#and everything is kind of nightmare right now

[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x Reader)

All Chapters List

Chapter 13: The Missing (+18 Smut MDNI)

I made this picture on psd lol lemme know if you liked it :)

“Amor gignit amorem.”

Love begets love.

Blood. All you could see was blood. It was all over the place. The mountains, the trees, the rocks, even the waterfall cascading ahead – everything was bathed in a crimson hue, covered in blood. The smell of blood filled the air as if it had obliterated all other odors. You tried to run away from this ominous place, but you realized that your feet were stuck in red mud like a swamp. The more you moved, the deeper you sank. You screamed for help, but no one heard, no one came. When you were up to your neck in the mud, you gasped for breath and screamed for the last time before the red mud swallowed you.

“Aurelia?”

The voice you knew so well echoed in your ears and then around you. The voice made mud disperse, allowing you to resume breathing.

"Aurelia?" He called out again, and you opened your eyes.

Marcus's face, beautiful in its own way, was right before you. Once you realized that he was looking at you with his brown eyes, the effect of the nightmare you had seen turned to dust and scattered around and disappeared. Marcus pressed his fingers on your forehead. Were you sweating?

“My love? Are you alright?”

“I am. I think I had a nightmare.”

“I think so too.” He sounded a bit concerned. "Would you like to tell me?"

You shook your head, looking away. Marcus exhaled deeply. "Aurelia, my love, I want you to forget the story I shared about the first man I killed. It's not the same as what you did. You were simply protecting yourself. You didn't have a choice and you did the right thing. However, the man I killed, he was innocent. I was following orders, but that's no excuse. You do understand what I'm saying, do you not?”

He propped himself up on his elbow to get a better look at your face, cupping your chin and turning your face to his. He was dressed in a cream tunic, the moonlight filtering gently through the window behind him and falling on his shoulders and hair.

“I understand and I appreciate that, but it doesn't change the fact that I killed someone."

He took your hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed the top of it. “I'm glad you did it. You saved me and you. Or should I say all three of us?” He put his hand on your belly.

You smiled; it was a relief to hear him saying that.

You were momentarily taken aback to realize you were still in your room in Domus Severiana. When did you arrive? Did you sleep until nightfall? Your memory was hazy. The last thing you remember is killing someone and becoming a murderer.

"What are you thinking about now?" he asked, looking at you. His hair was bathed in the blue moonlight, however you were focused on the cut on his cheek.

“Why are we here?”

"You mean, you don't remember?"

You shook your head.

"Hmm, after... Well, we arrived here. You were a bit tired and looked like you needed a bath, we both were." He smirked.

Right, you both looked pretty clean compared to what you recalled from the last time. That's when you suddenly remembered how he'd undressed you and put you in the bath tube, how he cleaned you up until your body was free of blood and dirt. Then how he carefully dried you, carried you to your room and put you to bed. And how he stayed with you until you fell asleep. But that was it – you didn't remember anything else. So he probably had his own bath afterward. You felt annoyed with yourself for not being able to help him with his bathing and dressing.

“I remember now,” you murmured.

“Are you sure you are alright?” His hand stroked your belly. He was asking about both of you.

You put your hand on his and smiled. “Your son must be as much of a fighter as you are. He's still holding on tight.”

He smiled and kissed you on the belly. “For a moment, I thought I'd lost you two. It was far worse than any kind of torture.”

You put your arms around his neck. "You saved me, you came back to me, and I'm truly grateful for that."

"You saved me too, don't forget that princess. I'm proud of you for using your knife effectually."

You tensed up a little as you remembered that moment. Marcus noticed it straight away and kissed your temple. "There's no need to feel guilty about that. I know it won't be easy, but I'm confident you'll get through this. Do you wish me to tell you how I know?"

You nodded.

"Because you're my Aurelia. You're strong enough to overcome anything, yet you're tender enough to think of everyone you care about."

He pressed his lips to yours. You realised how much you missed his kiss, his voice, his smell, his touch, his sweet words, everything. When he pulled back, you felt your heart ached.

"Why don't you try to get some more sleep? You must be feeling tired." He covered you with the sheet, turned towards you and cuddled up to you, putting his arm around you. You turned your head and noticed that his eyes were closed. You pursed your lips. You weren't tired, you just needed him. However, he must have been quite tired, so you closed your eyes and tried to sleep. But it didn't work. Your body was already burning up. The sweet masculine smell of his skin made things even more difficult. You felt your throat go dry. So you turned towards him. But this caused your breasts to brush against his arm. He opened his eyes and pulled his arm back. You felt your face flush, and you turned the other way. You smiled to yourself, pleased that you'd managed to seduce him without meaning to.

“Aurelia, that's worse.” He whispered.

You soon figured out what he was talking about. You could feel him growing just behind your hips.

"Apologies." You murmured. You moved yourself on the bed a little, trying to break the physical connection between you. But his strong arm grabbed you and pulled you towards him almost roughly. Your back hits his chest. You could hear him breathing heavily, his hot breath hitting your cheek. You giggled mischievously.

"You only had to ask," he said huskily. You gasped as you felt his lips on your neck.

"I thought you wouldn't want to, seeing as you're tired.”

He turned you towards him, in a fairly forceful manner, “Do you really think that's possible my lady?” He shook his head slightly. “I don't think so.” His lips almost touching yours, you've been craving a kiss from him. “Not when I've been thinking about you all the time, not when I've been looking forward to this moment badly.” And then finally he kissed you passionately. Gods! You’d really missed his kiss. It wasn't just him who'd been looking forward to this moment.

His hands, eager as usual, grabbed the end of your tunic and slid it up your legs, helping you out of it. You smiled when you felt his hands on your exposed skin. You bit your lower lip as his lips replaced his hands. You were getting impatient; your body was burning, as if on fire, and your breathing had turned into hot steam. As he planted kisses on your knees before spreading them, you resisted him, trying to make it fun.

He snickered. "Why are you hiding from me what is already mine? Wish to play?" He lifted your legs against your stomach with his strong hands. You were taken by surprise and felt out of breath. He ran his fingers and then his lips over it, from heel to thigh, as if memorizing it, first one leg and then the other. He was careful not to leave any part of your skin untouched, but he did it so slowly that you were sure you were dripping wet by now. It might have been romantic or seductive at first, but it was getting to be too much and your patience was running out. It was good when he was gentle, but it was better when he was rough. He must have heard your inner voice, grabbed you by the legs, pulling you hard against him. You held your breath as he lifted your legs, placed them on his shoulders, and buried his head between them. Fortunately, he was no longer gentle when he used his tongue to enter you and give you unbelievable pleasure. You clenched the sheet as he licked and sucked your most sensitive spot mercilessly like a starving man. He continued his pattern, teased you until you thought you might go mad, breaking it occasionally to suck at your sweet spot or nibble at the folds of you. Meanwhile, he ventured his tongue within you, each time probing a little deeper, until finally he slid as much of it into you as he could and you could not help but cry out at the feeling of it swirling inside of you. Soon, the moans he’s coaxing out of you are only got louder and louder and you lifted your hips up to meet his mouth, your toes curling. Marcus squeezed your hips and increased the pressure of his mouth, tongue, and lips, taking you to the very top of the sky as your loud moans filled every cavity of the large room. Your vision was blurred, your heart racing.

It’s at this moment that he pulled back completely, leaving only the warm air touching you, and you let out a mortifying groan which turned into mewling. Marcus laughed at you and you opened your eyes to see his mouth and chin are covered with your wetness. He kissed you deeply, pushing what he could of it between your lips with his tongue. "You're the most delicious thing I've ever tasted," he whispered into your mouth. "A splendid dessert just for me to taste." You licked his bottom lip, tasting yourself, realizing that he was right. He kissed you again and this time with more passion quickly turning into a feverish lust.

You reached out to touch his tunic, but his consuming kiss was so intense that you failed. He smiled, his warm breath touching your cheek. Then he smirked, spread his arms wide and told you to undress him without speaking. Giggling, you got up on your knees and did as he said, running your hands over his shoulders after throwing his tunic gods-know-where. You frowned as you noticed the new scars on his body, he watched you patiently as your fingers travelled over each one. He put a finger in your temple, then over your eyebrows as if to smooth out your frown and slid it through your hair, running it through it as if combing it.

"You're the only one who can heal,” he murmured. Then he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you towards him. He held you tight, making sure there was no gap between you. You smiled as you realised he was getting impatient between your inner thighs. His glorious length was caressing your entrance and your body already squirming to be his. Thinking he was going to lay you back down, instead, he grabbed your hips and fell backward, pulling you on top of him. Now you were sitting on him, you looked down at him in surprise, and he grinned.

He licked his lips. “Ride me.”

Biting your lower lip with excitement, you placed your hands on his chest, rotated your hips and settled on top of him, slowly taking his length into you. He gripped your hips and guided you into the right position. When you felt him deep inside you let out a moan of pleasure and leaned into him. Your hair was falling in his face, and you teased him with it by shaking your head covering his face completely with your hair. He smirked and gathered your hair and put it over one shoulder as you rode him in slow movements. Then he started to speed up his thrusts by moving his groin. You were completely like impaled on him and it felt like absolute bliss and you never wanted this feeling to end. You leaned in to kiss him feeling the overwhelming pleasure was pushing you dangerously close to the edge. He was grasping and kneading your breasts in a strong and possessive way with both of his big hands as he kissed you passionately and rubbed his thumbs over your nipples. He grabbed your hips in a bruising grip and squeezes as he thrusts into you so hard and powerfully that you scream out loud in shock, like he's some kind of beast and he's almost making you beg desperately for more. He moaned and growled through clenched teeth as he marked you and claimed you and made you his. Your heart was beating so fast that you felt like it was going to burst. You pressed your lips together to suppress your upcoming scream but failed. Everyone in the palace would hear your moans and know what you were doing, but it didn't matter right now.

Marcus hit your sweet spot with each glorious thrust and soon you began to feel your soul leaving your body and your surroundings became hazy and blurry and white lights began to appear, you cried out as the most intense emotion erupted from every nerve in your body and you felt you were flying, weightless and free, the feeling of pure pleasure racing through every part of you. His moans and grunts became muffled as the pleasure overtook you. He pulled you hard against his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around you and you felt him fill you up with his hot liquid, his thrusts stuttering. You were resting your head on his chest while he buried his face in your hair. You stayed like that for a while until your breathing calmed down. Marcus loosened his grip around your body and you felt his lips on the top of your head as his hands travelled slowly down your back. You could hear the sound of his heart thudding against his chest, it soon settled and you felt him soften inside you. He grabbed you round the waist and slid you onto the bed and you snuggled into him. He lifted the sheet and covered both of you, wrapping one arm around you and thus ensuring your usual ritual of falling asleep peacefully.

The morning sun was filtering through your eyelashes, casting a yellow light over your face as you blinked sleepily. Opening your eyes, the first thing you saw was Marcus' beard, his chin, and his lips. Those wonderful lips you couldn't get enough of kissing. His eyes were still closed, his sweet breath caressing your forehead as you watched him sleeping. He was so incredible, so beautiful. You felt a little upset when you saw the new scar on his cheek though, but it wouldn't prevent the perfection of his face. It made you love him even more. It was impossible to describe how much you love him, but "eternity" was probably the closest description.

Just yesterday you hated this big room, but now that he was lying next to you, in your bed, the room didn't seem so bad to you anymore. With his presence, the room had become a safer, more beautiful, and more significant place. After a few moments, you found yourself drawn to his face once more and felt the urge to kiss him. You softly pressed your lips to his. You then pulled back and saw his lips curled into a smile, opening his eyes. His brown eyes were as dark and expressive at night as they were buttery and warm in the morning. They were enough to blow your mind every time.

"Morning," you said softly.

"What a lovely morning this is," he said with a smile, running his hand through your hair.

"It certainly is," you smiled back.

He leaned over and kissed you. His kiss was gentle and passionate. But you were ready for him to kiss you deeper. He slowed his kiss but you tightened your arm around his neck. He laughed between his lips and pulled back, you frowned. He laughed even more at your reaction.

“My lady, I love it when you're eager, but don't you think you should get a little more rest?”

You blushed, batting your eyelashes. "I've really missed you."

“Same here,” he said, placing his hand on your belly and stroking it softly. "Is it alright for the child if we make love this often?"

"He's fine, I'd know if there was anything wrong." You replied. You then grasped his hand, placing it on your thigh. "I need you, Marcus, please."

He smirked. "I think I've raised my wife to be as lustful as I am." He chuckled.

You giggled naughtily. He kissed you roughly this time. Your heart began to beat with excitement. He squeezed your thighs and pulled you closer to him. Since you were already naked, the process didn't take long and he quickly lifted the sheet covering your body and settled on top of you. You had already spread your legs for him. His lips moved to your neck, collarbone and sternum, sucking and licking as he made his way down your body. As you ran your fingers through his hair, you felt him get harder at your entrance. He grabbed your hips again with one hand and entered you easily giving you incredible pleasure. His other hand travelled over every possible part of your flesh. You held your breath as he ran his hot tongue over your breasts. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him deeper into you, and he let out a loud moan.

"So needy," he said, his voice low and husky, his breath hot on your nipples. He kept nibbling on your breasts, sucking them with a growing appetite. As you began to feel like you were almost losing your mind, his lips met yours again and turned into a hungry, thirsty kiss. His thrusts fastened and you let out little moans of sweet pleasure as you dug your fingers into his flesh. He broke the kiss to push a few strands of hair away from your face. His intense gaze held yours captive while making you his. Soon he wrapped his hands around you and buried his head into your collarbone. His thrusts deepened, and he increased the pace at an incredible speed. Your back instinctively arched, but his grip was so tight that it was impossible to move. Your loud moans filled the room, and the satisfying sound of your bodies slapping together echoed in.

You screamed his name over and over, he let out a great roar and reached his climax at the same time as you. His lips sucked and nibbled your chin as he slowing his thrusts. You closed your eyes tight, bit your lip hard, curled your toes as you savoured the last moments of the amazing pleasure you were feeling. He released his grip on you and kissed the areas of your skin that had become reddened with great tenderness. You were still breathing heavily and had your eyes closed. Marcus placed his hand between your breasts and was surprised to feel your heart beating fast under his palm.

“My love, are you alright?”

You inhaled slowly and deeply through your nose and then exhaled. “My breathing... has become... much quicker now... It takes me a bit longer to settle.” You panted.

He gave you a kiss on the forehead and pulled out of you, wrapping his arms around you to embrace you close to his chest.

"I should have been more gentle with you," he said, running his fingers through your hair. "I couldn't control myself. Forgive me."

Your throat felt a little dry, so you took a moment to wet it and swallow. "There's nothing to forgive, my love, you are wonderful."

A faint smile appeared on his face.

Suddenly there was the sound of drums, which startled you. Marcus sighed. It would seem that this was an announcement of Caracalla's passing and details of the funeral arrangements. 

“I am the one who killed him,” Marcus said, looking you in the eye.

You nodded. "You did the right thing. I was almost losing you because of him. He tried to take everything from us."

"In a way, he kind of succeeded."

"How do you mean?"

"Villa," he muttered. You felt your chest tighten. Marcus stroked your cheek. "Cato said it was plundered and the slaves were taken which means they must be detained."

"Where could they be?"

"I have a few guesses. We'll find them, but first I must find Geta. Before the funeral-"

"How do you mean you have to find him? Is he missing?" Your voice was louder than you wanted it to be.

"Yesterday, I had entrusted three of my men to protect him. They arrived in the evening. They were certain it was Macrinus. They said: His men intercepted Geta's carriage and attempted to kill him. There was a skirmish between them and one of my men took him into the alleys to protect him, and probably died while doing it so. However, nobody saw Geta die. He is nowhere to be seen though.”

"Gods! Where could he be?”

"That's what I need to find out," he said, kissing the top of your head and getting out of bed. He then put on his tunic. "There may be some concern if the people don't see him at Caracalla's funeral, and if Macrinus is able to convince the senate, which is a possibility. He would then proclaim himself emperor." He turned to look at your concerned face. He sat on the bed, stroking your cheek. You let out a soft moan when you felt pain where he pressed his thumb. Your face was probably bruised where Flavius had hit you before. His eyes were filled with anger. "I should have chopped that bastard's hands and body into pieces." He hissed.

“I'll be alright. You simply find my brother, please."

“I will, I have to.” He was stroking your bruise carefully. “I know you care about him.”

You measured his gaze, “He's my brother, and it seems he's the only one left.”

“I’m aware, but the thing is, I’m not sure if he sees you as his sister.” His gaze had changed. Could it be jealousy?

“Marcus," you objected.

“It's tough for me, sharing you with someone else, even if he's your brother. As if that wasn't enough, there's a man's look in the way he looks at you, which is really frustrating for me.” His voice was sharp.

You took his hand and looked him in the eye. "Marcus, I love you and I am yours. Nothing or no one could ever change that, never."

"I know that my love. If he is still breathing, that is the reason.”

You exhaled, and he gave a faint smile in return. "Anyway, my lady. I must take my leave now." He kissed your cheek and stood up.

"Where's your armour?" you asked, standing up after him.

"It needed to be clean, the slaves were looking after it." He said, holding the door handle, he then eyed you up and down. "What are you doing?"

You looked at your stola in your hand, trying to understand his question. "I am getting dressed to come with you." You replied.

"No, Aurelia, you are not coming with me. I want you to stay in the room and rest," he said in a commanding tone.

You put on your tunic in a somewhat stubborn manner. "Please don't ask me to stay in the room. I was locked in here for days, as I'm sure you're aware."

"If you're going to be safe, it's better that way," he said firmly.

You laughed hysterically while you were wearing your stola. "Forgive me, General, but there is no way I am staying in this room in your absence."

Marcus sighed deeply. "Why are you so stubborn?”

"Please, at least let me go downstairs. The slave girl saved my life yesterday, I really must go and see her."

While you were putting on one of your sandals, you noticed he had fallen silent. He then stepped towards you and bent down in front of you. He was tying the laces of your sandal. "I am truly sorry, my lady," he murmured. You touched his shoulder to stop him.

"Or the girl..." The words got stuck in your throat.

Marcus paused then quickly tied the other sandal laces and sat down beside you, wrapping his arms around you. You couldn't stop the tears, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Many lost their lives, including my soldiers. They were like brothers to me and I lost them. All because of Flavius and Caracalla. I take some solace in the fact that they are no longer alive. Macrinus is next," he said in a stern tone.

"Marcus, what about our family? I can't lose them too."

"We won't. I'll look for them once I find Geta. I'll find them, I promise."

"Let me come with you, please."

He frowned. "Aurelia." His tone indicated that the matter was not up for discussion.

You twisted your lips. "Then don't prevent me from leaving this room." You touched his arm. "Besides, this wound doesn't look good, I should make a herbal mixture. It could get infected.”

"Alright then, but I'm leaving Cato here to look after you. I don't trust anyone else. Not with Macrinus still out there."

You smiled. “Understood, General.”

He smirked, kissed your cheek, and held out his hand to you. "My lady.”

As you walked into the courtyard, you saw Octavius and two other soldiers.  They noticed you and nodded.

"Tell me where Cato is at once." Marcus said to Octavius.

"He's resting, sir. His wound seems deep."

You touched Marcus' arm. "Let me examine his wound," you demanded.

"I believe the palace medicus would have attended to his wound, wouldn't he, Octavius?" Marcus asked, turning to him, awaiting an answer.

"I have learned that Emperor Caracalla had the medicus killed, sir.”

You and Marcus exchanged glances. Even though Caracalla was now dead, he had left behind some unfortunate memories, some of which were irredeemably awful.

"Octavius, I need you to stay here and ensure the safety of Lady Aurelia," Marcus said.

"As you say, sir." Octavius nodded.

Then he turned to the others. "Aris, Felix, you two come with me. We need to find Emperor Geta at once."

"Yes, sir." They both said.

"So you two are here!"

You all turned your heads towards her.

"Can you tell me where my son is, General Acacius? What are you doing here instead of finding him?" Julia asked in a defiant tone.

Right. Now his mad son had finally died, she was free too. You refused to meet her gaze. Marcus too, ignored her and turned to you. "My lady, I need to leave now. Octavius will stay here with you. Please be safe.”

"Do not worry about me, you just find him. I will be waiting for your return." You said with a smile.

"Can't you hear me? I asked you a question!”

Marcus turned to her. ‘'Lady Domna, if you don't mind, I was just about to take my leave," he said in a kind but firm tone. He than gestured for his men to step forward. He looked at you one last time before leaving the courtyard, then looked meaningfully at Octavius, who nodded. Octavius then approached you. From the way he moved and his protective demeanour, you came to know why he and Marcus had exchanged glances.

You ignored Julia's angry glare. "Octavius, take me to Cato, please."

"This way, my lady," he said, pointing ahead.

"Aurelia, where are you going? There will be members of the Senate and their wives coming to pay their respects today. Shouldn't you stay with me?"

You paused, taking a deep breath before speaking. "You're speaking as if you're my mother, Lady Domna."

"I may not be your mother but Caracalla was your brother."

"If you hadn't asked me to kill him weeks ago, I'd thought that you were in mourning right now."

"How dare you? Of course I am!" Julia's voice was loud, but when she realised Octavius was tense, she decided to lower it. "No one loved my son more than me. Whatever I have done was for him. You'll understand when you have a child of your own.”

You sighed. "I don't need your advice nor your lies. You can save them for your guests. Now, if you will excuse me, I have someone to heal." You said in a warning tone. Then you turned on your heel and left the courtyard with Octavius following you behind.

Upon Marcus's arrival with Felix and Aris at the location where Geta was last known to be, it was the hour when the streets of Rome would typically be at their most active. However, a period of mourning had been declared until the funeral, resulting in a notable absence of activity on the streets. Marcus dismounted and conducted a detailed examination of the tracks on the ground, checking every corner and stone in the hope of discovering even the slightest trace.

When he was unable to find any, he ordered his men to spread out and survey the area. He was himself engaged in searching the surrounding area. After walking for a few streets, he had the feeling that he was being watched. He soon found the person who was watching him. However, he did not reveal this to the man. The man was dressed in ordinary attire, wearing a black cloak over it. Marcus entered the courtyard of a house and waited nearby, near the wall near the entrance. As soon as the man stepped through there, as he had planned, he grabbed him and put his pugio to his throat.

“Who the hell are you? Speak!” he barked.

However, the man did not speak, he struggled, but Marcus was stronger and would not let him go. Before long, though, he pulled out a dagger with his free hand and lunged at him. Marcus saw this and grabbed his hand and pushed him hard. The man stumbled and before he could recover, Marcus had already drawn his sword. Since he didn't have a sword, the man was clearly frightened and took a few steps back before running out of the courtyard. Marcus smiled and then gave chase. He followed at a relaxed pace, curious about where he was going. But soon man started to run faster so did Marcus. After chasing him for a few streets, Felix saw them from a distance and ran over to the man and jumped on him. By the time Marcus got there, the man was already on the ground.

"Well catch, brother," Marcus said with a grin. Felix grabbed the man's hands and held them behind his back. The man tried to break free but couldn’t.

"Sir, I also had someone following me, but I couldn't catch him."

Marcus frowned. Were there more men? He looked at the man with a stern gaze.

"Whose man are you? Speak or I'll make sure you never can," Marcus said in a sharp tone, pointing his sword at the man.

The man refused to speak. He was certain that he must be Macrinus' man. A short while later, someone called out to Marcus, addressing him by his title. It was Aris, running towards them, followed by several men, all dressed similarly to the man they had captured. A few more men came from up and down the street, and they formed a circle around them. Marcus put his sharp sword to the throat of the man they had caught. They were outnumbered by eight.  One of them who Marcus figured must be their leader, took a few steps forward.

"Release my man now, General Acacius!"

"Tell us who you are and why you were following us, first.”

The man raised his arms in a friendly manner. "We're on the same side, General. There's no need for all this."

Marcus raised his eyebrows in surprise. "On the same side, you say? Which side is that I wonder? Speak at once!"

"We are also searching for Emperor Geta, as you are. However, Macrinus' men are present in many places."

"So you're saying you're not one of them?"

The man laughed. "No, of course not. I am Lexus, from Leptis Magna, and so are my brothers here. We heard that our elders, our relatives, had been murdered by Caracalla. So we came to Rome on a letter from Lady Domna. We have been keeping an eye on things for some time now."

Marcus narrowed his eyes. "So you're the one who provided her with the poison that drove Caracalla mad, were you?”

The man gave a grin. "You're pretty clever for a soldier, General. I'll give you that. Well, Caracalla was already out of control, so we had to find a way to bring him down. You see, we had to do this because if he was declared a tyrant, all his decisions would be invalidated. However, it is you who killed him, so we must say thank you for that." The man bowed his head. Marcus released the man he had captured. The man ran to his friends.

Now everything was clear. Julia had been planning this since her return maybe even before.

"I assure you that no harm will come to you or your wife, Princess Aurelia. Our only desire is to find Emperor Geta at once.”

Marcus looked at him with a sharp gaze when he mentioned your name. You wouldn't dare harm her anyway, he thought. "If you were monitoring the situation from afar, why didn't you find Emperor Geta by now?"

The man let out a deep sigh. "Macrinus and the commander of the guards were making it difficult. We've lost two of our brothers since we arrived, because of them. Anyway, we will kill the commander and then him. We are simply seeking an opportunity."

"The commander is dead, as for Macrinus," Marcus sheathed his sword with a sharp noise. "I will kill him eventually, but now I must find Emperor Geta, so you'd better stay out of my way while I do so.”

Marcus gave the order to his men to follow him, and they did so without question. The others looked at their leader, who gave them a firm nod to let them go. As Marcus strode away from them and down the street, he saw a boy watching them from the corner of a wall.  The boy immediately turned and ran away as soon as he realised he had been spotted.

"Aris, catch that child!" Marcus commanded. Aris did not hesitate and ran towards him. Marcus and Felix strode purposefully towards them, their footsteps echoing in the stillness. A shrill scream rang out. And when they turned the corner, they saw Aris had caught the boy. He was holding the child with one hand and a very familiar object with the other.

“Sir, I found this on this little rascal!”

It was the bronze crown that belonged to Geta. Marcus ran towards him and took the crown from his hand.

"I did not steal it sir! He gave it to me, I swear, to all the gods!" the boy cried.

Aris shook him, "Don't lie, you little brat! Tell me, where is the owner of the crown?"

Marcus commanded, "Aris, put the boy down."

"But sir-"

"I told you to put him down." His tone was stern. Aris nodded and obeyed. Marcus approached the boy, crouched down to his level, touching his shoulder. "Who gave you this boy? Tell me. We won't hurt you, I promise."

Soon, they heard footsteps and another boy ran towards them. He was older than the other.

"You stupid! I told you!" He shouted at the little boy. Then he looked at them. His eyes widened as he noticed Marcus. "Or, are you General Acacius, sir?”

Marcus stood and smiled at him. "That's right young man, I am General Acacius. But how did you recognise me?"

"Sir, I recognised you by the armour you are wearing, an armour embroidered in gold with the great Medusa on your chest!" he said excitedly, pointing to his armour. Just like in the murals! But the real one is certainly better! Right?" He asked the little boy with a smile.

He clapped his hands excitedly. “Yes! Yes, indeed!"

Marcus smiled at them. "Well, nice to meet you then. Now, can you tell me where you found this crown? I suppose you know who it belongs to, don't you?"

The children looked at each other and then back at Marcus. "He gave it to us himself, but I warned my brother that we should head together. But he did not listen! He always does it to upset me!”

“Slow down boy, slow down.” Marcus touched his shoulder. “Emperor Geta. Did he really give it to you?”

The boy nodded.

“Then where is he? And where were you heading?”

"The Emperor Geta has entrusted us with his crown in case they don't believe us. We were on our way to the Palatine Hill."

"I see now," Marcus said. "You don't have to do that anymore. You just take us to him now, we need to get him home safely, you know what I mean, don't you?" He rubbed the boy's head.

"Yes sir!" He shouted, standing at attention like a soldier.

Marcus smiled. "Good boy.”

When Marcus arrived at the place where the children had brought them, he was astounded. This was the poorhouse. The place you frequented and told him about. However, the place had clearly been refurbished. It no longer looked as shabby as it used to. The children noticed them and ran towards them. They examined his armour closely, their eyes filled with curiosity. Marcus smiled at them, recalling your words about this place. The children were well-fed and now wore proper clothes. He soon recognised Geta by his blond hair. He was sitting at a table with his back turned, next to him was an old woman. She was handing him a bowl of food.

"I'm not eating this, you old hag! Not in this life or the next! Don't you dare force me, or I'll throw up on you like a fountain!”

The woman noticed Marcus who was approaching them. Geta turned his head and his eyes widened. He leapt to his feet. "Acacius!" He shouted with a big smile spreading across his face. But then his smile faded instantly. "Acacius, why in the name of the Gods are you so late!"

"I apologize for the late arrival, Your Highness. Have you been here the whole time?”

"Yes, unfortunately I spent a night in this filthy place. Can you believe it? It's absolutely horrible!" His eyes met those of the people around him, who had heard him but not seem to care.

"My men informed me that there was a fight and the man who was protecting you was murdered. They looked for you afterwards but couldn't find you anywhere."

“Your man protected me until his last breath. After that, I ran into the alleys, but then I stumbled and fell, hitting my damn head on a stone." He pointed to his head, indicating the small wound in the corner of his forehead. "The children told me they brought me here. I opened my eyes and was in a daze. You can not even imagine the shock I had when I saw these brats around me!"

Marcus smirked. "Those brats saved your life. Good thing you're alive. We've been looking for you."

"This is yours, Your Majesty," Aris said as he handed the crown to Geta.

Geta took it and placed it on his head. “Well, we must leave then, I don't want to stay here any longer.” He came over to Marcus, bouncing a bit, clearly in pain. He then put his hand on his shoulder, Marcus sighed but helped him to walk.

"I shall have a very good bath when I get home.”

In Marcus' absence, you spent the day tending to Cato's and Octavius' wounds and preparing herbal ointment for Marcus too. People, including senators and their wives, kept coming by to offer their condolences until dark. Caracalla's body was laid down in the middle of the great hall, open-faced. A white cloth with a gold pattern embroidered around the edges was covering him up to his neck. The priestesses kept on chanting the liturgy next to him, almost without a break, until evening. As Julia greeted the people who came to pay their respects with an incredibly forced expression, you wondered how she managed it. She must have done it many times before; she was like an expert. It was as if she was not the one who wanted to kill him weeks ago. Everyone who came asked about Geta and where he was, and Julia always had an answer ready. Standing with them in the great hall, you hoped Marcus would return with Geta soon. Near dusk, you almost fainted listening to the endless guests and their long speeches. You excused yourself and left the great hall, walking to the other courtyard. It was quieter here, the nausea seemed to have passed for a few days, but your body was weak from all the tension you had been under lately.

You sat on the lectus in the courtyard and put your feet up to relax. You thought about calling out Decima, but she wasn't there anymore. All of a sudden, you felt a bit down, wondering where they were now and what they were up to. You let out a little sigh and leaned your head back. You soon heard footsteps approaching.

"My Lady." A deep, masculine, velvety voice addressed you.

You immediately opened your eyes and turned your head to look at him.

"You're here," you said, your face brightening with a smile. You were just about to slide your legs down but Marcus walked over, grabbed your legs and sat down next to you, resting your legs on his lap. He had a warm smile on his face.

"Or my lovely princess had a rather tiring day?" His hand gently caressed your legs.

"Just a little." You replied with a smile.

"Nothing to trouble you, I hope?" His gaze turned serious.

"Not really, it's just people coming to pay their respects. Some of them were rather garrulous. If you imagine what I mean." You said with a whispering gesture, putting your hand near your mouth.

Marcus laughed. "I afraid I can imagine, yes. Anyway, I returned with good news.’’

"Or did you find him?"

Marcus nodded and smiled.

“Thank the gods,” you said with relief. Then you put your feet down to embrace him. His large hands gently caressed your back, and you felt his lips brushing against your hair.

He took a deep breath, inhaling your scent. “I've only been away from you for a short time, yet I miss you so much.”

You pulled your head back and looked at him. His eyes took over yours with all their seductiveness. He leaned down to kiss you. But before your lips even met, a familiar voice interrupted you.

“Sister!” Geta's voice rang through the courtyard walls. Julia called after him as he approached you with a big smile on his face, ignoring his mother.

You turned your head towards his voice, tried to pull back to stand up, but Marcus' strong arms wouldn't let you. You looked at him, he seemed a bit unsure, but then his arms loosened their grip. As soon as you stood up, Geta came over and gave you a big hug. "Ugh! I've missed you so much! You wouldn't believe what's happened to me!" Marcus seemed annoyed. Julia crossed her arms.

"I have missed you too brother." You murmured.

Geta stepped back to look at you, then frowned. "Gods! What happened to your face?" 

Marcus tensed and stood up when Geta took your face in his hands. You were aware of Marcus's nervousness, of course. You gave Geta's hands a little push away. "It's nothing serious. I've already made some ointment, and if I keep applying it I'm sure it will heal in a few days."

There was a wound on the side of his forehead. You also observed that he was staggering slightly. "What about you?"

Geta just threw himself on the lectus where you were sitting a few moments ago. "I fell. I was very nearly murdered by that cunt Macrinus and his rats.”

"You shouldn't be seen like this," Julia whined, looking at him. "You should bathe and then dress appropriately for the funeral."

Geta sighed. "I agree about the bath, but afterwards I want to sleep with no dress on!"

"There are still guests coming-"

"I do not care! I'm not interested in their fake faces and tears! I need to rest." He then looked at you. "Aurelia, Acacius, join me for dinner, would you?”

“This must be a joke! It is simply not acceptable to enjoy a dinner in the house of mourning! People will gossip until eternity!" Julia yelled.

Marcus took your hand and looked at Geta. "Lady Domna is right, Your Majesty. I will have them bring your dinner to your room after your bath. It would be more appropriate if Lady Aurelia and I retired to our room now. It has been a tiring day for us all."

Geta pursed her lips. "Acacius, I would have chastised you if you hadn't come to rescue me from that awful place. However, you have every right to ask for rest. You may leave now.”

Marcus gave a nod and turned to take his leave, pulling you along with him.

“Good night sister! Rest well!” Geta said loudly after you.

“And you as well!” You waved at him.

As you made your way out of the courtyard and towards the stairs, Marcus let out a quiet sigh. "I am looking forward to returning to our villa," he said. "It might need some repairs first." He stopped at the first step of the stairs and looked at you. "We could stay here for a little longer if you wish, until I find them."

You smiled. "Now that you've found Geta, we will reunite our family."

He moved your hand, which he was holding, to his lips and kissed it. "We will, my love.”

Once you had finished your evening meal, which was brought to your room, you applied the ointment you had prepared for Marcus to his arm. You approached the table to put the bowl down, while Marcus opened the drawer of the other small table.

"My Lady, I believe I have something that belongs to you," he said. He was holding the bracelet you dropped last time when you running away from Flavius. 

"Marcus, you found it! But how?" You smiled cheerfully.

He reached for your arm and placed the bracelet on your wrist.  "I consider myself fortunate. Thanks to this bracelet, I was able to reach you in time." He sat on the edge of the bed and sat you on his lap. You put your arm around his neck. "Maybe the gods had mercy." His fingers traced the bruise on your face. His eyes were dark. "Maybe they knew what I would do if something happened to you and they intervened to prevent it, for the sake of Rome."

You could imagine what he was talking about since you had witnessed his furious side. He wrapped his other arm around your waist and kissed you on the face again and again. With each kiss, your heart was beating faster and your throat was feeling dry. As his breathing also became more rapid, lust began to take over your entire body. Marcus pushed back the hair covering your neck and kissed the exposed skin. You instinctively arched your neck back and wrapped your other arm around his neck. With your waist supported by his arm, he gently laid you down on the bed. Your feet were still touching the floor. Marcus bent over you and gave you a passionate kiss on the lips. His tongue tasted of the wine he'd just drunk – sweet and fruity. His moustache and beard tickled your cheeks, making you kiss him even more eagerly. As he deepened the kiss, he grabbed the fabric of the stola you'd tucked into your belt and quickly released you from both. Once you were left in just your tunic, he sat you down on the bed and quickly undressed you, making it very clear that he loved this very much. He took hold of your legs and waist and pulled you towards the middle of the bed. Before long, he was on top of you. His hands, his lips, his movements were as gentle and careful as he promised. It was beautiful in its seductiveness, yes, but it made you even more impatient. A few more touches and your body was already writhing to be his. You tangled your fingers in his hair as Marcus' marvellous tongue circled around your nipples. He snickered as your fingers then gripped the hem of his tunic.

“Impatient, my lady?”

“Very much so,” you said with a giggle.

He laughed and got up on his knees to take off his tunic. His bare chest never failed to amaze you. It was perfect in every sense of the word. After eyeing his torso, you reached for him, grabbed his neck, and pulled him to you.

Your lips met and immediately turned into a hungry kiss. Marcus smiled crookedly as you spread your legs for him without a second thought. He was trying to be as gentle as possible, but you were trying his patience too much. Now he was as impatient as you were. He gripped your hips and slowly entered your now helplessly squirming walls. A loud moan of pleasure escaped your mouth, causing you to break the kiss. This gave Marcus the opportunity to lick and suck your chin. But your mouths met again. And it turned into a kiss so deep you forgot how to breathe. Marcus was in no rush to speed up his thrusts, determined to be gentle this time, until you raised your hips a little and wrapped your legs tightly around him. He let out a deep, masculine sound that was similar to a roar. He broke the kiss and placed his hands on the bed, on either side of you. You thought he was angry but he snickered. "You are driving me mad you know that, do you not?"

"I know," you giggled, biting your lip. "Marcus," you ran your hands over his shoulders. "I see you're trying hard to be gentle, but there's really no need. Our child is fine." Then you placed your hands on his waist. "And I am perfectly fine." You said seductively.

He leaned in and kissed you, then grabbed your hips and pulled back to thrust deeper. "I'm glad you said that because I was just about to bite the bed sheet."

You both giggled. As if he was waiting for your approval desperately he thrust deep again. You were overwhelmed with the incredible pleasure he was giving you.

"I love how stubborn you are, even in bed," he whispered in your ear. "It makes me want you even more."

You were almost climaxing from his words, if not from his glorious thrusts deep inside your walls. He responded to your loud moans with a satisfied smile, and soon he was feeling close to the edge too.

“Marcus!” You cried out his name.

“That's right, my love. Say it louder.” He purred.

“Marcus!” You could have sworn your voice echoed across the Roman skies.

As you rose into the sky in an explosion of pleasure, you desperately but mercilessly dug your fingers into his back. And he lost it. His big fingers gripped your thighs and squeezed them so hard as he reaches his climax. He pressed his face between your breasts until he was breathing regular again. You felt wet, but it wasn't just his forehead that was sweating - your whole body was too. Your heart was beating fast, your breathing was almost wheezing, but Marcus' lips, moving slowly over your collarbone, helped you to calm down. And soon you laughed as your breathing became regular. Marcus laughed too and collapsed next to you. "This was magnificent. It deserves to be at the top of the list. What do you think, princess?" he asked, panting.

You rested your chin on his chest, looking at him curiously.  "I didn't realise you had a list, General."

He ran his hand down your spine. "Not to make comparisons of course, but to track progress. Anyway, this is a bit pointless since we're getting better every time, aren't we?" He winked at you. You blushed, but it must be invisible since your body is red all over. "Maybe it's because you're so wonderful, so full of surprises, my beautiful wife," he kissed the top of your head. You smiled and involuntarily yawned and he laughed in response. "We should get some rest now tomorrow is going to be a bit of a hard day."

"Indeed, we should," you murmured slowly, your eyelids already closing and you soon fell asleep.

He cupped your head in his palm, then carefully placed it on the pillow, then kissed your temple. "Sleep well, my love.”

—-

As the first rays of the morning heralded a new day in the city, it did not appear to evoke a sense of mourning. As the day began, people appeared to be in good spirits, with some even hoping that the period of mourning would soon come to an end and they could return to their daily lives. Nevertheless, it was an emperor who had passed away, and whatever was required for his funeral would be done, even if he had been a flawed ruler.

As was to be expected, preparations for the funeral began at the Domus Severiana at an early hour.Julia was feeling relieved inside although she looked sad and devastated from the outside. She had been sitting beside her son's cold body in the early morning, waiting in her black stola: For her other son to wake up.

It is not known whether Geta had woken up yet, but you had already opened your eyes. Marcus woke up before you and woke you up in the sweetest way; placing soft kisses on your face. It seems that the room you were in was nothing like a room in a house of mourning.

“I wish we'd never got out of bed.” You mumbled something quietly. “I really miss the early days of our marriage.”

Marcus smirked. "Am I mistaken, my lady, or weren’t you a little bored?”

You looked up at him. “Bored? I don't think so! I don't recall anything like that. Besides, I couldn't be bored with you. That's not possible, General.”

“I feel the same way, my lady. I'd love to stay in bed with you forever. But not in this bed for sure.” He frowned.

You giggled. "In our bed back at the villa?”

“Yes, you might want to make a few changes while the repairs are taking place.”

“What could it be?”

“Anything you wish. After all, it'll be three of us in that room soon, don't you think?” He gave you a wink.

“Oh, that's right.” You said with a grin.

"It might even be four or five. Or perhaps we should tear down the room and make it bigger."

It was appealing to picture yourself with so many children, but also a bit daunting. “How are we going to stay in one room with so many children? Besides, we'll never get any alone time too.”

Marcus leaned towards you. “How about a separate secret room for us to be alone, then? A small room where no one can find us?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Hmm, it sounds very romantic.”

He smirked and kissed you.

And then, you heard footsteps just outside the door.

Geta came bursting in. “Are you two still in bed?” 

Marcus quickly pulled the sheet up to your head and buried you in it.

“Gods!” You yelled.

“What do you think you're doing?” Marcus barked.

Geta crossed his arms, looking away. "It's a habit, I suppose. My mind goes back to the old days." He chuckled.

It's really great that you brought up the old days in front of Marcus, brother, you thought. You couldn't see him, but you were certain Marcus was angry.

"I had no idea you two were busy romancing on the day of the funeral," he grumbled, glancing at Marcus’ naked body out of the corner of his eye. But he looked away because he was staring at him menacingly. "Anyway, get dressed at once. The ceremony will start soon."

He left the room quickly but you had no intention of lifting the sheet off your face. You were a little tense about meeting Marcus's angry face. You gripped the sheet tightly.

"The old days?" Marcus asked.

You swallowed.

"He used to barge into your room like this before too?"

You bit your lip.

"Aurelia, I asked you a question." His tone of voice was definitely angry.

You shook your head but you must have looked pretty ridiculous since you were under the sheet. Marcus surpressed his smile and took the sheet to pull it away from your face. You tried to resist, but you were no match for his strength. You looked down, not wanting to look at his face. "I am awaiting for an answer?"

He put his fingers under your chin and made you look up at him.

"It's Geta, he's always like that."

"That's not an excuse!" he yelled, startling you.

He then let out a sigh trying to control his anger. He got out of bed to put on his tunic. "This is too much! I'll make sure the villa is repaired and we return there at once, or we'll be having another emperor's funeral soon!"

"You're right, we can't stay here." You said, mumbling.

He looked at you, then sighed again, He then sat on the edge of the bed, seemed calmer now. He brushed your arm with the back of his hand all the way down to your wrist. "I shouldn't have shouted at you. It wasn't your fault after all. Forgive me."

You got up on your knees and put your arms around his neck. "Marcus, my love, we'll return to our villa eventually. I am sure that we'll be happier there than ever. So could you try to be a little more patient, please? Also, could you try not to get angry with him? Can you do that? For me?" You ran your fingers through his hair. He didn't seem angry anymore.

He nodded. "Very well. I'll try not to get angry, but just for you. However, it'll definitely be hard to do so."

You traced your lips over his cheek. "Then, whenever you feel angry, simply remember this: I love you, I'm yours, my heart is yours, and no one can change that, not in this life or the next," you whispered.

He smiled and then looked at you in the eye. "I do too, Aurelia. I love you with all my heart, my body, my soul, everything that I have." Then he kissed you passionately, soon turned into another lustful kiss and you were surprised when Marcus quickly took off his tunic.

"What are you doing General?" You giggled. "What about the ceremony?"

He grabbed you round the hips and waist and laid you back on the bed roughly, making you gasp.

"Perhaps we can keep them await a little longer," he grinned.

okay guys im seeing movie on thursday im ery excited about it! then I will have to recover in few days... to keep writing my fic, I need your supports to do that, thank you for everything love you all!!

thank you for reading! your reblogs, comments, likes are soo important to me so please if you enjoyed, support me thank you..

@myownwholewildworld @orcasoul @pedroslut4eva @immyowndefender @lailathepedritofan @screechingchildfury @shinymusicpanda @somedayheaven @ivoryandflame @negrita2345 @music-lover09 @javiismyhsbnd @idontcareihavenoidea @jisungandpedrolover @mmkkzz @ro-nahime-things @indiegirlunited @kluvspedro @movievillainess721 @berriesarepunk @bonadeamo @heramj @blushingwueen @smoochispoof @littlemisspascal

if anyone wants me to tag them please comment or msg me :)

[hheaven-sentt]

blood and bone III

summary: vulnerability leads to injury. sometimes, injuries can heal with minimal scarring | leon kennedy x gn!reader

word count: 4.8k

warnings: mentions of violence and gore, alcohol consumption, language, two idiots in love, angst for a bit, mentions of regrets and a bit of self loathing, reveal about reader (i have been planting the seeds of it omg i'm so excited)

notes: part 3 as promised omg i feel unstoppable | ao3

one | two

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

It feels like there’s a hole in your chest. You go through the motions, not paying attention to much else. It feels good to throw yourself into your work. There’s nothing else keeping you steady anymore. The sting of rejection hangs heavy on your skin, it’s all you can think about. Does Leon know? Does he know that you want to know him as intimately as you know guts and sinew? Does he know how bad it hurts to know that he won’t let you?

“You’re being dramatic,” Rebecca says. You look at her through your lashes over the files you’re examining. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,”

You sigh. No, perhaps it wasn’t. “I don’t know,”

Rebecca frowns, contorting her soft features into some kind of sympathy, and leaves you to your sorrow.

Your apartment is so empty when you return to it. It’s always been this way, but it somehow feels worse now. Before your trip to New York, you’d had something to hope for. You felt a bit brighter. Now, you feel as empty as the living room of your place. It’s too cold here.

You collect your forgotten glass from last night. There’s a bit of liquor still loose in the bottom. You wash it out in the sink and place the glass on the counter. You feel like crying.

Everything is too much. The case that is no longer yours lives in your brain, Leon’s rejection weighs down your bones, and you feel more alone than you have in months.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until the salty taste runs over your lips. Tears claw at your throat, feeling like barbed wire scratching at your insides. You try to blink them away, but it just makes their assault worse. With a sigh, you sink to the floor. You feel pathetic, crying on your kitchen linoleum. There's nothing worse than crying alone in a place not meant for tears. You breathe in deeply, feeling empty with each intake. You put your head in your hands.

It’s then that your phone rings. With a groan, you stand, snagging the phone from where it rests on the counter. You flip it open with one hand.

“Hello?” you ask, sniffing aggressively in order to maintain some sort of composure.

“You okay?” Rebecca’s voice, soft and delicate, drifts into your ear from the speaker.

“Yeah,” you lie. “Place is real dusty, made the mistake of kicking it all up,”

With a small laugh, Rebecca continues. “I just wanted to remind you of the gala tomorrow night. The whole team is going, which includes you, so wear something nice,”

You roll your eyes. “I think I’ll sit this one out. Those places make me anxious anyway,”

“No way,” Rebecca says. “You have to come. You’re, like, the guest of honor,”

You frown deeply, scrunching your features together in what looks like a wince. A gala is the last thing you need right now. It really sounds like your worst nightmare.

“He’ll be there,” Rebecca says. You frown more.

“Is that supposed to convince me to come?” you ask, picking at a piece of the counter that’s peeling up.

“When’s the last time you saw him?”

“Probably a month ago,” you say, pursing your lips. “Haven’t seen him since we got back from New York,”

“Yikes,” Rebecca says. You roll your eyes. She doesn’t know the half of it. “Just wear something nice, okay? I expect to see you decked out in all your best jewels,”

“Right, because I’m known for those,” you joke.

She bids you goodbye, and you stare at the shadows on your floor cast by your body in the light of the rangehood. You don’t even know what you would say to Leon. An apology doesn’t seem quite right, neither does pretending nothing ever happened. If anything, you’re sort of hoping he ignores you completely. That would be much easier than pretending to enjoy small talk.

With a groan, you take yourself to bed. This is something you can think about in the morning.

The sunlight does not shed any new perspective on the situation. You’re hopelessly staring at your closest, running through your options of what to wear.

“This is childish,” you mumble to no one in particular, and thread through your clothes to find a simple button down and pleated pants. They will have to do.

You dress quickly. You’re stuffing your shirt into your pants when a button pops off. It lands with a clang against your mirror. You groan, a long, drawn out sound that releases some of your tension. Why can’t anything go right for you on days like this? You reach down to pick up the fallen button, choosing to discard it on your nightstand. Maybe you could figure out how to sew it back on. It can’t be much different than sewing up a wound, right?

The taxi ride to the banquet hall is silent, save for the staticky noise of the radio. The cabbie doesn’t speak, and you prefer it that way. There’s not much for you to say anyway, at least in terms of small talk. You’re not exactly keen on sharing your pathetic situation either. So you remain silent until you pull up to the building. Checking your pockets for your necessities, you push out of the cab. It’s starting to drizzle, so you hurry inside.

You find Rebecca quickly, wearing a beautiful tan dress that hugs her figure well. You suddenly feel frumpy. The cuffs of your sleeves are fraying, your shoes are a size too small, and your pants barely brush the tops of your feet. Maybe you should’ve just stayed home.

“You made it!” Rebecca cheers, shoving a glass of champagne into your hand. “I wasn’t entirely sure you would,”

You force a smile, and say, “Me neither,”

She grins at you, threading her arm through yours. She drags you amongst the other guests, greeting the ones she knows and introducing herself to the ones she doesn’t. You admire her ability to fit into any space. There’s no evidence to suggest that she has ever seen horror, no clues that point to sorrow running in her veins. You cannot say the same for yourself. You’re fidgety, uncomfortable, and try your best not to speak to others. Your eyes shift across the ballroom, looking at the hundreds of heads that are crammed into the space. It makes you frown.

“Doing okay?” Rebecca asks. You nod. “We can find somewhere to sit?”

“You keep mingling,” you say, pulling your arm free from her. “Come find me when it gets boring,”

She flashes you a smile that has lingering worry, and lets you drift into the crowd. This is the last place you want to be, and she knows it. You find an empty table near a big window. The curtains are drawn back, and you can see the rain beginning to pelt down onto the courtyard outside. You’re not sure how long you watch the rain fall, casually sipping your champagne. The screech of a chair being pulled out beside you draws you back to reality.

Leon looks handsome, albeit uncomfortable, in his pressed suit. He fidgets with the cuffs of his jacket as he sits, pointedly avoiding eye contact with you. You swallow hard.

“You looked lonely,” he says, adjusting in his chair. “Figured you could use some company,”

“I appreciate the kindness,” you say, setting your glass onto the table. He finally levels his gaze on you, and a chill snakes down your spine. “I’m alright, though,”

“Maybe I just wanted an excuse to get away from the crowd,” he says, half smiling. 

You’re not sure what to say, so you don’t say anything. You turn your gaze back to the throng of people casually conversing like nothing bad has ever happened. The thought makes you frown. Of all the horrors and devastation you’ve seen, this has got to be the worst. People mingling and drinking like others aren’t dying a few states away.

“Weird, isn’t it?” Leon’s voice pulls you back to him. It’s a bit gruff and worn, like he’s been talking all night. Maybe he has. “Seeing people dance and laugh and be so care free?”

You nod. “They have no idea what’s out there,”

“No, they don’t,” he says, trailing his eyes over your crossed legs. “Maybe it’s better that way,”

“Maybe,” you muse, reaching for your glass again. It was half full before Leon sat down; it’s now almost completely empty. Your mouth feels dry.

“How’ve you been?” Leon asks, leaning forward, forearms on his knees. You watch him carefully, like he’s hiding something.

“Fine,” you say. You’re not sure why the words come out so clipped. You can’t find it in yourself to be sorry, though. He wants arm’s length? That’s what you’ll give him. “You?”

He frowns. “I’m alright. Just haven’t heard from you,”

“Didn’t know you wanted to,” you say. The lines around his mouth deepen, and you want to kiss them away.

“Are we back to this, then?” he asks. You feel his gaze on every inch of your skin. You feel suddenly exposed, raw. You frown.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” you ask, swallowing. “Easier that way,”

You’re not sure why you throw the words back in his face, but you don’t exactly regret it. He watches you like he’s studying you.

“Is that what you want?” he asks, voice low and delicate, like he’s treading uncharted waters. You suppose that’s exactly what he’s doing.

You frown. “You said it. Not me,”

“But is that what you want?”

You don’t know. You want him to give you more than surface level. You want him to be open with you. You want him to laugh at your jokes, and sit on your couch, and help you cook dinner. You want him to know you.

“I don’t know, Leon,” you say. Something sparks in his eyes, an emotion you can’t quite place.

He’s silent for a while before asking, “What’s your sister’s name?”

You gape at him. “Angela,”

“Did you like having a sibling growing up?” he asks, scooting his chair a few inches closer.

You smile a bit. “Sometimes. Other times, I wanted her to disappear. Y’know, sibling quarrel and all that,”

“I don’t, actually,” he says. You furrow your brow. “I didn’t have any siblings,”

“Oh,” you say, because there’s not much else you can say. “You’re welcome to have mine, if you like,”

He laughs then, bright and wide. “I think I’m alright. I’ve learned to like being alone,”

“What did you do?” you ask. “Before everything, I mean,”

He contemplates your question for a moment, like he’s deciding if he wants to share pieces of himself with you. “I was a cop,”

“Noble,” you say, smiling. “That tracks,”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing,” you say, sighing. “Was training to be an EMT, but…things got in the way, and now I’m here,”

“So you’ve always been interested in medicine?” he asks. You nod. “Did you ever want to be a doctor?”

“No,” you say. “Wanted to be in the thick of it. Saving lives, and all that,”

He grins. “Bet you regret that a bit now,”

You shrug. “Sometimes. I like my job,”

“Even when it’s hard?”

“Even when it’s hard,”

He’s silent then. You watch him watch you. Something shifts in the tension between you, and you relax into your chair a bit more. There’s no one else in the room, no music playing, nothing. Just you and Leon, trying your hands at getting to know someone. You’re not sure you know how to be vulnerable like this anymore, not after everything. Visions of blood caked under your fingernails and memories of the screams of the damned make knowing another person challenging.

“What’s your favorite color?” you ask. He grins at you like a child.

“Green,” he says. You nod. “Yours?”

“I like a good burgundy,” you say. He rolls his eyes playfully. “Or maroon,”

“Are those not the same thing?”

You laugh. “Not even close. Burgundy is more brown, maroon is more of a reddish purple,”

“Right, my bad,” he says, smiling.

The hole in your chest begins to close. This feels like an olive branch. You want to pull him into your orbit, feel him on every inch of your skin. You want him to consume you. You’re almost positive that he would.

“Come dance with me,” he says. You almost drop your jaw at the suggestion.

“Who are you and what have you done with Leon?” you tease, wringing your hands together. You want to take him up on the offer, more than you think you know, but it doesn’t seem like something he would do. You’re almost worried that this is some cruel ploy.

He laughs. “We can do something normal for once. No harm in it,”

You nod, standing to follow him into the crowd of other couples. His hand is steadfast on your waist, the other gently clasping one of your own. You feel stiff as he leads.

“Loosen up,” he says, leaning further into you. Your throat feels like it closes up.

“I’m loose,” you lie. He grins at you, perfectly soft lips pulling around his stupidly white teeth. God, you want to kiss him.

You decide then that you don’t want easy. You don’t want to keep him at an arm’s length, and you’ll do anything to convince him he doesn’t want it either. You want him, wholly and vulnerable, completely. You want him to look out for you. You want to do mundane, domestic things with him. You want to cut his hair because the barber never gets it right. You want to walk into the kitchen and see him doing the dishes, not because you asked but because he wanted to clean up your conjoined space. You want to fold laundry with him.

You’ve never wanted this way, or this much. Before, you’d been so content to let him be cold and detached, to throw yourself into your work and live alone. Now, you’re not happy with that. And you think he knows that too.

“You look nice tonight,” he says, voice low and gentle. It washes over you in a wave, settling your bones and warming your blood.

“Careful,” you tease, smiling. “I might think you’ve gone soft on me,”

“I think you knew that already,” he says. “This is the part where you tell me that I look nice too,”

He does look nice. You knew that already. His suit is almost all black, save for the cuff links that shine against the lights of the ballroom. He looks more than nice. He looks perfect, collected.

“Well, now you’ve gone too far,” you say, grinning so wide that your cheeks hurt. He rolls his eyes. “You do look nice, though,”

When the music fades out, he doesn’t let go. You don’t want him to anyway. You want to stay here, like this, forever. You want him to keep holding you until you’re both no more than dust. He drums a rhythm on your side with his fingers, and a shiver runs through you.

“Take a walk with me,” he says, almost bumping his nose with yours when he leans in to look at you. He’s a hair’s width away, and if you leaned in a touch, you’d be kissing him. You wonder what would happen if you did.

“Okay,” you say.

He leads you out of the crowd by your hand, which you can feel the beads of sweat beginning to form upon. You catch Rebecca’s eye as you move through the crowd. She gives you a wide smile and a subtle thumbs up, which you scowl at. It’s raining hard when you exit the ballroom. You can barely see the cars on the street ahead of you through the thick sheet of water coming down.

“Still want to take that walk?” you ask, looking up at Leon. He’s still holding your hand. He grins at you.

“Afraid you’ll melt?” he returns. You laugh. He gives your hand a squeeze. “Just for a bit,”

You’re soaked to the bone two minutes after you step into the shower. Your clothes stick to every inch of your skin and a cold wind blows, threatening to freeze the very marrow within your body. You won’t let it, not when Leon is looking at you the way he is, cheeks tinged pink from laughter and smiling so wide that you can see your reflection in his teeth.

He never once lets go of your hand as he leads you down the sidewalk. You’re silent, but it’s not uncomfortable. A car whizzes by, nearly splashing you, but Leon pulls you into him and covers your body with his. You catch a whiff of whatever fancy cologne he’s wearing, and you almost feel drunk on it. Maybe it’s the champagne you’d been sipping, but you’re not sure. He keeps you within reach, just in case another car attempts to sour your evening, he says.

“Why do you never call me by my name?” he asks suddenly, looking at you through stringy and soaked hair.

You shrug. “Everyone calls you by your name,” you say. “That’s also not entirely true. I only call you ‘Kennedy’ sometimes,”

“Only when you’re mad at me,” he says, grinning. “Which is often,”

“Well,” you say, returning the wattage of his smile. “There’s your answer,”

You stare at him for a moment, taking in the sheer beauty of his person. Before, you’d thought he was all hard edges and crisp lines. That he would cut you if you got too close. Now, though, in this moment and this lighting, he is the softest thing you’ve ever seen. Round cheekbones, soft lips, gentle features that are perfectly symmetrical. He has a few freckles dotted across his cheeks, smile lines that make his eyes crinkle. A hairline scar that extends across his right cheek. Without thinking, you reach out, smoothing your fingertips over it. It’s not that deep, barely snagging on the ridges of your fingerprints. You hear a breath hitch in his throat at the movement.

“Sorry,” you say, retracting your hand. “I didn’t mean to do that,”

“It’s okay,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. His eyes scan your face, lashes fluttering against the assault of the rain. He returns the gentle gesture by pushing a few wet strands of hair out of your eyes. His touch is ghostly, barely there.

“I never thanked you,” you say. He furrows his brows. “For staying with me that night. It…it really helped me,”

“You needed me,” he says. “Did you know that you snore?”

You bark a laugh that you can’t stop from bubbling over the surface. “I do not,”

He grins. “You totally do. It’s almost scary. I didn’t know a person could make that kind of noise,”

“You’re so mean,” you say, frowning. “You really know how to flatter someone,”

He rolls his eyes. “C’mon, let’s go. I need out of these clothes,”

He leads you down a few winding streets, making turns that seem random. It dawns on you then that he’s bringing you back to his apartment. Your heart leaps into your throat, clogging up your breath and your functioning. Your brain is swimming. You’re going to see how he lives, what his life looks like outside of work. He’s letting you.

He only drops your hand to get the door open. The lock jams, which you can’t help but laugh at, and then he’s finally letting you into his space.

His apartment is almost bare, similar to yours. White walls wrap the space, a few items dotted around on tables. He doesn’t own a television, you note. There’s a wall of shelves, though, filled pretty decently with books. You didn’t take him for a reader, but you suppose it makes sense. You toe your shoes off near the door, soaked clothes dripping onto the hardwood floor beneath you.

“Sorry about the mess,” you say, looking up at him. He shrugs.

“Better rain water than something else,” he says. You smile.

You follow him to his room, watching the way he begins to loosen in the space. Regardless of the lack of personality, this place is his home. It’s where he feels most comfortable, most him. And he let you into it. He digs through a tattered dresser that has likely seen many homes, turning only to haphazardly chuck an old shirt at you. You barely catch it, letting out a huff of air at the impact. He follows it with a pair of shorts.

“You’re welcome to shower,” he says, tugging off his sopping suit jacket. He begins working on the buttons of his shirt next, and you almost let your jaw drop.

“I think I’m done with water for a few hours,” you say, cheeks growing warm. He’s halfway to his navel when you excuse yourself to the bathroom. You guess on which door it is and push into it, closing it behind you. You catch your breath.

You feel giddy. You can’t help the childish smile that creeps onto your lips.You change quickly, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

You look frumpy, but very comfortable. You wonder what you’ll do next. Maybe he’ll just call you a cab and send you home. You pray to whoever is listening that that isn’t the case. With a heavy exhale, you leave the bathroom.

“Just leave your clothes in there,” Leon hollers from his bedroom. “I’ll deal with it tomorrow,”

You nod, following his voice. He’s clad in a sweatshirt that is a bit too big on him and a pair of sweatpants. He looks so human. You take a moment to look around the room. Where he didn’t have a television in his living room, he does have one in here. You think that’s odd. There’s a VHS player balanced precariously on top of a few books, wires running across the floor to connect to the television on a table. You wonder if this is where he spends most of his time. He leans over the VHS player, popping a tape into its mouth. Then, he settles into his bed.

You’re standing in the doorway, wearing his clothes, watching him get comfortable in his bed. You feel like some weird stalker or voyeur. It makes the tips of your ears burn.

“You can come sit, y’know,” Leon says, grinning at you. Something shifts in his gaze; he must see the turmoil on your face. “Or I can call you a cab,”

You shake your head, moving to join him. He leaves plenty of space between you–always the gentleman. You don’t recognize the movie playing on the screen, but you watch it anyway, focus so trained on it to prevent you from staring at Leon. The film drones on even though you’re not really paying attention. Leon shifts beside you, arm brushing against yours. You almost stop breathing. You feel silly for feeling this way; childish, weak, vulnerable. You wish you could be more nonchalant, more like your peers. But you don’t know how to be like that anymore. You only know quick action and timidness. You only know how to hide vulnerability for the sake of keeping people from asking if you know what you’re doing. You only know how to be closed off in the hopes that people won’t ask you how you are.

Because you know the answer. You know that if someone asks, you might unload on them. You might tell them how much you miss your family, how hard it is to dig through bodies and pull out their most valuable pieces. You might tell them how much you miss home, how much you regret taking a job in Raccoon City, how much you wish you’d stayed in school, how much you wish you could hold your nieces. 

As you think about it, you begin to cry. You’re not even sure why. It’s after a particularly unbecoming sniffle that Leon shifts his focus to you. You feel very embarrassed, trying in earnest to not let him see you cry.

“I’m sorry,” you say, wiping at your eyes with your wrinkled palms. “Sometimes I get lost in my brain, and it makes me cry,”

He shifts a bit closer to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. His fingers move in circular motions, and you can’t deny how much calmer it makes you feel.

“Talk to me,” he says, almost whispering. You look him in the eye then, and you see the sincerity in his gaze. “I want to listen,”

You sniffle again. “I thought it was easier to be mean to me,”

“I don’t want easy,” he says. You gnaw on your lower lip. “I’m sorry I said that,”

“I don’t want easy, either,” you say. He grins at you then, full and wide, and bright enough to blind you. You wonder if this is the moment you’ve been waiting for. You wonder if he’s finally going to kiss you and get it over with.

“Can I be honest?” he asks. His voice is so soft, so calming, you wonder how you never noticed it before. You nod. “I thought, for a while at least, that if I was just rude enough to you, you would stop following me on missions. I thought that if you couldn’t stand to be around me, you wouldn’t, and you wouldn’t follow me into the jaws of death. Obviously, that didn’t work. That day that you stitched me up? It all hit me. I just…don’t know how to be the man you deserve yet,”

You smile, face warm and light, insides gooey and sticky. “I saw you as a challenge. I would continue to work with you out of spite,”

He rolls his eyes. “I know that now,”

“My turn for honesty,” you say, voice shaking a bit. “I was…in Raccoon City. When everything happened, I mean. I saw it first hand. It’s the reason I am where I am. I was training to be an EMT there, had some friends I’d been staying with. That’s why I get so…weird when I have to do my job. It’s why everything is so hard,”

He nods as he listens. “That must have been hard,” he says. You nod.

“It was devastating,” you say, breathless. “If I was shy before–which I was, mind you–I was a recluse after. It’s why I don’t go out, why I don’t like groups of people, why I have such a hard time being vulnerable,”

“I know what that’s like,” he says. You feel like your heart cracks open, beckoning him inside.

“You make me want to learn how,” you say, trying your hardest not to look away from him. “You make me want to learn how to be vulnerable, how to be open. I’ve told you things even Rebecca doesn’t know about me. I just…struggle with it sometimes,”

He’s silent as he watches you, and you worry that you’ve said the wrong thing. Maybe he just wants to be friends, have an extra shoulder around for when things get to be too much. Maybe you’ve read every situation, every interaction completely wrong. You don’t really know what you’re doing, after all. Maybe your naivety clouded your judgment.

It’s then that he does kiss you. It’s soft and pliant, warming you to your very core. Your hands shift to hold him better, fingers curling around the collar of his sweatshirt to pull him impossibly closer. You melt into him, letting him set little fires across every inch of skin he consumes. You want him to devour you whole. One of his hands finds the back of your head, tilting you ever so slightly to give him better access to you. You give it up without a second thought, a small gasp escaping you as your tongue meets his. In this moment, nothing else exists. The movie playing on the television is drowned out by your bliss, the deafening roar of blood in your ears settles to a beautiful hum. It feels like the crest of a wave splashing back down into the ocean, like a symphony crescendoing. You could die here, wrapped in his warmth and his kisses, and be happy.

When he pulls away, breathless and kiss swollen and reddened, you want to sink back into him. You find it cruel that he would pull away from you, leave you cold where you were so warm before.

“Keep being vulnerable with me,” he says, breath uneven and stuttering. “Please don’t ever stop,”

If he keeps looking at you like this and kissing you, he doesn’t have anything to worry about. You’re more than willing to be whatever he needs, reading to be molded like clay into his desires. You want it. You want him. Your heart flutters at the thought that he wants you too.

[rememberingliampayne]

Dear Liam,

I miss you so much. You deserved so much more support and love. I'm so sorry you didn't get much of it, especially from me. I regret not paying much attention to you or One Direction for a period right before your death. I wish I paid more attention, and this is one thing I will always regret. And I'm sorry I couldn't give you the love that you truly deserved. I've really been missing you this past week and a half. Even though I never got to physically met you, you seemed so sweet, caring, and loveable. You gave off golden retriever energy with your beautiful smile and personality. You deserved the world, and we failed you. Your death has left me in spirals. I've been thinking about you every day and constantly crying. I still can't believe you're gone; this feels like a nightmare that I just can't escape. Your death has affected me more than any other celebrity and some family members. You were a part of my childhood and brought me happiness when I was growing up. I've shed so many tears about you and even more when I've listened to some of your music and One Direction's since your death. Every time I think about you, I just feel heartbroken like I can't move forwards. But I will always remember you and thank you for everything you've done. Even though I never met you, you were a big part of my life and one of the reasons I try to be confident and kind each day. You were so beautiful and funny. Such a pure soul that was too good for this world. I will always miss you and be reminded of some of my regrets. But I hope you are in a better place now. You deserve to be happy and loved and I hope you are resting peacefully. I will always love you and never forget you. Love you Liam, I hope to see and meet you in Heaven one day.

[belialjones]

lol I did a bunch of stuff today and took some pictures and I was gonna share the pictures here and on IG and then I felt like I would rather throw myself down a fucking staircase than try to explain anything I do on social media in photos ever again so

[unproduciblesmackdown]

another billions analysis thing is like so yeah while it's like "hmm let's think about power" but then doesn't really do that, what's there to offset that is "but let's think about what these people with billions(tm) are doing because of their like personal feelings & lives & whatever" and the personal feelings are the thrilling journey of s1 men following the compass of their ego & the way their personal lives matter at all beyond this is about their Relationships. except the relationships are also actually about the power billions isn't really thinking about because the ones billions focuses on involve this Fealty where one person does whatever and the other is just stuck with it. sure they might air some unhappiness sometimes, but if it's not punished or ignored from the start anyway, it'll still end up so inconsequential that it's as though it never happened. and what's left to offset the way that can't mean anything if you again take it for granted that of course people are just locked into such relationships & best they can do is fix it from the inside or embrace it as is? is "do you think this character is a winner among losers & you want to see them pwn everyone & do whatever they want forever" & if you like all the media the creators do like

[prestonmonterey]

ughhhh someone kill me i think i might like stay on the third floor today i actually cant deal with her today

[catchmewjsn]

.

[yuyu-bubu]

girl why you so horrors

homophobia all fun and games until im reminded my parents are genuinely homophobic and they'll always hate this part of me no matter what i say

[cuteniarose]

It’s almost 6 a.m and I can’t sleep because I’m being plagued by thoughts of The Latest OC

[camellia-thea]

writing things down because it's the way i process.

i think the thing that's been getting to me lately is that i've hit the "utter despair" stage of depression, where motivation drops because long-term hope has just been dropping so rapidly since i got sick in april.

it's hard to verbalise how i feel and how it's different from before, but i'm worse, and it just makes me think about the future i'd planned, even with my disability in mind, feels so much less sustainable. and in turn, since i feel closer to graduation than before, i'm afraid of what life will look like when i'm not being loaned money to live on. i can't work, i can barely study, and i'm scared. i'm so fucking scared.

i've always hated uncertainty. i hate feeling out of control. and so the thought of not being able to follow plans or even having ideas of what i even can do outside of said plan is being terrifying. it's also infuriating, and frustrating, and deeply upsetting, to think about all the things that could've been. and it's almost ironic, how in an ideal world i would be working. i would be able to follow my passions. but i can't.

and this world is so far from ideal. aotearoa's disability policy is so broken, i've already had a specialist for my condition tell me point blank that, unless i am bedbound permanently, i most likely won't qualify for financial aid. i really didn't want to think about it when it happened, and she was so willing to try other options and try and find support and solutions for me. and at that point, i was pretty sure that i'd be able to work from home and try to freelance. but now it all feels so impossible and uncertain.

and with all of this hopeless fear, it brings the urge to self sabotage. i could just. drop out. i could just. give up on anything that i could try to do to pave my way. it's not necessarily suicidal; i don't want to die. i just. don't want to exist as myself for a bit.

i've always sought out escapism when things get rough. losing myself in books or imaginary worlds. it's so easy to slip into something where everything could be okay, but it always makes coming back worse. it's like seeing the polls about universal basic income, or magically receiving money. it makes me feel a little sick, the things i'd want to do, knowing how impossible it all is. it just makes the inadequacy of our society and our systems more stark in my eyes.

i'm scared about money, and i'm scared about the world moving on without me. i'm scared about never leaving the house again and i'm scared of leaving the house. i'm scared to be a burden but i want to be taken care of. most of all i want to stop worrying. i want security, i want stability, and none of that feels possible.

and i think the worst, most ironic, thing, is being in mental distress triggers my illness even more, which just solidifies my distress into something even more tangible.

[jackalhadrurusluvr]

repeating my therapists words in my head like the bike message in pokemon

[thriftedtchotchkes]

how do you sleep?

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel's always there to comfort you with his words and a warm bed after a nightmare, but tonight, you need a little more

warnings: 18+ MDNI, jackson era, soft!joel, comfort, undefined relationship, getting together, mentions of nightmares & insomnia, smut, unprotected piv, slow/intimate sex, creampie

word count: 3.3k

“Whas’wrong?”

You didn't mean to end up here again. It's the third night this week you swiped Joel's key from under the doormat and found yourself standing in his bedroom doorway.

"Can't sleep," you reply, barely above a whisper. Exhaustion seeps into your voice, permeating your limbs the longer you remain standing.

He already knows why you're here. Ever since you, Joel, and Ellie arrived in Jackson and were offered homes of your own, rest evades you more than it ever did on the road. It's too quiet here, and your racing mind fills the silence with the horrors of a life lived in constant fear.

You know you're safe now. You know that, but it's not enough to convince your body or quell the ever-present tightness in your chest telling you to run, to hide. Your fears are more potent in the dark, and the shadows creeping from wall to wall have sharper edges. Teeth that threaten to tear you apart and rip away everything and everyone you've fought so hard to protect.

The walls and floorboards creak with life that shouldn't be present in an empty, two-story home—too big for a single person, and yet still yours—and quickly begin to sound like impending death.

Nowadays, more often than not, you seek out a different kind of shelter. The familiar, comforting embrace of the man who kept you warm and protected through harsh winters and from monsters prowling in the night. That's where you belong.

Crisp bedsheets rustle in the dark and then you hear Joel pat the mattress twice—an invitation to occupy the space beside him, the one he always leaves empty just in case.

"Well, c'mon then. Hurry up," he grumbles, still half-asleep. But he isn’t frustrated. He's tired, just like you, and he'll probably sleep a lot better knowing both of his girls are resting soundly under his roof.

You trudge over and waste no time burying your face in his bare chest, breathing in pine and cedar wood shavings before exhaling a heavy sigh of relief. Throwing a leg over his thighs, you mold into him, rubbing your cheek into coarse curls and marveling at the calm, steady rhythm beneath you.

It feels good to be home. You're not sure why you let Maria give you an entire house to yourself when everything you could ever want or need was right across the street. Every time you end up back here, you wonder. And every time you leave, you wish you'd stayed.

He wraps you up in his arms and tugs you into his side, murmuring your name with soft lips that tenderly caress your forehead. They're so warm, just like the rest of him, and you find yourself aching to feel them on yours. It's a line neither of you have ever crossed, but tonight's been rough.

For what felt like days, you were forced to watch as your worst nightmares came to bloody fruition. You were dragged through the most brutal outcomes of events you already survived and could do nothing more than pray you'd wake up soon. When you finally came to and checked the clock, it had only been an hour and a half since you'd passed out. The moon was still high in the sky, taunting you with the promise of more. More dread, endless brutality.

Joel can make all of that go away, if only for a few hours. He always does, but tonight...you don't want to talk about it tonight. You don't want to think about it, about anything at all. You just want him.

You'd feel selfish asking for more if there wasn't already something between you. Something nurtured and gradual that's been building for months, beginning on your travels across the country and coming to an unignorable head here in Jackson.

Back then, it was stolen glances while you bathed together in streams and fleeting touches in your shared sleeping bag under star-filled skies. It's more intimate these days. He holds your hand when you're anxious, and you kiss away the frown lines and frustrated wrinkles that mar his skin.

Every day, you skirt the line between platonic companionship and whatever's starting to simmer below the surface. You're scared to hope he feels it too, but the thought of remaining in this undefined middle ground scares you even more.

The furnace drifting in and out of consciousness next to you radiates with an addictive heat you've told yourself to ignore for a long time, but it's quickly becoming an impossible feat. Pressed into his side, you're trying and failing not to writhe against him. But he's starting to notice.

His hips jerk every time your core drags against his bare thigh, a slow, repetitive grind you really shouldn't continue, but feels so fucking good combined with the slick pooling between your legs. You should stop—really, you should—but his breathing's changing and hitching, catching in his throat every time the growing tent in his boxers meets the friction of your inner thigh.

Then, he gasps something cognizant and urgent, and you know you've been caught. His hand snakes down to your ass and traps you against his side with a grip so firm, plush skin spills between his fingers.

“Woah, hold on there," he breathes out heavily, and his gaze drops to yours curiously. His eyes are wide open and alert, shining with the faint reflection of moonlight streaming through an adjacent window. Bright and yet pitch black as his sleep-addled brain struggles to catch up with his body. "What's goin' on with you tonight?"

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, debating whether or not to ask for his help. His expression is gentle but otherwise unreadable, and there's a chance this could go very, very badly. Maybe you'd be better off apologizing, but you don't want to. You're not sorry for needing him.

And the longer he waits for an answer, the more his body convinces you that he wants the same things you do. His hand is still on your ass, kneading as he urges you to rock into him, but he doesn't seem to realize he's doing it. Then, his thigh flexes and a rush of wetness coats your already soaked underwear. His expression falters, and you know he can feel it.

His voice is tighter when he speaks again, but that tinge of concern is still there. He wants to make it all better, but he can't unless you tell him how. Your hand tenses where it lies on his chest, and he covers it with his own.

"What can I do? Just tell me how to help you—whatever it is, I'll do it," he murmurs, brushing his thumb reassuringly across your skin. You tilt your chin up and suddenly you're close enough to breathe his air. Closer than you've ever been and yet still not close enough.

"I need you to...," Fuck me. But it sounds too crude. A quick fuck isn't what you need right now. You need to be full of him, to hold him deep inside you and keep him there for as long as this night will allow. "...make me feel safe again."

"Tell me how," he repeats as you struggle to bite back a moan. He's working you against him intentionally now, encouraging you up and down his leg, and it's making your brain go a little haywire. "What do you need, baby?"

"Joel," you whine at the endearment, an intense heat building at the apex of your thighs. That's new. You want to hear him say it again, to devour every word as he buries himself inside you over and over. You will him to understand. "I need you."

He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth, steeling himself before nosing into the hairs at your temple. The gesture is so tender and affectionate even as he bucks into your thigh, and it's painfully obvious how hard you're making him. He nods slowly and plants a soft kiss on your forehead, his chest rising and falling more rapidly than before.

"Okay, baby. I got you," he murmurs, his lips trailing down to your eyelids, then the apple of your cheek. "I'll make it all go away, alright? M'gonna take care of you."

And you believe him. He rolls you onto your back and you gasp as his entire weight presses you into the mattress. It's more than just comforting. You feel protected. He's shielding you from this horrible, broken world, somehow managing to prove that there's still goodness to be found. And it's on top of you, broad and strong, and wanting you just as badly as you want him.

Big hands cup your cheeks and his lips meet yours, so much different than the familiar press against your forehead or the top of your head. You're in unknown territory, but he guides you carefully and moves slowly, taking the time to explore and savor. The taste of spearmint begins to overwhelm your senses as the kiss deepens, and you lick into his mouth impatiently, already craving more.

But after years of quiet observation, Joel knows better than anyone how to temper you. Ducking down to bury his face in your neck, he kisses along the underside of your jaw, regaining control of the pace with a sharp, halting suck. And while he refuses to let your urgency rush him, he still allows your hands to roam his skin and tug at his boxers, letting you take what you want—like his only goal is to make sure this lasts long enough for him to fulfill his promise.

A disgruntled groan bubbles in your throat, and you feel him chuckle. "Y'know, patience is supposed to be a virtue," he mumbles, amused, his beard scratchy and grounding against your skin. You huff in response.

Tonight doesn't feel like a night for virtues. Not when things are finally changing in your favor. After so much time, so much running, you actually have somewhere to go—and stay. You're not running away anymore. You're moving towards something that feels real, and dependable, and safe, and you're doing it together. And now that you're so close you can taste it, you're done waiting.

"You're really gonna start caring about virtues now?" you ask skeptically, slipping your hands past the waistband of his boxers to grab his ass.

He hesitates, then huffs out a quiet laugh. "Fair enough."

And with that, you both know the time for talking is over. Something shifts and you're on the same page, ready to take as much as the other is willing to give.

Joel begins to drag your shirt up to reveal more, but suddenly feeling stifled, you take over and remove it completely. The look on his face makes it more than worth it. It's not the first time he's seen you naked, but as his eyes rake over your bare curves, it feels like it could be. Reverently, he returns his lips to yours, kissing you deeply before charting a path lower.

His mouth feels hot as he laves and nips across your collarbone, and he shimmies further down the bed until he's just barely ghosting the swell of your breasts. You gasp, burying your fingers in his hair as he sucks a bruise below your nipple and soothes the sting with his tongue. Licking a wide stripe past the darkening mark, he captures the bud between his teeth, another hand sliding up your stomach to cup your other breast while he alternates between swirling and sucking.

Your entire body feels like it's on fire. The ache between your thighs worsens the longer he continues, but instead of squeezing them together for relief, you wrap your legs around his waist and tug him onto you. By now, you're so wet, there's no way you're not soaking right through your underwear and into his boxers, and you hope he can feel it. If your increasing volume isn't enough of an indication that you need him inside you, then maybe this will be.

He lets out a pained groan into your chest, and you clench in satisfaction. He immediately grinds down, thrusting into you like he's forgotten about the layers of clothing still separating you. You don't bother to remind him.

Bucking him off, you quickly wrench down your underwear then reach for his, yanking them off while he sheds his t-shirt. Your fingers close around his cock before his shirt hits the floor and he startles before melting into your grip, eyes fluttering shut and lips parting around a cross between a sigh and the neediest whine you've ever heard.

You feel that telltale whoosh between your legs again, and after pumping him a few times, you guide him toward your entrance. In the back of your mind, you know you're taking a risk without a condom. You should be safer, more responsible. But it's Joel. It's always been Joel.

His eyes shoot open once he realizes where you're leading him, but you only bite your lip and nod, your expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. An unspoken agreement passes between you, a quiet understanding cultivated through years of friendship and now something more. Then, he presses inside and your mind goes blissfully blank.

No more horrors, no more fear. Just Joel keeping his promise and doing exactly what you trusted him to do. He encompasses you entirely, pressing the length of his body flush against yours as he works himself into you. The stretch was nothing you ever could've anticipated, but it grounds you in the present moment. It's everything you told yourself not to hope for when you showed up on his doorstep tonight.

His movements are slow but powerful, and he rests his forehead on yours, eyes alert and acutely aware of every change in expression. The intensity of his gaze and the slick sound of him burying himself to the hilt should make you self-conscious—it's all you can see and hear, but that's the point, isn't it? To get lost in the way he drags so perfectly against your walls and grinds his hips into yours on every thrust, slow and steady.

He's attentive, cataloging whenever he makes you moan a little louder or your eyes roll, and repeats it again and again until you're writhing underneath him. Your nails rake down his back and scratch at his scalp, and he jerks forward whenever you're a little too rough, hitting so deep, it feels like he's grazing your cervix. But the longer he continues to give you everything you want, the more his body trembles with the effort of holding himself back.

You know Joel, and you can tell when he's resisting an urge. His biceps tense where he's propped on his forearms, bracketing your head, and there's so little space between you, you can feel his abs flexing every time he plunges back inside you. He needs more and you want to give it to him.

Lifting your head, you bridge the tiny gap to meet his lips. "Joel, c'mon. You can fuck me harder than that, I'm not gonna break," you mumble between open-mouthed kisses. That catches him off guard.

He accidentally lets himself go for a thrust or two, and you're cut off by a moan, your walls squeezing him so hard, it's painful. Somehow, you manage to recover just long enough to gasp out the rest. "It's okay if you need something from me, too. Just take it. I trust you."

For an agonizing moment, Joel pauses to observe you, waiting for something in your eyes to contradict the permission you just gave him. But when he doesn't find it, he shakily exhales the breath he'd been holding and his head drops to your shoulder. The groan that follows rumbles so deeply in his chest, it makes your stomach drop. Then, without warning, his hands are gripping your thighs and he's rutting into you like a caged animal finally set free.

There he is. The man who never hesitated to gun down anyone who threatened the safety of his loved ones and did whatever it took to bring his girls home.

Recognition washes over you and fills you with a familiar feeling of security. It's something only Joel has ever been able to give you. You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face into his hair, hoping to return even a fraction of that feeling.

As he gives into his body, he starts to ramble, his words muffled and lost to your delicate skin. But you don't need to hear him to know what he's saying. With every thrust, the bed frame rattles and gets the message across loud and clear. Your heels dig into his back, encouraging him forward, begging him to keep going, and he obliges, quickly reduced to helpless grunts and curses.

The room gets increasingly hotter and more humid, and the cool air flowing through the window isn't nearly enough to provide relief, but neither of you seems to care. You're a little in love with the way your bodies slip together, sweat and slick intermingling seamlessly.

Everything is so wet, and it feels incredible—your skin against his, your walls pulsing around his cock. He's molding into you, so close that you can't do much more than swivel your hips into his, and it's sending you hurtling toward the edge faster than you can fully process. The coarse hair at the base of his cock rubs your clit just right, and when he adjusts the angle to fuck you deeper than before, you hit your peak.

You dissolve into a whimpering mess beneath him, desperately riding out your orgasm as he groans and abruptly bites down on your shoulder. Releasing your legs to grab your waist, he forces himself impossibly further inside you and grinds into your spasming walls until he's coming with you. He gasps his way through it, stilling while he lets you milk him dry, then collapses on top of you and gathers you in his arms.

For a while, you both struggle to catch your breath. The mattress is bare save for the fitted sheet, your clothes, pillows, and blankets having been kicked or tossed onto the floor. It feels nice like this—to savor the winter air cooling your bodies and to just be held. Without letting you go, Joel lifts his head to kiss the teeth marks he left on your shoulder apologetically and then shifts higher to press his lips against the underside of your jaw.

"You alright?" he asks gently, his voice a little gruffer than usual from the exertion.

"Mhm," you hum, nosing into his temple. "More than." He sighs and almost sounds relieved.

The thought makes your heart ache. If he's worried he crossed a line, well. He did. You both did, but it was a long time coming and you don't regret a thing. You squeeze him a little tighter as if to tell him, and he allows himself to melt into you briefly. Then, he draws back to cup your cheek and guide your lips to his.

He kisses you slowly, taking the time to appreciate the sensation of your mouth against his without any urgency. "Feel better?" he murmurs after reluctantly parting from you. You keep him close.

"I don't think we have to worry about any more nightmares tonight," you reply with a small smile. He returns it, eyes crinkling fondly, then rolls you onto your sides to settle in for a good night's sleep.

As you start to drift off, you hear him chuckle and mutter something under his breath that you don't quite catch. But it sounds a lot like, "Might be time for you to finally move in."

thanks for reading!

[marcusluvshelly]

What are these tags even... I'm crying

KinnPorsche Week 2022

Day 3: Favorite couple - KINN X PORSCHE

[lostalioth]

𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡

→ premise: logan was obsessed, he was from the moment he met you. he didn’t get crushes, but you’ve turned the big bad wolverine into a depraved puppy and he’s had enough.

→ pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

→ warnings: 2k words, smut | 18+, obsession [not dark, just like a big crush, idk how to actually write obsession well], belly bulge, unprotected sex, nicknames [baby, princess, pretty girl], creampie, I visualized like x1-3 logan when writing but you can imagine whichever logan era.

→ a/n: kinktober 09

Logan was utterly obsessed, entranced by your entire being. If he didn’t already know what your mutation was, he'd swear you were a witch that cast a love spell on him so he goes starry eyed and dulcet when you walk in a room. He wasn't the kind of man to get crushes, he did one night stands to satiate his needs and yet now he can't bring himself to want anybody but you.

You and your pretty eyes that sparkle when you look at him and flutter your eyelashes to get what you want. You and your tendency to brush against him or run your hand down his arm when you walk around him making his brain go fuzzy and getting him all flustered. The whole team could see how smitten and enthralled he was with you, mocking him and calling him a love sick puppy especially when you go away on mission and he mopes around the mansion. He’s had enough of the little flirting back and forth and nothing coming of it, he was desperate for you and his crush was only getting stronger as the months went on.

You had just gotten back from a short mission with Storm and Jean when before you could even say hi to everybody Logan is grabbing your hand and pulling you away down the hall. “eh- hey! Lo slow down” you squeal out as he drags you along behind him, heart racing at the feeling of his fingers intertwined with your own. The nickname you've resorted to calling him as the two of you have gotten closer makes his ears ring. He loved when you called him Lo you were the only one allowed to, anybody else who tired got glared at.

“Need to talk to ya’ now, right now” he grumbled out, his signature, you swore permanent grumpy scowl plastered on his face. He continues to tug you down the long hall towards your bedroom. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion at where he's taking you. Pushing open your door, he turns around and yanks you inside. Shutting the door, his body now facing you. His grip on your hand is still tight, he didnt wanna let go especially not when you haven't said anything about the fact he’s practically holding your hand.

“What is it? Is everything okay Lo?” You question in that sweet concerned voice you give him when he tells you he didn't sleep well because of another nightmare. “Do you want me?” He blurts out so fast the words practically blend together. You think you hear his question and it makes your head spin in more confusion but you needed him to repeat it. “What’d you say” you question as your gaze stays fixed on Logan, his own glued to your face watching for reactions. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves he starts again “Do you want me?” He questions in a slower softer tone.

Now your head really was spinning and slick settled in your core at his wording, he wasn't asking if you liked him, no he was asking if you WANTED him. your eyes that were on him are now darting around the room like it's the most fascinating thing. Through the fogginess of your brain all you can manage to eat out is a “What..?”

Pushing forward Logan backs your body up against your shut bedroom door, his frame looming over you and blocking you in. The hand that is not entangled with yours comes up to your chin to grab it and make you look at him. “Do. You. Want. Me? I'm not repeatin’ myself again pretty girl” he growls out, punching out each word of his question. He was losing his patience especially after the sweet scent of your arousal fills his nostrils and makes his cock twitch. “Cause i want you princess, have wanted you for fuckin’ months. And it's killing me, you’re killin’ me pretty girl” he groans out in frustration.

“Do you even know what you do to me? What my crush on you is doin’ to me princess? All our flirting and lingering looks, everybody always mocking me for how I act round you” he continues to ramble on, pulling your face closer to his as he waits on an answer to at least one of his questions.

“Yes..i want you Lo” you mumble out breathlessly and low. A big lopsided smirk spreads on Logan’s face as your words register in his head. “What was that baby?” He teases, needing you to repeat it just so he can hear it again.

“I want you Logan, really fucking bad” you whine out as your core aches for attention, your hips gravitate towards his to push against him. “Shit- fuck it” he groans out and grabs ahold of your waist and crashes his lips agaisnt yours, he knew the two of you should’ve gone back to the team. You needed to give Charles a debrief of the mission but Logan could care less at the moment. You kiss him with the same amount of passion and fever as your arms wrap around his neck pressing your chest to his. You hum and moan into the kiss sending vibrations through Logan’s body and straight to his confined cock that was begging to be released. “Jump and wrap ya’ legs around me baby” he instructed, his words mumbled against your lips but clear enough for you to understand. Jumping up a bit, Logan catches you by grabbing onto your ass as your legs wrapped around his waist. “Atta girl princess” you smile against his lips at the praise while he walks the two of you over to your plush bed.

Laying you down on your back, he keeps his body between your spread thighs as his mouth pulls away from yours and drifts down to kiss at your neck. His hard cock pressed right up against your leaking cunt in this position, his large hands rubbing and groping all over your body. Running over your hips and waist, palming over your tits and grabbing at your ass, anywhere his hands can reach, indulging in the fact you're allowing him to touch you like this. “Mhmm Lo, baby please i need you” you whine out and buck your hips against his, grinding your core against his bulge. “Yeah? Whatcha need baby? Huh princess? Use your words” he doesnt pull away from your neck, continuously kissing it and along your collarbones and chest as you were wearing a low cut top, even sucking and biting at your skin to form hickeys.

”Need you, need you to fuck me Lo please” you whimper out and tug at the wasit band of his jeans as well as push up at his white tank top. “Yeah i can do that baby fuck” he grunts out and sucks in a breath, a shiver going down his back when you strach at his lower stomach and happy trail. The feeling of your hands on his bare skin makes his body tingle and skin feel on fire.

His movements are frantic as he is quick to strip off his shirt and yours. Pulling your pants down and off your legs alongside your panties, leaving your bare pussy exposed to the cool air. “Oh fuck~ shes so pretty” he mumbled out under his breath seemingly to himself, you werent sure if it was aimed at your cunt or you. in his haste he just barely pushes his jeans and boxers down enough to free his cock. His throbbing cock springs free, making you gasp at his size, he didn't feel nearly as big when it was hidden as he looks now. His cock long and so deliciously thick that it has your mouth watering wanting a taste. You knew your jaw would burn to accommodate his size; you couldn't imagine your cunt fitting him. “Lo i don't know if it’ll fit” you whine out, looking into his lust blown eyes with concern.

“Pretty girl if you’re as wet as ya’ smell i’ll slip right in” he chuckles softly, grabbing himself at the base and nudging his mushroom tip to open your slit and rub it through your soaked folds. Your slick collects and mixes with the precum leaking from his cock lubing up his shaft and tip. Your hole clenches around nothing everytime he brushes over it making your hips twitch and thrust up trying to get him to push inside already.

“Mmm Lo..please just fuck me already” you whine out and squirm. His brows furrowed in concentration, gaze locked on where your bodies meet, trying his hardest not to already blow his load as he lines his tip up at your entrance. Just rubbing over your pussy with his cock was causing his balls to tighten, your pussy felt heavenly and addicting. This moment was 10 times better than any of the hundreds of wet dreams he had late at night where he’d wake up with a wet spot forming in his sweats.

He lets out a broken gasp that morphs into a string of curses when he finally slowly pushes into the wet heat of your cunt. “Oh fuck~ shes already squeezin’ me so tight baby” he grunts as he finally bottoms out buried to the hilt, his hips wasting no time in finding a rymth and thrusting deep inside you. the sting of your pussy stretching to take his cock makes your head go hazy, eyes screwing shut in bliss.

You clench around him and Logan cant stop himself from thrusting harder and faster, a slurred pussy-drunk mess of sentences fall from his mouth.

“Fuck youre so hot princess, s’good for me” “Cant believe ya’ letting me do this to you, fuckin’ you like this” “Dreamt’ bout’ this for so long, been fuckin’ obsessed with ya’ for forever” he whines out in a long run on setenace as his hips slam against yours, the filthy squelching sound of your cunt and your moans and whimpers fill the air in your room. You didn't care that you were being loud enough that anyone who walked past your door would definitely hear you and know what was going on. the knowledge of that seemed to be spurring both you and Logan on more.

His eyes are locked at where your bodies are connected, his cock creating a bulge in your lower stomach every time he thrusts all the way in. “Fuck baby, look at that, my cock s’big its making a bulge when im buried inside” he groans out and presses down on your lower stomach making your cunt clench down harder on him, your body trying to milk his release out of him. Tipping your head down you open your eyes to watch as his cock thrusts in and out of your throbbing pussy, his tip driving right into that spot deep inside you making you see stars. That spongy spot that your toys could never reach just right when Logan would get you all worked up with his flirting, not like his cock currently is.

“M’gonna cum Lo- baby, Fuck- mhm~ wanna cum with you please” you moan out, your sentence coming out broken up as your climax was teetering on the edge. “Im gonna cum too baby don’t worry pretty girl” he hissed out as his fingers dig into your hips, his own flattering in there thrusting as his cock twitches inside you. “Cum on my cock princess, gonna fill this pretty up makin’ it all mine-” you cut off his sentence by grabbing ahold of the back of his neck, pulling his face down to kiss him desperately.

“Already all yours Lo, i been yours the whole time” you whine against his lips as your high washes over you, cumming on his cock as his thrusts speed up one last time.

Your cream coating his cock acts to further lube up his thick cock as it jackhammers into you, before your cunt milks Logan’s cum out of him in thick ropes that fill you. “Ya’ 100 percent all mine now baby” he hums into your mouth, lazily kissing you while he catches his breath, your hips grinding on his cock as you both ride out your highs.

→ a/n: fully meant to post this yesterday but i barely had anything written for it then and couldnt bring myself to write more. Im doing better than I’ve done the past 3 years with kinktober tho, gotten further than any other times.

[nightingale-prompts]

Comforting Your Batboy

First | Previous | Next

Danny slept next to Dick for a few days after what happened. He no longer felt secure about his place here. No matter where you go you take yourself with you and Danny is the problem here yet again.

Danny didn't understand affection, at least not the kind that a parent gave. The moment Danny told Dick that his parents were scientists Richard understood. Gotham had seen dozens of scientists who pushed the boundaries of morality and there was no shortage of children used to fulfill their ambitions.

Danny still missed his parents. Regardless of how things ended, he had lived his entire life with a family unit that on paper meant life was stable. He had somewhere to go and people who at least acknowledged him as family. Parents that took care of him at least out of obligation.

This story sounded familiar. Like Jason who never stopped loving his mom despite everything or Tim who accepted his neglect as what it was. They didn't know what it was like to have parents that loved them like they should. Dick was lucky to have the parent he had.

Danny remembered quiet dinners as his parents rushed to finish the food that Jazz made or them going on long tirades about their research. For 12 years they devotedly worked on that portal. Every chance they got they'd run off to the basement. Because it was their life's work, the only thing that mattered.

When it was unveiled, Jazz only scoffed. She hated the portal. Dad looked to Danny for praise and Danny didn't know what to say.

"Isn't it just the greatest thing you've ever seen?" Dad put his hand around Danny's shoulder.

"Well...its definitely a thing." Danny laughed awkwardly.

Danny had hoped that when the portal finished it would mean he'd spend time with his parents. Maybe they'd give him more than a passing glance when he brought them his report card. He could share with them his dreams and plans to be an astronaut. Show them the stars and all his research. To prove to them that he was a scientist too.

But that didn't happen. None of that would ever happen.

Jazz warned him not to hope for too much.

"People don't change Danny." She said simply.

Danny still tried. He still hoped. That hope made him try.

That hope killed him.

Danny never told Dick the specifics, about the accident. Dick never pried, but he knew something wasn't right.

Danny would cry in his sleep some nights. Dreams of a life that was far away now. Dick couldn't do much, all he could do was hold Danny's hand and wait for the nightmare to pass in hopes that Danny would forget his dream when he opened his eyes.

Danny's body was scarred. Something he used his powers to cover but they were still there and appeared when the stress got too much. Dick only saw a small part of them.

Dick got a full view once of Danny's back once when Dick left him a change of clothes. Lichtenberg scars like feathered ferns ripped through Danny's left arm and back. Danny hated it when people saw his scars and the marks disappeared the moment he realized he was being watched.

Dick didn't mention it. Not even the faint green glow the marks gave off.

"Why does Batman hate me?" Danny asked peeking out from under his blanket. He was still shrunk down

Dick bundled the toddler up in the blanket.

"He doesn't hate you. He just...he doesn't like things he doesn't understand." Dick tried to not make that sound awful.

"He doesn't understand me." Danny sighed.

"And he doesn't have to. He won't do anything to you. Not with me around. I promise. I know you've been hurt before and you must have felt alone but you got me." Dick ruffled his little fuzzball's hair.

(Ignore small errors. Have bat picture.)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Amazon illegally interferes with an historic UK warehouse election

I'm in to TARTU, ESTONIA! Overcoming the Enshittocene (Monday, May 8, 6PM, Prima Vista Literary Festival keynote, University of Tartu Library, Struwe 1). AI, copyright and creative workers' labor rights (May 10, 8AM: Science Fiction Research Association talk, Institute of Foreign Languages and Cultures building, Lossi 3, lobby). A talk for hackers on seizing the means of computation (May 10, 3PM, University of Tartu Delta Centre, Narva 18, room 1037).

Amazon is very good at everything it does, including being very bad at the things it doesn't want to do. Take signing up for Prime: nothing could be simpler. The company has built a greased slide from Prime-curiosity to Prime-confirmed that is the envy of every UX designer.

But unsubscribing from Prime? That's a fucking nightmare. Somehow the company that can easily figure out how to sign up for a service is totally baffled when it comes to making it just as easy to leave. Now, there's two possibilities here: either Amazon's UX competence is a kind of erratic freak tide that sweeps in at unpredictable intervals and hits these unbelievable high-water marks, or the company just doesn't want to let you leave.

To investigate this question, let's consider a parallel: Black Flag's Roach Motel. This is an icon of American design, a little brown cardboard box that is saturated in irresistibly delicious (to cockroaches, at least) pheromones. These powerful scents make it admirably easy for all the roaches in your home to locate your Roach Motel and enter it.

But the interior of the Roach Motel is also coated in a sticky glue. Once roaches enter the motel, their legs and bodies brush up against this glue and become hopeless mired in it. A roach can't leave – not without tearing off its own legs.

It's possible that Black Flag made a mistake here. Maybe they wanted to make it just as easy for a roach to leave as it is to enter. If that seems improbable to you, well, you're right. We don't even have to speculate, we can just refer to Black Flag's slogan for Roach Motel: "Roaches check in, but they don't check out."

It's intentional, and we know that because they told us so.

Back to Amazon and Prime. Was it some oversight that cause the company make it so marvelously painless to sign up for Prime, but such a titanic pain in the ass to leave? Again, no speculation is required, because Amazon's executives exchanged a mountain of internal memos in which this is identified as a deliberate strategy, by which they deliberately chose to trick people into signing up for Prime and then hid the means of leaving Prime. Prime is a Roach Motel: users check in, but they don't check out:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/03/big-tech-cant-stop-telling-on-itself/

When it benefits Amazon, they are obsessive – "relentless" (Bezos's original for the company) – about user friendliness. They value ease of use so highly that they even patented "one click checkout" – the incredibly obvious idea that a company that stores your shipping address and credit card could let you buy something with a single click:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1-Click#Patent

But when it benefits Amazon to place obstacles in our way, they are even more relentless in inventing new forms of fuckery, spiteful little landmines they strew in our path. Just look at how Amazon deals with unionization efforts in its warehouses.

Amazon's relentless union-busting spans a wide diversity of tactics. On the one hand, they cook up media narratives to smear organizers, invoking racist dog-whistles to discredit workers who want a better deal:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2020/apr/02/amazon-chris-smalls-smart-articulate-leaked-memo

On the other hand, they collude with federal agencies to make workers afraid that their secret ballots will be visible to their bosses, exposing them to retaliation:

https://www.nbcnews.com/tech/tech-news/amazon-violated-labor-law-alabama-union-election-labor-official-finds-rcna1582

They hold Cultural Revolution-style forced indoctrination meetings where they illegally threaten workers with punishment for voting in favor of their union:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/01/31/business/economy/amazon-union-staten-island-nlrb.html

And they fire Amazon tech workers who express solidarity with warehouse workers:

https://www.cbsnews.com/news/amazon-fires-tech-employees-workers-criticism-warehouse-climate-policies/

But all this is high-touch, labor-intensive fuckery. Amazon, as we know, loves automation, and so it automates much of its union-busting: for example, it created an employee chat app that refused to deliver any message containing words like "fairness" or "grievance":

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/05/doubleplusrelentless/#quackspeak

Amazon also invents implausible corporate fictions that allow it to terminate entire sections of its workforce for trying to unionize, by maintaining the tormented pretense that these workers, who wear Amazon uniforms, drive Amazon trucks, deliver Amazon packages, and are tracked by Amazon down to the movements of their eyeballs, are, in fact, not Amazon employees:

https://www.wired.com/story/his-drivers-unionized-then-amazon-tried-to-terminate-his-contract/

These workers have plenty of cause to want to unionize. Amazon warehouses are sources of grueling torment. Take "megacycling," a ten-hour shift that runs from 1:20AM to 11:50AM that workers are plunged into without warning or the right to refuse. This isn't just a night shift – it's a night shift that makes it impossible to care for your children or maintain any kind of normal life.

Then there's Jeff Bezos's war on his workers' kidneys. Amazon warehouse workers and drivers notoriously have to pee in bottles, because they are monitored by algorithms that dock their pay for taking bathroom breaks. The road to Amazon's warehouse in Coventry, England is littered with sealed bottles of driver piss, defenestrated by drivers before they reach the depot inspection site.

There's so much piss on the side of the Coventry road that the prankster Oobah Butler was able to collect it, decant it into bottles, and market it on Amazon as an energy beverage called "Bitter Lemon Release Energy," where it briefly became Amazon's bestselling energy drink:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/20/release-energy/#the-bitterest-lemon

(Butler promises that he didn't actually ship any bottled piss to people who weren't in on the gag – but let's just pause here and note how weird it is that a guy who hates our kidneys as much as Jeff Bezos built and flies a penis-shaped rocket.)

Butler also secretly joined the surge of 1,000 workers that Amazon hired for the Coventry warehouse in advance of a union vote, with the hope of diluting the yes side of that vote and forestall the union. Amazon displayed more of its famously selective competence here, spotting Butler and firing him in short order, while totally failing to notice that he was marketing bottles of driver piss as a bitter lemon drink on Amazon's retail platform.

After a long fight, Amazon's Coventry workers are finally getting their union vote, thanks to the GMB union's hard fought battle at the Central Arbitration Committee:

https://www.foxglove.org.uk/2024/04/26/amazon-warehouse-workers-in-coventry-will-vote-on-trade-union-recognition/

And right on schedule, Amazon has once again discovered its incredible facility for ease-of-use. The company has blanketed its shop floor with radioactively illegal "one click to quit the union" QR codes. When a worker aims their phones at the code and clicks the link, the system auto-generates a letter resigning the worker from their union.

As noted, this is totally illegal. English law bans employers from "making an offer to an employee for the sole or main purpose of inducing workers not to be members of an independent trade union, take part in its activities, or make use of its services."

Now, legal or not, this may strike you as a benign intervention on Amazon's part. Why shouldn't it be easy for workers to choose how they are represented in their workplaces? But the one-click system is only half of Amazon's illegal union-busting: the other half is delivered by its managers, who have cornered workers on the shop floor and ordered them to quit their union, threatening them with workplace retaliation if they don't.

This is in addition to more forced "captive audience" meetings where workers are bombarded with lies about what life in an union shop is like.

Again, the contrast couldn't be more stark. If you want to quit a union, Amazon makes this as easy as joining Prime. But if you want to join a union, Amazon makes that even harder than quitting Prime. Amazon has the same attitude to its workers and its customers: they see us all as a resource to be extracted, and have no qualms about tricking or even intimidating us into doing what's best for Amazon, at the expense of our own interests.

The campaigning law-firm Foxglove is representing five of Amazon's Coventry workers. They're doing the lord's work:

https://www.foxglove.org.uk/2024/05/02/legal-challenge-to-amazon-uks-new-one-click-to-quit-the-union-tool/

All this highlights the increasing divergence between the UK and the US when it comes to labor rights. Under the Biden Administration, @NLRB General Counsel Jennifer Abruzzo has promulgated a rule that grants a union automatic recognition if the boss does anything to interfere with a union election:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/06/goons-ginks-and-company-finks/#if-blood-be-the-price-of-your-cursed-wealth

In other words, if Amazon tries these tactics in the USA now, their union will be immediately recognized. Abruzzo has installed an ultra-sensitive tilt-sensor in America's union elections, and if Bezos or his class allies so much as sneeze in the direction of their workers' democratic rights, they automatically lose.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/06/one-click-to-quit-the-union/#foxglove

Image: Isabela.Zanella (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ballot-box-2.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en