#Single Review: Sin

[jaimin]

InsideOut Music Magazine

[5ummit]

AO3 Ship Stats: Year In Bad Data

You may have seen this AO3 Year In Review.

It hasn’t crossed my tumblr dash but it sure is circulating on twitter with 3.5M views, 10K likes, 17K retweets and counting. Normally this would be great! I love data and charts and comparisons!

Except this data is GARBAGE and belongs in the TRASH.

I first noticed something fishy when I realized that Steve/Bucky – the 5th largest ship on AO3 by total fic count – wasn’t on this Top 100 list anywhere. I know Marvel’s popularity has fallen in recent years, but not that much. Especially considering some of the other ships that made it on the list. You mean to tell me a femslash HP ship (Mary MacDonald/Lily Potter) in which one half of the pairing was so minor I had to look up her name because she was only mentioned once in a single flashback scene beat fandom juggernaut Stucky? I call bullshit.

Now obviously jumping to conclusions based on gut instinct alone is horrible practice... but it is a good place to start. So let’s look at the actual numbers and discover why this entire dataset sits on a throne of lies.

Here are the results of filtering the Steve/Bucky tag for all works created between Jan 1, 2023 and Dec 31, 2023:

Not only would that place Steve/Bucky at #23 on this list, if the other counts are correct (hint: they're not), it’s also well above the 1520-new-work cutoff of the #100 spot. So how the fuck is it not on the list? Let’s check out the author’s FAQ to see if there’s some important factor we’re missing.

The first thing you’ll probably notice in the FAQ is that the data is being scraped from publicly available works. That means anything privated and only accessible to logged-in users isn’t counted. This is Sin #1. Already the data is inaccurate because we’re not actually counting all of the published fics, but the bots needed to do data collection on this scale can't easily scrape privated fics so I kinda get it. We’ll roll with this for now and see if it at least makes the numbers make more sense:

Nope. Logging out only reduced the total by a couple hundred. Even if one were to choose the most restrictive possible definition of "new works" and filter out all crossovers and incomplete fics, Steve/Bucky would still have a yearly total of 2,305. Yet the list claims their total is somewhere below 1,500? What the fuck is going on here?

Let’s look at another ship for comparison. This time one that’s very recent and popular enough to make it on the list so we have an actual reference value for comparison: Nick/Charlie (Heartstopper). According to the list, this ship sits at #34 this year with a total of 2630 new works. But what’s AO3 say?

Off by a hundred or so but the values are much closer at least!

If we dig further into the FAQ though we discover Sin #2 (and the most egregious): the counting method. The yearly fic counts are NOT determined by filtering for a certain time period, they’re determined by simply taking a snapshot of the total number of fics in a ship tag at the end of the year and subtracting the previous end-of-year total. For example, if you check a ship tag on Jan 1, 2023 and it has 10,000 fics and check it again on Jan 1, 2024 and it now has 12,000 fics, the difference (2,000) would be the number of "new works" on this chart.

At first glance this subtraction method might seem like a perfectly valid way to count fics, and it’s certainly the easiest way, but it can and did have major consequences to the point of making the entire dataset functionally meaningless. Why? If any older works are deleted or privated, every single one of those will be subtracted from the current year fic count. And to make the problem even worse, beginning at the end of last year there was a big scare about AI scraping fics from AO3, which caused hundreds, if not thousands, of users to lock down their fics or delete them.

The magnitude of this fuck up may not be immediately obvious so let’s look at an example to see how this works in practice.

Say we have two ships. Ship A is more than a decade old with a large fanbase. Ship B is only a couple years old but gaining traction. On Jan 1, 2023, Ship A had a catalog of 50,000 fics and ship B had 5,000. Both ships have 3,000 new works published in 2023. However, 4% of the older works in each fandom were either privated or deleted during that same time (this percentage is was just chosen to make the math easy but it’s close to reality).

Ship A: 50,000 x 4% = 2,000 removed works Ship B: 5,000 x 4% = 200 removed works

Ship A: 3,000 - 2,000 = 1,000 "new" works Ship B: 3,000 - 200 = 2,800 "new" works

This gives Ship A a net gain of 1,000 and Ship B a net gain of 2,800 despite both fandoms producing the exact same number of new works that year. And neither one of these reported counts are the actual new works count (3,000). THIS explains the drastic difference in ranking between a ship like Steve/Bucky and Nick/Charlie.

How is this a useful measure of anything? You can't draw any conclusions about the current size and popularity of a fandom based on this data.

With this system, not only is the reported "new works" count incorrect, the older, larger fandom will always be punished and it’s count disproportionately reduced simply for the sin of being an older, larger fandom. This example doesn’t even take into account that people are going to be way more likely to delete an old fic they're no longer proud of in a fandom they no longer care about than a fic that was just written, so the deletion percentage for the older fandom should theoretically be even larger in comparison.

And if that wasn't bad enough, the author of this "study" KNEW the data was tainted and chose to present it as meaningful anyway. You will only find this if you click through to the FAQ and read about the author’s methodology, something 99.99% of people will NOT do (and even those who do may not understand the true significance of this problem):

The author may try to argue their post states that the tags "which had the greatest gain in total public fanworks” are shown on the chart, which makes it not a lie, but a error on the viewer’s part in not interpreting their data correctly. This is bullshit. Their chart CLEARLY titles the fic count column “New Works” which it explicitly is NOT, by their own admission! It should be titled “Net Gain in Works” or something similar.

Even if it were correctly titled though, the general public would not understand the difference, would interpret the numbers as new works anyway (because net gain is functionally meaningless as we've just discovered), and would base conclusions on their incorrect assumptions. There’s no getting around that… other than doing the counts correctly in the first place. This would be a much larger task but I strongly believe you shouldn’t take on a project like this if you can’t do it right.

To sum up, just because someone put a lot of work into gathering data and making a nice color-coded chart, doesn’t mean the data is GOOD or VALUABLE.

[incarnadin3]

How Obey Me Brothers realized they were in love with MC: Part One, Lucifer

A/N: This idea was in my brain for a while so I decided why not write it? Also, am I the only one who writes well in their head but struggles to write it on paper??? Like wtf should I yap on here.

Lucifer: The Mighty Firstborn

Since Lucifer was the first born, all the major responsibilities were naturally given to him. From paying bills, and managing Mammon's spending, to ensuring the House of Lamentation was running properly, it was quite a lot for the Avatar of Pride.

But his pride refused to let him show weakness, instead working himself overtime to stay on top of things, which often led to him burning himself out, like today.

Mammon had somehow managed to steal Lord Diavolo's card and spent a hefty amount on gambling. While the Prince seemed unfazed, perhaps even a bit amused by the ordeal, Lucifer had been livid.

After lecturing and tying him up to the ceiling as usual, he had been working through a stack of papers, ranging from letters from angry witches demanding their money back from Mammon, to debts that had to be payed because of his greedy brother.

As the moon rose higher in the sky, the stack of papers did not seem to lower, towering over him, waiting to be reviewed.

Even though it didn't outwardly appear that Lucifer loved his brothers, at heart, he really truly did.

Which was currently the reason why he had Mammon's homework in front of him, one of the many he had forgotten to do in his haste to go gambling.

Lucifer sighed, scribbling in the answers, wrinkling his nose ever so slightly at the messy handwriting. Mammon wasn't one to have good handwriting, and if Lucifer wanted to pretend that Mammon was the one who wrote in th answers, he had to copy his handwriting.

As soon as he wrote the last few words, his pen instantly slipped from his fingers, and his head dropped forward onto his desk, and he was knocked out cold.

The next day, as he discreetly slid the homework papers into Mammon's bag before the teacher began to collect them, he realized that in his haste to do Mammon's homework, he had forgotten to do his. Him, Lucifer, Avatar of Pride, the Mighty Firstborn, the one who never missed a single assignment, was about to get berated for not doing his homework.

He tensed up as the Teacher approached, nodding approvingly as she took Mammon's homework, then held out her hand expectantly at Lucifer, wait for him to hand in his homework.

"𝘐…𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬…."

"𝘌𝘹-𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘦?"the teacher stammered, staring at him as if he head sprouted two heads.

He merely sighed, his head dropping as he heard Mammon snicker in the background. Suddenly he heard another voice intervene.

"Teacher! Lucifer did do his homework! I accidentally took it thinking it was mine!"

Lucifer just stared in surprise, confusion, and shock as you gave an embarrassed smile, holding out the homework, his name written across the top. He watched as the teacher glared and lectured you on not stealing other's homework and passing it off as their own, even if it was by mistake.

As the class continued, he could barely focus, as he noticed you place a comforting hand on his thigh, occasionally squeezing it in comfort as they continued their lesson. As he finally began writing his notes in for the class, a small note suddenly got slipped into his hands.

We all appreciate your efforts, especially your brothers. You are truly amazing for doing what you did. We love you -MC

Lucifer couldn't help but blush slightly, a few tears at the corners of his eyes, as he reread each kind word.

He looked sideways at MC, who was ever so focused on their notes, thoughtfully chewing their bottom lip as the worked. It was at this moment that he realized that he truly loved you, and would be willing to kill for them.

After Lilith's death, it was as if no one wanted to appreciate his efforts. True, his sin made it harder to express himself, but his brothers refused to even try to understand him or appreciate why he did what he did. But today, seeing you go out of your way to appreciate him, made him realize that maybe, just maybe, there was some happiness in store for him.

[milswrites]

A thousand roses

~ Cassian X Fem!Reader

Summary: Every day you curse the books that gave you unrealistically high expectations of men. Sure you were going to be single forever until you meet Cassian. Adamant he wants to take you on a date, Cassian does his best to impress.

Warning: ⚠️ Reading this may give you unrealistically high expectations of men ⚠️

Actual warnings: Lots of sex talk and inferences to sex but no actual smut!

“And then he made her orgasm three times! Three! The last guy I was with didn’t even manage to squeeze one out of me!”

Upon finishing your latest read, you just couldn’t help but give a very detailed review of exactly what you thought about it to your co-worker. A packed cafe in Velaris during the middle of the day was probably not the most appropriate location to shout about your sex life, but you just had to share how the smut filled pages had left you more satisfied than any man had ever done.

Jadis snorted into the steaming hot tea she was drinking, liquid spilling everywhere, “I’m telling you girl, you just need to get out there, kiss a few frogs to find your prince. I don’t know how many more of your smut reviews I can take. It’s not natural to be this turned on at work.”

You hummed in response, fingers absentmindedly brushing over the pages of your book, “But that’s the problem. I’m too picky to go for a frog!” You blame the hundreds of books in your library at home for that, millions of perfect fictional men literally at your fingertips. “Real men just don’t do it for me anymore.”

This statement was confirmed as you miserably scanned your eyes over the customers in the cafe, none of the males present seeming to stick out to you meet any of your self-imposed standards. You only had yourself and your books to blame for your lack of a relationship.

“I’m just never going to find anyone! Forever reading in my house wishing I was at the mercy of one of my book boyfriends” you sighed, not wanting to seem downhearted but you just couldn’t help it. Velaris just so happened to be a haven for beautiful relationships, everywhere you turned you’d see interlocked hands, affectionate hugs and the occasional heated exchange of kisses. You could only wish that one day you’d be in the same boat as them, overwhelmingly in love with someone who you could call your own. There’s a reason the night court was so affectionately called the court of dreams.

Jadis reeled in your wandering mind, “Well darling, I hope you enjoy forever fantasising about sex rather than having it. I for one can’t wait to take Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome for a spin.”

She was referring to the moderately attractive male who had asked her out the other day during the preparation of his morning coffee. In your opinion, it wasn’t the most romantic scene. Though Jadis hadn’t been on a date in a long while and so in her own words she was going to implode if she didn’t get a good fuck in soon. So who were you to judge.

The bell above the cafe door twinkled, ending the conversation about your book and pathetic love life. Your eyes travelled to the cafe entrance and stopped when they landed on the biggest male you had ever seen. The Illyrian walked through the door, having to duck his head and draw his wings in to fit through the much smaller frame. His presence in the cafe was enough for you to lift your head from where it was sat in your palm, interest peaked.

There was no doubt that this Illyrian was one of the most attractive males you have ever seen. His long brown hair was pulled back messily into a bun. You didn’t normally like the rough, slightly barbarian-esque type, typically preferring your males to be more clean-cut. It was clear this man didn’t look like most males. No, he looked as if he had just stepped out of one of your deliciously sinful smut books.

He began to approach the counter, his body taking up so much space that he bumped into tables, displacing the drinks of customers who were grasping at the mugs and glasses to try and prevent them from spilling at the earthquake caused by this ginormous man. He apologised to each of them as he moved but kept his eyes locked ahead. Locked on you.

Your friend, noticing the effect this man had on you, spun around and immediately started acting as if she was busy with another job, leaving you to serve him in your hypnotised state.

“Just a coffee please love” he said, pulling you from your stupor as he finally came to a stop at the counter. Mother, even his voice was hot. It was resonant and also bore the twinge of gruffness which left goosebumps on your arms in its wake. There was no doubt everything about this man oozed pure sex appeal. You were too mesmerised to move, brain not registering that he had asked you to do your job. Instead, like a besotted fool, you stayed stood behind your counter, feet rooted to the ground.

“You alright there gorgeous?” The unbelievably good looking male asked, roguishly handsome smile growing on his face, clearly aware of the effect he has on you. This spurred you to move, the stacked cups surrounding you rattling at your sudden movement. “Coffee! Right. Yes, of course!” Managing to squeak a few words out, you turned around to busy yourself with making the coffee, hatred in your eyes as you glared at Jadis who left you stranded making coffee for this very handsome man who’s looks alone were doing very strange things to you and making you think very indecent things. Jadis, undeterred by your glare, wiggled her eyebrows at you, grin stretched across her face, beaming from ear to ear.

With shaky hands, you finish up with making his coffee and without turning around, afraid you’d accidentally start professing your undying love to him if you did, you ask, “any sugar?”

His honey coated voice replies, “No thanks, I’ve already got my eye on something sweeter.” You ignored the sight of your friend’s head snapping speedily to look at you in glee. Heat burning across your cheeks, you turn back to face him, avoiding the man’s eyes.

Hands still shaking, you place the coffee in front of him and wait for him to pay. The sooner he leaves the sooner you can gossip with your Jadis about him and moan about your inability to act normal in front of incredibly attractive men. He pulls out the money from his pocket and places it on the counter, pushing it towards you, but before you can take it from him he drags it back in his direction, finger holding it in place. “How about you and I go out together sometime sweetheart? You’re obviously desperate to.”

At this, the lovesick fog that had been swimming in front of your eyes since this man had entered the cafe dissipated. Rose-tinted glasses off you noticed that the smile that adorned his face was more of a cocky smirk. His confidence and tone of voice told you that he asks this question a lot and most likely always gets the answer he desires. It was clear this man wasn’t the personification of one of your book males come to life. He was just another playboy.

Not wanting to just be another name on the list for this man, you slid the money out from under his hand, sickly sarcastic smile on your face, and said, “I think I’ll pass thanks sweetheart.”

The males smirk promptly fell from his face in shock, clearly not expecting, nor used to rejection. He sputtered out a few buts and whats, flirty demeanour forgotten, a slightly pathetic butt-hurt one taking its place. This was definitely a man not used to losing.

“Have a nice day!” You enthusiastically, and very satirically, finished this interaction before walking away to busy yourself with clearing some now empty tables in the cafe. Wings hung low in defeat, the man at the counter left the cafe, bell ringing as he exited. This surprised you, having expected him to put up a little more of a fight, but nonetheless you were glad that it was over with. Cursing yourself for falling for just another pretty face, standards forgotten.

“What?!” Your friend screamed running over to you, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you vigorously as if you had lost all senses. Unafraid of scaring off the customers who still sat in the cafe, some clearly entertained by the whole event which had transpired. “Do you know who that was? Oh Y/N he was totally into you! Why did you say no?”

“Because he was looking at me as if I was a piece of meat! And no, I have no idea who he was and unlike you I don’t go jumping on every stranger who asks me out at work” You brushed Jadis off of you and started taking the dirty glasses back behind the counter to be washed, your friend hot on your heels not wanting to finish this conversation just yet.

“That was Cassian!” She continued, expression as if it should have been obvious to you who the Illyrian male was. “Good for him” you replied, no idea why it should matter to you who he was, clearly if Jadis and the few interested by standers in the cafe knew who he was he had quite the reputation in Velaris. Surely that mustn’t be a good thing.

“Cassian? Lord of bloodshed? General and Commander of the Night Court’s army?” She continued, seriously not convinced you could have absolutely no idea about him.

You snorted, “I’m sorry, no one actually has that many titles unless they’re from a book… or if they just have a very large ego”.

Jadis groaned, hands fisting her hair in exasperation, “Y/N he’s like totally hot and totally loaded and super important! And he was so checking you out!” You could tell all this was upsetting your friend who was most definitely hoping you were about to get some much needed action, but all you could do was shrug, “I’m sorry babe but I’m a romantic, it’s going to take more than pet names and a stupidly attractive face to gain my interest.”

Giving up, Jadis dropped her hands from her head in acceptance, disappointment clear on her face, “I know, but don’t come running back to me to complain how unsatisfied you are when that Illyrian god was basically throwing himself at you.”

After the topic of the male was dropped, your day continued as normal, whilst Jadis had promised not to bring it up again but you couldn’t help but notice the angry glances your friend kept throwing your way during the last few hours of your shift, distressed that you had let a man go who had seemed perfectly acceptable in her opinion.

At the end of your shift, in an attempt to get her to understand where you were coming from, you slid your book towards her, “Here. Read it and then maybe you’ll understand what I mean.” She picked it up, looking at the cover eyes bulging at the title, “Bound in chains? Really?”

“Trust me, sit down with a large glass of wine and read it. You’re going to love it!”

With that the two of you locked up the cafe, book secure in Jadis’s bag. You said your goodbyes at the door and headed your seperate ways, all thoughts of the handsome man from earlier in the day long gone. Upon your arrival at home, you wandered to your favourite room in the house, your library, wanting to select a new read to cosy up with for the evening.

Approaching your shelf that you reserved exclusively for books you had bought but had yet to read, you pulled one out by its spine, eyes glancing over the cover. The cover which bore the image of a large, well-muscled man, whose long brown hair flowed freely over his shoulders. Eyes blowing wide and blush returning to your cheeks you shoved the book back onto the shelf. Thoughts drifting back to the Illyrian with the same looks who had been flirting with you earlier. Maybe you’d be better off reading a safe fantasy book tonight. Or better yet a book that had no man in at all, although that would be a rare find in your library.

~~~~~

“I am a changed women”

Returning to work the next day, you were greeted by Jadis smiling, bouncing up and down on her feet, and holding your book in her hands.

“I take it you liked it then?”

“Liked it?”Jadis squealed, “it was like reading pure porn. I loved it”

You laughed along side her, of course Jadis would read an entire book and focus on the porn rather than the actual plot of it.

“Truly I did,” she continued, rushing about and gathering her things, “and I would love to stay behind now my shift has finished to talk about it but I have to go home and get ready for Mr Tall, Dark and Handsome, maybe tonight I can try out some of those moves I read about!” She winked at you, handing over your book before rushing out of the cafe with an excitable “Wish me luck!”

Work had been very quiet today, allowing you time to sit and read your newest book. After finishing a simple fantasy last night you were left unsatisfied by the lack of enjoyment it provided when it came to the physical romance. Needing more, you had selected one of the filthiest books you could find.

Engrossed in the pages, plot thickening by the minute, you were absorbed into the book. Only to be broken from its spell when the familiar chime rang of the bell rang out, signalling a customer had arrived. Rushing to finish the page before they reached the counter, your eyes flew over the words before you finally reached the end of the page. Enabling you to look up from behind your book only to see Cassian standing before you, lips formed into a cautious smile. As if unsure of how you’d react to his presence after yesterday.

“Coffee?” You ask, eyebrows raised, placing your book down before standing up from the stool you were sat on behind the counter.

“Please if you don’t mind, but don’t let me stop you from finishing ‘Fated Frenzy’… cauldron do women really read books like this?” Cassian exclaimed, picking up your book and flicking through the pages, holding it out of reach so you couldn’t snatch it back.

Clenching your fists together as you glared at him you replied, “well if only men knew how to actually please a woman then we wouldn’t have to.”

“Maybe you just haven’t found the right man then,” Cassian mumbled, focus still on the book that was dwarfed in his large hands. He must have reached a particularly risqué part as his eyes widened slightly, tongue peaking out from between his lips. Now as he spoke, reading from your book, he wore a large grin, “I mean not every man has a cock that looks as if it was sculpted by the gods themselves.”

You scowled, now managing to take hold of the book grasped in one of his large hands and snatched it back. “I’ve certainly never met a man like that” you replied as you slammed your book back onto the counter and moved off to make his coffee so he could leave you to read in peace.

“Don’t want to check sweetheart?” He teased from behind your back, clearly trying to get you as flustered as he had managed to yesterday. Pleased at your banter. Not wanting to give him what he wants, and definitely not wanting to turn around to see his stupidly handsome smirking face looking back at you, you replied from over your shoulder while you were busy finishing his drink, “it doesn’t take a fool to know the spymaster has a larger wingspan. Now his I’d like to see.”

You heard the catch of his breath, causing him to choke on air at what you had said, clearly not expecting your confident retort, and not saying anything at the discovery you do indeed know who he is all thanks to Jadis. Cheeks stretching into a grin of your own at his embarrassment, you turn and place his drink in front of him. Unlike yesterday, Cassian didn’t even attempt to reach for his money before asking, “Please, let me take you out somewhere nice”.

Your smile dropped, head shaking slowly, “What classes as nice in your books? Other than a quick fuck behind the back of the building.” This comment made Cassian’s eyebrows knit together, not happy with the impression you had of him. “What will it take for you to understand I’m serious? That I want to take you on a date to get to know you.” He sounded earnest you’d give him that.

“I don’t know ok! I just know that I’m not going to say yes to a man I don’t even know who asked me out while I was just doing my job.”

He stretched out his hand, trying to meet yours which was resting on the counter but you pulled away before any contact could be made. “I want to get to know you, if you’ll let me. Likes, dislikes, good bits, bad bits, everything.”

“I- I don’t know Cassian, I just don’t think this is going to work.”

“What will it take?” He begged, eyes desperate.

“For you to be like one of them” you said, nodding your head towards your book.

“An overly sexual alpha male?” He said, confused as to what you were actually referring to. This made a small laugh escape from your lips, “No that’s just a bonus. I’m sorry Cassian, I just dream about being swept of my feet by a man that acts like one of them. Romantic, sweet, not asking out every other woman they see.”

“I can be romantic” Cassian said defensively, “I can be incredibly romantic”

Wanting to get this interaction over with you decided just to agree with him. “I’m sure you can Cassian, no doubt there’s a very lucky woman waiting for you somewhere”.

You weren’t sure it was possible for his brows to furrow any more than they already were, “I’ll prove it to you. Prove that I’m all in on this. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on and I’m not going to let you go that easily.” Determined look plastered on his face Cassian grabbed his coffee and walked towards the door pulling the it open, bell chiming, and before he stepped outside he called back to you, “I’ll see you soon gorgeous, you better be ready for me” and with that Cassian left, the cafe silent apart from the bell still ringing, the sound helping you realise that Cassian was real and that interaction did actually happen.

It was only five minutes later, when your wild thoughts were tamed by another customer entering did you realise that Cassian never even paid for his drink.

~~~~~

“Y/N!” Cassian shouted bustling through the tables to reach you as he entered your work once more. Shock flooded your system, he had learnt your name from when you last spoke to him two days ago. After causing a ruckus, and spilling many drinks onto poor unsuspecting customers laps, he reached the counter where you were stood waiting for him.

“What are you-“ you started angrily, worried he would scare away valued customers. Though you were interrupted by Cassian whose arm, which was hiding behind his back, shot out revealing the largest bouquet of flowers you’ve ever seen.

He held them out expectantly, waiting for you to take them but your suprise had you rooted to the spot. Familiar with your freezing by now, Cassian impatiently shook the bouquet in your face, movement bringing your thoughts back to the present. Still not taking them, not quite believing something so beautiful could be gifted to you, you spoke, “They’re lovely Cassian but you just cut right in front of Matilda who was here first!” Cassian’s features faltered as he dropped the bouquet in disappointment.

Matilda , the lovely little old fae who frequented your cafe, leaned around Cassian’s broad figure so she could see you, “it’s alright Y/N! Take the damn flowers and talk to the man!”

Cassian thanked the older women and stuck out the flowers once more. “For you,” he said encouragingly, willing you to accept the gift, “I told you I’d prove myself to you. I’m here for a date.” By this point you had been stood there for a ridiculous time causing your Jadis to stretch her arm past you and grab the flowers smirking as she says, “Thank you Cassian, they’re beautiful, Y/N loves them. Lillies are her favourite, how did you know?” Winking as she walked off with the bouquet it was clear Cassian has been getting some insider information from the mouth of your best friend.

The Illyrian nodded his head at your friend gratefully and you finally rediscovered the ability to speak, “Thank you, but if you’re here for a date I’m sorry I can’t help you, this is my work Cas, I have to do my job.”

“Pfft bit presumptuous I’m here for a date with you”

At that your face fell slightly before you quickly returned you expression to normal, not wanting Cassian to know his words had an effect on you. Surely he wouldn’t bring you flowers just to have a date with another woman in your workplace. Was this some twisted way to try and make you jealous?

Flirty expression on his face Cassian adjusted where he was stood and flung his arm around Matilda who began to blush, “Have to find out everything I can about you from my beautiful date Matilda here! One coffee for me and one of whatever my darling date would like” he said, making Matilda giggle before asking for her usual. Relief flooding you body, your lips twitched and you began to make their order, “my, my, Matilda. I have to say I expected better in your taste of men”.

“Woah woah no need to tell her,” Cassian joked, “don’t want this hot commodity to leave me for something better” he finished, winking at Morgana who looked as happy as if it was Solstice morning. Grabbing the finished drinks you had placed before him, he headed to a table, coming back once the drinks were down to walk Matilda to her chair, but not before placing his money on the counter, saying, “Moneys there for the other day by the way, I’ll speak to you later.”

Cassian must have sat talking with Matilda for hours, watched closely by you from the corner of your eye as you worked, customer after customer coming and going. Finally when the rush had died down and your shift was coming to an end, the two who had been huddled together gossiping over more than a few coffees, hot chocolates and cakes stood to take their leave. Or more accurately, Matilda was taking her leave. Cassian had said his goodbyes bending down to give Matilda a big hug and then scooped their empty plates and cups into his arms before walking towards you.

There wasn’t enough time for him to place the items down on the counter before you watched as Matilda lay a firm smack to his backside before giggling, “I’ll see you later hot stuff.” Lucky not to break any cups, Cassian jumped, flying forwards and dropping them all onto the counter before you, eyes terrified.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, placing the cups the right way up before checking on the male, “you alright there hot stuff?”

“Oh don’t even start. That woman’s got one strong slap” he whined, hand rubbing his ass to relieve some of the pain.

“Don’t act like that’s not how all your dates end” you goaded, cheeks twinging at the effort to stop yourself from bursting out laughing.

“Trust me gorgeous, if any of my actual dates ended like that I wouldn’t be complaining” he winked at you, all the while pulling a napkin out of its holder to help you clean his mess from the counter.

As you watched him clean, you couldn’t help but admire the way his brows slightly furrow when he’s concentration, noting the way his focused mouth tilts to once side, tongue slightly poking from between his lips. He was handsome there was no denying it.

“Will you walk me home?” You blurted, snapping your mouth shut and internally cursing yourself for asking such a ridiculous thing, digging yourself into an even deeper hole you continued, “it’s only that the flowers you got me are so big… and I have all my other things…and…uh..”

“Y/N, I would love to walk you home”

“Great! I’ll just um, go and grab my stuff”

You turned, heading towards the cloakroom, only to be met by Jadis, bag and bouquet in hand. She shoved them eagerly into your arms squealing, “go get him girl!” Hands pressed against your back, she forced you to move forwards until you were in front of Cassian, “don’t have too much fun you two” she said now guiding you both from the cafe, tripping and stumbling over each others feet as Jadis’s excitement led to some very firm shoving.

~~~~~

Once outside in one piece, no thanks to Jadis, Cassian plucked the flowers from your arms allowing you to swing the strap of your book-filled bag over your shoulders. Timidness now overcame you, what were you supposed to say to him now? Had asking him to walk you home seemed too desperate?

“So what are you reading now? Not another book about a poor sexually frustrated female?” He asked, breaking your panicked thoughts as he walked side by side with you.

“No sex this time,” you giggled lightly, “this one’s about a man who sacrificed his kingdom for his true love”

“You really like that stuff huh?” Cassian spoke softly to you, he sounded like he was truly interested in finding out exactly how your brain worked, “that true love and romantic gestures shit?”

“It’s not shit” you defended, “sometimes it helps me not feel so alone. Reading about all these grand gestures and things people do for the ones they love.”

Cassian cleared his throat awkardly, his hand which was not holding the flowers moving up to scratch at his head, “and you’re into that? Romantic gestures?”

“It’s hard not to be. Pretty sure it’s every girls dream to be swept of their feet and fall as deeply as characters do in books.” Cassian was nodding along to what you were saying but his eyes showed he was lost in thought. It was your turn to draw him from his head, “you never done anything romantic for your ladies Cas?”

His name on your lips seemed to work, the clouds of thought in his eyes fading as he turned his gaze from the road ahead to you, “I guess I’ve normally always thought that just me is enough”. He didn’t say this to be cocky or narcissistic, you could tell. You didn’t mean to make him feel shame over the situation, you had been genuinely curious. Perhaps a little jealous at the thought of Cassian putting in just as much work into chasing other women as he has been with you.

“That’s ok. I think romance is more reserved for the pages of books these days than in actual reality”

Not a fan of where this conversation had turned to Cassian did his best to lift the mood, “I’m not surprised you think that if all your books were like that one I caught you reading. Heck where are you meant to find a overprotective god of war with who hates everyone but the lowly daughter of an inventor and they go on to have insane - and totally not physically possible by the way- sex!”

You scrunched your face, “Cassian there’s no way you were able to get all that from one page…Oh cauldron! You read the book! You read Fatal Frenzy!”

As if only now realising what he said to you, a flustered Cassian tried to provide you with lame excuses as to how he knew that information until it was clear you weren’t going to let it go. After about five minutes of listening to your constant prodding, poking and teasing as you walked, Cassian caved, “Fine! Fine, I read it ok. I was curious as to how he was going to put his god level cock to use!”

By this point you were full on cackling, having to stop your walking to put a hand on your stomach at the thought of this mountain of a man sitting down to read a devilishly smutty book. “I have to say”, you gasped out in-between giggles, “I’m surprised you can even read”.

Cassian acted out the most overdramatic reaction to your words, his hands flew to his heart, bouquet still in his grasp, and released loud, exaggerated noises of pain and cries of just how horrible you were. People had began to stop in the street, wondering why the Lord of Bloodshed was acting as though he had just been shot. Rolling your eyes and wanting the attention off the two of you, you elbowed his side prompting him to stop, “careful you’ll crush my flowers if you die any wilder.”

Charming grin of his face, Cassian looked down at you, “we wouldn’t want that would we? Not when a super hot guy went through the effort of finding out your favourite flowers for you.”

“You’re crazy” you said in dismissal, continuing to walk in the direction of your home.

“Your kind of crazy?” A hopeful tone in Cassian’s voice.

“I haven’t quite decided yet” you said honestly. You couldn’t deny that Cassian was already proving himself to you more than any man has. No one had ever bought you flowers before and no male had ever attempted to read a book you were reading for your attention.

“Well you just let me know when you do” Even the way Cassian looked at you made you melt.

“You’ll be the first” gentle smile on your face. Nerves building in you once more as you thought about what going further with the man next you you would entail.

Content to let you walk lost in your thoughts, Cassian didn’t try to force any conversation. A natural peace fell between the two of you, the silence not an awkward one. It wasn’t until you neared the outside of your house that you broke the silence, “Well, this is me”.

Nodding Cassian passed you the bouquet. For the first time you looked at the flowers and really admired them, admired the fact this man had gone out his way to go to your friend and make sure he got your favourite ones.

“Thank you Cassian,” you said, laying a kiss onto his stubbled cheek, “they’re beautiful.”

Cassian’s usual confidence gone, it was his turn to blush. Shyly, he tried his luck again, “so about that date?”

You walked over to your door, pulling out your key, turning back to Cassian, twinkle in your eyes, you said, “ask me again tomorrow���.

“That wasn’t a no!” He said, confidence rushing back into him. As you entered your house and peaked through the window behind your curtains you couldn’t help but watch Cassian, beam on his face, as he jumped on the spot. A small celebration that you hadn’t fully rejected him once more. A matching grin on your face as you observed him, you stayed watching until he took off from the ground, large angelic wings spread, wondering what in Prythian was this man doing to you and what sinful things you’d like to do with those wings.

~~~~~

You were sorely disappointed over the course of the next week. Since that evening Cassian had walked you home to the cafe he had not returned. Jadis tried to keep your thoughts positive, saying he was probably away on important Night Court business, being the General of its army and all. After being the one to speak to Cassian about you she was adamant that he was undoubtedly in love with you and he wouldn’t leave you hanging.

It was hard though, when the eighth day of his absence rolled round, not to think that he had found someone more interesting to pursue. Someone who didn’t make him work as hard for their affections. Your mood was so glum that you didn’t even have the heart to read. Why read about love when you’re not sure you believe in it anymore?

You had spent days wondering what you had done wrong. Had you been too forward? Or did he find your obsession with males that weren’t real a little too bizarre? You did your best not to dwell on it but it was so hard not to, the flowers you had placed in a vase on the side table in your library, right next to your reading chair, still flourished beautifully, a constant reminder of the man who crashed into your life only to leave it in shambles.

So here you were, sat on the stool in the cafe, your thoughts being the only thing to keep you busy due to your sudden lack of interest in reading. It had been another quiet day, but it wasn’t long now until Jadis would arrive, you had opened the cafe for her after she asked for a favour so she could spend the night at Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome’s, who’s name you had learnt was Arthur. Happy that even if your love life was crumbling, at least Jadis’s was blooming. However, you were thankful you weren’t actually supposed to be working today, not sure if you could survive another shift listening to her unintentionally boast about how perfect Arthur was and how good he is at sex.

So you sat there and waited for her arrival, desperate to go home and crawl into your bed. Without your typical reading to do, you found yourself spending most of your free time sleeping, wasting away the hours you didn’t know what to do with yourself in.

It was finally an hour after the time she had promised to be in for, when Jadis flew into the cafe, bell ringing aggressively at her sudden entrance. Running to where you were at the counter, coat and bags in hand, she was profusely apologising over and over for her tardiness.

“You must have had a good night with Mr Handsome” you teased, trying not to let your slight annoyance at you still being here show. Confusion flashed across her face before she quickly corrected it in realisation, “Oh yeah! Totally great sex, every woman’s dream. Hugeeee dick.”

Opening your mouth, ready to ask her about her odd behaviour, she pulled you from your stool before you could talk. Dragging you out from behind the work area, saying “Come on Y/N it’s your day off, don’t want to be here any longer than you have to be!”

Now you defiantly knew something was off, Jadis typically keeping you an hour in-between shifts to catch you up on everything that has happened since the day before. “Jadis, what’s going on?” You asked cautiously, had something happened between her and Arthur? No. Jadis would definitely tell you if that was the case, or maybe she just didn’t want to make you any more depressed than you already were. Still in that strange tone of voice, Jadis kept pushing you to leave, “Nothings wrong! I’m fine. Now leave, you still have the whole day to do something, go read one of your smut books!”

This confirmed she was definitely hiding something, knowing that you haven’t picked up a book for the past week after listening to your incessant complaining about the matter. If you weren’t so desperate to leave and go rot in bed for the rest of the day you would have stayed and forced whatever it is she was hiding out of her. You decided that was tomorrow’s job, when you had a nice six hour shift together where she couldn’t avoid your pestering.

Shrugging on your coat and promising to yourself you’d find out what she was dodging tomorrow, you left the cafe. Turning your head around to look back through the windows only to be met with Jadis and her crazed eyes watching, as if making sure you were walking in the direction of your house. Unsettled, you followed the streets leading home, praying to the Mother that your friend was alright and you weren’t about to have to kill a man for upsetting her.

Finally, you arrived at your door, turning the key in the lock you were startled to discover the door was already unlocked. You were exhausted when you left that morning but you could have sworn you weren’t so tired that you’d risk your property and your safety like that.

Fear now coursing through your veins, you quietly pushed your door open, scared you would alert anyone in your house that you were there and something bad would ensue. The fae lights in your hallway were all lit, softly casting a warm glow over your home. You stepped inside, and instead of your foot meeting the usual plush of your carpet it was met with a slight crunch.

Casting your eyes to the ground you gasped. There were hundreds of rose petals scattered across your floor, leading towards each of your rooms. Following the trail, you made it through to the entrance of your living room, if your jaw dropped any lower you were sure it’d hit the floor.

The entire room looked as if it had been covered in a red blanket, a sea of roses covering the entirety of your room to the point where you couldn’t actually see anything that wasn’t a deep shade of red.

By this point your heart was pounding in your chest and you were sure you could feel your eyes watering, the hundreds of roses placed around you getting blurrier and blurrier. But there was no sign of the man you were sure had placed them.

Turning around you sped into each of your rooms, wanting nothing more than to find Cassian and throw your arms around him. Each room the same as the last, filled to the brim with the most beautiful roses. Lillies may once have been your favourite flowers but you think the kind-hearted man, who had wormed his way into your heart, may have just changed your mind. Roses were perfect.

Still no Illyrian insight you flung open the door to your library. Room decorated just as over the top as the others. And there in the centre of it all, sat waiting for you to return home, is Cassian. He stood quickly, treading on some of the flowers placed by his feet.

“How?” You asked, voice cracking as you tried to hold the tears at bay.

“It wasn’t easy, Jadis let me in.” Cassian said lightheartedly from where he stood across the room, too far from you for your liking, “I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long. I wanted to do this the day after we last spoke but I guess I didn’t actually think about the logistics of getting thousands of roses delivered.”

You stayed silent, heart overwhelmingly filled with love for the man before you, the man who had spent the past week getting a thousand roses just to ask you on a date. Taking your silence for something bad, Cassian began to ramble, “My brother Azriel - the spymaster - he helped too…I wanted to make sure it’d be done in time. It’s a mess I get it, I’m sorry, I’ll clear it all out for you I just-“

You cut him off, tears now flowing freely down your red hot cheeks, hands trembling, “it’s perfect Cassian. Nobody…nobody has ever done anything like this for me” At the sign of your tears Cassian made to make his way towards you but was stopped by the fact he just didn’t know where to place his foot without ruining all his hard work.

“Clearly I didn’t think this through very well” he mumbled, arms out to keep him balanced and preventing him from falling. Not wanting to spend a minute more away from him after having to suffer through a whole week, you ran, roses be damned right into his arms. Throwing yourself at his muscled body as he caught you, pulling you close to his chest in midair.

“You’re crazy!” you exclaimed, head tucked into his neck as you rested it on his shoulder.

Cassian placed you down gently, arms still wrapped tightly around your waist but he wanted to look into your eyes for this, “your kind of crazy?” His eyes held that same hopeful desperation that they had when he last asked you out.

“Hell yeah” and with that you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and connected his lips to yours.

The kiss was like nothing you had ever read before in one of your books. It was everything and more. A fire ignited within you, burning hotter and hotter and you just kept needing more. Cassian the fuel to your fire and you were sure that as long as you had him with you it was a flame that would never die out.

It was a messy clash of teeth and tongues, both of you uncaring of how sloppily and uncoordinated were kissing. All you knew was you needed each other like the pages of a book needed ink. You kissed and you kissed, hands wandering until you weren’t sure which parts belonged to Cassian and which to yourself.

The need to breathe forgotten, you continued. Hands running over his back which was rippled in muscles before reaching around his neck, holding onto him tightly as he picked you up once more.

It was only when the need for air was so overwhelming that you had no other option to pull away that you did. Heads pressed together, lips still slightly touching, a trail of saliva linking the two of you together. Cassian continued to hold you in his arms as if you were nothing but a feather, catching his breath he finally began to speak, “So about that date then?”

You giggled, pulling him even closer to you by his neck and laying a soft peck on his lips before drawing away to give your answer, Cassian’s mouth chasing after yours, “If this is how you ask me, I can’t wait to see what you have planned for our first date. Hopefully you don’t ignore me for a month whilst you prepare.”

Barking out a laugh Cassian placed you on the floor of roses, holding your hands to ensure you didn’t stumble. He looked around the room, proud smile adorning his face, he first took in the roses which he had took so long in prepping, screaming at Azriel when he hadn’t placed them down as he had pictured in his head. His gaze then swept your shelves, hundreds of books upon them.

“Ever read about this in one of your books?”

“Nope this is definitely a first”

His eyes landed on the book resting on your table, right next to the vase full of lilies he had originally given you, title in gold lettering along the front of the cover. Fated Frenzy. The book he had read because of you. You laughed as you spotted what he was staring at, his eyes travelling back to you, running up your body with hunger before finally settling on your eyes.

“You into roleplay gorgeous?”

With those words he smashed his lips back onto yours. The promise of an exciting night ahead.

Here, standing in your library entwined with the Illyrian you decided all those characters you have read about were lacking in one thing you never even knew you needed.

They weren’t Cassian.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: You have no idea how much I wanted to finish this fic with “And so Cassian did” lol

Happy Valentines <3

[destinationtrekk]

Well I've been going a bit... Unhinged lately; and the umbrella reader prompt gave me a few... Ideas

Umbrella reader who fell first for wesker? In the whole yandere-ish way? Like "I have an entire scrapbook dedicated to him" way???

oh man this is a good one. cut added bc it ended up much longer than i expected

you’ve been working at umbrella for a while, you’re no longer just a rookie assistant. You’re in charge of your own lab and techs, and they actually like you, which makes manipulating them a lot easier

everyone knows who Dr. Wesker is. And i mean everyone. There isn’t a soul in the building, in the entire company, who doesn’t either shiver or scowl at his name. He’s umbrella’s golden child, after all, especially since Birkin went and got himself killed.

he is not known for being friendly, but he was never cruel to you, at least. Nowadays he’s out making deals and monsters so his time in the actual labs are rare, so every moment you see him is like a miracle from god.

you notice everything about him in these days. The cut of his trousers, how much gel is in his hair, which pair of sunglasses he’s wearing (no one except you even realizes he has different pairs - seven of them, to be exact). You even count his breaths when you’re both in the same lab and one of the assistants is pissing him off (he actually breathes slower when he’s angry, like it takes every ounce of focus to keep his composure)

this is when you think things might be getting out of hand. You’ve gotten yourself into quite a situation. You’re thinking about him constantly - in traffic on the way to work (he drives an unmarked, pristine black sports car), when you’re hunched over your desk working (he actually wears headphones when he’s using a microscope, you noticed he doesn’t like the sound of the slides clicking), when you’re cooking dinner (he never eats during his shifts, and he scowls at anyone who isn’t using a napkin in the break room) - even when you’re showering, all you can do is remember the smooth scent of his air when he walks past you.

you’re certain you know everything about him now. Even his cologne. A few weeks ago he leaned over your shoulder to correct one of your equations, his voice quiet and void of any emotion, and before he stepped away you got a solid breath of his expensive cologne - subtle, woodsy, deep, intoxicating. You went home and spent half the night looking up the undertones of every single obscure cologne you could find, because no way was it cheap or popular, until you found what you think was the right one

(you order it and a week later, you’re elated to find you were correct. Now your entire bed smells like him)

you make your move on a Tuesday. The entire lab had been whispering about annual reviews, Wesker would be conducting them himself since the other supervisors were busy. A few weeks earlier you had seen his coffee cup in the trash and memorized his order (ew, but you had big plans) and you had left a perfect cup of coffee on his desk before he arrived, conveniently walking past him in the halls just a few minutes later and flashing your most charming smile. He actually smiled back

later that day he leaned over your shoulder again, mouth brushing your ear and hand next to yours on your desk, and his voice was pure sin.

“My office, Doctor, three o’clock. I think we have a few things to discuss.”

needless to say, the two of you are inseparable after that

[sorcerous-caress]

Bad at sex | Sorn Orlith

[ Smut, crack treated seriously, AFAB Reader ]

I am not sorry, enjoy.

There you stood, in the middle of the twin's room as you took in the decorations that clearly resembled the underdark. They had a certain charm to them despite how on the nose they tend to be.

"Now, how do you want to do this?" With his arms crossed and a sinful smile on his face, Sorn waited patiently in front of you amidst the various mushroom covered walls.

You know what you came here for, it's why it was so easy to depart with the hefty sum of 500 gold.

Taking a step closer, Sorn looked at you with tantalising half lidded eyes as he straightened his posture, putting his full lean body on display to entice you.

With confidence that rivalled the gods, you spoke. "missionary with the lights off"

Sorn's sexy facade fell as he stared at you, it was a reaction you had anticipated.

What you didn't foresee however, was how it was almost instantly replaced with an air of passion and excitement as the biggest grin crossed his face.

"Oh you don't know how long it's been since I got to do that." There was a giddy nature to his speech as he uncrossed his arms.

First night

"Like an old married couple" is the frame of reference you gave to him.

He played the role perfectly, as if it was his true calling in all those years.

Yes, it must have been his destiny to play the part of a very sexually unskilled husband. Judging by the limp grasp against your chest, not quite squeezing nor fondling, just sitting there and making you sweat the more it prolonged.

Or maybe it was the utter and complete ignoring of your clit, as if the poor thing never existed.

Your role as he put it, was to lazily lay on the bed and not contribute a single thing to the whole experience.

So you laid there, legs parted and arms free to not do anything, maybe pick at the stray lint from the pillows under your head.

It's barely been ten minutes and yet the cock pumping inside of you is still going at the same unsteady and uneven pace, not even a hint of rhythm to its movement as it simply plunged in and out of your hole.

You weren't even close to the beginning of the beginning of an orgasm.

"Oh kitten, yes!!" The drow above you moaned his heart out with every unfulfilling thrust, his face in utter bliss as he declared how bad you were at this, how this might just be the most boring sex he has ever had.

And just like how it suddenly began, it suddenly ended with a groan and an uncomfortable squeeze on your behind that wasn't sure of itself.

When he pulled out, he immediately collapsed next to you. Skin glistening with sweat as he seemed to beam and flourish in the aftermath of your joined flapping around in bed, there was a glow to his face and stray hair strands framed his face making it look even more angelic.

His eyes met yours, there was a genuine spark in them.

You could tell he had the time of his life.

As you left Sorn to regain his energy, you were handed one of those review pamphlets just before you exited sharess's caress.

"It's a performance review, you can leave some notes or a tip if it was more than satisfactory" you were told.

Night summary: 2.5/10, didn't orgasm. Will be coming back + 30% tip excluding tax.

Second Night

"First oral experience between a sheltered couple in a barn" was your frame of reference.

That's how you ended up on the uncomfortable floor with merely a few scattered plastic leaves to imitate the scenery.

Sorn had a determined look in his eyes, as he got on his knees in front of you and parted your legs, he took a second to study and observe your private parts.

…okay the second might have stretched on for a bit too long, a full minute of silent uninterrupted blatant staring was more accurate.

And from the faux confused look on his face, he was really doing the role justice.

Finally he reached down, no not with his hand or even finger, he dove in head first.

A spark of hope ignited inside of you at the sight of his eager tongue, maybe just maybe he'd accidentally brush your clit with it.

You closed your eyes and leaned your head back, as you felt wetness sweeping across your core.

Here it comes.

Sorn paid very close attention to your….Vulva.

You opened your eyes as the eager tongue seemed very keen on licking and stroking your exterior skin, not even taking an accidental dip into your labia or anything.

Just full on licking the outside of your pussy.

He avoided your clit, of course he did, even with his face buried between your thighs, he still held an unnerving amount of precision to his movement.

You played with his hair until he finished his meal, not in a tender and sweet way but in a "this is the only thing I can fiddle with right now" way. It was surprisingly soft, you made a mental note to ask him about what conditioner he uses.

When Sorn eventually came up, he was breathless with a deep hunger in his eyes, as if he just ate the best meal of his entire life.

"Kitten you spoil me so much" he groaned as he got up from his knees, his cock erect and leaking from the previous display of the lack of passion no doubt.

He continued. "Take my milk kitten, be bad and make sure to use lots of teeth, make my cock have the worst experience in a mouth ever."

You obliged. Mimicking his technique, your lips parted as you sucked onto the tip of his cock, accidentally bumping your front teeth against it on the first try.

His hand went down to stroke his cock, leaving very little space for you to actually take in your mouth as he successfully made this interaction the most awkward it could be.

You kissed the smooth tip, giving soft kitten licks at the shaft and teasing the opening slit with your tongue. It must have been too good for his liking because he pulled his cock away.

Should the disappointed look on his face at your bad performance at being bad in bed, be considered a compliment or an insult?

Ready to attune for your sins, your look of determination didn't go unnoticed by him as you pulled his hand away from his cock.

You took a deep breath.

Then fully enveloped it in your mouth, taking it all the way back to the base, forcing your gag reflex to activate.

In mere seconds you were a coughing mess on his cock. And from the goosebumps on his body you could tell he didn't enjoy the experience of having a jaw filled with sharp teeth contracting around his shaft.

Perfect.

When the urge to almost throw up was too strong to ignore, you pulled away and looked up at him.

He had a lovestruck look on his face as his cock was left ignored.

Night summary: 1.5/10, neither of us orgasmed, will definitely come back again + 40% tip excluding tax.

-

Chapter Two:

[insomniumstella]

spite her, spite me (7) | bucky x avenger!reader

summary: Steve’s silly joke happened to inspire the best, or possibly the worst, idea Wanda had ever come up with — send James Buchanan Barnes and y/n on an all-expenses-paid honeymoon in Hawaii. the problem? they cannot stand to be around each other.

warnings: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, explicit language, alcohol consumption, sarcastic!bucky, smut MDI

word count: 8,485

author's note: i cannot believe we reached the end — thank you for all of the comments and the love you've showed this series, it truly means the world! also, i don't know how the nsfw section stretched to be over 2k words and now i'm rethinking every smutty fic i've ever written

WHERE DREAMS GO TO DIE masterlist

series’ SPOTIFY playlist

“The dress is a bit much,” the sergeant’s eyes raked over her gown. 

The intricately beaded dress was black, and sensual, and outrageous, with a deep slit, which exposed most of y/n’s upper thigh. She might’ve seemed like an angel in devil’s clothing to those of unsuspecting eyes, but James understood better. The woman was a fallen saint, and as he committed the image to memory, he had decided that she was placed on this earth solely to tempt him in every way she could. Their story was never destined to be comforting, and easy, no, the story of James and y/n would always be difficult, complex, and shamefully sinful. 

“It seems Maui had been harsh on you, James,” she spoke, “otherwise you wouldn’t be here.” 

The cool touch of his metal arm brushed against y/n’s skin when he took a step forward, coming to stand beside her. It was bothersome, the closeness of his body as they observed the gala’s guests unsuspectingly dancing, drinking, or conversing about matters they had deemed important.

There was only a single matter on her mind y/n considered meaningful, and she had not seen him for the entirety of the night. Steve had been a nimble shadow, shaking hands with the leaders and first ladies of the world. 

“Perhaps, I was wrong,” the word felt foreign on his tongue, “and HYDRA ceased to exist.”

She angled her face to read his expression, but it was aggravatingly blank, “how’d you figure that out, Sherlock?” 

James noticed the sarcasm in her tone and nearly chose to ignore it, “reviewed some files, checked a couple databases,” possibly hacked into Sam’s iCloud to read the texts between you two. "Have any more theories you’d like to share?” 

She chuckled, then chuckled again from the bewilderment before breaking into a boisterous laugh; it couldn’t have been more disingenuous if she tried. “Why should I if the Winter Soldier will only trample on my ideas?” 

Though the dimly lit ballroom overflowed with chatter and soft sounds of jazz, a tense stillness settled between them. The looming threat of Steve’s assassination was not a time for games and stubbornness, and James was frustrated at the spy’s thorny attitude. 

“The Winter Soldier was blinded by bloodlust, but he’s ready to hear out his partner,” Bucky replied with a deep sigh, hoping she’d crack.

“Oh, we’re partners now?” The clench of his jaw didn’t go unnoticed, and she begrudgingly dropped the act. “Back when we attended Elijah’s yacht party, Mark was wary of you hence the fish tend to be vigilant around James comment. I might forget a name, but I always remember a face.” This time, she angled her entire body to face him. “Mark attended a gala in Germany a couple years prior, Steve had me monitoring the security cameras for hours then, and nothing was particularly interesting except for Mark and Wilfred Nagel’s unlikely friendship.” 

“Shit,” his flesh arm clasped around her forearm, “ Nagel’s the doctor CIA had recruited before he seemingly disappeared into thin air.” 

“Bingo,” she replied with a popping sound. “The accusations against Elijah, Mark’s presence on the boat, and the conversation between him and Wilfred months before Wilfred’s disappearance had me conceptualizing a theory of Mark and Elijah working alongside Nagel to produce super-soldiers.” A server boy approached the couple, and she promptly replaced her empty champagne flute with a fresh glass. “I’d assume Captain America would ruin those plans." 

“The theory’s still blurry,” James released the grip on her arm, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles of his black suit. “If they’re plotting to execute Steve, why wouldn’t they assassinate me as well?”

She drank him in — the sergeant’s black suit was made of satin, alike the dress shirt, matching her onyx gown. Perhaps he had willingly chosen to abstain from a tie, or perhaps, he had been too headstrong to admit she had been correct about HYDRA, subjecting James to a lack of time for elaborate preparations. She decided it must’ve been the latter, for Bucky had worn the outfit to a party Natasha had organized after the court had pardoned his crimes. 

“They could,” she agreed, “but they wouldn’t because you’ve been forgiven and have since retired, remember? The Winter Soldier enjoys a peaceful life away from criminals, Avengers, and fights.” 

“The sucker has a wife too,” James gawked into y/n’s eyes, and she tittered at his attempt at a joke. “She looks good tonight.” 

The glimmer in his expression she couldn’t understand.

She took a swig of champagne, peering at James over the flute for a single awkward moment too long, “was that a compliment?” 

“It should’ve been,” he pursed his lips together. 

James was allowed to feel frustrated, angry, and disappointed about y/n’s actions, he had decided after she had packed up and hastily abandoned the honeymoon. The woman had betrayed him by hiding significant information and biting her tongue on theories of HYDRA and its remains. Worse, she had fled Maui without as much as a goodbye, leaving James to sleep in the bed, angrily alone. Though his appetite had been ruined, he had chosen to order room service and watch terrible TV shows she had recommended to Wanda in the prior months. The sheets had been tainted with the scent of y/n’s perfume and lotion, a delicious blend of strawberry and vanilla. The Lovers’ Suite had been scattered with traces of her, and when he had ditched the room at last, deep into the night, even the beach had seemed to remind James of the bizarre yet pleasant memories they had shared. He wouldn’t have admitted it out loud, but he had begun missing y/n’s presence, prickly remarks, and the pointless arguments over the smallest of things. 

“Steve’s backstage," Sam’s voice was a muffled sound through the earpiece. 

She took a step forward, using Bucky’s body to shield herself from possibly prying eyes. “What about Mark Basso?” 

James paled at the closeness of their bodies, but remained professional, examining the ballroom of feasible threats. 

“I can’t find him, the dude’s been a ghost for the entire night, but,” there was a pause in his speech, “Elijah Williamson is backstage,” she could hear Sam drum his fingers on a metal surface, “they’ve been conversing for a good while.” A second passed before his words reached y/n’s ears once more. “Are you certain Mark’s appearance at the party is enough to incarcerate him?”

The woman recognized she should inform Sam of the situation without excluding certain details, and yet she couldn’t. If Sam understood the gravity of Elijah’s gala plans, he’d abandon monitoring the security cameras and would certainly place himself in danger to save the Captain. She needed the footage of the events that were to occur backstage, for she had already deceived James, allowing the soldier to believe HYDRA continued to exist. 

The eight months they had spent together, unraveling Elijah’s life, had been honest, on y/n’s part, but the last five days had not. James had pursued false leads and theories, and she had let him. Sam might punish her with a harsh lecture, move to live on Natasha’s floor or stop coming to Friday’s Tequila Nights at Barry’s if he discovered y/n’s incomplete truths, but it’d be worth it, for he’d be in the security room in case Mark had planned to delete the footage. James deserved peace, and she craved to ease his mind two criminals at a time. A former HYDRA officer and a corrupt politician behind bars was a good start to rid of the nasty organization and its remains. 

“The man’s a HYDRA operative,” she reminded, clutching James’ hand to lead him through the crowd of guests, “who just happens to be identified as deceased,” y/n maneuvered around people, dodging staff members and unsuspecting bystanders, “imagine the headlines and the public’s fear when it’ll get revealed the US government missed a dead man walking after the program to incarcerate security threats was implemented.” A corrupt program for a corrupt country. “President Ross would imprison Mark just to save face.”

The pair soon found themselves backstage. The stage was narrow much like the hallways, and though the space had plenty of overhead LED lights, it was painted a pitch-black color, and the confusing maze of corridors, entrances, and clothing racks seemed rather murky. She hauled James into the women’s bathroom and hurriedly locked the door. The soldier had seen women dragging men into bathrooms at clubs and parties. He was old, but he wasn’t dead — James understood what a couple would do in a bathroom together hence his confusion and reddened cheeks. 

She raked her eyes over his face, “we’re not having sex, Barnes.” 

“Is it because Steve needs saving or,” the smallest of smirks danced on his lips as James observed y/n step on the toilet to open a vent, “is it because you want our first time to be special?” Amusement colored his tone. 

She threw a miffed glare toward him before continuing to rummage in the outlet, “do you actually believe I burn with lust for you?” 

“Yes,” Bucky caught a pale yellow gym bag after she tossed it at him, “surely did during the honeymoon.” 

“We’ll always have Maui,” she smiled with faux sweetness, stepping off the toilet and on the sparkling white tiles. 

The smirk dropped from his lips at the comment because he had been open, honest then, and she just teased him about it. If time allowed for it, she might’ve apologized, guilt beginning to claw at her heart, but she ignored the strange emotion. 

“Sam,” she pressed a finger on the earpiece before squatting down to search in the sack, “James is with me,” y/n found an additional earpiece, standing up and taking a step forward to gently attach the gadget onto the soldier, “do you have eyes on Steve?” 

“Yes,” the Falcon murmured, audibly upset by Bucky’s presence. “James, hi,” he spoke through the intercom, “y/n, didn’t you say you'd leave the tin-man in Hawaii?”

“Obviously, I failed,” she replied, earning a soft smack from James on the shoulder, “when does the charity auction start?” 

“It should begin in fifteen minutes,” Sam spoke, inspecting the view on the monitors, “an incredible date with Amelie Barnes, a gorgeous New York City socialite, is fifth on the list to be auctioned, seven offers before the old-fashioned date with the handsome Captain America.”

She glanced up at James, studying his bewildered expression. “There might be a few things you’ve missed,” y/n grinned in faux innocence before promptly clarifying, "we needed access to the backstage areas. Do you have a gun?” 

“No,” James begrudgingly admitted, ashamed to have missed a crucial detail in his attire. 

The pair stood in front of each other without a sliver of space in between. She didn’t give herself a minute to think the action through, resting her hands on his chest as she hastily lowered into a squatting position to reach the bag. James sucked in a breath as y/n’s hands slid across the length of his body. She rested a single palm on his upper thigh for balance while she retrieved a set of pistols, but just before his mind had enough time to register the sudden stimulation, she arose, clutching his flesh bicep to steady herself. 

“Tuck it into the waistba—“

“Alright,” James interrupted her, “I’ve done this before.” 

She let go of his shoulder, taking a step backward. “There’s no need to be rude,” y/n shrugged. 

“I’m not being rude,” he rebuffed the comment, “just worried about where you’re planning to hide the gun.” 

A slight smile waltzed on her lips as she pushed the bottom of her gown aside, faintly exposing lacy onyx panties and a holster. James choked, once, at the obscenity of her response. 

“I’ve done this before,” she teased him, “sergeant.”

The charity auction had been a distant thought until she was standing on the stage with dozens of eyes upon her. She could hear the voice of the auction's host, describing the date she’d be forced to attend and the chatter of middle-aged men, hoping to secure the evening with Amelie Barnes, but y/n could only focus on searching for Mark in the crowd.

Nancy wouldn’t have lied to someone about Elijah and Mark’s wicked plans because the lawyer had zero motives to deceive a person she trusted. At least the woman hoped Nancy trusted whoever it had been on the other side of the phone because her whole plan revolved around Mark’s appearance at the gala. She’d never wish for Steve’s untimely death, but she did wish for the HYDRA operative and the politician to be caught on camera as they attempted to eliminate him.

“Let’s start the bidding at a thousand dollars,” the host announced, and she swallowed the lump of nerves in her throat.

A man on the left side of the ballroom raised his bid paddle. He seemed utterly too old to take y/n out on a date, and she shivered at the possibility.

The host beside y/n smiled, peeking at her. “We have a thousand, can we get more?”

“Two thousand!”

“Three thousand!”

“Five thousand dollars!”

She could barely register the number of voices, each interrupting the next to outbid the other.

A woman, close enough to the stage that she could see her face, raised the paddle. “Ten thousand dollars!”

“Ten thousand dollars for the woman in a green gown,” the presenter spoke cheerfully. “Amelie loves art galleries and tennis at The River Club of New York!” He encouraged the guests to aim higher. “The woman’s a real good company."

What the fuck did Sam tell them?

If she had ever thought that time spent in James Buchanan Barnes’ proximity must have been the worst thing the world could possibly offer, which she often would, she had been wrong. She was a spy, she had undoubtedly used her appearance to obtain certain information or opportunities on missions before, but the auction caused goosebumps to waltz on her skin — to be suppressed into an object, the perfect accessory for a date night, was one of the worst emotions she had ever experienced. 

James stood in the back, observing her panic-riddled expression. She had forgotten Tony’s credit card in Maui on accident, and though Tony would skin him alive if he spent as much as a dime on it, Tony and James had never been close buddies, so what further damage could his impending action legitimately cause if the damage of the two’s past had already been irreversible.

“Fifteen thousand dollars,” James raised the bidding paddle, grinning at y/n.

She stood on the stage perplexed at the sound of Bucky’s voice, frantically searching for his face in the sea of people.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we just got our highest bid of the night! Fifteen thousand dollars for the man in the back going in one, two, th-“

“Thirty grand for the man in blue.” A deep voice reverberated through the room.

She abandoned her search for James, locking her gaze on Mark. The spy had inspected the crowd once, then had inspected it for a second time, and the agent had not been comfortably sitting at a nearby table, peering at her through the top of his champagne flute. Mark must have sneaked in, which signified that either Steve was already dead or Elijah was waiting for Mark backstage, conversing with Captain America before commencing the plan of a brutal murder.

“Forty,” James challenged, studying in which direction y/n’s disgusted glance pointed.

“Fifty thousand,” Mark announced before the host had a chance to say anything, continuing to scrutinize her. The agent’s smile was cocky, overconfident, almost as if she was the victim and he was the hunter; as if he had discovered y/n’s deepest and darkest of secrets.

“Fifty thousand going in one, two—“

“A hundred thousand dollars,” James yelled, interrupting the ghost, and maneuvered to stand by the stage.

Silence settled upon the room at the sheer absurdity of his proposed bid. The truth was, the sergeant had spoken before he could think because the world, at that moment, had not existed outside the gala. She was standing on the platform, the glitter in her special lotion, as she’d describe it, glimmering underneath the fiery spotlight. She was clad in an opulent gown, dripping in pearlescent onyx beads and intricate patterns. She was reduced to nothing but an object in the auction, a good company auction's participants could purchase. 

She, the woman who’d never become a friend, for he’d always crave to be her lover. 

The spy averted her piercing gaze away from Mark and glanced at James. Concern was visibly displayed in his eyes, yet his grin, sweet and playful to steady her nerves, remained. A corner of her mouth quirked up, and she mouthed a silent thank you. James was attempting to outbid every person in the room to save y/n from a terrible date, and he was willing to do it in understanding that Tony would lecture, if not evict, him. 

The moment shattered as she returned her eyes to Mark, and her expression turned deadly. The spy might have played the role of an obedient, pleasant wife and woman on Elijah’s boat, but it was apparent he had acquired some kind of insight into who she verily was. It was useless to pretend she desired to be friends with Mark, a positively unsuspicious Elijah’s friend, who just happened to surprisingly specialize in foreign weaponry. 

“This is shockingly incredible,” the host trumpeted in amazement, pausing for a second, “a hundred thousand dollars for the man in the satin suit going in one, two, three.” Mark basked in the daggers she sent toward him, sipping on his second glass of champagne as James glided onto the stage, clasping y/n’s fingers in his gloved hand, and placed a chaste kiss on her knuckles. “The date with Amelie Barnes has just been sold to the guy in a lovely suit,” James and y/n exchanged amused looks at the host’s comment, “but don’t abandon your seats just yet ladies and gentlemen, because up next we have a cooking lesson at Daniel with the beautiful chef Olivia Stroud.”

“Thank you,” she softly acknowledged his sacrifice at the auction, "for what you did back there."

The pair hid behind heavy velvet curtains, a hairsbreadth away from each other, occasionally peaking through the crack to inspect the limited backstage area for Mark or Elijah. It slightly resembled a room suited for rehearsals, mimicking the layout of the ballroom and the stage on a lesser scale. The space was cluttered and messy, with tangles of cords littering the floor and racks of clothing lining the walls.

A date with Steve was the last to be auctioned before the break, establishing the perfect opportunity to catch him off-guard and without innocent eyes around to witness the gory sight of Captain America’s murder.

James smiled, shyly almost. “I couldn’t allow myself to watch and do nothing while creepy old men fought over a chance to spend time with Amelie,” he teased, adjusting a fallen strap of y/n’s gown, “my hatred for you doesn’t stretch that deep.”

Heat crawled up her neck and onto her cheeks. “Bucky, you are an old man,” the woman teased, “perhaps not creepy, but weird? Absolutely.” 

“I’m not weird,” he argued, suppressing a smile, “you eat ice cream with pickles for toppings.” 

False shock stained the edges of y/n’s expression, “it was one time, and I only tried it because Pepper affirmed it was the most delicious thing she had ever eaten.”

“Pepper was pregnant,” he reminded playfully, earning a light smack on the shoulder.

The two Avengers swiftly switched into vigilant agents at the sudden squeak of the door. It was Mark, who entered the room first, scanning over the area for unwanted people. Steve appeared in the room seconds later, an arm resting on Elijah’s shoulders as he vehemently laughed at something the politician had mentioned.

It would’ve taken a fool to miss the obvious problem at hand. 

Steve was seldom intoxicated. She’d know, for she had spent too many gatherings attempting to outdrink the man without real success. Thor’s Asgardian mead was deadly to mortals but pleasantly kind to gods and super-soldiers alike. Earthly alcohol, contrariwise, was harsh on him; the taste delectable, the effects on Steve’s modified human body meager. 

It abruptly struck y/n — guns signified blood, plenty of it, and an operative smart enough to fabricate files of his supposed status as deceased wouldn’t be reckless and leave a plash of evidence in the backstage area of a charity gala’s ballroom. 

“Good news,” Sam’s voice echoed in the pair’s ears, “I have eyes on Steve,” he paused briefly, “bad news, Mark Basso and Elijah Williamson are plaguing the Captain.”

James opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him by placing a tender finger on his lips. “Sam, how closely were you monitoring the security cameras?”

It was a simple question she hoped the Falcon wouldn’t take offense to. 

He did. 

“I was observing the monitors like a hawk, y/n.” 

She refrained against an unnecessary comment and focused on the task, “and the video has audio?” 

“Yes.”

She took a step forward, closing the barely existent gap between them, “Elijah and Mark must’ve spiked his drink,” y/n hushedly whispered, circling a hand around James’ waist to touch the handgun she had provided. 

The pistol was securely tucked into the waistband of his trousers, and the sergeant cocked his head to the side. I’ve been on missions before, the glimmer in his eyes stated, and she could sense the early stages of his frustration, I didn’t accidentally drop it or nothin’. 

“At any point, did you notice Steve drinking a whiskey he had not ordered himself?” 

“Alright,” Sam clicked his tongue, “so I might not have an answer to that particular question, but I can say that Steve went into the bathroom twenty minutes ago, and his face seemed quite pale.” 

James placed a finger on the gadget, “did anyone accompany him?” 

“Yes, a line of beautiful ladies,” the Falcon responded, and James could nearly visualize Sam rolling his eyes in annoyance. 

The two men bickered some more, but she had tuned out the conversation, studying the scene onward. Everyone has a tell, y/n recalled. Though Steve’s words regarded lies and treacheries, the advice had not yet lost its meaning. It had been New Year’s Eve when she had gotten a nasty infection and had forgone Thor’s mead due to antibiotics. The compound’s residents had partaken in a friendly drinking competition then, and Steve had sworn the alcohol couldn’t exhilarate him, except his eyes had been droopy, and he had clutched James’ biceps for balance. 

Steve leaned on Mark, his laugh far less joyous than it had been before, so perhaps Nancy had been wrong, and they had not planned to eliminate him at the gala, but rather drug the Captain, sneakily transporting his unconscious body to a place, devoid of prying glances and curious endeavors. She wondered whether Elijah would linger in the room until the poison took its course. It’d be easier to carry dead weight, for Steve might fight against the operation.

The plan was meticulously calculated except for a single nuance. Why would the two men bring Steve into the backstage area in the first place if they could’ve used the narrow hallways and hidden exits to sneak out?

“We should slaughter Wilfred.” Mark spoke as if answering y/n’s concerns. “I specifically told Nagel he cannot be late.”

“It’s a slight blunder,” Elijah replied, oblivious to the surroundings, and the woman behind the velvet material, around him. Steve was barely awake. “We have Rogers and a bit of time before he’s supposed to appear on stage.” 

It was impossible to ignore James’ piercing eyes, and she hastily peeped at him. “Do we wait?” 

And she craved to have the correct response to his question, but, despite her usual confidence during missions, she didn’t have an answer. James had allowed her to lead, and she felt as if she was disappointing him, lingering behind a curtain as the Captain, a friend, clutched the very enemies they wished to incarcerate. The only thing y/n understood in great certainty was that Steve���s body couldn’t leave the premises of the establishment. 

“Did you see Mark or Elijah on the phone at any point in the night?” 

“Mark was a ghost,” Sam’s voice crawled through her earpiece, “but I distinctly remember Elijah in a heated conversation. The man arrived at the gala with his wife, presumably, and scuttled away into a lonely corner soon after, which I found interesting.” 

The former HYDRA operative’s phone dinged, and she lowered her hands to reach for the gun strapped to her thigh. Steve’s dormant body nearly hit the ground as he lost consciousness, and Elijah slithered his hands under Steve’s armpits to support the Captain’s weight. The woman’s heart clenched at the sight, of her confidante resting against Elijah’s chest like a heavy sack of potatoes, entirely unresponsive to the situation.

“Let’s move,” Mark clasped his ankles, and the unlikely allies hoisted Steve’s figure, “Wilfred messaged he’s awaiting outside.”

She could only comprehend Elijah's high-pitched shriek that rang in her ears, silencing the laughs, chatter, and footsteps sneaking into the space from the ballroom. James was the first to abandon the secure hiding spot behind the curtain, pointing his gun at the man, a stern expression on his face. A couple seconds passed before she trailed after him, shoving a pistol into Mark’s back as a threat. Steve’s body caused a harsh crash sound when it hit the ground, but she could only concentrate on Sam and the amount of time it’d take him to reach the ballroom backstage from the van parked outside.

“On your knees,” y/n instructed, firmly thrusting the gun against his skin.

The operative lazily raised his arms, making no effort to do as she had requested. “Amelie Barnes,” he chuckled, “what a stupid alias,” the situation didn’t afford contemplations on how he could’ve realized she was more than a homemaker, “though I must admit, I almost fell for the lovebirds' act by the way you two basked in each other on the boat.” Mark’s tone was tainted with smugness. 

Elijah landed a painful punch on James’ jawline, and he staggered back at the surprise of the action before he straightened up and kneed him in the stomach. 

She drew in a breath, “you’re wrong.”

The operative ignored the politician and the fight he seemed to be losing, “am I?”

She jabbed the pistol into his muscled back once more, hands quivering at the unspoken confession; it swallowed the room, knocking the air out of her lungs. “Get down on your knees,” she spat the warning.  

“A dozen names,” he snickered, “and not a single true. Mindy Phillips, Tara Marvin, Katherine Bailey just to identify a few.” 

“This is the last time I’ll repeat myself, get down on your fucking knees.”

“C’mon, y/n,” he spoke, lowering his arms a bit, “we can come to an agreement that’d satisfy both of us.”

She froze at the mention. The curiosity almost lured her into the biggest mistake she could make — playing along. “Elijah and HYDRA’s golden agent behind bars is the only agreement I’d be delighted about.” 

Mark suddenly turned around, grasping one of y/n’s wrists, and she clobbered him across the head with the hand that was clutching the gun. He wobbled, momentarily, before he tackled her to the ground, thighs resting on either side of her own, and gripped y/n’s wrist once more. The gun landed by her, and she writhed in his hold to reach it, but it was useless. Mark harshly pinned her arms above her hand, leaning in so close she could feel his disgustingly hot breath upon the skin of her neck.

He snickered, grazing the top of her ear with his lips, “we could’ve worked together,” Mark lightly nipped at the sensitive spot, “could’ve been a real good team.”

She found his eyes, amused and eerily hungry, and spat in his face, “fuck you.”

Mark laughed, but before he could sputter another comment, James was pouncing on the agent, resting his entire weight on him just as Mark had done to y/n, mercilessly pummeling the flesh of his upper body.

She averted her gaze from the bloody sight, searching for Elijah. The politician was sprawled out on the cement floor, by Steve’s feet, unconscious. A huge gash tainted his bottom lip, and purple had begun tinting his cheekbones. She glimpsed at James and the small cuts that adorned his handsome face; Elijah must’ve stricken a few great hits before the sergeant had stunned him cold.

Sam barged through the door. Besides the Falcon, she was the only person in the room without visible injuries, though her joints ached from the pressure Mark had used to clutch them.

“I called reinforcement,” he spoke, kicking her gun to a corner Mark couldn’t reach.

“Care to help?” Bucky’s teasing comment amidst a fight was almost comforting.

Sam rolled his eyes, joining James in the scuffle with the agent. She focused on Steve, crawling to his dormant body. Though it was dreadfully faint, his heartbeat remained. It was difficult to raise the top half of his weight, yet y/n succeeded, supporting his neck and shoulders as she inspected the back of his head for damage. She gasped silently, noticing that the blonde of his hair had been stained red. The split in his skin wasn’t deep enough to be profoundly alarming, but it'd require stitches. Speedily, she checked the time on his watch, creating a mental note, and lowered his figure to rummage in his pockets for a cell phone. The Captain’s head she placed upon her folded legs.

The woman’s fingers trembled as she typed in the emergency number. In the years they had worked together, never had Steve fallen unconscious, nor had he obtained a gaping gash in the back of his scalp. Elijah and Mark must've given him an alarmingly high dose of tranquilizer to knock the super-soldier out entirely, and she was scared.

The two Avengers had handcuffed Mark when the call between y/n and the local emergency service had ended. The operator’s voice has been soothing and calm, and she had turned the iPhone off feeling far more composed than she had been when she made it.

“An ambulance should be here in a few minutes.”

“That was quite dramatic,” Mark noted, a weak chuckle slipping past his lips, “Steve ingested sedatives, not poison.”

James placed a gun to his temple, and Sam planted a hand on the sergeant’s shoulder, “don’t engage him,” the Falcon advised, turning to y/n, “did you know?” 

She recognized Sam’s true question was did you know they planned to kill Steve?

“Yes,” she averted her gaze to observe Steve, “I’m sorry.” The spy was genuinely apologetic for hiding certain information. 

Sam drew in a deep breath, pursing his lips together, “why wouldn’t you tell me?” 

“I needed you to monitor the security cameras,” she answered truthfully, “I needed someone to transfer the footage into our database,” the explanation was honest once more, “I was afraid Mark or Elijah would attempt to tamper with it.”

“She was right, we had a whole plan 'n' everything,” Mark chimed in, and James pushed him down to his knees.

He sighed in frustration, the pistol lingering in its position against Mark’s skin, “stay fucking quiet, asshole.”

The Falcon ignored the commotion in the background, his expression strained as he continued to stare at her, “you should’ve told us.”

The statement disintegrated into thin air, the weight of it still heavy on her shoulders. She stayed silent, brushing away the sweaty pieces of hair that had stuck to Steve’s forehead. His face was eerily peaceful as he rested, unconscious, on the cement floor, head propped on y/n’s thighs. The gown Sam had chosen for the evening was sprinkled with blood in various spots, albeit the dark color disguised it. It was gorgeous and elegant, she’d admit, but it was destined to burn after the events that had unfolded during the gala.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, her voice drained of emotion.

“The two of you should return to the hotel,” Sam suggested when a group of FBI officers spilled into the room, “shower, eat, rest. I have zero doubts it’s been an exhausting week,” he half-heartedly joked, referring to the faux honeymoon, “I’ll stay with Steve.” 

“Sam,” she spoke, “we want t—“

“Go,” the Falcon interrupted her, “please,” one of the officers firmly hoisted Mark, and James swiftly reached y/n’s kneeling figure, “I got this.” The tone of his voice had whispers of irritation at its edges. 

“Alright,” she agreed, helping a paramedic transfer Steve’s body onto a stretcher, “I trust you.” 

Sam glanced at James, shoving his hands into his pockets, and returned his eyes to y/n. “Good.” The look they exchanged was strangely comforting, the kind of look that conveyed Sam wasn’t angry, per se, but rather vanquished, and disappointment she could deal with. 

She offered him a weak smile, “I should shower.”

The Falcon chuckled, mouthing a silent go, and turned his focus to James, both of you. 

James stood in the hotel room’s doorway.

She was fidgeting with lavish jewels, her patience stretching thin as the necklace’s clasp remained closed despite y/n’s nimble fingers attempting to work it open. She glanced at him, once, before regaining focus. “Why are you here?”

The sergeant shrugged, though she couldn’t see it. “I forgot to book a hotel room.”

She ceased her movements, observing his awkwardness-laden body language. James’ long-forgotten suit jacket dangled over his bent arm, the other hand shoved into the pocket of his satin trousers.

“May I suggest driving back to the compound?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up into a small grin at y/n’s thorny response, “we’re in the middle of Manhattan, and the compound is a three-hour drive away.” James closed the heavy wooden door, locking it behind him. “Can I stay with you?”

“It seems you’ve answered the question before I had the chance,” she referenced the action, staring at him in forged disbelief.

The atmosphere stilled in a pregnant pause. It wouldn’t be harmless for the couple to sleep in the same bed. They had done it in Maui, and neither her skin had broken out in a rash nor had she perished. On the contrary, it was peaceful to relish in the warmth of his skin.

James dumped the jacket on an empty chair, slowly coming to stand in front of the woman. She could almost hear the thumping of his heart, his body a hairbreadth away. Sirens echoed outside the sealed window, saturating the silence in crimson sounds. New York City contrasted with the lush green of upstate New York. The living quarters at the compound were usually deprived of clamor, protected against harsh winds and white noise by thick cement walls. 

“Let me help you,” James cooed, sliding his hands across the skin of her arms upward. The soft pads of his fingers caressed her collarbone before he grasped the necklace’s clasp and easily worked it open. “We could be great together,” he spoke, turning to gently place the diamond choker on a glass desk, “great partners,” her fingers ghosted over the spots James had touched, “great lovers,” he toyed with the idea. 

The sergeant returned to his previous place and, “great lovers,” she teased, “you think we could fit together?” 

“Mmmh,” he concurred, “but we always extinguish the flame before it truly burns.”

She brushed her hands across the smooth fabric of his dress shirt, savoring the firmness of his muscled chest beneath the textile. We always extinguish the flame before it truly burns. Perhaps James was correct — she had been opposing a traitorous fire within the deepest pits of her heart, and body, long before Wanda had a terrible idea to send the two on a faux honeymoon. 

“Kiss me,” she spoke in an honest confession of lust. 

“What?” James’ voice was breathless as he gawked at the woman in foreign excitement and disbelief. 

Oh, the way he hoped she’d realize that the line between love and hatred stood thin, and they had surely blurred it in Maui, but never did James think she genuinely would. The fault was his, partially. It had been easy to fabricate false narratives for the compound’s residents, convince himself he loathed the woman despite the countless nights of wandering hands and shameful memories of her body. James had designed a malicious persona, but oh, the way he hoped she’d see through it. 

“Kiss me,” she repeated, “because just once, I need to get you out of my system,” her hands slithered to his biceps, “kiss me, so the next time I’ll touch myself at night, it won’t be your face I’ll be seeing.” 

James cupped the back of y/n’s neck, crashing their lips together. The world in the background ceased to exist at the moment. He swiped his tongue against her bottom lip, asking for permission, and she surrendered to the request, tangling her fingers in his copper locks. She gingerly pulled at the root, earning a muffled whimper from James, and he slid his metal arm down to y/n’s waist to bring the woman closer, to erase the barely existent gap between their bodies. She burned with arousal, and Bucky was equally as famished. It was only the lack of oxygen that pulled the couple apart, and James drew in a deep breath, capturing y/n’s lips once more seconds later.

It was a dangerous promise, the kiss. A wildfire that spread through the entirety of her body, stimulating every nerve ending until she was moaning into his mouth as a plead for more, tongues fighting for dominance. It knocked the air out of her lungs, and when she retreated, James didn’t meld their lips, opting to focus on y/n’s neck. He kissed, licked, and sucked the sensitive skin like a man deprived of the only thing he’s ever desired. She was a drug, and god, was James addicted to her scent and her silky skin, and her hands, sloppily untucking his dress shirt, to slide under the fabric and explore his taut muscles. Everywhere she touched scorched, and he messily searched for the zipper of her gown, discarding the dress to the ground as soon as the piece of metal relented.

She was the most beautiful sight James had ever seen as she stood in front of him in just a pair of lacy panties. Art, created by the world’s most talented of artists, an angel bestowed to him by the gods themselves. 

The sergeant brushed his flesh thumb across her lower lip, blending their lips together. His metal hand, the one she had always disgracefully thought was outrageously attractive, slithered between her plush thighs, and James moaned into her mouth upon discovering that she was soaked and aching for him. He shifted the undergarment to the side for access, dragging his fingers through her silken folds. 

Cool metal thumb pressed into her clit, and she broke the kiss, “inside,” she spoke, the tone of her voice laced with desperation, “I want you inside of me.” 

“Sweet girl,” James chuckled, inserting a single digit into her slick heat, “you need to be stretched first.” 

He thrusted his finger a few times before adding a second digit. She clenched around him, messily unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it on the carpeted floors. The pace of his thrusts remained steady and agonizingly slow as James basked in her pleasure-riddled expression. 

The woman clutched the waistband of his trousers, messing with the belt, her fingers trembling as James continued to stroke the sensitive spot inside her with two of his fingers. “Please,” she muttered, “faster.” 

A sly smirk waltzed on his lips at the request, but, instead of obeying y/n’s wishes, he halted the activity, removing his hand, and placed the metal in his mouth, sucking it clean, “such a sweet thing you are.” 

Warmth crept up her neck and onto her cheekbones. He hastily removed the trousers, placing his hands on the back of y/n’s upper thighs, hoisting the woman, and gently tossed her onto the spongy bed. She stared at him through curious eyes, lowering her gaze to observe the bulge in his boxers, and swallowed the lump in her throat. Judging by the outline in his underwear, James was huge, far bigger than the men she had fooled around with in the past. 

“I want to taste you,” she confessed, propping herself up on her elbows.

James shook his head no, hooking his fingers under the waistband of her onyx panties to tear them off, “next time, doll.” 

She wasn’t certain whether there would be a next time, for James had discovered a side to her, she had long buried. An alter ego, who was submissive, and pliable, and starved for the touch of a man she described as her enemy. 

James nestled between her legs, arms on either side of her waist, and placed chaste kisses on y/n’s mouth and jawline. His head dipped lower as he assailed her neck and chest, popping a nipple in his mouth. The sergeant sucked the sensitive bud before nipping on it, massaging her other breast with his hand and rolling the right nipple between his fingers. 

She writhed under him, eyes shut from the waves of pleasure racing through her. James didn’t linger over the area, choosing to concentrate on kissing the length of y/n’s body as he crawled to situate himself betwixt her thighs. Goosebumps painted the path of his eager kisses, and she grasped a handful of his hair when James gave her clit a kitten lick to test the response. 

“James,” she purred as he repeated the action and slithered two digits back into her dripping heat. 

“Use your words,” he grazed his tongue over the bud again, applying a little bit more pressure, “tell daddy what you want.” 

The woman’s eyes shot open at the term but then he was thrusting his fingers into her wetness, repeatedly hitting the delicious spot that made her toes curl, the insult toward James forgotten. 

“Mouth,” she mumbled, too lost in the delectation to form a coherent sentence. 

James snickered at her vague response, wrapping a pair of soft lips around y/n’s clit. The thrusting of his fingers persisted as he stimulated the area. James was spelling out his full name on her sex, she realized by the time he had started tracing a b for Buchanan, yet she abstained from further reflections, coming undone by his mouth and fingers seconds before James could complete tracing the s in Barnes.  

“Good girl,” he praised, helping y/n ride out her orgasm.

James withdrew his fingers, sucking them clean of y/n’s stickiness before he removed the metal with a pop, and peeled off his boxers, flinging the garment across the space.

The room was modern and opulent, with floor-to-ceiling windows exposing the ever-awake skyline of New York City, its sky-high buildings, impressive bridges, and countless lights. It was situated on the fortieth floor of the hotel, creating a perfect opportunity to indulge in a bit of a rush and leave the curtains wide open without a true risk of innocent bystanders witnessing the scene.

James kneeled on the bed. The usual glimmer of annoyance toward her in his eyes had been replaced by a feral kind of hunger, and, as she stared at him like a pray would observe its hunter, y/n decided that, just maybe, this wouldn’t be the first or the last time she’d let James treasure her body. 

She loosely draped her forearms over his neck when he slanted to capture her nipple in his mouth, “I know you consistently ignore my wishes,” she whimpered, “but for the love of god, sergeant, I need you.” 

He chuckled, showing attention to the other bud by pinching it, “my sweet girl wants to get filled, huh?” 

James’ throbbing weight rested heavily against the skin of her thighs, and she reached down to palm it. “Yes.” 

The woman’s nimble fingers caressed the reddened tip, spreading his precum on the surface before she dipped her hand a tad lower to gently fondle his balls. A moan escaped past his lips at her eager endeavor. 

“I like it when you’re needy,” James pulled back and she groaned at the loss of him in her hands, “and dripping,” his fingers ghosted over the velvety folds before he was manhandling the spy to rest on her knees and forearms, “willing to let daddy take care of you.” 

She ignored the name yet again but stored it within her memories to use for blackmail in the future. “Is he?” She questioned when Bucky clutched her hips and pushed his hand down on her back for a deeper arch. “Is daddy gonna fuck me, or is he just going to talk all night?” 

James understood she only used the term to mock him, but shit, did it stir his already aching cock. He palmed himself twice before dragging his length along her slick folds, the metal hand abandoning her hips to circle her waist and gently rub y/n’s clit from behind. She clenched around emptiness, pressing into his pelvis for friction, and Bucky ceased his movements, removing the fingers from her bud to harshly grip the flesh of y/n’s hips once more. James continued the torture, lazily teasing her entrance, and she painfully sunk her teeth into her bottom lip. 

“What do we say when we want something?” He taunted the woman, utterly enjoying her anguish. 

“James,” she mumbled into the crisp sheets. 

The soldier found amusement in the warning but showed mercy, sinking into her sodden heat. He’d fuck the brat out of her on a different day.

A strained whimper escaped past her lips at the delicious stretch of his cock, matching Bucky’s hiss at the way the spy’s walls drunk him in. James thrusted into her a few times, experimenting with speed and rhythm. A particularly rough roll of his hips seemed to rip a piercing moan from y/n’s throat, and he grinned, abandoning the hold on her hips to massage her clit again.

The room was saturated in vulgar noises of skin slapping against skin, moans, and desperate whines as James mercilessly pounded into her. She sobbed into a pillow as he led her to the edge for the second time, refusing to burst the bubble and let the flame consume her, thick fingers retreating just before the orgasm could ignite her body, over and over again.

James consumed every shallow breath and every wail, deciding that it would not be the last time he’d listen to the melody — she was a sin he’d gratefully burn in hell for, and an angel he’d break down heaven’s gates to attain. The soldier suddenly removed himself from her, already missing y/n’s silken walls squeezing around him, and shifted the woman, so that she rested on her back. He captured her ankles, draping them over his shoulders before he roughly thrusted back in. She wept at the overstimulation when he bottomed out, balls slapping against the skin of her ass. The new angle allowed James to reach far deeper. 

He groaned, “you’re so tight,” thumb brushing against her plush lips, “my sweet, sweet girl,” he cooed, “wanna worship this pussy all night.” 

And in his head, the statement stood true, but it was his body that opposed it, his arousal steadily creeping over the edge of an orgasm. 

She shut her eyes, expression drenched with pleasure, “I’ma cum,” she moaned. 

“I know, doll.” James wiped off the tear threatening to roll down her cheek and captured y/n’s lips in a messy kiss. 

“It feels good—,” she hiccuped when he pulled away, “—so good.” 

The world stilled. It was only James’ ragged breath and the heavenly orgasm she could focus on, washing over her body in syrupy waves and causing her toes to curl into the mattress below. She raked her nails over the skin of his back, leaving scorching marks in her wake. 

“Shit,” James cursed as his own peak approached, his strokes sloppy. 

It was a few thrusts later when he climaxed, painting her velvety walls white with a loud moan. He licked a sensitive spot on y/n’s neck, propping himself up on his forearms when the thunderous arousal began to quiet.

She brushed the hair that had gotten stuck to his sweaty forehead aside, “we don’t have evidence to convict Nancy,” she spoke when her heartbeat steadied.  

James sighed amusedly, pulling out his softened length and maneuvering to lay beside her. “This is what you say after we just had sex for the first time?” 

“Yes,” she deflected, refusing to admit she had fallen for the soldier and that it would not be the only time they’d get tangled in the sheets. 

“Alright,” he abandoned the bed with a laugh and gathered y/n’s exhausted body in his arms to locate the bathroom, “but let’s shower before we talk shop.” 

James observed the skyline of New York City. It was the place they had first encountered one another, back when he had brutally stabbed the woman. She rested on his bare chest now, peacefully asleep, soft snores falling from her lips. Times have changed, James realized with a heavy heart because change was uncertain and scary. It was worth it, though, if it meant the sergeant could love her up close and without barriers between them. It’d surely take a while to erase the tainted memories of the past, but they had been at war for five years, and he’d happily spend another five falling in love. 

An iPhone James had recently purchased dinged with a text. 

CAPTAIN AMERICA: guess Wanda and I won’t have to sleep with our eyes open after all:)

His mouth curved into a smile, elated Steve had not only woken up but was cracking jokes over the situation he had forced Bucky into. 

WHITE WOLF: debatable. 

It was not debatable — Steve and Wanda sending the couple on a honeymoon in Maui was the best decision they could’ve made, for the moon found his sun at last. 

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[aqua-the-smiter]

Part 6 mfers, sorry this took so long Cato Sicarius x female reader Divider by @squishyowl Song - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3q63sILptUs

Cato awoke to a soft apothecarium cot underneath him and the sweet scent of flowers. It was warm under the covers. His limbs felt leaden and the sleepiness didn't abate like it usually did. Sedatives then. Nothing hurt either, which meant the analgesics he must have been pumped with were something else. He could feel a pressure on his chest. Lifting the white sheets and looking down, he could see a lump of bandages.

On the small table next to him was a cup of water and a vase full of different flowers. Alongside these was a stack of notes, some hastily scribbled while others took up several sheets of parchment. Late afternoon light filtered in from some window or other. He tried to sit up and quickly decided that could wait for a bit long with a groan.

"Cato?"

He turned his head to see you nearly running back into the room. Sitting yourself down in a chair by his bedside.

"Peahen."

"By the throne." You said in a choked whisper, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him. it was all your could do to not break into tears right there and then. "You're ok!"

Slowly, he put an arm around you and squeezed gently. "Of course I am. How long have I been out? Is Melor alright?"

"You get stabbed in the chest and still your duty is the first thing you think about when you wake up." You kissed his cheek.

"He is far more than just my duty, Peahen."

"I know, I know. Thankfully the little guy is just fine. A bit shaken up but otherwise unharmed. It's been three days."

He laid back. "Then all is well. What happened since?"

"The Primarch has tightened security around the whole Fortress, but that's probably obvious. That Word Bearer who turned on his comrades was given over to the Redeemed."

"That is good to hear. He seemed decent."

You reached over and grabbed the stack of notes. "He left you one in here somewhere beforehand."

Cato took them and began to shuffle through them, skimming the contents. They were letters from his battle brothers. Well wishes, congratulations. Even a few apologies. He found one that was just a single sheet, the oddly spiky handwriting suggesting that the author was not quite used to writing in Gothic.

Thank you for allowing me the chance to redeem some of my sin. That boy will love you like a brother for all of his days. - Robavam

There were others. He found ones from Calgar, Ventris, Titus, and several other officers. Practically all his comrades in the Victrix had written one. Some from regular marines, some from neophytes. Even some of the Redeemed had sent their wishes. He laid back after reading a few. There was an odd feeling in his heart that he couldn't put his finger on.

You resisted the urge to lay your head on his chest. Instead you cradled his head in your arms, stroking his hair.

"You were so brave Cato. So, so brave. You know there's pict recordings of your fight? Security footage. The Primarch let me see them after everything was reviewed. And lucky too. They had to bring the Redeemed's chief apothecary here to help patch you up. Now the whole place smells like flowers."

"I can see that." He poked the bandage on his chest. "But it was not anything special.

"You killed six Chaos Astartes and a terminator. How is that nothing? Don't undercut yourself." You chided him gently, kissing his cheek. "You're a hero."

"So it would seem."

"You are!"

Cato didn't look convinced, and changed the subject. "Since you seem to be well informed, Peahen, do you know how long I'm to be here?"

You flushed a bit. "Well...someone had to look after you while you were out. The apothecaries told me I could tell you since I've been here the whole time. The sword went in deep, poked a lung but missed both your hearts thankfully. You're healing up nicely thanks to Apothecary Asphodelus, but you're supposed to stay here for a few more days just so you can be monitored."

He let out a small, hollow laugh. "Just a little to the left and it probably would have killed me. The Primarch must have been disappointed."

"Lord Guilliman is extremely proud of you!"

"I'm sure he is."

"Cato!"

"What?"

"What's with the cynicism? You did good." You stroked his cheek in a mollifying gesture. He huffed like a dissatisfied dog.

"I didn't do anything special. I just did what was expected. Of course I would have either way, I would never just sit by and let Melor be harmed or killed." Just the thought of it made him feel slightly sick. "But it was my duty regardless."

"I think you went a little above and beyond. You would have been expected to get Melor out of danger, not kill six marines and a terminator solo with a massive wound. You're undercutting yourself."

He sighed. "Maybe. I am just happy that he's safe."

That I didn't fail.

In that moment it hadn't mattered what anyone thought of him, or how he thought of himself. All that had mattered was that Melor's tiny life was at stake, and that he had been the only one standing between it and the boy's enemies. Everything had dissolved. It didn't matter how he was perceived. A failure, an egoist, arrogant, a sexist, a weak leader, whatever. He had done his duty. He knew the truth about what and who he was, even through the screams and pipe organ music that haunted his memories. That was enough for him.

Wasn't that all that really mattered in the end?

You felt him relax in your embrace, and you ran your fingers through his hair. Letting him drift off back to sleep in your arms again. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Primarch came to see his gene-son later that day, bringing a special someone along with him.

Cato was awake again when he came in, Melor cradled in one arm. His golden eyes lit up when he saw the Ultramarine. He cooed happily, reaching out with his arms and making grabby hands at him. He was surprised at that. The boy seemed too young to recognize him so easily, and with such enthusiasm.

Guilliman didn't seem surprised. He smiled at the scene before addressing Cato. "It is good to see you well. I was worried I had lost you for a while."

He tried to conjure up something confident and snarky to say and found that he couldn't. "I fully expected to die that night. The fact I did not is nothing short of a miracle."

"All the same, I am quite glad you're still with us. It would have been a devastating loss. Not just for me either."

Melor continued making grabby hands at his cousin, and was started to get fidgety. You watched the scene with amusement.

"Is he alright?" Cato asked.

"Just fine. He wants to be with you for a little while I think. Would you mind?"

"I could hold him for a bit." He agreed, masking his apprehension.

The boy was handed over in short order. Cato cradled him in his arms the way he'd seen you and Primarch doing. He weighed practically nothing. So light and fragile. Melor reached up a tiny hand to him and tangled it in his beard, giggling.

"Aren't you a little young for mischief?" Cato asked, the question directed as much to Roboute as to Melor.

Guilliman picked up on his suspicious. "He is...unique."

"He would be, wouldn't he?"

You patted his cheek as he untangled Melor's tiny fist from his beard. "Oh come off it Cato. Look at him, he likes you."

"Which is also unusual."

"He's the son of a Primarch." You reminded him. "Of course he'll be a little unusual."

Sicarius looked like he wanted to argue with you but dropped it, turning his attention back to Melor. To your surprise, the Primarch shot you a grateful look, which you decided not to question. Whatever was strange about the boy, it was probably best not to question. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------Cato was back on his feet and out of the medicae in another three days, although under strict orders to go easy for a while longer. He was functional, but not healed. The process was slower, both because the wound was quite deep and because it seemed the sword had been covered in a mild poison of some sort. Thus his recovery would take more time, and he was relegated to light training and paperwork.

He was not prepared for the reception he received when he was finally walking the halls of the Fortress of Hera again.

There had been distance. Respect for sure, but he could tell there was a warmth gone. His reputation had proceeded him for the most part. Not anymore.

There were hushed, awed whispers as he passed by. Serfs and Astartes alike stopped and saluted him. There was genuine admiration from his battle brothers now. Real, deep respect. Neophytes and scouts would nervously approach him during drills, asking for advise. Before he had felt like the Primarch's disappointing side project. Now he was being lauded as a hero.

It was like everyone had finally divorced the version of him they had in their heads, and come to realize the version of him that truly existed. The two different people that had been running around since his return from the Emperor's Will had become one again.

That didn't mean all was well though.

In truth he felt disdainful now. It had taken his near death to alleviate himself of their scorn. Like the Emperor's Will wasn't enough. Nothing he had done since had been fucking enough. Not only was he haunted by the screams of his dead and dying, but of their disapproval as well. It left a bitter stickiness in his throat whenever he thought about it. He had never been one for self pity. This just made his angry. Why did he have to prove himself when he'd already done so more times than he could count? Why did he have to shed his own blood and come on bended knee for them to see he had repented from his younger years? Why did he have to repent for them at all? As if others hadn't done a thousand times worse.

The exception was you, of course. You were always the exception. You were the light in his life.

Guardianship over Melor had been temporarily passed to a few different Ultramarines on a rotating schedule. Among there were Uriel and Demetrian, although Cato wasn't off the hook with him either. Instead spending time with the boy when he had a spare moment. It gave him a convenient audience for his bitterness.

"I'm like you now." Cato said. He was sitting cross legged on the floor, shaking a rattle for Melor. He giggled, his tiny hands reaching out for it.

"How so?" Titus asked. He was standing in front of the door, back to his brother, one hand on his chainsword. "Did you cross the Rubicon while I wasn't looking?" He joked.

Cato snorted. "Of course not. I mean everyone thinks I'm a hero now."

"Are you not? You nearly died saving the little one."

"I suppose so. I am just jaded about it. Instead of earning the title by cutting through hordes of orks and swarms of Tyranids, or tearing my way across a daemon infested planet like Caedo, or everything that Ventris did, I get it by being stabbed in the chest and killing seven enemies."

"You already had a good reputation before then." Titus reassured. "This was special."

"My reputation was lying beaten and bloody on the floor before this."

His expression knitted into a frown. "It was not that bad, Cato. You had some blunders, but it is as the Chapter Master said. No leader of men has only victories."

"And you really believe that, do you?" Cato scoffed. "You don't have to lie to spare my feelings Titus. You're too good of a man for that."

"Do not tell me you saved Melor only for your reputation."

"Of course not! I...care for the boy." He admitted. "He is our cousin. And the last of Lord Ferrus Manus's legacy."

"Then what has made you so bitter?"

"Why like this? Nothing else I did matters. Why does all the rest of my suffering mean nothing!? I have been at the sharp end for years. I have been brought to my knees time and time again, but all of that is forgotten. I have been humbled so thoroughly that only by nearly dying, and not for the first bloody time, did anyone remember who I actually am. The wraith going around wearing my name is finally banished."

Titus didn't respond, but he turned to look at Cato, and his expression was pained. Sicarius didn't see it, too occupied with Melor.

He didn't mind coming to see the boy. There was definitely an affection for the boy, born of their kinship. Melor was, after all, his cousin. But the more time he spent with him, the more he realized just how strange he was.

It wasn't anything big. More a series of small oddities that added up. He was a normal baby in nearly every way. Which made the ways that he wasn't stand out all the more. There was his recognition of Cato, for example. His golden eyes lit up when he saw his cousin. Easily picking him out even without his helmet on. Beyond that, even. He always seemed to relax around him. Like he felt safe with him.

The other thing that really tipped him off was his unusual strength, which was usually demonstrated when someone tried to take a toy from Melor's little hands. For example, he had been gifted an old plush toy that had once been Primarch Guilliman's when he had been a child, a fact that boggled Cato's mind to think about. It was a pegasus, soft white with a fluffy mane and tail, shimmery wings, and a dove gray muzzle. He adored it, and would cuddle and roll all over it. Good luck trying to take it from him when it was nap time, however. You'd end up in a surprisingly even tug of war. What's more, Cato always got the impression that Melor was holding back because he didn't want to damage the thing. Which was more brainpower than any barely-over-a-month old should have.

But he acted just like a normal baby in every other regard. He was a normal baby, just with a few quirks.

Still, it was clear there was much the Primarch hadn't told him.

"With all due respect my lord, there is something you neglected to tell me about Melor, isn't there?" Cato said, before Roboute could get a word out.

He sighed, shifting the topic of conversation in his arms so his head was resting more comfortably. Cato probably had a gut feeling this conversation was supposed to be about him and was trying to prevent it before it even started. Still, if he'd already figured it out anywhere, there wasn't much to be gained by hiding it.

"I know what you're trying to do." Guilliman replied. "But you are correct. I felt it was not information that needed to be shared. Since you are at least somewhat aware of it, I will tell you. Given enough time, you would probably figure it out on your own anyway."

"He's...alright, isn't he?"

"Of course he is. He is just...well, he's unusual. You see, by some miracle, he is a full blooded Primarch."

Sicarius's eyes widened. "What? How?"

Guilliman sighed. "I don't know. Ferrus doesn't know. As near as either of us can figure, my brother simply got incredibly lucky with the boy's genes. I have a feeling the only person who could tell us for certain is the Emperor, and I am not bringing Melor anywhere near him."

His face scrunched in a pained frown with memory for a moment before relaxing.

"That's why he recognizes me then? Why he seems much stronger than he should be? That's why the Word Bearers came."

"Yes." He nodded. "I don't think they knew either, but they knew he was different. They knew enough to deduce he could be a threat one day."

"Is he doing alright? He was very shaken when I found him." Cato asked.

"He is young. Some things still linger, but as long as we keep an eye on him, and make sure he feels safe, he will heal just fine from it. that is why I let him be with you so often."

"He feels safe with me?"

"As much as an infant-even an infant Primarch-can register something like that. Make no mistake, he is still only a baby. But you shouldn't be surprised. You nearly gave your life for his. I'm proud of you, and your actions."

"Yes. Despite my injury it seemed to remind everyone that I am not, in fact, a paper general."

"Cato, are you well?" Roboute asked his son.

He sighed. "I am just fine, my lord. It has been a trying week, but I have been through worse. And I am relieved that Melor is alright."

He paused.

"What has Titus been telling you?"

"He has told me enough. He's worried about you. I am too."

"What is there to be concerned about? You know what's wrong with me."

"You seem very...jaded."

"Of course I am!" He threw up his hands. "What else could I be? I have been shouldering the disgust of my own battle brothers for years now, all while my mind is eating itself. And now, after I nearly died, that is what gets them to remember who I was. They're patting me on the back like it was expected I'd try to get myself killed to earn my respect back."

"Do you really believe that's the whole truth, or have you run away with your own bitterness?" Roboute asked him softly.

"...What?"

"I will not sit here and tell you that you have not been dealt an unfair hand. In many aspects you have. Not all of your brothers like you, your reputation definitely has taken many hits. Moreover, your mind has been wounded, deeply. I do not think anyone truly understands how much it has hurt you."

He raised an eyebrow. "I detect a 'but', my lord."

"The whole chapter is not out to get you, Cato. I am not here to hang you out to dry. I don't pity you, I am worried for you. Both for your mind and how you have been handling this whole thing. You are not nearly as despised as you think you are, and your brothers are not congratulating you because they thought you needed to grovel, it's because you saved the life of an innocent baby and Ferrus's only son."

When Cato didn't respond, he continued.

"You know I am very proud of you. There is a war in your mind that you have been fighting alone for years. But I've never seen you falter in your duty. Never waver. You're in pain, but Melor is still alive and safe. You killed six Word Bearers and a terminator solo. Your brothers are proud of you too. It is all I have heard any of them talk about for the last week. They hail you as a hero, not a prodigal who redeemed himself."

Melor squirmed, and started making grabby hands at his cousin. Guilliman held out the little Primarch to his son, who took him hesitantly after a moment.

"Even he knows you did a good job."

"He's too young to know much of anything."

"I have met older men and women who know less." He shook his head. "You've done well, Cato."

Sicarius looked down at Melor, then up at his Primarch, lost for words. "Are you sure?"

"If I was displeased with I would tell you. You are doing just fine, and I wish to see you get better."

Cato nodded, turning the Primarch's words over in his head. It was the kind of encouragement he'd really only heard from you. From Guilliman it took on a whole new meaning. He supposed he had a lot to reevaluate then. Lord Guilliman was many things, but a liar was not one of them. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Are you doing alright, Cato?" You asked him, stroking his hair as he rested his head in your lap.

He thought for a moment, snuggling into your thighs. "Better than I have been."

[sirfrogsworth]

Someone was having trouble getting decent sound in his living room and instead of recommending a room treatment or better speakers this person just casually suggests PUTTING AN ADDITION ONTO THE HOUSE.

Trying to get advice on audio forums is often a challenge because a lot of these dudes just have *so much* disposable income. And they just assume everyone else is wealthy too. You can even tell them you have a budget and they'll be like, "You should save up longer and buy this thing that is three times your budget."

And it's not like there aren't wonderful options that are more affordable. I think I may have about $3000 worth of home theater equipment that I have collected over the last 20 years. They will spend that on a single speaker and suggest you do the same.

The people in these forums would have a fit if they knew I had a single subwoofer. Apparently, the cardinal audio sin is having only ONE subwoofer.

Your room could have NULLS!

NULLLLLLS!!!

Seriously, they will lecture you anytime you mention having a single subwoofer. "Your seat-to-seat response is going to be inconsistent!"

I also saw a guy say that a 15" subwoofer was "tiny" and "pointless."

My 70-pound, 12" subwoofer is currently vibrating items off the shelf in my house ever since I moved it upstairs and don't have concrete floors like in the basement. I'm going to have to buy special subwoofer feet to decouple it from the floor. I can't imagine what a 15" sub would do to my house. It might collapse on top of me.

So you can only get a sub that is at least 18" and you need a minimum of 2... but 4 is much better. Actually, 4 is the minimum. 2 is garbage. 2 in front and 2 in back.

And, of course, you have to get a Rythmik or PSA subwoofer. Don't cheap out on the brand!

You have to build an addition to the house AND buy $8000 worth of subwoofers and then MAYBE your sound will be somewhat listenable.

But only if you calibrate the subs with a MiniDSP and the proper UMIK calibration microphone.

Wait, do you have a regular AVR with built in amplification? That won't do. What you need is an audio processor with individual external amplification.

You'll need a 9.4.6 configuration for the proper surround sound experience. That is 9 ear-level speakers, 4 subwoofers, and 6 atmos ceiling speakers.

So 2 of these.

1 of these.

3 pairs of these.

6 of these... plus professional ceiling installation.

And an individual amplifier for each speaker.

Do you really need a 600 watt amp for the ceiling speakers too?

OF COURSE YOU DO!

DO YOU WANT A LOW NOISE FLOOR AND NO DISTORTION OR DO YOU WANT GARBAGE?

Comfort is important too. So you'll want a Valencia leather power recliner with LED cup holder.

And... by far... the most important home theater component...

The power cable.

This will assure that only the highest quality electrons are delivered to your audio equipment.

Don't think about it too much.

Don't think about all of the janky powerlines that deliver electricity to your house.

Or all of the generic power cables inside your wall.

This cable magically negates all of that and turns the last few feet of electricity into pure, audio-grade power.

Guaranteed to drastically improve your sound quality... somehow.

It can't be nonsense, otherwise someone would have never written such beautiful prose about a power cable in a review...

"I was smitten by the piano’s extra depth in its nether regions. I’m not talking about what some audiophiles like to refer to as testicular bass, but rather, a rich and absorbing presentation."

$14,000 for rich and absorbing testicular bass? WORTH IT!

So that's roughly $65,870 for all of that and between $50,000 and $100,000 for a 500 square foot room addition.

A small price to pay for a room that is not junk for listening to music.

[my-castles-crumbling]

cas review of ttpd?

Ah yes! I am finally ready!

Cas's Review of TTPD that Two (2) People Asked For (so now you all get a fucking essay)

Literally, this is growing to be one of my favorite albums. Like...I appreciate Taylor most for her lyrics and I wrote down seven pages of them in my notebook of lyrics that fucking killed me. I feel like it's a more mature version of folklore, which is exactly what I was hoping for.

I really liked the promo for this album- the lyrics being spread, the phases of grief, the entire thing was so well-done. And the double album drop left me literally screaming.

I feel like the order of the songs on the album is also super well thought out. It really tells a story and I could feel her going through the phases, especially in the first half of the album.

I thought it was cool that she definitely took some risks in the album, but most of them landed 1000%. So many of the cool things done with the lyrics, melody, and tempo were amazing and kept me interested.

I'm gonna start by listing the more specific things I didn't like because there's only three:

In the song "Fresh Out The Slammer" during the outro, the change in beat was very jarring. I LOVED the rest of the song and it just ruined it for me

Florida!!! was...a choice. I get it. The concept of going away somewhere after a breakup to get over it is great. But Florida? Like...c'mon. Also "fuck me up Florida" made me cringe.

The line in "I Hate It Here" about racists...god, I have two minds about it. I don't think there was winning with that one, and I think people are going to tear her apart for it without taking it in context. Like when you take it in the bigger picture of the song, it makes sense. But when you take it in just the few lines...it feels a bit like it's trivializing the fact that literal slavery existed during that time? So yeah. I go back and forth...

And now a song ranking and my feelings about some of the songs:

Guilty As Sin? - This song has been in my head ever since I heard it. It's perfect, it's everything.

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart - This is giving DBATC (favorite taylor song) vibes and I am so in love. It destroyed me.

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me? - This is an ANTHEM. This will be screamed in the shower. This is so powerful.

But Daddy I Love Him - This was just so nostalgic. Like it gave Fearless Taylor and I loved it so much. Also the jumpscare fucking SHOOK me.

So Long, London - This was like a companion to You're Losing Me and god, it was amazingly hurtful.

loml - I just love slow, sad Taylor. and the twist at the end? ugh

I Hate It Here - Questionable line aside, this song was 15/10 relatable as a fanfic reader/writer

imgonnagetyouback - I feel like this will be a single.

The Prophecy - ouch

The Alchemy - Awww, so cute!

I Look In People's Windows

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

The Albatross

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived - god she CAME for this man.

The Black Dog

Down Bad - I also feel like this will be a single

Fresh Out the Slammer

How Did It End?

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

TTPD

Cassandra - hahahaha whoops, we're coming for Kim again?

thanK you aIMee - and again? that line about her mom was AMAZING

So High School - adorable

Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus

Fortnight - she and Post Malone work so well together

The Bolter

The Manuscript

Peter

Robin

Clara Bow

Florida!!

What do you all think?

[goodluckclove]

How I Critique Writing (A Loose Collection of Tips)

Someone asked me for insights into my methodology when it comes to giving feedback on writing and I realized I had way more than I could say in a reasonable amount of private messages. Are you someone who I've spoken to about their writing? Did someone send you their work and you don't know how to respond? Maybe this will help? Based on how people react I feel like it might be controversial but it seems to work.

When someone sends me their writing, no matter the size, subject or genre, I:

Take it seriously. It's a generational epic about the Vietnam war and its effects. It's a cute, young adult romance. It's Zim and Dib from Invader Zim realizing they've always been in love with each other. All of these things can be written with earnestness, strength, honesty and skill. It's fucking hard to write and if someone writes a single sentence that wouldn't otherwise exist its worth holding in your hands and examining with the same eye as if you were taking an interesting book off the shelf.

Respond with curiosity. It's common for critiques to follow a theme of ambiguous disdain. This doesn't work. Delete this. Bad. No. Gross. Guess what? That's not helpful. If you got that feedback, even if you followed it, you wouldn't be thrilled about it. Oftentimes you can take a line that makes you want to say Bad and ask something else. What is this supposed to express? What were you trying to do here? Am I supposed to feel happy/sad/uncertain when I read this? Curiosity can reframe something that you don't think works as a reader and turn it into an opportunity for the writer to look inward and solve their own problem. They might explain what they were trying to do, and if you were to say that it didn't pan out for you they're way more likely to tweak things themselves and feel like they still have control over their project.

Give comments. I've started giving more in-depth comments on the writing people give me depending on how anxious they are about it. If you're a pretty confident writer I'll give a summary of what I gained and what I was left wondering, what I thought and what I felt, what associations it made me think of in terms of tone and other forms of media - stuff like that. For newer writers, especially those who are far more doubting of their own abilities, I go buck wild. And in my opinion notes should be less like Good! I like this! Wow! Nice! (What are you, grading my book report? No thanks), and more like what you think when you're reading a book you're truly invested in. Make jokes about the characters (Not mean ones. I will send bugs to you in the mail.), chart exact lines that provoke physical reactions, even a small one. Can you imagine reading someone treat your work like it has its own fandom on Tumblr? You can do that for someone else.

Fucking have some fucking awareness of the fact that it might not be for you and that doesn't mean it's bad. I'm angry about this one considering the novel a friend sent me last night that they've been too terrified to try and post online, despite it being fucking brilliant. I'll try and calm down. Listen - you read what you like. I mainly read literary and experimental fiction, some poetry, horror and some sci-fi. Not a lot of genre fiction. But I will always be down to read someone's high fantasy story, because even though I don't really like fantasy I know what the good ones sound like. I've forced myself to gain a sense of what someone else would like, even if I don't like it. And I can still critique it. If I'm a builder and I see a house that's painted a shade of green I find sinful for a home (i.e. mint), I can look past that and focus on the state of the walls and the stability of the foundation. You aren't a reviewer, man. You are neither Siskel, nor Ebert. They write for readers, you write for writers. So you don't like historical fiction? Cool, man. Congrats. If someone trusts you enough to give you some to read and critique, you should still do so objectively. If you give it an automatic F because you wouldn't buy it, then you are legally a stinky little trash man. That's just the law.

Ask them what they liked to write and what was the hardest. There's apparently a weird trend on online writer communities that say there are specific rules that all writers need to follow. This is not true. It just isn't. If the dialogue in a story you read is weak, and the writer says they hate writing dialogue and really struggle with it, maybe tell them they don't have to use it. You might change their entire life.

RESPOND WITH CURIOSITY. You see the Ask games where people try and get more detail on the WIP of certain authors. If you have a WIP and I ask you a worldbuilding question that doesn't relate to the direct plot of the story as it exists now, I bet you'd like to talk about it. If I ask if you were inspired by a certain tone or movie, you might know the work I was talking about and feel happy. Or you might not know it, look it up, and feel inspired. I don't think people realize that a critique of new/unfinished writing is not a one-and-done exchange. You are taking part in an isolated process in a way few other people on the planet will. It's not homework. It's. Not. Homework. We spend so much of our time alone just fiddling our hands and making our magic, and in instances like these we share something in one of the ultimate forms of artistic trust. They're taking you into a world that hasn't fully formed yet. Is it cool? Can you tell me about it? Can they?

Be nice. Storytime, friends. In the way early 2010s, there was something on the internet called sporking. It was pretty much a line by line roast of someone's writing - typically fanfic. And I hate to say this, but I read a lot of it. I was 13, somehow untreated and overmedicated, and I was miserable constantly. Just cold in my chest. At one point I had the chance to critique a stranger's story - probably another child - and I essentially mocked the whole thing. They ended up deleting the story off the website. I cannot begin to describe to you the shame I feel about doing this, even ten years later. It burns in my heart and makes me sick to my stomach. If you are a serious writer, especially a young writer, and you insult another writer's craft to their face just as they're getting started - you will regret it. I promise you that. You will think about holding something alive and full of potential in your hands and squeezing your fists until it is just flecks of meat and crushed bone. It will haunt you. Maybe only a little, but constantly and for the rest of your life. So don't do it.

Wow what a grim note to leave on! That's essentially my philosophy on writing critique, do with it what you will. Want to send me some writing to receive this kind of excessive treatment? Cool! I have an email in my pinned post and I'll do that! I'm also down to chat if anyone wants to send me asks or DMs on writing/writing struggles/publishing tips.

[sophiesonlinediary]

Official TTPD Review

Fortnight - Such a vibe with headphones on, but still far from being my favorite though. I'm quite shocked this is the first single but I do really like it now at the second listen, still sad post malone didn't get his own verse i was excited for that :/

The Tortured Poets Department - The charlie puth mention really ruined verse 2 for me sadly, but the bridge ruined my life "At dinner, you take my ring off my middle finge. And put it on the one people put wedding rings on. And that's the closest I've come to my heart exploding" LIKE WTF HEART = BROKEN the title of the song is really cool but i dont know i wasnt expecting the song to sound like this.

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys - I think this may be my second least favorite from this album i dont understand why i didnt really like this song. Maybe it was the vibe of the song and sound especially the choruses which sadly didnt hit. i love how she wrote about a rocky relationship in this song. I feel like this one will definetly be a grower

Down Bad - literally one of my favorites from the whole album. Maybe it's cause the sound feels familiar to me kind off like midnights vibe. But wow that chorus is amazing truly so catchy and the lyrics like wow. i love this song so muchhhh

So Long, London - Not what I expected but still so heartbreakingly pretty. I love her voice in this song it's so pretty and the lyrics are so good oh my god. I swear the verse 3's in this album are vile. "I died on the altar waitin' for the proof" like god damn this whole song is amazing.

But Daddy I Love Him - I loved this song so fucking much. When she said "I'm having his babies" my face dropped and then she hit me with "no not really but you should see your faces" was really fun i'll probably never forget that. i believe this song is of everyone trying to decide her love life for her. And her being like fuck you guys it's my life and you have to accept it and i love her for that!

Fresh Out The Slammer - Those choruses are so good man especially the second one is so good and so me. On first listen this one isn't very memorable but still really good. Now that i've listened to it more like i love this song so much too and the bride ahhh <333

Florida !!! - Ok so maybe i'm a little biased but man this one is so fucking good. I have loved Florence and Taylor for years so like them collaborating was like everything and more. I have now listened to the song like thrice and wowwwww i love it so muchhhhh. Taylor, Florence, Fl welcomes you with open arms man. And like verse 3 was so good their song writing skills are out of this world.

Guilty As Sin? - What an interesting song, like man, idk how to feel. I love the chorus fs. I've come to interpret this song as her having thoughts of a man who possibly isn't available per say or it's just something that can never happen between the two but the want for eachother is there. "They don't know how you've haunted me so stunningly" I love this lyric btw and the chorus right after like wowwww

Who's Afraid Of Little Old Me - ME IM SCARED WTF. Her screaming that line was everything and like the second half of the song is so incredible like wow. also this line has stuck with me since last night "Then we could all just laugh until I cry" ALSO THE ASYLUM WHERE THEY RAISED ME SDJNVFI. I love how she's kind of portraying herself in this song as like the stereotypical scary neighbor in movies. At least that's how I saw it. The whole bridge is incredible and magnificent I adore this song.

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) - GIRL NO YOU CANT AND IM SO HAPPY YOU ACCEPTED THAT. Once I got past the point that this song is about ratty healy I really liked it. it's vibes are so good and the imagery is amazing.

loml - what if i said this should've been track 5. This was the only song in the album I cried to on first listen. It hit me like a bullet and I will never forgive cat lady swift for not preparing me for this song. Literally so fucking hurtful i'm screaming oh my lord. I- no im never getting over this song, sorry not sorry. And the fact "They almost had it all" but there life was cut short aka the relationship ended oh god kill me.

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart - I don't know whether to laugh or to cry. This song is heartbreaking don't let the production fool you, the lyrics want to make you rip you're hair out. And you know what i'll be dancing to this song with a broken heart. "The lights refract sequin stars off her silhouette every night. I can show you lies" it's giving mirrorball like augh i love this song so much!!! and the chorus is everything "I'm so obsessed with him, but he avoids me like the plague" SO FUCKING REAL.

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived - DRAG HIS ASS TAYLOR YEAHHHH. HELLO WTF THIS SONG IS SO GOOD AND FOR ALL OF U HATING ON IT U JUST DONT GET IT THE PASSIVE AGGRESSIVENESS IS EVERYTHINGGGG. mad woman you'd be proud asf. also my religion mentioned as a tongue in cheek to his anti religion views 👏

The Alchemy - I'm not gonna talk about this song much but like I didn't like it at all, i'm sorry. It sounds like one of those Kelce parody songs 😭

Clara Bow - Not the name-dropping herself, damn. I wanna manifest that second pre-chorus btw 🤞 i need to see the light of manhattan. I truly love this song and I can tell it's very personal to her. she's had such an unbelievable career it's always interesting when she writes about it. loved this as the album closer!

this is my ttpd review. remember im just a girl who's only listened to this album twice so please dont drag me for these opinions. gonna do the anthology later!

[lurkingshan]

Sahara Sensei to Toki-kun Final Review

I was planning to just chalk this one up to every project having a flop, let this subpar Drama Shower show finish quietly, and move on to the next, but that finale was so egregiously bad that I can't let it pass. This is an angry rant so read at your own risk.

Let me just preface this by saying that I am not opposed to media about taboo relationships, particularly from Japan. Exploring taboo is a big part of the Japanese media landscape, and I have seen it done quite well in many Japanese works. I did not come into this show set against the idea of the relationship at its core (age gap, teacher/student), but I did need to see the show engage with the idea of it responsibly, and demonstrate that if they were going to end up together, that would actually be good for our protagonist, Toki.

This show utterly failed on both fronts. At no point in the course of this show did the story engage seriously with the fact that Sahara is 1) an adult teacher with professional obligations and standards of conduct to meet; 2) Toki's direct homeroom teacher who is responsible for guiding him. Instead, the story told us over and over again that none of this mattered. Not a single other character in this story was alarmed by the idea of Sahara dating his student. When Sahara "accidentally" kissed Toki in the school play in front of the entire school, there were no consequences. Sahara flirted with and touched Toki openly, at school, in front of others, and no one cared. Toki blew off his assignments in favor of focusing on and flirting with Sahara, and Sahara didn't care or help guide him back to focusing on his work. When Sahara's ex flame, who is also a teacher, found out he had feelings for his student, he encouraged him to pursue it. There was not a single character in this story who professed any concern for Toki's well-being once they knew his teacher was pursuing him.

And they damn well should have, because as we saw for ourselves in this very episode, this relationship with Sahara encouraged Toki to hide his problems, refuse to ask for help, and get himself hurt. And why? Because he didn't want to be embarrassed about being bullied or look weak in front of his teacher boyfriend. This is exactly why teachers are not supposed to cross these lines with their students. Toki needed Sahara to be a safe adult he could talk to and ask for help when he needed it a lot more than he needed someone to flirt with. And because Sahara did not maintain appropriate boundaires, Toki did not feel comfortable going to him to do his actual job.

And this is just the tip of the iceberg with this episode's sins. Toki's arc in this show completely fell apart. We started this story with the idea that he was a nice kid with a good heart who just needed to believe there was a future for him to work toward, but rather than completing that arc for him, this episode was about establishing a childhood connection between him and Sahara so that the show could give them a Fated Destiny excuse to get together. We spent most of this episode justifying Sahara confessing to his student rather than getting to see Toki grow or being shown anything to make us believe this relationship is actually good for Toki. No, this show decided to make that claim entirely via an expository voiceover right before Toki literally chucked his diploma into the bushes to jump on Sahara and tell him he liked him. What a fucking metaphor and perfect encapsulation of the message from this disaster of a story.

This show was a mess with no idea what it was trying to say, no grasp on the dynamics it was playing with, and no care whatsoever for its characters or the messages it was putting out into the world. I don't respect it and I absolutely cannot recommend it.

[filmbrainbmb]

New Projector Short! Kicking off October with - what else? - a horror movie review, as a family home contains the ghost of their ancestral sins in the German flick Home Sweet Home: Where Evil Lives, which is staged as a single shot in real time!

Home Sweet Home: Where Evil Lives US Release Date: TBC

[dayoffogg]

First Come, First Serve (Papa Emeritus II x Reader) (Smut)

Secondo typically does not wake up an angry man like most would think. His eyes remain shut as he lays in his bed, a cool morning breeze washing over him as he thinks of the day ahead of him. He is thinking about the stack of paperwork atop his desk as his little brother often requires a peer review. A loud crash of glass shattering startles him to full consciousness. The once relaxed man is now whipping off his covers and rushing toward the door to his chambers to investigate.

As Secondo flings the door open, he is met with the sight of several nameless ghouls snarling and gnashing teeth at each other, a fight is clearly about to break out. He quickly notices what was once his morning pot of tea is now completely shattered on the ground. His papal paint isn’t even on and he can already tell this is going to be a shit day.

“Ghouls!” Secondo snaps, “This display is unnecessary and revolting. Get out of my sight,” he sneers at them, his white eye flashing angrily. He is met with a few hisses and whines but the ghouls scramble away leaving the mess for him to clean up.

After cleaning up the rest of the morning tea and the shards of porcelain he carelessly applies his skull paint with his fingers, pulls on his usual black leather gloves, and leaves his chambers. A scowl did not need to be painted onto his lips to show his dismay. The siblings of sin within the church seem to avoid him even more than usual, which is fine by him. 

The kitchen is practically empty, as most people had already moved on from the dining hall before Secondo even left his chambers. This means his breakfast is cold and quite unappetizing, which unfortunately left him almost queasy. With a couple of grumbles and complaints, he moves on to his office. As he kicks open the door, he’s met with another mess. The sibling of sin he had entertained last night was quite adamant about being bent over his desk. He recalls how the sibling swiped everything off of it and the sharp ringing noise that rattled a migraine into existence after all of his studies and work had been scattered. He had a mind and a half to take these frustrations out on the rather willing sibling, but currently, there is still a mess to be dealt with. 

The grumpy Papa kneels to begin picking up papers, but after merely picking up a few sheets of paper a horrible anger takes him over. He curses the mess and stomps out of his office, not wanting to be in the presence of such a mess that is most definitely his problem. His strides are long and angry as he makes his way to the Ministry’s library in hopes of finding a quiet space for a temporary office. 

The library tends to be a haven for most. It’s large, quiet, and antique books keep good company. Secondo typically found his relief here. Today is different though, because he finds the source of many of his frustrations is already there. A sister of sin with pretty painted lips and a stubborn mouth to pair with. She had been briefly assigned to fill in for his assistant who had to return home for a family emergency. While she had been a fantastic assistant, she also had purposefully made his day harder. Every once in a while she would misplace a paper to make him go on a wild goose chase for a single important document or schedule meetings a little too close together to force him to rush to the next one were some of her usual antics. But at the end of the day, when she would enter his office and curls her pretty lips into a smile of mischief at him, it never failed to make his cock harden in his pants. He hated the way she made him so willingly bend and obey the schedule she made for him. 

~~~

The frustration Secondo faced on the daily with her is still fresh. His face paint is beginning to smear as he hurries back to his office after a meeting. He had nearly trampled Terzo, who in turn yelled out a string of curses after his brother. Secondo nearly ripped his office door off the hinges as he walked in. All the hope he had for a quiet evening drained as he saw his current assistant sitting in his office chair with a mug of coffee, looking like the Cheshire cat.  

“You’re late,” She simply states.

Secondo rears his head at her, “For what?”

“The meeting with Mr. Saltarian,” 

Secondo gapes at her, neither he nor his usual assistant set that meeting up.

“He called yesterday, saying he was around and wanted to meet with you,” She further explains casually while lifting a mug to sip on. 

“But he wasn’t supposed to arrive until next week,”

“I guess he decided to come earlier,” She said, “Oops,” 

Secondo knew his face was red underneath his face paint. He seethes where he stands as she sits comfortably in his office chair. 

“Get out of my office,” he snaps at her, “and quit using my mugs for your tea,”

“Or what, Papa? Are you going to bend me over your knee like you did to Sister Belle?” She raised her eyebrows at him and slowly lifted the mug to take another long sip.

~~~

Secondo scowls with annoyance at the sight of her. He makes his way to the private rooms to set up a temporary office away from everything. The office he wants is at the very end of the hallway. It’s decorated to his taste with a fireplace and a large, darkly-stained desk. He opens the door to the study only to find a mess of papers and books sprawled out over the desk. And that’s when she takes advantage of the door he is holding open and slips inside the office he wants. She had claimed it seemingly hours ago. As she brushes past Secondo, he catches the faint scent of her shampoo.

 “Thank you,” She briskly says.

Nothing could have stopped the scoff that escaped Secondo’s mouth. She whips around, her enchanting eyes landing on him. Secondo steps forward into the room, letting the door shut behind him. 

“What’s your problem?” She curtly asks.

His fingers find the lock. “You.”

The soft click of the lock nearly echoes through the room and the spark of mischief in her eyes spurs him on. Secondo narrows his eyes at her and he closes in on her. She sets her books down on the desk just as he reaches her. 

“Ever since you filled in for my assistant-” Secondo is cut off by a soft but needy pair of lips pressing against his. 

Secondo bristles for a second as he realizes he’s been ignored and cut off once again by her. But this time, he decides to accept it. He kisses her back feverishly, his hands lifting to cup her face so his paint will stain her mouth further. Her kisses are fiery and passionate and it’s everything he imagined it would be. 

The soft, warm lips trail away from his lips and along his jaw. Soon his blazer is on the ground and is quickly joined by her veil. Secondo’s hand tangles into her hair as she kisses his neck. Her tongue grazes his neck and he relaxes into the feeling of her mouth against his neck until he feels the sharp nip of her teeth. He inhales sharply and uses the hand he has in her hair to pull her back to look down upon her. 

She looks smug with her head tilted back and her teeth bared in a proud grin. His blood on her teeth makes Secondo’s cock strain against his pants. There is little doubt that she’s satisfied with the mark she left on the exposed skin of his neck and even more so that she drew his blood. He has seen that look before.

 ~~~ 

Secondo rubs his temples as he listens to Nihil try to figure out how to set up the conference call with Sister Imperator and several other head members of the clergy. Nihil had insisted that he did not need help even though his age clearly showed as he struggled to contact the others. This was taking much longer than he had planned for. 

  She enters his office with no regard for his business, just as she usually does, and of course, he made his displeasure known with a scowl. As usual, she ignores it. This time she appeared to have a purpose to be in his office. Her arms are full with a stack of files and other loose papers. He turns his attention back to his phone, listening to Nihil and Imperator argue for a moment. 

The sound of shuffling had caught Secondo’s attention. Is she really messing up his things again? He turns his head to see what she is doing. His throat tightens. She is bent over at his filing cabinet, one hand braced against the wall as she thumbs through papers. He tries to turn his attention away, not expecting her sudden display when a slight sway of her hips draws his eyes back. Her already too-short dress had rode up, baring her soft thighs to him which are clad with black nylons. He considered pinning her against the filing cabinet and grinding himself against her exposed ass. Secondo’s breath grows shallow as she arches her back for him, enticing him to come closer. She turns her head to briefly make innocent eye contact with him.

“Hello?” Imperator’s voice had cut through his thoughts, “Hello? Secondo? Did we lose him?”

Secondo’s neck almost snaps with how quickly he looks away from her. 

“No no, sorry, just spacing out,” Secondo tried to explain his distractedness. 

He shuffles his feet to get more comfortable next to his wall phone. Nihil refuses to use or install any sort of wireless phone. Another source of Secondo’s frustrations. 

“Oh, we were just starting then,” 

“Right, yes,” Secondo acknowledged. 

  Another noise distracts Secondo, a soft thump. He casts his gaze down to see one of his ink pens on the ground. 

“Oops,” she quietly says.

 Secondo watches as she slowly kneels before him as if she is going to pick up his pen. She reaches out and picks up the pen but does not rise immediately. His mouth dries as she looks up at him with those pretty eyes through her dark eyelashes. He watches as she slowly drags her gaze down his chest and lands on the buckle of his belt. She boldly reaches out to set a hand on one of his thighs. He had not expected her to touch him, as most are not so brave, and he steps back into the bookshelf behind him.

“What was that? Was that you, Secondo?” Sister Imperator sharply asks.

She does not withdraw her hand. Secondo likes the feeling of her warm hand on his thigh. But he is also on the phone with a few of his superiors. 

“It was nothing,” Secondo strains.

Secondo reaches out, grabs her chin firmly between his thumb and first finger, and tilts her head back to get a better look into her eyes. He tries to scold her silently with a stern look, but instead, she parts her lips causing his thumb to slip between her lips. She teasingly closes her soft lips around him and begins to lightly suckle. His knees almost buckle at the feeling of her warm mouth around his thumb. He can almost imagine what it would feel like if her lips were wrapped around his hard cock instead. She looks proud of herself and the mess that she was making him.

~~~

“What?” She smugly asks, “Didn’t I do a good job?”

Secondo’s nostrils flare and he gives her hair another tug. “Ever since you filled in for my assistant, you’ve been toying with me. Making me run around The Ministry, interrupting my meetings,” 

“What are you going to do about it then?” 

Secondo’s jaw clenches. Without a second thought, he lets go of her hair, grabs her arm, and turns her around bending her over the desk he desired so much to work at. He grabs at the bottom of her dress, shoving it up over her hips. A pair of dark green panties is revealed and he starts tearing at her usual black nylons, desperately craving a better look at them. 

“Hey!” She calls out as he rips her nylons. 

“I’ll buy you more,” Secondo gruffly says. 

He can’t help but study the curve of her ass, appreciating the way the dark green panties pair nicely against her skin. She is wearing his colors and he loves it. But right now, he wants to see her ass turn a lovely shade of red. He pushes her dress up a little further letting his leather-clad fingers brush against the newly exposed skin. Her breath hitches as his palm connects with her ass. She arches her back for him. 

“You like that?” He muses, his voice growing more husky. 

She nods. Secondo scoffs and slaps her ass again.

“I want to hear you, sweetheart,” Secondo firmly says. 

“I like it,” She purrs, her voice drips with sultry like honey.

“Good girl,” Secondo praises her, “Turn around for me,” 

She turns around to face Secondo and he helps pull off her dress. Underneath a matching dark green bra is revealed. A shark-like grin appears on his face. 

 “I guess I picked the right colors to wear today,” She smirks up at him

“So you did, princess,” he smugly says as he guides her to lay back against the desk. 

Secondo takes a moment to admire her exposed body. “So beautiful,” he whispers to himself as he slides his hands down between her thighs to push aside her panties in one motion. With a hum of appreciation, he slips his fingers through her folds, appreciating the slickness. Her hips twitch at the touch of chill his leather gloves bring, but loves the feeling of the friction against her clit. When Secondo pulls his hand away, his glove is already slick from her, but he wants to feel her. He begins to take off his gloves.

“Leave them on,” She quickly says, stopping Secondo in his tracks. 

A slow smirk appears on Secondo’s face, “Very well,” He says as he dips his hand back between her legs. She hums with approval and she grinds herself back against his fingers. One of his fingers slowly slides into her and she lets out a soft moan of approval. He languidly thrusts his single finger, feeling the way she clenches around it. 

  “Ready for another?” He asks. 

  She nods, but remembers quickly to speak up, “Yes,” 

Secondo works in a second finger and he can’t help but imagine his cock buried deep inside of her warm, velvety walls. She moans with approval as he curls his fingers to brush them against the spot that makes her see stars. His thumb meets her clit, applying a delicious amount of pressure to make her hips buck. Her head is tilted back, her body arched, and everything about her screams pleasure. 

All of her little breath hitches and moans drive Secondo crazy. He slowly leans over, dipping his head to press a few kisses against her collarbone, and slowly begins to trail down to her breasts. With his free hand, he makes quick work to get her bra off and toss it aside. His mouth closes over her nipple, eliciting a pleased whimper as his tongue stimulates her. He moves over to the breast he neglected, lightly suckling on it and giving it the same treatment before kissing back to her neck. 

“Are you ready for me?” Secondo hotly whispers against her ear, being sure to nip at it once to make sure she is listening. 

“Yes, please,” She gasps out to him. 

Secondo slowly guides his fingers out of her, appreciating the way her walls shudder around them. He makes quick work of his belt and pants while she reaches up to undo the buttons of his shirt, which also soon hits the ground. Finally, he frees his cock with a quiet groan of relief. She wraps her legs around him, eagerly pulling him closer and encouraging him. The action causes Secondo to chuckle and he wraps a hand around his member, gliding his hand up and down it a few times before he leans over her and starts to push in.

  Her walls are warm and fluttering as she adjusts to his thickness. Both of them let out a moan of pleasure as he fills her. He guides himself in, glancing up to check on her for any signs of discomfort, but finding only need. 

“Good girl, you take me so well,” He praises after he pushes all the way in.

She squeezes around Secondo as he praises her and his head drops against her chest with a groan. It’s nearly too much for him. 

“Such a good girl,” Secondo whispers breathlessly. 

Secondo moves his hands to rest her hips, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles as he waits for her while he absent-mindedly kisses her breasts again. The slow stretch of his cock had her reaching out to grip the sides of the desk for something to hold on to. 

“Fuck,” She curses as she adjusts to his size. Testingly she begins to rock her hips causing his hips to buck. The sinful moan that falls from her mouth encourages him. He begins to move as well, thrusting his hips. She lowers her eyes to look at Secondo. Secondo promptly returns to lavishing her chest with kisses and licks and nips, absolutely worshipping her. Black and white paint smudges against her chest, marking her in his own way. Eventually, he makes his way to her neck, finding every sensitive area he can if only to hear another soft moan or whimper. 

The sound of their hips meeting and their needy breaths fill the room. Secondo tightens the grip he has on her hips, his gloves protecting her soft skin from his nails. He presses his lips to her ear. 

“Play with it,” Secondo whispers. 

It takes her a moment to register what he commanded through her pleasured haze. But soon her fingers find her clit. Secondo lifts his head from her neck to watch her play with herself as well as to watch as he disappears inside of her with every thrust. 

“Papa,” She softly moans out.

Secondo shivers as she moans his title and he starts to pick up the pace, leaning over her again for leverage.

“Look at me,” He growls out, starting to feel himself getting close. 

Secondo watches as she opens those enchanting eyes to meet his gaze. She looks nearly drunk with lust and pleasure. His breath catches in his throat at such a stunning sight. Her hair sprawled out on the desk, her cheeks flushed, and her chest littered with his face paint and love bites. 

“Say my name,” 

“Papa,” She breathlessly moans.

“No. Say. My. Name,” He firmly says.

She looks as if she is going to play another game, tease him, or hold off, but she decides to give him what she wants. 

  “Secondo,” She calls out needily. She feels that knot starting to form as she nears her release. Secondo’s thrusts start to grow a bit more erratic as he also nears his edge. 

“Come with me, be a good girl, and come with me,” Secondo sounds almost desperate, wanting to feel her walls flutter and squeeze around him as he comes. 

She lets out a soft whimper, focusing on reaching her own release. Secondo groans out and he buries himself deep within her and sinks his teeth into her shoulder. A white flash of hot pleasure rushes through her as his teeth meet her flesh, triggering her release with a loud moan. His cock twitches a few times before he comes inside of her. He releases her shoulder and presses a few kisses to the wound before he looks at her to check on her. 

Her lips are curled into a pleased and blissed smile, “You still have to replace my nylons,” 

Secondo chuckles deeply and slowly pulls out of her and adjusts her panties back into place. He grabs her chin and looks into her eyes. He craves to say something witty, something to tease her, but he settles, just this once. 

“Very well, cara mia,” Secondo says, deciding he will be buying her more than just black nylons. When he releases her chin he begins to pick up their discarded clothes. He helps her step into her dress and get her sleeves straightened out. Next, he situates her veil, soothing her hair down as best as he can. 

Secondo looks down at her and then over to the stuff she has sprawled out on the desk.

“I was here first,” She simply states, but her voice turns smug, “Besides, don’t you have an office to clean,” 

Secondo scowls down at her, snatching up his shirt and blaze, grumbling his frustrations under his breath. He fumbles with his buttons before her hands come to the rescue, returning the favor and helping him look presentable.

“I’ll bring by some coffee later,” She offers.

“Fine,” Secondo grumbles and he pulls on his blazer, picks up his items, and leaves the office. He’d never admit it, but he’s looking forward to her bringing him some coffee.  Thank you for reading! Here's my tip jar, thank you!

[ghulehthezombiequeen]

little sunshine. - rats!

cardinal copia x sister of sin!reader part 4.

masterlist. / little sunshine masterlist.

tag list: @gothicwonderlust, @siouxbauhaus, @millerthats (IDK WHY IT WOULDNT TAG ON PC IM SORRY), @jaymechaos

a/n: part four!!!! and there's rats!!! also please keep in mind that while I'm okay with writing slight suggestion, I am not comfortable writing smut. sorry!

warnings/things to note: female reader, semi-autistic Copia, more suggestive towards the end so please be 15+!

enjoy <3

word count: 2,774

"Ew, you said you were spending the night with who?!" your roommate Sister Leah asked with a grimace as you paced around your side of the room and started packing a duffel bag.

"Cardinal Copia. I told you, like, a thousand times already." You rolled your eyes.

"Girl. Don't think about going out with him. You're way out of his league. You deserve better than a stinky rat man!" Leah tried to talk you out of it, but you persisted. "Oh, come on. He's not that bad, actually! I'm just going over to review a couple of things and see if the rat rumor is true or not!"

Leah rolled her eyes. "Alright, whatever. Just be careful, yeah? Come straight back the second he touches you weirdly." she shriveled at the thought of her getting touched by him. You lightly smacked her knee.

"Don't be like that. Alright, I'm off! I'll see you tomorrow!" "Okay, be safe! Love you, bitch!" Leah called as you closed the door.

You hummed as you walked down the now-empty halls, greeting a few ghouls passing by on patrol. At exactly 8 o'clock, you knocked on his door.

You waited a few seconds, wondering if he was even inside before you heard him cursing in Italian as he shuffled about in there.

"Helloooo? Cardi? Did you lose a battle with the rats?" you called, teasing him. You heard him stutter and sigh before opening the door. "Ah! So- er.. Sister.. uh.. hi."

"Hi.~" you replied in a sweet tone, watching his face turn red. A few seconds pass with him just staring at you before you spoke up. "Are.. you going to let me in..?"

"Huh? Oh! O-Of course, come in, come in.." he opened the door wider for you to enter. One of the cages was open and a mischief of rats were squeaking and crawling around the floor. "Agh. Stupid thing- d-don't mind the mess, they were... um.. playing."

"Playing?" you chuckled, exploring his room for a bit before setting your bag down on the one side of his bed that wasn't cluttered. You noticed his desk was littered with papers from... the vet? Were these all for his rats?

"So, wait.. how many rats do you have?"

"Erm... I.. I don't even know. They, uh... they like to reproduce... a lot." he chuckled nervously, hiding his face in embarrassment afterward. "Eh... y-you can leave if you want, this is- this is really embarrassing, I know.."

You felt bad that he was now self-conscious about his pet rats. So you tried to cheer him up with a laugh. "No, no, it's okay! It's just their natural instinct, don't be embarrassed!"

You walked over to him and pulled his hands away from his face, chuckling softly as he started mumbling. "Oh no, you... you don't understand, Sister.." His face turned redder as your hands pried his away from his face, staring into your beautifully colored eyes.

"My rats... they're- they're my babies. I-I love every single one of them, e-especially the newborns. They are almost like my own children!" Copia was always afraid to bring up his rats, but you seemed to be okay with it. That brought at least some comfort and relief to him.

Oh, this guy was odd.

But you didn't care. In fact, you loved his quirkiness. "You know, I always wanted a pet rat. I think they're adorable. But I was always busy with life and stuff here at the ministry, so I could never take care of any sort of pet."

His eyes widened. "O-Oh, y-you do?"

You nodded. "Can I meet a few of them?"

Copia's face brightened, and you could tell how much he was relieved to hear that you were not only fine with the rats, but actually loved them yourself. "Of course you can! They're… um… all over the room," Copia looked down in embarrassment, there were some of the little rat babies running around. "I'm so sorry, this is so embarrassing…" Copia kept his head down as you chuckled at him.

You watched with a small smile as he started scurrying around his room and trying to collect as many rats as he could. "Oof.. B-Biscotti, amore mio, please come here.." he said towards a light tan colored rat, who scampered away from him which made him give up with a sigh.

Once a majority of the rats were on his shoulders and arms he came up towards you. "Here… I got them all, I think."

You noticed how cute the rat babies were on Copia's shoulders, they were looking at you curiously, their tiny sharp teeth showing. "Do you want to hold one?" Copia smiled, offering you a small white rat. "I'm sorry if they're… a little dirty."

"Aww!" you crooned in a higher-pitch voice, scooping the furry rodent into your hands and stroking its head. In return, the rat sniffed your thumb before nibbling on it gently to show its affection. "Hello, friend! She's so cute!! What's her name?"

Copia laughed and smiled. "I'm happy you aren't scared! H-Her name is Poof, she's only three weeks old. I-I call her Poof because one minute she's on my bed, a-and the next she's poof, gone." Copia chuckled. He was relieved you loved the rat as much as you seemed to.

"Poof? Well, that's very original of you." You chuckled playfully. Copia nodded sheepishly. "I- I've never been good at naming them. B-But anyway, Poof is a very playful and loving one. S-She'll try to climb up your shirt and lay near your neck."

As he spoke those words, Poof started to crawl under your habit sleeve and up your arm, her head now nuzzling against your neck. You giggled as you gently pulled her out of your clothing and perched her onto your shoulder. "She's a darling."

Copia chuckled a bit as well. "Oh, Poof.. you are something else, no?" he said to the rat as he picked her up and placed her in her cage, along with the rest of her rat siblings.

"Do you let them out often?" you wondered aloud, sitting on the edge of his bed and smoothing the winkles away from the blanket with your hand.

Copia nodded in response, "I usually let them out after I pick up their litter. It gives them time to run and have fun." He finished putting all the last of the rats back in their cage and then put his hand on the cage to close it. "Ah." you nodded.

He looked up at you. "I'm surprised you aren't disgusted by them; I've never met anyone else who isn't scared of them." Copia was still surprised because you handled Poof quite well, it wasn't often Copia met someone that was as comfortable with them as him.

You shrugged in response. "What's there to be scared about? I mean sure, wild ones might carry every disease known to mankind, but if they're pets, I'm okay with them." "Anyway..." You started to lie down on the bed, propping yourself up with your elbows. You were about to say something when a bright pink poster on the ceiling caught your eye. Was it...?

"You like Hello Kitty, huh?" you asked smugly.

Copia felt his heart drop. Shit. He forgot to take it off earlier! "Uhm... I.. w-well.. y-yes. I love Hello Kitty," he said as if he was embarrassed of his love for the Sanrio character. "I- I know it sounds kind of childish to like Hello Kitty... but I just think she's cute, okay?!"

You laughed softly. "I will admit it is sort of weird that a grown man likes Hello Kitty," you sat back upright. "But that means I learned about something you like! Soooo..." a smirk grew across your face. "Now I can get you something Hello Kitty as a thank you gift for the flower you gave me! Then we'd be even!"

"Oh no… please don't get me a Hello Kitty gift… i-it would really embarrass me…" Copia still looked embarrassed as he looked around his room. "It's just a thing I've always enjoyed... it's not like I'm obsessed with Hello Kitty or anything." Copia was making a lot of excuses, and they were quite obvious. "It was just a little bit of my childhood, but I'm not crazy for it or anything like that."

Your eyebrow raised, clearly unconvinced. "Mhm."

"I- I mean, w-why don't more guys like Hello Kitty, eh? She's s-so fun and cute, and her f-friends are, too!"

"Uh-huh."

He gulped. "Oh... Sorella- please, I promise I'm not a creep who likes Hello Kitty, I... it was a gift, see! Y-Yeah, a gift. From, eh..."

He continued to ramble about how he didn't like Hello Kitty, and you noticed more of the familiar chibi feline posted throughout his room. "Okay, Copia. Copia, stop!" You giggled as he now somehow got the topic to cats and how they would try to feed on his rat babies.

Copia froze and stared at you, his face flushed. "I'm not a creep... I promise..." he mumbled timidly.

"I never said you were." You smiled. "Okay, I promise I won't get you any Hello Kitty merch. For now." you added the 'for now' to tease, nudging him with your elbow.

Copia sighed in relief and nodded, then froze again at the 'for now.' This made Copia's mind spin, whirling desperately for a response. "...I'm not crazy for Hello Kitty... l-like I said, it's just a childhood thing I've kept around. I'm not... like... crazy for her or anything."

He kept mumbling about how Hello Kitty wasn't really that important, and you huffed with an eyeroll. There was only one way to shut him up.

In one swift movement, you tugged on his cape and pulled him in towards you, pressing a gentle but firm kiss on his lips.

Oh boy.

Copia's face got redder than a rose at the kiss and when he was pulled towards you, he was too surprised to even say something or do anything. He was as still as a statue, but eventually he kissed back, and that was your cue to pull away. "Now I know the secret to shutting you up!~" you teased in a sing-song voice, pecking the tip of his nose and releasing him.

"What.... what... uhm..." he stuttered, his brain malfunctioning.

You giggled at his reaction before noticing the time. 8:27pm.

"Hey, I think I'm gonna change into my pajamas so I don't have to do it later. Is that okay?" you asked, knowing the chances were high that he really didn't plan anything for this spontaneous sleepover. Maybe that was partially your fault, but what the hell. It was cute to see him fretting over the little things.

"E-Eh? Oh, yeah, uh.. please, go ahead and- and make yourself comfortable. Er.. the bathroom is right there." he pointed to the door nearby.

"Okay, thanks!" You said sweetly as you dug through your duffel bag, pulling out your pajamas and hairbrush.

"I-If you want to shower as well, I.. I could get you another towel, o-or if you want to shower in the morning, then that's fine, er-"

"Don't worry, I already showered before I came over. Thank you though, sweetie!" you teased as you walked into the bathroom, hearing him mumble in a flustered tone.

"Oh, a-alright. Just go get changed, I guess..." Copia's voice trembled and he felt like he was going to say something romantic. "I'll miss you... for those 4 minutes." Copia called towards the now-closed door, trying to be flirtatious.

Oh, how you loved that silly little rat man.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A sigh of relief left you as you changed out of your habit, putting on a more comfortable set of clothing. However, it did look a bit... revealing, which you hadn't noticed until they were actually on your body. You were wearing a low-cut black crop top with a cartoon cow on the front, and matching cow-print shorts that barely covered your upper thigh. It was cute on you, but you wondered how Copia would react to such revealing clothing on you as he'd only seen you in your habit.

You smirked as you checked yourself out in the mirror, gaining more and more confidence as you imagined his embarrassed face when you walked out. You took a few selfies first (maybe you'd post them later on your story), then walked out and saw that Copia had changed into his own pajamas, a deep blue button-up silk pajama top and plaid pajama pants.

He was sitting in bed with a TV remote in one hand, too engrossed in deciding what movie he thought you'd like to watch. The poor guy almost jumped out of his skin when your sweet voice entered his ear, "Ooh, what are we going to watch?"

"Ah!- S-Sister, uhm- w-wow, uh.. I- I mean!" Copia did a double-take as he stared at your figure, a deep blush on his face yet again. He wanted to compliment you, but every sentence that entered his mind felt like it would make him sound like a creep.

"Er... H-Here, come sit next to me," he finally spoke, patting the spot next to him on the bed. You laughed lightly, crawling under the covers and sitting next to him. "What, eh.. what do you want to watch? Y-You can pick..."

"But what if I want to watch whatever you want to watch?" you teased, grabbing the pillow behind his back and holding it in your arms.

However, Copia wasn't anticipating that, and he accidentally hit the back of his head on the headboard. "Ah, shit!"

You instantly felt terrible. "Oh, no! Are you alright?! I'm so sorry, that sounded like it hurt!" You sat up straighter, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Ehh, I-I'm fine, Sorella- Non è niente, is nothing!" he tried to reassure you, rubbing the back of his head.

"No, you don't look fine. Here, let me see." You grabbed his face gently and pushed it into your chest, staring down at the back of his head and running your fingers through his hair to try and see if there was a lump forming.

Oh... that was definitely on purpose, wasn't it?

Copia's face felt like it was on fire as it was smothered into your cleavage, his heart jackhammering against his ribcage. He didn't think he could take much more as he practically died of embarrassment right then and there. This was definitely not on his radar for your guys' date night.

A sly grin spread across your face as your fingers ran through the soft strands of his hair, pretending to search for a wound. "Hmm.... you look fine. Oh well."

You lifted his face upwards to meet your gaze, his face redder than Hello Kitty's bow. "S- uh.. I... er..." he stammered, making a fool out of himself. He knew you were bold, but he didn't expect you to be that bold!

You decided to take pity on the poor guy. "Hey, you okay? Maybe we should get back to picking out a movie." you offered, pressing a small kiss to his forehead.

"Oh, uh, yeah... I'm fine... just fine." Copia looked like he was going to die from the amount of blushing he was doing, his mind was racing with thoughts of the situation he was in right now; it all felt like a dream to him. "Y-Yeah, let's get to the movie, pick whatever you want, I don't mind."

You both scrolled through the movies that were available for a while before making him stop on American Psycho. "Wait, how about this one? Have you seen it before?" you asked.

"Eh.. n-no.. I haven't. I love horror movies, yes, b-but I haven't found interest in this one. I-It looks sort of cheesy." he mumbled.

"Ooh! Oh my gosh, this one is really good. I promise you'll like this one. It's about a serial killer!"

"Oh, I see. O-Okay, well... do you want to watch it?" he asked, to which you nodded. He pressed the play button and you two sat in silence, watching the movie.

"Eh... are you hungry? I- I have some popcorn if you want some, or do you want a different snack?"

"Mm, I'm okay. I've got my own snack right here." You smirked, draping your arm around his shoulders, slowly started to snuggle into him.

He muttered something under his breath in Italian, his face scarlet. You chuckled and nudged him in a teasing manner before he started leaning into your warmth and watching the movie with you.

~~~

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