even go to Zuko's bedroom to tell him that "dad's going to kill you". If she wanted him gone, she could've just kept her mouth shut. Zuko would've been out of the picture, her mother would still be there, and she would be next in line for the throne. She had everything to gain from not telling. But she did. And to top it off, she said "maybe a nice Earth Kingdom family will adopt you." She doesn't want her brother to die. She offered a solution to his problem. Yes, she acted mean and condescending but it is all an act. If she shows genuine care, that is considered weakness and Ozai does not tolerate weakness.

Now the part about lying about Zuko killing the Avatar. I agree that it was Azula hedging her bets. Again, though, she had everything to gain with simply arresting Zuko. With Zuko in prison, she'd be the next firelord, no question. Why is she going against her own interests? We learn later that mirror Ursa says that Azula uses fear to control her friends. She could've been using fear to control Zuko. She wants Zuko to be in her life, but she needs something to hold him there, some blackmail against him that'll make him stay. She lies about Zuko killing the avatar, letting him restore his honor and earning their father's love, the things Zuko wanted the most. If it were that the avatar is alive, everything that Zuko wanted will be taken from him in an instant. Azula uses Zuko's fear to control him, to keep him close, believing it was a slim chance he'd betray her given the high stakes. But she was wrong. She says "I'm about to celebrate becoming an only child!" But behind the mask, she could be silently screaming, "You left me!"

There's a lot about Azula we don't know and we are making assumptions based on what little we got of her. However, imagine if there was a Book 4 like the head writer was planning from the beginning? We see Azula reveal more about her past and see her be challenged, letting her character grow. I think it would've been a beautiful redemption arc, giving hope to those that can relate to Azula and show that it is possible to find happiness.

what bugs me about azula redemption discourse is the fact that people genuinely think azula lied that zuko killed the avatar to show she cares for him. if she cared about him, she wouldve had the courtesy to warn him instead of blindsinding him during the meeting. That just added to his anxiety and while her fears of what ozai would do if her if she disappointed him are validated by ozai's actions, that gives her no right at all to knowingly put her own brother in the position. she literally said, "you can't treat me like zuko!" in the finale, which says a lot about how aware she was of how zuko was treated, and the fact that she recognized that that's not how she would like to be treated.

Oh yeah, this is a pretty wide-spread problem in the atla fandom in general but I notice a lot of it in specific azula-stanning (and usually zuko-hating) corners, where it's like 'Azula never even really did anything bad and how dare people call her one of Zuko's abusers for sibling rivalry stuff' as if gleefully crowing to your brother that your father is going to kill him or watching with a smirk of satisfaction as your father brutalizes him is all just 'normal sibling rivalry stuff'. Nevermind what came later, like actually trying to kill him.

So we end up with this kind of discourse that relies on making up a bunch of stuff that honestly doesn't make sense nor fit in with what we do know of these characters and the situation, but because they can do enough mental gymnastics to make her out to be The Real Victim Here then anyone who doesn't agree just hates abuse victims or whatever.

The fact is, at its most charitable interpretation, Azula was bare minimum hedging her bets. Because this scene:

comes before Zuko's meeting with Ozai, where we hear this:

And then, as if that weren't enough, we have Azula herself admitting it:

I feel like a lot of Azula stans who insist she was just trying to help Zuko, that she cared for him and was just trying to help him return home with honor, missed this part of the conversation, or just conveniently forget about it when it comes to defending their fave. But while Azula initially claims she did it to help Zuko out of the goodness of her heart, she comes right out herself and says she doubts Zuko's conviction about the Avatar's death, and she doesn't want any blowback to fall on her if and when the Avatar eventually resurfaces.

She was, at bare minimum, covering her own ass, with little regard for how it would ultimately affect her brother (for whom she has little care or concern, according to how we see their relationship playing out). Lines like you can't treat me like Zuko help to highlight this, because while, yes, they are both victims of the same abusive parent, Azula also became an active agent in Zuko's abuse, and the realization that to their abuser they are both just as disposable even after everything she did for him within that framework is a huge part of what led to her complete psychological breakdown in the finale.

[startheskelaton]

I have a question

How would Megstron, Soundwave, Shockwave, and Starscream react about Sparkplug, Nightflyer, and Soundblaster being together?

In my opinion, Soundwave would be chill about it like:

Others, however...... well..... it be like

Megatron:

Shockwave:

and Starscream:

Yeah that’s pretty accurate.

Soundwave isn’t one to get on Sparkplug about a relationship unless senses that there’s an imbalance of effort. Seeing that all three genuinely care about one another in a deep way then just “I wanna be in a relationship” is good. So he’s chill.

Megatron is very protective as we’ve seen. He also still has an underlying dislike of Starscream, mostly just out of spite (dispute being the reason Starscream is the way he is now). He would definitely not like Nightflyer for multiple reasons, be it he’s not honest, or that his real personality is too annoying or just that he’s related to Starscream in any way. However he can’t help but see a bit of Optimus in him, specifically, the old Orion pax that he used to know. With Soundblaster he’s a little less judgmental, mostly because he sees it as Sparkplug having her equivalent of a Soundwave (a dedicated right hand man). Though he’s still kinda freaked out by him, so he keeps an eye out for the bot.

Shockwave was more pissed over the fact that Megatron’s daughter took away his son’s loyalty to him, basically reenacting when Meg’s and Soundwave left together. He’s more mad about it in a symbolic way rather than a “I care about my son” way. With Nightflyer he’s not worried, because he can count on Nightflyer choosing his family no matter what. So as long as he’s got Starscream under his thumb, Nightflyer isn’t going anywhere.

Starscream is conflicted, because during the war, despite being on different sides of the war, Optimus prime always treated him with respect and dignity. Something that he would remember and weigh heavy on him as he would accidentally kill him, he regrets it dearly too this day. However, Megatron was not only just a leader that led through pure emotion (strategy be damned) but he also pushed Starscream to become the vindictive, shifty and plotting monster he is today. So when seeing Sparkplug… he has to constantly remind himself that she’s part Megatron so he won’t feel sympathy towards her. The same can be said for Soundblaster, the son of the bot that’s using Star as a puppet to control Cybertron? There’s no way this boy isn’t just a way to get more control over Starscream’s family. But yet again, he knows what it’s like to be ignored by your caretaker. So yeah… conflicted

[oncominggstorm]

My aunt decided a good way to wish me a happy birthday would be to text me a picture of me & my dead dad from my 22nd birthday.

Like yay thanks, I totally wanted to be sad and missing my dad on my birthday. I definitely wasn't trying to do the "out of sight out of mind don't think about sad things" thing to get through it without crying or anything 👍 Definitely wasn't already struggling missing not getting a happy birthday text from him 👍👍

[devilsskettle]

whenever i hear a song that i would like if it weren’t for the fact that it was too long, i think about this:

like you can afford to write tangentially if you/your music is already popular and you know that people are going to listen to you no matter what and in fact laud your longer pieces as being genius etc but can you really be releasing 5+ minute long songs without a built-in audience?

[phantasmique]

Synopsis: You're pregnant by the King of Curses, but as violent as he is, there might just be some gentleness beneath it all.

Warnings: Mentions of cannibalism; a tiny, tiny dash of blink-and-you'll-miss-it spice; murder (it's sukuna).

Part two.

There were many things to consider as a consort to the King of Curses. His proclivity for violence, his cold indifference towards humanity. He's crushed thousands of lives beneath the palms of his hands, spilt blood and sliced flesh beneath his talons simply because the urge had struck him. He's cut down women just like you, for something as simple as breathing too loudly.

It hardly comes as a surprise whenever you wake in the morning, long before the sun has crested past the horizon in shades of gold and lilac, only to learn that another one of your fellow concubines has fallen to your lord's ire. Slain for reasons that you have longed since elected to ignore. They mattered little in grand scheme of things, and they often came down to small, tedious motives: She took too long to respond to one of his questions, she stuttered when she responded to him, she gazed at him for too long without permission.

You've learned long ago not to care. You've snuffed that part of yourself out. Crushed it underfoot as easily as one would do to a troublesome insect. Empathy will not ensure your survival in the King of Curses courts, and you've done well to persist after all of these years.

To nod when expected, to keep your eyes leveled to the floor unless ordered otherwise, to speak only when spoken to even while the urge to berate him burns at the tip of your tongue like something molten. A hot ember in your mouth, but you refuse to spit it out.

You learned how to read him. To see the subtle ticks and expressions that would show on his face, using them as a guide for his fickle moods. You knew your place. You knew how to survive. And as exhausting as it was, it was manageable. All was well, until it wasn't.

❃ "You're pregnant." It was clipped, blunt, detached. Said so candidly, as though he hadn't said something that had your heart plummeting down into the pit of your stomach like a stone. You had looked up at him then, wide eyed and openly gawking from your place posted at his feet with something like a scoff threating to spill past your lips. Your mind had scrambled, crawling for an explanation, longing for an answer.

That isn't possible. Curses aren't capable of reproducing. You know that he was human once, a long time ago, but that bit of his humanity must have long since perished. Right?

Pregnant. That shouldn't be achievable for you to produce a child with a curse. That had been a small shred of peace, a truth that you had clung to. That you had kept close to your chest, knowing that regardless of how many times he'll take you, carving a place in you for his pleasure, that you'd never have to bear his heir.

You do love your lord, in a twisted sort of way. He isn't merciful, or kind in any capacity. The brutal, corrupt entity that he is. But he does provide a safety that you might not otherwise had, a home and leniency towards your village that others have not been afforded; thus, a grace extended to your family.

Still . . . someone like Sukuna as a father. Was he even capable of such a thing?

It's true that your time of the months was late, but that had been easy to excuse. Your monthly blood had been overdue before. Delayed by stress and anxiety. And with Sukuna as a lover, you would not dare to sleep with another man. Not that you'd want to, anyway.

But surely he was lying. That wasn't possible. You couldn't be pregnant. Not by a curse. Not by him.

Your mouth had opened, lips parting to speak. To gasp or to deny his claim you weren't sure, but he had silenced you before you could even attempt to force a word out. Lazily lifting a single hand while all four of his eyes slipped down to settle on you, glaring red and piercing in the dark of the shrine.

"I wasn't a question." His nose twitched just the slightest, as though he's caught the scent of something odd, but you were certain the there was a smile nudging at the corners of his lips. As though some part of him was pleased.

Your voice was snagged. Dead in your throat. You had to draw in a tight, shaky breath to even attempt to form a sentence. "That's not pos-"

"I can smell it on you." He answered. Still lounging on his throne. Undisturbed while your world crumbled. " It's practically wafting from your pores. Make no mistake woman, you're carrying my heir."

❃ You had expected a swift death after that. There was no way that the King of Curses would ever entertain the notion of a lowly human bearing his offspring. Tainting his blood line. But the killing blow never came. It nearly made your unease worse. You aren't ignorant to his diet. His taste for human flesh. For the blood of women and children. It made you feel like a pig for slaughter. Meat being preserved for a feast. You've always been a prisoner here, a slave to his wiles, but now you were an animal, a brood mare. You've only ever had to try and save your own skin. To worry for your own life, but now you weren't afforded the luxury of selfishness. You had an unborn life growing in your belly and it had terrified you.

❃ But instead of shunning you, Lord Sukuna was showering you with a sense of possessiveness that you have never experienced from him before. Sure, you were used to the marks. The blotches of plum and blue and crimson that he would scatter along the flesh of your neck and breasts, the tender pink lines that he would mar along your skin, branding your hips and thighs from his talons. But his greed extended little beyond that. You were free to wander the courtyard with the other courtesans at your side. Small moments of serenity that you were all given in between your duties. Free to gossip, and read, or nap beneath the Sakura and plum trees; admiring the petals as they fall and glide across the currents. Carried off far past the shrine walls.

Sometimes, you'd imagine that those petals were you.

Now those small blessings are a peace that you are no longer extended. Guards now follow your every move. Stalking behind you closely like shadows. Silent, constant, and close. Always looming. Always there by Sukuna's decree to monitor and scrutinize you.

❃ You were no longer ordered to sit along the steps, posted at his feet like a loyal dog. He had you perched on his lap instead. Cradled on his thighs. Constantly gripped by at least one of his hands in some compacity. He had become keen on holding a palm to your stomach whether he fully realized it or not. Keeping it flat on your abdomen as though he was shielding your unborn child from the world, with the massive height of his body pinned along your back. Keeping you clutched to his chest as he was waiting for a threat to try and snatch you from him.

He'd keep you there for hours, seated between his massive thighs while peasants and aristocrats alike would get on their knees at the base of the throne's steps, bowing on their knees and begging for mercy and exemption from his slaughter. All while you were in something that was suspiciously close to an embrace. Not that you would voice such a thing to him. Not even with the safety of carrying his child offering some sort of immunity. Not at the risk of invoking his anger. But with how tightly he kept you secured in his arms, his chin raised over the crown of your head, there was little else to call it. And you loathed how much you were beginning to find comfort in it.

❃ Of course, he'd always find ways to shatter that sense of delicate security, whether or not he truly meant to. Namely when he had a servant executed. All because the young man had paid you too much attention; foolishly asking you if you needed any assistance navigating the gardens given your "delicate condition" as he had put it, offering his hand for you to take in the means to help you in your steps. All it had taken was for his fingertips to brush along yours.

In second he was there. Living, breathing, rosy cheeks and a kind smile. And then red. A crest of blood fanning out from his neck. And those gentle eyes. A brief flicker of life in them, and then dull. Muted like a set of worn marbles.

His severed head met stone with a heavy thud, rolling and rolling softly until its traction was halted by grass and moss. His body followed only moments later. No longer held up by spirit and blood, it gave beneath its own weight; knees buckling to collapse like a felled tree.

Despite the balmy nature of the breeze, gentle and humid, you felt frozen. As though your veins had been rushed with chilled water. You couldn't breathe as you stared at his body, disconnected and lifeless like a child's toy that's been carelessly broken and discarded.

"Pathetic vermin. He should know better than to touch things that don't belong to him." His shadow stretched over you then, eclipsing you from the light as the moon does the sun. His cursed energy prickled over your skin, seeping past the barrier of your garments to brush over your flesh, locking your limbs in place.

"A simple warning would have sufficed," you mumbled. Forcing your words out past the heavy feeling of your tongue. They feel broken and hushed all at once, but you can't stop looking at the way the rich maroon seeps out across the fresh green of the lawn, mixing with the morning dew.

His voice slips out into your ears then, a low rumble, possessive and unyielding. "I don't do second chances."

❃ You could hardly call a being like Sukuna soft. He was all hard edges. Harsh. From his brash, unyielding attitude to the rigid planes of his body. Taut muscles and serrated talons. Violent teeth that were honed to tear through flesh and snap bone, but it was undeniable that something in him had relented. Turned malleable by the sight of the bump peeking out from the layers of your skirts. Not quite tame, but . . . tolerable.

❃ He had requested - ordered - that you sleep with him in his quarters from that point onward. A command that split through the haze in your skull like the snapping of a neck.

Your brain was still cloudy. Fogged over and drawn blank by an intoxicated thrum, limbs lax and exhausted after he had drawn orgasm after orgasm from your body. Tipping you over the edge and under a rush of pleasure with a sadistic kind of delight; a sharp, wolfish smile had been split across his face.

The mere idea of getting up from your place on his bed and shuffling your way back to your sleeping quarters on wobbling legs, smeared with cum and sweat had seemed horrendous, but you knew what was expected of you. It had been muscle memory when you nudged your body up from the bedding, slipping your legs over the edge as you scanned the floor for your tattered jūnihitoe; ripped and torn in his fervor to have you naked. Discarded somewhere carelessly.

Then a hand was gripping you. Holding you tightly by the nape of your neck as one would scruff an untoward cat. It had a cold dose of fear skirting beneath your flesh, shivering down your spine and locking you in place as easily as the grip on your neck.

"You're to sleep here from now on."

It was firm. Final. No room for you to argue. And you didn't.

❃ It's lead you to an unexpected discovery. The King of Curses can purr. You had hardly believed it when you first heard it. A low, repetitive hum that had roused you from your sleep in the night. A guttural noise right beneath your ear, breaking periodically in between the gentle rise and fall of his chest. It had caught you entirely off guard. So much so, that in the moment, you assumed you were imagining it. A hallucination brought on by sleep. But the longer you stayed awake, forcing your eyes to remain open as you lifted your head to stare at the slumbering King of Curses, it was unmistakable - he was purring.

Like a kitten would. A soft, gentle sound that juxtaposed horrendously with an entity like him. It nearly made you laugh, but you had just enough wit and self-restraint to contain the sound before it could bubble up to the surface.

You aren't certain how long you had remained that way. Slightly propping yourself up to admire him in the dark, tracing over his face as the light of the moon poured into the room, painting over his skin in hues of blue and soft white; painted by the night.

His scowl softens in his sleep. The furrow between his brows fading into something placid, that arrogant grin - more of a snarl, really - now neutral. He almost looks harmless in moments like these. No glinting teeth or glaring, burning eyes. It's here that you can imagine that he isn't a possible threat. That he won't place you between his fangs and bite until there's nothing over left except for scraps and shards of bone.

❃ He's kind in his own way. A thought that you never once expected yourself to have. Not in regard to him, at least. But he tries, in his own way, to be gentle. When walking with him in the past, you were always expected to trail after him by a few paces, never at his side, but now he makes an effort to guide you at his side. Keeping a hand secured to the small of your back so that you don't fall behind. Now he he's forgone that all together and has taken to totting you around all together as easily as if you were made of feathers and cushion.

It's become a chore to move. Your sense of balance has been altered for the worse, thrown off by the weight of your belly that longs to tip you forward. And the swelling of your feet does little to help, smarting and uncomfortable. You're a stranger in your own skin. Sluggish, as though you've been packed in tight and tugged down by stones.

He's rushed you before in the past, glaring down at you from over his shoulder without a shred of sympathy. He appeared as though he was possibly considering in finally smiting you down, inconvenienced by your lumbering as you willed yourself to follow after him down the corridor in a sluggish waddle.

"Walk any slower and you'll truly be testing my patience."

On any other occasion you could have brushed it off. Ignored it as simply as the other comments he's made at you before, but your ability to control your temper has become poor as of late. Turned brittle and weak by the changes in your body. It's made your tongue loose and sharp, and without thinking you had snapped:

"My apologies for my current state, my lord, but this is just as much your doing as it is mine. So unless you intent to assist me, I suggest keeping your comments to yourself."

As soon as you blurted it out and registered the sound of your own voice, you fully expected to have you head struck clean from your shoulders. You always imagined that the last thing you ever see would be the carmine flash of his eyes before your vision went dark.

His eyes are indeed on you. Still observing you from over his shoulder. They narrow, thinning down into a familiar scowl, and you're certain that this is the end of line for you. It's fallen silent. The world drawn to a hush as you count down the seconds till your death. It's involuntary when your hands drift down to cover your stomach, fingernails clinging at the silk as though it might possibly protect your child.

But the killing blow never comes.

"You're a testy thing today. I'll ignore it - just this once." The rumble of his voice is the only warning you get before he's shifting on his feet to face you. A pair of hands fasten around your hips, a single strong arm slipping around to support your spine as you're suddenly lifted from the ground to be held to his chest. It happens so suddenly that it nearly disorients you. A complaint rises up from your chest, but as soon as you register the relief that melts over your feet at the absence of carrying your weight, it has you falling silent. Settling to sit complacent, and at ease in his hold.

❃ He's come to tolerate your defiance. No doubt pardoning you because of the heir you carry. But there were many instances where he would not relent, no matter how stubbornly you tried to remain in your opinions. Namely in regard to the denial of indulging in a very particular craving.

Initially you had thought nothing of it when Masami had tripped. Somehow stumbling on her skirts and collapsing down onto her knees in a nasty fall. You had rushed to her as quickly as you could, some of the other girls following in suit to crowd around her.

She had raised her hands then, facing them up towards her face so that she could inspect the skinned flesh there. Inflamed pink and riddled with small red abrasions that marred the heels of her palms.

Small wounds in the grand scheme of things. Something that you yourself have obtained throughout the years, but not once has the sight of it achieved such a response. You're certain that you could smell the blood beading past the parting of the skin. It wasn't a scent that you've learned to associate with blood, all pungent and iron. This was pleasant. It was rich, enticing, melting along the summer air like something buttered and warm. It made your mouth water. Suddenly your stomach was too hollow. Famished.

Your focus narrowed down, and you couldn't help but to admire how the sunlight glinted delicately along the red. Glittering faintly like flecks of gold on the seeds of a pomegranate. You wondered then, what it would taste like to run your tongue along her palm. To have the blood spread into your mouth.

It wasn't until someone said your name, loud and sharp, that snapped out of your daze. Jerking in place as though you had been stung. It wasn't until you met Masami's stare, her eyes wide and a little panicked that you realized that you had been staring. Focused intently on her wounded hands with the same hunger of a dog eyeing a slab of meat.

Sukuna had found out, of course. He had eyes and ears everywhere, shadows tucked into every corner; and no matter how quietly one might whisper in the amongst themselves, he always manages to hear.

He had shocked you honestly, when he had taken to approaching you about the topic rather than opting have Uraume slip human flesh into your meals. Still, you had refused. This was something that you could not possibly get yourself to budge on. The thought of it made you nauseous, it had your stomach turning despite the hunger pinching at your gut.

Reduced to a complete stranger in your body as the child in your womb altered it into something unrecognizable. Riddling it with twisted urges that made you want to run away from yourself. Haunting you with a hunger that would keep you awake at night, fantasizing about a craving that should make you fall ill. That should have you trembling with dread, and yet your mouth would only water at the thought.

The stare that he had leveled you with unamused. Arresting as it fixed you in place and forced you to still. As motionless as a statue as he looked down his nose at you, all four of his eyes latched onto your form in glints of searing red; a glint of fangs showing past his curled lips.

"Do not forget that it is my child you're carrying. Denying your hunger is only prolonging the inevitable. You'll cave eventually."

And he was correct. He typically dines alone, but since your pregnancy he's taken to having you accompany him for his meals. He had respected your demand that you were only served human food. Though you never missed the almost arrogant way that he would observe you as you plucked rice into your mouth. Like he was relishing in yourself induced suffering. Like he was waiting for you to break. The curiosity in his eyes always present, but like a challenge you tried you hardest not pay attention to the scent of cooked flesh permeating around the dinner table.

Try as you might it wasn't long until you had all but stolen a cut of meat from his meal, cooked rare and bleeding. And like some sort of ravenous animal, you had scoffed it down, clutching it with trembling fingers that shoved it in your mouth quicker than you could fully chew. Unable to pay your guilt, or the delighted expression on his face any mind as the famished pit in your gut finally felt something close to relief.

❃ As much as you love your child, there are times where it's already begun to display too many shared characteristics with their father. Namely the ability to disturb you and ruin your sleep. They get restless in the night; like clockwork, tossing and turning in your belly and battering the inside of your stomach with a near constant stream of kicks.

They weren't even born yet, and already they seemed to be throwing a tantrum. Pitching a fit as though they were demanding to be released.

It would force you awake, keeping your eyes wide open while sleep stung at them, weighing them down with the temptation to slip closed. But as soon as you would begin to nod off, it's as though the baby in your womb knew, and they'd make sure to punish you with a harsh nudge of their little foot. It's a wonder how something so small can deliver such a harsh strike. Enough to have you wincing; the air hissing sharply through your teeth while you glare up ceiling like you might find salvation in the shadows settled there.

"Are you determined to interrupt my sleep, woman? Why do you keep whining and huffing?"

As enticing as you usually find the sound of his voice, the sudden sound of it rumbling across the quiet is only grating. Your annoyance flaring, worn thin by the bout of kicking that's being delivered to the tender stretch of your stomach.

It had your voice cracking out with equal irritation. Unrestrained in your ire. "That's because your child won't stop kicking at me."

You can't stop yourself from turning your head over to glare at him, meeting his scowl, finding the intense red of his eyes in the dark.

"How annoying." He grumbles, face pinching into a peeved grimace. It makes you tempted to try and climb up from the bedding and leave his quarters all together. Perhaps you could take a walk around the estate until the baby settles. Sometimes if you speak to it, or hum lowly in those old lullabies your own mother had sang to you as a child, they calm down. Soothed by the sound of your voice.

It's as though Sukuna can sense your intent, and in a blur, he's gripping you by the torso to tug you up to his chest in a grip that's uncharacteristically gentle. Nestling you against his body as though you could possibly break.

He's done it before and yet it always manages to shock you into silence. To have you fall quiet and motionless lest you break whatever spell has fallen over him.

It makes you wonder if this is what it would feel like to be a rabbit drawn in to slumber with a wolf. Nestled against its fur, expecting a flash of snarling, drooling teeth, but only finding comfort and warmth instead.

"Troublesome, aren't you?"

There's the desire to retort. To give some sort of scathing remark in defense of yourself. To remind him that the child in your belly is very much his doing just as much as it is yours. Then one of his hands is slipping across the swell of your stomach, smoothing over the skin in a gesture that should be too soft for a man like him.

Using the same hands that are covered in blood from slaying thousands, sorcerers, men, women, and children, to cradle where your child rests. It clicks then that he isn't talking to you.

You dare to glance up at him, and it quickly confirms that his attentions are pinned down on your stomach. The expression on his face is tired, exasperated, but you swear that you can see something almost tender melting at the irritation there.

You wince when the baby lands another kick just beneath your belly button, directly where Sukuna's palm sits, as though they can feel the pressure of it.

"Restless, are you?" He muses, caressing his thumb along the bump. "There's plenty of time for all of that later. There will be many a sorcerer for you to torment once you're older, but for now it's time to rest. Let your mother sleep."

It's so conversational, the way he speaks to them. Talking as though they might possibly answer, and with how strange a being like Sukuna is, you truly wouldn't be surprised if he revealed to you that he could communicate with your unborn child in some manner.

You can feel the baby shifting, some part of its body brushing against your stomach as it moves. And act of defiance possibly, and you half expect to receive the sting of another kick, but it never comes.

You're practically holding your breath as you await another strike, yet there's nothing. Only calm. Only the dim sound of your steady breathing and the soothing hush that's fallen over the dark of the room.

Finally, there's peace. The warmth of Sukuna's body seeping into your back like the steam of a hot bath and just as easily it has your limbs unwinding. The weight of sleep engulfing your body, causing your eyes to fall heavy, the lure to slip shut falling over you like the comfort of a blanket.

His voice purrs out then, low and hushed, thrumming along your shoulders while he whispers a delicate command.

"Sleep."

But that time, you're certain he was speaking to you.

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Mommy Dearest (Agatha Harkness x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Parent/teacher evening isn't meant to make you want to get to know your student's mother better, but Mrs Harkness is force of nature and you're weak under the force of her flirting.

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol consumption

Tags: @sasheemo @buttercandy16 @chlondykebar @midnight-lestrange @babybeeelle @dontsblameme

You glanced up from your class list, a smile painted on your face, the fatigue you were feeling pressing against the back of your eyes. One more interview and then you were done for the night. You just had to make it through and then you could go home and curl up in bed, sleeping until well into the morning of your Saturday.

Mrs Scratch was not a parent you’d had much to do with. Nicky was, for the most part, a delight. You hadn’t had to call home or chase down a parent to share concerns. Hell, you hadn’t ever had to send the kid home sick. He was your easiest student, and as such, you’d had no reason to meet with his parents.

Unlike plenty of the other kids in your class.

So when the knock sounded on your door, your final meeting for the night, you looked up with interest. Your smile was brittle, hiding how tired you were, but still, the curiosity curled like a purring cat in your chest.

Mrs Scratch didn’t bother waiting for you to call for her to enter, strutting through your door and immediately making your mouth grow dry. Shooting to your feet, your hand knocked the water bottle from your desk. The loud clatter rang in your ears and you felt your cheeks heat, eyes widening. Ducking down, you scrabbled for it, doing your best to take a deep breath in and calm your racing heart.

Popping back up, red lips were pulled into an amused smirk, blue eyes twinkling as she watched you stand up straight. You let your eyes sweep over her, that same sense of breathlessness removing all thoughts from your head. Purple dress pants highlighting long legs, a white shirt open at the collar, one hand resting in her pocket, heeled boots putting her just taller than you, it would be easy to believe Mrs Scratch was the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen.

“Hi, sorry about that. I’m a total klutz,” you said, placing the bottle back on your desk out of reach when you sat back down.

“Don’t worry about it, hon,” she said, her voice a low register that had goosebumps erupting over your skin.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Scratch,” you said, holding a hand out to her.

“Harkness,” she said as her palm slid along yours.

“Sorry?”

You were so distracted by the feeling of her warm skin against yours you weren’t sure you’d understand what she was saying.

“My surname is Harkness, not Scratch,” she said.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” you said, your cheeks heating again.

“Don’t worry about it, hon. You’re not the first,” she said with a small laugh.

Her hand squeezed yours before she let you go. What was wrong with you? You’d never been like this around one of your student’s parents. Something had to be going wrong. It couldn’t just be that she was gorgeous. Although she was. Fuck, you were still standing and she was staring at you and you knew you were meant to be doing something but staring into her face you couldn’t figure out what it was. Her lips pulled up into a smile again.

“Should we get started?” she asked.

“Yes!” You cringed at how loud your voice came out, “unless we’re waiting for… Nicky’s other parent?”

Your eyes darted down to see if she had a wedding ring. Her left hand was still in her pocket, giving you no indication. Not that it should matter. She was a parent, not a woman you were trying to pick up at a bar.

“No, no one else. I’m afraid it’s just me and Nicky,” she laughed.

“Oh, great.” You cringed again, “uh… have a seat.”

You fell into your own seat as she much more gracefully lowered into hers. You stared across at her, cataloguing her features, wondering what she’d look like in the morning sunlight. Shaking your head, you looked down at your notes.

“Right, Nicky…” You tried to gather your thoughts, “he’s a great kid. Super engaged, always willing to help other students, doesn’t cause me any trouble. He’s a delight to have in class.”

“Oh god,” she laughed, “if I have to read that one more time on his report cards I’m going to have to wonder if he’s mine at all.”

“You weren’t?” you asked, but just from the tilt of her lips you knew she was nothing but trouble.

“I spent more time in detention than in class,” she said, those blue eyes twinkling.

“Naughty girl,” you said then immediately choked on your own spit.

Your eyes widened and your cheeks were hot enough to fry and egg on. Her lips pulled up into a smirk and she lent back in her seat.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, “that was so inappropriate. It’s been a long day but that’s no excuse.”

“Don’t worry about it, hon,” she said, but her eyes were trailing over you in a way that had you shivering.

“Look, I have no concerns about Nicky. He’s tracking well and seems happy so unless you have any questions…” you trailed off with a small shrug, “you should be very proud of him.”

“Oh I am.” Her grin turned from something that had your skin aflame to one full of pride, “he’s the greatest thing I’ve done with my life.”

“It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Harkness,” you said, raising from your chair.

She grasped your hand again, her skin still so warm against yours. Her touch lingered, those eyes burning where they landed on you. Your lips parted and for the first time in a long time you felt out of control.

And then her hand was back at her side and she was sweeping out of the room. Standing behind your desk, you stared after her, long after the doorway emptied. You shook your head, sinking back into your chair.

Mrs Harkness was a tornado that could so easily tear your life apart.

Saturday night a couple of weeks later found you sitting at a bar, nursing a cocktail, doing your best to push the enigmatic woman from your mind. You’d been thinking about her too much since that parent teacher interview. She came to you in dreams, leaving you wanting, gasping, a throbbing between your legs.

You’d begun hanging around in the morning and afternoon, hoping to see her when she picked up Nicky. All you wanted was a glimpse, hoping that your memory was overblowing her beauty. You’d been tired, exhausted, it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that you’d been in an altered mental state and she wasn’t as captivating as you’d found her. If you could just see her, you might be able to stop thinking about her so much. You just needed the proof to put your obsession to rest.

Or, perhaps, what you needed was to find someone else. Hence why you were at the bar, alone, on a Saturday night when you could have been at home doing anything else more enjoyable than putting yourself out there. It was not going well if your single nursed cocktail was anything to go by.

A warm shoulder brushed against yours as someone settled into the stool beside yours. You didn’t bother sparing them a glance. Staring at the bottom of your glass, having had no success, you were in the middle of considering going home. You hadn’t so much as approached a woman, each one compared to Mrs Harkness and each one found wanting.

Yeah, you were so fucked.

Sighing, you pushed the glass away from you, half drunk and not worth your time. You’d get more from going home and indulging in your fantasies than sitting here, dejected and alone.

“I’m concerned about ordering a drink if the way you’re looking at yours is anything to go by. It looks like it’s personally offended you.”

You stiffened. That voice, so familiar, couldn’t have followed you to this bar. There was no chance that of all the bars you could visit, she would happened to stumble in to the very one you’d chosen. Turning your head, you felt your heart skip a beat.

Mrs Harkness had found you.

“Oh, uh.” You felt yourself begin to slip off your stool, “no, it’s fine.”

Righting yourself, you reached out to the glass again, taking a drink from it just to prove it. Lips pulled up into a smirk as blue eyes darkened, focusing on your mouth. You shivered, inhaling sharply. Your cocktail burned as it went down the wrong way and you coughed, not able to stop yourself, tears blurring your vision.

A warm hand landed on your back, rubbing a soothing circle into your back. Pressing a hand to your face, mortified, you tried to take a few deep breaths. It was typical that the first time you saw the object of your desires you ended up choking on your drink. Something about her turned your brain to mush and you stopped being able to function like a person.

“Deep breath, hon,” she murmured, close to you to be heard over the sound of the bar, “there you go.”

“Sorry,” you gasped.

“No need to apologise to me. It’s not my drink you’re giving such a shocking review,” she said, an undercurrent of laughter in her voice.

You brushed the tears away, the mortification of the moment making you wonder if you could make the ground swallow you up with just a thought. Her hand was still between your shoulder blades, resting against your bare skin exposed by the cute top you’d thrown on in the hopes of snagging someone’s attention. You found yourself leaning into her touch, not able to stop yourself.

“It’s not as bad as I’m making it seem,” you managed to say.

“That’s a relief,” she said, “although you’ve been nursing it for a while.”

“I have?”

She hummed, drawing closer to you. You froze, surrounded by her. Long fingers plucked the glass from your grip, swirling the liquid inside. She took a slow drink from it, maintaining eye contact with you. Your lips parted, mouth growing dry, watching her with such a strong sense of yearning you felt like someone had grasped your heart and given it a sharp tug.

“So is this where I can expect to find my son’s teacher every Saturday night?” she asked, placing the glass down.

You shook your head, still not able to form words. Not when her palm was burning into your skin and her perfume was invading your nose. She was everywhere, overwhelming you so easily you weren’t sure she was even aware she was doing it. Her lips pulled up into a smirk.

“Just looking for a place to drink?” she asked.

“I guess,” you said, voice small.

“Or were you hoping to meet someone?”

She raised her eyebrow and your skin heated. You wondered if it was possible to die from embarrassment, on the brink of it already. Her fingertips trailed over your spine until her hand was on the small of your back before sliding around your waist.

“The question is, were you looking for a single night of abandon or something longer term?” she asked, her voice husky, making you shiver. There was no way she wouldn’t notice with how close she was.

“I…” You didn’t have words for this exact scenario.

“You…?” she prompted.

Oh god, she was so close. You could see all the colours in her eyes. You could feel her breath against your skin. You could kiss her if you only lent forward a few inches.

“Tell me,” she hummed, “what are the ethical implications of seeing one of your students’ parents?”

Your breath stuttered in your chest. That was not something you thought she would be asking you. It was meant to be a one sided feeling, your going crazy over a parent, not reciprocated and getting your heart racing and your hope building. You found yourself leaning towards her.

“I suppose as long as it doesn’t affect the student… it shouldn’t matter,” you said.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” she said.

“You were?” There was that hope again.

“I must admit I left our meeting feeling rather enamoured with you. When I saw you sitting here alone, it felt like divine intervention,” she said.

“Oh,” was all you managed to come up with.

“Of course, if you’re uninterested…”

She moved back from you.

“No.” Your hand landed on hers, holding her in place.

Blue eyes turned to you and the twinkle was unmistakable. She knew what she was doing, and she was doing it well.

“I am,” you said, “interested, that is.”

She considered you a moment, gaze sweeping over you. Trembling, you let her look, almost displaying yourself for her. When the blue of her eyes darkened, a rush of heat went through you. Her eyes lingered on the cleavage you had on display. Your back arched, offering yourself to her. The low chuckle she gave only made your fingers tighten on her hand.

“Shall we find somewhere more private?” she asked, voice low and dangerous, making promises of what was to come.

“Yes,” you said, already standing.

Her hand on the small of your back guided you through the crowd, directing you to the exit. You went easily, willing to follow her anywhere if it meant you could taste her. You wanted to feel her skin against yours, to know what her weight in your lap felt like, to hear the noises she would make when you were knuckles deep in her. You’d been thinking about it so much since your meeting with her, exactly what it would be like to have her.

Her hand slid to your hip as the cold air nipped at your skin. Without the crowd you could take a deep breath in, focused on the way her warmth bled through to you. Following her around the corner, the hand on your hip guided you until your back was pressed to the rough bricks of the building. She stepped into your personal space, her other hand resting beside your waist, caging you in.

“You’ve been driving me crazy for weeks now,” she murmured, lips brushing over the skin of your jaw as she lent forward, breath ghosting over your skin, “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.”

“You haven’t?” you asked in a whisper, itching to touch her.

“Is that really so surprising, hon? When everything about you makes me want to sink my teeth into you?” she asked, a low growl against your ear.

“Then go ahead and do it.”

You grasped her face, dragging her into a searing kiss. Your fingers buried themselves in the hair at the nape of her neck as her tongue licked along your lower lip. You whimpered, pressing closer to her, kissing her deeper. Her teeth sunk in, doing what she’d threatened, making you moan, muffled in her mouth.

With the hand on your hip, she pinned you against the wall, growling when you dragged her closer. Your fingers in her hair were tugging, wanting her pressed against you, wanting no amount of space between the two of you, wanting her skin against yours. She tasted like whiskey, turning your heady hazy.

When you’d spent all those hours fantasising about her, it had never been like this. This was intense, burning through you, leaving you desperate and gasping, wanting more, needing her in ways you’d never felt before. No one had made you feel so out of control. You certainly hadn’t expected to like that feeling so much.

No one had made you want to submit to them so quickly.

You gasped as her lips travelled down your throat, head tipping back against the brick wall. Her tongue on you skin was turning you dizzy.

“Mrs Harkness,” you gasped.

“Agatha,” she murmured into your skin.

“What?” Your fingers tightened in her hair.

“My name. I think we’re a bit past such formalities,” she replied before her teeth sunk into your skin.

The noise you made was embarrassing, needy and desperate and whining. But the noise she made had you pressing your thighs together, the deep throbbing stealing your breath. Your fingers scrabbled against her back, trying to pull her closer, not sure that was possible, but needing her so much you thought you’d combust if you didn’t have her.

Her lips landed back on yours, muffling your mewling. One of her legs slipped between yours. You were gasping into her mouth, hips pressing down against her thigh, seeking out the friction you so desperately wanted.

A loud ringing startled you. She nipped at your lower lip before drawing away. Her hand went to the back pocket of her jeans, pulling out her phone, a look of concern flashing over her face.

“Kate, what’s wrong?” she asked the moment she accepted the call.

She listened for a moment before she sighed, eyes closing for a moment.

“I’ll be right there,” she said, “tell him I’ll be home soon.”

She hung up with a deep sigh before turning to look at you. You weren’t sure what she saw, but she reached out, thumb running along your lower lip, eyes darkening once again.

“I’m so sorry, hon, but that was my baby sitter. Nicky is sick and wants me to come home,” she said.

“Of course you’ve got to go,” you said, not even thinking about it. Her son needed her.

“I should have known you’d understand,” she said, voice soft, almost fond, “can I take you out some time? Somewhere nicer than this alley?”

“Yes,” you said, so fast there was no playing it cool.

She chuckled, leaning forward to press a lingering kiss to your lips.

“I’ll call you,” she said.

You fell back against the wall, watching her walk away from you. Those jeans were doing good work, and even with the cold water of her sick son, you wanted to get your hands on her ass in them. She glanced over her shoulder, finding you still watching. The wink she shot in your direction had your heart skipping a beat.

Agatha Harkness was definitely going to tear your life apart and you were going to enjoy every second of it.

[goldsbitch]

Open your eyes

Everyone is self-conscious about their body sometimes. For Y/N's it's always been her small boobs, living in the belief that this would make her unattractive. Can her best friend help out?

warning: light smut, nipple play, blindfold

this one is for the flat chested girlies out there

If only teenagers knew how all of their peers are just as insecure as they are. Might have saved a lot of trouble, sleepless nights and maybe even stop everyone from overthinking and living more of a "just finally kiss me" life.

//

It was a sunny summer afternoon, as per usual, these two late teens, would spend it in a room with all windows covered up, eyes glued to the screen and hands gripping gaming consoles. They grew up as close friends, in fact he was the only one she ever potentially felt comfortable enough to admit her insecurities.

"Still don't get it why you said no," he noted, once again, to the situation where one of his racing friends asked for her number and she declined without providing a reason.

She ignored him the first time he'd address it, hoping he'd just let it go. It was frustrating how much invested he was in that. With a big sigh, she replied the same as she did before. "We are just not the right fit."

Lando, a teenage guy with a massive crush he had yet to decipher, was not satisfied with that answer.

"Don't get it," he said nonchalantly as he blew her head off in the game they were playing.

"Fine!" she responded and nearly threw away her console. She locked eyes with him, still not sure if she wanted to share her deepest insecurity.

He knew her, in the light reflected from her screen he could see on her face that the mood in the room has changed drastically. No more casual fun and games.

"Spill it," he dared, perhaps realizing for the first time why he craved her presence so much. "Was this it?"

She took a deep breath, trying to somehow ignore Lando's intense stare. She would always closed her eyes when something "scary" was in front of her. With her eyes shut, she finally spoke. "It's, um...You know," she said, vaguely pointing around her chest. Poor Lando was so caught of guard he forgot to breathe for a moment. "What?" he said, confused as ever.

Another annoyed sigh. "Don't make me say it, Norris."

"Well, you're really bad at pantomima thing, so I'm afraid you'll have to," he said, keen on not letting this go, his mind trying to ignore his inner disappointment.

"Fine. But promise we will never address this again."

"Promise."

"He just, he seems like the kind of guy who would want a more developed girl..?" she said, still not sure how to communicate it.

"As in all the braincells? I see your point now," he couldn't help himself from teasing her. Ever.

"Dickhead. My boobs," he almost bursted, once again gesturing to her chest. "They are so small. Why would someone like him find that attractive?"

Now, he was truly taken of guard, no idea how to respond, because he could hardly understand. It made the wheels in his head spin. Only at that moment realizing he'd do anything to see her small boobs one day. Y/N mistook his surprised silence as a confirmation of her own insecurities.

//

Once his brain processed the newly found information, Lando understood, as best as he could, where Y/N's insecurity regarding her boobs came from. While he'd never admit it, he often wondered whether he himself was "developed" enough. He had always been smaller than guys his age, something that is hard to hide. Same with breasts, unless you really wanna fake it, you can just tell from the outside.

Ever since that summer afternoon, he started to notice things he did not before. How could he not hear the subtle comments she made so often?

He was hanging out in her room, the last evening before he parted to several races. They were suppose to meet some friends later, so he stopped by, expecting her to be ready, while she was busy trying on a seventh top and still not liking it.

"This one has just too low of a v-neck," she whispered, perhaps more to herself, but ultimately, he did hear her. It's been weeks since the first and last time they spoke about it, Lando managed to pass many comments she made about herself.

But, fuck it this time. It was bothering him endlessly that she was insecure like that.

"That's it, Y/N. You know that the size of the boobs does not matter, right? Guys don't care about that," he stood behind her, locking eyes with her through the mirror she was standing in front of.

She froze, staying silent.

He continued. "Tell me, did a guy ever complain when you slept together?" They would usually share stories of their "achievements" in the past, so he was aware that she was sexually active. It was just that recently, that thought became sort of uncomfortable. Other guys touching her.

She snapped back. "Well, they never complained, but the also never even looked at them, so how could they know!"

"What does that mean?" he asked, once again confused.

She wished her mouth would wait for her brain to approve sometimes. Especially with Lando. There goes nothing. "'I've always kept a shirt on."

Baffled Lando wondered how could those other guys allow it. "So you've never shown your tits to a guy?" he said, almost astonished.

"No...It's not my asset and I know it. My, um...my ass is pretty good?" she defended and he had to try so hard not to picture her, on all knees, spine bending and her ass perked up towards him.

He swallowed, barely believing the words he was about to hear coming from his mouth. "Then show them to me."

Her eyes went wide. "Lando!" They had a close friendship, but not the kind where walk around naked in front of each other.

He held his arms up in defense. "No, I mean...hey, you know me. You have to show them to a guy one day anyway. And I promise I'll tell you the truth. No bullshit." He knew he crossed a line. Which was why he almost did not believe her next word.

"Ok."

To be fair, it did make some sense. If you really look for it. But while he was crushing on her without realizing, she had been crushing on him for months, fully aware of it. There was a tingling in her stomach when he made this suggestion. Unfamiliar, exciting tension. As if she wanted him to stare at her tits, no matter how insecure she felt about them.

"But I can't watch you," she added, turning around to face him. "I'd be too embarassed."

"So close your eyes?" he noted the obvious.

"No, you gotta tie my eyes," she said, making his cock twitch in his pants.

//

It was hard for Lando to wrap around his head what exactly was happening. As he was tieing up a band around Y/N eyes, she accidentally touched his hands when she was checking it.

"It is too tight?" he asked softly, waiting for her to deny it.

"All good."

He stepped away and turned her around so that she would stand face-to-face with him.

"Um, whenever you're ready, I guess," he announced. Part of him could not believe what was happening, another part of his was scared she's back out and another was terrified of himself. And how much he craved to see her.

She took a deep breath and tried to block all her thoughts. And boy, were there many. The strangest one was the excitement.

With one swift move she took her shirt off. Lando's pupils were wide and he probably didn't blink for minutes now. She bit her lower lip and turned around to face him. He had seen her in a bikini before, why was this so much better. She put her hands back and finally took her bra off.

He should have never suggested it. He knew he'd not forget the sight of her small, perky boobs with perfect nipples anytime soon. It was better when he did not know. He stared in silence, while she stood there, blindfolded, nervously rubbing her fingers.

"Gosh, say something, please," she pleaded impatiently.

"Um...No, um," he said, getting his voice stuck for a moment.

"Oh shit, it's bad, right?" she asked, while her heart sank in.

"No!," he immediately reacted, somewhat coming back to Earth. "They are...nice," he said, trying to downplay his own excitement. "Small, but nice. Firm...I guess."

She sighed. "Ok..."

He shifted himself, gaining more presence again. He was aware that what he said would affect her deeply, so his plan was to fix his initial reaction, not to make her wonder. "Seriously. If a girl I was on a date with had your boobs, I'd be more than happy. Trust me."

She relaxed a bit and instinctively went to somewhat cover herself up again with her hands. "That's good to know. Thank you."

He wanted more. To see more. His hormones acted before he did, shooting the boldest test of their friendship.

"There is one thing my sister mentioned few times..." he said before he managed to stop himself. "Apparently...if you massage them, it helps the blood flow and helps them grow," he stated, almost ashamed of himself for making things up like that. It was wrong. He should have just tell her upfront just how much he wants ti touch her.

She knew well enough that was some bullshit. But it was a chance. To know what if feels like when a guy like Lando touches you.

"Um, this might sound weird, but, um, can you show me?" she asked, blinfold giving her the courage she normally lacked.

He could not believe he had standing in front of him, bare-chested, blindfolded and oh so innocent. This sight was awakening parts of him he did not know existed. At that point, he was hard as a rock.

"Yeah, I guess I could do that. But, you should probably lie down," he suggested and took her hand in his, leading her slowly to her bed. She could already feel the fire of his touch when he touched her shoulder. Lando shamelessly watched her nipples harden once he did. The blindfold was a miracle.

He laid her down on her back and popped himself up on his elbows on her left side. Now that they were on the bed, he started to feel more at ease and all of it felt less wrong. She couldn't see him, but his warmth radiated on her naked chest and his intoxicating cologne hit her nose once he put her down.

What she couldn't see was the way he smiled softly at the sights in front of him, taking his time to create as much imagery in his memory as possible. She shivered with cold.

"You should start, I'm getting cold," she said impatiently.

"Anything you want, baby" he replied absentmindedly, not noticing the way he addressed her. The word would ring in her ears for days on. Lando completely forgot what game he was suppose to play. His brain left the conversation a while ago and he was fully focused on the picture in front if him. He had lying down and waiting for his touch.

He started with her left nipple, lightly, feathery, almost non existent touch. His eyes were flashing between watching her chest rise up and down and her face. She bit her lower lip, as if she was trying to hide the way it affected her. He couldn't help but smile and lick his lips. He began tracing little figured of eight on the top of her nipple and when he was sure he got her sensitive enough, he pinched her for the first time. A soft, surprised sigh escaped her mouth. He did not have think about his actions at all, it was all so natural and easy. He pinched her nipple once again, harder this time, before he moved onto cupping her breast and giving it a squeeze, while watching her attentively. She pulled her head back a bit and he knew he had her. Afraid to speak, he continued to squeeze her and then traced her up and down, making sure not to miss her nipple anytime he did.

"The other one," she whispered so quietly he nearly missed it. But he didn't. With a smirk, he kept his hand on her left nipple, and reached over to her right breast. All of the adrenaline hitting up, he leaned over and when his mouth was almost touching her, then carefully licked her nipple. He watched her, half expecting her to freak out and send him away. To his satisfaction, she flinched in a way he never saw he before. There was something sensual, primal about the way air exited her mouth. Still blindfolded, she had no idea his eyes were glued on her face. If they weren't, he'd probably miss out on her soft "More...". He started kissing and gently biting the rest of her boobs, painting pictures with red bruises. She arched up a bit, as if her body was trying to get closer to him. First moan escaped her lips like a shy whisper. The rest that followed were unfiltered, mindless proof that she was fully in the moment. He got more and more excited, his cock hard as a rock, begging to get released. But he was afraid anything more would cause her to back off. So he continued with this actions, switching up between her nipples, breasts and sometimes roamed over to the neck. To get carried away was the easiest thing ever. As he tasted her skin, he got intoxicated. She surprised him when her hands reached out to his own body, done playing the passenger and joining on action. First she ran her fingers through his hair, pushing him more to her chest and then her soft fingers reached over to his shirt, movement suggesting to pull it off. This sort of woke him up back again. He pulled his shirt off and watched her smile when she noticed his bare chest.

"Now we're even," she commented and with no shame touched all around his muscles. A small alarm was going off in Lando's head. He was enjoying this a little too much. The realization that the line that got crossed was out of sight at that point hit him. So he chose to try and get even further. He leaned over to her face and licked the line of neck, stopping right at her ears. Then he bit her earlobe before wetting it with his tongue and blowing lightly on it. The shivers again. He could watch that all day. She melted into his embrace, arching towards him once again. Lando placed slow kisses on her cheek, one by one, until he got so close to her lips he could feel her breath mixing with his own. He hovered, prolonging this moment, the last seconds before it inevitably all fell down. Her chest was rising up and down rapidly. "Do it," she whispered, their lips almost touching accidentally. He waited for few moments, biting his own lip while wishing it was hers. "Not like this," he said, catching her off guard. Before she had a chance to respond, he reached over to her blindfold and removed it. Their eyes met for what felt like the first time. He saw high, excitement and a hint of fear, as she adjusted to the light and to the sight of him being so close. Reality check.

"Can I kiss you now?" he pleaded softly, staring at her, desperate for her answer.

It was all very different and very much real when she could see him. She gulped before taking the leap, falling into the trap that were his incredibly blueish green eyes.

"Yes."

[whaddayadothatfor]

Ctenizidae

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’re an anomaly from another universe. You’re not dangerous though, so Miguel’s made the executive decision to keep you around until more dangerous criminals are caught and sent home first. Unless that’s not the only reason he’s decided to keep you around…

Content warnings: dub-con, voyeurism, masturbation, obsessive!Miguel

WC: ~1k

AN: Y’all this is so unedited but I wanted to write smut for this man so I did! If y’all like it I can post a second, smuttier part.

MDNI

“Here.” You drop a small plastic bin of chocolate chip cookies in front of Miguel. As a peace offering. No, really.

Miguel raises his right eyebrow in question. He doesn’t even answer you anymore. The other Spider-people go about their day in the cafeteria, having seen this scene time and time again.

Every day for the past two weeks since you were suddenly teleported to Nueva York and promptly labeled an anomaly, you’ve been practically begging Miguel to send you home. He’s declined every time.

This is pretty much how the conversation goes each time:

“Miguel, I think I should—“

“No. We have to send the most dangerous anomalies back to their universe first—“

“I’m dangerous! I’m plenty dangerous.”

“The only thing you’ve maimed, tortured, and killed in the past month is a flippin’ houseplant. You’re staying.”

You see how frustrating this man is?

So you’ve decided that maybe bribery— sorry, a peace offering— will work better. Hence, the cookies.

“Maybe if you eat something sweet you’ll stop being so bitter and stubborn all the time,” you smile tightly. “Then you’ll find it in your heart— the one that shrunk three sizes— to let me go home.”

“I appreciate the offering— though you could use some more creativity in your approach— but just know that these won’t get you home.” He pries open the container and lifts one to his mouth before moaning in delight. “These are delicious. Thank you,” he said, sucking the melted chocolate off of his thumb. His overly enthusiastic groans were clearly a tactic to piss you off, and it worked.

You simmer in anger as he smirks while chewing his cookie. You try to snatch the bin back, but he moves it out of your way.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he says, pushing up from the small table he was sitting at and leaning down to whisper near your ear. “No take-backsies.”

He flustered you, and he knew it. He laughed as he walked away. You stuttered a retort in embarrassment, but he didn’t even have the decency to turn around.

“Ugh, I hate that guy,” you stomped in anger. You muttered several curses before you turned around to leave, only to see several wide-eyed Spideys staring at you in concern. This is why you wait until after you’re alone to throw a tantrum— it scares the locals. Whoops. “Uhh, carry on. My bad. Enjoy your lunch!”

You quickly walk away, feeling defeated. But it doesn’t matter, you’ve got nothing but time. You’ll catch him when he’s sleeping. He’s gotta be more amenable then.

Later

“You know, just for the record, I think you going to his room this late at night is a terrible idea,” Lyla warned as she flitted between standing and reclining with her arms crossed behind her neck.

“Well I think him keeping me here is a terrible idea. I guess we’re all full of them.”

“Seriously—“

“Lyla I don’t care! I’ve got a family to get back to. Friends, a life. I don’t care how fine that man is, I’m going back home. Tonight, preferably.”

“Whatever, it’s your funeral.” She acquiesced before disappearing into the ether, just as you arrived at his door.

“Wait, Lyla! Open the door.” Without a response, the door opened. “Thanks, Lyla.”

You walked in to the large room to see Miguel sitting up in a chair near the center of the room.

“Miguel, you need to listen to me—“

The sight that met you was so shocking you had to take it in one part at a time.

First, You see Miguel’s side profile as he faces the wall to the left of you. He’s breathing heavy, chest heaving as his hand vigorously moves up and down his— oh. Maybe you came at the wrong time.

With the sudden awkwardness that’s overtaken you, you look somewhere else, anywhere else, only to find the source of what he’s staring at— a video, no, porn. The second piece of the puzzle, you take in the video’s content. First, you just see flashes of skin and hear soft grunts and moans emanating from the screen. But then you realize, the voices sound familiar, really familiar. Then it hits you.

It is you.

And him. The both of you together. And that realization connects all the pieces of the puzzle together. He’s keeping you here, on purpose.

Your eyes dart back to Miguel, who has now abandoned his video in favor of the live view he has right in front of him. He’s shirtless but he still has some grey sweats on, pushed down just enough that he can jerk off. His hands move desperately over his cock, aborted grunts and breathy moans coming out sporadically.

He turned his head to the side, his cheeks flushed and his eyes narrowed with desire. You were frozen, stuck in time. Miguel kept stroking his cock while staring into your eyes. He did this right up until his orgasm overtook him, throwing his head back and jerking his hips upward as he called out your name.

His cum spurted out in waves, once, twice, three times. It was thick and opaque and made a mess all over his lower stomach. He sighed and sank back into his chair.

“Did you enjoy the show?” His voice is low and heady as he calls out to you. It takes you a moment to respond, because admittedly you’re still staring at his— well, his everything, dick included. Still It was a very, very nice, thick, veiny d—“Am I interrupting?”

His teasing knocks you out of your reverie.

“I-I should go.” You said. You’re starting to realize that Lyla might have been right. Maybe you should’ve waited until the morning. You start backing up to leave but Miguel shakes his head and the door shuts behind him.

“No, no, no. See, that’s your problem. You’re always trying to leave,” he chastises.

He stalks towards you, like you’re prey. You move backwards until your back hits the door. He reaches over you, placing an arm over your head and his index finger under your chin, lifting it upwards. He bends down, close enough that you can see even minute details of his face.

He narrows his eyes as he bares his fangs.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LNDS: Hospital Trip | Fluff

Listen...this was supposed to be a crack fic. Apparently when I write long form fics I can't help but take it seriously. So this is romantic comedy now. It's fluff. I'm not a Zayne girlie but damn do I adore him...I might be a Zayne girlie. And a Rafayel girlie. And a Xavier girlie...I'm a whore.

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+. Warnings: Crack treated seriously, But also is this really crack anymore?, Romance mixed with comedy, flirting, Blood, Leg injuries, stitches, shots (the not fun kind) Synopsis: You had been enjoying your day when a small incident led you to the hospital. Thankfully your beloved boyfriend is taking care of you, but he does demand an explanation at to how you got injured...something you'd rather he not know. Word Count: 4,159

Blog Information | Masterlist

Zayne

Hospital Trip | Zayne x Reader

You let out an unamused huff as you leaned against the back of the hospital bed, looking off in the distance. Your leg was on fire at the moment and you weren’t exactly happy to be in the hospital. Thankfully Yvonne had been sweet enough to allow you to see Dr. Zayne about your injury (even though she insisted that Dr. Greyson was available immediately and Zayne was finishing up a surgery, you didn’t care.)

You perked up as you heard the door open, smiling the moment you saw Zayne. You weren’t even sure if he was aware that you’d be his patient as Yvonne didn’t bother getting you checked in. He looks up from the paperwork in his hands, seeing that you were sitting on his examination table with a dopey grin.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” He said, his voice soft as he adjusted his glasses. He clearly hadn’t noticed that something was amiss as you shifted on the table.

“Well, you see…” You said, shifting more to show the inner part of your thigh. The thigh that happened to be getting blood on his examination table. The way you were sitting had helped it not pool too much, and the nurse that helped you in the room did place a small tourniquet around your leg (although in all honesty it wasn’t that bad).

Zayne paused at seeing the injury, looking at you and then back at your bloody thigh. His lips pressed together as he nodded in disappointment, realizing that you had probably given some nurses hell as they tried helping you and you refused. The hospital was used to your antics, especially when it came to your doctor. Unless you were dying, you insisted on seeing Zayne for everything.

He approached you, placing a hand over a section that didn’t have blood on it. You were grateful to be wearing shorts today so you didn’t have to take off your pants for this…although the thought of waiting for Zayne in his office in only your underwear was an amusing thought. An idea for another day.

The feel of his cold hand had you instinctually opening your legs up more for the man. He looked back up at your face and you couldn’t help but wiggle your eyebrows suggestively at him.

“Is there a reason this hasn’t been treated yet? How long have you been here?” He asked, finally taking his hand away from you.

“Um, maybe ten minutes? I told them it wasn’t that bad and I’d wait for you.” You told him and he shot you a look. He sighed, going over to see that the nurses had already gotten him a tray of items he’d be needing.

You wouldn’t lie, you had gotten nervous when you saw the nurse wheeling the tray in and seeing it had items for stitches. You really didn’t think your injury was that bad. Granted you couldn’t feel your leg at the moment, but that's besides the point.

“If your leg is in this condition, you should’ve allowed another doctor to tend to it.” Zayne scolded, walking over to the sink and washing his hands.

You hummed before smirking, “Well I figured you wouldn’t like having one of your coworkers between my thighs, since you are the jealous type.” You teased him. Zayne shot you a small glare, but you knew he wouldn’t stay mad for long.

“Leave the suggestive comments please. There is nothing sexual about a doctor tending to their patients.” He said, pausing and letting out another long sigh. You wondered what was causing him so much grief since you saw a flash of something in his eyes as he remembered something, “I need you to take your shorts off.”

You barked out a laugh, “Nothing sexual my ass.” you said, going to unbutton your shorts, “I’m surprised you’re letting me take them off, you’re always so eager to be the one doing it back home.” 

“I said to leave the comments.” He said, placing gloves onto his hands as he approached you on the table.

“I can’t help it when you’re this easy to tease.” You winked before looking at the supplies he had been given, “So you gonna numb me up before you sew thread into my thigh?”

“I don’t know, should I be numbing you? If you have the energy to flirt, the pain must not be that bad.” He said, watching as you shucked your shorts off and placed them next to you on the bed. “Now might I be enlightened as to how this happened in the first place? If I’m not mistaken, today was your day off.”

You made a small, pained noise in the back of your throat as you thought back to what you had done. Nope. Absolutely not. He didn’t really need to know what had happened, did he?

“I tripped.” You lied, knowing he wouldn’t buy it for even a second. You’d rather tell him an obvious lie then do too good of a job and have him believe you. He always ends up finding the truth eventually, and when he finds out you actually lied to him, he always gets upset and distant. So you never did it to him. You’d give him the world’s fakest lie so he could tell right away.

“I’m not asking out of curiosity. I need to know if you might’ve gotten something in your wound. I need to know as your doctor.” A shiver went down your spine at the statement. There was always a difference between your sweet, caring boyfriend Zayne, and Akso’s Chief of Surgery, Doctor Zayne Li. You, of course, adored both sides, but seeing him switch to being Doctor Zayne was always hot.

“Fine, then I assume if you’re asking as my Doctor, then you won’t be judging me when I tell you?” You said, shifting in your spot. You really didn’t want to tell him. He was the best boyfriend ever but god damn could he give your sass back ten fold.

“Sadly doctor’s are entitled to judge whomever they please, we’re just not allowed to voice it to our patients or coworkers.” He said and you huffed. 

“You’re judging me right now, aren’t you?” You finally murmured.

“Always quick to catch on.” He had the audacity to smirk as he grabbed the shot that you assumed had the lidocaine in it and waved it in place to tease you.

“Asshole…” You said under your breath. He looked at you with his eyebrow raised.

“What was that, you don’t want to be numbed?” He asked and a small, pathetic whine came from you.

“I mean my beloved boyfriend who is so kind, caring, and compassionate. The boyfriend who will do anything to keep me out of harm's way and fixes me up when I have booboos in the nicest way possible.” You said, pressing your hands together and smiling at him.

He looked like he wanted to roll his eyes at your praise and you finally relaxed a bit, “I’m still waiting to find out what happened.” He reminded you.

"Okay, where to begin…” You said, tapping your lower lip, “Well I woke up a bit later than usual since I didn’t have work today. I went to the kitchen to get some breakfast and was going through the freezer when I noticed we didn’t have any ice cream left!” You began and Zayne gave you an unamused look.

At this point, Zayne was grabbing the alcohol wipes to begin cleaning off the blood so he could see the actual damage, “I don’t need a play by play of your day, darling, I need to know how you injured yourself.”

You chuckled at the pet name and Zayne smiled ever so slightly at the happy wiggle you did on the table, “Okay, but it’s all super important information.” You chided with a small waggle of your finger, “So I decided the best course of action would be to run down to the store and go buy some in case we wanted some ice cream tonight. So I got dressed and walked down to the corner store.”

“Did you actually manage to get any?” He asked and your smile fell.

“Well…of course I did. At first. I got the ice cream and it was all bagged up. I left the store after thanking this sweet new cashier, her name is Tamara by the way.” You said with a wave of your hand, “Then out of nowhere I heard this sweet little chirping and saw a baby bird was on the ground. Clearly he had fallen, but thankfully it had been in a bed of soft flowers.” You explained.

You watched as Zayne paused, thinking about what you said and shook his head, “Sit correctly please, I need to clean your wound.” He said, pushing your legs to a better position.

“Okay so clearly you know the corner store I’m talking about, ya? The one right by your apartment?” You asked.

“Our apartment? Yes, I recall. It’s the one that always has a sign outside with those drawings to draw people in on the newest products.” He said and you paused before giggling again at him calling it our apartment. You'd never get tired of that since you had only been living together for a short while.

“Then you know how there’s some construction going on right next to it. There’s that metal fence they put up to keep people out and there’s a tree right on the other side.” You said and Zayne nodded, “Well the nest was in that tree.”

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be in an easier to reach location?” He sarcastically murmured to himself. It was just loud enough for you to pick up, and you went to kick him before freezing at realizing it was your bad leg. The same leg that earlier you couldn’t feel, but when you made sharp movements apparently it was all you could feel.

“Well I couldn’t just leave the poor thing there to die, so I scooped it up and put it into my jacket pocket.” You said and Zayne made note that you didn’t seem to have a coat anymore. How curious.

You flinched away as Zayne began cleaning the wound, the alcohol burning but he held your leg in place as he continued dabbing at it. 

You cleared your throat, trying to not think about the sting, “So I managed to climb the fence without any issues thankfully. There were also no construction workers so I was all by my lonesome in my quest to put this birdie back in its nest.”

Zayne paused as he finished cleaning the wound, looking up at you from behind his glasses. You don’t know why you felt small under his gaze at the moment, especially since he was technically underneath you.

“Then I started to climb that tree to put the birdie back into its home. It wasn’t very high up in the tree thankfully, so it was easy enough to place him there.” You explained, happy about your accomplishment.

“I’m very proud that you managed to save a single chick by doing two very reckless things.” It was sarcastic as all hell, but you’d take the praise when you could get it.

“Thanks babe.” You said and he shook his head.

“This doesn’t explain how you ended up with a gash on your thigh.” He said and looked down at your legs, “Or why your legs have dirt on them…and probably future bruises forming.”

“Well, so the nest was home to an eagle! Can you believe it? It was very majestic looking as it began flying back to its babies.” You said, then you let out another hiss as he swiped a disinfectant of some kind over your wound. As if the alcohol wasn’t enough…

“Don’t mind me, continue your story.” He said and you got a sense he was almost amused now.

“Well apparently mama eagle wasn’t happy I was spending time with the babies because she swooped in to attack me. Obviously my natural reaction to an eagle coming for my throat was to flinch back. Sadly it caused me to fall from the tree and as I fell, I managed to catch my leg on a piece of the fence that was jutting out…thus ending in my giant gash and forming bruises.” You finally confessed.

You felt like an idiot, but honestly how were you supposed to know that would happen? You just wanted to save a baby chick that had fallen. Then BOOM! Eagle attack. To make matters worse you had fallen right on your ice cream and the concoction splattered all over your white jacket (alongside your blood since you used your jacket in an attempt to stop the bleeding) so you ended up just tossing them both away in shame.

You watched Zayne grab the needle that had the lidocaine in it and flicked it a few times to get the air pockets out, “And how, pray tell, did you get to the hospital? If the ambulance brought you in, you would’ve been treated in the ER right away. Since we’re having this conversation, it’s clear you didn’t make the right decision.”

“An ambulance would’ve been overkill.” You said and the look Zayne gave you said otherwise, “I just walked here. It’s only a few miles and the day was beautiful.”

Zayne could feel his eye begin to twitch at your lackadaisical response, “You walked miles with an injured leg that needed stitches. Did nobody try to stop you when they saw you trailing blood everywhere?” Oh he was a bit upset by this.

“Well people on the highway are normally like super busy and not looking at random people walking on the side of the road.” You said and Zayne seemed to be trying really hard to keep his cool at the moment. He wanted to properly scold you and tell you how stupid you had been; his worry wanting to turn to anger, but he held himself back. He didn’t want to lash out with emotions when he was trying to treat you as a patient. 

“Of course, you just casually walked on the side of a busy highway where a car might’ve hit you.” He couldn’t help but say in almost disbelief at the lack of self awareness. How he managed to fall for you was a mystery. He did absolutely adore you, but moments like this would only cause his hair to gray faster.

Zayne took the shot, carefully placing it on the edge of your gash and began injecting you with the medication. You let out a hiss of pain, the sensation being horribly uncomfortable. You held as still as you could though, wanting to tear up a bit from how bad it stung going in and watching as he moved it around wasn't helping.

“Are you making it hurt a lot because you’re mad at me?” Your voice came out in a dejected whine. Zayne had just pulled back the needle when he looked at you. He gave you a tired smile, his hand going to rub at the non-injured area of your leg.

“I apologize for the discomfort, but you should know that no matter how upset I am with you, I would never do something to cause you intentional pain like that.” He said, his hand feeling cool against your hot skin. It helped numb the pain, and as the medication slowly began working the entire area was numb to…everything.

You were surprised by how fast it worked, and even more surprised by how fast Zayne worked. He was already getting ready to stitch your leg up and you looked over at him with a cheeky grin.

“If you’re gonna sew up my leg, can you make a heart shaped design for me?” You teasingly asked.

“I’m a doctor, not a seamstress.” He said as you watched him grab the threaded needle and pressed it against your skin. As soon as it was about to go into your leg, you looked away. There was no way you’d be fine with watching him put a needle through your body.

It doesn’t take long for him to finish with the stitches, leaning back in his chair to check it over. You look down as well, a bit off put by stitches but at least it was going to heal properly.

Zayne began cleaning the wound and then grabbed the gauze, tapping your thigh to lift up as he wrapped it carefully. Once it was all wrapped up (sadly without a neat little bow like you requested) Zayne ran a finger gently over it.

“Does that feel better, darling?” he asked and you smiled, loving the nickname and nodding.

“Yes sir, feels a million times better…but I also can’t feel it at all so that might be why.”

“It’ll most likely feel sore and ache for the next few days. I’ll make sure to pick you up some painkillers from the pharmacy before we head home.” He said, going to take off his gloves and move the tray away from you.

“Thank you, doctor.” You finally said. Despite all your teasing, you really were happy he was the one treating you. You always felt the most comfortable when he was in charge of your care, after all.

Zayne looked over at you, adjusting his glasses on his nose and tilting his head, “Don’t think you’re off the hook. I haven’t forgotten what you did.” He said and you huffed.

“Now why did you have to say that?” You murmured, watching as he went over to his desk. He began typing things up on his computer, looking through some files it seemed. Once he saw what he needed, he clicked his tongue.

“We can discuss your actions when we get home.” he said, looking you over, “For now I’ll need you to wait here. I need to grab some things. It seems you’re due for a tetanus shot, and with your most recent endeavor of getting cut on a metal fence, I think now is the best time for it.”

“Wait…a shot?” You groaned, “Oh you’re mad, mad.” The accusation fell on deaf ears as he was already heading out the door. 

With another huff, you crossed your arms and looked at the clock. After only five minutes you decided you had enough and got on wobbly feet. You could barely feel your thigh still so it made it awkward, feeling almost like you were walking with a partially dead leg.

Still, you limped with purpose and eventually got to Zayne’s large desk. You didn’t care much for all the paperwork; most of it was medical jargon that went well over your head. No, you were curious about if he kept some of your gifts.

You opened up one of the drawers, smiling as you saw a sticky pad with little pears on it being the first thing in sight. You also saw a handful of pens that doubled as flowers. You felt all warm and fuzzy seeing how the items were clearly well used. 

Then you heard the door open.

You froze in place, staring at Zayne who was carrying a few items. You two made eye contact for a moment and he only sighed, shaking his head. It wasn’t like you could run away from him. You watched him close the door behind him and it clicked as it locked.

He walked over to you, placing the shot down on his surprisingly clean desk. He towered over you in that moment, making you feel small yet again. He went over, lifting you gently as he paid attention to your newly wrapped leg.

Your ass met the cool wood of his desk as he sat you on top of it, “Can’t you behave for five minutes?” He asked and you looked away to avoid eye contact.

“I wanted to see where you kept the candy…” You murmured, as it was half true. You didn’t want to admit you were checking to make sure he didn’t toss out your little gifts.

“Next drawer over.” He said and you looked over to see his hand grazing the edge of the desk, opening the drawer and grabbing the candy, “However only good patients get it. If you behave for your shot, I’ll give you a piece.”

You knew him damn well, he’d give you a mint no matter what happened. He was always a sucker for spoiling you, even when you were acting up and being a total brat.

“Alright, Dr. Zayne. I’ll be good.” You huffed, looking at the delicately wrapped mint in his hand. He placed it next to you, then went to grab his supplies. You watched patiently as he cleaned an area on your good thigh then grabbed the needle.

Once again, you can’t look at the needle as it goes into you. However, this time the feeling was so much worse. You cursed under your breath, your hands going to Zayne’s shoulders to grip onto for some stability. Thankfully Zayne didn’t falter as he finished up, taking the needle out and placing it next to you.

His gloves hand goes to rub soothing circles over the area in apology, before he grabs a plaster and places it on top where a small bead of blood was already trying to come out of.

“Are you alright?” He asked finally and you grumbled under your breath.

“Ya…” Your hands tightened on his shoulders, not wanting him to leave, but also being a bit upset at all the pain you had endured because of your antics. It wasn’t fair, why couldn’t you do stupid things without consequences?

One of Zayne’s hands cupped your chin, forcing your face up to look up at him, “You need to be more careful in the future, understood? You got off lucky with only a few stitches this time.”

A small whine comes from the back of your throat, your cheeks reddening at his proximity. Your eyes couldn’t help but glance down at his lips for a second before going back to his eyes.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Zayne as he leaned down, giving you a short and sweet kiss before parting. His lips found your cheek next, then your other, then finally your forehead. He leaned his forehead against your own as he looked at you.

“Let me finish up some of my paperwork then I’ll take you home. I don’t need you walking on this leg right now.” He said and you pouted. Who knew how long it would take for him to do all that paperwork, “I promise it won’t take long.”

“Fine…but do I get a reward when we get home for being so good?” It didn’t go unnoticed by you that Zayne was practically between your legs as he leaned over you. Your pants were still on the table across the room, and you desperately wanted him to just kiss you properly this time. You wanted to be gasping for air by the time he parted from you.

Zayne paused, noticing the current predicament before smirking. His hand left your chin, instead going to box you between his desk and body. He leaned closer, pressing his lips near your ear.

“You want to know what I’m going to do to you later?”

You shivered at his suddenly husky voice, your hands grasping onto the lapels of his lab coat. You bit your lip, feeling suddenly hot in your own skin.

“I’m going to have you lay in bed and make you drink plenty of water and rest while your leg heals.” He whispered in your ear.

You let out an annoyed groan as his body left your own, standing at full height as he went to begin cleaning. “That wasn’t sexy at all.” You complained.

“Falling from a tree and gashing your leg open is also rather…unsexy.” He said and you groaned, a small smile spreading on your lips. Touché Zayne, touché.

“Okay can we at least stop by and get ice cream on the way back, then cuddle on the couch while we watch a movie tonight? I think I deserve extra cuddles for the pain I’ve had to endure.” You said with a small pout.

“I find those terms to be rather agreeable. It’s a date.” He settled on. You giggled as he picked you up from his desk and took you back to the examination table. He placed you on a clean spot and handed you your pants.

Sometimes dating a doctor has its perks.

Sadly dating a spiteful doctor had plenty of downsides as you later learned that night. You, curled up against his chest, as he puts on a movie for you two to watch. A documentary…on eagles.

[mylifeisruined69420]

Thats some crazy story lmao id tell that to everybody that talks to me tbh also banger edit 😳 godamn that song goes hard

We were talking about Peru in class for some reason today and that just made me remember when I went there and this guy begged me to take a picture with his daughter because I was so white

[blimpintime]

a jar of wind part one

Wynnie Lara is a fairy that was saved from a jar from Amarantha's reign of terror, but is soon figuring out that her time of peace is coming to a end.

warnings: angst, azriel sucks :p and unedited

word count: 1.4k

eventual Eris x OC

“Rhys! You will never believe what I managed to do with my-” I bursted into the kitchen with a warm glow, my green dress flowing around me and headed towards where he was sitting with a cup of tea.

“Wynn, I have been up with Nyx for the past three nights and days with him teething. I would love some silence. Please.” He said with a low voice and eyes closed in annoyance. 

“Oh! Right, yes. Sorry.” I wince, I twirl my finger and use the wind to brush through the mellow sounding wind chimes I have placed around the River House. 

The tension seemed to leave his body, and I placed a sisterly kiss on the top of his head, my ginger bobbed hair layering over his black hair. In doing so I managed to remove the growing headache from him and take it on for myself.

“I didn’t ask you to do that, Wynn.” He said softly.

“I know, but that’s what family is for Rhys.” I respond with a light touch on his shoulder and whisper words of encouragement as I leave. 

As I walked out of the River House where the sun is setting, I ran into Azriel and Cassian. I smile and my subtle pink glow brightens.

“Hello you two!” I say with a wave and notice the grimm look on their body language and my face falls and my glow dims. “What happened, who's hurt?” 

Cassian winces and Azriel gives me a sharp look, “Stay out of it Wynn. You do enough damage as is.” 

I flinch back and the wind around me goes cold, “What is that supposed to mean?” 

He walks closer to me and leans over to get in my face, “It means that whatever magical experiment you tried this time back fired and hurt Elain.”

“What are you talking about?” I whisper back. My mind reels trying to remember if I left a magic trial unattended in the open, but I draw a blank. Unless… 

“She snuck into my cottage?” I question brows furrowing. There was only one trial I left at my house and that was my attempt of getting my wind to play instruments on its own, but wind is finicky and if interrupted incorrectly can cause a spiral of sharp and messy wind.

“Snuck? Wynn, you let everyone into your home all the time, there was no reason to lock your doors.” Cassian responded. I go hot with anger. 

“So just because I host all the time means my house is fair game? There are wards around it for a reason when I am not home. If that is your logic here then allow me to go into your guys home whenever I feel and do what I please.” I snap back.

“You’re being unreasonable Wynn.” Azriel says while rolling his eyes. “It was just Elain. She is harmless.” 

“I do not care who it was Azriel, it is my home. What did she need from me anyway? I just saw her this morning.” I ask him and he storms by me to go inside the house. Cassian and I follow him.

“Rhysand!” Azriel yells. Rhys walks out of the kitchen looking a little better than he did before. 

“Why are we yelling?” He asks.

“Wynn has caused more damage to this court.” Azriel says and I wince back. Rhys turns to look at me with an eyebrow raised. 

I raise my hands in defense.

“Wynn, was it another silly experiment?” Rhys asks. My heart tugs and I nod, and I feel as though I should defend myself. They’re not silly, they are fun.

“Did I do something to personally offend you Azriel?” I ask softly. 

“Yes! Since you’ve shown up to this court all you have done have been attached to the hip with Feyre, surprised she hasn’t told you that you are suffocating. You’re nothing more than an annoying weed.” He spat, “You buzz in and out loudly all the time, you cannot read a room to save your life, your experiments are juvenile and lack actual use, and whenever you shrink down to your pixie form is the only time you're tolerable because we can barely hear you.” He said like a weight has been lifted off his chest. 

I can only stare at him, shock and hurt cover my face. The glow of pink on my body fades down to a low humming blue, and suddenly I am back in that damn jar. 

The jar I am in is hot and stuffy. I do not remember how I got here but I do understand that this is cursed glass and I won’t be able to be let out unless the lid is opened by the one who placed the curse or is killed. 

The jar sits in the middle of a long dinner table as decor, with being alive I always have a glow to me. When I am neutral and healthy it's normally pinkish orange, right now it’s bluish purple relating to my mood and terror. It hasn’t changed in the past decade of being here.

Being small and trapped in a jar and treated as entertainment by those who are desperate to feel power again is something I would never wish upon anybody. They like to cover the oxygen holes on the top and force me to dance or create wind art. Which is borderline impossible with the lack of airflow in here anyway.

“Tell me pretty, what other colors can you turn?”

“Az-” Cassian whispered.

“Fuck you Azriel. You know why I don’t go into that size very often and you of all people should understand why.” I spit at him, and he for just a moment looks guilty. 

“What? You all say this behind her back anyway. Now that I tell her to her face it’s a problem?” He looks at his two brothers. And they both won’t look me in the eye.

“Is that true?” I choke out with silent tears running down my face. Rhys looks at me and takes a breath, “There could have been more tact to how we said this but to put it bluntly yes.”

My wispy iridescent wings pop out of my back. And I start walking backwards towards the door, “I will see myself out then.” 

“Wynn, wait please let's discuss this more maturely.” Rhys says. Azriel scoffs in the background. 

“If it wasn’t for her, Elain wouldn’t be hurt again.” I flinch again feeling sick to my stomach. 

“I am sorry.” I choke out. Cassian reaches for me and I step back curling into myself feeling betrayed by those I called family. 

“No, that was completely uncalled for.” A new voice responds. I turn around to say Nesta and Elain. I look over Elain and all I notice is a few wind burns on her arms. She gives me a soft smile and I look down with a frown.

“Azriel, what is the actual problem here? Because I am fine. I went into her cottage because I forgot my tea recipe book there and completely forgot she was running an experiment.” Elain comes up to me softly and puts her hand on my shoulder. I lean into her warmth. Nesta stares at him with a cold hard glare. 

“He’s jealous.” She observes. Azriel looks shocked for just a moment before he stalks closer into Nesta’s face. To which signals me and Elain to step back and Cassian to intervene. 

“Enough.” Rhys says rubbing his temples again. “Azriel you were out of line with the way you approached this situation and Wynn maybe just be a little less, you.” 

All three girls flinch with the wording. 

“Have you lost your fucking mind Rhysand?” Nesta barks. “Wait until I tell Feyre.” 

By the time the two of them are arguing I shrink down to my pixie size and fly home to my cottage. I arrive at the front stoop back to normal size, and burst into tears against my front door barely making it inside before I collapse into a pile on the floor. 

In a panic I start shoving some of my emergency belongings in a satchel; clothes, my hygiene products, and my magic trials notebook. 

Frantically rushing around my small cottage I see a teacup Elain painted for me, with little orange and pink flowers all over it. I wrap it in one of my shirts and stuff it into my satchel.

By now the sun has completely set, and I take off my porch, my holographic wings sparkling in the moonlight and head towards some place I know will bring me some comfort. 

The Autumn Court. 

a/n: please enjoy! I have been thinking about this idea for a while! Leave comments, like, and share. if you have any questions plz let me know!

I do not own any of the characters that Sarah J Mass has created. but I do own miss Wynnie Lara :p

[tori111777]

FRIGHT AND FURY 4

Part 3, Part 5

Summary: Secret late night talks are being said

Warnings: Spoilers for Gladiator 2

Parings: Caracalla x wife!reader

The night was restless as you could not fall asleep. You husband had slept with you tonight, not leaving your side since the attack that had happened earlier today.

It felt nice having him next to you for once, you didn’t want to wake him up though, just watching his chest rise and fall as he breathed peacefully. You traced the lines of his face with your eyes. It was oddly peaceful, but also a reminder of how fragile everything felt in that moment.

Maybe you did start to care for him a bit, whether you would admit that to yourself or not.

“Caracalla.” You whispered his name ever so faintly that he wouldn’t wake up. His name hung in the air between you like a fragile thread. You let out a soft, almost inaudible sigh, unsure of what you were feeling—torn between the weight of the day’s events and the growing warmth that seemed to blossom in your chest whenever you thought of him.

You brushed a stray lock of hair away from his forehead, your fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. The gesture felt intimate, yet so simple, as if everything could change with just that small touch.

Just then you heard a knock on the door that made you jump. You turned to see if Caracalla had woken up but he shifted slightly in his sleep, his body instinctively leaning toward you, as if drawn to the warmth of your presence. He didn't wake.

You pulled the sheets away ever so carefully and wrapped you arms around yourself, feeling your silk dress that you always wore to bed. Your feet brushing against the cold stone floor. Your hand hovered over the door’s handle, a rush of uncertainty flooding your chest. Hesitant to open but you did so anyways, the guards outside your doors wouldn’t just let nobody here.

The door creaked as you turned the handle, the sound sharp and loud in the stillness of the night. “Lucilla.” You let out a sigh seeing her. “I came to make sure you were alright?” She asked. Her eyes, soft and searching, scanned your face. She had always been able to read you better than anyone else.

You blinked a few times, still adjusting to the dim light in the hallway, and let the door swing open a little wider. Lucilla stepped forward, her presence both comforting and unsettling in the quiet of the night.

“Would it be better if he spoke at my place?” She looked around, “a place with no ears?”

——

“He’s been with you… since the attack?” Lucilla asked quietly, her voice gentle but probing. You were now sitting in a beautiful area in a courtyard. You slipped on something more appropriate even if it was in the dead of night.

You nodded, not trusting your voice at first. “He hasn’t left my side. I think... I think I’m starting to understand why.”

“I thought so. He’s not the kind of man who stays unless he has a reason.” Lucilla husband, Marcus Acacius had said as well. Though, you were not so sure why he was there.

Lucilla’s eyes softened further, and for a brief moment, there was a flicker of something older in her gaze, something she rarely allowed to show. “Perhaps he finally sees you. Not just as someone in need of protection, but as someone worth fighting for.”

You had spent so long building walls around yourself, protecting your heart from the unpredictable nature of men like Caracalla. How could you let him in now if you threw away the key?

“Which is why we wanted to tell you something…” General Acacius said looking to Lucilla then back to you. Lucilla glanced at her husband, her expression shifting as she prepared to say something important. She wasn’t one to mince words, but even she seemed to hesitate for a moment before speaking.

“There’s a matter of trust," she began carefully. “Can we trust you?” The question hung in the air, heavy and sharp. “Trust is... hard to come by,” you said quietly, your voice a little less steady than you would’ve liked. “Not just with anyone, but especially after today.”

“I understand,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “Trust is a delicate thing, especially in times like these.” The distant hum of night insects and the occasional rustle of leaves were the only sounds, and in that moment, you realized how small and fragile you truly felt, standing between two people who knew far more about loyalty and betrayal than you ever had.

“Yes.” You said firmly, “yes, you can trust me.”

Lucilla’s hand found yours, warm and steady. The gold bracelets on her arms clanked together. “The gladiator in the arena these past days… do you know who he is?”

You shook your head slightly, “no.”

"The gladiator," she began slowly, choosing her words with care, “the gladiator is Lucius.”

You blinked in surprise, he was thought to be dead after all these years. The one who had been causing so much buzz in the arena recently. It could not be him, surely… "Lucius?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. The night air suddenly felt colder, more oppressive. “Your son?”

Lucilla nodded, the weight of her words hanging heavily between you both. Her fingers tightened around yours, a silent plea for understanding, as if she were preparing herself for the emotional turbulence that was sure to follow.

“But the man in the arena is not the boy who left. He’s changed, hardened by the years, by what he’s endured.” Her voice wavered slightly, as though the emotions tied to her son’s fate were still too raw.

You tried to process this new information, the weight of it all pressing against your chest. "But why keep this from me?" The question tumbled out of you before you could stop it.

“Because we did not know.” The general answered slowly. You looked at the ground then up slowly. “Wouldn’t he be the prince of Rome then?” It was the truth, he should’ve been heir. “Is this why it has to do with Caracalla?”

“Sort of the kind.” Acacius said. “We are going to break him out. Tonight. We need your help so the Emperors don’t find out.” For a long moment, you remained silent, processing the magnitude of the situation.

“This is treason.” You spoke out. "It is, yes," she said quietly, her voice laced with a painful honesty. "But we don’t see it as betrayal, not to Rome. To our family, you family, it is a chance at redemption. Think of your father.”

His reappearance could change everything, especially if he were to reveal his true identity. "Why come to me?" you asked, your voice almost a whisper. "Why trust me with something like this? You know what could happen if this gets out."

Acacius looked at you with a grim understanding in his eyes. "Because you're the key. We believe that Caracalla... cares for you, more than he’s willing to admit. He trusts you. With that, if anything gets out you can cover.”

“And Geta?” You asked them, still unsure. “He’ll believe his brother.” The general replied. You swallowed, looking between the two of them. A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, each one more conflicting than the last.

"I don’t know what to do," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. The uncertainty in your chest was unbearable. "Alright," you finally said, the words escaping your lips almost before you could fully comprehend what they meant.

Lucilla let out a small, relieved breath, but General Acacius did not seem quite as sure. His eyes never left you, studying you intently, as if trying to read the depth of your decision.

“It won’t be easy," he said, his voice low and firm. "You’ll have to keep your distance from Caracalla—he can’t know about this. We’ll need to move fast. If we can’t get him out by dawn, it’s over.”

The escape of Lucius, the survival of Caracalla, and the fate of Rome itself now rested in your hands.

“I’ll head back, if Caracalla asks any questions, don’t worry about it.” You gave a reassuring smile to them.

As you made your way back to the chambers, your heart was heavy with the weight of what you had just agreed to. The silence in the hallway felt unnervingly loud as you approached your room. You could see the soft glow of the candlelight still flickering under the door, and for a moment, you hesitated.

You opened the door gently, careful not to disturb the fragile peace that had settled in the room. Caracalla was still asleep, his breathing slow and steady, his form a comforting presence in the dim light. The way he had instinctively turned toward you in his sleep—the way his body seemed to seek yours even in rest—made your heart tighten.

You closed the door softly behind you, locking it with a quiet click. Your steps were measured as you returned to the bed, your eyes lingering on Caracalla's face for just a moment longer. He had no idea of the storm you were about to become a part of.

Your hand reached for his, the coolness of your fingers brushing against his warm skin. It was a simple gesture, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Caracalla.” You called out to him, waking him up. “Caracalla.”

Caracalla stirred slowly at the sound of his name, his brow furrowing as his eyes fluttered open. The dim light from the candle by the bed cast soft shadows across his face, and for a moment, he simply blinked at you, still lost in the haze between sleep and waking.

“Lucilla and Acacius are planning on committing treason.”

Authors note: you guys are so loyal to your man I was kinda hoping you all would pick Lucilla but I’ll give the people what they want

[azzibuckets]

good luck babe [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: angsty pazzi fic to good luck babe bc why not

word count: 2.2k

part 2 | masterlist

It's fine, it's cool. You can say that we are nothing, but you know the truth.

“Azzi? Nah, we’re just messing around.”

It seemed like time stood still once Azzi heard those words. She suddenly felt dizzy with the shots of vodka she’d been taking earlier, shots off Paige’s body, and with this unfamiliar feeling slicing like a dagger in her chest. She looked down at her dirty Shirley, the bitterness of the alcohol now overwhelming her mouth and drowning out any flavor of the sugary grenadine.

But she couldn’t fall apart, not here when everyone in the bar was celebrating their win over Texas, and when she knew that the gossip surrounding her and Paige’s situationship circulating around campus like a wildfire meant that eyes would be trained on them the entire night.

What’s worse, Paige had said those words without any hesitation at all, almost scoffing at the idea like it was ridiculous. Like it could never happen. And Azzi was not by any chance a daydreamer, she always prided herself in being reasonable and logical, but she would be lying if she’d said she’d never indulged in creating scenarios in her head of what a future with Paige would look like.

When a few drunk students shoved by Azzi, casting her dirty glances for blocking their way, she startled out of her frozen stupor. Plastering a smile on her face that felt foreignly wide on her lips, she forced her legs to move towards the group. “Hey!” she said, a little too loudly and a little too enthusiastically.

Paige cocked an eyebrow, instantly knowing something was up, but Azzi looked away before the blonde could fully read her facial expression, a skill she’d perfected from years of going through life together.

And guess I'm the fool. With her arms out like an angel through the car sunroof

Azzi regretted everything, for coming to celebrate and get drunk when she had an exam tomorrow she should’ve been studying for. It was almost embarrassing, really, how easily she folded whenever Paige showed up to her dorm. Paige hadn’t even had to say a word tonight, only snaking her hands under Azzi’s shirt for the younger girl to change her mind, throwing on some light makeup and following her best friend out to Ted’s and leaving her laptop still open on her desk.

She felt stupid now, for thinking she was special whenever Paige begged her to go out with the team. It was clear she didn’t even want Azzi’s presence, only enjoyed the power she held over the younger girl, dragging her around like she was a doll.

But she’d had enough. She wanted to salvage any scrap of self dignity she had left, before Paige made her look like a total and utter fool. Azzi finished the last of her dirty Shirley. Paige’s eyes lit up, her hand reaching over to grab the cherry from the bottom of glass, but Azzi shifted her body and set the glass down on the bar top aggressively. “I’m going home,” she announced, wiping her mouth.

“Already?” Paige wrinkled her nose. “It’s only 10.” It was this cluelessness of Paige’s, how she truly had no idea what would make Azzi want to leave this stupid bar, that made her snap.

“Some people actually care about their classes,” Azzi retorted, instantly knowing it was a low blow by the flash in Paige’s eyes. Paige hated stereotypes, especially when people assumed she was stupid just because she was a woman, or a blonde, or an athlete. But Azzi smoothed over the guilt by recalling what Paige had said earlier. Messing around. As if kissing each other senseless and holding each other to sleep every night was messing around.

Paige looked around the group warily, noticing the curious glints in everyone’s eyes and the stares they were getting from others. Grabbing Azzi’s arm, she led her away from the prying ears. “You know you can’t make a scene in front of them,” Paige hissed. “Unless you want them spreading shitty rumors.”

“Oh, so now I’m making a scene?” Azzi didn’t get angry often, and whenever she did, it was usually at her siblings for being a pain in the ass. It was certainly never directed to this girl that she loved, had loved for the past five years and didn’t want to ever stop loving. But it wasn’t her choice. Paige didn’t want her. So she let the bitterness consume her. “God, you’re so high and mighty on your moral horse.”

“I’m just trying to protect you,” Paige said. “Some of these people are nasty, Azzi. They always spin up the wildest stories.”

“Fuck off, Paige.” Azzi knew she was being immature, but she turned on her heel and forced her way through sweaty bodies and out of the bar. Emerging from the doors, she thought she’d managed to lose Paige in the chaos when a hand grabbed hers and forced her to turn around.

“Dude, what is up with you?” Paige’s eyes searched Azzi’s in desperation, hoping that she could read her and understand her like she always did. But the heat in Azzi’s glare was unrecognizable, and Paige had utterly no idea what to do.

I don't wanna call it off. But you don't wanna call it love. You only wanna be the one that I call baby

“What are we, Paige?” Azzi was shivering now from the cold, having forgotten her jacket inside. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to retain body heat.

Paige folded her arms, the frostiness in the air seemingly getting to her too. “What do you mean?”

“Stop playing around. You know what I’m talking about.”

Paige ran a hand over her face. “You’re putting me on the spot right now, Az.”

“On the spot?” Azzi’s voice was wild and frantic. “What’s so hard about this, Paige? Because it’s not hard for me. Not at all.” She wasn’t cold now, not anymore, the pent up fury running its full course throughout her body and heating her up in the worst way possible. “You say we’re just friends with benefits, but last week we made plans for you to stay with my family for a month this summer. That’s not something friends do.”

“Well, we’re not just friends,” Paige said pointedly. “We’re best friends.” From the way Azzi’s face fell, Paige knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as it came out of her mouth. But Paige had never been good at this, at expressing her feelings, especially when it came to Azzi. Azzi made her feel like no one else could. Azzi’s touch always electrified her entire being, a high that made everything else in the world pale in comparison, as if Paige was born solely to experience the feeling of her skin on Azzi’s. And even when they weren’t physically near, Azzi’s smile from across the room always managed to turn her to putty, a person without any semblance of self control. So Paige was scared, honestly, of the power that Azzi held over her, because whenever she was with Azzi she’d never think. She could only let her amped up emotions, always on overdrive, control her. So Paige pushed Azzi away emotionally, refused to ever talk about her feelings for the younger girl with anyone, and especially not with Azzi.

“Okay,” Azzi turned away, sniffling, her cheeks damp and eyes scratchy and red. “I guess that’s your answer.”

Paige’s heart pulsed so fast she thought it would explode from her chest. She’d seen Azzi crying before, and she’d always hated the sight. But Azzi crying because of her? God, it was another feeling altogether, like she’d fucked up her entire life and there was no going back.

Paige reached out, but Azzi turned further so that her entire back was to her. “Don’t,” she whispered weakly, and Paige’s world stopped.

You can kiss a hundred boys in bars. Shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling.

“I’m worried for her.”

Paige stared down at the floor, studying the hardwood, the grooves in the panels.

“Did you hear me?”

Paige’s fingers ghosted her temple, trying to chase away the headache she could tell was starting to form. She’d been having a lot of these lately, migraines so bad she had to close the curtains and burrow herself in her bed for hours. Her mom called it heartache, but Paige rolled her eyes at that. It was probably because of the stress from finals along with the pressure of basketball season. It was nothing she couldn’t get over with a couple pills of Tylenol.

“Yes, I heard you.” Paige’s voice was rough. “I don’t know what you want me to do about it.”

“What the fuck happened to you?” Caroline’s eyes pierced Paige, her tone shifting dramatically from concerned to frustrated. “I feel like we don’t even know you anymore.”

“Excuse me?” Paige glared at Caroline, willing her stare to hold some sort of heat to it, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t be angry at Caroline when she was angry at herself too.

“When did you become so scared?” Caroline cocked her head, studying Paige as if she was someone she didn’t recognize. “You used to be so fearless. Especially when it came to Azzi. You never stopped fighting for her.”

Paige looked away. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“It means that you’re fucking weak, Paige.” Paige cringed at the caustic bluntness of her friend’s words. “You’ve been hiding in your room for weeks. You haven’t even tried talking to her.”

“Don’t say that.” Paige tried to hold in her sob, but it came out anyways. “You don’t know anything about us. No one does.”

Caroline’s eyes softened.

Paige scrubbed at her eyes, trying to wipe away the tears now streaming down her face. “You think I didn’t try talking to her? I fucking texted and called and knocked on her door for hours.” Paige was gasping now, her shoulders shaking and hands trembling. “She doesn’t want to see me, Caro. Not now, not ever.”

Caroline reached for the girl, and she fell in her arms, tears soaking her shirt. The brunette rubbed comforting circles around Paige’s back. “You’re grieving, Paige,” she whispered in her ear. “And she is too. Neither of you are coping with it in a healthy way.”

“I messed up. I messed up so fucking bad.”

“She messed up too. Both of you made mistakes.” Caroline grasped Paige’s shoulders firmly, forcing the blonde to look her in the eyes. “But you guys need to talk and work it out. You need closure.”

“I don’t want closure,” Paige heaved. “I want her.”

*************

“Your call has been forwarded to voicemail. The person you’ve been-”

Azzi slammed the red button on her phone, annoyed. Caroline was supposed to pick her up 20 minutes ago, but she was still nowhere to be seen.

“You sure you don’t need a ride?” Bryan’s face popped out from his apartment window.

“No, fucker.” Azzi shuffled until she was out of view so that he wouldn’t see her pathetically standing there and still waiting for a ride when he’d offered just about a hundred times. But she couldn’t stand being with him alone any longer. He was an asshole who slept with girls to add notches on his bedpost, and she was glad she’d seen through his facade during the date before it was too late.

Finally, a black Camry pulled up to to the curb. She rushed inside, slamming the door shut as quickly as possible. “What the hell,” she hissed. “You’re so fucking late Caroline.”

It was only when she looked up from buckling her seatbelt that she realized that there was someone in the back seat. Her stomach dropped at the familiar blonde hair. It wasn’t neatly put together like it usually was, but tousled and messy and down. Paige looked worse for wear, with dark bags imprinted under her eyes and her skin paler than ever, but despite all this, she still looked tantalizing, magnetic to Azzi’s eyes.

“What’s she doing here?” Azzi asked Caroline, annoyance evident in her tone.

Caroline ignored her. “How was your date?” she asked instead.

“Tell me why the fuck Paige is in the back seat.” Azzi turned to Paige again, expecting the blonde to return with a sarcastic jab of her own like the heated words they usually exchanged whenever they crossed paths during practice in the last few weeks. But Paige didn’t respond this time, only staring at Azzi for half a second before returning her gaze outside the window.

You can say it's just the way you are. Make a new excuse, another stupid reason.

Caroline’s grip tightened on the driver’s wheel. “Are you drunk?”

“Sadly, no.”

“Really?”

Azzi propped her feet up on the dashboard, counting on the fact that it always annoyed her friend. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“Because lately you’ve been drunk more often then not.”

Azzi could feel Paige’s stare burning into the back of her head. She gritted her teeth, hating the way Caroline was exposing her. “That’s not true.”

Caroline tapped her fingers against the wheel. “How many times this past month have I picked you up from a random guy’s house?”

Paige shifted in the back seat.

“That doesn’t mean I’m always drunk.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right. I forgot about all the times you get shit faced alone in your room.”

Azzi whipped her head towards Caroline. “What are you trying to get at?” she seethed.

“You guys are fucking up the entire team. You’ve been inadvertently forcing us to choose sides and it’s always awkward whenever we hang out. You guys are gonna talk it out.”

“Like hell we are,” Azzi muttered under her breath.

A smirk spread across Caroline’s face. “Yes, you are.”

[aealzx]

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Prologue | AO3

Previous Next

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“You came all the way out here to ask me to identify a plant?” Pamela was understandably incredulous as she blocked Tim from entering her current residence.

“Weeelll,” Tim drawled, shrugging with one shoulder. “Spoiler and Orphan said you’d be the best to contact. We could go elsewhere, but then I’d have to find somewhere else for these bacon and egg sandwiches,” he explained, revealing the hand that was behind his back to be holding a paper bag for a local food joint. It was a bribe. Or payment for services rendered if one wanted to be posh about it. But he was fine calling it a bribe.

“Aw hell yeah!” Harleen’s voice came from further in the establishment, and Tim caught just the faintest hint of a smile twitching Pamela’s mouth. She tried to resist, but Tim held his ground with a decidedly innocent smile, the bag of egg sandwiches still held in offering.

Eventually Pamela sighed and held out her hand. “Fine. What identifiers do you have for it?” she relented, letting Tim set the bag of food on her palm.

“Not much honestly. The locals call it a blood blossom, but I doubt it’s a haemanthus coccineus. We don’t have a picture, but we’re told it looks like a red rose bud with black leaves,” Tim answered. He’d done his own research already while waiting for the food to be made, and that was part of the reason he didn’t feel bad for following through with the others’ idea to ask Pamela. He had a few guesses already, but it would be nice to get a second opinion.

“A rose with black leaves?” Pamela repeated, her disappointed expression becoming thoughtful. “That’s it? Nothing else?” she asked soon after, frowning deeper if possible.

“Nothing else,” Tim confirmed, both disappointed and pleased that Pamela also didn’t seem able to come up with an answer.

“Sounds made up,” Pamela answered bluntly, shifting to move back into the building. “There aren’t any roses with black leaves unless they’re mutilated. The closest you’ll get is a begonia switzerland if you’re just going by appearance.”

“Oh…. that’s what I thought too,” Tim hummed, raising a curled finger to his chin.

Pamela’s eye twitched. “Then why did you-.... Goodbye,” she stammered, then figured it wasn’t worth her time to deal with Tim further, and closed the door on him.

Tim could only snort in amusement, raising his voice for just a moment. “Thanks for the info! Enjoy the food!” he called, grinning as he turned to grapple himself back to the rooftops.

So the blood blossoms were either an extremely obscure name for some other plant, or they didn’t actually exist. And if they didn’t exist, then what had poisoned Danny? At least Dick and Damian were heading straight to the manor to follow up with Alfred about meals, and bring the tissue sample with the plant based poison to where Bruce could use their tech to better analyze it. And Barbara had already mentioned she’d meet them there, so while they might not have a good start on two of the three questions they should at least be able to figure out who these kids were exactly.

—----------

“They don’t exist,” Barbara’s conclusion about the five Phantom kids they had custody of was short, but did little to answer any questions the others had. After spending a few hours gathering her data she had decided to join the others at the manor, the three who had returned from the rescue mission, Bruce, and her now gathered in the Bat Cave by the computer. Admittedly that hadn’t been something they fully expected to hear, so there were sagging shoulders from both Dick and Tim at the announcement.

“You ran the search in all of the databases, yeah?” Tim asked, immediately trying to figure out what they had missed. Barbara was usually extremely thorough. It was hard to believe she came up with nothing on a group of five people. Especially when two of them had superhuman abilities.

“Yes, Tim,” Barbara responded quickly. “If you’ll let me continue before you try to solve the problem yourself I’ll save you some steps,” she added, getting a mildly teasing smile. When Tim relented with a mild shrug Barbara turned her chair back to the computer, pulling her reports up on the huge monitor.

“The DNA samples came up with no results. Amity Park doesn’t exist on any map. There’s no social media posts about any combination of their names. And the photo Jason sent of Jazz’s ID also has no results. It doesn’t even resemble the official driver’s license format of Illinois or any of the other states, so it’s not hard to see why the bank teller would call it a fake,” she listed, bringing up the reports from her data scouring as she mentioned them. “The only activity I can track from them is here in Gotham, starting 72 days ago. I believe that’s when they first arrived here.”

The date caused Bruce to shift, breaking out of his silence once it seemed Barbara had finished summarizing her findings and drawing a connection to a separate report he’d gotten more than a month ago. “72 days ago is when the Justice League got readings of an anomaly on the outskirts of Gotham. Investigations revealed some remains of unknown technology, but no one was there with it.”

“...What kind of anomaly?” Dick asked, tensing slightly at a thought that crossed his mind. Unknown DNA, unusable bank and ID cards, two of them claiming to be beings that were never heard of before now.

“Please don’t say multiverse breach,” Tim whined, revealing that he’d had the same thoughts as Dick.

Instead of answering them Bruce just opened a different report, having been locating it as his sons had been speaking. When the data appeared on screen both Dick and Tim let out extended groans, their forms sagging even more as Barbara chuckled softly.

“It had to be dimension garbage,” Tim whined more, squinting at the report confirming suspected multiverse breach residue in the affected area.

“That explains all the missing data,” Barbara commented, just glad to have an explanation for why all her research was coming up blank prior to the anomaly. It was because they literally had nothing on this earth before then, and not because they were some sort of geniuses that could manage such an extensive data wipe to make even her systems come up with blanks.

“That also explains why Dr. Isley was unfamiliar with the blood blossoms,” Damian added, seeming unfazed by the revelation.

“And literally everything else that was weird about them,” Tim encompassed, frustration bleeding into his tone. What kind of puzzle didn’t even have answers in this world? He felt like that was cheating.

“Do they seem aware that they are no longer in their dimension? We’re sure this wasn’t a deliberate transport?” Bruce asked, masking his growing concern for the dislocated children by suggesting they might still be hiding something.

“Please, these kids can’t hide anything that well,” Tim huffed, giving a wry smile. “The only reason they’re able to hide anything is because they’re also oblivious. Otherwise it’s way too easy to tell they’re keeping something a secret.”

Bruce only frowned more at the response, and Barbara couldn’t help add her own support of the idea that the Phantoms had no idea they weren’t even close to home. “They seemed to have had enough to deal with, I don’t think they had time to consider it. Almost 80% of their activity ties back to them looking for ectoplasm. The other 20% is just general medical care and necessities of living.”

“Ectoplasm is the stuff they said Danny needed,” Dick added unnecessarily.

“I remember,” Bruce responded, though he could also understand why the kids had such a hard time tracking down a source. Most of Gotham didn’t even believe in ghosts, and the only people he or his family knew that matched the category were Boston and Greta. “Their search led them to a Lazarus water exchange.”

“Yeah. But apparently even though it’s similar enough, the Lazarus water is ‘freaky’ and they don’t want to use it according to Danielle,” Dick confirmed, using air quotes for what the small girl had said.

“All five of them have traces of another substance I’ve never seen before that seems similar to residue from Lazarus water as well,” Barbara spoke up to add, reaching over to the computer once more as she once again had their attention. The DNA analysis reports were enlarged, and she used a screen sketch app to mark the unusual traces. “It’s most prominent in Danielle and Danny, though Danny’s levels read a lot lower. But the other three have small traces as well.”

“The one called Danielle made mention of Danny having expended a significant amount of energy, to the point his accelerated healing ability has been hindered. And that there was a lack of locations with an abundance of said energy for them to absorb,” Damian recalled, ignoring the face Tim pulled as he slowly turned to look at him.

“You made that sound way more complicated than she did,” Tim grimaced.

“Silence Drake,” Damian retorted simply.

Dick could only snicker while keeping his gaze on the reports like Bruce was doing. “This will make it easier to track some of the substance down. I’ll see if I can create a collection device to make it easier for us to get larger amounts, and work on a way to neutralize the residual plant material,” Bruce commented, already making plans for the next course of action.

“After dinner,” Dick enforced, resting his hands on the back of Bruce’s chair.

Bruce seemed to consider it, falling silent and keeping his gaze on the monitor, giving no answer other than a short grunt after a long stretch of quiet.

Dick only leaned on the chair more, pulling it back slightly. “Aaaaafter dinner, Bruce. Thirty minutes isn’t going to be that big of a loss,” he prodded.

“...Alfred put you up to this, didn’t he,” Bruce pointed out instead of responding to the request.

“He did,” Dick confirmed, admitting to being requested to make sure Bruce got at least one hearty meal before getting lost in his work once again.

Bruce considered it longer, and by then the rest of his children were already on their way back upstairs. Did he really want Alfred hassling him again? “... Very well. After dinner,” he relented, getting to his feet with a slight sigh and locking the computer screen.

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Dimension hopping confirmed~ And I just realized I now have 2 fanfics that involve dimension hopping X'D that was unintentional.

Questions for the people following/interested: because I'm not familiar with most of DC or really DP's canon and fanon content and there's so freaking much of it out there, which characters would you like to see involved? No guarantees that they'll be in if I can't figure out how to get them to fit, but I need somewhere to start researching stuff X'DD. Also there's essentially 2 goals, wake Danny up, and get Team Phantom back home. How difficult should these tasks be, and which one would people rather have more focus on?

This fic originated from a prompt I found, so I think it might be fun to kind of keep that going? A different kind of writing exercise than what I'm used to. So that's why the questions instead of me just going heheh have a cliffhanger.

Though I will say I'm still of the opinion of no romance, so please don't suggest pairings |D

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