#aka that’s for me to know and you to find out

[inkandapex]

You're worth it

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando Norris and Y/N share an undeniable connection, but the pressures of F1 and personal hesitation have kept them in the "just friends" zone. Despite their close bond, an unspoken tension hangs between them, each moment charged with what-ifs. With a little nudge from fate, aka, their best friend Max, the two are pushed to give things another shot. Will Lando find the courage to make his move, or will Y/N slip through his fingers, forever just out of reach?

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: swearing, light angst, mentions of anxiety.

Lando’s season had been anything but smooth sailing. Sure, the car was leagues ahead of where it had been, delivering near-constant podiums and even his long-awaited first race win. He was sitting second in the championship, closer to the title than he’d ever been. On paper, it was a dream season. But pressure had a funny way of twisting even the sweetest moments into something suffocating.

Lando had always been good at managing the weight of the sport—keeping his mind sharp, his body stronger. But even the best-built machines showed signs of wear. His friends saw it in the way his laughter didn’t reach his eyes. His team noticed the uncharacteristic silence between debriefs. His fans, ever watchful, caught glimpses of something heavier behind the usual smiles.

Now, with a rare break in the chaos, it was clear that he didn’t just need rest. He needed reinforcements.

“The food I ordered half an hour ago? Yeah… they just told me the restaurant’s actually closed now,” Lando muttered

Max blinked, mouth slightly open. “So… they told you there’s no food, and you died on Tarkov? That’s a double fucking shitter, my jeez.” He dragged a hand down his face, visibly pained for his best mate.

Lando let out a defeated laugh. “Hasn’t exactly been the best couple of months for me, really.”

Max exhaled. “Mate, you need a personal chef or something. You’ve got too much on your plate.”

“I actually have nothing on my plate right now, funnily enough.”

“Right, well—eating weeks-old frozen food from your fridge isn’t exactly the fix, is it?” Max sighed, already knowing that’s exactly what Lando was about to do.

"Don't really have much of a choice now don't I mate?"

"Chat's saying you need a girlfriend" Max states rather matter of factly

"You could say that again"

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A series of persistent knocks, followed by the sharp buzz of his phone vibrating against the nightstand, dragged Lando from the depths of sleep. He groaned, squinting against the soft morning light that seeped through the curtains, his brain sluggish as he reached for his phone.

A slight frown tugged at his face when he saw the caller—one of his closest friends. A couple of missed calls from both them and Max F. only deepened his confusion. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he pulled his hoodie over his head and shuffled toward the door, answering the call as he went.

“Y/N? I just woke up—sorry, could you give me a minute? I’ll call you back, someone’s at the—” He stopped mid-sentence, mid-step.

Because standing on the other side of the door, phone still pressed to their ear, was Y/N. Bags in hand.

"Hey… Max told me you knew I was coming. Him and P just dropped me off. They’re out running a couple of errands," Y/N said, ending the call and slipping her phone into her pocket.

Lando blinked at her, still processing. "No, actually, he didn't. I didn’t even know he was coming here. Did you just get here, or?"

"I landed about two hours ago," she said with a soft laugh. "Been standing here for the past twenty minutes, though."

"Shit, my bad, Y/N. I really didn’t know." Lando sighed, running a hand through his hair, his brain scrambling to recall any moment where Max might have maybe mentioned this.

"Hey, it’s all good! Sorry for dropping by all of a sudden—I really should’ve reached out beforehand anyway. I just thought you and Max had already sorted it out."

"What? No, Y/N, don’t apologize, silly." Lando finally snapped out of his trance and stepped aside. "Come in—fuck, I mean, the apartment’s a mess, but make yourself at home." He quickly reached for some of her bags, ushering her inside before shutting the door behind them.

"What exactly did Max say?" Lando finally asked, still scrambling to pick up the mess scattered across his living room. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to see you, but this is just so... out of the blue."

"Honestly? He was worried," Y/N admitted, grabbing a few stray items to help. "Said you didn’t seem to be doing too well. Thought maybe you could use some company during the break. Listen, Lando, I came here thinking you knew about this. I completely understand if you’d rather be alone right now—I know you’re busy and all—"

"No!" Lando cut in, pausing mid-cleanup. His expression softened, and for the first time since opening the door, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease. "I'm… I'm really glad you're here. Max is right. It hasn’t been easy." He exhaled, offering her a small, tight-lipped smile. "Thank you. For being here. I really appreciate it."

Then, with a playful tilt of his head, he spread his arms. "You gonna hug me, or are you just gonna stand there?"

Y/N let out a small laugh, relief washing over her as she finally saw that familiar spark in his eyes. Taking a few steps forward, she let Lando wrap her in a tight hug, his hold warm, grounding. Exactly what he hadn’t realized he needed.

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The first day of Y/N being there was more housekeeping than anything else. Between cleaning up Lando’s apartment, clearing out the fridge, and fixing up the guest room, the day passed in a blur of chores. By the time Max and P finally arrived, the boys volunteered to head out and pick up some late lunch—partly because there was absolutely nothing to eat at Lando’s place, and partly so Max could finally discuss the sly plan he had cooked up.

A heavy silence filled the car as Lando gripped the wheel, his knuckles tightening against the leather.

"You’re awfully quiet," Max finally said, side-eyeing his best friend from the passenger seat.

"Oh yeah? Wonder why," Lando bit back. "Maybe ‘cause my best friend decided to go behind my back and plan shit without telling me. The fuck were you thinking not mentioning she was coming over to stay?"

"Mate, it was all in good conscience," Max said with an exaggerated sigh. "Plus, what happened between you two… it was months ago—"

"Exactly!" Lando snapped. "I haven’t even been back home to talk about it since. Fuck’s sake, Max… it’s weird enough I haven’t seen her in ages, but springing this on me? That’s insane, even for you."

Max groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "Why can’t the two of you just admit you like each other like the grown, mature adults you supposedly are and get on with it? It’s honestly exhausting."

"You know why."

"I actually don’t. Please, do explain. I’d love to hear whatever shit excuse you’ve got lined up. Go on then."

Lando let out a slow, tired sigh. "I’m busy, she’s busy. I can’t just drag her along with me and make her leave everything behind so we can be together. And you know how the media is, Max. I don’t want her dealing with all that hate. You’ve seen how bad it gets."

Max scoffed. "And what do you think she just did? She dropped everything to be with you when you needed her, yeah? Her choice. She’s already doing work at Quadrant—her own volition, might I add—on top of her own career. And might I remind you, you were the one who didn’t want to go through with it. From what I heard, she was willing to make it work."

"Yeah?" Lando let out a dry laugh. "From what you heard?"

Max smirked. "Fine. P told me."

"Lando, mate. If it all goes to shit—not that I think it will—I’m sure you’ll sort it out. She cares about you. And I know you feel the same way about her."

Lando sighed, pulling into the parking lot and turning off the engine. He leaned back against the seat for a moment before finally looking over at Max.

"I know you have good intentions," he admitted. "And despite how insane this is, I do appreciate it. I’ll… see where it goes." Then, with a smirk, he nodded toward the door. "Now go pick up the food, ‘cause I’m fucking starving."

Max narrowed his eyes, pointing a finger at him as he unbuckled his seatbelt. "This conversation is not over, by the way."

Lando just laughed, shaking his head as Max climbed out of the car.

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Lando woke up to the unfamiliar yet oddly comforting sounds of pots clanking and the scent of food filling his apartment. It was so foreign that, for a second, he thought he was dreaming. Rubbing his eyes, he stumbled out of his room, hair a complete mess, barely awake.

"Morning," Y/N greeted, smiling as she wiped her hands on a tea towel. "There’s breakfast on the counter. I’ve got meals sorted out for the rest of the week—followed your diet, so don’t worry."

Lando blinked at her, then at the kitchen, which now looked like a fully stocked catering service. "It’s 9 in the fucking morning, Y/N. What time did you get up for all this?"

"Like… 6:30?"

"Y/N"

"What? I have jet lag."

Lando squinted at her. "We’re in Monaco. London is one hour behind."

"Okay, fine," she sighed. "I wanted to make sure I had it ready for you. It’s nothing, really—it didn’t take me too long."

"Nothing?" Lando gestured at the sea of neatly packed containers. "My kitchen looks like McLaren hospitality right now."

"It’s not a big deal, Lan, really, I—"

Lando didn’t let her finish. He reached out, gently grabbing her hand and stopping her from cleaning. "Could you—please slow down for a sec?" His voice was softer now, his brows furrowing as he tilted her chin up so she’d look at him. "Y/N, you don’t have to do all this. You don’t have to take care of me."

Lando sighed deeply, his arms instinctively pulling Y/N into a tight hug. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his heart heavy. "I don't deserve you."

Y/N’s arms wrapped around him, her voice soft as she spoke, her thumbs tracing gentle circles on his back. "You have me, either way"

Lando pulled back just enough to look at her, his expression clouded. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to find the words. "Look, Y/N... we can't. I can't do this right now. What I said about us—about this, months ago... that's still how I feel. I like you... a lot, trust me, I do. But this is too much, and I can't possibly ask you to—"

He couldn’t keep eye contact, his gaze drifting as if the weight of everything was too much to bear.

Y/N took a step back but stayed close, her eyes searching his. She offered a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "I get it, Lan. I’m here for you. As a friend." She took a deep breath. "What I said, about me wanting to be here... to do this with you... I meant that too. I still feel that way. I told you I can wait. You’re worth it."

"You two done being sappy, or should I give you a couple more minutes?" Max's voice echoed through the apartment, making both Lando and Y/N jump and scramble to step away from each other in a panic.

"You little shit, how long have you been stood there listening? You fucking weirdo." In a swift motion, Lando grabbed the nearest object, a spatula, and tossed it across the room. It flew past Max’s head, narrowly missing him as he stood frozen in the middle of the living room.

"So sorry, guys. I told him not to come in without knocking." P finally steps into the apartment, giving Max a pinch on his side. Max let out an exaggerated yelp, squirming away from her with a pained expression.

"Ow! Everyone’s so violent this morning," Max groaned, rubbing his side as P smirked, clearly satisfied with herself.

"You're ridiculous. Just gonna run to the bathroom real quick then we can have breakfast and plan the rest of our day" Lando shook his head with a groan, but a small, amused smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he leaves the room

Max took the chance to walk over to Y/N, who was quietly setting the table for breakfast. "You good?" he asked, his voice low, careful not to let Lando hear.

Y/N glanced up at him with a soft, knowing smile. "Take a wild guess, Max. Bet you heard enough to figure out how I'm doing right now." She let out a quiet laugh, but it was tinged with something he couldn’t quite place, defeat, maybe?

Max took a breath, his tone shifting to something gentler, more understanding. "Look, he... you know how he is. As much as I want this for the two of you, you don’t have to wait for him. He can’t just expect you to be there until he’s finally ready. No one’s gonna hold it against you." His voice dropped.

Y/N shook her head slightly, her smile softening. "You’re really sweet, Max, but I’m okay. I promise." She was careful, though, making sure her words felt sincere.

Max gave her a small, thoughtful nod. "Just trying to look out for the two of you is all."

"I know," Y/N replied. She didn’t need Max’s concern to know what was best for her, but it was comforting, knowing that someone understood.

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Several races had passed since Y/N was last at Lando's apartment. Despite the distance, they’d kept in close contact—calls, texts, little check-ins whenever they could steal a moment. Lando was clearly doing better, each conversation revealing just how much he’d grown over the past few weeks.

Now, it was the Singapore Grand Prix weekend, and Y/N had finally managed to take some time off work. She’d been counting down the days until she could see Lando again, her excitement mingled with the kind of nervous energy that had been building up ever since she booked her flight. The anticipation was almost unbearable, especially when she considered how much her feelings for him had grown since their last conversation.

Despite the distance, despite all the unsaid things, she found herself thinking about him more and more, how his laugh had sounded over the phone, how his presence felt like a comfort when they’d been together. But now, standing outside of Mclaren's hospitality, waiting for Lando to step out his driver room after finishing free practice, everything felt good.

"Y/N! Hey, haven’t seen you around in a while. How have you been?" Zach, a close friend of Oscar Piastri, and someone Y/N had become friends with, walked over with a smile.

"Zach, it’s good to see you. I’m great, just been busy with work is all. The car seems good, Lando and Oscar are driving really well too" Y/N replied with a warm smile, happy to see a familiar face in the paddock.

"Things are looking great. We’re doing really well in the constructors, too. You waiting for Lando?" Zach asked, leaning against the railing casually.

"Mhmm, I’m catching a ride with him back to the hotel. He texted me, he’d be out in a bit." Y/N explained, glancing down at her phone to check for any updates from Lando.

"Right... listen. Are you free any time this weekend? Maybe even after the race? I was thinking—"

"Ready to go?" Lando's voice cut in, and he walked over to the pair, bag slung over his shoulder and phone in hand. "Oh, hey man, sorry, we gotta go. Got some friends waiting for us."

Zach smiled, stepping back. "Oh, don’t let me hold you back. I’ll see you around, Y/N. You still got my number, right?"

"Yep, I’ll catch up with you next time," Y/N said, giving Zach a friendly nod.

"Perfect. Hope you enjoy the weekend. It’s great having you back in the paddock," Zach said with a grin, stepping in to give Y/N a quick hug before patting Lando’s arm as he walked past. "Great stuff today, man. See you around."

Lando raised an eyebrow, his voice laced with slight bitterness as they walked toward the parking lot. "Didn’t know you two were close like that."

Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Yes, hello to you too, Lando. So great to see you after months, feels fantastic to finally be here with you."

Lando chuckled, though it was clear there was a hint of jealousy in his voice, "I didn’t mean it like that, just... you two seemed pretty chummy." He smirked at her, trying to play it off.

Y/N leaned back in the passenger seat, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Don't know, I actually think he's pretty cute."

Lando almost slammed the door shut in frustration, his face twisting into a scoff. "Cute? Right."

"What? You jealous?" Y/N teased, barely able to suppress the grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"I'm not," Lando grumbled, eyes focused on the road but his jaw clenched slightly.

"You so are. Your ears are red."

"I'm not" he repeated, his voice tinged with defensiveness.

"So you don't mind if I go out for dinner with him after the race then?" Y/N raised an eyebrow, her tone light but with a little edge, just to push his buttons. It was playful, but they both knew the boundaries—they weren’t together, not officially.

"No."

"No, you don't mind?" Y/N repeated, pressing him further.

"No, you can't" Lando snapped back, his hand gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly.

"Why?" she asked innocently, though a knowing smile played at her lips.

"Cause then you'll miss my victory party," Lando replied with a sly smirk, glancing over at her briefly.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, pretending to be unimpressed. "Oh wow, cocky now, are we?" She let out a laugh, though deep down, she couldn't ignore how his confidence was somehow making him all the more attractive.

"Wow" Lando gasped dramatically, glancing over at her with exaggerated disbelief. "You don't think I'll win this weekend? You're breaking my heart, darling."

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. "Don't get too cocky, Norris. The race isn't over until it's over."

"True," he said, eyes twinkling with amusement. "But I like to think I’ve got this in the bag. You better be there to celebrate my win, Y/N."

She met his gaze, her playful teasing giving way to something softer, something more real. "We'll see," she replied, a small but genuine smile on her face. "But if you win, I'll begin to think I'm your lucky charm."

Lando nodded, a hint of satisfaction in his expression. "You just might be."

------------------------------------------------------------

"We’ve got this in the bag, Lando. Stick to Plan A, do what you do best, and we’ll take care of the rest. Focus on the drive, and if anything shifts, we’ll adjust. We’re counting on maximum points from you two tonight." Will, Lando's race engineer, pauses, his eyes locking with Lando's, waiting for confirmation after his brief but crucial words.

"Lando."

"Yeah yeah. Maximum points, drive fast, got it." Lando mutters, his response flat, his attention half there. As important as this race is, his mind keeps drifting back to Y/N. She’s in the garage, talking with Zach. His Y/N. The thought pulls at him in a way he can’t shake.

Will’s voice cuts through the haze. "I need 100% of your focus, Lando. The race starts in 30." He hands him his earplugs, but Lando’s gaze is distant.

"Yep, heard." Lando mutters again, his tone quieter, his mind still elsewhere as he turns to leave, the weight of his thoughts lingering like an anchor.

Y/N and Zach were in the middle of an easy, lighthearted conversation. Lando, across the garage, could only watch, his gaze sharpening as he noticed how comfortable Y/N and Zach looked together. The laughter between them, the way they stood too close, it ate at him.

"Y/N, can I talk to you for a minute?" Lando’s voice cut through the air, direct and intense, as he strode toward them.

Y/N looked up at him, surprised but giving him a warm smile. "Yeah, what’s up? You nervous?" She didn’t get up from her seat, still in that calm, relaxed mood.

"Alone" Lando said, his tone sharper now, as the urgency in his words broke through.

"Oh—yeah, of course." She rose to follow him, a furrow crossing her brow, concerned by the intensity in his eyes. They walked towards a quieter corner of the garage, far enough from prying eyes and cameras.

As soon as they were alone, she looked at him. "Is everything okay? Do you need me to call Max or—"

Lando didn’t give her a chance to finish. "I don’t like this. You and him, talking... being all flirty. I don’t like it." The words spilled out of him faster than he could stop them, relief and frustration flooding his chest. It was all coming out at once.

Y/N blinked, trying to keep her voice steady. "I’m not flirting, Lando. He’s just a friend."

Lando’s frustration reached its peak. "I’m just a friend, Y/N! Fuck’s sake... I can’t get in the car like this, not with this on my mind. Not like this." He ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated.

She stepped closer, her voice soft but firm. "Hey, Lan. What’s going on? You wanted this—actually, no, you didn’t want anything right now, did you? You said so yourself. I’m not doing this to make you jealous or get back at you, He's just a friend. That’s it."

But Lando shook his head, his voice shaking with vulnerability. "I don’t know what I want, okay! But seeing you... with him? I don’t want to lose you, Y/N. I can’t lose you."

A soft laugh escaped her lips, though it held a touch of sadness. She gently took his hands in hers, stopping him from messing up his hair further. "You’re not gonna lose me, you silly boy."

Lando looked at her, searching her eyes for some sign that she understood, that she felt the same pull. "One kiss. Give me one kiss. Let’s pretend nothing else matters. Just right now, right here, with you. One kiss before I go." His voice was a whisper, full of longing and desperation.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as she met his gaze, her eyes softening. She cupped his face, her thumb brushing across his jawline as she spoke quietly, almost to herself. "Nothing else matters... I don’t have to pretend. You’re all I want, Lando. Why can’t you see that?"

Lando exhales quietly, his fingers grazing her cheek as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. They stand close, the world around them fading into the background, neither in a rush to break the moment. Their eyes meet, lingering, only flickering downward for the briefest second before finding each other again.

"You take corners faster than this—are you gonna kiss me, or should I send in a request for DRS?" Y/N teases, tilting her head with a smirk.

Lando leans in, closing the small space between them, his lips pressing firmly against hers. It’s not their first kiss, there had been fleeting moments before, small pecks here and there, brief touches exchanged in passing, but this is different. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. Their movements are unhurried, deliberate. It’s a kiss that speaks of everything unspoken, deep and certain, carrying the weight of something that had been waiting to happen.

She’s the first to pull away, though neither of them really want to. But reality tugs at Lando, he has somewhere to be.

Before stepping back, he presses a lingering kiss to her lips, another lighter one at the corner of her mouth. His lips brush her cheek, then her forehead, a quiet farewell without words. When he finally pulls away, he catches the flush creeping up her neck and smirks.

"I'm quick when it matters," he murmurs. "But some things are worth taking my time on."

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It was the kind of weekend that felt almost predestined, Lando wins in Singapore, by a massive 20-second gap to Verstappen in P2. But even with the trophy in his hands and the roar of the crowd in his ears, his eyes searched for only one thing.

And there she was.

Among the sea of faces, hers stood out effortlessly, beaming with pride, hands clapping in celebration. The victory was unforgettable, but this moment, seeing her there, cheering for him, was the one he’d carry with him forever.

Lando could hardly sit still. He’d been rocking on the balls of his feet, barely paying attention to the post-race interviews with Oscar, his mind already somewhere else. The second the cameras cut off, he was up, grabbing his things in record time, making Oscar chuckle at his urgency.

"Word in my garage is you’ve got yourself a little lucky charm now," Oscar smirked, watching as Lando fumbled with his phone, already dialing Y/N.

"Word spreads fast, huh?"

"Finally made a move?"

"Yeah, took me long enough," Lando laughed, giving his teammate a quick pat on the back as he pressed his phone to his ear.

The call barely rang before her teasing voice filled his speaker. "Why hello there, champ. Miss me already?"

A grin stretched across Lando’s face, warmth creeping up his chest. "Always, baby. Where are you? Need my post-race kiss, like, now."

"On your left."

Lando spun around, immediately spotting her seated outside the motorhome with Max and P. He didn’t even bother ending the call properly, just stuffed his phone in his pocket and made a beeline for her.

"There he is! Mr. 20-second lead. Mate, you were proper flying—"

Max didn’t even get to finish before Lando stopped behind Y/N’s chair, tilting her chin up and leaning down to kiss her. This one deeper, lingering, completely unbothered by the fact that they had company.

"Shit—when did this happen?" Max gaped, his arm tightening around P as if he needed something to ground him.

"Just before the race. Can’t believe you’re only finding out now, thought the whole paddock knew by now," Lando chuckled, hands rubbing Y/N’s shoulders as she sat there, visibly flustered, still adjusting to the attention.

"Well, damn. About time."

Y/N glanced up at Lando, still a little dazed, but the way he was looking at her, like she was the only thing in the world that mattered, made her forget about everything else. He pressed one last kiss to the top of her head before leaning down, voice just for her.

“You’re my good luck charm.”

She laughed softly, squeezing his hand. “Guess that means I have to stick around then, huh?”

Lando grinned, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. “Oh, baby, you’re not going anywhere.”

[sinofwriting]

Burning Satisfaction - Charles Leclerc (Dark Fic) (Part One)

Words: 1,177 Summary: People always said that Charles would do the right thing, they just never actually expected him to do it. Note(s): Slightly Dark Fic, Age Gap of 7/8 years (Reader is 20), Gasly!Reader, Reader is Pierre’s younger sister, barely any physical descriptors are given for reader so she could be adopted (as is usually the case for all my sibling!reader fic). Also Charles calls her ‘Petit’ because she is the youngest aka littlest Gasly. There will be a part two!

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“Cha?” He turns at the nickname, beaming at the girl.

“Petit! I didn’t know you would be coming today.” He’s unable to stop himself from looking her up and down, wishing the marks he left on her just yesterday were visible.

Her eyes dart downwards, fingers tugging at the hem of her top. “I need to talk to you.”

The quietness of her voice makes his smile drop and he sets his drink on the bar, wrapping an arm around her and ushering her into his bedroom on the yacht. Happy that everyone is still out on deck while he had left to grab himself a drink while taking a quick call.

“What is wrong, petit?” Charles asks, voice as gentle as he can make it as he guides her to sit on the edge of the bed, easily joining her, so he doesn’t have to remove his arm.

She takes a shaky breath, eyes focused on her hands that are now resting her lap, fingers twitching and he reaches with his free hand, stilling the nervous movements.

He says her name, her head nearly snapping upwards at it, the sound of him saying it nearly unfamiliar to her. “It is just me. You can tell me anything.” He squeezes her hands.

Another shaky breath exits her mouth and he watches as her throat bobs as she swallows harshly. “I,” she pauses, licking her lips. “I think I’m pregnant.”

His hand that had been unknowingly rubbing soothing circles on her back freezes for a split second.

“It’s just, I’m late. And I’ve never been late. And I didn’t lie about being on birth control, Cha, I promise! I know we used condoms and I don’t think any of them broke, but I’m late, and I’ve thrown up the last three mornings from the smell of eggs.” Tears are streaming down her face, her words growing more frantic, but he’s unable to speak. “But, please Cha, you have to believe me, I take my pill every day. At nine am, no matter what. I have an alarm set.” Her breathing is now choppy and he finds his words, shushing her.

“I believe you. I’ve seen your alarm, it is okay.” He soothes, lifting his hand from hers and wiping away her tears that are still falling. “Have you taken a test?”

She bites her lip, shaking her head. “No. I bought one, it’s in my bag, but I needed to tell someone.”

“So you came to me.”

She nods and it burns how he has to stop himself from looking satisfied at the answer.

“How about, you drink this and we will talk.” He reaches for the water bottle on his nightstand, smiling at the giggle she lets out when he has to lay flat on his back to awkwardly reach it while still keeping contact with her.

“You have options.” He says, the words burning, the idea of all of them burning him, though one for a very different reason.

“I know.” She says, after taking a drink of water. “But I want this baby, if I am. It’s just,” She pauses again, looking so shy and unsure it makes him move closer.

“What? It’s just what?”

She looks at him shyly, fingers back to pulling at her top before he intertwines them with his. “There’s a difference between having sex before marriage and a baby out of wedlock.”

His breath hitches at the words, at the shy suggestion. His want and satisfaction overwhelm him, his grip on her hand tightening, but before she can apologize or take the words back, he lifts her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it, hoping she can feel his love and devotion to her through the small action. “I would happily marry you if you are pregnant.” The last four words are forced out of his mouth in an odd way.

“I know how much your faith matters to you.” His eyes focus on the necklace she is always wearing, the cross hidden behind her t-shirt, a gift from Pierre when she had turned twelve. “And I would never ask that you sacrifice it like that.”

“It wouldn’t just be the baby if we were to get married. I, I want a real marriage, like my mama and papa.”

He smiles, “we can have a real marriage. I would not mind having one with you.”

“But if you found someone else?”

Charles shakes his head. “I don’t believe that will happen.” His voice is so firm, so certain, that he sees the slight uncertainty leave her eyes. “Now, finish your water.”

She immediately lifts the bottle to her lips and he has to look away before he smiles at the easy way she listened to him.

He is thankful it doesn’t take her long to have to use the bathroom and he watches as she gets up and goes to the small bathroom attached, the door closing with a quiet click.

As soon as it does, he’s unable to stop the wide smile that spreads across his face. Head dropping into his hands as he lets out a silent laugh. It had been a gamble if it would work, getting her pregnant. And really he is lucky, she was unlike Pierre, still unpracticed at sex at nineteen, or rather twenty now, and not realizing she should not feel so much leaking out at the end. But it worked. He had gotten her pregnant. Just barely eight weeks after the first time they had sex.

The flush of the toilet has him raising his head from his hands, body itching to stand and open the bathroom door, to stare at the test and watch as it makes his want for her to fully be his, finally be true.

The bathroom door opens with a small click and he smiles at her, opening his arms for her and she doesn’t hesitate, easily sitting on his lap so he can hold her.

“And now we wait?” He asks, running a hand up and down her back.

She takes a shaky breath. “And now we wait.”

The feeling of her in his arms is enough to stop him from going to the bathroom, to stare at the counter and watch as the test changes. It is all too easy for him to lose himself in her warmth, the smell of her, the brushes of her breath against his neck as she breathes in and out.

“Do you think it’s been five minutes?” Her quiet voice breaks the stillness of the room after a while.

“I think so.”

She’s slow to pull away from him, but before she can try and stand, he grabs her waist, keeping her where she is, before one hand raises to gently hold her face, eyes meeting.

“No matter what the test says, it will be okay. We will figure it out.” Charles tells her, waiting for her to give a nod before pressing their lips together in perhaps one of the most chaste kisses they’ve ever shared.

[hedwig221b]

Do you have anymore accidental knotting fics like The Moon Gave Me Permission? Like, stiles doesn't even know werewolves exist until oops, I knotted?

I admit, this is a bit too specific, but maybe you'll like these fics

only one thing left by Marishna

"Anyway, you’ve been requested.” Stiles blinked. “Requested? What does that mean? For what?” “A dance,” Erica told him. “Is it baby’s first time?”

Theia Mania by aprettysmalldose

'that one classy-ass fic where stiles gives it up to derek in a grocery store'

Eclipsim by xxjinchuurikixx

A howl far in the distance splits the air, and Stiles’ eyes fly open as he shoots back up into a sitting position. The howl is followed by another, and another, and Stiles is left to wonder how many of the howls are wolves and how many are mythic beasts that he knows by name. The forest is in an uproar in a manner of minutes, and Stiles looks up at the bloody red moon gleaming, almost completely taken over by the fire of the eclipse. Red moons are apparently not a good time for alphas. Derek shows Stiles what a feral, aroused werewolf looks like up close.

That Frothing Knob

Stiles was wiping down the spout of a machine with a cloth, and Derek almost popped a stiffy right there in the café. It was completely embarrassing that after so many years of control over both his human and wolf side Derek would find himself so… enamoured by this random. Regardless, the wolf wants what the wolf wants, and Derek found himself trying his darnedest to get some sort of a rise out of Stiles, “You sure know how to handle that frothing knob.” Needless to say, Derek got to see that beautiful blush colouring the barista’s face once again. -- AKA Derek is a rich CEO and Stiles is a poor barista. They laugh, they love, and they live.

Watching Your Back(side) by echo_inside

Derek shows up everywhere Stiles goes when he's working on something for the pack. He's positive it's because Derek doesn't trust a human to get the job done. Derek is just watching Stiles back to make sure he's not putting himself into too much danger. Getting to watch Stiles is just a perk. Stiles finally confronts Derek about it and feelings get mentioned and there's a slight case of accidental knotting.

Things Accidental and (K)not by LadyDrace

Derek could have maybe warned him or something, but, all in all, Stiles is pretty damn happy.

the real meaning of derek's evolution by allhalethekings

"Derek, why can’t I move?” They both look between them to where Derek’s dick is still snug inside Stiles’s ass, with no intentions of wanting to slide out. Stiles tries to wriggle but stops at the pain that shoots up his spine. Derek’s still blinking at him, trying to figure out what’s happening to his dick and finally, finally, it clicks in Stiles’s head. He may or may not have spent hours reading werewolf erotica – which, who even knew that was an actual thing that happened – after he and Derek became a thing and he knew what this was. Stiles sighs, closing his eyes. “Derek, I’m really happy you managed to evolve but seriously, did your dick have to evolve too?” “Um.”

(K)not A Joke by milkysterek

If there’s one thing you don’t want to hear during sex, it’s ‘Oh no’.

Other fic recs: angsty fics | possessive Derek | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | smut | mafia | hurt/comfort | magical!Stiles | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | BAMF!Stiles | omegaverse | witch!Stiles | creature!Stiles | bad friend Scott | pack mom!Stiles | unrequited love | werewolf!Stiles | dark sterek | single parent!Stiles | feral Derek | arranged marriage | Stiles is underestimated | mpreg w/o abo

[prettyfilmz]

SWEET LIKE CANDY 4 • JEY USO

author's note: hello my loves! we have made it to part four🫨 I am not gonna lie to you...this ending is gonna hurt(i'm sorry!☹️) but I promise you it will be worth it for part five, happy reading and I hope you enjoy💗

synopsis: in which a celebration at the strip club leads to the beginning of a love affair between a wrestler and a dancer.

pairing: jey uso x black fem!oc (cherise aka candy)

tags: 18+(MDNI), slow burn, flirty banter, fluffy lovey dovey shit, mentions of death, mention of miscarriages, talks of past predatory behaviors and grooming, use of the n word, teasing, kissing, lots of touching, lotsssss of dirty talk, pussy eating, jey is a certified munch ™, daddy kink, morning sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it guys!), missionary, backshots, biting, fingering, spanking, multiple orgasms, daddy kink, pet names ( pretty girl, baby, mama, baby girl ), slow, sensual, and rough sex, squirting, creampie, aftercare, heavy angst at the end.

word count: 7k words (buckle up y'all🤫)

read part one here!

read part two here!

read part three here!

soundtrack playlist

Cherise stretched under the warm weight of her blanket, her body still heavy with sleep, her limbs tangled in soft cotton sheets that smelled faintly like vanilla and something masculine. Something like…

Jey.

She blinked against the morning sun filtering through her blinds,  wincing at the delicious soreness between her thighs. The memories of the night before rushed back all at once—his hands gripping her waist, his deep, filthy groans in her ear, the way he held her after, like he didn’t wanna let her go.

Her thighs pressed together instinctively, a pleasurable throb still lingering between them from the way he’d taken her apart.

Damn.

A small, satisfied smile started to creep onto her lips as she reached out across the bed…only to find his side empty.

Cold.

The smile faded instantly.

Of course.

Cherise exhaled, sinking back into the pillows as disappointment settled in her stomach. She should’ve known better, should’ve expected this. Jey had his life, his own world full of championship belts, WrestleMania main events, and people screaming his name in sold-out arenas. He wasn’t about to change that for some stripper he met in a club.

And yet…

She bit her lip, staring at the empty space beside her, willing herself to accept it for what it was.

A good night. A great night even. Nothing more.

She could handle that.

Probably.

With a soft sigh, she rolled onto her side, fingers mindlessly smoothing over the fabric of the sheets then suddenly, the faint sound of something clinking in the other room made her freeze.

Her brows furrowed.

“What the hell?” she muttered to herself. Before she could even sit up, the bedroom door swung open, and there he was.

Jey standing in her doorway holding a breakfast tray. Shirtless, grey sweatpants on, tattoos on full display, chains sparkling around his neck in the morning light like he belonged in a damn perfume ad.

He grinned when he saw her. That lazy, cocky grin that made her stomach flip in the most annoying way.

“Mornin’, mama,” he drawled, stepping inside like he hadn’t just nearly given her a damn heart attack. “You sleep good?”

Cherise blinked, her brain still trying to process what was happening.  “You’re… still here?” Jey smirked, setting the tray down on the nightstand before climbing back into bed, stretching out like he owned the place. “Damn, ma. That how you greet a man who made you breakfast?”

She shot him a look, but the warmth spreading through her chest was undeniable.  “…You made breakfast?”

“Hell yeah. I ain’t no scrub, baby.” He tapped the tray. “Eggs, turkey bacon, French toast, lil’ fruit on the side ‘cause I know you tryna be healthy and shit. I even found some syrup in your cabinet, so go ‘head and give me my props.”

Cherise huffed, shaking her head, but she couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her lips. “That’s… really sweet, actually.”

Jey’s grin widened, eye crinkling.  “I know.”

She rolled her eyes, sitting up, the sheet slipping slightly off her shoulders as she reached for the tray. Jey’s gaze dipped for half a second on her shirt covered torso before he licked his lips and focused back on her face.

“Mmm, baby, you gon’ have me forgettin’ about this food real quick…”

Cherise laughed, playfully shoving at his shoulder before picking up a fork.  “Eat some damn breakfast, Joshua.”

Jey smirked but grabbed his own fork, stealing a piece of bacon off her plate like a menace.

They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Jey occasionally stealing more of her food while she pretended not to care (but she cared, the audacity.).

Then, out of nowhere, he spoke.

“So, tell me somethin’ real, baby girl.”

Cherise glanced up mid-bite. “Like what?”

Jey tilted his head, watching her. “Like you. Who really is Cherise?”

She hesitated, stabbing at a piece of fruit with her fork. “You already know me.”

“Not really,” Jey murmured, chewing a piece of bacon. "You don’t talk much about you."

Cherise raised a brow. "I talk plenty."

"Nah," he shook his head. "You talk around shit. I be tellin’ you everything, but you always keepin’ me at arm’s length."

Cherise bit her lip.

She didn’t talk about herself much. Wasn’t used to people caring enough to ask. But something about how Jey gave his undivided attention to her, seeing her for who she is outside of the fantasy she created..he made it hard for her to hide.

Then, between bites, he asked “What made you wanna be a nurse, baby?”

Cherise hesitated. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to tell him.  It was just…no one had asked in a while. No one had cared to ask.

She exhaled. “My mom.”

Jey tilted his head.

“She died giving birth to me,” Cherise said quietly, rolling her fork between her fingers. “Preeclampsia. The doctors didn’t catch it early enough.”

Jey stilled, setting his plate down.  “Damn, baby…I’m so sorry.”

Cherise managed a small smile. “She knew it was a risk, though. She had a few miscarriages before me, but I guess she thought she’d be okay. She wasn’t. That’s…part of why I became a nurse. I always wanted to help women, especially Black women get better care. Too many babies goin’ home without their mama y’know?”

Jey was silent, watching her carefully, his fingers tracing idle circles into her thigh. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t rush her. Just let her talk.

“She wrote letters to me. One for each birthday up to twenty-one.  Always felt like she was still with me somehow.”

He nodded solemnly, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.  “That's beautiful. That’s why you got that soft heart under all that tough girl shit, huh?”

She snorted, nudging him. “Hush. Anyway, her favorite craving was cherries when she was pregnant. Ate ‘em like crazy. So she named me Cherise. It’s French for cherry.”

Jey smiled softly. “That’s cute. Fits you, too.”

“Yeah? How?”

He smirked playfully, fingertips drifting lower down her spine. “Sweet, but a lil tart when you wanna be.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes. “Boy, bye.”

He chuckled, then turned serious again.  “So your pops…?”

“Died when I graduated high school,” she murmured softly.  “Just been me since. Had a boyfriend years ago but I had to end it. Been navigatin’ the world alone for a minute.”

Jey shook his head. "Not no more, baby girl."

She looked at him then, eyes locking with his, her heart stupidly skipping a beat.

"Jey-“

"Nah." His voice was firm. "I mean that shit. You ain’t alone no more, mama. I gotchu, you hear me?"

Cherise pressed her lips together, trying not to let that get to her. But damn it…it did.

Jey then leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head.  “Aight, my turn. What you wanna know?”

Cherise tapped her chin, smirking. “If you weren’t wrestling, what would you be doing?”

Jey didn’t even hesitate.  “Easy, football coach.”

Her brows lifted.  “Oh?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Played linebacker in college. I was good, too.  Almost went pro, but…fucked up my shoulder.” He shrugged.  “Still love the game, though. Wouldn’t mind coachin’ one day when I retire.”

Cherise hummed, watching him. “I can see that. You got that whole ‘Coach Carter’ vibe going on.”

Jey smirked. “Oh, you peeped that, huh?”

She rolled her eyes. “Boy, shut up.”

Jey chuckled, then his gaze dipped back to her lips. “Mmm…you got work or school today?”

Cherise blinked. “I’m off, why?”

Before she could finish, Jey laid her down on her back, his body pressing her into the mattress, his lips trailing hot kisses down her throat.

“‘Cause I need you again, baby,” he murmured against her skin.

Her breath hitched.  “Boy—”

His mouth was on hers before she could even get another smart remark out, swallowing whatever little control she thought she had.  He kissed her deep, slow, but possessive, like he was trying to brand her with every slide of his tongue, every bite of her lips.

Cherise whimpered into his mouth, fingers threading into the short curls at the nape of his neck, pulling just enough to make him groan against her lips.

"Mm, you like when I kiss you like that, huh?" Jey smirked against her mouth, his voice low, taunting, his hands sliding up to cup her jaw, tilting her face just the way he wanted.

She didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

Her body did all the talking.

She was already soft and pliant beneath him, her thighs spreading just a little more on their own, her back arching when he slid his hands down her waist, gripping the soft curve of her hips.

Jey chuckled darkly.  "Mmm, I love that shit," he murmured, his lips trailing down her jaw, slow, teasing, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of her throat.  "You talk all that shit, but soon as I touch you, you foldin’ on me, huh?"

Cherise hated how much she liked the way he was playing with her.

"I ain’t foldin'," she muttered, but her voice was softer now, breathier, already betraying her.

Jey hummed, amused, his tongue flicking out against her pulse before biting down, hard enough to make her whimper.

"Nah?" His hand slipped between her thighs, fingers brushing over the damp heat of her panties, feeling the warmth that was already seeping through the fabric.  "So what’s this, then, huh? Why you already drippin’ on me, pretty girl?"

Cherise’s breath hitched.  "Jey-“

"Nah, tell me." His lips dragged down her collarbone, slow, teasing, his fingers just barely pressing against her through the thin lace. "You get wet for me that fast, baby?"

She bit her lip, refusing to give him that satisfaction.

Jey exhaled a quiet laugh, knowing she was fighting it, knowing she was stubborn.  But she was already squirming, her body betraying her, her hips subtly rolling into his teasing touch.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought," he murmured, his voice smug. "Go ‘head, open up for me, baby."

Cherise sighed through her nose, hating herself for listening to him.

But she let her thighs part a little more.

Jey smirked against her skin. “Good girl."

Before she could say something smart, he was gone.

Sliding down, settling between her legs, dragging her panties down slow.

"Mmm, damn, mama…"

Cherise swore her whole body clenched at the way his voice dropped, dark and heavy with heat, his gaze locked between her thighs like she was the best thing he’d ever seen.

Jey licked his lips, his hands gripping her thighs, spreading them even wider. "Shit, baby girl… look at you," he murmured, running a thumb over her slick folds. "All this for me?"

Cherise whimpered, her hips jerking at the first press of his fingers.

Jey groaned.  "Ohhh, baby…" He dragged a finger through the mess between her thighs, slow, teasing, coating his fingertips before pressing them against her clit. "Look how fuckin’ wet you are, damn."

Cherise shuddered..“Stop playin’ Jey c’mon…”

"Shhh, mama. I got you," he hushed her. "Lemme take care of you, baby girl."

And then he lowered his mouth on her. A sharp, shattering gasp ripped from Cherise’s throat the second his tongue flattened against her clit, licking slow, deliberate, his grip on her thighs tightening.

"Ohhh, fuck..”

Jey hummed into her, sending vibrations straight through her. “Mmm, yeah, there we go, baby." He wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking slow, deep, like he had all the time in the world. “Can’t get over how sweet this lil’ pussy is.”

Cherise couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe even.

Her thighs trembled against his broad shoulders as his tongue moved with expert precision flicking, swirling, sucking, teasing the swollen bundle of nerves until her stomach tightened and her breath hitched.

Jey groaned against her, devouring her like a man starved, his tongue dipping lower, fucking into her tight hole slowly before dragging back up to her clit.

"J-Jey—"

"Mmm, that’s right, baby, say my name." He gripped her thighs, pulling her even closer to his mouth. "Let me hear you, pretty girl."

Cherise whimpered, her head tipping back against the pillows. "Oh my God…”

"Mmm, yeah, you like that, huh?" He chuckled darkly, his fingers replacing his tongue, sliding into her pussy, curling just right against that spot that made her back arch.

"Ohhh, fuck—fuck—Jey, I’m gonna—“

"Go ‘head, mama," he groaned, his lips wrapping around her clit again, sucking just hard enough to push her over the edge. "Lemme feel you cum for me, baby."

Cherise snapped.

Her whole body tensed, her thighs shaking, her mouth parting in a breathless cry as waves of pleasure crashed through her.

Jey groaned, feeling the way she squeezed around his fingers, the way she soaked his hand.  "Ohhh, that’s it, baby girl, look at you… So fuckin’ pretty when you cum."

Cherise twitched, her entire body buzzing, her fingers tangled tight in his curls.

Jey sat back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning like the devil himself.

"Mmm, damn, mama…" He kissed her inner thigh, voice thick and lazy.  "You taste even better than I remember."

Cherise exhaled shakily, blinking up at the ceiling, barely processing what the fuck just happened.

Jey crawled back up her body, his hands pinned to her thighs, his hard, heavy length pressing against her, teasing, waiting.

"You ready for me, baby?"

Cherise nods eagerly.

Jey smirked, his lips brushing hers. ”Gimme words… you ready, mama?"

Cherise swallowed hard, her hands gripping his shoulders. "Mhm."

Jey exhaled a soft chuckle, sliding slowly inside her, stretching her open inch by inch. "Fuck, baby…" 

"Ohhh, fuck—" Cherise’s nails dug into Jey’s broad shoulders, her breath stuttering as he sank into her slow, inch by inch, stretching her out in a way that had her legs trembling around his waist.

Jey groaned, his forehead dropping to her shoulder, his fingers tightening around the plush curves of her hips. "Mmm, shit, mama… You feel that? You feel how deep I am?"

Cherise’s lips parted, but no sound came out, just a breathy whimper, her mind hazy from the pressure, the way he was spreading her open, filling her too good.

"Mmm, yeah…" Jey shuddered, his abs flexing as he rolled his hips forward, burying himself completely inside her. "Takin’ me so fuckin’ good, baby… all this dick, huh?"

And she sure did take him good. 

She felt every pulsing, throbbing inch of his cock stretching her walls, pressing into her so deep that she swore she could feel him in her damn stomach.

Cherise whimpered, her head tilting back against the pillows.  “J-Jey..”

"Shhh…" Jey pressed a soft, teasing kiss to the corner of her mouth, pulling back just slightly, only to thrust back in slow, deliberate. "I got you, baby girl. Just relax and lemme feel you.”

He rolled his hips slow, deep, grinding into her, making sure she felt every inch, making sure she took it.

Cherise’s breath hitched.  "Ohhh my God—"

Jey chuckled darkly, lifting his head to watch her.  "Mmm, you talkin’ to Him, but I’m the one blessin’ you right now, pretty girl."

Her cheeks burned, but she had no smart comeback—not when he was stroking into her like that.

"You know what’s crazy, mama?" he murmured, his voice smooth and taunting. "You act all tough, all independent… but soon as I get up in this lil’ pussy, you turn into my good lil’ girl, huh?"

Cherise whimpered, her breath coming out in soft, needy gasps.  “S-shut up..”

Jey smirked, pressing a wet, open-mouthed kiss to her throat. "Nah, baby, you love that shit, huh?You like when Daddy talk to you like this? Like when I tell you how good you takin’ me?” 

"J-Jey—"

"That’s right." He pressed a kiss to her jaw, his teeth grazing her skin.  "Sound so fuckin’ pretty when you say my name, baby girl."

Cherise couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do shit but take it as Jey moved above her, his body pressed so close, his weight anchoring her to the bed.

"Ohhh, fuck—" she gasped, gripping his biceps as he pulled back, leaving only the thick tip of him inside her, and snapped his hips hard, the sudden force making her moan loud and sharp.

"Mmm, yeah, there we go…" Jey grinned, his fingers gripping her waist, holding her still so she could feel every inch as he set a slow, deep rhythm. "You like that, baby? You like when I fuck you just like this?"

Cherise could barely form words just desperate, breathy whimpers, her body trembling with each slow, heavy thrust.

Jey groaned.  "Damn, baby girl, you fuckin’ squeezin’ me…" His jaw clenched, his pace faltering for half a second as he felt the way her walls clenched tight around him. "Shit, you tryna make me nut already?"

Cherise whimpered, her head spinning from the stretch, the pressure, the overwhelming pleasure building between her thighs.  "Jey, I—"

"Ohhh, baby…" He groaned, gripping her waist, his pace turning rougher, deeper, his hips snapping into hers, pushing her higher “and higher. You ‘bout to cum for me, huh?"

“Yesss Daddy, fuck—“

"Go ‘head, baby girl," he murmured, his thumb pressing right against her swollen clit, circling slow, knowing exactly what it would do to her.  "Lemme feel it.  Cum all on this dick, mama."

Cherise snapped.

Her whole body tensed, pleasure crashing through her like a wave, her back arching, her mouth parting in a wrecked, breathless cry.

"Ohhh, fuck—fuck—fuck!"

Jey groaned, feeling the way she clenched up around him, the way she soaked him, dripping down his thighs, leaving a messy, filthy wet spot beneath them.

"Mmm, that’s my girl," he murmured, gripping her chin, tilting her face up so she could see him.  "Look at me, baby."

Cherise barely had the strength to open her eyes, but when she did…The way he looked at her with such admiration, sweet brown eyes shining down on hers with lust , made her body shudder.

Jey smirked, his lips brushing hers, teasing, taunting.  "Yeah, that’s right, mama.  You feelin’ good now, huh?"

Cherise nodded, her body shaking beneath him.  "Mhm…"

"Mmm…" Jey smirked, loving the way she was already falling apart under him. "That’s cute, mama.  But we ain’t done yet."

Before she could even process what he meant, Jey sat back on his heels, grabbing her thighs and flipping her onto her stomach. Cherise gasped, her cheek pressing into the pillows as he hauled her hips up, angling her exactly how he wanted.

"Mmm, there we go…" Jey ran his hands over her ass, squeezing, gripping, spreading her open before lining himself back up. "You gon’ take this dick just like that, huh, baby?"

Cherise whimpered, pressing her face into the sheets.  “Yes Daddy..”

"Uh-uh." Jey smirked, gripping the back of her neck, forcing her to lift her head. "Keep that pretty lil’ face up for me, mama. Lemme see you."

He tapped the head of his cock against her sensitive folds gaining a few whines from her, then he pressed back inside her.

"Ohhh, fuck Daddy!”  Cherise’s entire body trembled as Jey filled her up again, the new angle making it deeper, making her feel every inch of him.

"Mmm, yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ about, baby…" Jey groaned, gripping her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he started to move—slow at first, long, deep strokes that made her thighs shake.

“P-please…“ She mewled softly, hips bucking from overstimulation at her previous orgasms.

"Uh-huh, I know, baby." His free hand smacked her ass, the sharp sting sending a jolt straight to her clit. "I know you sensitive now, huh?  This what you needed, baby girl?"

Cherise whimpered, her body arching back into him.  "Mmhmm…"

"Mmm, that’s right…" He grinned, rubbing over the spot he just slapped, his fingers trailing up her spine.  "Takin’ it so fuckin’ good, mama. This my pussy now, huh?"

Cherise’s breath hitched.

And then he slapped her ass again.

"Answer me, baby."

"Y-yeah fuck! Yes, Jey it’s yours!”

“Damn right."

Jey’s movements turned rougher, his hips snapping against hers, deep and unrelenting, his thick cock dragging against her most sensitive spots, making her whimper with every stroke.

"Mmm, I love this shit, baby girl…" His voice was low, dark, husky.  "Love watchin’ you take this dick. Love hearin’ you sing for me, mama."

"Ohhh fuck,” Cherise gasped, her fingers gripping the sheets as heat coiled tight in her stomach.  "J-Jey, I’m gonna—“

"Mmm, I know, baby girl." He snapped his hips harder, his grip tightening on her waist. "Gon’ give me another one, huh? Gon’ make another mess for me, honey?”

Cherise cried out, her entire body clenching up as the pleasure exploded inside her, her thighs shaking as she came hard, gushing around him.

Jey groaned, feeling the way she soaked his dick, the way she clamped around him.  "Ohhh, fuck, baby…"

His hips stuttered, his rhythm turning erratic as his own release slammed into him.  "Shit baby, you gon’ take this nut, baby, fuck—"

With one final, deep thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, groaning loud as he filled her up, his arms wrapped around her waist, his forehead dropping to her shoulder.

"Mmm, fuck, baby girl…"

Cherise’s body trembled, her breath shaky, her limbs weak.

Jey chuckled softly, pressing lazy kisses to her shoulder.  "Yeah…it’s a good morning now huh, mama?”

Cherise exhaled, her lips curving into a tired smirk.  "Guess so."

♡

Jey should’ve been gone thirty minutes ago.

His phone had vibrated on the nightstand twice, his lock screen lighting up with a text from Jimmy talking about, “Uce, where the fuck you at? You got training.”

But Jey?

Jey was still cozied up in Cherise’s bed.

Still tangled in her sheets, one arm lazily draped around her waist, his face buried in the crook of her neck like he wasn’t supposed to be halfway across town by now.

Cherise sighed, running her fingers through his curls.  "Joshua…"

Jey hummed, lips pressing a lazy kiss to her shoulder.  "Mmm?"

"Ain’t you late?" she teased, her voice still groggy from earlier events, still soft from everything they’d just done.

Jey smirked against her skin, nuzzling closer, pulling her body back against his chest.  "I’on care."

Cherise rolled her eyes.  “Hunter gon’ care when you walk in there late as hell, smellin’ like me."

Jey chuckled, his lips trailing up her neck, slow, teasing.  "And what if I like smellin’ like you, baby?"

Cherise’s stomach flipped.

She bit back a smile, shaking her head. “Boy, get up and shower.”

"Mm-mm." Jey tightened his grip. "I think I like it right here, mama."

Cherise sighed, but she didn’t move, didn’t try to push him off.

Because if she was being honest?

She liked it too.

Liked how warm he was. How comfortable this felt.

Jey sighed against her skin, pressing one last kiss to her shoulder before finally rolling onto his back, stretching with a deep groan.  "Damn, baby girl… you really tryna kick me out?"

"I ain’t kickin’ you out." Cherise smirked, propping herself up on one elbow.  "I’m just reminding you that you a whole WWE superstar and you got shit to do."

Jey grinned, reaching over to smack her ass, his fingers squeezing deep into the plush curve of her thigh. "Mmm, you right… but damn, you really got me tryna call out today."

Cherise laughed, pushing at his chest. "Go to work, Jey."

"Aight, aight…" He finally sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, stretching again before standing.

Cherise immediately missed the warmth of him.

She watched as he padded toward the bathroom, completely naked, stretching his muscles with a lazy yawn.

"Damn," she muttered under her breath. "Thick ass…"

Jey heard that.

He smirked over his shoulder, flexing just a little as he disappeared into the bathroom. "I know you watchin’, mama."

Cherise huffed, rolling her eyes.  "Boy, shut up."

♡

Jey stood at the front door, finally dressed, his duffle bag tucked under one arm. Cherise leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, trying not to look like she was already missing him.

Jey tilted his head, his eyes roaming over her, lazy, warm, teasing.  "Damn, baby, why you lookin’ at me like you mad?"

Cherise rolled her eyes.  "I’m not mad."

Jey smirked, stepping closer, his fingers tilting her chin up. "Mmm, you mad I gotta leave, huh?"

"Boy, please."

"Awww, look at you, baby girl…" He leaned down, nuzzling her cheek.  "You catchin’ feelings for me?"

Cherise pushed at his chest, laughing.  "Joshua, if you don’t get the fuck out my apartment…”

Jey chuckled, but his hands didn’t leave her hips. “Say you gon’ miss me, baby girl."

Cherise lifted a brow. "You that desperate for validation?"

Jey grinned, making her heart skip a beat. "Ain’t nothin’ desperate ‘bout it, mama.  I just like hearin’ you say it."

Cherise sighed dramatically, shaking her head.  "Fine." She grabbed his keys and tossed them for him to catch  "I’m gon’ miss you."

Jey caught the key with one hand, placing them in his pocket.  "Damn, that was real unenthusiastic, baby."

Cherise smirked. "Want me to write it in a love letter?"

"Nah, just say it nice for me, baby girl." Jey stepped closer, his lips brushing her jaw, his voice dropping to that slow, deep rasp.  "Say it real sweet, mama."

Cherise shivered, biting her lip.

Jey smirked, sensing her resolve melting.

"Mmm, yeah, there it go." He chuckled, low, smug. "You gon’ miss me, huh?"

Cherise sighed, knowing she lost this round. "Yeah, Jey. I’m gon’ miss you."

Jey grinned, pressing his lips to her forehead.  "That’s what I like to hear, baby girl."

She rolled her eyes, but her stomach flipped.

Jey stepped back, adjusting his duffle bag, glancing down at her one last time.  "You be good, aight?"

Cherise smirked.  "I ain’t makin’ no promises."

Jey exhaled a soft chuckle, shaking his head.  "That’s my girl."

And then he finally stepped out the door.

Cherise watched him go, arms still crossed, fighting the little smile pulling at her lips.

Then she glanced at the couch.

Where his hoodie wasn’t.

She blinked.

…Did she just—

Her stomach flipped.

She turned quickly, grabbing the hoodie from where she definitely hid it behind her back, clutching the thick, warm fabric to her chest.

Her lips twitched.

"Oh well."

Jey could worry about it later.

Cherise sighed as she finally shut the door, pressing her back against it.

Her body still buzzed from Jey’s touch, from the way he had looked at her before he left, from the way he kissed her forehead like she was his—like he would be back.

She exhaled, shaking her head as she pushed off the door, running a hand through her braids.

She needed to clean up.  Maybe take another shower. Definitely eat again after the way Jey had worked her out—

Her eyes landed on the coffee table.

And she stopped.

Her books.

Her notes.

Her pens.

All of it was… organized.

Neatly stacked, everything in place, her color-coded highlighters lined up in a perfect little row.

Her heart skipped.

Because she knew she hadn’t done that.

Cherise slowly stepped toward the table, fingertips grazing the newly arranged pages.

Jey had done this.

Somewhere between ruining her and making her breakfast, he had organized her damn study materials.

She swallowed, blinking down at the neatly stacked notebooks.

She didn’t know why that made her chest feel so… warm.

So full.

It was just a small thing.

But it wasn’t.

Because nobody ever took care of her like that.

Nobody ever stuck around long enough to.

Cherise exhaled, dropping onto the couch, her legs curled beneath her as she finally let herself smile.

And then she reached for her phone.

She had one person she needed to call.

She curled up on the couch, still wrapped in Jey’s hoodie, pulled the thick fabric over her bare thighs, and tapped Trinity’s contact.

The phone barely rang twice before Trin picked up.

“Uh-uh, girl don’t even start."

Cherise blinked, her lips parting.  "Huh?"

"I know that ‘I just got my shit rocked’ voice when I hear it." Trinity’s tone was smug as hell.  "And you sound real damn relaxed, sis. What, Jey put you to sleep?"

Cherise groaned, pressing the phone to her forehead.  "Why do you know my life?"

"‘Cause I know you," Trinity cackled. "Now spill, Cher. Did he put it down or did he put it down?"

Cherise sighed dramatically, a slow, lazy grin creeping across her face.  "Girl."

"Oh, it was like that?!" Trinity gasped, her voice full of amusement.

"Like that," Cherise confirmed, shaking her head.  "I can still feel him, Trin."

“Well then-“ Trinity cackled. "Not my girl walkin’ funny. Jey did not lay you out like that!"

"He did, though!" Cherise buried her face in Jey’s hoodie, muffling a groan. "And then this man had the audacity to cook me breakfast, like he wasn’t just rearranging my spine six hours ago."

"Not the full boyfriend experience!" Trinity squealed, the sound of something clattering in the background.  "Damn! I knew he was feelin’ you, but that’s some real husband behavior."

Cherise bit her lip, stomach flipping.  "You think so?"

"Girl, yes!" Trinity scoffed.  "You think Jey cookin’ breakfast for everybody he smashin’? Nah, sis. You different."

Cherise felt warmth bloom in her chest, but she quickly shook it off, rolling her eyes. "You say that, but this man still play too much."

"Oh, what he do now?"

"Girl, tell me why I was dead ass thinking he dipped before I woke up?" Cherise huffed.  "I reached over, and his side of the bed was empty, and I was like, ‘Welp, I knew what it was.’ But then he walked in with a whole ass breakfast tray like some kinda domesticated Samoan husband."

"Bitch, I know you was ready to be sick!" Trinity cackled.

"I was," Cherise admitted, groaning.  "Like, I was really tryna play it cool in my head, but deep down I was hurt, Trin. Thought he hit me with the ‘Aight, I’mma head out’ after all that."

"See, that’s how I know you like him!"

"I didn’t say all that—"

"Girl, shut up!  You don’t gotta say it!  It’s in your voice!  The way you was feelin’ when you thought he left?  The way you just admitted you was gonna accept it, but deep down you didn’t want to?"

Cherise was quiet.

"Yeah. That’s what I thought," Trinity said smugly.

Cherise groaned again, tugging the hoodie tighter around her.  "I hate when you’re right."

"Mmm-hmm. And I be right a lot."

"Don’t hype yourself up, damn."

Trinity laughed. "Nah, but for real, Cher… You think this could be somethin’?"

Cherise chewed her bottom lip, staring at the ceiling. "I don’t even know, Trin."

"Why not?"

"‘Cause what if I get caught up in it?" Cherise exhaled, her voice quieter now.  "What if I start really feelin’ him, and then he just… disappears?"

"Aht aht, see—" Trinity clicked her tongue. "You do that every time, Cherise.  You don’t even let yourself have shit ‘cause you always think it’s gon’ get taken away."

"And has it not?" Cherise challenged, her voice sharper than she intended.  "Trin, every time I start trusting somebody, every time I let myself think maybe… they prove me right.  People leave."

A beat of silence.

Then, Trinity sighed.  "I get it, Cher. I really do. But girl… what if he don’t?"

Cherise’s chest tightened.

She wanted to believe that.

She wanted to believe Jey was different.

But did she really want to risk being wrong?

"I dunno, Trin," she murmured.  "I don’t wanna overthink it."

"Then don’t," Trinity said simply.  "Just feel it. Enjoy it. And if it turns into somethin’ real, then it was meant to."

Cherise sighed, running a hand down her face.  "I hate that you make sense."

"I know," Trinity teased.  "Now, tell me somethin’—"

"Hmm?"

"You kept his hoodie, or nah?"

Cherise smirked, gripping the thick fabric in her lap. "Oh, this mine now.  He can worry about it later."

"Mmm-hmm," Trinity chuckled.  "That’s what I thought."

They both laughed, the tension slipping away, the easy comfort of best friends filling the silence.

But then—

Knock, knock, knock.

Cherise turned toward the door, her brows furrowing.

"Trin, lemme call you back I think my scrubs got delivered.”

“Okay girl, talk to you later.”

She went to open her door and was met with what could be described as a splash of ice cold water.

Cherise felt the blood drain from her face.

Her stomach twisted, something filled with disgust creeping up her spine as she stared at the man standing in her doorway.

Her ex.

Tremaine.

The same man who once whispered sweet nothings in her ear, who told her he had her back, that he’d take care of her—until she realized she was nothing more than a profit to him.

The same man who pushed her into a world she never wanted to be a part of.

The same man who stole everything from her.

And now he had the audacity to show up here, smirking like he belonged.

"Damn," Tremaine drawled, his dark eyes sweeping over her lazily.  "You ain't even gon' say hi?"

Cherise’s grip on the doorknob tightened.  "What the fuck are you doing here, Tremaine?”

His smirk widened, like he was amused by her hostility.  "Damn, that’s how you greet your man? What happened to all that sweetness, Candy?"

Cherise flinched.

That name.

She hated it. Hated how he said it, hated how he was the reason it existed in the first place.

She never wanted to be Candy.

Not at first.

Not when she was young, broke, struggling, with no parents doing whatever she had to do to make ends meet. It was his idea. Tremaine was the one who planted the seed in her head, who fed her lines about how stripping was empowerment, how she’d be making her own money, how she could do it her way.

But it was never really her way.

Not when he controlled her schedule.

Not when he took his cut of her money like she owed him.

Not when he ambushed her at his boy’s bachelor party, threw her on stage like she was some kinda party trick.

That night? That was the night something inside her snapped. The way they all watched her, laughing, cheering, grabbing. The way Tremaine sat back and let it happen, enjoyed it. The way she realized..he never cared about her at all. And him running off with all of the money she made, that covered all of her semesters of school, truly shown the extent of how predatory he was towards her. 

"Don’t call me that," she spat, her jaw clenching. "You lost that privilege a long time ago."

Tremaine chuckled, leaning against the doorframe like he had all the time in the world. "Lost it?  Shit, girl, I gave you that name. And from what I heard, you still usin’ it."

Cherise swallowed hard, her nails digging into her palms.

Fuck him.

"You still ain’t answer me," she said coldly. "What the fuck are you doing at my door?"

Tremaine tilted his head, studying her. "Just checkin’ in on you, baby."

She laughed sharp, humorless.  "Checkin’ in? Like you give a fuck?"

Tremaine clicked his tongue.  "Damn. You really that bitter over old shit?"

That hit something in her, white-hot anger bubbling up in her chest.

"Old shit?" she repeated, her voice deadly quiet. "Oh, you mean when you—"

She caught herself, stopped before she could say it.

She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of dragging her into old wounds.

But Tremaine saw it—the flicker of rage behind her eyes. And he grinned like he won something.

"Relax, ma," he said smoothly. "Ain’t gotta act so cold.  I just wanted to see how you was holdin’ up. Heard you been busy… entertainin’."

Cherise’s stomach twisted.

There it was.

This wasn’t some friendly check-in.  He came here because he knew.

Somebody had been watching.

Somebody had told him about her and Jey.

And now he was here to fuck with her.

"What do you want, Tremaine?" she asked, her voice edged with exhaustion.

He smirked.  "Ain’t about what I want, shorty.  I just think you need to be careful. Dudes like that? Wrestlers?" He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "They ain’t built for you. He gon’ chew you up and spit you out just like all the other ones."

Cherise’s heart clenched, but she didn’t let it show. "You don’t know shit about him."

At all. 

The way he looked at her. The way he touched her. The way he cleaned her damn table like he was already invested in her success. The way he listened to her. The way he called her by her name, not the one some man had chosen for her.

He had made her a choice, not a convenience.

"Don’t I?" Tremaine raised a brow. "I know he got you wide open already. Letting him take you out the club. Textin’ you. Stayin’ the night."

Cherise’s breath caught.

"Yeah," Tremaine murmured, his smirk widening.  "I know."

Her jaw tensed. "You spying on me now?"

"Nah." He shrugged.  "But I know people who know people. And those people said you was out here actin’ all cozy with this nigga like you forgot how the game work."

Cherise hated how fast her heart was beating.

Hated how much the words got to her.

"And what game is that?" she snapped.

"Alright, bet." He stepped closer.  "Let me ask you somethin’ how many times he tell you he ain’t like the other dudes?”

Cherise stiffened.

"Mmm. Thought so." He clicked his tongue.  "Baby, I was there when you used to talk big shit about dudes like him. You hated clients who tried to act like they was better than the other ones. And now?" He gestured to her. "Look at you."

Her breath was slow.  Controlled.

"I was never your client," she said through gritted teeth.

"Yeah?" His brows lifted. "And how you know that? You think he see you different? Think he don’t got boys tellin’ him about you?  Think he ain’t hearin’ about how you move in that club?"

A sharp, cold weight settled in her stomach.

Her silence must’ve pleased him, because he stepped even closer, his voice dropping lower.

Cherise hated that the words slid right into the cracks of her deepest insecurities.

"He got you second-guessin’ me right now, huh?" His tone was mocking.  "But tell me this, Cher… when’s the last time you had a client leave you a lil’ tip, then double back three months later pretendin’ they missed you?"

Her throat felt tight.

"When’s the last time you let one of ‘em up in your bed?"

Her fingers trembled.

"You think he came back for you?" He let out a cruel laugh. "Baby, he came back ‘cause he remembered how you moved on his lap that night.  ‘Cause he knew what this pussy was sittin’ like."

Tremaine saw the apprehension in her face she tried to hard to hide. Knew exactly what he was doing.

The same thoughts she had tried to push away when she woke up thinking Jey had left. The same doubts that whispered to her every time she got too comfortable.

"I ain’t sayin’ this to be a dick," he continued, stepping just a little closer.  "I’m just keepin’ it real with you, ma. You think he gon’ take you serious?  You a stripper. You really think that man want you in the light? You think you gon’ be wifed up? Goin’ to wrestling events, standin’ next to his family? You think you fit in that world?In his world?"

Cherise’s nails dug into her palms so hard they could bleed.

And then—

She smiled.

Slow.

Cold.

Dangerous.

"You still mad you can’t eat off me no more, huh?"

Tremaine’s expression faltered, just a little. "What?"

"That’s what this is about, right?" Cherise took a slow step forward.  "You showed up at my door ‘cause you saw me wit’ somebody who actually sees me. ‘Cause you realized you fumbled a bitch who don’t need you."

Tremaine’s jaw ticked.  "Ain’t nobody—"

"Oh, but you did," she murmured, tilting her head. "Let’s not act brand new, Tremaine. You ain’t come here ‘cause you care.  You came here ‘cause you still see me as yours. As something you owned."

Her voice sharpened.

"You used me."

Tremaine’s jaw tightened.  "Ain’t nobody use you—"

"You took everything from me." Cherise’s voice was ice now.  "You put me in that club. You made me depend on it.  You took cuts from my money like you was my fuckin’ pimp. And then?"

Her voice trembled, but she didn’t let it break.

"Then you took everything I saved. Everything I worked for. You let your boys humiliate me, made me dance at that fuckin’ party, then ran out with all my money."

Tremaine didn’t say anything.

"You left me with nothing," she whispered, her fists clenched.  "And now you at my door, tryna tell me about a man who’s done more for me in one night than you ever did in our whole relationship?"

Tremaine scoffed, looking away, jaw tight. "Man, fuck outta here wit’ that sob story."

"Yeah?" Cherise smirked, crossing her arms. "Then why you so pressed, Tremaine?”

His eyes flickered.

She had him.

Finally, he exhaled, rolling his tongue over his teeth.  "Aight, Cher.  I see you. You feelin’ yourself now, huh?"

"I been feelin’ myself, motherfucker,” she shot back. "You just late to the party."

A long, tense silence stretched between them.

Then Tremaine took a step back, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Aight." He smirked. "When he leave? Don���t say I ain’t warn you."

And then he turned, walking down the hall, disappearing around the corner.

Cherise slammed the door shut.

Her hands shook.

Her breath came out in quick, uneven bursts.

And when she turned back toward the apartment, the quiet wrapped around her like a noose.

And the worst part?

Tremaine’s words were still there.

Still echoing.

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[sugarpasteltmnt]

wow first of all THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone who voted for my silly little story in the AU comp!! seriously you all are so wonderful and sweet and i'm just so happy to be in the comp period 😭🩵

as a big thanks i wanted to tell ya'll i'm working on the next chapter of 'Purgatory Paradise' ( • ̀ω•́ )✧ i'll try my best to have it out within the next week!! (`･ω･´)ゞ here's a sneak peak:

in the meantime, please enjoy this list of some of the references and easter eggs i had put in 'The Neon Void' while writing it! (hehe how many did YOU spot while reading?)

[warning; spoilers ahoy! avoid reading if you haven't finish TNV yet!]

here's a rough list of some of the references I snuck in or jokes i was quite proud of when writing 'The Neon Void' haha!

Houdini 

● silly reference to ‘ooze’ hehe (not so much of an easter egg but more of a bad joke lol)  ● “…What in sweet Marie Curie’s name was that about?” – Marie Curie was a physicist who studied radioactivity, and her research ultimately was used in the creation of the atomic bomb, which uses nuclear fission (aka, atoms splitting apart) (lol get foreshadowed, nerds.) 

The Shrine 

● The Jupiter Jim issue number 84 is a reference to 1984, the year the TMNT comics first came out. 

Mosaic 

● Leo’s hideout is inspired by an episode in the 2003 TMNT, where the fam hides in a water tower when the lair is discovered by the Foot Clan. (And I believe a water tower comes into play in other TMNT iterations, but I wasn’t 1000% sure) 

Marigolds 

● The area where Mikey fights Leo and cuts off his arm is heavily inspired by some of the 2003 sewer layout scenes, with the giant atriums and criss-crossing skywalks over giant areas of water. I loved those designs and wanted to incorporate that. 

Ground Control 

● Another silly joke reference of ‘shellphones’ used in the 2012 series   ● “I doubt it was unimportant considering you made enough to feed the entire New York Dave’s team,” Donnie pressed. He picked up a butterfly, inspecting it, but Mikey knew that he was trying to get to the root of the cause, “What did he say?” – Homage to early concept art of Donnie, where he has a butterfly on his knuckle (look at this cutie)

(BTW i for the life of me CANNOT find the original tweet where this photo was so if you have it let me know!) 

Mad Dog: Haunted 

● Call-back to the Krang carcass you see for 0.2 seconds in the season finale inside of the Crying Titan, which I thought was a really neat detail. 

Strings

● The book excerpt Donnie reads is written by Professor Honeycutt, a referencing the 2003 Professor Honeycut who studied teleportation and invented the teleportal  ● ‘October 28, 20:20’ written on the sticky note Donnie looks at is a reference to the release date of ‘The Last Ronin’ (10/28/2020) ● ‘By Carl Sagan–! It worked! We’ve established contact–!’ – Carl Sagan lead the effort in the creation of the Golden Record aboard the Voyager spacecraft, whos purpose was to send a message to extraterrestrials who might find the spacecraft as it traveled through vast spans of space. Since Donnie was trying to reach Karai and the ancestors from what felt like an impossible distance, it felt fitting. 

Bed and Breakfast 

● ‘He groaned. His brain was pulsing painfully behind his eyes. His whole body was achy. Great Pythagoras, what happened?’ – Pythagoras was a Greek philosopher referred to as the ‘lover of wisdom’ and made numerous mathematical and scientific discoveries, and I felt like Donnie would just generally be a fanboy of him lol.  ● ‘Sweet Friedrich Sertürner was that blood–?!’ – while working on this chapter, i asked my best friend and beta reader for some inventors/scientist names to make into funny Donnie Swears. She suggested Friedrich Sertürner because he invented morphine which is used to treat pain… and she said 'would be funny...considering how much of it they were gonna need by the time things were said and done with the Key/Leo's infection.' (SHE WAS SO REAL FOR THAT LOL)   ● The ‘Void ducking in and out of doorways just to come out of a totally different door’ chase was 100000% a Scooby-doo reference, lol. It was one of my fav cartoons growing up and that gag felt very on-brand for Leo’s silly ‘Void’ persona and i’m a little proud of it hahaha 

The Deal 

“Neon Void was literally blasted into the air. All the while laughing merrily as he soared. He went crashing into a poor, unkept, unsuspecting billboard for the Super Slam Hockey Game that already happened over ten years ago.” – This is SO obscure but this is a reference to one of my favorite 2003 TMNT episodes, ‘The Golden Puck’. The episode is so peak 2000’s cartoon to me with its silly premise and I just loved it LOL. (Southern millionaire who hires sci-fi-technology cowboy bounty hunters to steal a sports trophy in the middle of New York city? Peak old cartoon synopsis.) 

Rap Battle 

● The first few lines of Leo’s freestyle rap are the 2012 TMNT opening theme lyrics 

Boop!

● Leo runs past a ‘Space Heroes' game cabinet– Space Heroes is a reference to the 2012 TMNT, which was the show that Leonardo was obsessed with 

Tag Part I: Sonic 

● Leo bounces off the back of the Sonic the Hedgehog balloon in the parade in reference to the fact that they share the same voice actor LOL Extra fun fact this entire fic was set in autumn/fall JUST to write this NICHE SCENE

I’m sure I missed a few I couldn't remember off the top of my head, but I had a lot of fun putting these little references and easter eggs in the story 🩵 TMNT itself always makes call-backs and references to it's other iterations, and i love love love that and wanted to try myself!

[softpascalito]

Dulcissima I Marcus Acacius x Vestal!Reader I Chapter XV - Beneventum

Summary: Set before and during Gladiator II. General Acacius finds himself entranced by a highly valued priestess of Rome – A Vestal Virgin. But you both have taken vows that make sure your paths may never cross. Until they do.

Aka a fix-it fanfic where Acacius survives the Colosseum.

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Vestal Virgin Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 45k+ Tags: Secret Relationship, Vestal Virgins, Religious Guilt, Gladiator fights, Gladiator II compliant (more or less), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Ancient Rome, Age Difference, Slow Burn (ish), Injury, Kissing, Historical Inaccuracy, (Attempted) Sexual Harassment, Smut, First Time, Oral Sex (f receiving), Vaginal Sex, Unprotected Sex, Slight Breeding Kink, Semi-Public Sex, More tags to be added

AO3 // Series Masterlist // Masterlist // Fic Playlist // Ko-Fi

notes: look who it is! hiii! sorry this chapter is a tad late, im afraid the rise of f*cism in my country and my current ear infection are to blame. oh, if i only had a strong roman general with big big forearms to save me … ♡

centurion - high-ranking army official

Chapter XV - Beneventum

You don’t plan to do it. You really don’t.

But when you have dressed and adjusted your veil in front of the small mirror that sits in the corner of the room and step down into the atrium, Acacius is nowhere to be seen. Instead, a servant greets you at the bottom of the stairs. “My lady Vestal, I have prepared a light meal for you if you would like some food?”

“Is there drink too?” You enquire gently and at the woman's nod, you follow her back to the dining room you remember from last night. “Has the General already taken his food?”

She generously pours you a cup of what looks like some kind of juice and shakes her head, smiling like the mere idea is a silly one to entertain. “Oh no, the General was up before dawn and rode off to see his soldiers. He should be down by the fields. Would you like me to have a message sent to him? It is not very far.”

“No,” you respond a bit too quickly. You hope to cover the slight blush that creeps onto your cheeks with your cup by bringing it to your mouth and drinking. The juice tastes of oranges along with other fruits and you nod in approval, giving the woman a faint smile before continuing. “I know the General is a very busy man. I was merely wondering whether or not to save him any of this.”

The woman seems to swallow the ruse because she laughs at that, once again shaking her head. “Oh no, my dear, this is all for you. But I promise you, when he returns, I will offer him the same and more. Neither of you shall go hungry in our house.”

“You are very kind.” You smile. Your appetite and your mood have exponentially increased at the unexpected news of Acacius’s absence. You busy yourself with your food, tasting a bit of everything that is offered up in front of you. But your mind is already out the front door. Because you really didn't plan to do it. But if Acacius is providing you with a perfect opportunity to slip through the bars of your cage, you will not be so stupid as to ask for his permission.

Stomach filled with bread and drink, you rush back upstairs to gather your coins and a coat. The sun makes the weather seem slightly less bleak, but the cold is still all around you and you aren’t sure how long you will be. You make it out of the villa and through the gardens without an issue. It is only when you reach the entrance gate that separates the grounds from the town that you run into a problem. A problem in the form of two guards that turn toward you as you step outside, their eyes flying over your form.

“My lady, may we help you?” The one to your right asks politely and you do your best to not let your anxiety show, even as your heart begins to beat faster and you absent-mindedly smooth down invisible wrinkles in your stola.

“I wish to head into town,” you say as if it is the most normal request in the world and step forward just to have the man on the left do the same, putting himself right into your path. But you can see the insecurity in his step, the wish to perform well in front of such high guests. And no one wishes to upset a priestess.

“There is not much to see in this town. I am sure Sir Orbilius would prefer to have you stay within the grounds.” He must be able to see that you are not in agreement because he adds; “A walk around the gardens this time of the day is quite beautiful.”

You stay quiet for a few moments, pondering your options. It will surely be a few hours until Acacius returns, possibly even nightfall. If you manage to be back by then, you doubt the soldiers would find it worthy to report of you ever leaving. Your eyes fly past the man in front of you, onto the streets behind him and the roofs further down the hill. And suddenly, an idea strikes you.

“I am sure the gardens are lovely. However, they will not serve for my duty. It is the Temple I aspire to visit.” You nod gracefully, gesturing toward the tallest of the buildings behind the soldier. He sends the other man a quick glance, swallowing nervously.

“Maybe you should wait for the General to return then, I am certain he would appreciate…”

You don’t even let him finish his attempt at keeping you inside the cage, your voice soft as satin as you step forward. “I can tell you are a loyal soldier. I thank you for keeping the people of Beneventum and the Roman lands safe. But you should learn to trust in the gods as I do.”

It is something no Roman citizen could argue with. And indeed, you can watch as the man sheds his resistance like a coat that has gotten too heavy and steps to the side, bowing his head as he lets you pass. “Of course, my lady. Forgive me my foolishness.”

You finally pass the gate but you don't respond to his request. Because it has just occured to you that you are exactly like Acacius, exactly like the man you are trying so hard to despise. That you are using your precious gods the way he did when he asked for your company for this trip.

You’re more than content to quickly put distance between yourself and the villa, like its mere presence makes you foul. A golden cage with lavish food to eat and gardens to roam and nothing, not a single truth around. It is the one lesson you have understood early in your life through your position in the Empire. A cage, no matter how comfortable and no matter how large, is still not freedom. No matter how good an imitation it is of the very thing it forbids.

For a few moments, you consider actually stopping by the temple and allowing yourself a moment of calm. You could say a few prayers, some of them the same ones you whisper to Vesta every night, of forgiveness and obedience and admitting your shortcomings in the recent months. But the sun is still out and with every step further into the heart of Beneventum, you feel lighter. Men, women and children fill the streets, running their errands or heading from one place to another, vendors push their carts and loudly praising their fresh ingredients to whoever will listen. There is no guard with you, neither Acacius nor any other man, despite being so far from Rome. And despite a sliver of fear that remains at that thought, you realize it feels good.

And then you suddenly hear them. Hooves that click on the stone pavement in a rhythm so strict it can only mean one thing: Soldiers.

You rush to the side, scrambling to hide behind one of the wooden carts loaden with vegetables and fruits, pretending to inspect some apples in detail. Through the red and green stacks, you watch anxiously as several soldiers ride past and you let out a small breath of relief when you can't spot Acacius among them. However, you do recognize one of the centurions that usually rides next to the General and you involuntarily hold your breath, wondering whether or not you should head back before any of them can report of your absence.

“Oh, yes, yes, we just had these delivered yesterday, still as fresh as they are in the fall–” The vendor behind whose cart you’re currently hiding has turned toward you and is animatedly gesturing toward the apples you are standing in front of. When he comes face to face with you, you can see the same reaction that Lady Orbilius had at your arrival. “Oh my, it is you! They spoke of a Vestal coming to our town but I did not believe it–” He stares at you for a few moments, like you are some precious piece of gold behind glass, made purely to be admired. Then, before you can think of a proper response, he reaches for a slightly worn bag and picks several of the fruits to place inside, paying extra attention to the apples. “Here, take this for your travels, please.”

You nod, glancing over your shoulder to check whether or not the soldiers are still there but they are nowhere to be seen. Slowly, you shake off the brief faint you felt. “Let me give you some gold at the very least.”

The man insists that the food is a present time and time again until you decide that it is a lost cause to keep arguing and after once again expressing your gratitude, you move on, secretly wondering if you may be able to slip a golden coin or two into his cart on your way back.

A group of children giggle as they follow you down the busy street, occasionally hiding behind tables or columns when you turn around. It warms your heart to see them playing out in the open, not hidden away in expensive villas or worse–send to work on the fields when their small bodies will barely allow them to carry a bag of flour.

Both the temple and the soldiers are forgotten when you reach the line of shops you passed in your carriage the day before; one display more beautiful than the other.

After days of staring out at a grey landscape, at trees with no leaves and fields with nothing to bloom on them, seeing fabrics in all colors you could imagine, some impossibly mixed, feels like spring has come early. You let your hands run over the linen and peek into several of the small stores, occasionally stopping to chat with the owners or folks who notice your veil and ask for a moment of your time. Some pose questions about the gods, others ask for your blessing or prayer, one man even falls to his knees and begins to weep.

You’ve never considered how distance would make people perceive you so differently, how to them you and your veil belong to a world they usually just hear about, to Rome with all its imposing temples and politics and the colosseum.

You find your way to a corner shop that carries beautifully woven scarves and jewelry of all kinds, a slight mist hanging in the air that reminds you of the smell of stone pines in the summer. The way the clothes are arranged feels a bit like Aquila’s shop back home and you feel a sense of comfort settling over you at the thought that some things are the same, no matter where in the Empire you are.

A woman, no older than thirty, beckons you inside, treading lightly beside you as you let your eyes wander over the displays. “These are beautiful,” you hum quietly when your eyes land on a set of earrings and a matching bracelet, both made from a light gold with green stones worked into them.

“You have a good eye,” the woman compliments, reaching for the gold bracelet and holding it up to the light for you. Her gaze briefly passes over your veil and a genuine smile decorates her face. “Though I am sure these stones are nothing compared to the kind you can buy in Rome.”

“No,” you mutter. “These are more beautiful than those in Rome. They’re …” You struggle to find the right word. “More natural. The fine lines in this one– I have not seen anything like this before. Like it was brought straight from the mines.”

A small laugh escapes the woman and she nods again. “I told you you have a good eye. These were made by the blacksmith in town. He purchases stones and metals from the merchants when they pass through town and creates fine jewelry for us to sell. Nowhere else would he have so many options.” A small glint sneaks into her eyes. “Many high ranking men pass through Beneventum and stay for a night or two. It is usually about a week before their return to Rome that they remember they need to bring their wives something.”

“So the men's forgetfulness keeps you in business?” You ask with a small laughter and she sends you a clandestine look.

“That and their bad conscience.” It doesn’t seem like a big deal to her, an off-hand mention of the fact that many of the noble and proper men find no fault in keeping more than one lover, especially during long and straining journeys. You nod distantly, your eyes fixing on the green stones as you silently wonder if Acacius does the same. You’ve been retiring early and despite your tents usually being erected near each other, it would not have been impossible for the General to have a woman or two enter his tent for … evening entertainment.

Clearly, that is what he hoped to get from you too. And you gave yourself so willingly, actually believing that he could be interested in anything beyond your forbidden body. The thought makes your stomach feel funny.

“My lady?” The woman asks, her laughter having died away, the smile now replaced with a frown. “Are you not feeling well?”

***

“General?”

Acacius lets out a small groan at the voice of another soldier entering the tent, letting his head hang down in defeat. He is towering above the table, both arms leaning onto the wooden surface that is almost entirely covered in maps and lists. He arrived to meet with his centurions at the break of dawn, secretly hoping to put an early end to their planning and head back up to the villa before sunset. But of course, things are more complicated than they would need to be. Caracalla and Geta have sent orders after him, some that clash with his initial ones and he could just barely contain his annoyance at the Emperor's non-existent decision-making.

“What now?” He groans quietly, closing his eyes for a short moment, sending a silent prayer to whatever gods are listening to just let his day end so he can go back to you, maybe even have another walk in the garden. He felt you tremble below his touch last night, saw the way the fabric hugged your curves and he already knows that the only thing he regrets more than starting this whole thing with you is ending it. He just wants–

“Forgive the disturbance, my General but Sir Orbilius wishes to send word. The Vestal has gone.”

His eyes shoot open and in one quick motion, he has straightened himself and turned toward the soldier who looks slightly alarmed at the sudden movement. “What?” He demands, his voice rough and full of impatience.

“The- The Vestal–” The young man chokes out and before he can repeat himself in full, Acacius has shoved himself past him and out of the entrance of the tent. He knows that he is being unprofessional, that while your safety has priority for the Roman Empire, he needs to appear calm and collected, the same way he always does.

But he can’t. Visions flash in front of his eyes. You could have been taken. He checked the perimeter every night when you were sleeping in the tents. Why the hell did he not think to check that of the house as well?

“The temple–” The young soldier is panting when he reaches Acacius swinging himself onto his horse.

“What? What temple?” He inquires, settling into the saddle as several of his Centurions do the same around him.

“The soldiers at the gates, they said she talked about visiting the temple,” he yaps out. The sentence is barely finished when Acacius spurs his white stallion on, the horse immediately falling into a gallop, rushing past soldiers that raise their heads and their gazes that follow him with growing confusion.

“I will check the town,” he calls over his shoulder, the other men riding behind him. “You close down the main roads in and out of the city. I want no one to pass through the gates while we are looking for her.” His men shout back in agreement and begin to split up, though none of them are quite as rushed as Acacius himself. He almost runs over some of the people passing through the main street, including an older man pushing his half-empty cart of fruits. Acacius doesnt even register the curses send his way, all his senses instead trained to spot even just a hint of you. Every moment, he half expects you to emerge from the crowd or to meet your eyes down one of the streets that lead off the main road, to see you struggling against men or monsters or both.

“Gods–” He whispers, half cursing them out for allowing this and half begging them to bring you back safe. His heart is racing when he jumps off his horse in front of the temple, not caring in the slightest that he is creating a scene. He pushes the large front doors open, stepping inside and letting his eyes fly through the room. Those who were praying a moment ago have turned around at the noises of his arrival and the crowd outside and he briefly passes every face with his eyes. You have to be here. You have to.

But you’re not. Which can only mean that something has happened. That you either never left the villa willingly or that something went wrong after you did, that someone has been biding their time and just waiting to strike at the right moment. A you presented them with a glorious opportunity.

He turns on his heel, marching through the crowd, his face hard like stone. Trying not to betray the way he feels inside.

The shops. You spoke of the shops last night. He is not going to stop looking for you until he has either found you well and alive or– he forces himself not to entertain the alternative. So he may as well start in the center of town.

His senses are still dialled up to eleven, ignoring the whispers and stares that he is attracting by marching through the middle of the street, his gaze passing through each of the storefronts. When he passes one that is decorated with colorful scarves and fabrics, he pauses. Voices drift to him from inside and through the entryway of the house he can spot what he has been looking for.

“Are you out of your mind?!” He half-yells as he storms into the small shop, the woman who was next to you a moment ago immediately stumbling back, her eyes widening at the sight of the General.

He watches your gaze change too and he can’t decide what upsets him more. The look on your face before you see him, so casual and nonchalant like you are just on a comfortable trip without a care in the world– or the one after you see him. Your eyebrows immediately knitting together, your lower lip pushed out ever so slightly in a way that makes it look like you want to cry.

“I was just…” You start but he shakes his head and to his own surprise, the noise he lets out almost sounds like a growl.

“We are going back.” He orders, not sparing the other woman one glance, his eyes only fixed on you. Like you’ll disappear the second he blinks. “Now,” Acacius adds impatiently and you nod obediently, handing back whatever you’d been holding and stepping over to him. His hand hovers above your waist for a few moments and he wants to grab you, wants to wrap himself so tightly around you that you’ll have no choice but to stay with him. But he has to remind himself that you are still in public. And despite the obvious anger at your choices, he cannot be seen touching a Vestal like that.

***

It feels like he has a grip on you without needing his hands. Acacius’s mere presence radiates the anger you see reflected in his face, his breathing heavy and his eyes dark.

You know you messed up. You half expect him to call for a carriage, to place you inside and send you straight back to Rome. That you’ve finally pushed him far enough for him to push back. You almost wish he would.

But he doesn’t. He steers both of you up the hill, ignoring the looks of the townsfolk and soldiers alike. He gives a nod to the guards at the gate when you pass them and you keep your head down, like you are a prisoner being led past a jury that has already settled on a verdict.

“Your guard will stay with you at all times,” Acacius mutters as you tread up the path to the villa. “No more sneaking off or going out– Nothing.” He leads you all the way upstairs to your room, holding the door open for you and– to your surprise– following you inside. You hear the wooden door close behind him and step toward the small window, waiting for him to speak.

He still sounds like he’s out of breath and you can hear him shift on his feet. “Do you even realize what kind of danger you put yourself in?”

The sigh slips past your lips before you can stop it and you shake your head, turning to face him. He’s all squared shoulders and crossed arms, his teeth grinding in anger. At least you believe it to be anger.

You have a list of things that you could argue with; that it was daylight, that Beneventum is a safe town, that you didn’t venture down any dark allies, that you were careful. But you already know they will do nothing to lessen Acacius’s upset. “Just let me be.”

Somehow, that also seems to be the wrong thing to say because he scoffs in disbelief, stepping closer to you, his eyes flashing dangerously. “Do you know what people would do to you? To a Vestal they have all to themselves, that has no defense with her?”

“Oh, let’s see–” You start, raising a brow as you too step closer, bringing you into reach of each other. “What would they do?” Your eyes fixate his. You’re certain you’ll see anger flash red in them in a moment. “That’s right, they would touch me, is that it? Not like you ever would, right?”

The anger never comes. Instead, Acacius’s eyelids flutter and he steps back, his entire body deflating like he’s been struck.

You immediately want to take it back. But you’re tired and frustrated and he is just so, so impossible and you don’t understand him.

“Get some sleep. We’re leaving early tomorrow morning,” Acacius chokes out, his eyes not meeting yours. Then, he turns and rushes out of the room.

You spend the rest of the evening wondering if you merely imagined the slight tremble in his hands.

notes: okay okay i know a lot of fighting but hear me out … things are happening. acacius realizing how easily he is terrified by dulcissima being in (supposed) trouble is not just really fun to write but also something that may be an important realization for him. just saying. see you very soon ♡

[for-a-longlongtime]

Hey Anon, I saw your message this morning! 💜

You pointed out "Yall need to be careful of bi erasure" and linked to a post someone made about me. I appreciate the heads up! To be honest, I’m not concerned about people suggesting that I’m doing bi erasure. Whether it’s regarding Pedro characters in canon, head canons, or bisexuality in any other way. But hey, everybody can have their opinion about things, including what they think about me.

I dont talk much about myself here, but my tumblr bio has said from day 1 that I’m a bi woman. My master list mentions most of my fic “is queer (m/m, bi4bi, m/m/f, non-binary and trans characters)”. Folks who have read my fic know I've written pairings where every character is explicitly bi ( Frankie x f!reader x Santi; Peña x Rockford x OFC; Ezra x f!reader x Benny Miller, and WIPs with Joel and Marcus M, Frankie x f!reader x OFC and Maximus x Acacius x Lucilla).

Can bisexual people still do bi erasure? Sure!

Do I worry whether straight folks or other random folks online think I'm involved in bi erasure? Nahhh.

Anyway, I did make some posts the other day based on anons submitted to me about issues re: queer representation in this fandom. Let me just direct you to the several posts I made on that day, which started in response to a question about Renaldo:

"Was Renaldo Gay in the SNL sketch?? I've seen a lot of blogs saying he wasn't?". TL;DR version of my response: the ending of the song states "word to the wise, if you've got wives, hide them from the three bros!" suggesting that Renaldo, Domingo, and Santiago all hook up with women/wives. Considering Renaldo hooked up with Matthew, that probably makes him bisexual (and not the fact that he had Sophie, aka Sabrina's character, dancing up on him) - or queer, or someone who doesn't like to label himself. However, while 'hide your wives' works linguistically as a great punch line to wrap up the song, it does not refer to Renaldo's affair with Matthew (now that is bi erasure, if you wanna be exact), so I did point out that 'hide your spouses' would've been more accurate - but understandably, that's not as catchy. I'm currently writing a Renaldo x Matthew one shot, and I said my headcanon has Renaldo as gay - but that's my interpretation/hc/fic.

Someone wrote to me: Some blogs in the fandom is hellbent on taking away any attention away from anything mlm based with his characters anyway so it wouldn't matter in Renaldo was gay - someone would find a loophole to make him like women. TL;DR I agreed, because there are people who definitely do that. It became part of a longer thread of reblogs with some other folks in which we talked about how Pedro's mlm (men loving men) characters, such as Oberyn, Dieter and Silva in particular, either tend to be canonized primarily as bisexual by people but in fic are almost always paired with women (f!reader or OFCs). Which is fine, but people are definitely interested in seeing more m/m representation for those characters. Someone also brought up that when Pedro characters are paired with non-binary reader inserts or OC, it tends to be mostly afab!nb (or afab!trans characters), and that they were surprised that there weren't more amab!nb characters - that's a great point too.

I made a post with an anon message that pointed out "MLM includes bi, pan and queer men. They might like women. (And/or other genders, but they still like men)". Very correct!

Finally, there was an excellent long message from an anon saying "We need more representation of bi people in same-gender relationships represented" and that even in threesomes or throuples (fic) that include two men, there should ideally be more mlm representation. Once again, I fully agree. Everybody should write whatever they want, but I do often see threesomes that are listed as Pedro Character 1 x reader x Pedro Character 2, but in the fic it's more like reader having sex with two straight men at the same time while they're trying to not cross swords, rather than mlm being represented. THIS IS DEFINITELY CHANGING THOUGH: it's wonderful to see a big increase of mlm characters in threesomes/throuple fics over the past year!

So here is my main issue with a lot of people who are raging about 'bi erasure', and why I've made several posts about queerness within this fandom (not just recently, but from the start). Of course bisexual people exist (hello, it me, for one). Pull up some statistics if you want: there are a lot more folks who identify as bisexual than there are folks who identify as gay or lesbian. I'm an older millenial, so if you wanna talk about bi erasure: the measure in which it happens today is nothing compared to the bi erasure and deeply engrained homophobia we experienced in our teens and twenties from society at large. However:

🏳‍🌈 In your rush to point out bisexuals exist, you're shutting down a much broader dialogue with people within the LGBTQIA+ community. 🏳‍🌈

Because have you noticed how gay men, nonbinary/genderqueer fans, amab!trans or amab!nonbinary FANS (not fic characters; I'm talking actual people) are extremely underrepresented in this fandom? In addition to in fic? And that these fans won't have their fiction or actual posts shared all that much? Or that when they carefully speak up, e.g. about being happy to see Pedro portray Silva as a gay character, they're immediately rebuffed and called biphobic or that they're trying to erasure bisexuality?

Yeah. That part.

It's messed up.

Nobody is even making demands. Nobody is even saying "what writers are doing is wrong". They're just saying, "This is a bummer". And some of us are pointing out that mlm Pedro characters in m/m pairings are hard to come by, which is too bad because it's not only us queers who read m/m Pedro character pairings - there are lots of straight fans out there who have indicated they like reading that, too.

Are you gonna call that bi erasure? Or marginalization of women? Or anything really except for what it actually is? Fans are just saying "yknow, I wish there were more fans/fic characters/bodies in fic represented in this fandom that look and feel more like me". People seem to have finally understood that in varying degrees when this applies to body type or racial/cultural background (which took many white people a lot longer to fully grasp; BIPOC folks have been saying this for such a long time already) - it's about diversity and wanting to feel included. But when gay or transfolks say this about mlm, a whole bunch of y'all are crying bi erasure?

In short (and I can't believe I need to even fuckin' say this):

The Pedro fandom or its fic does NOT belong exclusively to women.

It does not belong to cis folks, to straight people, or any other particular group of people.

Aren't we all just trying to be a community? Then stop acting like people reading Silva or Renaldo (or any other character) as gay are erasing bisexuality - that's not the case or the damn point.

And anon-- my critique truly isn't directed at you, I'm not dragging you in any way. You took the effort to bring something to my attention, plus you clearly care about people, and I appreciate that a lot. But there are tons of people who don't dare to speak up about this in public settings, so I can't help but take this opportunity to not only clarify what I said earlier -- but also to address the bigger problem at large. Read or write all the gossip blogs you want, by all means, but maybe also consider using that time to actually connect with people.

[thatswhatsushesaid]

there's something profoundly distressing to me about one of the moderators of the disco elysium subreddit literally having to go on main to tell members of the sub not to advocate for violence against real, named human beings, because that is a thing that they are doing--only to have those very same sub members respond by insisting the moderator can't be serious, because everyone knows it's okay to talk about killing high net worth individuals on reddit. it's totally okay to make specific plans to kill high net worth individuals on reddit. it's totally okay and defensible and good praxis to state that anyone who isn't okay with advocating for killing specific, named high net worth individuals, will be the next up against the wall. it's a good idea to put this shit in writing actually. (what.)

like. aside from the fact that this is 1) a clear violation of reddit's terms of service and 2) could get the moderators and other members of this subreddit in serious legal trouble at a time when the law and justice in the courts is ostensibly out of reach for many of us, i just strongly doubt whether these people were actually paying attention to this game's key message about the moral defensibility of shooting people in the head. namely that there is no moral defence for it, because every shot you take has a ripple effect that quickly spirals out of your control. like that is very much a thing that happens, specifically in this game, because someone literally gets shot in the head.

where is that quote from kim kitsuragi, aka this fandom's favourite character and someone who is arguably the game's--and harry's--literal moral compass, talking about why he's glad that breechloading weapons aren't available to RCM officers? i can't find the quote, so i'm paraphrasing here, but it goes something like "can you imagine what it would be like if RCM officers didn't have to think each time they pull the trigger? the next shot becomes easier and easier. you don't even think about it anymore."

[mvrdermeharder]

So in the wake of ch 294, i’ve been thinking about what’s left for Kaiser’s development…

Unfortunately, as i had expressed in one of my prev posts, i think his story has a very high chance of ending in tragedy (by which i mean death).

BUT, as he’s my fav trash boy, i’m not willing to give up on hope just yet. So i kinda want to ramble a bit about Archangel Michael’s history and iconography to find a leeway towards a better ending… and i’ll possibly do a deep dive in another post.

As i’m in the midst of editing… “deep dive” lmao as if this post didn’t end up as long as it did.

So basically, it’s a fact that bllk is full of christian symbology and references (mainly when it comes to kainess, to be specific), and it’s obvious that not only Kaiser’s given name, but also his appearance is inspired by how Saint Michael is represented in the most famous paintings:

Long(er) blond hair, androgynous facial features, wearing a blue tunic + often a red piece of cloth floating around him (Kaiser is permanently wearing these two colors on his body: red eyeliner tattoo, blue rose tattoo. Blue is also just his signature color in general.)

But here’s what i find even more interesting: Kaiser’s character is not only based on Archangel Michael, but it also incorpores a lot of visual elements that Lucifer is represented with (Lucifer is God’s ex-favorite angel, who CHALLENGED AND REBELLED AGAINST GOD, so then God kicked him out of heaven basically… you’ll likely know this angel by the name of Satan)

Now, the representations of Lucifer/Satan vary throughout history, with the earliest representations being in Egypt… so i won’t mention everything bc we’d be here for hours, instead i’ll just boil it down to only those characteristics that Kaiser and Lucifer have in common in SOME representations.

So, Lucifer/Satan is often represented as the most beautiful angel of all, sometimes in blue/red clothing, completely nude, OR in a demon like form: a goat-man with hooves, horns, and bat like wings. In the panel below, Kaiser takes up an anthropomorphic form (humanlike traits mixed with animalistic traits) as he immerses himself in his own malice: his legs and feet remind me of the hooves of a goat-man, aka Lucifer.

So despite Kaiser being a sort of reincarnation of Archangel Michael, his personality morphs into that of the cruel and sadistic Lucifer. He wants to rebel against God, he longs to cast his malice on the world’s football players to feel joy (just like how Satan finds enjoyment in tormenting humans), and in the latest chapter he claims that it was wrong to let go of his malice towards Yoichi, and that he should rely on his malicious urges to steal…

(For context, i’m using panels w the official translations, NOT the more widespread PO2 ones)

So now that i’ve explained how Kaiser takes on the characteristics of both of these angels, i want you to scroll back a bit to the paintings of St. Michael.

What we see in these paintings is the battle between St. Michael and Lucifer. We see Michael stepping down on Lucifer, in a complete victory. (The sword in his hands represents rightful justice, but that’s not very important rn)

And the way i see it, the manga might follow this story. But not in the traditional way of physical conflict between two bodies, instead, it’s an incredible internal and psychological conflict!

The great battle takes place in Kaiser’s mind, and if Kaneshiro intends to follow the famous biblical story, this conflict will end with the “defeat” of Kaiser’s unhealthy mentality (=defeat of his satan-like qualities).

Or at least that’s what I’m hoping for w this theory. I really don’t want to see my boy dead due to his fucked up mentality (Mick Moon theory… oh how i loathe u)

Paintings that i’ve used for reference:

Guido Reni - Archangel Michael defeats Satan

Luca Giordano - Saint Michael

Antonio Maria Esquivel - The Fall of Lucifer

Luca Giordano - The Fall of the Rebel Angels

Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino - (Little) Saint Michael

Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino - Saint Michael Vanquishing Satan

Francisco Goya - Witches' Sabbath

[katerinaaqu]

"My Athena" also means "my design" and again because apparently when someone speaks "the wrong opinion" get bullied allow me to say it again;

I have nothing against the artist

In fact I watch the artist, I praised their art many times and I supported the artist when people came for their head but once the artist asks which version of the art we prefer and I said this because it responds better to Greek standards for their gods...

Oh the horror!

Suddenly I am the bad guy and also responding to another person that calls gods "fictional characters" which they are not Suddenly again made me attacking the artist which I wasn't lol. I responded to the person that responded to me but of course I am the bad guy again.

Also just in case it escapes you my friend

I am literally Greek

And no I do not mean "of Greek descent" nor of "Greek lineage" nor "of Greek nationality". I am literally fucking born raised and established in Greece by Greek parents grandparents great grandparents and so on and so forth so allow me to know very well how Greeks look like thank you very much

Which is why as I elaborated to the person that replied to me (again NOT the artist) that the Greeks painted their gods as THE IDEAL for them aka pale skin and preferably pale hair and eyes exactly because it was not as usual for someone to have ultra pale hair in Greece (even if light brown or borderline blondish hair is not uncommon especially on the north and Central Greece) which AGAIN was the reason for my choice

Also I find it funny how you say "they are not ultra pale or ultra dark" so either way is fine but apparently me explaining why the first choice seems to me that fits better to the ancient greek standards somehow is not fine.

Also I love the comment that "is not like they were historically respectful because they colonized" here we go with the usual "colonizing" argument so "yeah serves you right for colonizing" like that is literally not how it works. With the same logic every culture did something to a neighboring one and established themselves throughout history which is also part of the importance of the depiction of each region. How people depict their gods and goddesses even those imported from other religions (thus my mention of Isis)

Which is again why also respecting cultures is important. You will never see me depicting goddesses Isis red haired and pale just because a statue of hers in Greece was depicted as such. I will depict her as Egyptians envisioned her. Likewise I would do for any other culture like Chinese Japanese etc

Which again has NOTHING to do with the artist. It has to do with why I choose what I chose

And again it is incredible how my opinion on this is questioned while sure everything else that supports a mainstream media is fine and then when someone comes attacking me and I reply as to why I choose what I chose again I AM the bad guy? Okay.

Who said that the movie 300 is a good film? Like most of people I was dealing with trashtalked it or faced it as a joke because of how badly it had depicted ACTUAL history also what is your aeguement here? "Some people did like it therefore your opinion here doesn't matter"? Since when? Everyone is entitled to their own opinion and I have even had various disagreements with professors of mine in university because they supported wrong in my opinion ideas even straight out historical inaccuracies (I have seen a feminist professor speaking on how corsets were torture devices when she was generalizing the tight lacing which was not the norm) so again what is the point here? People having different opinions? Wow.

Of course you can as long as you do it to everyone. Would you depict a native American deity as Asian? Sure. Would you depict an African deity as Japanese as well and claim the same thing? Because like I said I am mostly concerned with the double standards going on around and honestly i love it again how I am the one being attacked for literally doing what this post asked

Stating my preference...and my preference being linked to historical and cultural evidence is somehow problematic or odd...

Wow 👌🏻

Redesigned my Athena.

[lemonsrosesandlavender]

Stretched (Part 1)

aka a filthy rolan x cleric postgame concept that I might write one day but in the meantime desperately want to get out of my brain and onto the page. EDIT: HAHAHAHA never mind, I wrote it. fuck me. Here you are, 1324 words and only part one!

ft fingering, “do assholes really work like that? we ignore it for kink reasons” and the BG3 equivalent of medical kink. Mild dubcon for "Rolan's having a great time but a healer shouldn't be enjoying fingering your asshole this much"

Rolan’s settled into the Tower; theoretically he has everything he wants. Apart from Tav, that is; he nursed a sore crush on them for a long time— ever since they saved his siblings— and has only just come to accept that they’re never coming back from Waterdeep. (… Several months after their wedding to Gale). Tav’s presence, however, awoke a very long-neglected (and repressed) part of him, and now though he thinks less often of them when he handles himself… he still handles himself often. Could it be the Archmage still needs something in his life beyond the Tower and his siblings?

He finds it, with some shame, behind the counter at Sharess's Caress. In disguise, of course; he doesn't want the city to know he's buying toys... especially not toys of this size. Rolan doesn't start with the largest ones, but as his hopes of Tav grow fainter, he finds himself seeking more and more challenge, more punishment for his aching, gaping hole. He loves to imagine them stretching him, taunting him for pining over them - claiming him as their own. And now that's receding, he still finds himself addicted to the sensation, barely able to come unless he's struggling on a cock far thicker than his own.

The figure that the cleric sees, coming through her door, is stiff with embarrassment, a violently crimson flush revealed on his cheeks as he casts off his Dragonborn disguise to show the tiefling underneath. Not just any tiefling.

‘Archmage,’ she says in recognition, keeping the note of amusement she feels hidden. She’s a professional, after all… although whatever ailment he has come to her with must be rather delicate, especially when his title makes him flush further and insist on being called by his name only. After a fair amount of evasion, and the confirmation that she is as discreet as every one of her previous clients has said, she at last pries out his problem: he fears he has stretched himself.

‘Using what implements? What are the symptoms?’

‘What other symptoms do you need?’ he hisses, before catching himself. ‘I know how it is supposed to feel.’

‘Is this immediately after use of toys, or…?’

‘I am not an idiot— I know to expect it after—but this feeling persists near-constantly.’ His voice drops, and she sees the true mortification and worry behind his bluster. It’s… more than professionally interesting. Poor man. She will make his embarrassment worthwhile.

‘Remove your trousers, and get on the bench. I need to examine the situation.'

He casts an anxious look at the door before he disrobes, and she asks if he'd like it locked; his shoulders drop a little when it is.

'Have you cleaned up, or should I—'

Rolan conjures a Prestidigitation faster than she can finish the sentence.

'Do not misunderstand,' he disclaims. 'I came prepared— I am merely being cautious—'

She can hear the irritable sound of him swallowing his nerves, and pats his bare ass gently. There's a slight hitch in Rolan's breath.

'Don't worry about it. Now.' She takes the base of his tail in his hand, and he draws another sharp intake of breath. If she had to label his affliction as anything, she would be inclined to say it was starvation. He is so hungry for her touch, that the slightest movement makes him shiver... and between his legs, his cock is beginning to stiffen.

Rolan clenches his thighs as she moves his robe out of the way, drawing his tail up so she can get a good look at his hole.

'Are you wearing this every day?' she asks, tapping the plug in his entrance.

It is rather basic, compared to the rest of him. His hair is beautifully twisted, and his elegant silk robes are drenched in expensive silverwork. But the plug is plain; not a jewel or crest in sight. Perhaps he is too ashamed of this hobby to let himself truly indulge in it. (A shame in itself, when the plug sits so prettily between his lovely, pert cheeks).

'Yes,' he admits.

'Mmm.'

'I have to!' he protests irritably. 'Otherwise, I can think of nothing else but the sensation of it. Being open—'

'I understand,' she says soothingly. 'I'll have to remove it for now.'

'Of course,' Rolan whispers, tensing his thighs even harder.

She puts a hand on one. 'Relax. Otherwise this will be more difficult.'

He lets out a choked whimper— but he does as he's told, and he keeps relaxing, with the utmost effort, until the plug is drawn from his hole.

There's no denying he's hard now. The cleric oils her fingers, presses one easily inside to begin the examination.

'One easy,' she murmurs, pushing it further up until she finds his pleasure spot. It feels healthy; in fine working order, if Rolan's gasp is anything to go by. She curls her finger a little more.

'Fuck!' Rolan whimpers. 'I mean— Zurgan— excuse me.'

‘Don’t worry about it. Just stay relaxed. I’m going to see how easily you accommodate wider objects.’

She presses another finger in, appreciating the heat inside him. Tieflings always run hotter than other humanoids. The lack of hair is very pleasing too— perfect for someone as neat and ordered as Rolan clearly is. The oil slicked on her fingers spills down his taint; she pauses for a moment, and takes a washcloth to wipe him clean.

Rolan’s asshole might be a little stretched, but she still feels it tense urgently around her. He lets out a short whimper, stifling it unsuccessfully with a cough.

‘Keep your tail up,’ she murmurs, as if she hasn’t noticed.

‘Yes— ’

Three fingers. Rolan shakes. She didn’t encounter much resistance, but clearly the act of being probed is rather stimulating for him, stretch or not.

‘Let me see.’ She gathers all four fingers, pressing them against his entrance— now, there is a little resistance— and checks to see how Rolan is taking it.

The moment he realises she’s looking at him, his cock twitches, and he panics, pulling away from her examining fingers.

‘Surely that’s enough,’ he gasps, dragging at the tails of his robe to hide his cock.

‘I need to determine the extent of the problem, if you want me to treat it properly.’

His tail flicks as he looks back at her. ‘Wretched Hells. Just how much are you going to put up there?’

The attempt at nonchalance comes out thin, breathy instead of confident. She can’t help but find him a little fascinating; easily embarrassed and yet pretending to be bold. And all over something so mild; she has treated people with far stranger ailments. Once again, she wonders if he perhaps only needs somebody else to make him feel that this is alright. Not that it matters at the present.

‘I’m going to find your limit,’ she says. ‘When it hurts, say now.’

Rolan pauses, and cedes, raising his tail once more to reveal his worked hole. His claws curl anxiously into the bench leather. ‘I am ready— ah— ah— ah— now!’

All four fingers and thumb, but not even close to the knuckle. Whatever monstrous girths he thinks he’s been stretching himself with, she is sure he could take quite a lot more— with practise and encouragement of course.

‘That’s the examination finished then,’ she tells him. ‘Let me clean you up.’

Again, she presses a gentle cloth to his skin— all the way down to his balls this time. He shivers, whimpering at her touch and not even trying to hide it this time. Too far gone, perhaps.

She notices a drip from his cock beneath him on the bench, and cleans that up too. Not the cock that it came from, though; that is his concern, even if he seems to anticipate it when she reaches beneath him.

‘Now,’ she murmurs, washing her hands off. ‘I’ll just consult my notes, and make you up a treatment salve.’

‘It is curable?’ Rolan asks.

‘Oh, certainly. I’ll explain what you have to do.’

[osarina]

I am very curious to know what the rest of the ADA crew think of pm reader especially atsushi considering how he looks up to dazai and kyouka did her and pm reader ever meet or hear of each other in the mafia ?

PFFF DUFHASUDFSH THEY DON'T LIKE OUR GIRL I FEAR </333 actually unfortunately i cannot delve into atsushi's feelings about her because there's actually going to be a fic about it that ive been slowly chipping away at. but as for the rest:

yosano - she does not hate her, she feels quite a it guilty about how things went down back when they were both with mori, but pmreader despises her LOL i ahve a whole post dedicated to her and yosano if you want me to find it

kunikida - highly detest each other. kunikida after the events of cannibalism, and pmreader after the events of dazai's 23rd bday

tanizaki - hates her, possibly more than kunikida because during the events of cannibalism, she sent her subordinate to hold naomi and haruno hostage until dazai agreed to set up the meeting between her and kunikida

kenji - does not hate anyone LOL i would actually love to have them meet at some point

ranpo - doesn't detest her the same way kunikida does, also isn't necessarily fond of her because of how she tried to convince kunikida to kill fukuzawa. i think he would tolerate her if anything, admires her wits - i dont think they would ever be friends, but they'd probably have the most cordial relationship of all of the ada (aka, she exploits his sweet tooth by bringing him fancy chocolates and candies from abroad LOLLL)

kyouka - she never knew pmreader while she was in the mafia, she HEARD of her ofc because she was an executive, but pmreader was abroad for the majority of the time kyouka was with the mafia. is not fond of her in the present for some reasons i cannot get into (has to do with the atsushi centric fic)

fukuzawa - actually feels similarly to yosano because he'd met her a few times when she was a kid and with mori. he feels like if hed done something different, he maybe would've been able to get both of them out from under mori's thumb. so honestly whenever she's brought up, fukuzawa is quite solemn

[hl-obsessed]

fic rec: january-february | links to the original manip

💎✨ The Green Room by @jasthelarrie

(M, 112k) “For the last time, go away! This is fucking harassment, you know that? I’m well within my rights to call the cops.” Louis wished he could have hidden the tremor in his voice. He knew that it was thick with emotion. He was frustrated, angry, and beyond devastated.

“Uh…”

That was definitely not his ex's voice. Louis froze. Who had he just sworn at?

AKA

Louis has just been through a bad break-up and accidentally verbally assaults unsuspecting flower delivery man Harry.

scent holding me ransom by @the-larry-way

(E, 18k) Louis is obsessed with the scent of an omega he's never seen. Harry knows his dirty secret.

✨ all the sins you didn't have by @twopoppies

(E, 99k) It’s 1880, and premier danseur Harry Styles is running out of time. At twenty-five, he’s fast becoming too old for the lecherous benefactors who frequent The Paris Opera Ballet’s infamous backstage, and the only way to ensure he isn’t left penniless or rotting away in a brothel is to secure a permanent patron.

Enter Lord Louis Tomlinson: wealthy, young, handsome. And, unfortunately, a notorious rake. Harry strikes him and his gigantic ego off the list immediately… At least until they realize they have a common set of enemies and a common goal: revenge.

Though their ruse starts smoothly enough, the decadent freedom of Belle Époque Paris gives way to the rigid social rules of aristocratic Victorian London. Can a relationship that started as a calculated deception withstand the harsh realities of societal expectations and family duty to become a love more honest and profound than either has ever known?

✨ Things I Want, Things I Need by @canonlarry

(E, 14k) Most people don't find out whether they're an alpha, beta, or omega until somewhere around their eighteenth year, which means Louis finds out he's an omega long before his best friend and sometimes lover Harry will get a clue. Zayn is the loyal alpha friend who takes care of Louis during his heats. Liam is Zayn's beta mate, Niall tries to keep the peace, and Harry just wants to know what he is already.

✨ To find home (is wherever you are) by CrOminona

(E, 46k) Harry will wake up tomorrow and life will go on as always. They will go out with their friends, they will catch up and have fun. And then one day too soon Louis will pack his bag again, will find a flight to wherever he hasn’t seen yet and he will leave the city.

Harry will stay behind, waiting for the texts he barely receives sometimes, some of them sent at weird hours because of time zones. Days will become weeks, life will carry on in London with little to tell and a lot to do. And one day Harry will stop counting the hours that has passed since he last saw him and just expect Louis to appear whenever he pleases. Could be three weeks. Two months. One and a half. They never know, but Louis always comes back.

Go With It by embro

(NR, 4,4k) Prompt: "You thought I was someone else and started making out with me in a club and you're really hot so I just kinda went with it and now we're heading back to your place and I don't know how to break it to you"

don't let it break your (arm) by @the-larry-way

(G, 816) Louis seems to have forgotten his husband thanks to the wonders of anesthesia. Doesn't mean he's forgotten his attraction though.

Tattoos and Temptations by

(E, 67k) “Love,” he drawled, the word dripping with sinful allure, “I’ve got tattoos that are older than you,” he murmured, his voice a rough whisper, his breath warm against Harry’s lips.

Harry tilted his head, a teasing smirk of his own tugging at his mouth despite the rapid beat of his heart. “What can I say, I like experienced men.”

Louis chuckled low in his throat, a sound that sent heat rushing through Harry’s veins. “Cheeky little thing, aren’t you?” he murmured, his hand sliding up Harry’s back to tangle in his curls. He tugged lightly, just enough to tip Harry’s head back and expose more of his neck.

“You’re the one winding me up.”

don't call me baby by @vintageumbroshirt

(G, 2k) A short and cliché roommates AU inspired by To Be So Lonely, where they’re both oblivious to each other’s feelings and Harry gets sad and jealous over nothing. It works out in the end.

The Only One (when it's said and done) by @londonfoginacup

(T, 6,1k) Louis Tomlinson, alpha, twenty nine years old, is head of the Tomlinson pack.

He's unbonded, and happily so. A trip to the neighbouring Arthur pack certainly isn't going to change that.

Sweet Baby by @jishlerfics

(E, 5,3k) “Haz,” he said, “do you like being held down?”

Taking a shaky breath, Harry finally looked Louis in the eyes. “I think so.”

💎✨ And That Was That by @lightwoodsmagic

(E, 22k) “Okay. When Zayn and I were working on the set yesterday, Liam dropped by and mentioned he had a date. I asked Zayn about it, and he said that they’re ah - poly?”

Harry blinked.

“Oh yeah, I knew that. Li mentioned it when we were playing tennis once.” He ran his hand through Louis’ hair, smiling softly when he nuzzled into the touch. “Is that what’s making you act strange? Because it seems like something that works for them, and I —.”

“Zayn has feelings for me.” A deep breath, and then blue eyes locked on green. “He said he needs distance because he has to get over them.”

Harry hadn’t realised his hand had fallen from Louis’ face until his fingers were being tangled and gripped tightly.

Or, Zayn and Liam have been polyamorous for years, but Harry and Louis are monogamous. When Zayn meets Louis and starts to fall for him, it opens them all up for something they've never experienced before.

.💐💐💐

(okay so i didn't read much and these are some amazing fics that i mostly barely remember reading 🙄 seems like i have to do reread of them all 🙈🙈🙈)

.💐💐💐

all my fic recs

[the-fyre-flie]

Robin!Bruce Wayne and Superboy!Kal El au... yes, I'm gunna keep writing about it. You can find other posts about it on my pinned!!

Bruce and Kal being at the Watchtower for a few hours while their dad's discuss current events, featuring other Reverse AU characters hehe. Also... yes I know it's weird Superman and Batman are the fathers while Flash and Green Arrow are the kid sidekicks, I don't care, I think they're all cute and deserve interactions.

ALSO THIS IS INCREDIBLY LONG PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I SHOULD JUST MAKE AN AO3!!!!!

-

"Why did you drag me along? Isn't this a routine visit?" Bruce huffed as he adjusted his Robin costume, tugging at the cape that had gotten tangled during the sudden teleport up into the Watchtower. Ahead of him, Alfred, in his Batman costume, was already putting on that grim, mysterious Batman persona he only really used with his coworkers in the Justice League. It was such a stark contrast to the warm fatherly figure Alfred had been towards Bruce his entire life.

"Yes, it is routine. However, I decided it was time you actually joined me during these visits. The Justice League are our allies, and it is beneficial to have a positive relationship with other members." Alfreds tone was calm, like this was a lecture any young boy got. As they approached the main hall, Bruce was also adjusting his attitude, furrowing his brow slightly and donning a scowl. If Alfred got to be scary as Batman, he would get to be at the very least intimidating as Robin.

Entering the large meeting room, Bruce was greeted with the sight of a few different members of the Justice League and... their sidekicks? Was this just a poorly disguised excuse for all the heros to force their sidekicks to meet each other? Bruce's scowl shifted from an act to a genuine look of mild annoyance.

Superman, Jor El, and his son Superboy, Kal El, both got up from their seats when they saw Alfred and Bruce, each super immediately heading over to greet them. While Alfred and Jor spoke like old friends catching up (which they were), Bruce and Kals current relationship was too rocky for them not to speak akwardly. It was obvious that Jor has chewed out Kal for not being kinder to Bruce last time, as Kal immediately stuck out his hand in an attempt at apology.

"You fought well against the Joker a week ago. Thanks for helping in Smallville." He mumbled a bit as he spoke, his dark curly hair catching the light in a way that made it shine blueish. Being an alien, Kal had a lot of fairly unnatural features about him that you could only really notice if you spent hours researching Kyrptonians. Electric blue eyes, blueish hair, a naturally large build for a teen. It almost made Bruce envy him. Almost.

Bruce refused the handshake, arms crossed, but he did nod. It wasn't in his best interest to cause a scene or argument again. Last time, he was sat down for 3 hours and told how stupid and reckless it was to not only take on the Joker alone but to argue with a Kryptonian.

"You weren't an awful partner in the fight." Bruce got out, and Kal seemed to relax slightly. Getting the biggest hardass in the world ever, Robin, to admit he didn't hate you, was a good start. From behind Kal, a few of the other sidekicks were being pushed in their directions while their mentors engaged in the 'Grown Up Talk'.

Green Arrow, Roy Harper, sent over his sidekick, Oliver Queen AKA Speedy. Oliver was the only person who knew Bruce from before either of them became vigilante heros. They were currently attending the same private school, sharing a few classes. When each of them became sidekicks, they almost immediately recognized each other, throwing off the whole 'don't tell people your secret identity' thing.

"So, the Bat brought you too. Unlucky me. I gotta look at your ugly mug all day now." Oliver smirked under his mask, teasing Bruce, the quiver on his back rattling slightly as he moved. He placed a hand on his hip as he peered at Robin and Superboy, his own bright red costume fitting in perfectly with their equally bright blues, greens, and yellows.

Bruce couldn't help but smile ever so slightly back. Oliver was also the only sidekick he actually liked rather than just tolerated.

"Robinhood brought his merry men, I see. Off to go pilfer something and annoy everyone while you do it?" Bruce quipped back, Oliver feigning offense with a hand over his heart as he gasped.

"Rude. No wonder you have no hero friends." Oliver shook his head, playing up his disappointment, only to lightly slug Bruce in the arm. "I missed you, dude."

"We were in class together less than 8 hours ago." Bruce rubbed his arm, smiling as he punched Oliver back. Next to their respective mentors, they were some of the only non meta, non alien, non mythical god-like beings associated with the Justice League, and their physical abilities more or less matched.

"Time away from you is hellish~" Oliver mocked, adjusting his quiver again. The various arrows shifted when he moved it, chattering against each other.

As the pair spoke, Kal butted in, having begun floating cross-legged to keep himself focused.

"Why did all our heros bring us along? I have homework I gotta do..." He groaned, only for him to be interrupted by a flash of yellow.

"You guys have homework? I finished mine in class. Cuz I'm on top of things. Unlike you guys." Barry Allen, Kid Flash, grinned as he came to a sudden stop in front of the group, his goggles crooked on his face. Across the room, his mentor Wally West, Flash, was talking very animatedly with the reast of the Justice League.

"Only Superboy has homework. I also finished mine." As Bruce spoke, he nudged Oliver in the side. He had gotten distracted by trying to lip read the Justice League, squinting under his mask. "Huh? Oh yeah. I did mine, too. Do you guys know what 'Test Run' the JL was planning to do today?"

As Oliver spoke, the entire Watchtower rattled, the pitch shifting hard to the right, throwing everyone off balance except Kal, who floated far enough above the ground to grab Barry's arm before he slammed into the observation window like everyone else. Bruce and Oliver were a tangle of limbs as furniture joined them against the glass, a large crack audible.

"What the hell! What's going on?" Oliver shouted as he moved away from a table sliding directly towards him, Bruce quick to follow, vaulting over a chair.

"Where's the Justice League?" Barry shot a glance across the hall, where the Justice League had once been but no longer were. Somehow, in the split second the teens looked away, they were gone. As Kal placed Barry down, the speedster struggled to balance himself on the heavily tilted floor. The Watchtower groaned again, a distant explosion audible.

"We don't have time to worry about the JL. We have to stabilize the Watchtower before it moves far enough to fall into the Earth." Bruce pointed down a hall to where he knew the controls were located. Immediately, the group moved to follow his finger, only to be stopped. "No. We split up. Something is attacking the Watchtower. KF, with me. Superboy and Speedy, stick together and figure out where the problem is."

"Sure thing, wonder boy. Leave it to us." Oliver smirked before jogging off down an opposite hall, Kal rushing to fly after him. As they left, the Watchtower once again shook.

"Let's figure this out." Bruce grunted as he steadied himself against one of the walls, moving as quickly as he could towards the controls. Barry moved ahead, waiting at the end of the hall for Bruce, hands on his hips.

"What if we find what's messing with this place?" He asked, helping Bruce pry open the doors.

"If we find it, we fight it. Duh." Bruce rolled his eyes. With a loud creak, they slipped into the large domed room, Bruce immediately running to a particular panel and pulling a small device from his utility belt. As he plugged it in, the screens above them lit up with his emblem for a split second before displaying about a million lines of code rapidly scrolling. Barry kept watch of the door and hall, bracing himself as the entire structure felt increasingly more unstable.

"Something took over the controls. It's like... seeping into everything. The lights will probably-" Before Bruce could finish his sentence, the lights shut off, leaving them in the dark. The blue light from his small hand held device kept his face illuminated as he stood straight. "-go out. Damn it. The whole things shutting down. We need to get to Superboy and see if he could hold this up." Behind him, the Earth was very slowly getting closer.

"Sure thing. Let's find the boyscout and robinhood." Barry disappeared for a split second, leaving behind a blurry afterimage, only to immediately return, his suit slightly burnt around his ribs. His eyes were wide, worry written acorss his face. "I found em."

Skidding to a halt, Bruce was greeted with a large fire in the middle of the hall, Kal fist fighting a giant space tentacle while Barry was helping Oliver away from the flames.

"What the fuck is that?" Barry asked, supporting Oliver while the archer limped out of the path of rampage. Kal grunted as he was knocked from the air, shouting over the sound of metal losing its stability due to the fire, the screech and whine of shifting plates of steel almost deafening. "I have no idea! This thing is massive! I can't even see all of it!"

"Speedy, do you have any of those weird fast hardening expanding foam arrows?" Bruce called out as he threw a few batarangs at the beast, manging to slice off one of the larger tendrils that threatened to grab Kal. As the limb fell into the fire, another quickly replaced it.

"Yeah, hold on." Oliver wheezed slightly as he drew an arrow, lining up his shot. "The creature or the fire?"

"The fire. We gotta prevent any more damage. Superboy, can you stabilize the Watchtower back into orbit?" Bruce ducked as whatever was attacking them swiped at him, just barely missing him. He was suddenly very grateful that Alfred had signed him up for gymnastics instead of football.

"Sure. Can you guys handle this... thing, tho?" Kal floated backwards out of the range of the space monster thing. None of them had any idea what it was, what it was doing, what it wanted, if it took the Justice League... and honestly? It was a little scary. Of course, none of the boys would admit that.

"Yeah, we got it." Oliver let his arrow fly as Kal got out of the way, a large explosion of reddish foam filling the hall and quickly suffocating the fire and blocking off the beast. They were running in borrowed time, however. Snake like tentacles were already worming their way through the cracks, attempting to shatter the now tough-as-rock foam. "Robin, any of those ice pellets? The more of a barrier we put up the most occupied it'll be."

"On it." Bruce pulled a few small orbs from his belt, immediately lobbing them at the foam wall, watching as ice overtook the foam and froze what small tendrils had gotten through. Barry was still working to support Oliver as they backed away, Kal having disappeared out of a bay door to do what he could to stop the Watchtowers fall. The Watchtower itself was a breaking, burning, creaking mess, the floor no longer at an acceptable tilt to stand on, forcing them to stand on what used to be the wall. Without the lights or fire, the hall was dark, leaving the 3 young sidekicks in the shadows.

"So... now what?" Barry asked. Oliver had pushed him away, insisting he was fine, and Barry had moved to check every door under their feet. He was almost obsessively opening and closing them, searching for the Justice League like they were just hiding to jump out and yell 'surprise!'. "Can you find like... a heat signature or something? Trace them?"

"I've already tried. Nothing. We're completely alone up here." Bruce gritted his teeth as he led the 3 of them back to the control room, peering out of the window where Kal was struggling to hold up the Watchtower by himself. With a wave, Bruce called him back inside, Kals face falling.

"I can't keep it from falling... I'm not strong enough." Kal spoke softly, his brow furrowed. "If Superman was here-"

"Don't focus on that." Bruce snapped, holding his device close to his face as he typed and fidgeted on it. He was trying to send out a distress signal to anyone who could receive it, but it was like they were completely cut off from the universe. He was quiet for a long moment, the light of the sun dimmed heavily by the massive blue marble that was their home. They were facing the dark side, with dotted lights of cities and towns twinkling like stars. Stars they were now quickly approaching.

"Barry, go find the space walk gear. I have an idea." Bruce suddenly lit up as the ocean came into view.

Bruce adjusted the helmet over his face as he and Oliver suited up, Kal standing at the ready by the bay door. Barry was stationed in the control room, giving them updates on how much time they had left before they crash-landed into the American east coast.

"You have like 5 minutes, guys. Work faster." Barry's voice crackled over the team communication system, his knuckles white against the panel.

"You can't rush perfection." Oliver's smile was obvious as he made his way through space to the side of the Watchtower, Kal keeping guard while he rammed almost a dozen wired arrows into the hull of the space station. Pushing away from the final arrow, he quickly handed the bundle of wires to Kal before joining Bruce utop the structure itself.

"Superboy! Pull! Towards the ocean!" Bruce called over the comms, readying himself for a new fight as the giant space monster finally noticed them and was beginning to approach. Immediately, Kal was flying as hard as he could to the left, grunting as he pulled on the wired arrows. The plan was to redirect the fall into the ocean and avoid hitting anything civilian. It wasn't the best plan, but it was their only plan.

"Robin! Watch out!"

Bruce had been distracted by the sight of all of them careening towards his home, Gotham visible along the coastline. Pulled from his thoughts, he looked up to see a tentacle heading straight towards his face. The huge limb just barely managed to pin his legs, pain shooting through his body as he was trapped under slimey awful octopus like flesh. Before he could move to grab a utility knife from his belt, an arrow sliced through the limb, landing with a ka-chunk next to his head. When the tentacle was severed, it curled up on itself, allowing Robin to kick it off.

"Thanks." He mumbled as he stood, making sure his space gear wasn't damaged as he readied himself to protect Kal from the beast.

"Don't sweat it." Oliver notched another arrow, aiming for what seemed to be the face of the monstrosity. A few dozen eyes, a huge gaping jaw with razor-sharp teeth, the thing looked like it could eat a country if it wanted to. It looked nothing like any of them had ever seen before. And it very much wanted to kill them all. As the arrow flew, it stuck one of the eyes, causing the thing to scream.

"Fellas, can we maybe hurry up perfection? 3 minutes left, and we're still headed directly towards New Jersey." Barry spoke through the comms again, sounding genuinly distressed. This was basically their first time alone away from their heros and mentors, and they were so closing to fucking it all up and killing an entire state.

"I can't really pull any harder." Kals voice was strained, the wires visibly pulled to their extreme as he tried to streer the falling hunk of debris that the Watchtower had become. "That thing is weighing us down."

"We're trying to get rid of it." Bruce spoke, throwing a few explosion pellets to try and knock the thing off. It seemed to work slighly, the ship being pulled closer towards the ocean.

Oliver and Bruce were practically spamming the monster with attacks. Only when a large tentacle grabbed Oliver by the leg, hoisting him into space, did either of them stop. His arrows spilled from his quiver, floating in space around him as he was flailed around.

"Speedy!" Bruce yelled, scrambling across the hull of the Watchtower, an explosion rocking the buildings and sending him flying directly off the Watchtower. They were close to the earth, the gravity of the planet beginning to pull them all down to the surface. Shit. Bruce was falling to earth. His grapple gun had been knocked away from him, floating uselessly in space broken. Closing his eyes, he could feel the heat of reentering the atmosphere.

Until he didn't. Until he felt an arm around his waist. Opening his eyes, Kal was muttering about a dozen curses, placing him by the bay door before going to save Oliver, who was still being waved back and forth by the beast.

Bruce quickly ran to join Barry, who looked... excited. He waited to ask if they were clear of New Jersey, watching as they approached the planet.

"Did... we do it?" Kal heaved as he ran in, Oliver trailing in after him. Barry took a long moment to do mental calculations before nodding.

"We did it. The heat from re-entry should burn that stupid thing to a crisp!" Barry cheered, watching out the window as the giant beast began to scream in agony from the pain of fire bursting across its flesh. The other 3 breathed a sigh of relief, Kal opting to lay on the floor of the Watchtower.

Yet, in a split second, the entire scene shifted. The broken, burning Watchtower returned to... exactly how it was an hour ago before the Justice League disappeared. Lights on, floor stable, no broken panels or windows. Kal didn't even bother to sit up to figure out what was happening, muscles aching too bad to bother.

Bruce, however, was immediately on edge, only relaxing when he saw the Justice League. They were back?

"Batman? What happened? Where did you go?" He demanded, Alfred greeting him with a smile.

"Congratulations, Robin, Superboy, Speedy, and Kid Flash. You have... passed." Alfred spoke, the other heroes equally as proud looking. This was... a test. From behind the door, Miss Martain entered the hall, a smile plastered across her face.

"I am very proud! You all fought wonderfully, and your plan was well thought out!" She clapped as she approached, looking genuinly pleased.

"Wh...what?" Barry glanced between his mentor and the martian, having no clue what the hell just happened. Had there not been a giant alien monster here a second ago? Weren't they crash landing in the ocean. Bruce face palmed as it struck him what had happened.

"The JL used Miss Martain to like... brain connect us or whatever and simulate an emergency." He groaned. Why did Alfred always have to spring pop quizzes on him? Having time to prepare would be nice...

"Sorry for not warning you guys. It was the Bats idea, so don't blame us too harshly." Wally snickered, nudging Alfred in the side.

"It was a simple test, is all. Batman wanted to see how all of you worked together during a crisis threat without us interfering." Jor spoke up, helping Kal to his feet and clapping him on the back. Roy simply nodded at Oliver, a sign of his approval.

"So like... no more of that, right? Cuz I can feel a major headache coming on." Barry whined, his face scrunched in mild pain.

[wombpala]

Please talk more about Soulless Sam. I LOVE how you think about him.

THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME AN EXCUSE.

ok so to preface I think in spn there is always an invisible scoreboard on the corner of the screen that keeps track of who is the coolest guy with the biggest dick in the room and I think that Dean can see this scoreboard and is excruciatingly aware of his position on it every single second of his life and that's why he Acts Like That. and generally Sam is only aware of this scoreboard as like a vague distant sword of damocles hanging over him and making him sweat. so usually Dean in winning (with some notable suggestions). he has sparkle he has flair he understands his own genre and he knows how to play to the camera, always. Sam doesn't.

but then in s6 Dean has lost points and is on a significantly lower rung of the cool guy ladder on account of things like being in a relationship and golfing. already quite vulnerable, narratively. and Soulless Sam just breaks the game. bc he's operating on the hardware that Dean and John instilled in him, he's a Hunter, he working with the Campbells aka supporting his Family (which is the most important thing obviously), he's a sex God incapable of emotional intimacy (male power fantasy), it's a startling power switch bc Dean just cannot be the boss here. Sam wins by not playing. In the first ep when they're reunited and Sam's like dude. were you racing me...? who has the bigger car who has the bigger dick.

there are so many amazing convos they have that season that Sam wins by just refusing to obfuscate. ex. Dean: I don't wanna give the baby to the Campbells bc I don't trust them 😡 sam: so ur saying you don't trust...our family...of hunters.

OWNED. and then how after Dean finds out he immediately casts himself as Sam's externalized conscience/teacher to try to regain some semblance of control over Other Sam.

this is so awesome . Dean's insistence that he is 'driving the bus', deciding oh Sam has forgotten how to be Sam well I will teach him how to pretend until he can be Sam again. right after this he calls Sam a puppet. Dean is his puppeteer, Dean is teaching him how to care. and Sam really does try to imitate Dean's humanity during these eps where they have this fragile truce. like, he's a good student. he's asking questions. 'so you're saying suffering... is good?' 'I'm saying it's the only game in town.' <- 1 of my fav slices of dialogue from them ever!!! I love soulless sam bc he cuts through all Dean's fluff and bravado, and bc he's a perfect reflection of the ideals of masculinity (- the charisma and pure hearted knight of the realm vibe). genuine confusion at the flowery circles that dean talks in, (I thought you wanted me to be honest!), the way dean never says exactly what he means, soulless sam strips dean of pretense just by existing, next to him all dean’s bravado and soaring bombastic overtures fall flat and sad. soulless Sam demystifies.

also I do find it so funny and interesting how Dean telling Sam he can't fuck patchouli girl while Dean is kidnapped is ultimately what makes Sam decide he's not into the whole soul thing. like ok Dean is like you can't be fucking patchouli girl bc you're supposed to be worrying abt me and Sam str8 up asks him ok sensei are you saying that soul= suffering, which is good, and Dean is like well kind of yes, and Sam is like. Oh. Well that sounds like maybe it sucks.

like if everyone was telling you we hate you the way you are so we're gonna put some horrible dirty abused thing inside you, this immaterial substance that contains the memory of your century long rape, and that will make you good again. wouldn't you be like wtf no don't do that. The language they use around returning Sam's soul is violent. In caged heat (or as I like to call it the episode that is most explicitly abt rape in a season that is already full of sexual assault) Cas describes it as "forcing that mutilated thing down his gullet"

trying to kill Bobby isn't the action of a robot or a callous hyper-practical Dexter. Sam believes he is fighting for the right to exist. but he's monstrous and he breaks the rules of the story so obviously he's got to go. and cutting off monstrous pieces of himself/ being cut up into little archetypal categories is like Sam's whole deal so soulless sam is just that theme reiterated and writ large. Sam gothic double/changelingism is a whole other post and this is getting long but suffice to say that 1 thing about Sam is that there is 2 of him.

[samuraionyourmom]

Recently rewatched a playthrough of Sucker for Love (if you don't know what that is, it's a very fun and silly game about dating Eldritch/Cthulu-like gods. I highly recommend checking it out, the writing is excellent.) Anyway, it got me thinking about soukoku, as all things do. Basically, Dazai as the character you play as in the game and Chuuya as one of the gods with some alterations.

So, Dazai. He gets into the Eldritch stuff purely out of boredom. There's nothing in this world for him live for, so why not try searching for it in something beyond this world? He has the money and the time, so why not. He gets the books, the robes, and everything else he can find that relates to it. He doesn't necessarily believe in it, but it's something else to do besides throwing himself in a river. Eventually, he accidentally ends up summoning Arahabaki, the God of Calamity, Harbinger of Chaos and Destruction, aka Chuuya.

And immediately Dazai thinks he's the hottest thing in the world. It's just funniest thing to me to imagine their interactions being like:

Chuuya: Who dares disturb my slumber? You have brought about the very end of mankind and reality as you know it! Tremble before me as-

Dazai: You're hot.

Chuuya: HAH?!

Chuuya is completely caught off guard by this human's strange infatuation with him. He is the very essence of destruction, the end of all things, calamity incarnate. He is literally going to destroy the world. And yet, Dazai seems unbothered by this. In fact, he seems to be intrigued by Chuuya's cosmic power instead of afraid like he should be. He is down horrendously bad for a being he can't even begin to comprehend, and he loves it.