#certainly let them talk about them when they want

[moonlightwritingf1]

Birthday Sex in Monaco | LN4

♥️ summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N's parents take her to Monaco for her birthday. On her second day there, she meets Lando Norris, an F1 driver. Things escalate quickly as the chemistry between them grows.

♥️ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

♥️ word count ━━━━━━━ 4.2k

♥️ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, unprotected sex, p in v, oral sex (f and m receiving), rough sex, multiple orgasms

Based on this request.

“So, do you always flirt with strangers in Monaco, or am I just special?” Y/N tilted her head, a playful smirk tugging at her lips as she leaned against the bar. The warmth of the Monaco evening wrapped around them, the sound of the Mediterranean lapping against the harbor in the distance.

Lando raised an eyebrow, his blue-green eyes glinting with amusement under the soft glow of the bar lights. He swirled the drink in his hand, the ice clinking against the glass. “Oh, you’re definitely special,” he drawled, his voice low and teasing. “But I wouldn’t call you a stranger. I’ve been watching you all evening.”

She laughed, the sound light and carefree, and it caught him off guard. Most people he met were eager to impress him, but Y/N? She didn’t seem to care who he was. And that intrigued him more than he cared to admit. “Watching me? Creepy much?” she teased, taking a sip of her cocktail.

“Not creepy,” he countered, leaning in slightly, his forearm brushing against hers on the bar. “Just…observant.”

The spark between them was undeniable, and Y/N could feel it—every word, every glance, every brush of his hand against hers sent a jolt of electricity through her. But she wasn’t about to let him win this easily. “Observant, huh? So, what have you observed, Mr. Formula One Driver?”

He grinned, the dimple on his cheek making an appearance. “Well, for starters, you’re not from around here. Your accent gives you away.”

“Wow, Sherlock,” she deadpanned, rolling her eyes. “Next, you’re gonna tell me what I had for breakfast.”

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “Croissant, right? You strike me as a croissant kind of girl.”

She blinked, caught off guard. “Okay, that was actually kind of impressive.”

Lando shrugged, a smug smile on his face. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly between them, the teasing banter laced with an undercurrent of something neither of them had expected. Y/N found herself drawn to him—not because of his fame or his looks, though those certainly didn’t hurt—but because of the way he made her laugh, the way he listened to her, the way he seemed genuinely interested in her.

---

It had been her second day in Monte Carlo, and Y/N was already captivated by the city. Her parents had wanted to treat her to a lavish vacation for her birthday, and Monaco had been at the top of their list. She’d spent the day wandering the cobblestone streets, marveling at the yachts in the harbor, and indulging in the decadent food. But it wasn’t until that evening, when she’d wandered into a chic bar, that her trip took an unexpected turn.

She’d recognized him immediately—how could she not? Lando Norris, the Formula One driver, was practically a household name. But she hadn’t expected him to approach her, let alone strike up a conversation. Yet there he was, sliding into the seat beside her at the bar, flashing her that boyish grin and asking her name.

They’d talked for hours, the conversation never faltering. He’d told her about his life on the track, the thrill of racing, the pressure of being in the spotlight. She’d shared snippets of her own life.  And now, here they were, the chemistry between them undeniable, the teasing banter turning flirtatious.

“So, it’s your birthday, huh?” Lando asked, his tone softening as he leaned in closer.

Y/N nodded, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“You mentioned it earlier,” he said, his eyes locking with hers. “I was wondering…if you’re not busy, maybe you’d let me take you somewhere? As a birthday surprise.”

She hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. Is this really happening? She’d never been one for spontaneous decisions, but there was something about Lando that made her want to throw caution to the wind.

“Okay,” she said finally, a smile spreading across her face. “But it better be a good surprise.”

He grinned, standing and offering her his hand. “Oh, it will be.”

---

The apartment was breathtaking, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering panoramic views of the city and the sea beyond. Y/N stepped inside, her breath catching in her throat as she took it all in. “Wow,” she murmured, turning to look at Lando. “This is…incredible.”

He chuckled, closing the door behind them. “Glad you like it.” He moved closer, his eyes darkening with something she couldn’t quite place. “So, how’s your birthday so far?”

She smiled, her pulse quickening as he stepped into her space. “It’s been…unexpected. But in a good way.”

“Good,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Because I’m about to make it even better.”

Before she could respond, his lips were on hers, soft and insistent, and everything else faded away. The kiss was electric, sending shivers down her spine as his hands came up to cradle her face. She melted into him, her fingers tangling in his dark curls as she kissed him back with equal fervor.

He pulled back slightly, his breath warm against her lips. “You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “You know that, right?”

She laughed breathlessly, her heart racing. “You’re not so bad yourself, Norris.”

He grinned, that familiar spark of mischief in his eyes. “Oh, Y/N…you have no idea what you’re in for.”

And then he was kissing her again, deeper this time, his hands roaming over her body with a hunger that left her breathless. She gasped as he lifted her onto the counter, his lips trailing down her neck as his hands found the hem of her dress.

“Lando,” she breathed, her head falling back as his teeth grazed her skin.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “It’s your birthday. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

She looked at him, her eyes dark with desire. “I want you.”

His grin widened, and he leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear. “Good. Because you’re about to have the best birthday of your life.”

Lando’s lips crashed into hers again, hot and demanding, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. His hands roamed her body, sliding down her back and gripping her waist, pulling her closer. She arched into him, her breath hitching as his kiss deepened, his tongue tangling with hers in a slow, intoxicating rhythm. He broke away just enough to trail his lips down her jawline, his breath warm against her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

“Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below her ear.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his hands sliding up to her shoulders where the thin straps of her dress rested. He hooked his fingers under them and slowly pulled them down, letting the fabric pool at her waist. She inhaled sharply as the cool air hit her bare skin, her nipples hardening under his gaze.

His eyes darkened as he took her in, his hands cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing over her hardened peaks. “Perfect,” he said, almost to himself, before leaning down to flick his tongue over one nipple. She gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair as he sucked and licked, his mouth hot and insistent.

“Lando,” she moaned, her head falling back as he switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention. His hands kept her steady, his touch firm yet gentle, as if he was memorizing every inch of her. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and yet completely safe in his arms.

He pulled back slightly, his lips curving into a smirk. “Want more?”

Her only response was a breathless nod, her chest rising and falling rapidly. He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that made her stomach flip, before scooping her up in his arms. She let out a surprised laugh, clutching his shoulders as he carried her to the living room.

He set her down gently on the plush sofa, his eyes never leaving hers as he knelt between her legs. His hands gripped the hem of her dress, and in one smooth motion, he pulled it off, leaving her in nothing but her black lace thong. She felt a flush of heat spread through her body as his gaze roamed over her, his expression a mix of hunger and admiration.

“You’re… fucking stunning,” he said, his voice rough with desire. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her thong and tugged it down her legs, tossing it aside. Now completely bare, she felt a thrill of anticipation as he leaned in, his breath warm against her inner thigh.

“Lando,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Relax,” he murmured, his lips brushing her skin as he moved closer. And then his mouth was on her, hot and wet, his tongue exploring every fold and curve. She let out a moan, her hands flying to his hair, not pulling, just holding on as waves of pleasure crashed over her.

He licked and sucked with an intensity that left her gasping, his tongue flicking over her clit in maddening circles. She arched off the sofa, her hips moving instinctively against his mouth. “Oh god,” she cried, her fingers tightening in his hair as he worked her with relentless focus.

She looked down, her breath hitching at the sight of him between her legs, his dark curls brushing her thighs, his blue-green eyes looking up at her with a fierce determination. “You taste fucking incredible,” he growled, the vibrations of his voice sending jolts of pleasure through her.

Her other hand wandered to her breast, her fingers teasing her nipple as she watched him. His eyes darkened further, his rhythm faltering for a moment as he saw what she was doing. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice strained.

She smirked, her own confidence growing as she saw the effect she had on him. “Like what you see?” she teased, her voice breathy but laced with playfulness.

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he increased the pressure of his tongue, his lips closing around her clit as he sucked gently. She cried out, her back arching off the sofa, her fingers tightening in his hair.

“Lando,” she moaned, her hips bucking against his mouth as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. She felt herself teetering on the edge, her entire body trembling with anticipation.

“Come for me,” he whispered against her, his voice low and commanding. And just like that, she shattered, her orgasm crashing over her in waves of pure ecstasy. She cried out his name, her body convulsing as he continued to work her through it, until every last tremor subsided.

She collapsed back onto the sofa, her chest heaving, her limbs feeling like jelly. Lando looked up at her, his lips glistening, a satisfied smirk on his face. “Happy birthday,” he said, his voice dripping with mischief.

She laughed breathlessly, her hand reaching out to brush a curl from his forehead. “You’re incredible,” she murmured, her voice still shaky.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he replied, climbing up to kneel over her. His hands braced on either side of her head, his face inches from hers. “But we’re just getting started.”

Lando’s smirk deepened as he hovered over her, his eyes dark with desire. “You know,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, “I was planning to make this night unforgettable for you, but I think you’re the one who’s making it unforgettable for me.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, but she held his gaze, her fingers tracing the planes of his chest. “Oh, really? And here I thought you’d be used to this kind of thing by now.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through her as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing her ear. “Trust me, sweetheart, I’m not used to someone like you.”

Her breath hitched, and she felt a shiver run down her spine. “Maybe you just haven’t met the right girl.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes. “But I think I have now.”

Her heart skipped a beat, but she wasn’t about to let him have the last word. “Well, maybe you should prove that to me.”

His eyes flickered with amusement and something deeper, more primal. “Oh, I intend to,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “But first, I want to see what that pretty little mouth of yours can do.”

She raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “Is that so? And what makes you think I’d want to do that?”

His laughter was low, almost predatory. “Because I saw the way you were looking at me earlier. You want this just as much as I do.”

She couldn’t argue with that. Her gaze dropped to his lips, then lower, to where his arousal was pressing against her. She bit her lip, her heart racing. “Fine,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But only because it’s my birthday.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, his hands sliding down her sides as he shifted to sit back on the sofa. His eyes never left hers, dark and full of promise. “Now, show me what you’ve got.”

She hesitated for a moment, then slowly got to her knees in front of him. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it up and over his head. The sight of his bare chest, the way his muscles rippled as he moved, made her mouth go dry. She dropped the shirt to the floor, her hands moving to the waistband of his trousers. She undid the button and zipper, her fingers brushing against the hard length of him through the fabric of his boxers.

Lando’s breath hitched, and he leaned back, his hands gripping the edge of the sofa. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “You’re killing me, sweetheart.”

She smirked, pulling his trousers down and tossing them aside. Then, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his boxers, slowly sliding them down until his hard, thick cock sprang free. Her eyes widened slightly, her mouth watering at the sight of him. He was bigger than she’d imagined, and the way he twitched as she reached for him made her pulse race.

“Like what you see?” he teased, his voice rough with need.

She looked up at him through her lashes, her fingers wrapping around his shaft. “I might need a moment to adjust.”

He chuckled, but it quickly turned into a groan as she leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his cock. She licked her lips, tasting the salty pre-cum that had gathered there. His hands tightened on the edge of the sofa, his hips bucking slightly as she licked a slow, deliberate stripe from the base to the tip.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he muttered, his voice strained. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

She smirked, her tongue swirling around the head before taking him into her mouth. His groan was deep, his head falling back as she started to move, her lips sliding down his length. She took him as far as she could, her hand working the base as she sucked him off. The feel of him in her mouth, the way he filled her, sent a jolt of heat straight to her core.

He reached down, his fingers tangling in her hair as he guided her movements. “That’s it, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with need. “Just like that. You’re doing so fucking good.”

His words sent a thrill through her, and she moaned around him, the vibrations making him groan. She pulled back, swirling her tongue around the head before taking him deep again. She could feel him getting harder, hotter, and she knew he was close. She reached down, her fingers brushing against his balls, and he let out a strangled cry.

“Fuck, Y/N, stop,” he gasped, his hands gripping her shoulders. ‘’I’m going to cum, and I want to feel you cum on my cock first.’’

She pulled back, licking her lips as she looked up at him. “You sure?” she teased, her voice husky.

“Positive,” he growled, pulling her up and onto his lap. She straddled him, her hands on his shoulders as she positioned herself over him. He gripped his cock, guiding it to her entrance as she lowered herself onto him. She gasped as he filled her, the stretch and fullness taking her breath away.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” she moaned, her nails digging into his shoulders.

“So do you,” he muttered, his hands gripping her hips as she started to move. She rocked against him, her movements slow and deliberate, her breath hitching with every thrust. 

“Fuck,” Lando groaned, his hands gripping her hips as she was  moving, her body rocking against his in a rhythm that had them both moaning. “You feel so fucking good, Y/N. So tight, so wet for me.”

She whimpered, her hands braced on his shoulders as she rode him, her body moving in time with his thrusts. “Lando,” she gasped, her head falling back as he hit a spot deep inside her that had her seeing stars. “Oh my God, just like that.”

Her tits bounced with each movement, and Lando’s eyes were drawn to them. His hands moved to cup them, fingers teasing and pinching her nipples as she moaned, her body trembling with pleasure.

“Your tits are fucking perfect,” he muttered, his voice rough with arousal. “I could play with them all day.”

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he growled, his gaze dark with desire as he watched her. “The way you move, the way you feel around me—I could fuck you like this forever.”

His hands cupped her breasts more firmly as she rode him. Leaning in, he took one nipple into his mouth, sucking and teasing it until she let out a loud moan.

“Lando,” she gasped, her hands tangling in his hair. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Good,” he murmured, switching to her other nipple. “Because I’m not even close to done with you yet.”

She moaned, her movements becoming more erratic as he continued to tease her. She could feel the tension building inside her, her orgasm looming just out of reach. She was so close, so fucking close, and she could tell he was too.

She moaned, her head falling back as his fingers teased her nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through her. “Lando,” she whispered, her voice filled with need. “Fuck me harder.”

He growled, his hands moving to her hips as he began to thrust up into her, his movements harder, faster. She cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders as she felt him hit that sweet spot inside her.

“That’s it, baby,” he muttered, his voice filled with a primal need. “Take it. Take every fucking inch of me.”

She moaned, her hips moving in time with his as they fell into a rhythm that was all consuming. She could feel her orgasm building, the pleasure coiling deep inside her as he thrust into her again and again.

“Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “I’m so close.”

“Come for me, baby,” he muttered, his voice low and commanding. “Let me feel you.”

She cried out, her second orgasm crashing over her as she tightened around him, her body convulsing with pleasure. He groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as he felt her clenching around him.

But he wasn’t done. As soon as she started to come down, his hands tightened around her hips, lifting her effortlessly from the couch, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he stood. Her breath caught, feeling him still buried deep inside her, the weight of him stretching her, filling her in the most delicious way. “Hold on,” he growled, his voice low and commanding, the rasp sending a shiver down her spine.

He lowered her onto the sofa, her back sinking into the plush cushions as he laid her down with a gentleness that contrasted the wild hunger in his eyes. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he settled between her thighs, his hips already finding their rhythm again.

'You’re mine,' he muttered, his voice rough with possession, his hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her hard, the force of it making her cry out.

Her head fell back, her moans spilling freely as he pounded into her, the pace relentless, every stroke hitting that spot deep inside her that made her vision blur. “Lando,” she gasped, her voice trembling, her body arching to meet his as he took her with a hunger that left her breathless.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his forehead pressed against hers. “You’re so fucking tight. I can’t—”

Lando’s thrusts grew harder, more urgent, each one driving deeper into her, claiming her in a way that made her gasp and arch into him. He reached for her wrists, pinning them to her stomach as her chest heaved with each powerful thrust. “Look at you,” he groaned, his eyes dark with lust as he watched her tits bounce with the rhythm of their bodies slamming together. “So fucking perfect.”

She could feel every inch of him, every ridge and pulse of his cock as he fucked her with a raw, unrelenting intensity.

“Y/N,” he growled, his voice low and rough, “you feel fucking incredible. So fucking tight around me.”

Her breath hitched, the sound of his words sending a shiver down her spine. She could feel the heat building inside her, coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust. She loved the way he took control, the way he gave her no choice but to surrender to the pleasure.

“Lando,” she moaned, her voice trembling as her hips rocked to meet his. “Don’t stop. Please.”

He smirked, his eyes dark with desire as he leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. “Didn’t plan on it, baby,” he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. “Not until you cum for me again.”

His words sent a rush of wetness between her thighs, her body responding to him like he was the only thing that mattered. She could feel the tension building again, the pressure growing until it was almost unbearable.

Lando’s thrusts grew faster, harder, his cock hitting that spot inside her that made her see stars. She gasped, her nails digging into her own skin as she tried to hold on.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice a low growl. “Cum for me, Y/N. Let me feel you.”

She couldn’t hold back any longer. Her third orgasm crashed over her, her body convulsing as she cried out his name. Her pussy clenched around him, pulling him deeper as wave after wave of pleasure tore through her.

Lando groaned, his hips stuttering as he felt her cum around him. “Fuck, baby,” he panted, his forehead pressed against hers. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

He kept thrusting, drawing out her orgasm until she was trembling beneath him, her body spent but still craving more.

“Lando,” she whimpered, her voice barely audible as she looked up at him with pleading eyes. “I need you. Please.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. With a deep groan, he pulled out of her, his cock slick with her arousal. He gripped himself, stroking quickly as he looked down at her, his eyes burning with need.

“Where do you want it, baby?” he asked, his voice rough with restraint.

She bit her lip, her eyes flickering down to her chest. “On me,” she breathed, her voice shaking. “Please, Lando.”

He groaned, his hand moving faster as he let out a low curse. “Fuck, Y/N,” he panted, his hips jerking as he came. Thick ropes of cum shot onto her tits, hot and sticky against her skin.

She moaned at the sight, her body trembling as she watched him. He looked so beautiful like this, his face twisted with pleasure, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.

Lando’s eyes met hers, a lazy smile spreading across his lips as he leaned down, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss. His hand slid up her stomach, his fingers brushing against the cum he’d left on her skin.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he murmured against her lips, his voice thick with satisfaction. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

She smiled, her heart swelling at his words. “Good,” she teased, her voice soft but playful. “Because I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm as he kissed her again, his lips soft and lingering against hers. She could feel the warmth of his body pressed against her, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he caught his breath.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice tender as he pulled back to look at her. “I hope I’m making it one to remember.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, the sincerity in his voice sending a rush of warmth through her. “You are,” she admitted, her voice soft but honest. “More than I could’ve imagined.”

[jasontoddsotherhalf]

Hey guys, I gave it a try lol let me know what yall think!

Jason Todd isn't a cruel guy.

Not on purpose, anyways. He saw some shit as a kid, as any kid did growing up in Crime Alley. His parents were murdered when he was still very young and he'd been taken in by THE Batman. Regardless of what anyone says, beating criminals up every night of your tween years does affect one's physce. Getting beat with a crowbar and killed by Joker does worse.

But now Jason is back, and he's stronger, and he's smarter. Sure he's scarred up and violent, but he's finally his own soilder, his own dog. And Jason really does love helping people. Which is why along side running the biggest crime ring Gotham had seen in years, he also works for a Mental Health Helpline.

He didn't get many calls directed to him, but he did get one tonight as he sat in his shitty apartment in Gotham, tending to a wound on his leg a few days old. He answered the phone, putting it on speaker and laying it on the coffee table.

"Hello, Gotham Mental Health Hotline. How may I help you tonight?"

A deep voice comes from the other side of the phone, a voice that Jason had heard in his dreams for years, praising him, scolding him, reading him stories to help him get to bed, waking up from resting to go fight crime.

"I'm not at risk. I don't need help." Bruce Wayne says slowly.

Jason clears his throat, his eyes narrowing. Would Bruce know it was him. Would Bruce ever be able to recognize him at all?

"I understand." Jason answered. "Is there any way I can help?"

Bruce took a shakey breath. "I don't need...help. I just...I have some heavy regrets waying on me. Mistakes that I've carried with me, guilt that acts like a noose, tighter recently than it has been in years. My son...I messed up so badly with my son. I want to fulfill my promise to him. I want to make it all okay again for my boy."

Jason shivered. He's not talking about you, idiot. He tells himself. He doesn't care that you're dead. He never cared. He's talking about perfect Dick or clever Tim. Not better-off-dead Jason Fucking Todd.

Jason slowly went back to tending to the open wound, which had started bleeding from how hard he was unintentionally prodding at it. "Have you tried talking to him? I'm sure he'd understand." Jason said through gritted teeth. It wasn't him. Batman didn't need Jason, so Bruce certainly didn't either.

"I would tell him. If he ever showed up. God, I'd tell him anything and everything." Something screeched in the background on Bruce's end and Bruce swore softly. Jason pictured him suddenly speeding through Gotham streets, the Batmobile swerving dangerously, recklessly.

Jason didn't say anything, just waited for his father- for Bruce Wayne- to keep speaking. He continued, after a moment. "I only see him sometimes, when I dream. And he's in my arms again, young and bright and so full of life and potential." So he was talking about Dick. The first Robin who had grown up, fought with Batman, and left, never to return, not as he had been. Dick was Nightwing now, and led his own team, though he was still close with Bruce. Jason relaxed. This call was not about him. He could continue with his plans of vengeance without feeling guilty. I'm sure I'll laugh about this later.

"I'm sorry sir..." Jason trailed off awkwardly. Bruce spoke before Jason could say anything else.

"He's...he's dead." Jason froze. Everything went still. It seemed as though the cars outside all went skidding to a halt, the blood in Jason's veins went cold. The only sound was the old light above him flickering. Jason stuttered slightly as he quickly searched up both Nightwing and Robin on line, a dark part of him hoping one of them had died. But no, there were only two articles published within the last few hours and it was about a case Robin, Nightwing, and Batman had dismantled the previous night.

Jason swallowed. "I'm...so sorry, sir. Do you want to talk about him?" Jason wanted him to say no, needed Bruce to say no. For once he wanted Bruce to close off everything and everyone and retreat back to the dark corner of his mind where he told no one anything.

And there was a long silence between them, Jason was sure Bruce would hang up.

Batman would have. But Bruce didn't. "His name was Jason. And he was the most golden and beautiful boy on this planet. You would have never thought so from judt glancing at him once. His hair was flat and dark, And he was short and skinny and always had dirt on him somewhere. But it was in his eyes, and in his laugh. That's where his love was held. He cared so much. About everyone. He always wanted to help. He would always rush forward, even if it put him at risk. He didn't care about himself. He cared more about the wellbeing of others. He was so sweet and..." Bruce's voice cracked. "I just want my son back. My sweet boy." Jason didn't say anything. He felt his throat burn and his eyes blur. "I-i'm sorry sir. He sounds...amazing. I'm sure whatever it is you feel guilty over..." Jason took a deep breath. "I'm sure he forgives you." He lied. Partially lied. Jason didn't know anymore. One conversation where one participant didn't even know who the other was did not count as closure, and nothing was different. But it wasn't the same either. Bruce cared. All this time Jason had been looking for Batman to show the effect Jason's death had on him, when really it was Bruce he should have been looking at.

Bruce was quiet for a long long time. "I wish that was true, son. But I don't think so. Still, thank you for saying so. And thank you for listening. You're a good kid." Bruce didn't say anything else before hanging up. Jason sat in silence for a moment, frozen in time, feeling dizzy. Then he sprung up, his injured leg aching and dripping blood onto the floor, and he ran to the bathroom, falling in front of the toilet and throwing up anything he had eaten in the past 24 hours.

AU, where Jason returns to Gotham, but in between of his evil mastermind plans and managing the criminal empire, he starts working in this anonymous psychological hotline services.

And gets a call from Bruce-fucking-Wayne.

Well. It is not like Bruce announces that he is Bruce Wayne — it is anonymous, after all — but Jason knows his father's voice, alright?

'I don't need a physiological help,' his father tells him the minute he picks up the phone.

Jason... Snorts.

'Of course,' he nods, making his voice nicer. 'How can I help you?'

Bruce pauses, his breath hitching for a second; almost as if he recognized Jason's voice.

'My... my son thinks I need it, but I am fine,' Bruce insists. 'Still... I want to, well, fulfil a promise I gave... for once.'

Jason rolls his eyes, a familiar irritation flaring up in green flames before his eyes. He wonders who is this lucky son that gets to have such a diligent, responsible father - Dickhead? Tim? Damian?

'I see,' he breathes out, trying to follow a protocol of the calls. 'I am sure he will appreciate your loyalty. Will you tell him about it?'

'If he appears,' something screeches in the background, and if Jason closes his eyes, he can easily imagine Bruce leaning back on the armchair, in the Batcave. 'I... He only ever appears in my dreams, my boy.'

Jason freezes.

'Excuse me?'

'I... He is dead, my son.'

Had someone else died? Jason frowns, reaching for his phone, typing anxiously Nightwing and Robin in the search bar, trying to see if there is something serious happened; because he can't be talking about the second Robin, can he-

'I am sorry,' he blurts out, eyes drifting back to notes on the table, with some common phrases that can be used in this situation. 'I... Do you want to talk about, sir?'

Bruce is silent for a while. Jason thinks he is about to drop the call, but then, he sighs heavily on the line:

'His name was Jason. And he was the brightest boy.'

Jason mutes the microphone. He thinks he is going to vomit.

[covenofagatha]

Practice makes perfect

Agatha makes you build up your stamina until she actually lets you fuck her

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: g!p reader, virgin!reader, sex, age gap, fleshlight, degradation, humiliation kink, Agatha is MEAN and reader very much gets off on it, premature ejaculation, masturbation, reader is a walking HR violation, cumming in pants

When Agatha Harkness finds out you’re a virgin, she actually laughs. 

You’re a junior in college interning at your dad’s multi-billion dollar company over the summer, a nepo-baby at its finest, and so what if you have the hots for the general counsel? So what if you get hard every single time she even looks in your direction? 

You try to flirt with her, you’re as bold as you can be without her going straight to HR, and yet she barely even gives you the time of day. Deep down, you can tell she likes you though. She humors you and doesn’t tell you to shut up whenever you start to talk, so that must mean something. The two of you have formed quite the relationship since the summer started, with you saying the filthiest things to her and her brushing them off as if they were casual anecdotes. 

“I’d make you feel so good, Agatha,” you tell her one day. “I’ll fill you up so nicely.”

It might be pushing the limits — it’s your third pathetic attempt this day at getting her to reciprocate, but she’s used to it by now; it hardly even fazes her. Everyone in the office knows that their boss’s daughter has a cock, and they also know that their boss’s daughter has a filthy mouth, always saying something vulgar and sarcastic. No one takes anything that comes from your lips as serious. You’ve been called a spoiled, entitled, rich bitch, told that you’re heartless for not giving a damn about anything, expelled from three high schools for the explicit jokes that you make.

But your “jokes” to Agatha are the only thing you’re serious about. 

She scoffs and rolls her eyes; at twenty-five years your senior, she has had plenty of experience with girls that promise her the world and barely deliver on any said promises made. “I’m not some quick college lay that lets you rub my upper thigh and pretends that you’ve found my clit, you know.” 

It’s your turn to scowl. “Who do you think I am?” you ask and she fixes you with a pointed glare from behind her desk. “I know where the clit is.” 

“How many women have you actually satisfied?” she asks and your cheeks heat up. You figured it would come up eventually, but now you don’t actually want to answer. You duck your head and Agatha makes a noise, not exactly surprised, but almost disappointed. “You think I’m going to let a virgin fuck me? You probably wouldn’t even last two seconds inside me.”

“Hey, I’d last longer than that,” you snap, your head shooting back up to look at her incredulously. You can feel a slight stirring in your lower stomach at the thought of blowing your load the instant she gets inside you and how she would most definitely mock you for it. 

Agatha raises an eyebrow and chuckles cruelly. “Honey, please. Go back to your desk and get your work done. I’m definitely not having sex with someone who can’t finish reading over a simple contract.” 

“Ha ha,” you deadpan, and she makes a face at you before you get up out of the chair in front of her desk you were lounging in. “Might have to go to the bathroom real quick and jerk one off though.” 

She crinkles her nose and waves her hand at you dismissively and you think that you’ve just blown all your chances with her. She’s definitely not going to want to fuck you now. There is some speculation floating around about your lack of experience and that’s why you overcompensate with the explicit things you say — libel you tell them, but deep down it’s accurate — and if Agatha, who has certainly had her fair share of partners, knows it’s real, then she for sure won’t waste her time with you. 

So you go back to your desk and begrudgingly get all your work done, emailing Agatha your thoughts about the contracts when you’re all done. She sends back a Very good job, y/n and you hate to admit that it gets you hard. You’d like nothing more than to go fuck yourself in the restroom but you stay at your cubicle until Agatha walks by so you can see her before she leaves for the day. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” you call after her as she breezes by your desk without saying a word. It’s the last day of the third fiscal quarter today, and as a reward, tomorrow your dad is bringing his executive staff to your beach house in The Hamptons for a week. Because you’re part of the family, you get to attend, but none of the other interns do. 

It’s been this way since you were little, but only recently did you start to notice how attractive Agatha was. The way she takes absolutely no shit from anyone, even from your dad. The way she coolly holds her ground in the face of IRS audits, FBI raids, and anything else that got thrown at her. The way she raises an eyebrow at you when you say something stupid and it makes your cock hard in seconds. Everything about her drives you fucking wild. 

Agatha lifts a hand up in response, not even bothering to look over her shoulder at you, and your pants tighten almost uncomfortably. 

The second you get back to your apartment, you undo your belt and unzip your pants, reaching inside to take out your hard and leaking cock. Your hips thrust forward at the warmth from your hand and you gasp, the pleasure already dizzying. You think about Agatha on her knees in front of you, looking up at you through her glasses, telling you that you’re just a pathetic slut who will never be able to make her feel good. 

It takes three strokes of your hand before you grunt and your cock pumps out three long spurts of cum all over the kitchen counter. You grab a paper towel, dampen it, and then wipe up your mess before going to take a shower. 

You might have a serious problem. 

And it’s only going to get worse this week. An entire seven days where you’re going to be around her. There isn’t a doubt in your mind that you’re going to be hard for most of it. Is there a record for the most times a person has cum in a day? Because you think you might break it. 

That night, you have a dream about Agatha, as many of your dreams are. She’s sitting in a chair right by the bed, legs outstretched and open and her feet are resting on the duvet. You’re laying stomach-down, cock hard between your body and the covers, mouth watering. Agatha is completely naked, her cunt glistening, and the dream is so realistic that you can smell her. She laughs when you groan pitifully. 

Then she buries two fingers inside her and your hips lurch against the bed, gasping at the stimulation on your cock. 

“Look at you, humping the bed like a bitch in heat,” she snarls and your rhythm stutters. You garble out something incoherently and she laughs before rubbing her clit with her other hand. “Can’t even fuck me right, so I have to do it myself.” 

You moan loudly, grinding against the bed furiously, and she picks up her thrusts to match your face. “I can, please, I want to,” you beg before she cums all over her fingers. She pulls them out of her and then slides them into your mouth and you cum all over the bed and your stomach. 

When you jerk awake right after that, the first thing you notice is how sticky you are. You must have cum in your underwear from just your dream and it’s just further evidence of how completely fucked you are for the next week. 

There will certainly be no swimming for you because you don’t need the entire executive board and your father knowing that you’re getting hard for the forty-six year old general counsel. 

But fuck, Agatha in a swim suit — 

You cut yourself off from the thought because you don’t have enough time to get worked up again. 

Good thing too, because by the time you do get yourself all cleaned up from your little nighttime accident, you have to leave to get to the helicopters. 

There’s no sign of Agatha yet so you make awkward small talk with Rio Vidal, the head of Human Resources, because you have nothing better to do. She’s new and attractive, but no one gets your cock stirring like Agatha. You wonder if it’s the fact that she’s older and it taps into your mommy issues, or the fact that she can cut you down with a simple sentence and you’ve found that you have a huge thing for degradation, or the fact that she’s never going to let you touch her no matter how hard you beg. 

She drives you crazy and you fucking need her. 

Finally, Agatha pulls up in a company car and gets out, wearing a gray pantsuit, and you already feel your face heating up. She gets into one of the two helicopters without even looking at you and you make a beeline for it before your dad stops you and pulls you into the other one. You can’t exactly tell him that you want to be next to his general counsel, so you grumble to yourself before agreeing. 

It takes only about forty-five minutes to get to the house and the next hour is full of unpacking and the wait staff running around, trying to get everyone everything they need. 

Lunch is served and everyone gathers in the dining room except for Agatha, so you excuse yourself and try to go find her. 

You’re just “happening” to be walking by her room when she opens the door to step out, almost bumping into you. 

“Your quick solo session take a bit too long?” you ask crassly, delighting in the way her eyes roll exasperatedly. “Next time, give me a call and I’ll get you there quickly.”

She starts walking to the dining room, leaving you behind so you have to speed to catch up. “If I ever want someone to cum after three pumps inside me and leave me even more unsatisfied than I was before, I’ll make sure to let you know.”

“Hey, I’d lay you badly, but I’d lay you gladly,” you say as seductively as possible and she snorts. “Come on, you gotta admit you’ve at least thought about it.” 

Agatha spares you a glance. “When I’m trying not to cum. It’s a real turn-off for me personally.”

You also love how she gives as good as she gets. “Please?” you ask, whine, beg. “I’ll be so good for you — I’ll make you feel so good.”

She sniffs and rakes her eyes over your body, pausing at the outline of your cock through your pants. Before you even realize what’s happening, she’s pushed you against the wall and her hand cups your cock and you gasp while bucking into her touch. 

“Really?” Agatha chuckles. You make a muffled sound and try to grind up and she rubs her palm against you, making you throb. “You think you could make me feel good with your cock that’s already about to cum for me?” 

“Yes,” you choke out and she squeezes harder. You’re panting open-mouthed now, trying so hard to hold back from your release. 

She is completely unaffected as she leans in to whisper, “You’re so fucking pathetic,” into your ear and you whimper, your stomach twists, and your cock pulses before pumping loads of cum into your pants. You chant swears under your breath while you cling to her arms for dear life and she watches amusedly as a stain spreads on your pants. 

You’ve never been more of a mess in your life and she just smirks smugly before giving your cock a patronizing pat. 

“I’ll tell your dad you’ll be a little late to lunch.” And then she walks away, leaving you completely agape against the wall, cock still twitching in your pants. 

It’s hard to make eye contact with her the rest of the day without heat flushing through your cheeks and the memory of what she did to you making your cock stir. 

The second you can escape after dinner, you do. You fully intend on spending the rest of the night fucking yourself silly and trying to rid your brain of Agatha.

But around ten, there’s a knock on your door and you swing it open to find Agatha standing there in silk, navy pajamas and black glasses. Your jaw drops open and she brushes right past you to walk into your room and tosses something on the bed. 

A fleshlight. 

“What—” you start to say, but you can’t even finish your question because all the blood in your brain has rushed down to your cock in record time. 

Agatha turns to face you, hands on her hips, lips pursed. “Show me that you can last five minutes with it—” nods at the toy, “—and we’ll see about me letting your cock anywhere close to me.” 

Your breaths come out staggered and you stumble over to the bed, head spinning. There’s no way this is actually happening. You shove down your sweatpants and boxers and your cock bobs up, rigid and hard and leaking copious amounts of precum. 

“God, already?” she snorts and your cock twitches. “You’re so fucking desperate, aren’t you?” 

A muffled whimper escapes your lips and you give yourself a quick stroke. “Fuck.” You reach for the fleshlight, heat completely overwhelming your body, but she stops you first. 

“Spit on yourself,” she orders and you watch her with wide and pleading eyes as a strand of saliva drops from your mouth onto your cock. You feel like you’re in a trance as you spread it out along your length, the wetness of your spit and precum coating your cock and making it glisten in no time. “Fucking pathetic.” 

Her jeers only make you harder and this time, she doesn’t object when you grab the toy. You think you can hear her sharply inhale when you drag your cock against the fake pussy lips and you already know there’s no fucking way you’re going to last one minute, let alone five. 

“Wanna fuck you like this,” you babble before pushing your tip in and instantly freezing at the silicone ridges squeezing around you. You sigh heavily before your breathing quickens and you’re practically panting by the time you get your entire cock inside the fleshlight. 

Agatha’s face is unreadable. “I’m impressed you made it in,” she says, coldly and completely dry, and it makes you thrust into it. It feels so good, even though it’s just a cold, plastic toy and you can only imagine how the real thing would feel. “Well, get on with it. Chop chop, honey. I haven’t got all night to watch your sorry attempt at proving you can fuck me.” 

You grunt and start moving your cock in and out of the toy, whines falling out of you, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut to focus on not cumming too soon. You want to last — you need to last for her, because she might actually let you touch her if you. 

“Ah ah,” she tuts and your cock throbs. “Open your eyes.” 

You obey, and the moment you see her, see the slight redness of her cheeks, you know you fucked up. 

With a loud grunt, you cum in the toy, filling it with so much of your seed that it spills out of the fake cunt and drips onto the floor as you continue snapping your hips up. 

Agatha laughs and walks straight to the door. “Not even thirty seconds. Maybe next time.” 

You are absolutely fucked. 

The next night, you’re almost to two minutes while desperately trying to think of anything else other than Agatha standing right there. She’s watching intently, like she’s studying your technique and critiquing it in her head, and you’re doing really well — you think you might actually have a chance to get to five. The secret is thinking about all the boring contracts you had to read this summer to keep your mind off the overwhelming pleasure you’re getting from the toy.

But then Agatha steps closer to you, runs a finger over your lips and down to cup your breast, and says, “God, you really are just a baby, aren’t you?” so sickly sweet. 

It makes you curse before filling the toy up again, your body completely betraying you. 

“That wasn’t fucking fair,” you try to argue. 

She sticks out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. “Oh, honey,” she coos and it’s so fucking condescending. Your cock twitches inside the toy. “It’s not my fault you’re so pathetic you can’t control yourself.”

“Yes, it is,” you whine and she rolls her eyes. 

“We’ll try again tomorrow. Maybe you should cum before I get here so you might have a chance at lasting for five minutes,” she taunts and you’re too embarrassed to tell her that you already got off before she came tonight. Clearly it did not work. 

You figure that maybe you just need to cum more throughout the day to build up some stamina. You fuck yourself with the fleshlight in the morning after you wake up with morning wood because surprise, surprise: you had another dream about Agatha. When she takes a sip of her orange juice at breakfast, eyes flicking up to meet yours as she sucks on the straw, you have to excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and it only takes you about six strokes before you’re cumming all over your hand. It’s a long day of lounging around the pool and hushed conversations, and the moment Agatha steps out onto the desk in a sensible one-piece, you have to wrap a towel around your waist so no one sees your erection through your swim trunks to run back to your room, hastily saying that you forgot sunscreen. You cum into the fleshlight in about three minutes. 

And about thirty minutes before she shows up to your room at 10 pm on the dot, you have another quick session with your hand. 

You are absolutely determined tonight. 

When she strolls in through the door, the air is different. She’s carrying a glass of Scotch and you snatch it as she walks past you, downing the rest in one sip. 

“Are you even old enough to drink?” she asks, eyebrow raised and giving you a once over. 

You laugh sarcastically before setting the cup down on the nightstand and tearing your shirt off over your head, not missing the way her gaze flicks down to your nipples. Usually, you just take your boxers off, but tonight, you want her to see all of you. 

“A little arrogant, hm?” 

Nodding your head, you spit onto your cock and stroke it to full hardness. This is also the first time you haven’t had a raging erection the second she arrived. Before she can say anything, you’ve grabbed the fleshlight and started thrusting your cock into it. It feels good, but you’ve become so desensitized to it, just from today, that you’re feeling more confident than ever. 

Agatha realizes this, sees it on your face. “Wow, look at my slut,” she croones. “She finally learned how to fuck herself. Doesn’t mean you can fuck someone else though. I bet the moment you get inside me, you’ll cum because you’re too fucking pathetic to actually make me feel good.” 

The degradation goes straight to your cock and you grunt, pausing for a second before resuming. The smirk on her face is as frustrating as it is hot and only makes it harder to think clearly. 

“You’re just a worthless little whore, aren’t you?” she snarls and your breaths become shallow and your thrusts become more like quick ruts into the toy. 

“Yes, fuck,” you moan quietly, tightly, and god she’s not playing fair at all. The toy is squeezing you so hard and it’s becoming tougher to keep fucking it, but the prize of getting to be inside Agatha is so close if you can just hang on. 

She scoffs sharply but you can see the heat on her face. Fuck. She likes this. “How are you not absolutely humiliated by yourself and how desperate you are?” she says, getting meaner, and precum is leaking out of the toy each time you drive your cock back into the toy. If you weren’t actively using all of your effort to keep from cumming, you think you would’ve filled up the fleshlight at least three times by now. Agatha is trying so hard to break you, but you refuse. 

The most excruciating five minutes of your life finally end, and you are so fucking triumphant. “We had a deal,” you remind her hoarsely. 

“Stop acting like lasting five minutes is an accomplishment,” she scorns and you have to pull the toy off your aching erection or you actually might cum. Your cock bobs up and down, trails of precum dripping onto the floor and down your length. You’ve made such a mess. “Get on the bed,” she orders, and your heart stops. 

You lay on the duvet, resting your back against the pillows, and watch with bated breath as Agatha slowly unbuttons her pajama shirt. You whine when you can see her tits, round and perky, and you need to get her rosy nipples in your mouth immediately. She takes off her shorts and you can’t help but hump the air, your cock engorged and neglected. 

“Please,” you sob. “It hurts so fucking bad.”

She mockingly coos and then climbs onto the bed with her underwear still on, straddles your hips, and she slowly grinds against your cock. A loud, high-pitched keen tears itself out of your mouth and you buck up into her, but she tsks and hovers above you. “Patience, pet,” she says and there are literal tears in your eyes from how hard you are. 

Agatha reaches down and pulls her panties to the side and rubs her clit for a moment. 

“Can I—”

“—touch me? No. There’s no way you’d make it inside me then,” she sneers and you hate to admit that she’s right. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, your cock jumping when she slides two fingers in herself. Your head is spinning, completely drunk with need for her. 

She takes pity on you and grabs your cock, angling it at her entrance. “It’s okay, honey. You’re just a little baby. My little, pathetic, desperate baby.” 

And then she slides down on your cock in one slick motion and your hands scramble to dig into the bedsheets and a loud, strangled moan comes out of your mouth, and you cum instantly, the feeling of her warm, wet walls around you too much to bear. 

To her credit, she doesn’t laugh as you rut into her frantically. She just waits for you to finally calm down before squeezing her cunt around you. It makes you gasp. “I knew you couldn’t last,” she says, slowly starting to bounce up and down your cock. 

“Too sensitive,” you whine and she clucks her tongue. 

“Well, you promised that you were going to fuck me, didn’t you?” 

Your cock has softened inside her, your cum starting to leak out of her pussy, and she collects it with her fingers and starts to rub her clit. Her walls spasm around you and you twitch. You nod your head and bite your lip — she is everything you’ve ever wanted. 

It takes a few minutes of Agatha clenching around you to bring you back to full hardness, a speedy recovery even by your standards, and she starts to ride you for real. 

“Good thing you’re the poster child for instant gratification,” she grunts, lifting herself up and then back down. There’s such a mess between the two of you that there’s squelching sounds each time she moves on you. You’re practically frozen beneath her and all you can do is watch as she fucks herself on you. “Just need to make you cum before actually being able to use you. I’ll train you so well, make you nothing into more than a cock for me to fuck.” 

You finally regain the ability to think and start desperately thrusting up into her, needing more than anything to make her moan, to make her cum. She’s riding you faster and harder and her chest is becoming flushed and you think she might actually be getting somewhere. 

But she squeezes around you again and fucking groans and you never stood a chance. “Fuck, fuck, fuck — Agatha, I’m gonna — fuck!” you cry and erupt inside her again, painting her walls white once again. You’re not even sure if you made it five minutes inside her. 

Agatha slows down on top of you and you wince at the overstimulation of her still wrapped around you. 

“Did you?” It’s a stupid question, one you already know the answer to, but you’re hoping that maybe you got it wrong. 

Her laugh tells you that you did not and she slides off you, your cock flopping against your stomach in a sticky puddle, and she grabs the edge of the blanket on your bed to wipe the globs of cum oozing out of her. Fuck. You’ll never be able to use that blanket without getting hard again and you know that you’ll be fucking the fabric every single day for the rest of your life. 

She flops down next to you and you wonder if it would be foolish to ask her to stay. “It’s not that easy to make me cum, pet. But don’t worry. I’ll get you there.”

@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights

[kdollikesthighs]

Bedroom warfare: part 1

Itzy Yuna x m reader A/N: Angst, smut is for the next part! Word count: 2,434 words.

You’re looking forward to this. A rare night off, some drinks, catching up with your best friend, and finally meeting the girl who has him acting like she hung the very stars in the sky. He talks about her constantly, non-stop bragging. How she’s different, how she keeps him on his toes. You can’t remember the last time he was this into someone, so yeah, needless to say you were curious.

The roads are getting bad, snow already piling along the curbs. You should’ve come earlier, but fuck it, you made it.

You step up to the door, stomp the snow off of your boots and knock twice before letting yourself in. The second you touch the handle, time stops. The cold hits you, but it's a different kind of cold from the snow. A voice in your head screams that opening this door will certainly lead to doom.

The feeling is so sharp, so visceral, you freeze.

A warning.

You ignore it. This is ridiculous. Staying outside any longer might actually make you freeze. You push the door open.

And then you see her. The voice was right.

Yuna. 

She’s curled up on the couch, leaning casually into the cushions like she’s not a demon wearing human skin. Like she hasn’t detonated a nuclear bomb just by existing in this room. There’s no flicker of shock on her face, no moment of hesitation. Just a perfectly practiced smile as she glances up at you, eyes alight with smug confidence and feigned warmness. She was prepared.

“Hey, man!” Your friend’s voice cuts through your brain’s searching for an escape route as he claps a hand on your shoulder. “Glad you made it. Roads are getting bad out there.”

“Yeah,” you manage.

Your friend smiles that big, dumb smile of his, completely oblivious to the way Yuna’s gaze hooks into yours like a knife. “Come in, man. Get comfortable.”

You step forward on autopilot, hanging your coat by the door like you’ve done hundreds of times. Yuna watches without a single crack in her facade, her body language relaxed, deliberate. As if she’s making sure you understand—play along. Do not fuck this up.

“This is Yuna,” your friend continues, gesturing proudly. “Babe, this is my best friend. The one I told you about.”

The one she already knew. The one whose hands were once all over her, whose voice whispered filth into her ear, whose name she moaned as he took each hole of hers as his, whose life she set on fire and walked away from without looking back.

Yuna smiles, tilting her head just slightly. “Nice to finally meet you.”

The fucking nerve on her.

Emotions swell inside you, a festering wound ripping open, but your face doesn’t betray it. You match her smile with an empty one of your own. “Yeah. Likewise.”

You sit across from them, forcing yourself to ignore the way she’s curled into his side, the way his hand rests on her thigh like a claim. It’s all too much.

Your friend, completely unaware of the hurricane tearing through the room sweeping up only you and Yuna, leans back with a content sigh. “She’s incredible, man. Like, seriously. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone like her.”

Yuna meets your gaze, and you’d have died if looks could kill, then smiles at your friend. “You exaggerate too much.”

“Not even,” he laughs. “I told him you were different. I mean, look at you.”

You do. She stares back at you. Right at you. Like she’s daring you to say something.

You force a smirk. “Yeah. I’m happy for you.”

The night stretches on, a slow suffocation wrapped in forced pleasantries and underlying malice.

Yuna brushes past you as she walks to the kitchen, her nails grazing your wrist just enough to feel like a scratch. It’s intentional, a silent reminder that she can still reach beneath your skin whenever she wants.

You let your expression remain neutral, but when she returns and settles beside your friend, you decide to push back. You swirl your drink in hand, voice casual but with deadly precision. “You ever think about loyalty?”

Your friend laughs, oblivious. “Deep question, man. What, you been betrayed by someone?”

Yuna knows. Her grip on her boyfriend’s hand tightens, her jaw flexing for the briefest second before she smooths it over with a small, cutesy sound. “Is that something you’re struggling with?”

A sharp retort, coated in molten sugar.

You grin, eyes transfixed on hers, where her soul would be if she had one. “Nah. Just thinking about how rare it is these days.”

She tilts her head unimpressed, expression unshaken by your taunt. “Guess it depends on who you’re with.”

Your friend laughs again, oblivious to the daggers flying inches from his head. “Damn, this is getting deep for a casual night.” Bless his stupid heart.

Yuna goes on to laugh a little too hard with one of your friend’s jokes, her fingers running over his arm as she throws a glance your way. It’s like she wants you to know. See? I can be happy without you.

While your friend isn’t looking and off to get another drink, you lean in slightly, whispering just loud enough that only her ears catch it. “So how long will it be before you cheat on him, too?”

Yuna’s smile doesn’t waver, but her eyes flicker with something dark. “Didn’t know you were still this bitter. Having a hard time getting over me?”

Your friend is none the wiser, sipping his drink and rambling on about something you aren’t even listening to. He doesn’t see the silent war happening right as he returns, doesn’t feel the tension stretching thin enough to snap.

And Yuna? She sits there, composed, graceful, effortlessly charming. Like she hasn’t spent the entire night digging her nails into old wounds just to watch them bleed.

You can’t wait for this night to end.

Your friend’s phone buzzes against the coffee table, cutting through the forced, suffocating conversation. A moment of relief. He barely looks at the screen before answering.

“Hello?”

A pause. His expression shifts. It’s subtle at first, then tightening with concern.That big, dumb smile evaporates.

“What? When?”

Yuna straightens beside him, her fingers curling slightly on her lap. You watch the way her entire body goes rigid, instinctively responding to the shift in energy. The room tilts, like the balance of power is about to change. A ceasefire is called, as your common concern grows ever more concerned.

Your friend exhales sharply and runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah. No, of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He hangs up, already moving towards the door.

“I have to go,” he says, grabbing his keys from the counter. “It’s my mom. She’s in the hospital.”

Yuna blinks. “Oh my god?”

The snowstorm outside has only gotten worse, and the roads are probably a nightmare. You’re sure he knows that, but there’s no hesitation in his movements. You can’t blame him, you’d be much the same. He’s already halfway to the door, shoving on his coat.

“I’ll be back soon,” he says, then glances between you and Yuna. “You two will be fine, right?”

Like hell you will.

No. No, you won’t be fine. Not alone. Not with her. Anything but that.

You clear your throat. There’s not enough time for an excuse, and you’d feel even worse using one in this situation. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, man.”

He frowns, halfway into pulling on his other sleeve. “What? Are you serious?”

“The roads are bad. You shouldn’t be out in this. Or I could come with you?”

“It’s my mom,” he says, like that explains everything. And in a way, it does.

You swallow any goodness you have left in yourself, attempting one final protest. “Still—”

“Please, stay here, just in case something happens. Yuna doesn’t know what to do if the power goes out. It’d make me feel more at ease.”

If only he knew half of it. But this is not the time to be selfish. He’s your best friend.

Your jaw tightens. Yuna doesn’t react, doesn’t look at you, doesn’t say a damn thing. She doesn’t need to. Everything she wanted to say, you already did. She wants you nowhere near her. But your friend was right. This was the better solution.

Your friend claps a hand on your shoulder. “Just stay, alright? Keep each other company.”

You nod in reluctant agreement. “Yeah. Sure.”

And just like that, he’s gone. The door slams behind him.

A rotten silence taints the air.

The performance shatters instantly.

The false smiles, the polite distance—it’s all destroyed the second his car pulls out of the driveway.

You exhale sharply, rubbing a hand over the back of your neck as you peered over to Yuna. “Fucking hell.”

Yuna scoffs, her arms crossed. “Yeah, I’m not happy about this either.”

She walks past you, and you hate that you recognize every little sway, tilt and strut her body makes. The controlled tension in her shoulders, the barely concealed hostility humming in her eyes. She’s coiled tight, inches away from snapping.

You don’t give her the satisfaction of speaking first. If anything you’d prefer to just sit in silence, minding your own business until your buddy is back.

“Guess it’s just us now.” She laughs. Fuck. So far for silence. It’s sharp, bitter. Venomous. “Like old times.”

Your hands clench at your sides. “Not fucking funny.”

Yuna turns to face you fully, her lips curling into something devious. “Never said it was.”

A charged tension crackles between you, thick with unresolved filth. You can’t look at her without the memories flooding back. The way she felt beneath you as you pounded her down to where she belonged. The way she used to moan your name, confessing her filthy desires and so-called love. The way she made you feel like the only person worthy of her in the whole world—before she tore it all apart.

And yet, despite it all, despite your veins burning with hatred, you can feel it. You know she’s thinking the same thing. Seeing the same memories.

The past isn’t dead between you. Far from it. It’s alive, thrashing, screaming, demanding to be acknowledged.

Yuna tilts her head, breaking your introspection. She’s studying you like a bug nailed to the wall. “You look like you want to say something.”

You exhale sharply. She’s wrong. You don’t want to say something. You want to stay silent. You have to say something. “Yeah. I do.”

“Then fucking say it.”

Your hands tighten into fists, your venomous glands activating. “You cheated on me.”

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look guilty. Just crosses her arms and raises a brow. “Yeah. I did.”

The sheer lack of remorse in her voice sends you over the edge. You expect her to at least soften, to at least pretend like it wasn’t that bad, saving her own skin. But she doesn’t. She stands in it, owns it, like she’s daring you to throw it in her face. Daring you to do something.

She knows just how to press your buttons. It never works out in your favor, but you bite back.

“And yet I’m still the villain?”

Yuna steps forward, voice razor-sharp, knowing exactly what you’d say. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, right. I forgot. Because you think what I did was worse.”

She doesn’t agree, and the snap in her scowl all but confirms it. “It was.”

You step closer too, closing the distance between you until there’s barely a foot between your bodies. She won’t get the best of you. “You spread your legs for another guy, Yuna.”

“And you turned me into some sex trophy to fucking show off,” she spits.

She’s right, both your words serving as the flame used to light a fuse burning toward an explosion neither of you cares to stop.

Yuna’s voice drops lower, more venomous. “You think fucking me over behind my back was okay? At least I had the decency to keep it private. At least I didn’t—” She cuts herself off, centering herself before continuing. She knows her strikes will land harder if she’s calm to deliver them. “Do you have any idea how it felt?”

You don’t respond. You can’t respond, and she doesn’t stop.

“I found out months later,” she says, voice quieter now, but no less dangerous. “Randomly. Just—stumbled across a conversation between you and your drinking buddies. ‘Look at her tits, isn’t she fucking unreal?’” Her eyes are burning now, the reflection of the impending explosion clearer than ever. “And they agreed. Told you how fucking lucky you were. All while I had no idea you were passing those pictures around like a fucking trophy.”

She had you dead to rights, but you didn’t care. “I was drunk.”

Her laugh is pure ice. Unamused and willing to kill. “Oh, fuck you.”

You began forming something that barely resembles an excuse. Against your better judgement. “I didn’t think—”

“That’s the fucking problem,” she snaps, stepping forward until she’s practically in your space. “You never thought. You never cared.”

You snapped back, your version of the truth different from hers. “That’s not true.”

Her head tilts again. It’s her tell for being in disbelief, her eyes dark. “Isn’t it?”

Silence. You wanted it not long ago, but now it’s suffocating.

You don’t have an answer.

Or maybe you do, but you don’t want to say it. Maybe there is some truth to you being an asshole.

Yuna scoffs at your lack of response, then turns away. You expect her to storm off, to put as much distance between you as possible, but she doesn’t. Instead, she walks to the counter, grabs the bottle of whiskey sitting there, and pours herself a bottom. She knocks it down without effort.

You frown, knowing what kind of omen this was. “Drinking already? That’s a bad idea.”

She scoffs, pouring herself another. “Yeah, you’re famous for being good with alcohol.”

You don’t respond to her accusation. There’s no point. What she did was worse anyway. “Alcohol makes you messy.”

She smirks bitterly, raising her glass in mock salute before taking a slow, deliberate sip. “Yeah?” Her eyes drift to yours, heavy-lidded and absolutely unimpressed. “And whose fault is that?”

You don’t answer.

Because you both know exactly whose fault it is.

And now, there’s nothing left between you but impending destruction. It wasn’t a matter of ‘if’, it was a matter of ‘when’.

[fictionalsweethearts]

SUBLIMATE THE PAIN | SEVIKA X READER | ARCANE

Synopsis: Sevika helps you to explore yourself and subside the pain and the shame of self pleasure.

Contains: comfort, soft!sevika, unexperienced!reader, wlw, first sexual experiences, soft talk, masturbation, fingering.

A pretty personal fic, tbh, but Sevika as a character seems to be patient and loving when it comes to sex and I'm here to write about it. Enjoy!

Sevika had promised you patience and comfort, a woman with her vast sexual experience knew the unpleasant and uncomfortable details of love. She knew the burning and the pain, the disgust, the sorrow, the shame and the numbness, and for that reason she had promised to accompany you in the process with as much patience as necessary.

She kissed you again on the neck, a mirror stood before you sitting on the bed, Sevika's vast hand ran over your breasts and her grey eyes looked at you through the reflection, inviting you to stop ignoring the signs of your body. Her breasts brushed your back, her mechanical hand gently parted your legs and revealed the juiciness and softness of your core.

"How do you pretend to touch her without knowing her?" The woman asked. "You ignore many things, babe."

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment since you had your first kiss of the evening, but you promised not to let shyness win you over this time. It was the third night and the third time you tried, the last two having ended with a sudden lock-in in the bathroom or tears of shame and frustration running down your cheeks.

"I can't. I swear I can't." You cried as Sevika kissed your wet cheeks.

"Of course you can, don't be like that with yourself."

You considered that Sevika could be your mentor in this unknown field for you, the guide that would allow you to understand sex as something more than a mere routine or necessary act. "To begin with, doll, we don't intend to have a child with this. Not even if we wanted to. Second, I've seen as many pussies in my life as I've smoked cigarettes and yours is undoubtedly beautiful."

You laughed to hide your shame, but Sevika meant it. She was decades ahead of you in sexual experiences, she knew the female anatomy in depth, taking the time to explore herself first. Sevika knew that no one could teach her how to have an orgasm, and she fondly remembers the first times she tried self pleasure in the silence of her room, picturing that pretty girl at the market who used to sell her peaches at a good price. It was another Zaun, more precarious, less saturated with pornography and violence, and certainly her brain needed little to start imagining. And the softness of the girl's breasts under her blouse, her long neck and olive eyes were more than enough to awaken that visceral desire in her.

She dedicated her first orgasm to that girl and her peach scent. It was in a way tender, but the starting point of an endless journey through the unexplored region of sexuality. She soon discovered that inserting a finger was pleasant, that if she moved it in a certain way, it was even more so. She discovered that her breasts were sensitive if touched properly, that her entire skin was a map of erogenous zones and tickles, that rubbing her pussy against the pillow was delicious, and that after an orgasm she slept better. And soon, as soon as she was over five foot seven and learned to smoke without coughing, Sevika discovered that touching herself tasted better if someone she liked did it for her.

"Slow." Sevika whispered, placing a kiss on your shoulder. "Look at yourself. What do you see?"

"My pussy." You whispered, barely giving your reflection time to look back at you.

"You say it like it's a bad thing."

"It's not bad it's…"

"Strange?"

"I don't usually look at my pussy, Sev." You groaned.

"You should, it's pretty." Sevika laughed, caressing your waist with her metal fingers. "Think of all the men who have been staring at their cocks for as long as they've been conscious of them hanging between their legs, do you think they feel ashamed?"

You hesitated. "No?"

"There are two things a man always believes to be true." Sevika said, her tone lighter. "That they have the fattest cock on the block and that they can duel a bear without weapons, and win."

You laughed, your legs shaking slightly. Sevika smiled back. "If only you had the confidence they have in themselves, doll. It would be all so different."

Your expression sobered, this time giving the gap between your legs a longer look, that much neglected organ that deserved just a little more recognition in your life and in the lives of many other women.

"Look at the labia majora, the shape of it, the length of it…" Sevika whispered. "It frames the labia minora, the ones closest to the entrance."

You'd seen them in some anatomy book at the library, but recognizing them on yourself was quite different.

"I should have shaved more." You groaned in frustration.

Sevika snorted. "Are you saying that because of you or me? Cause lemme tell you, a hairy pussy doesn't grosses me out. On the contrary."

"But it does to me."

"Mine repels you?" Sevika inquired, leaving you speechless for a moment.

"No…" you whispered. "Yours… it's yours."

"I see. Now think the same about yours, sweetie." Sevika said. "Yours is what it is and that's it. Don't you dare apologize for how your body looks. Do I apologize for not having an arm?"

And you fell silent once more. Sevika sighed, kissing your neck. “You get my point.”

Sevika reveled in your body, in your flushed cheeks and focused eyes. She loved seeing you present. “You’re already wet.” She whispered. “But it can get wetter. Take two fingers.”

Sevika brought you index and middle fingers parted to the sides of your entrance, urging you to press. “Massage, slow.” She whispered, showing you the movement.

You obeyed, following the motion timidly at first, until you soon understood the purpose. That movement, however subtle, opened a pent-up dam that began to make you wetter and wetter. You moaned, feeling the urge to touch the rest but Sevika held your wrist. “Start from edges.” She said. “Don’t rush it.”

It was one of your vices, quick, silent masturbation. With your legs closed, a hand on your mouth and your eyes closed tightly, as if you were committing a crime that you wanted to finish soon. They were fleeting moments of pleasure that later turned into disconnection with yourself.

But Sevika knew you deserved better than that.

With your index finger you traced circles on your labia majora, slowly while Sevika whispered in your ear, kissed it and bit your lobe, making you shudder subtly. It was a constant and gentle movement, with no other purpose than to explore yourself.

"Come closer to the center." Sevika whispered. "Apply pressure, rub a little."

Your eyelids fluttered at that tickling between your legs, the sticky and wet murmur of your folds that made Sevika moan softly and her breathing accelerate, her breasts pressing against your back. Your hips moved unconsciously, you looked at your hand through the mirror, delicately between your legs with the elegance of an erotic painting.

"You're so pretty." Sevika gasped. "Look how your cheeks blush."

"Yours too."

Sevika smiled. "It just turns me on like you can't imagine seeing you touching yourself."

Sevika was known to be an avid spectator. More than once she would abstain from participating and sit on the couch in the brothel with a cigarette between her teeth, asking her girl to give her a show. There was something about watching such an intimate ritual that stirred every nerve fiber in her. Watching them unfold before her, rubbing themselves the way they liked, moaning genuinely, shuddering, whimpering and sighing, being able to see how their own hand is able to take them on a roller coaster of sensations. That ritual held a power that Sevika was fascinated to behold, and tonight you were her apprentice and her muse.

Sevika squeezed your breast, playing with your hardened, sensitive nipple. She already wanted to taste them, but she had to be patient. The appetizer was your self-exploration, the dessert was her mouth between your legs.

"You know… when there's too much business to attend to." Sevika said, her grey eyes watching you. "I can't visit the girls, so I lay back on my bed with a cigarette between my lips…" she murmured. "And I squeeze my breasts. Over and over, I touch them… massage them… while thinking of old encounters, of sounds… smells. You know how I love smells."

"All of them." You whimpered.

"Yes… from the armpits to the neck, between a couple of breasts and a wet pussy." Sevika sucked in between her teeth. "All of them."

You remember how Sevika had taken to sniffing you the first time she had you. She inhaled the scent of your neck and the crook of your elbows, behind your knees and your armpits. It was a scent loaded with codes, codes that communicated intentions. The pheromones were the best card to attract the most finicky organ of the human body; the nose.

"Sev." You whimpered. "Can you…?"

"That would be the shortcut, so no. I won't touch you yet."

You groaned, tilting your head back as Sevika placed a kiss on the top of your head. "Patience." Sevika drew your hand to the shy hood at the top of your pussy. "Pamper her, that's what it's for."

You traced circles around it, letting out a gasp. Sevika kept her hand on your wrist, indicating the methodical and steady pace, drawing sweet moans from you. "I'm wet just by looking at you." She whispered.

You bit your lip, the urge to grind harder and harder. An orgasm was building inside you, steady and certain, as Sevika kissed your neck and motioned for you to quicken your pace. "Ah, fuck…"

"Moan better." Sevika said. "You can be as loud as you want here."

You whimpered, your hips seeking more contact as you moved and you rubbed against your hand. Sevika pressed her fingers against you, urging you on. "Keep going… don't rush." ​​

"Ah, Sev."

"You like it? It's better when you don' try to cum in two minutes."

You hurried your hand, but Sevika held you back. This wasn't a race and you were certainly getting ahead of yourself. "Old habits die hard."

Her metal hand held your legs apart, her other hand ascending to your chin to make you look at yourself in the mirror again. “We’ll try again, okay?”

This part was the one you liked the least. It wasn’t just the pain, it was the accumulated frustration from past sessions with no results. Sevika told you it was all in your head, that you were just as deserving of this pleasure as others. But you still felt skeptical.

“Middle finger.” She whispered, bringing it to your entrance. “Just press, darling. Soften your entrance.”

You pressed your lips together, obeying her command even though you preferred to rub. You eased the tip of your finger, gently moving it in circles. “It already burns.” You whined.

“I know. We talked about sublimating pain, remember?” You nodded. “Your body is already relaxed, you’re wet. You need to focus on breathing.”

It seemed that when it came to penetration, your body locked up. It was an overwhelming burn, a wall of fire if you will, closing in around your fingers and keeping you from entering. Sevika had tried this in the past, drawing whimpers from you that would never stop causing her guilt. This time, however, it was about allowing yourself to do it.

"I don't like it, Sev."

"You don't like it because you're predisposed to suffer." she insisted. "I know you can, babygirl."

You looked at Sevika through the mirror, her grey eyes soothing you. "Breathe, deep. One… two…" you inhaled, your hand between your legs, the wall of fire present. "Three. Exhale…"

You dared to venture deeper, your walls coupling to your finger as the burn quickened your breathing. "Shh." Sevika kissed your neck. "Breathe again."

One… two… three…

Exhale.

“Ah…” you moaned, inserting the last bit of your finger and feeling the latent but less painful tension. “Mhm.”

“Good girl, look at yourself.”

You opened your eyes, looking at yourself in the mirror. The palm of your hand rested against your clit, your finger inserted all the way in, like a new but unrejected intrusion. “Sev.”

“I told you you could, you're taking it whole.” Sevika smiled. "Can you move it?"

You barely curled your finger, but you recognized the rugous wall inside you. "Yes…" you moaned.

"Breath for me." continued Sevika, gently taking your wrist as she motioned you to curl your fingers once more. "One... two..."

"Mhm, Sev." you moaned, your eyes closing. "Fuck."

"Does it hurt?"

"The pressure." you managed to explain.

"You're tensing, baby. Relax..." Sevika let out a pant, kissing the side of your neck. "You're doing so good."

You endured and took a deep breath, curling your finger against the inner wall Sevika talked you about. You felt a tickle, barely diminishing due to an increasingly timid pain.

And Sevika seemed pleased. "You did good, baby. Rest."

You pulled your finger back when the pressure forced it, only for Sevika to cup your chin in her fingers and pull you in for a long kiss. "Well done." She said between kisses. "Fuck, you looked so beautiful."

Sevika showered you in kisses, from your mouth to your navel, repeating how proud she was of you. "You've crossed the threshold, gorgeous. You just need to practice."

You smiled, feeling the hint of a happy cry build up in your throat. But Sevika cheered you up with another kiss. "We'll try again tomorrow. Sooner than later I'll have you cumming in my fingers over and over again."

You chuckled, watching Sevika kiss your inner thigh. "It's rude to look at the food without eating it, y'know?" you teased her.

"How rude of me." she purred, her kisses coming closer to your wet and now dilated pussy. "You better moan properly, doll."

"All you want."

[mamayura]

Okay but what's crazy is that the episode does subtly reveal that Adrien did keep it a secret from Marinette that he's more than silent jogging buddies with Sublime

In the beginning, Marinette says that when she asked Adrien if he and Sublime talk when they go running he always says "no". This is factually correct as we find out in the end through Sublime:

But there is obviously something not adding up here. Sublime literally says "Outside of running, of course Adrien and I talk". They just arent talking in any of their morning runs because Sublime in particular is doing it as serious training. So no talking because that would impact their breathing, but outside of that? Well, yeah, duh.

And that makes sense

Adrien and Sublime are in the same ancient Greek class, of course they would talk. I'm gonna go with the assumption that this is why Sublime started running by his side, because they vaguely knew each other from Greek class and when they crossed each others running paths one morning they were familiar enough to just run together in silence

Look, I- I dont know how to put this more elegantly, so I'll rip off the bandaid. The vibes I'm getting from this episode are that Adrien was more than cool with not talking anyway because he deliberately keep his friendship with Sublime a secret from Marinette because he knew Marinette would be weird about it and that made him uncomfortable.

He knows his girlfriend and she's peanut-butter-and-jealous.

And the thing is, as much as this certainly is a complicated topic with a lot of factors to consider for both sides, the way the episode had Marinette go about all this...

... the episode proved him RIGHT. He was right to be too uncomfortable with letting Marinette know about being friends with Sublime. She merely found out that they were running together in silence and proceeded to not only keep watching them each morning and taking photos, Marinette even proceeded to stalk the hell out Sublime:

No, this isnt normal. This isnt a "quirky girlfriend" thing to do, or "funny haha". Its one of the reason why Adrien didnt feel comfortable letting her know.

And, I mean, yeah. I can't blame him for it, can I? :I

Later on, Sublime is very quick to piece together that the girl hiding behind them is Adrien's girlfriend. Not the thing I would immediately go with, unless of course Adrien did already vaguely mention having a girlfriend to Sublime at one point. Then yes, her coming to this conclusion after Marinette followed her all day makes a lot more sense. Even if those are not.. nice implications. The episode does go on playing it straight at first that Marinette is the weird and a bit alarming girlfriend.

Look, you can pretty this up if you like, but for me, Adrien is clearly a solid bit uncomfortable and very apologetic here to Sublime because of Marinette's behavior. Sublime too is being nice about it to a degree you shouldnt take for granted. She would have had been perfectly justified in saying something else entirely. Adrien is trying to be a good boyfriend about this, but Marinette is out here proving him right in having struggled with wanting her to know about Sublime. Marinette has been following her around all day, Sublime noticed, and Adrien is doing good faith damage control here by telling Sublime that Marinette has good intentions and only wants to be her friend.

Something, though, that the episode clarified 3 times wasnt really the case:

It is so weird that at the core of the problem for both sides of Adrinette WAS Marinette being peanut-butter-and-jealous.

Marinette did NOT try to befriend Sublime out of some pure-hearted desire to know her. She did so because she feared that Adrien could end up not loving her anymore if she doesnt gain some control over the Sublime situation real quick

And Adrien DID keep his friendship with Sublime a secret from Marinette because, well, was he wrong?

And thats the thing. The episode just DROPS this in favor of saying that Marinette only had these pure-hearted intentions to know her when that isnt true. The episode proved Adrien alarmingly RIGHT in his gut feeling to keep Sublime a secret from Marinette, they just-

They just didnt let him know about any of it as if that makes it any less true. I would understand it if this episode had been entirely about tackling this issue for good. Adrien not being wrong for feeling uncomfortable with letting Marinette know about any new female friends and then Adrien gets proven right, but the situation is saved by Marinette's secondary desire of befriending Sublime.

Sure, not the plot of my choice, but I would GET IT because it would actually cover the given problem. Here it is... they didnt do it. Adrien was proven right, Marinette did everything wrong to Sublime that was possible and ended up breaking her prosthetic and ruined the sponsorship with a combo of Marinette's and Ladybug's harmful inconsideration.

Marinette did exactly what Adrien was afraid of... and they just DON'T resolve the initial Adrinette core of this issue. It's still ongoing. Marinette didnt even get to react in the end to finding out that Adrien did keep her in the dark about talking to Sublime:

I guess for now the explanation for that will be that Adrinette switched positions in this for once and now it's Marinette who isnt questioning it enough that Adrien only said the truth to her going by the technicality of "She only ask him if they talk while running".

Obviously, this is not how it works. He kept her in the dark. And whether he was right to doing so or not isnt important for the feeling I'm getting that this is just the beginning of a streak of similar problems like this. The postponed resolution to this will happen at a later point, and knowing Miraculous, they'll do it after it escalates to hell.

We already saw it in "Illustrhater" and the synopsis for "Werepapas" for example also sounds like Marinette will not stop here being a questionable girlfriend

I just dont understand why they would keep on DOING that?

[clxssified-mirxcle]

God, I'm so Lovesick ᯓ★ Satoru

Satoru Gojo isn’t normal. Not as a sorcerer, not as a coworker, not as a friend, and certainly not as a friend with benefits. After all, why does he keep insisting on doing all the things that a couple does when you two clearly aren’t? It's almost like he likes you or something!

Containing:

Friends with Benefits, Satoru and you being complete idiots, Obliviousness, Unrequited (not really) love, Implied suggestive content, Denial is a river in Egypt...and also in Reader's head apparently, Impulsive confession

Notes: Mimi tries to avoid use of phrase "Y/N" at all costs; Wrote this with Fem!Reader in mind but tried not to mention it very often. Any feedback is appreciated esp when it comes to writing x readers in general!

Nowadays, it feels like you're waking up in his bed more often than not. Silk sheets, sun rays streaming through the floor to ceiling windows of the penthouse, and that grin of his. His hand messed up your hair when he noticed that you were awake, tangled from the activities that have become more and more frequent ever since you two made that deal.

Six months ago..

"Aren't you supposed to be on a date or something?"

You looked up from your paperwork- your students had just come back from another mission with a grade 3 curse. It was your co-worker, white hair and blindfolded in black. You sighed, wondering how he always knew. It'd been going on like this for a while now- you'd find someone to talk to, and just as you were to go out on a date, they'd cancel last minute or ghost you- it made you wonder if it was a curse sometimes.

"Does that Six Eyes of yours count towards other people's love lives or something?" You asked, rolling your eyes and signing the last page before filing it away. You hadn't even bothered to dress up this time- you felt like something happening was inevitable. You and Gojo were somewhat close, you supposed. Not enough to be on a first name basis, but enough to be friendly. He always laughed and said you were being too picky about it, to just call it being friends. So that's what you did.

You called it being friends, but with you both being sorcerers, it wasn't the most normal of friendships. He'd barge into your office proclaiming that the two of you should hang out, which often ended up with him lying on the couch and talking while you did your paperwork…and his as well.

It was nice, though, listening to him talk. You couldn't tell half the time whether his stories were real or not, and he'd usually bring sweets with him. Whether or not you had to bribe him to get them depended on how nice he felt that day about sharing.

"Shame. They're losing out," He commented as he swung your office chair to face him, a hand on one of the armrests. "We should go out for drinks then. You can drink your sorrows away, and I-"

"Gojo, you don't drink. It messes with Infinity, doesn't it?" You said, cutting him off with an unimpressed look. He probably just wanted to laugh at you while you cried and take blackmail photos. The man had a folder full of Megumi photos; he probably had one filled with ones of you at awkward angles too. It was comical how dramatic his face was as it fell, looking like you'd killed a puppy in front of him.

"You're such a party killer…but that's not a no to going out, is it?" He grinned, switching back quickly and leaning back. "Let's get milkshakes, then. I know this one American-style diner in Harajuku that specialises in them."

"…Do I even have a choice?" You asked, crossing your arms in your chair. When it came to sweets, the man was nothing short of ravenous.

"Nope!" Gojo chimed, using the sleeve of your uniform to pull you up and tug you with him as he headed out the door. "And stop with that 'Gojo' stuff, will you? Call me Satoru, like a normal friend."

The ride to the diner was…relatively uneventful, though you could feel his eyes on you the entire time if you weren't looking. You both were looking through the menu before you got fed up with his staring- he'd been staring, almost studying you over his menu.

"Spit it out, Gojo." You sighed, still holding up the pretence of looking through the menu. You'd decided on what you wanted a while ago, anyways.

"What do you mean, spit it out? I'm not doing anything of that sort." He said, a faux-innocent expression on his face as he put down the menu, calling over a waiter to order.

You finally looked up from your menu as the waiter took them and gave your order, leaving with a strange look at Gojo's white hair and blindfold. Your eyes narrowed as you both waited for your drinks. "You keep staring at me weird. Spit it out already." It was probably just a prank that he wanted to pull on Nanami or something.

"You ever heard of an arrangement called being friends with benefits?" He asked casually, one arm resting over the top of his booth chair, already talking before you could answer. The milkshakes had come by, and while they looked delicious, they sat abandoned for now. "I'm interested in one. With you. You don't need to worry about feelings, anything like that. If you're not into it, then I understand, and we can-"

Your first instinct was to say no. That it was a stupid idea. Your second was that it was a prank. Your third…considered it. After all, Gojo wasn't bad looking. Far from it, to be exact. White hair that you knew was soft because of how he once spent an afternoon talking about his hair products that perfectly matched his eyes. Oh, those eyes. You'd only seen them twice, but they were unforgettable. They had to be the prettiest ones you'd ever seen, a cross between some sort of gemstone or crystal and blue glacier ice.

Fuck it, you're sorcerers. You'd have to be dreaming if you expected to live a long life...though Gojo probably would, being the 'Honoured One' and all.

You were so caught up thinking…or admiring, sipping on your milkshake, that you didn't notice that he was still talking when you answered.

"I'll do it."

"That's totally fine! I don't want to pressure you into anything and- wait what?" You'd never seen Gojo so stunned before. You couldn't see his eyes behind that blindfold of his, and he was ever so thankful for that because he just knew that the way his eyes widened was embarrassing.

You couldn't help smiling, leaning back against the back of your booth as you relaxed. "I said that I'd do it, Gojo."

"Then call me Satoru. It's only right if we're going to be in this sort of relationship," His mouth turned up into a grin that you knew meant he was about to say something weird. "After all, I can't have you calling me by my last name while we're-"

You silenced him before he could say anything else by shooting him a glare. "Gojo, I swear to God-"

"What're you thinking about?" His voice, slightly rough from sleep. He had one arm around you as he leaned down, pressing his lips to your neck before you playfully swatted him away. "C'mon, tell me!"

"Ack- Watch it Pretty Boy! I just woke up!" You giggled, burying your body further in the sheets. "Just thinking about when we first made the deal." According to the man, you'd become a lot more cheerful lately, and you were inclined to agree. Probably because you two started spending time together a lot often.

"Oh yeah? Well… I don't know about you, but I'm thinking about spending the day together. I have a vision and everything." Satoru grinned, sitting up and tugging on your arm like he had that day, when your relationship with him changed. You couldn't help but laugh as he all but pushed you into the bathroom, closing the door.

He'd changed since then, too. Or rather, his behaviour towards you did, at the very least. Sure, there were the times when he'd barge into your office, but you'd rarely see him outside of Jujutsu High. Since the previous November, you found yourself seeing him nearly every single day…and often every night, with the nature of your arrangement. It was almost like having a boyfriend. Almost. Because he wasn't your boyfriend. The way he'd take you out, for dinners and to places that could've passed for dates? The way that he'd make breakfast for you in the morning while you were asleep even though he preferred to just reheat food? How he'd grin just a bit wider whenever you called him Pretty Boy?

It made you almost double guess yourself sometimes.

Because sometimes, you'd wake up to him asleep, his arm holding you close to him like you'd leave the moment you woke up, and you'd almost believe that this whole arrangement was something more. Because he'd sense that you just weren't up to it occasionally, and instead say "Let's just sleep tonight, I'm tired and it's late. You should just stay over,"

And so you'd wish for something more.

It was an impossible dream, really. He was Gojo Satoru, for heaven's sake. The strongest, whose birth shook the world of Sorcerers and humans alike to its core when his eyes opened to reveal a power that hadn't been seen for at least a century. It'd take nothing short of a miracle for someone like him to become remotely interested in you.

You came out of the shower to a new dress laid out on the already made sheets. He was clearly planning something fancy; from the soft fabric to the floral blue pattern that sprawled across the white cloth. It was beautiful, and not the first outfit he'd gotten you, but as you put it on…you couldn't help but wish that he'd given it to you because he liked you. Not as a friend, not as a co-worker, not as whatever you were now, but as someone to love. God, he confused you. He had to know what he was doing, acting like this.

He wouldn't tell you where you two were going no matter how much you pestered him, meaning you had to rely on your memory. He took you from train station before you two finally got onto a bullet train and watched as the city turned into countryside. Getting off onto some station in the middle of nowhere, Satoru grinned as he ignored your questions and linked your arms together, pulling you close to him.

"Sorry, Sunshine, but I couldn't have you figuring out where we were going." He murmured, winking. You hadn't even realised that he'd neglected to put on the blindfold today.

"Pretty boy, what do you mean-" Your voice was cut off by your own yelp as you felt the familiar rush of queasiness as your surroundings morphed.

Of course something felt off. He hadn't fucking teleported them.

"Satoru, I swear to-" Your voice that was about to raise faltered, as you looked around. "…Where are we?" Your lips whispered, mind, body and soul utterly entranced by the sight that lay before you.

It was beautiful. You and Satoru were standing on the bank of a lake that was filled with floating red lotuses, the overhead sun making the water that you could see shimmer with flecks of pale yellow and gold.

"Somewhere in Northern Thailand. Nice, isn't it?" He answered from where he was standing, one arm around you- you hadn't even noticed when he'd done it- with a smile on his face.

The words 'Nice is an understatement' were caught in your throat as you turned to look at him, lips slightly parted open in what was normal to him, but to you was in absolute awe.

Satoru was always a good looking guy, handsome even. But oh, he was radiant. His white hair was striking on a normally, but in the sun on a day like this, you swore that it was glowing like a halo around him. Blue eyes that looked like they were made out of stained glass and long lashes that looked almost frosted in snow that would never melt. You both were in your mid 20's, but the one word that came to mind when looking at him was boyish, and it made a smile rise to your face as he took your hands in his.

"Dance with me, C'mon!" He said, eyes sparkling in a way that made you second guess everything again, eyes widening and cheeks heating up in a way you knew you had many times before…though you were pretty sure Satoru never noticed. You nodded, slightly stunned as he started leading you in something resembling a waltz, a giddy laugh escaping your lips.

"There's not even any music to dance to!" You spoke, laughter seeping through the pauses of your words as you took one hand off his shoulder to try and get hair out of your face from how he spun you around.

"I got it all in here, don't worry!" He smiled, guiding your free hand to just over his heart, and you prayed that he couldn't feel how warm your skin was or how your own heartbeat sped up.

"You're so stupid…" You mumbled, looking away as that smile got to you again.

Really, you had to get a hold of yourself. This was getting unbearable.

"Stupid? After I got you this?" He asked, a shit eating grin on his face as he turned you around, taking out a small jewelry box. "I'd be crushed if you thought that of me after this."

You felt the smooth chill of metal against the skin of your neck, instinctively looking down. He'd gotten a necklace. Aquamarine set in silver, the metal swirling around it in fibers so thin they looked almost liquid in the sun. It was beautiful.

And so, so wrong. Because a gift like this was something you got for someone special, and you…you weren't special to Satoru. Not in the way you wished it to be. Not enough to warrant what you were pretty sure was a custom made necklace that clearly cost more than double your monthly rent

So why did it create that familiar pit in your stomach? That blockage in your throat which didn't go away no matter how hard you swallowed?

You turned around and could barely get the words out, voice quiet as you whispered, "…Satoru, I can't-"

"You can't what?" He asked, a mix between a confused look and smile on his face. "I know I've never bought you jewelry before, but-"

"I can't do this anymore!" The words came out of your mouth faster than you realised. His mouth was still open from when he was speaking, and his eyes were wide in what one could only describe as utter shock.

Silence fell over you both. He was looking at you like you were someone special.

Oh. You'd messed up.

Oh.

You felt wetness on your cheeks. Strange, it wasn't raining.

You were crying, weren't you?

Looking at Satoru, he was about to cry as well.

"Satoru, I- I-" Your lips were wobbly as you slowly stepped away, barely holding yourself together. You were trying to look at anywhere else but him, really, hands fisted in your clothing with enough force to worry about the fabric ripping.

"I'm sorry. I can't do this anymore. I just-"

You were cut off by Satoru's voice so quiet yet so loud, faltering in a way at the end that just made your heart break. "Did I do something wrong? Tell me, please. I can- I can make things better. I'll make it better. Whatever it is, just tell me and-"

"No, you really can't." You whispered, forcing out a smile as you wiped your tears, the necklace, as delicate as it was, weighing like a thick chain of solid steel on your body. "Because you make everything better, you see. And that's the problem. I've not been a very good friend with benefits to you, you see."

"I've gone and fallen for you, and the worst part is that I don't even know when it started. I just look at you and feel dizzy with how my heart starts beating so fast."

That's strange. Why was he smiling with the purest form of relief on his face when he had been fighting a look of utter despair beforehand? He had to have lost it. Congratulations, you're to be credited as the person who made Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer, lose his mind faster than any curse. Fantastic.

"That's embarassing. I arrange all this, get you nice jewelry, and you still steal the first confession?" He said, half to himself as he ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe I should've listened and told you sooner."

You couldn't do anything else but stare, mouth agape with confusion as he stepped forward towards you, eyes filled with nothing short of adoration on his face.

"I had all planned out, really. I honestly had half the mind that you already knew." Satoru grinned, staring at you like you were the only one in the world. You were so close to him. Sure, you'd been closer, but everything felt different. Lighter. As if the necklace had lost all its weight since he had put it on you.

"You didn't know at all?" He asked, his fingers briefly resting on your hand before traveling up to rest on your cheek, bring your face closer to him.

"Not one bit." You breathed out, as you both leaned in, eyes closing and lips meeting.

It wasn't your first kiss, not by a long shot.

But you were pretty sure it was your favourite.

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[slaytheusurper]

⭑ The Art of Combat ⭑ (Chapter Three, Domina Mea)

Masterlist

A/N: This is a bit of a crazy one, lots of screaming-

Pairing: Emperor Caracalla & Geta x Noble!Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, mentions of death, mentions of neglect, lowkey reader having daddy issues, Acacius has PTSD, confrontations, arguments, macrinus being a snake and touchy emperors.

Summary: The banquet of the Emperors could not have gone worse as they try to win you over.

Word count: 4.5k

It had been two days since your near death experience, but it felt like a blessing almost. Even though your father didn’t want you to progress in your ‘relationship’ with the Emperors, you did. And it felt good, their attention filled a hole you had left empty for so long. Lucilla tried her best to fill it, to bring you and your father closer. Perhaps out of motherly love, perhaps out of guilt. 

It was now you who was avoiding him, it felt useless to explain to him why you didn’t see the harm of socialising with the Emperors. But he saw it very differently, you knew that but that didn’t change how his behaviour seemed almost hypocritical to you. To you it seemed best to avoid him for now and let things cool off. 

You were on your way to Athena’s temple, in previous situations when you weren’t sure what to do, you would try and talk to her, hoping she would pour some of her wisdom into your mind. But alas, your questions and pleas would often be left unanswered. However, now that you were closer to her temple, you felt the need to try again, maybe- just maybe she would answer you in her place of worship. 

Arriving at her temple, an immediate feeling of relief and calm washed over you. Ordering the guards your father had insisted come with you, to stay outside, you entered the holy place. You found few people there, most of them were working women, upon passing them they glanced away. You continued your way to her statue and when you stood in front of it, you could taste her righteousness in the air you breathed. So you knelt, and prayed.

It hadn’t been long before you decided to head back to your fathers estate. You definitely felt more at ease and confident about your actions, even though the goddess did not speak to you. The guards were still in the exact same spot you left them. The day was warm and bright, causing your eyes to squint the whole way back. You were certainly grateful for the carriage that brought you back home.

Almost instantly upon setting foot back at the estate, you felt like something was wrong. Servant seemed anxious and rushed and guards were shifting on their feet. You knew your tranquil spirit was about to vanish into thin air. Lucilla paced around in the inner courtyard, pinching the bridge of her nose while doing so.

Upon hearing new footsteps, she looked up. You only gave her one questionable look while approaching her before she clarified why the whole of the estate was in distress. 

“We received an invitation today, yet again, from the Emperors.” She huffed, fiddling with her rings in the process. Your face lit up but dimmed just as soon as it lit when Lucilla seemed to grow even more frustrated. “Listen to me, this is not good.” Lucilla looked around before continuing, “If they are fully set on you there is no telling what they will do with you, I fear for your safety but who fears even more for your safety is your father.” 

You rolled your eyes at her words. “And where was this ‘fear’ when he left me alone, out of his grasp?” You fired back. Anger started to simmer beneath your skin, you liked Lucilla but felt that she was not in any place to tell you about your father. She has a different relationship with him than you. Lucilla sighed and rubbed her forehead, before taking a seat at one of the stone benches decorating the courtyard.

“It is the truth, as hard as it may be for you to hear. He is afraid of losing you, please, for your sake and his, at this banquet, do not act overly… ‘friendly’ with them.” Lucilla’s voice sounded low and worn. And you couldn’t help but wonder where your father was and what had occurred between them.You simply nodded before heading to your own quarters. 

It seemed an eternity had passed until you were pulled out of focus by a knock on the door. You left the scripture on your table and got to your feet. A familiar man’s eyes met yours, Edas lowered his head respectfully. “My lady, we are ready to depart.” Edas stated with a small smile. You felt like he was your true friend, when you were upset as a child he would levitate you in the air until you laughed and even now he was there when things got tense again.

“Thank you for fetching me, are you coming with us today?” You asked him, slipping by him while doing so. “I’m afraid not my lady, I was informed to stay here.” He said with thin lips. “Oh, alright. I will see you when we get back.” You answered kindly, before strolling through the estate towards the entrance. And like every time, a carriage waited for you. As soon as the door of the carriage closed behind you, you could feel your father's eyes on you.

“Did Lucilla tell you?” Acacius warned. He wore dark circles under his eyes and his nails were short from how he nipped at them. “Yes, she did.” You responded, even as you tried to hide the annoyance laced in your words, he seemed to tense up a bit. Neither of you said much more during the ride there, Lucilla staring mindlessly out the window. Even you felt a bit of dread rather than excitement upon seeing Palatine Hill come into view. 

It was not Macrinus greeting you this time, but about four Praetorian guards instead. You still did not know the reason for the banquet, but you were glad to soon be close to the mighty Emperors again. More noble ladies and lords appeared and even senators were in attendance today. But one certain presence or about six of them did not go unnoticed by you. 

You saw them as soon as you arrived at the entertainment hall, six concubines lingering around the Caesars. They sat, or more lounged, on a shared settee, similar to when you last visited. Both Geta and Caracalla sat up straighter when you came into their view. You approached them behind Acacius and Lucilla, lowering your gaze as one of the concubine's tits were almost fully exposed.

Your usual smile and bright eyes around the emperors were gone, feelings of jealousy and annoyance crawling up your spine instead. “Your majesties.” Acacius bowed, one hand around Lucilla and one balled upon his chest. “General.” Only Geta acknowledged him, Caracalla peering behind them instead, as something much more interesting was hiding there. Lucilla bowed to them before letting you pay your respects. 

“My Caesars.” You curtseyed, eyes avoiding them. A dark haired concubine’s hand made her way down Caracalla’s chest, giggling quietly in his ear. “My Lady, you look divine, as always. How good of you to grace us with your presence.” Geta mused, a grin on his lips as his eyes made their way down your frame. You couldn’t help the tiny smile escaping you at his jest. “Of course Caesar, I could never ignore your invitation.” Your tone remained flat and ever so respectful, they did not like that.

It was then Caracalla glared at your father, before his eyes flicked back to you. “Sit with us tonight, I command it.” Caracalla said in an unusual tone of voice. Your eyes met your fathers and he gave you a stern look. How could you ignore an Emperor’s command? This was not life or death, but more like your father’s wrath or death. “Of course, your majesty, I only wish to please you.” Caracalla still seemed a bit disappointed by your reaction. 

“General, I hope you amuse yourself tonight. I heard some of the senators wish to talk with you, you might go to them, with your wife.” Geta enunciated with irritation, his face gave away that there was no bargaining to be done. You were afraid they had caught up with the situation between you and their General. “I will your majesty. Let us seek out the senators my love.” Acacius dismissed himself, and Lucilla with him. 

You knew what you were in for tonight, yet you didn’t care anymore about how your father felt. He didn’t understand the amazing, freeing and extraordinary ‘relationship’, if you could call it that, you had with the Emperors. Geta and Caracalla did not let you stand for long, and gestured for the whores to leave, much to your relief. They made room for you between them and you sat in your favorite spot once more, and got handed a cup of wine.

Caracalla leaned towards you while biting his bottom lip, releasing it before speaking. “We have arranged something for you tonight, something we’ll think you’ll enjoy.” He almost giggled and gave himself away. “Brother. Do not ruin her surprise.” Geta stressed, before giving you a smile. A smile which you happily returned. They finally got the reaction they wanted and would do about anything to keep you happy tonight. Geta gave a curt nod towards a senator you knew to be Thraex.

“My Emperors! Ladies and Lords, tonight I present…the art of combat!” The second Thraex had spoken a thunderous applause could be heard. You glanced at both Geta and Caracalla with curiosity. As Macrinus entered the room, your curiosity grew. “From Macrinus’ stables, the already well liked gladiator...Hanno! And from my own stables...the mighty Vicheck!” Thraex roared. Once more, applause filled the room.

Your eyes scanned for your father and Lucilla but you could not see them in the crowd, at least not from where you were seated. Both fighters entered the room, Vicheck looked mighty indeed, with his large stature and tall frame. Caracalla leaned closer to you again, “After that man is done with him, we might see his end.” He almost reassured you, clearly their plan was to have Hanno killed in combat, to punish him. You smiled at Caracalla and he rubbed his hands together in excitement. You took a swig of the dark red liquid to ease your wariness.

Geta leaned forward, eager to see this ‘Hannos’ end, all because the man nearly killed you. Maybe you were in too deep now... The people made sure to give the men enough space as their chains were being removed and each was given a sword. You could only hope Hanno wouldn’t try anything again, but when he noticed you, it almost seemed as if he hid some guilt in his eyes. You averted your gaze to the other man, ‘Vicheck’ and kept your eyes on him instead.

Hanno tried to negotiate with his opponent but Vicheck had something completely different in mind, as he aggressively swung his sword, their bodies met, both fought for dominance. Due to both of their strength they pushed each other around, causing men and women to jump out of their way. Hanno moved Vicheck around until he could reach for a vase and crashed it on his head, making the mighty Vicheck almost crumble to the ground.

Except, Vicheck was not so easily defeated and cut Hanno across his back, before trying to push him to the ground. Both stumbled around once more, trying to gain dominance over the other. Vicheck then successfully managed to push Hanno on his back, which made Hanno drop his sword. He was met with the hard stone floor, he grunted out and rolled to avoid the pointy end of his opponent's sword. 

Vicheck was then sadly slow to realize Hanno’s moves, when Hanno found his own sword again and plunged it right into his chest. Almost a similar strategy he had used in the arena, cheers could be heard and hands clapped as Hanno rolled Vichecks lifeless body off of him. Geta had now gained a visible vein on his forehead and Caracalla’s face was red, their plan did not work. Right as Geta was about to unleash his anger, Macrinus stepped forward. While Hanno was chained again and led out of the room.

“How unfortunate for Thraex, it seems that I have gained a home.” He smiled, before bowing to the Emperors. “It is- unfortunate.” Geta seethed. “Would you have liked a different outcome? Your majesty?” Macrinus asked, pursing his lips. Geta now just ignored him and it almost became embarrassing if Macrinus didn’t turn his attention to you. “My lady, how good to see you in our presence again.” He beamed, sickeningly fake but almost convincing.

Caracalla’s mood turned around upon hearing that. “Isn’t it!” He giggled. Geta’s smile returned at his brother's words before settling his eyes upon you. “Quite.” Geta mused. “You do a fine job at pleasing our great Emperor’s my lady, never cease.” Macrinus expressed with a smile. Now that was an offence, however the Emperors thought differently. “We are both sure she won’t.” Geta agreed, his eyes never leaving you. To keep up appearances, you did not respond, simply giving them a curt nod.

Now what Geta said did not surprise you nor unsettle you, it was how Macrinus said it. There was some hidden meaning behind it, it was then you knew, he was in fact not the man he made himself out to be. You understood there was something going on, you were not sure what or who exactly were involved in it but there must be a plot or scheme, whatever it could be, it was not good. People were now helping themselves to food and conversation.

Only when Macrinus excused himself to check on Hanno, did you feel your shoulders relax. “Does he annoy you?” Caracalla asked, hand moving up and down your arm. Like he had mere days ago. And without a doubt, it gave the desired effect, making you forget all about Macrinus and his facade. “Who, Caesar?” You shuddered. “Macrinus.” He giggled, his brother moving closer now as well. “I would not lie, perhaps he does a bit.” You smiled. 

Geta laughed at that and placed his hand on your shoulder, before giving the tense flesh a squeeze, you jerked at the muted pain. “You are so tense tonight, is it because of your father?” Geta spoke softly in your ear. “Yes, Caesar, though he means well.” You responded softly in return. Caracalla’s hand still grazed the skin of your arm, keeping his eyes on you. You noticed how Geta’s tongue darted out ever so slightly to wet his lips. “Perhaps someone should-” he took a sharp breath before he finished his sentence, “have someone loosen up your shoulders.” 

“Perhaps, your majesty.” You blushed, not just your cheeks reddened but your entire body felt hot as the twins ‘caressed’ you. They did a good job at keeping it somewhat innocent but their intent was clear for all to see. It could be the wine but you wanted nothing more than to be alone with them right now, just to see how far they would take it. Would they have their way with you or keep it somewhat respectful?

You almost unwillingly leaned into their touch. Caracalla’s face coming closer to your neck, his restraint was close to breaking. You were right next to him, looking the way you looked and smelling the way you smelt. Geta too, was growing impatient and thought about commanding everyone to leave so they could finally take you. But he kept himself from doing so, his hand moving from your shoulder to your leg.

These new sensations you felt and these new boundaries being crossed did unnerve you a bit, but this feeling that drew you to them overpowered it and when you took another sip of your wine, you felt that you needed to relieve yourself. “I apologise, your majesties. But could I have a Praetorian show me to the lavatory? I had a bit too much wine, I promise I will be right back. I wouldn’t miss out on our...fun.” You smiled, empty cup in hand.

“Of course my lady, no need to apologise.” Geta said as he took hold of your hand and kissed it. “Guards! Show my Lady to the private lavatory. If she comes to harm, I will have your heads.” Geta sneered, to which two Praetorians stepped forward and bowed. You stood from your seat and Caracalla took your empty wine cup to hand to a servant. Before you made your way out of the room, you curtseyed, now with a smile. 

When you reached the private lavatory, a few halls away from the entertainment room, you went about your business before emerging again. However the guards were gone and you were met with your fathers furious gaze. “I thought we had agreed on something.” He spat out. “There is no reason for you to blame me for this- I had no choice! They commanded me, what was I supposed to do? Refuse them? I couldn’t!” You didn’t even realise you were shouting with how rapidly your fury rose. 

“You could! That is the point! They like you and you have that power! You know my- my concern about this, I am losing control over you!” Acacius just as loudly yelled back, he too was long his composure and patience. “Of course! Now you care! But why would you?! You go off to war for years leaving me alone after my mother just died and then you decide to remarry and not even take me with you! But of course now that I visit you and finally have fun and feel happy, now you care?!” Your screams echoed through the marble halls.

“I kept you there for your own safety as I have explained countless times! You won’t listen and now you meddle with the most dangerous men because I didn’t pay enough attention to you! A-” He got cut off for but a moment. “How!-” You screamed, but Acacius stopped you quickly. “No! You listen to me! You are the one thing! The one thing I have left of your mother! I will not lose you because of your recklessness!” 

That shut you up but your anger did not subside one bit. Acacius turned red when he realised how loud the two of you had been, his voice now lower, “When you have calmed down, you return and we will leave, you’ve had enough wine. You’re just a girl, start acting like one.” He did not leave room for any more argument and headed back to the banquet. 

Fury clouded your mind and you felt the wine mess with your common sense. Just as you were about to head back towards the entertainment hall, you spotted him. Macrinus. With alcohol flowing through your veins you made a decision, whether or not it was good, you would decide later. But you had to act now, if you wanted to find out who Macrinus really was. And so you quietly followed him as he was clearly not returning to the entertainment hall himself.

After every corner he turned you casually ‘hid’ behind it so as to not grow suspicion among the littered guards. Luckily they did not know who you were. You followed Macrinus until he disappeared behind a smaller door, you felt a moment of regret and dread but curiosity took over once more and you made your decision. When you opened the door, Macrinus seemed to have disappeared outside, the door was apparently a servant's entrance into and out of the palace. 

You hurriedly moved among the crowd, until you spotted his blue robes again and set after it. Making sure to somewhat blend in, you successfully followed Macrinus to his estate. It wasn’t something to be proud of, but you still felt pride swell in your chest. Using the same door he used, unguarded, you made your way inside his estate until he entered a different room, fortunately for you, with no closed doors. 

You stayed right outside and could hear another man arrive through a different entrance to what seemed to be a lounging room. “Macrinus, you’re already here!” The man exclaimed, he seemed to have his fill of wine already. “Yes, yes, I know all I need to know.” Macrinus laughed, it sent a shiver up your spine. “Oh? Well do tell me!” The man sputtered. “Now now, I can’t go around telling my secrets now can I?” Macrinus responded, you heard how their cups collided in familiarity.

“So I heard you spoke with Lucilla?” The man asked. “I did. And I do have to say, I need some clarification.” Macrinus replied. “What about?” The man grunted, seeming to now have sat down. You decided one little peek around the corner couldn’t hurt, but when you did, you quickly turned back, almost getting caught in the process. “She had a child?” Macrinus asked the man. 

“Hm. It's common knowledge. When Commodus was killed, the boy disappeared. But who would care?” The man laughed, sipping on wine, his slurps filling the room. “Lucilla would care!” Macrinus exclaimed. “He was of the royal bloodline after all. And his father?” Macrinus continued. “Ostensibly, Lucius Verus. See, it was an arranged marriage, she was fourteen. Females were not his taste.” The man explained. Your face contorted in disgust.

“Nor mine some days!” Macrinus laughed. “Nor yours!” The man joined. “What about General Acacius’ daughter, she seems well liked by the Emperors?” The man then asked Macrinus. “Yes quite, which is perfect. She can keep them nice and distracted.” Macrinus responded. That’s when you almost lost your composure, having to keep as quiet as possible. 

“That’s good, perhaps I will see you on the throne some day!” The man laughed. You heard enough, his plot was now clear. He fed into your ‘meetings’ with the Emperors to prepare some sort of bigger plan. But now, you had to get away. And so you turned on your heel, the wine still on your tongue. You also had to remember where you came from, which proved to be difficult when you were slightly inebriated and it was dark. 

You turned corners and explored hallways until you stumbled into the wrong one, three guards straightened up at the sight of you. “Who are you?” One of them asked with caution. You had only two choices, to lie or to run and you knew you could not run in sandals. “I apologise for the late hour, I am here to see Macrinus, it’s quite- personal. He knows who I am but he doesn’t know I’m here. Could you- bring me to him?” You asked as innocently as possible.

Now you didn’t know if it was your way of words or expensive robes but the guards complied and led you to the same room you were spying on Macrinus mere moments earlier. Was it stupid to have to come up in a short amount of time with a lie as to why you were here, all alone, in the darkness? Yes absolutely, but you had no choice, so you picked the first thing that came to mind. The Emperors.  

“My lord, this Lady is here to see you.” The shortest guard announced before leaving you alone with him. Macrinus turned around, the man had left already. “Well what a surprise! Come in child, come in.” Macrinus gestured for you to sit beside him, it made you uneasy but you pushed your feelings aside. You could tell he was confused and a bit suspicious but he clearly chose to keep quiet. “I know that it is late, and I apologise but- I feel like you are the only one who I can talk to about this.” You said as sweetly as possible.

That piqued his interest. “Oh? How so?” Macrinus asked. “Any time I- talk to my father about- well- the Emperors, he gets uncomfortable. And I just wanted to ask someone who knows them well. This might be silly but I feel like I can trust you.” His face lit up at your words. “I understand, what can I help you with, my Lady?” Macrinus’ brows furrowed. “I merely wish to know, would- would the Emperors or rather- one of them, perhaps marry one day?” Macrinus’ smile grew and he seemed to relax more.

“Of course my Lady, why do you ask?” Macrinus replied. “No specific reason, I should probably- not further speak about this, I’m so sorry for disturbing you.” You apologised kindly. “It’s quite alright, however- does anyone know you’re here?” Your face fell at his words, no they did not, not at all.

“She is taking quite long isn’t she?” Caracalla asked his brother. It had been some time now and you had not returned. “Let me inquire the guards.” Geta responded flatly. Caracalla slumped back into the settee, the music was boring to listen to without you by his side. But  the whole room quieted down as screaming echoed through the halls. “HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?! YOU HAD ONE JOB! NOW SHE'S GONE?!” Geta’s screaming voice came closer, Acacius now stepping towards the other Emperor. 

“YOU ARE ALL DEAD!” Geta screamed as he returned to the entertainment hall, the guards following behind him. Caracalla shot up from his seat as Geta approached him. “They fucking lost her! They lost her and now she is missing!” Geta yelled, spitting out as he threw his cup of wine against the wall. “What do you mean your majesty?” Acacius asked, his voice just as pale as his face.

“Your daughter is missing! That is what he means!” Caracalla was now screaming too, panic clearly taking over. Acacius’ eyes widened and Lucilla joined his side. “How is this possible?” She tried to calmly ask. “I- I fought with her, just before she was to return here. I dismissed the guards so I could talk to her privately which resulted in the fight. I- I told her to calm down before coming back- but she did not return, I hadn’t realised.” Acacius’ voice almost trembled.

“HOW COULD YOU LEAVE HER?! HOW?!” Caracalla screamed, getting in the guards’ faces, everyone around them lowered their gaze. “I want a thousand Praetorians now! March them through Rome! Search every house! She cannot be far!” Geta shrieked. Acacius followed Geta as he marched out of the room, Caracalla following behind.

“Oh no- I didn’t even realise. I’m going to be in so much trouble.” Your realisation however was very much real and so was the panic that surged through you. “Do not worry, I will take you back and all will be well.” Macrinus exclaimed. “Come, let us not make them worry more.” He said as he rose from his seat. You followed behind him as he ordered a handful of guards to accompany the two of you.

The streets of Rome were now quiet as you and Macrinus made your way back to the palace, it was not far from his estate. But when you got closer, Praetorians on horses as well as on foot marched through the street, shouting orders at civilians who stood sleepily in their doorway. “I am going to guess that’s for you.” Macrinus mused. You dreaded what was to come. Macrinus and you approached the hoard of guards. “I am assuming you are looking for General Acacius’ daughter?” Macrinus asked. “We found her!”

[shy-writer-999]

Omg so for the Christmas event maybe an NSFW x reader fic with Crocodile where he gifts her a baby banana gator 🥺

yes!! here it is, a Crocodile + a cute baby gator present one-shot! sorry this took so long 😭😭🫶 it's a bit fluffly, too? i just felt kind of in a fluffy mood with this one, and i feel like he could be very sweet sometimes. ~1250 words!

CW: afab reader, G/N language! sex! a teeny bit of choking? (just a whiff...) dirty talk, making out. nsfw content, minors dni please!

Sir Crocodile's Christmas Present

You used to think that Sir Crocodile (‘Croc’, as you called him) wasn’t one for gifts or affection. He was hard to read sometimes—even after all the time you spent together, you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. You knew he was fond of you when he started using pet names, when he put his arm around you in bed, and placed kisses on your forehead. But this year’s Christmas solidified it for you.

His present to you was heart-meltingly sweet—a baby banana gator, your favorite type, and he even gave it a little sweater, too. You were taken aback. You knew he had a soft spot for you but this much of a soft spot?

“How can I ever say thank you enough?” You smiled and leaned up on your tippy toes to place a kiss on his lips. That hard exterior of his seemed to crumble any time you were around.

After the brief kiss, his response was gruff and short. “You don’t need to.”

“But I want to,” you responded and went for another kiss. He placed his hands on your waist and leaned in, meeting your lips halfway.

When he pulled away from you, his voice was raspy and deep. “Then I’ll allow it. Just this once.”

Crocodile had an air of seriousness always, but whenever you were around he felt a bit... giddy, thanking his lucky stars that you, of all people, were the person who spent the most time with him.

He picked you up and carried you to your bed. Sitting down on it, he made you straddle him.

"I can't get enough of you," you murmured and he hummed in agreement, bringing his hands to your hips and squeezing tightly.

You wasted no time, starting to rub yourself on him ever so slightly. Crocodile tried to keep back a smile. While this wasn’t necessarily his goal when he gave you that sweet present, he certainly wasn’t going to say no to any attention you were going to give him. Your affection was his guilty pleasure.

Moments passed, and it felt like his hands were everywhere. They crept downwards to grab strong, rough handfuls of your thighs, hips, and ass; then they snuck under the hem of your shirt and up towards your chest.

Every grind of your hips was met with a quiet groan from the man underneath you.

“I can’t take this anymore,” he grunted, voice thick and strained. In one swift motion, Crocodile picked you up by the waist again and flipped you onto the bed. He was on top now, pulling off your clothes first and then his, getting ready to spoil you with the affection you so tenderly showed him.

First, he traced his lips across your collarbone, brushing them up your neck and back down again to trace soft patterns over your breasts. He was being gentle with you, treating you like you were precious (something he was very good at). His lips found one of your nipples and he sucked softly, running his tongue in circles, eliciting goosebumps across your skin and quiet gasps.

Resting on your waist, the metal of his hook was initially cold. It warmed up slowly from contact with your skin, and as he got more worked up, he pressed it into your side more, until it was almost painful.

You could see in his eyes that he was about to completely let go. It had been a while, too, so you knew he was extra pent up.

“I need you,” he groaned quietly, pulling you into a kiss as his hand snuck downwards to run his fingers softly along your aching core.

Crocodile spent some time caressing your folds, petting your sensitive spots until you were dripping wet and needy for him. When you looked at him eagerly, nodded, and whined softly, he lined himself up with your entrance and pushed inside of you slowly.

He was ridiculously big—you already knew that, of course, but every time he did this to you it felt like he was stretching you out, filling you up in the most delicious way.

As he rocked his hips slowly, his hair came down in little cascades, shifting as he moved back and forth. Each movement from him was met with sparks of euphoric pleasure, causing you to squirm just barely.

He picked up the pace, getting faster with each thrust.

“Fuck,” he grunted, rolling into you with increased desperation. “Take it, just like that. Feels so f-fucking good.”

Crocodile reached a hand under one of your thighs, pushing it up so he could get an even deeper angle. The strength with which he pressed into you was overwhelming—you could tell you were going to be sore after this. Very sore.

“Say it,” he gasped, furrowing his brows in concentration.

You knew immediately what he was referring to. One of the things that surprised you about him, when you first became intimate, was that he got off when you called him “Sir.”

He could remember (and often did remember, when he touched himself) the first time you addressed him so formally. “Sir Crocodile,” you had said, nodding politely and bowing slightly. The memory of that first encounter made his cock twitch. It was in that moment that he knew he had to make you his.

“Say it,” he demanded again, bringing his hook up to your throat and pressing lightly into the flesh of your neck. He didn’t have any intention of hurting you. But he knew you liked the thrill of the metal on your throat.

“Sir—” you moaned, reaching up for one of his arms and digging your nails into his biceps. “Fuck, Sir C-crocodile, faster.”

He obliged, and the new pace felt so good that you knew you were going to cum soon. If you had to tap out before he orgasmed, you knew he wouldn’t mind—he was just as partial to your lips wrapped around his shaft.

Crocodile could tell you were getting close by the way your eyes started to flutter and the way your grip around his arm got tighter.

“Taking it so good for me,” he groaned. He knew that the dirty talk, the praise, would send you over the edge. He wasn’t the most verbose with his praise or affection outside of the bedroom (he was actually a bit shy, much to your surprise), so it was very precious to you.

A well placed, deep moan right in your ear sent you careening into orgasm like he wanted. His eyes drank up the sight of your orgasm greedily and with self-satisfaction—he wasn’t too preoccupied with his own climax, too busy watching the way your chest rose and fall with each pant, the way that your eyes rolled, and your mouth hung open in a pretty O-shape.

When you were finished, Crocodile pulled you and laid next to you, completely satisfied.

You nuzzled up next to him and he put his arm around you, just like you adored. He looked particularly handsome—his hair was messed up and ruffled, his face was glowy with a thin sheen of sweat, and his cheeks were dusted with rosy blush. It was very becoming.

“So, what are you going to name it?” Crocodile broke the silence, and you looked up at him from where you were nestled in his arms.

“Hmmm. How about Baby Croc?”

He tsked and cocked his head. “You can’t be serious. Surely, there’s another option you can choose.”

“I guess I need to think it over some more. But in the meantime, what are we going to do?”

Crocodile rolled his eyes. You were predictable. Already itching to go for round two and you had barely rested for five minutes.

"If you insist." His tone was flat but you could see a sparkle in his eyes. He could be as stoic and seemingly aloof as he wanted, but you knew that deep down inside, he was so tickled and thankful to spend any time with you. It seemed like you really liked your Christmas present--mission accomplished.

ok now what are we naming the gator?? tysm for reading as always <3 and thank you sam @walmartmihawk for the request and patience 🫶🫶

[theballadofharkness]

Housewarming Part 2

Part 1

Pairing: Agatha Harkness X fem!reader

Summary: After the housewarming is over, you have the opportunity to discover just what Agatha said to Jen and show Agatha just how much you belong to her 💜

Word Count: 3.3K

Warnings: smut warning, fingering and oral (Agatha receiving) and some hurt/comfort!

A/N: this is my first written smut so some feedback would be hugely appreciated my loves 💜🪻 and as always MDNI

The quiet of the room was intoxicating, the kind of calm that only came after the chaos of a party. Agatha’s house had emptied out hours ago, the last of the coven members waving their goodbyes and leaving behind a feeling of emptiness that only Agatha could fill. You lay next to her, nestled in the warmth of her arms. The bed was softer than you remembered, and the weight of Agatha’s presence next to you was like a protective shield. You still couldn’t quite believe you were here in her bed, now your bed, wrapped in her arms. You had moved in mere hours ago, something that still felt like a dream in moments like this. It was still a little strange to think of this as home, but with Agatha beside you, everything felt... right.

But there was something nagging at the back of your mind, something you had sensed but hadn’t quite been able to put into words. Agatha had been quieter than usual since the party, her playful teasing had been replaced with something more introspective and you could feel her usual confidence slip beneath the surface.

You shifted a little closer to her, humming softly as she stroked your cheek, you lifted your fingers to trace the veins of her hand where it rested against you. "Agatha," you murmured, your voice soft, "what exactly did you say to Jennifer before she left?"

The way Agatha tensed immediately let you know you’d hit on something. Her gaze flickered briefly toward the ceiling, and for a moment, her lips quirked into that trademark, wry smile. But it didn’t reach her eyes.

"What did you hear?" she asked, her voice low and almost teasing, but there was an edge to it, a quiet tension beneath the words.

You bit your lip, hesitating for a moment. You hadn’t meant to make her feel uncomfortable, but the question had been eating at you. "I don’t know, just... the way they looked at me when they were leaving. And when you spoke to Jen before she left… It didn’t seem like the kind of conversation you’d want overheard."

Her expression shifted. Her eyes narrowed, her jaw set in a way that was unmistakable.

Agatha’s lips quirked into that knowing smile she was so famous for, but there was a sharpness in her gaze now, something possessive. "You noticed that, did you?" She sat up, her posture shifting, an edge to her voice that made your heart skip. "Well, I overheard them too."

You lifted your head, your brows furrowing. "What did they say?"

Agatha paused, when she finally spoke, it was slow, deliberate, as if weighing the words. "They were talking about you, sweetheart," she said, her tone shifting into something possessive. "Said you were beautiful, sweet... said someone like you could have anyone. They wished they could have seduced you before I had a chance to”

Your eyes widened in shock as you felt a flutter in your chest. You had no idea that Jen and Alice felt that way about you, and you certainly hadn't encouraged them. But before you could respond, Agatha continued.

"They said that a young witch as gorgeous and sweet as you would eventually leave me for someone younger," Agatha said, her voice dripping with venom at the sour memory. "That you would eventually get bored and leave me. They were pretty sure of it, actually."

Your stomach twisted, a rush of protectiveness sweeping over you as your heart ached hearing her say those words. They cut deeper than you’d expected. You knew Agatha had a reputation, a history, and you knew she’d suffered because of it. You knew that her past with Rio and Wanda—both messy and broken in their own ways—had left scars on her heart that she never fully acknowledged. But hearing this, hearing that someone else thought you’d abandon her, hit harder than you’d realised.

"What? How could they think that?" you asked, frowning. "I’d never leave you, Agatha."

She leaned back against the headboard, her fingers absently drawing circles on your skin. "They don’t know you like I do," she said, her voice a little quieter now, less cocky, more reflective. There was a flicker of something vulnerable beneath her words, though she quickly masked it. "But I can’t help but wonder... maybe they’re right. Maybe someone like you... someone with so much life ahead of them... maybe I’m not enough."

"Agatha, there's nothing on earth that would stop me from loving you or wanting you," you said sincerely. "You're the center of my universe now, and I couldn't imagine being with anyone else."

Agatha's expression softened slightly at your words. It was rare to see her so uncertain, so vulnerable. Usually, she exuded confidence and self-assurance like it was second nature to her. But when it came to love, she was anything but. Agatha’s past relationships with Rio and Wanda had been difficult- complicated- and though she never admitted it, you knew they’d left scars. The way she’d been burned by those who couldn’t give her the kind of love she deserved made her protective of what she had now. And, in that moment, she was worried that, despite everything, you would slip away from her too.

You sat up, crawling into her lap so you could meet her gaze, refusing to let her hide behind her usual defences. "Agatha," you began, your voice firm with affection, "there’s nobody who could make me feel the way you do. You are enough. You’ve always been enough."

Agatha’s gaze softened slightly, but she didn’t speak right away. She looked away for a moment, as though considering your words, and you saw her shoulders relax, just a bit. Still, there was a trace of insecurity in her eyes, something that wasn’t easy for her to admit. You reached out, gently cupping her chin to make her meet your gaze again.

"I’m not some innocent young girl," Agatha said, her voice a little rougher now, like she was trying to convince herself of something. "I’m old, I’ve had my share of heartbreak, I’ve seen people leave, seen people betray me. Wanda… she never truly cared about me. And Rio? Well, that was a mess from the start. I always knew that, even if I didn’t want to admit it. You, though… You’re different. I know you could have anyone, and I know I’m not perfect. I’ve…” Her voice trailed off, and she blinked a few times, a flicker of something painful crossing her features “I’ve done some awful things."

You felt your heart break for her. You knew Agatha was strong, and you knew she never let anyone see her vulnerabilities. But right now, she was showing you a side of herself she rarely let anyone see. A side that wanted to be wanted, wanted to be loved in a way that didn’t end in pain.

You smiled gently, stroking her hair back from her face. “Agatha Harkness, I love you more than anything. No one could ever make me feel the way you do. No one could love me the way you do. You’re perfect just the way you are. Fuck the past, the only thing I care about is making you smile because you’re the person I want to wake up to for the rest of my life till the day I die. And nothing, and I mean nothing, will ever make me leave you. Not even death could take me away”

Agatha’s lips parted, as if she wanted to say something, but she was quiet for a moment, taking in your words. You saw the glint of doubt in her eyes, but you also saw something else- something that made you realise how deeply she needed to hear this. How much she needed to believe it. She had built so many walls around herself, but all it took was you, here, with her, to begin breaking them down.

Agatha’s eyes flickered down to your lips, then back to your eyes, searching for something. "I know you love me," she said softly, her tone low, almost hesitant. "But the last time I trusted someone, I lost them. And I... I don’t want to lose you."

You could hear the pain in her voice, the rawness beneath her confident exterior. Agatha was strong, but she had been hurt- deeply. Her power, her dominance, her unwavering authority- they all hid the vulnerability that lay beneath. And right now, that vulnerability was splayed out raw before you.

"Agatha," you whispered, your hand gently cupping her cheek again, pulling her closer. "I’m not going anywhere. I promise. You’re everything to me. You don’t have to worry about losing me. I’m not like them."

Her eyes searched yours, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. Then, Agatha’s lips parted, and she pulled you towards her, her hands firm on your waist as she pressed her forehead to yours. You could feel the weight of her emotions in the air between you. The need for reassurance, the desperate desire for you to understand just how much she needed you.

Agatha’s hand slid around the back of your neck, her thumb caressing the sensitive skin there. She pulled you closer still , her lips hovering just above yours, her breath warm against your face. “I want to hear you say it,” she murmured, her voice hushed, almost possessive. “Tell me you belong to me.”

You smiled, a flutter of warmth spreading through your chest at the thought of Agatha seeking that reassurance from you. “I belong to you, Agatha. Only you. Forever.”

"Prove it," she murmured, her voice low but edged with that familiar cocky confidence that, despite everything, was still part of her. "Show me you’re mine."

You smiled softly, your heart swelling with affection. You hadn’t needed to be asked. You leaned forward, trailing soft kisses down her jaw, taking your time which was too much time in Agatha’s opinion. You stop your trail of kisses just shy of her lips, nuzzling the tip of your nose against hers. You smile as you feel Agatha cup your jaw and press your lips against hers. The kiss begins slow and sweet as a silent promise of forever, but quickly becomes more heated. You moan desperately against her as her tongue invades your mouth to try and taste every part of you. You wrap your arms around her neck to pull her impossibly close as her fingers dig into your hips, hard enough crescent bruises in their wake. She catches your bottom lip with her teeth, making you whine and roll your hips down against her.

When you finally pulled back, panting into each other's mouths, Agatha’s eyes were softer, warmer, but there was still a trace of that possessiveness there, that desire to keep you all to herself. You saw it, and you welcomed it. You were hers to command, to guide, but it was clear she was yours too. Completely.

"I’m yours, Agatha," you whispered, your hand caressing the side of her face. "Only you. Forever."

Agatha’s lips curled into that sly, knowing smile. The same smile that had once made everyone in the room quiver, but now, it was just for you. "That’s what I like to hear," she said, her voice more confident now. "You belong to me baby. And I’m not letting you go.” she added, her eyes studying you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. Her words were both possessive and tender, a declaration that made your heart race.

“I belong to you, Agatha,” you whispered back, your voice steady with conviction. “Only you. Always.”

Agatha’s fingers dug gently into the fabric of your shirt as if she needed to ground herself in the reality of your words. She pulled back slightly, her dark eyes searching yours, looking for something, perhaps some final sign that you truly meant it.

Her lips found yours again, in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, like a promise. A promise that no matter what doubts plagued her, you were hers. The kiss deepened, but it wasn’t rushed this time. Agatha wasn’t in a hurry. She savoured it, as though needing to imprint this moment, this connection, into her soul.

When she pulled away, her lips brushed softly against your neck, the gentle touch of her breath sending a shiver down your spine. “I can’t lose you,” she said, her voice a quiet murmur. “You’re everything to me.”

You smiled, your fingers lightly trailing along her jawline. “You won’t,” you promised. “I’ll never leave you, Agatha. You have my heart.”

Her expression softened, and for a brief moment, all that lingering doubt seemed to fade away. You saw the woman beneath the confident, domineering witch—the one who longed to love and be loved without fear of rejection

"Prove it," she whispered suddenly, a sly smirk spreading across her lips.

You raised an eyebrow at her challenge but couldn't help but feel drawn into the game she was playing. Your lips met in a fierce kiss once more, addicted to the taste of one another, the air around you igniting with passion as Agatha began to take control. You melted into her touch, your lips parting to allow her tongue to claim yours. The kiss was deep and possessive, leaving no doubt as to who was in control here. You felt a shiver run down your spine as Agatha's hands roamed over your body, claiming every inch of skin as her own.

As you broke apart for a breath, chest heaving with exertion, Agatha’s eyes filled with a hunger that couldn't be denied as she whispered a soft command, "be a good girl and take care of me."

You nodded eagerly, feeling a surge of desire mixed with anticipation. You'd done this before, many times, but it never got old. You loved the way Agatha tasted, the way she responded to your touch. You gently nudged Agatha back onto the pillows, your mouth tracing a path down Agatha's neck, over her collarbone, and down to her breasts.

Agatha's hands wandered through your hair as she felt the soft caress of your lips on her skin. Her nipples hardened under the gentle touch, and she arched her back slightly, inviting more.

You continued your trail of kisses down Agatha's body, her fingers dancing over Agatha's hips and abdomen before coming to rest at the edge of her pubic bone. With a tender glance up at Agatha, you removed her purple lace panties, taking your time to run a finger through her wet folds, humming softly as you nuzzled closer between her thighs to taste the sweetness of her pussy.

In tune with Agatha’s body as ever, you silently answer her plea for more, you slip two fingers inside of her, humming contentedly against her sex as your fingers explore inside. You crook your fingers up and soon your lover is seeing stars as you press into that familiar spongy spot inside of her.

“That’s it baby, you’re doing so good for me," Agatha praised breathily, her long fingers threading through your hair to keep you exactly where she needed you.

Her praise given freely and wantonly lit a fire under you to have her teetering on the edge, your tongue sucking on her clit and your fingers doubled their efforts fucking in and out of her, hitting that perfect spot every time. Agatha whined pathetically as you removed your fingers, your tongue going from flicking over her bundle of nerves to teasing her hole.

“Shit- that’s it baby… fuck.. taste me, good girl that’s my good fucking girl” she babbled incoherently.

You barely registered her praise as you drowned in the taste of your lover, your thumb finding its way to her clit. Agatha’s back arched off the bed, hips cantering against your face as she lets out a loud and filthy moan. You could help but smile against her, gleeful that you had this kind of effect on Agatha.

“Fuck I love you” she gasped.

You pulled back from her pussy just enough to whimper back “Love you Aggie” before diving back down to run your tongue flat from her hole up to her sensitive bundle of nerves, moaning against her as her fingers tighten their grip on your hair.

It was after a particularly harsh suck of her clit that Agatha tugged your hair to pull your head back as her body twitched in overstimulation. “Shit baby” she panted softly, gazing down lovingly as you beamed up at her.

Her grin is feral as she pulls you up from between her thighs to capture your lips with hers. She licks into your mouth and moans as she tastes herself. Breaking away for air, you blush when you notice you’d smeared her slick on her own face. You reach over and wipe it away with your thumb, an act so soft compared to the filthy kiss you had just shared.

"You did so good for me," Agatha praised softly. Agatha let out a soft hum, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips before murmuring, “I love you, babygirl.”

You felt warmth bloom in your chest, a familiar ache that always came when she spoke to you like that- soft, reverent, as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

“I love you too,” you whispered, nestling yourself in her embrace.

She tightened her arms around you, her chin resting atop your head. “I can’t wait to start our life together. Waking up with you every morning, coming home to you every night… Just knowing you’re mine, here, always.”

You smiled, feeling your heart flutter at the thought. It was real now, you and her, together. No more separate spaces, no more longing at the end of the night when one of you had to leave. Just the two of you, one home, one life, entwined.

“Well,” you murmured, voice tinged with amusement, “we’ll see how you feel tomorrow when we finish unpacking the rest of my stuff.”

Agatha chuckled, the sound deep and rich, vibrating through your body where you lay against her. “Oh, kitten,” she said, pulling you even closer, “I’ve faced ancient magic, rival witches, and unspeakable horrors, but something tells me this might be my greatest challenge yet.”

You giggled softly, the sound muffled against her skin. “Told you.”

She sighed dramatically, but her lips found your forehead, lingering there in quiet devotion. “Doesn’t matter,” she murmured against your skin. “You’re worth it. Every single bit of it.”

Your heart clenched at her words, at the sincerity woven through them. You turned your face up to hers, pressing a soft kiss to her jaw before whispering, “Always?”

She looked down at you, eyes dark and filled with something fierce and eternal. “Forever, my love.”

[schrijverr]

I Didn’t Mean to Say I Do, but I Do. I Do. 43

Chapter 43 out of 50

Secret marriage of convenience buddie slow burn AU, where Buck and Eddie have been married for years so Buck could adopt Chris and no one at the 118 knows.

In this chapter, Eddie begins to work through his internalized homophobia with Bosko, unsure what if he can go home. He doesn’t know how. Buck is trying to keep Chris’s spirits up as they wait for him to find peace with himself and find his way back. To just talk to Buck again.

On AO3.

Ships: Buddie

Warnings: internalized homophobia, insecurity

~~~

Chapter 43: The First Step Is Admitting It

Bosko sits with Eddie as he cries for the life he wants and partially has, but that was never his to keep. It feels like he’s crying for hours. His head hurts and his eyes are aching and puffy. It’s very not charming and he’s glad he doesn’t have to go into work tomorrow, because he’s not sure how to explain the traces of tears that are bound to still be visible then.

She softly tells him that it’s okay, that he is allowed to love Buck, that he’s not failing him or anything else he’s internalized.

“I know it doesn’t feel like it, because I didn’t think so either, but you’re going to be okay. You’re good too. You’re allowed to feel all the things people told you you’re not supposed to. You’re allowed to exist, Eddie. You’re allowed to be you,” she says intently as she shakes him lightly to make her sure her words sink in.

It’s the first time anyone has ever told him that so bluntly, he thinks. Buck made him feel like that, Chris too, but no one else ever did. Papi doesn’t like who he is, mom certainly doesn’t and he’s pretty sure Shannon stopped liking him the moment she got to know him better, but by then it was already too late.

Eddie has felt shame for as long as he can remember. It clings to him like a second skin and trying to believe what Bosko is saying, feels like skinning himself.

He’s a mess.

At some point, he stops crying, just retreats into himself. Bosko leads him to the couch and he curls into himself, while she makes them some tea. Mayo still hates his fucking guts (and he can’t blame her), but Butter nudges his arm until he lets him sit on his lap, cuddling into him as he mindlessly buries his hands in his fur.

Bosko comes back with two mugs, handing one to Eddie, before plopping down next to him on the couch. He takes it with a mumbled thanks, feeling a bit embarrassed about his breakdown. She must notice, because she says: “If it makes you feel any better, I cried all over Ronnie and he’s my Captain.”

Eddie shudders at the thought of ever letting Bobby see more than a glimpse of this side of him. He could have gone to the others maybe, but Chimney truly can’t keep a secret to save his life and Hen… Well, she’s nice and he trusts her. Maybe he could have gone to Hen, but she would have tried to help and he couldn’t have accepted that. Plus, she is just as nosy as Chimney is. They all are, honestly.

He loves them, but this would not have stayed personal. The only person he would have trusted is Buck and he can’t exactly go to Buck about this, now can he?

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, suddenly overcome by gratitude. “I know I’ve been a dick, so thanks for still being here.”

“Yeah, you are a bit of a dick, but I like you anyway,” Bosko says with a smile. “And Butter likes you, so you’ve been vouched for.”

“Mayo hates me, though,” Eddie points out, though he feels slightly better about it anyway.

“Mayo hates everybody,” Bosko laughs and Eddie manages to laugh too.

They drink their tea in silence, both letting the comfortable moment wash over them. After a while, Bosko breaks the silence by asking: “So, I know bits and pieces, but how did you come to marry Buck when you’ve only just realized you love him and kind of spiraled about it? Wouldn’t you have spiraled before?”

“I mean, I guess I should have, but it was never like that,” Eddie sighs. “I always swatted the thought away, because it wasn’t like that, I wasn’t like that. People who commented didn’t have the whole story anyway and I’m not homophobic, why should I care what people think even if they’re wrong, you know?”

Bosko snorts, then says: “Sorry, too soon?”

Somehow, it’s kind of comforting, so he grins: “Nah, not too soon.”

“Good, because that is hilarious, Diaz,” Bosko laughs.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh at my pain,” Eddie faux-complains.

“I’m allowed, I put up with your shit,” she informs him happily. “Anyway, you never answered the first part. How did you two end up married? With a kid, no less.”

And Eddie just tells her. He’s been struggling with thinking about how the two of them came together, didn’t even want to hear about it, but now it comes pouring out. He’s let himself look his past in the eyes, openly and honestly, has let himself think about Buck and has acknowledged that he loves him. He said it out loud and there has only been kindness in return, even if it’s mixed in with Bosko laughing at him.

So, he tells her about a young teen desperate to prove something, though he never knew why. How that got a girl pregnant and how that girl always knew he didn’t love her and how he ran instead of trying to love her, because on some level he knew that too. How they divorced and how she moved on and how he was secretly glad, but also didn’t want to face it, until he was forced to face it, because she ran just like he did.

He tells her how he came face to face with Buck and for the first time, how it felt like someone believed in him, like he knew what he was doing. How Buck is his first friend, his first actual friend. One, who stayed by his side and didn’t run when it would have been easier. How he only got closer and closer, until Eddie didn’t know how to live without him.

As he talks, Bosko listens closely, nodding along and making noises to show she’s still listening.

The mood drops as he finishes off: “So, yeah, uhm, that’s how we got here. And now I fucked it up and he probably hates me and I’d be lucky if he even wants to be my coworker anymore. I’m gonna have to leave the 118 when he is good to work again. Think the 136 wants me back?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Bosko says, swatting at him lightly.

“What?” Eddie exclaims. “I’m not being an idiot. Didn’t you hear what I just told you? I’ve been creepily in love with him and forcing him to stay married to me for years and now I’ve abandoned him for weeks. Of course he hates me now.”

“He didn’t want to divorce you, dumbass. The two of you literally fought because he didn’t want to divorce you and he’s picked you over and over again. Didn’t you just say he always stayed by your side and didn’t run even if it would have been easier?” she reminds him. “You’ve been going through something, figuring yourself out is fucking hard. If you tell him, he’ll get it. You two can work through this.”

“Then I have to tell him, I can never do that,” Eddie immediately says.

“Because then he’ll know you were ‘creepily in love with him and forcing him to stay married to you’?” she checks, looking mightily unimpressed.

“Yeah! Exactly.”

“Eddie, it is homophobic to say that.”

“No, it’s not,” Eddie frowns. “It’s true that it’s creepy to be close to someone when you have a crush on them and think things about them while they don’t know.”

Bosko pinches her nose and curses under her breath, before straightening herself back out and looking at Eddie again. “Okay, let me phrase it like this; was it creepy for Chimney to befriend Maddie, even though he liked her?”

“I mean, I guess not, but that’s different, he didn’t marry her.”

“Forget about the being married for a second,” Bosko groans. “You and Buck are friends, right?” He nods. “You got married as friends and you’ve only ever acted as friends, correct?” He nods again. “And you’ve never made an advance on Buck that was unwelcome, just thought about how great he was and how you wanted to kiss him and shit.”

“Don’t say it like that.” Eddie blushes heavily. “And of course not! I don’t want to do anything he doesn’t want me to.”

“Then pray tell, how it is creepy that you are friends with a guy, who wants to be your friend, by the way, and how that is any different from Chimney and Maddie?” Bosko asks.

Eddie thinks about it for a moment, then realization dawns on him: “Oh my god, it was homophobic.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” Bosko repeats, this time less ‘I told you so’ about it. “Homophobia is a bitch, internalized homophobia especially. It’s gonna take a while until you can stop that.”

“Internalized homophobia?” Eddie says confused. She used the term before, but he’d been focused on other things then. Now, it registers and he has no clue what she means by it.

“Oh shit, you truly are a baby-baby gay,” Bosko says, slightly horrified. Eddie also doesn’t know what that means, so she spends some time explaining both terms to him, as well as expanding on internalized homophobia with some examples about her own life.

Eddie feels uncomfortably seen by her and it begins to settle in what it means for him, now that he has accepted he loves Buck. Now that he’s no longer running. The things he has to get used to and work through.

“I don’t think I’m ready to go home yet,” he confesses softly. “I- I can’t- I need to process all this, before I can face him.”

“Okay,” Bosko nods simply.

“Okay?” Eddie repeats, unsure if he heard right. He expected her to push back, push him to face Buck like she’s done for most of the evening.

“Yeah, okay,” she confirms. “Processing all this can be a lot and with your complicated mess of feelings and life, I’m not going to force you to live a domestic life with your crush when doing that pushed you to start punching people. You can stay on my couch until you’re ready.”

“Thank you so much,” Eddie says gratefully, so relieved she is going to let him stay.

She hold up her finger, then says: “But, only if you call him. You got to at least tell him that you’re okay and working through stuff. You don’t have to specify what, but talk to him.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” A phone call still feels impossible, but Buck deserves more from Eddie. He deserves to have Eddie try. For them. For their family.

He can break his own heart to let Buck go, but he can’t let himself break Chris’s. Chris deserves to have his daddy and his papi in his life. He isn’t going to fuck that up. He can be a good father. He can be… gay and a good father.

Bosko looks at the clock and says: “Though maybe not tonight. It’s already 2:00 AM. Are you not exhausted? How long have you been awake?”

“Uh, around lunch,” Eddie replies, starting to feel the exhaustion now that she mentions it.

“Bedtime it is then. Get your ass off this couch so I can put some bedding on it. Do you want to borrow a shirt to sleep in? No offense, but you kind of reek.”

“That would be nice,” Eddie says sheepishly. He came her straight after that fight and never changed or showered. It is pretty disgusting.

Bosko ends up herding him into her bathroom, lending him some of her boxers and a shirt, before telling him to not use her conditioner, because it’s expensive. Eddie has never used conditioner in his life, so that’s easy enough.

While he showers, she makes up the couch into a makeshift bed. It’s not as comfortable as his own couch, but it will have to do. So he thanks her before they bid each other goodnight.

He tosses and turns the whole night, trying to figure out what to say tomorrow, until he finally falls into a fitful sleep.

The next morning, his own nerves wake him. Again, Bosko is still asleep and he is glad for that as he sneaks onto the balcony. Butter follows him, settling on his lap when he takes a seat. His purrs soothe Eddie as he gets out his phone with shaky hands, before pressing call.

“Eddie? Oh my god, are you okay? Where are you?” Buck greets him as he picks up, sounding relieved, but also like he doesn’t fully believe it’s real.

Guilt floods Eddie’s system at the words. He should have never doubted Buck’s ability to be worried about him. “I’m okay. I’m at Bosko’s place,” he answers quietly, subdued.

“Bosko’s place?” Buck repeats, a weird tinge to his voice.

“Uh, yeah, I worked with her at the 136? You met her at the shield ceremony,” Eddie reminds him.

“I know who she is,” Buck snaps, the anger he is right to feel coming through now. “I’m just trying to figure out what’s so important about going there that you couldn’t come home or even pick up your fucking phone.”

Eddie winces, he deserves that. “I’ve been running, kind of.”

“Running? From what? Should I be worried here?” Buck asks, still pissed off, but now more in the worried territory again and slightly more calm.

“Uhm, I- I don’t think so? I just-” Eddie makes a frustrated noise. This is not how he wanted this conversation to go. “I’ve been working through some things. Well, I need to work through some things, because I had been working through them, but not in a great way and-”

“Eddie, slow down,” Buck cuts him off. He’s been so relieved Eddie called, then worried, then pissed off and now he’s worried once more. Eddie isn’t the rambler, Buck is. Right now, Buck needs to know what’s happening, needs to know what the problem is, so he can fix it. So, he needs Eddie to be calm and focus. “Tell me slowly; what’s been going on,” he instructs. Over the line, he can hear Eddie take a deep breath.

Butter is purring loudly with how nice Eddie’s stressed petting is. It’s nice, makes him feel like he’s not as much of a monster as he thinks. That helps him swallows his nerves, before he confesses: “I’ve been street fighting.”

“What,” Buck chokes. Out of everything, this was pretty low on his list of possibilities, so low, it wasn’t even on there to begin with.

“It was just a friendly thing at first to cope with the stress, but, uhm, then it got out of hand and it- it got bad, Buck. I was scared to go home,” his voice is small and he’s ashamed of it, but here, alone on this balcony with only Buck to hear, he lets himself feel scared and small. He’s safe. Buck might be mad at him, but he knew the second he heard his voice that he was safe.

Indeed, Buck doesn’t disappoint, asking: “And are you okay where you are now?”

“Yeah, Bosko caught me at one of my fights, I- I realized I fucked up. She offered up her couch while I sort myself out. I’m quitting, so I, uh- I’m kind of staying here now. While I do that.”

“You’re not coming home?” Buck asks and Eddie wants to crawl into the feeling he gets when Buck says the word ‘home’ and stay there forever, but also crawl out of his own skin at the disappointment in Buck’s voice.

“Not yet, no. I’m sorry. I- I know I should have been home, I know I haven’t been, but I- I don’t know how to be home right now.” To his horror tears start to form in his eyes. His first instinct is to push them down, but then he remembers where that got him, so he lets them flow. Silently, they drip down his face.

“Do you- do you know when you’re going to be ready to be home again?” There is something fragile in Buck’s voice too.

“Uhm, no,” Eddie says, because he doesn’t. It feels like the wrong answer, it feels like he should be going home right now and embracing Buck and begging on his knees to be forgiven, to be loved, but that is exactly what he can’t do. He’s ruined enough, he can’t ruin it more by dumping this all on Buck before he figures himself out. Before he’s safe.

“Chris misses you,” Buck tells him and it doesn’t feel like a change of topic, but like an attempt to persuade him.

“Yeah, I- I heard your voicemail,” Eddie replies, voice thick. He feels horrible about not seeing Chris, about abandoning him too.

“Oh…” Buck is quiet for a moment. “Can you not see Chris or can you just not come home?” The underlying ‘can you just not see me’ hangs unspoken in the air between them. “Maybe you can pick him up for school tomorrow? Before your shift.”

Eddie is still scared about doing something to hurt either of them, but it also feels like he released some of the pressure by talking about it. Butter isn’t scared of him. He hasn’t hurt this fragile creature. He’s been gentle. Besides, he’s no longer angry, he’s just exhausted. Exhausted and confused and not ready. He’s just not ready.

However, just being not ready isn’t a good enough excuse. He’s never been ready to care for Chris and he has already failed so many times, but by god has he always tried and like hell is he going to stop trying now. So with a hoarse voice, he says: “Yeah, yeah, I can do that.”

“Good, good. He’ll be thrilled to hear that,” Buck says and Eddie can picture the wobbly smile that’s on his face. He wishes he could make it better, but he doesn’t know how. Buck is the one who is good at fixing things, Eddie only breaks them. “Want me to wake him so you can talk to him?”

“No. Uhm, no, it’s okay. He needs his rest and I- I’ll see him tomorrow,” Eddie says. He feels like a mess, he doesn’t want Chris to see this part of him. He needs time to pull himself back together.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Buck agrees, while clearly disagreeing. “What do you want me to tell him? He needs some sort of explanation, he knows you’re not working.”

They talk a little more about the logistics of it all. It’s stilted and uncomfortable, a lot is unspoken between them. Eddie feels a longing to say more, but he can’t bring himself to do so and Buck probably knows that there is more. It’s like there is glass between them. Eddie hates feeling so distant from Buck, but he doesn’t know how to bridge it.

When he hangs up, he feels vaguely hollow. He knows he did the right thing by calling and that it worked out in the end, but a small selfish part of him wished Buck had been more angry, instead of this quiet, sad understanding that Eddie doesn’t fully grasp. It feels uncomfortable to not understand him, he’s always understood Buck. It’s one of the many things he has broken.

He has no clue how he’s going to come back, if he can even come back to this family he had, the one with Chris and Buck. But that is something for him to figure out. It feels like a new start and he doesn’t know of what yet. It’s scary, but also a little exciting.

The following two weeks continue on in this weird limbo.

Buck explains to Chris that Eddie is helping out his friend, like Buck had to help out tía Maddie, so he can’t be home as much as they want him to. Chris is clearly not very pleased with it, but he lights up when Buck tells him Eddie will be bringing him to school.

He doesn’t see Eddie when that happens, since he’s in the kitchen, while Chris goes to meet Eddie at the door. It absolutely sucks to know Eddie is so close, but not being able to see him or talk to him. Not being able to assess what’s wrong.

Eddie needs space for figure himself out. Space away from Buck. It’s tearing him up inside, but he puts on a brave face and manages. Eddie is clearly going through something, he heard that much in his voice, and it’s something Buck can’t help him with. It’s going to be something he has to get used to when this all ends, might as well start now, even if his heart tears itself apart over it.

Hen texts him asking if it all worked out and he texts her that it’s all okay, Eddie just had a flat tire and they’re good now. Neither of them feel like letting the team in on this. Buck might not have all the details, but it feels private, sensitive. He understands not wanting the 118 nosing about while having to work with them each day. Buck is even a little glad he’s not back at work yet now that this is looming over him.

So, yeah, Buck manages. He hands the phone over to Chris at night so daddy can be there for bedtime and stays in the kitchen when Eddie drops Chris off or comes to pick him up.

Meanwhile, Eddie is trying to figure himself out. To create a place for himself where he is at peace with who he is and where he stands in the world. Not fighting people is hard, but he and Bosko spar one time and it doesn’t feel out of control. It feels just nice. Like a work out would. Not like anything special.

Eddie goes to a gay club, kisses a guy and it feels great and like he wants to throw up. It’s right, but it’s wrong. He wants to do it again, feel something close to what he felt. But the guy is okay looking, yet not attractive to him. Not really. Not like Buck is…

He learns a bunch of new terms, like demisexual, which makes him feel at home. And he meets a bunch of queer people from all walks of life. Listens to stories that resonate deeply, allowing him to lose a bit of that anger and the shame. Allows him to let go of the idea that these feelings are something he has to control, something he has to beat into submission.

Beyond that, he briefly gets to meet Heather and Kelsy when they drop of Tubs and he and Bosko spend all night analyzing what their interactions were like and if they have faith in the relationship while Eddie falls in love with Tubs.

He finds peace with himself, releases the pressure that had been building inside him in different, healthier ways, until the urge to punch someone has dissipated. Until he feels safe again. Both for himself and for others.

However, finding peace with himself, doesn’t mean an answer to the Buck conundrum appears before him.

The time spend away from him only confirms what Eddie already knows; he is deeply in love with Buck and it’s not a fleeting thing. It’s not going to go away, not anytime soon at least. It lingers in every quiet moment and fills the space between his organs until it is everywhere and he doesn’t know how to be himself without it.

Bosko tells him he should just rip the band aid off and tell Buck, face the rejection or embrace the possibility that Buck might love him back. But Eddie isn’t so sure.

Having the rejection might help him move on, but it’s also too painful to even think about. If he never tells, Buck never has to know and maybe he can fix this and go back to how they used to be, learn to live with the torch he carries for Buck silently. Keep him close and never let him go.

It’s an utterly selfish thing to do and he knows it, but he wants to. He wants to keep Buck. Wants to keep his friend. His person. If he just gives himself more time, maybe he can work out a way to be forgiven. To make it right.

The idea that Buck might love him back is too ludicrous to Eddie to even consider.

As the second weekend comes closer, it becomes clear that Eddie isn’t coming home soon. Chris returns with a good grade for his project and Eddie congratulated him in the car much like Buck did when Chris got home. However, Chris doesn’t seem happy with it.

While the two of them eat dinner, Buck asks: “What’s wrong, Superman? An A might not be an A+ like you hoped, but it’s still incredible. You did really well. What got you so down?”

Chris shrugs and pushes the food on his plate around. “I thought that if I did well, daddy would come home to celebrate, but he’s working this weekend and staying with his friend.”

Buck’s heart breaks for Chris, but there isn’t much he can do. Eddie is working through something and that’s important too. Not to mention that he’s actually working, not running like before. He can’t change that for Chris, even if he wants to.

“That does suck, buddy, but we can still celebrate,” he says, trying to inject enough cheer to convince Chris. “What do you think about the two of us going to check out the pier this weekend? We can try to win some cool prizes, maybe win a big one to make daddy jealous for missing it.”

It’s not perfect, but Chris lights up at the idea. “Can we, papi?”

“Of course,” Buck smiles back. He might not be able to fix what is going on with Eddie, but he can fix this. Going to the pier together sounds like a great idea. A bit of fun, it’s just what they all need to get their minds off everything.

~~

A/N:

wave emoji, wave emoji xp

Y’all I have discovered the glee of subjecting everyone to this, people calling me evil in the comments is fueling me >:3

[dottowos]

this is so cringe but like..dottore and those automatic fuck machines if you know what I'm talking about?

he's tied your hands behind your back, your face against the cold table or floor, blindfolded and gagged while the machine relentlessly fucks you from behind using a silicone duplicate of his own cock

maybe some segments will come by and drop a load into your mouth and throat while the machine overstimulates you again and again

but he's just observing because maybe you pissed him off? or maybe he's just a sick fuck (he is) (/lovingly)

Dottore creating things to spice things up certainly wasn't unheard of, considering all the trials of aphrodisiacs he went through to find the perfect one, vibrators with different settings he loved to test on you, even a replica of his cock... all of which he prefers to sit back and watch. Dottore would keep his eyes on you only as the toy ruins you, only occsionally stroking the bulge in his pants - he's much more interested in those delicious expressions of yours than himself right now. However, one thing he won't let you do is come on one of his toys (in his presence at least) - that's reserved for him only. Is it bad of an experimenter to cut their experiment early? Well, technically yes - but this is a different case - the only cock he wants you coming on is his.

Regardless, even though you shouldn't be surprised by his latest invention, it still throws you for a loop at the pace (that he controls, alternativing from agonizingly slow to hammering into you) as well as the cold air hitting your nude body - you can't see anything, but you know Dottore's just there watching you get mercilessly pounded, barely even saying a word. Who knows what he could be doing - stroking himself too, taking notes, or maybe even doing his own work and ignorning you. :(

You were just teasing him a tiny bit, grinding on his lap, but when he said he was going to give you want you want, you weren't expecting this! The worst part is that Dottore still never lets you come, always halting the machine before it can give you your much needed relief. :( And when you are about to finally reach your limit, he grabs your chin and asks if you enjoyed disturbing his work, questioning if you've learned your lesson (of course you haven't and it will happen again) - his harsh tone a stark difference from gently wiping your tears away. But still, you furiously nod your head as he hums in approval, and finally you can come as your hole easily accepts his actual cock.

Some segments don't even say anything to you once they start using your mouth at a inhuman pace comparable to the actual machine, leaving you to guess who they are from the small moans and pants. Some prefer to mock you through it, knowing that afterward you're too fucked out to try and refute their words, while others praise you even though you can't really hear them. Some are decent enough to at least clean around your mouth, some prefer to leave you there like that with cum dripping down your face and chest (and have the audacity to scold you for wasting it even though you're tied up) - either way, you always look lovely enough to come back for a second round, and both your holes are going to be more than ready for them.

Even when Dottore cleans you up afterward and holds you, you're still to shy to look at him and he gets amused when you try to shoo him away. Anyway, you get lots of kisses from them all for being so cooperative! <3

[futuremrscameron]

What would your vision of a more mature Outer Banks show look like?

if i could link all my rants or conversations with moony i would but i’m too lazy to look for them all so i’ll give you the bullet points

morally gray pogues. let jj kill to protect his friends, the pogues closer to juvenile delinquents/ a gang that swindle tourons or steal beer from gas stations, harass kooks and tourons for seemingly no reason, the list goes on and on.

keep in the scene where jj delivers shit to rose and she pays him to sleep with her. obviously they wouldn’t show it but it would be a great way to show just what the pogues have to do to survive and really dial up how predatory kooks are not just financially but in every way possible

have one of the pogues betray the others to protect themselves or their family at one point. ties back into morally gray characters and having nuance like maybe the betrayal was to keep themselves out of prison or someone they loved was threatened or maybe it’s out of spite

acknowledge that ward is abusive and a villain. the show treats him like he’s better than luke and that he’s just misguided or just needs to be saved by the love of his children. he talks down to rafe at best, and slaps him around at worst. puts sarah on a pedestal but like most men in her life when she doesn’t match up to that version of her he has in his head lashes out (physically in s2 episode 10). and last but certainly not least he ignores wheezie, the one who primarily needs his parenting and affections. idk if the show wants us to root for his redemption or it’s just the writers favoriting the camerons but they’re squandering a perfectly good villain.

just have the show be about outer banks quit the traveling. i can excuse them going to the bahamas for the gold cause dug the cameron’s are rich white folk of course they’re gonna hide their shit on a island or in a foreign country but outside of that keep the show in obx. like moony said the island itself is a character so that’s where they should be. i thought s4 was gonna fix that when the gentrification plot was revealed but nope! more treasure. the treasure isn’t even the problem cause i loved the gold and cross plotline but el dorado? morocco? please.

explore classism. for a show about the haves and have nots they barely scratch the surface of what separates the kooks from the pogue besides “they have money and they’re cruel” like BOOOO give me more. don’t you wonder why jj is still living with his fuckass dad? why hasn’t cps taken him to the cops arrested his father? bc they know jj has no one else, no money, and would probably rather stay with his dad. john b’s running from cps arc was cool til they dropped it.

explore antiblackness. if the pates and burke have a shit about black people pope kelce and cleo would’ve gotten a lot more to work with. i don’t even think they realize rafe hate crimed pope so i can’t be surprised but goddamn this ties perfectly into the classism at play in obx. classism and antiblackness go hand in hand so it wouldn’t be that hard to have a storyline about the heywards being better off than jj or john b but still getting disrespected for being “poor” or “uppity” (antiblack) and not “knowing their place” or have pope tell the pogue’s that just cause he has a fraction more than them doesn’t mean shit and he has more at risk than any of them. he’ll have kiara talking about the micro aggressions she dealt with during her kook year (looking at rafe and crew). speaking of rafe why the fuck is kelce friends with them. is it a can’t beat ‘em join ‘em mentality or better them (pope) than me or is he genuinely a black white supremacist. WE DON’T KNOW. cleo is from the islands and while there’s no shortage of black people there colorism still exists. she’s a dark skinned girl who lived in the street til recently and had to do whatever it takes to survive gee i wonder who she could relate to. also that old white guy in s4 was being blatantly antiblack and xenophobic to her but they went nowhere with that cause of course

rafe and barry lore. now listen this is not just me fujoshing out, this is about figuring out what the fuck these two have going on. who got rafe into drugs? how did he meet barry? how long has barry been selling to rafe? recently? (no) since he was a teenager? (most likely) cause that creates some gross implications and raised eyebrows at barry, makes him look more predatory than he already is (i mean he’s a drug dealer you gotta prey on weaknesses and what not) why do these two get a long to some extent? rafe gets to crash at barry’s and i won’t say it’s cause barry likes him at most (in s1) he’s amused by him s2 on is another story but i won’t get into all that here. they’re no fezco and rue but they definitely have a bond

while we’re on the topic of rafe please diagnose that mf. “there’s always been something wrong with him.” “he’s sick.” he’s mentally ill, stop dancing around it i beg. i know he’s not canonically anything but the signs point to BPD and the people agree so get to it. also have it genetic on his mom’s side and that’s one of the reasons why ward is so scared to acknowledge it or get him help cause that makes it real and he won’t lose his son like he lost his wife. creates intrigue, nuance, drama, empathy for rafe and ward.

queer characters. they should already be in the show but alas. jj queer, kiara queer, barry queer, sarah queer but doesn’t wanna admit it, rafe queer but homophobic, give me range yk?

call out characters’ misogyny. sarah cameron is obx’s number one victim of misogyny, my sister is scared of getting close to people cause she knows when she opens up and isn’t the person they thought she was they’ll lash out (ie; all the men in her life). john b and topper switch up on sarah when she isn’t the perfect girlfriend, not the cheating, just not the devoted girlfriend that’s on their side 24/7z kiara is victim #2 of course. rafe spews nothing but vile misogynistic language to and about sarah and objectifies kiara. ward is possessive of sarah and wants her under his thumb. pope is cold to kiara after she rejects him and jj is #weird to women. (this is probably the writers not picking up on it, having “better things to worry about”, or trusting the viewers to clock it)

amazing ask by the way thank you for letting me yap about my vision

[venturelovebot]

Fluffy February Day One: At First Sight

A/N: It's February! I hope you're all ready for a whole new month full of fluffy prompts, especially because Valentine's Day is only two weeks away! We got a lot in store for this month, so let's get started! Prompts by @fluffyfebruary, written in headcanon format. Comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated but not necessary!

Warnings: None! Pure fluff!

🩷 If you asked Sloan Cameron if love at first sight existed, they would easily tell you yes.

❤️ Not in terms of human beings, however.

💄 They couldn't count how many times an artifact had graced their sights, only to make their heart aflutter just thinking about its history and possible cultural significance.

💋 In terms of people? It's a much different story.

🪽 They honestly never thought about relationships that much. Nor settling down, starting a family or even going on a date for that matter.

🌹 A lot of things can change once you meet certain people, though.

🍫 The first ever conversation they had with you left them humming for the rest of the day.

💒 The softest pink blush painted their adorable face just thinking about talking to you again.

🧸 They did not consider it a crush. Weren't they a little too old for that sort of thing?

🩷 As it turns out, certainly not.

❤️ It wasn't until the second conversation rolled around that they realized how actually enamored they were with you.

💄 I'm sure you're surprised. Rest assured, so were they.

💋 When they really thought about it, though... maybe love at first sight was a thing after all.

🪽 Before your shared hours-long yap sessions, they remember how much you stood out amongst the crowd you were in.

🌹 Something about you was soft. Ethereal, angelic– maybe it was your well done hair, perhaps it was the fragrance that you wore. Your outfit was also incredibly eye catching as well.

🍫 "I'm sick and tired of their unending conversations with themself." Cupid Hanzo huffs. "If I can set them up, surely I can pull anything off!"

💒 It felt like a tiny thump inside their chest. Suddenly, they were floating.

🧸 When you turned to see who it was requiring your attention, hearts formed inside their citrine colored eyes.

🩷 "Can I help you?" You ask them with a smile.

❤️ "Oh! I– I was just– I wanted to– uh," All their words escaped them in that moment.

💄 You were working part time at the library in Toronto. They remember it all like it was yesterday.

💋 You were so patient and understanding. It was a particularly slow hour during the day, so it's not as if they were taking up any of your time.

🪽 "I wanted to–" They took a deep breath in. "Check these out?"

🌹 They placed several heavy, dusty books on the table from the archeological section of the library.

🍫 "Sure! Can I see your library card?" You inquired.

💒 They spent the next five minutes fumbling through their wallet like a dummy trying to find it.

🧸 Meanwhile, they talked your ear off about their latest project they were working on at the time.

🩷 You were anything but annoyed, though.

❤️ Everything they talked about was absolutely fascinating. Not only that, but their dynamic story telling had you deeply enthralled in all of their tales.

💄 "So, that's how I got assigned to the Anubis AI!" They grinned. "Pretty neat, huh?"

💋 "Mhm." You agreed, hand balancing your head underneath your chin.

🪽 "Well– umm– it was nice to meet you, [Y/N]!" Their body shook with nervousness. "I'll see you around sometime?"

🌹 "Maybe!" You hoped. "Take care!"

🍫 When they got back into their car to drive back home, they noticed a little piece of paper fall out onto the carpet below.

💒 'XXX-XXX-XXXX.'

🧸 Your number.

🩷 You stir softly in your sleep and it pulls them from their reminiscing.

❤️ "Mmh– awake? Still?" Sleep taints your voice.

💄 You drowsily reach out and tuck a sienna colored curl behind their ear.

💋 They lean in to place a kiss to your lips.

🪽 "Just remembering how we first met, that's all." They explain.

🌹 You smile at them with genuine happiness.

🍫 "Go to sleep. You need it." You lightly chide them.

💒 You close your eyes again and fall deeply into the recesses of your dreams.

🧸 Love at first sight. Love at every sight. Love they hold onto just for you.

🩷 "Hah! I told you so." Cupid Hanzo smirks from afar.

[coffeeghoulie]

broke the mold (change will come)

chapter 1: can't explain a thing

"For a very long time, I thought I was fire too."

The only person Swiss has ever told this story to is Aeon. But that is centuries from now, and he is not yet Swiss.

I've been thinking about and working on this fic since I wrote Eternal Heatstroke last year, and it's finally ready to share! You don't have to have read EH before reading this, but this is technically its sequel.

Much thanks to @askingforthesun for letting me bother them with this fic and helping with the worldbuilding, @mintea-in-space for reading through it, and to @belle--ofthebrawl for letting me yap about this fic in person. <3

Title and all chapter titles (unless otherwise specified) are from (Coffee's for Closers) by Fall Out Boy. Updates on Fridays.

Contains emotional child abuse, religious doubt, a large group of ghoul OCs, dissociation, and a large crisis of faith. Please mind the warnings <3. 5.9k.

divider by @wrathofrats <3

He's just gotten comfortable in the little nest in the corner of their room when the door creaks open. Golden light spills into the late night darkness, revealing the silhouette of a teenage fire ghoulette. Her horns are just starting to curl back over her head, silver jewelry threaded into the braids that brush over her shoulders. The hall light glints off of them, catching his eye.

"Aurum," she says bluntly, no hesitation or care that he might be asleep. He shuts his eyes. "Mother and Father want to talk to you."

Aurum squeezes his eyes shut even tighter, a pang of fear and deep seated dread sinking into him. He groans under his breath, biting down hard on his lower lip. "I know," he says, reluctantly extracting himself from his nest just as Scintilla, his sister, curls up into hers in the other corner.

"Be quiet when you come back," she says, disinterested in the obvious fear in his scent that he can't quite mask. "Some of us care about our studies in the morning. Ignis is already asleep."

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, feeling his sister's eyes burning into the small of his back. "I'll be quiet, Till." He’ll at least try to be. At least for his youngest sister’s sake. Sometimes, it feels like she’s the only one who doesn’t just hate him.

"You better be quiet," she grumbles, settling into her bed. "You certainly weren't last time."

Aurum shuts the door as quietly as he can.

The walk down the hallway gets longer every time he's summoned, he swears. Every step harder to take, unavoidable. His heart pounds in his chest. It rattles at his ribs in an attempt to get free. He waits for a moment outside of their door, the frame seeming to loom over him despite him being rather tall for his age.

There's shuffling within, blankets and papers, quiet murmurs that Aurum can't quite make heads or tails of. He knows his mother and father's voices though. He swallows hard, turning the door handle and stepping into his parents' room.

Aurum feels like he's spending more time in his parents' room than his own, these days. It's the third summoning this week. Their room is exactly the same as the last time he was summoned here. Their hearth sits against the far wall in an intricate weaving of bedding, two dressers on the wall opposite. The window is tightly shut, and if Aurum squints past the glare from the lights on their nightstands, he can see the glow of the City below.

Aurum ducks his head as both of his parents' gazes lock onto him. Pyra sits in her nest, legs gracefully tucked under her. There's papers and readings sprawled out in the blankets, her glasses perched on her nose as she looks over the frames. Inferno stops pacing by the window, turning to look at his oldest and only son, dull yellow eyes staring into what counts of his soul.

"Your father and I both know why we've asked you here, Aurum," Pyra says, reaching back to where she's tied back her hair. A few loose twists have escaped her ponytail, and she pushes them back behind her ears neatly. Ever prim and proper, even when winding down for the evening.

"Yes, Mother," Aurum mumbles, taking the space he knows well at the foot of their hearth. His arms go behind his back, and he hangs his head, his braids falling into his eyes.

Inferno tuts, and Aurum jolts. "You look at your mother when she speaks to you."

Aurum swallows. "Yes, Father." It's always hard to judge if Inferno gets involved on nights like this. He usually yields to his mate, but some nights... Aurum just has to hedge his bets. But he swallows hard again, straightening to meet his mother's dark amber gaze.

"Why do you think we've called you here?" Pyra asks, her attention split between him and her papers. Aurum's made the hypocrisy comment before, about him forced to be at attention and her being allowed to pay attention only when she pleased, and it didn't end well, so he keeps his mouth shut.

"I don't know, Mother," he says. In reality, it could be any number of infractions. Iggy, even though she's his favorite little sister, loves pushing his buttons until he breaks and snaps. It could be the way he isn't keeping his nest clean to Tilly's standards. It could be anything.

Pyra whips towards Inferno, something red glowing in the darkness of her eyes like embers waiting to be kicked back to life. "By the Prince, Inferno, he's just like you."

The larger ghoul throws his hands up, raking claws through close-cropped curls. "I know, Pyra, I'm trying to make sure he doesn't turn out like me."

"You're not trying hard enough," she snaps, turning back to Aurum. His ears pin back. "'I don't know' is not an answer, Aurum. Try again."

Aurum wracks his mind, even as everything starts to blur around the edges. He digs his claws into one of his wrists, squeezing as hard as he can. He hopes the pain keeps the dissociation at bay. "I- I really don't know, Mother."

She snarls, slapping the papers in her hand against the nest. Aurum flinches, but he knows better now than to physically recoil and step back. He'd learned that lesson a long time ago. He instead tightens his grip around his wrist.

"You are here, again, because your tutor told us that you weren't trying at all to improve your magic. Again."

"I am trying!" Aurum says, eyes glancing nervously between his parents. His father stands stock still, staring expressionlessly. "Saint Jezebel, I'm trying, I swear!"

"Watch your tone." Pyra tuts, her fangs clicking threateningly. She picks up the stack of papers and thumbs through them. "I'd believe you, Aurum, only, that's exactly what you said about the last tutor. And the last one. And the one before that."

Aurum takes a deep breath through his nose. "Because it was true then, and it's true now. I am trying, Mother. I don't know what's wrong with me that I can't use my magic like I used to. I can't do anything right." He snaps the last sentence, unsure if he's angry with her or at himself.

She shakes her head. Her eyes lock on his and it takes everything in Aurum's power to not look away. To stay here and present and focused. If he misses something, she will make him live to regret it. "Tone, Aurum."

He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. "I'm sorry, Mother."

Pyra doesn't respond with much more than a huff.

"You know how your mother feels about 'sorry,' Aurum," Inferno snaps. He leans against the bedroom wall. He watches. It feels like that's all his father ever does. Watches, never interferes. Except when he's angry enough to start yelling too.

Aurum hates those nights. He hopes this isn't one of them.

"Yes, Father," Aurum says.

"Quit it with the 'Yes, Father, yes, Mother,'" Pyra says. "We're sick of hearing it."

Aurum squints, brows furrowing with exasperated confusion. "Well, if I don't address you, you yell at me for being disrespectful. If I do address you, you get angry. I can't win."

She mirrors his expression. He can't tell if she's mocking him. She probably is. "So you admit that you think this is a game?"

"No!" He says, throwing his head back to look up at the ceiling, a silent prayer in his mind. "That's not what I said at all!"

"You are squandering the Prince's gift!" Pyra snaps, her many fangs long and sharp. "He said that you would-"

"Grow to great power and bring honor to my name in servitude to the Throne! Mother, I know, you've told me!" Aurum says, his claws curling into his wrist and threatening to break his own skin. "You tell me every time I don't do good enough for you!"

"Aurum," she growls, standing from the nest. She's just barely taller than him, and her eyes bore into his. "You would do well enough for us if you just tried. I know you can, I've seen it."

"What, when everything was fucking easy?" He snaps. Aurum's exhausted. He wonders why they can't have these little "discussions" earlier in the day. When he wouldn't ache for his nest. Wouldn't have to worry about waking his sisters.

"Don't take that tone with me," she snarls. She's never done more than snap her teeth, grab at his wrist, but there's enough threat in her voice that Aurum flinches.

He lets his eyes flick up at the ceiling, the familiar words starting to rush through his mind. Seven Sisters, grant me the strength and patience I do not-

"Don't roll your eyes at me, Aurum!"

Aurum's eyes go wide, glancing back to his mother's face as she stands in front of him. "I didn't!"

"I fucking watched you, Aurum, I'm not stupid!" She lunges, so close Aurum can feel her spittle hitting his cheeks. "Quit fucking lying to me, it's not going to get you anywhere."

"Mother, I didn't roll my eyes, I looked up-"

"Knock it off," Inferno says. "Listen to your mother."

"I am, Father," Aurum says, bravely looking away from Pyra to glare daggers at his father. He feels the anger burning in his chest, coals kicked into flames with each heartbeat. Whenever he calms, in hours or days, who knows, Aurum knows there will be no forgiveness for his father's enabling observance. For never putting a stop to this. He's close to grown now, he can leave soon and never have to do this again.

Not much longer until he's grown. He's gotten this far. He can make it a few more decades.

The tiny voice in the back of his mind reminds him that he's not sure how much more of this he can force himself to endure.

Pyra's clawed hand grabs his chin, forcing Aurum to make eye contact with her. "You need to try harder, Aurum. The Prince said you would bring honor to your family's name and follow their footsteps. Do not make a false prophet of Him."

"I am trying as hard as I can, the fire's not- It's not coming to me the way it used to, and I don’t know why," he says, tail curling around his calf sheepishly and ears pinned back. "I'm sorry. Mama, I’m sorry."

She rolls her eyes, huffing. Her voice goes soft, and her thumb smooths over his cheek. Gentle. He fights every instinct to lean into it. "I don't believe you. Aurum. If you really meant it, you would do something to change it."

Aurum sinks his fangs into his tongue until he tastes blood. Even despite the pain, he can feel his mind retreating deep into his brain, leaving him feeling almost hollow. Pyra's talking. He knows he can hear her, but nothing processes. She can probably see the way his eyes are going dull.

There's a muted dread that settles in his chest. He knows she's saying something he needs to listen to. She'll be pissed when she realizes he isn't hearing her. His father'll be pissed too. But Aurum can't get his brain back online even despite that threat.

He can hear her talking. So close he can feel her breath, his eyes crossed as they try to focus on her. He cannot make out the words but knows the tone. He’s heard it before. He knows how to make this stop, how to stop nights like these, but he’s been trying just as long.

It feels like he’s living the same day over and over and over and over and over again with no end in sight.

Eventually, she lets go of his face, takes a step back to her nest. To where she’s brought her work home from the Palace. Flamespeaker’s duties never ending, and Pyra’s served the Prince with honor since long before she’d met his father.

"You are dismissed," Pyra huffs. She gestures towards the door. "Do not wake your sisters."

Aurum nods, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat as he tries to force himself back into his body. "Yes, Mother. Good night."

It isn't returned.

He shuts his parents' door as quietly as he can, turning the knob as it latches so it doesn't click loudly. His tail tucked between his legs, he slips back down the hallway to his and Scintilla's room. He's fighting a losing battle, his eyes stinging and blurry with tears, and by the time Aurum creaks the door to their room open, they've started dripping down his cheeks.

Aurum's nest waits for him, and he slips under the covers as quietly as he can. Best he can tell, he was successful on not waking either of his sisters. He counts it as a win.

He throws the blankets over himself, eyeing the lump Scintilla makes under her covers carefully. Her breathing is slow and steady, and he nods, knowing what she looks like when she sleeps. He's been sharing a room with her for almost two centuries now, has been practically his entire life. Iggy, his baby sister, youngest of his den, had slept in their parents' hearth far longer than Scintilla or Aurum had, and when she'd finally outgrown the habit, Aurum had been more than happy to give up his room for her.

Aurum watches Scintilla breathe for another few moments, just to make sure he’s followed through with his promise. When he's certain she's asleep, he grabs a big handful of the thickest blanket in his nest, sinking his teeth into the fur to stifle a sob.

The barrier breaks, and it all floods out of him. He sobs, curling up in on himself, knees to his chest, and he shakes. He's tired. So tired. Scared, and upset, and wailing like a brand new kit. He hates himself for it. He's almost grown, and here he is, crying so hard his tears steam up on his cheeks.

Of course his fire makes itself known now.

Aurum hates it all.

He tries to keep it quiet. He really does. But he freezes when he hears a snap of fangs from the other side of the room.

"Be fucking quiet," Scintilla hisses. Her tail unfurls from around her body, the spade smacking threateningly against her nest. She rolls over with a quiet growl. “Or I go get Mother.”

Aurum whines, caught. He turns over to face the wall, tears still streaming down his face as more shame settles into the core of his chest. His tail uncurls from around his thigh, and he takes the spade between his teeth.

He bites down until he tastes iron, willing himself to fall asleep.

Aurum's dreams have always been strange. Tonight is no exception. He finds himself in the shadow of a tall ghoul, a man he doesn't recognize. Everything's too fuzzy to make out the real details. He's lit with fire, steam and shadow obscuring the details. All Aurum can see are the broad features. His hair falls in long locs down his back, horns curving out from his head.

Aurum calls out for him, so close, yet when he tries to take a step towards this strange, familiar ghoul, he gets no closer. "Hey!" Aurum calls, reaching as far as he can.

The man pays him no mind. He does not say anything, doesn't even acknowledge that Aurum's called out to him. He starts to walk away.

“Hey!” Aurum panics, breaking into a stumbling run after the man. "Wait!"

With every step, Aurum gets further away from the man, even as he reaches with arms outstretched, runs as fast as he can. "Please don't leave me here!"

The man pauses. Looks over his shoulder. The moment Aurum meets his eye, he jolts awake in a sweaty, disheveled mess. He doesn’t fall asleep again. Mind too frantic, trying to figure out what it meant. He has no answer.

Things are still tense in the morning, a bitter taste on the back of his tongue, coating the roof of his mouth. His sisters share glances with each other as he steps out into the common room, even Iggy. She looks tired. Something like disappointment pangs sharp in Aurum’s chest, and he curls in on himself.

"Didn't sleep well," she says to no one in particular, spreading jam over a stale piece of flatbread. There's a dog-eared book in her lap, and her tail brushes against the stool leg as it sways absently behind her. Ignis ties her locs back out of her face as she eats. She doesn’t look at him. That hurts worse than anything else.

Aurum's ears pin back as Scintilla glares at him from where she sits next to their sister. "No wonder," she says dryly. Her fingers work at a piece of silver jewelry that had come off of one of her braids in the night. “Someone doesn’t know how to be considerate if the instructions were written out and shoved into his face.”

"I'm sorry," Aurum mumbles, tail curled around his calf as he goes to get himself something to eat. He knows his mother has already left for her duties, but he can't quite remember if his father had a meeting scheduled for this morning or the next day. It's always best to try and appease his denmates just in case he's still home.

Even then, it doesn't really matter if Inferno's home or not. Despite walking on eggshells around them, trying his best to be civil and accommodating, one of his sisters will find something, say something, to report back to their parents. Kicking the coals to restart the fire, whether they mean to or not.

Aurum's used to it by now anyways. No use complaining. He takes a deep breath and turns his back to rummage through a cabinet. Their eyes burn into his skull.

"Quit saying you're sorry, Aurum," Scintilla scoffs. Even with his back turned, Aurum knows his sister has her fangs bared. She sounds like their mother. "We keep going through this because you won't listen to Mother. You are ruining our lives. All you are is a broken record. You're not sorry."

His tail lashes behind him and he whirls on his feet to face her, forgetting all about finding something to eat. "Quit telling me how I feel, Till!"

She just rolls her eyes, snarling a little under her breath. "Don't call me that."

"I can't call you your name?" Aurum snaps, meeting her glare and baring his own teeth in response. "I can't call you your Prince-damned name?"

Her eyes flare with fire, smoke curling from her nostrils. "Tilly isn't my name, you belligerent asshole!"

He snarls, lunging for the counter, and she swats at him, hissing and spitting. Her claws catch the back of his hand, and Aurum shouts as she rakes them across it. "Fuck you," he snarls, clutching his hand to his chest. Dark blood oozes like magma from the cut.

"Oh, get over yourself," Scintilla says, rolling her eyes, getting up from her seat and grabbing her bag. "It's time to go, Ig. We’re gonna be late if we don’t." Ignis follows close behind her, giving Aurum one last glance as she too grabs her bag and follows her sister out the door. The anger Aurum sees there stings like salt in a cut.

He stands stock still until the door latches shut behind them. Aurum snarls under his breath, shoving the heels of his hands into his eyes. He can feel his pulse in his temple and in the gash across the back of his hand. The house is silent around him.

Aurum clenches his fists, claws digging into the meat of his palms. He hastily wipes the blood from the back of his hand. It burns. Or is it just his eyes burning that he feels?

He doesn't know and he doesn't care.

Aurum glances down the hallway to his parents' room, trying to determine if his father is still home. When Inferno doesn't come out from his own room or the living room with all of the commotion, Aurum takes a deep breath, lets it out on a sigh. He marches up the hallway and throws his bag back into his nest. Fuck it all, he's not going. He's already going to have to face his pack's disappointment for being a bad fire ghoul.

He might as well give them something different to be disappointed with. Stir it up a little bit.

Aurum heads out then, glancing down the street to his sisters' backs as he turns in the opposite direction. Fuck being a broken record, he scoffs to himself. Under the anger, a dread starts to settle in his chest. He bottles it up for now.

He keeps his head down as he walks deeper into the heart of the City. He knows his parents should both be at work, but they could very well see him ditching his tutor.

It'll get back to them eventually. Of course it will. But Aurum has things he wants to do before he has to deal with those consequences.

Aurum ducks down a side street between two tall buildings, ignoring the ghouls and demons of all elements moving around him, living their lives. He's grateful that they ignore him, despite all of the gold in his hair and ears that marks him as family of the First.

Out of the corner of his eye, the Palace looms over the rest of the skyline, growing ever closer. Aurum feels his heart race, knowing his mother, let alone the Prince Himself, are in that building, and he's walking closer like he wants to be caught.

He keeps walking, head down, breathing in the scent of a street vendor's wares, frying flatbread and sweet and savory fillings. Aurum's stomach growls. He realizes he didn't actually get a chance to eat before rushing out. There's a few coins in his pants pockets, but food can come later. He has something far more important he wants to get done first.

The Palace looms large on the hill in the center of the City when Aurum steps out of the side street. But he turns his back to it. Saint Jezebel's chapel is a much smaller building, ash grey brick and glass stained every color Aurum could ever imagine. There are grander churches, the ones he attends with his family for Black Mass.

But no one ever looks for him at Saint Jezebel's.

Aurum pushes open the door as quietly as he can, slipping inside. He takes a deep breath and lets his shoulders as he takes in the chapel. He's the only ghoul here, much to his relief. Aurum doesn't need anyone questioning him right now.

He slips into the last pew, eyes forward to the statue on the altar. She'd once been human, Up Top, a long time ago. She’s beautiful, carved from perfect white stone by a ghoul long gone by now.

Aurum clasps his fingers together, resting his wrists on the pew in front of him, before bending to press his forehead to his forearms. He takes a deep breath. "Our Father, who art in Hell," he begins, barely a breath louder than a whisper, eyes squeezed shut, focused on that little seed of flame at his very core. "Unhallowed be thy name. Cursed be thy sons and daughters, of thine nemesis who are to blame. Thy Kingdom Come, Nema."

The little speck of flame caged in his ribs, his magic, the core of his being, flickers in acknowledgment. Aurum tries to spiritually warm his hands by the flame. The Prince had made his ancestors, and by extension Aurum himself, in His own image. Had stepped forth from the fires of the Pit, unholy Creation to rival His Forsaker's.

"Infernal Majesty," Aurum whispers, the air still and quiet around him. "I offer my thanks, to be created in Your image, a creature of fire to burn away all Holy. I know this to be true, Olde One."

His eyes dart behind his eyelids. He knows he's alone. But he can feel Saint Jezebel's eyes, even as she looks through the window behind him. Above him. He wonders if she knows he’s here.

"You love Your creations, like Your father was supposed to love You. And You have made us good, and right, and powerful. I try my best to live up to that legacy, and the future You personally have seen for me."

He looks up, opens his eyes. Saint Jezebel stares out the window towards the Palace.

"Lord Lucifer, Prince Morningstar of the Nine Hells, creator and protector of Your children, I pray to borrow an ounce of the strength it took You to stand up to him. I just want to be a good son, Majesty. I want to make Mama and Dad happy, and do good by you. I don't know why I can't get better."

He hastily wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, dropping his head as he continues to pray. The tears sting the cut still there. "Unholy Lord, if all of Your children are made in Your image, why am I bad?"

The chapel is silent. Aurum's question hangs on the air. Even the little spark of magic at the very core of him, forever dancing and flickering, feels like it's frozen still. Saint Jezebel stares.

Aurum swallows hard, lowers his head again, and keeps praying. "O, most unholy Lord, grant me the sacrilege of your knowledge. Open the channels of my infernal soul and bring sweet release to the darkness inside of me. O, let my understanding of Your abhorrent secrets bring me closer to thee. Nema."

The whispered words almost seem to echo throughout the empty chapel. Or maybe Aurum just feels too small, insignificant to be heard. He asks anyways. "The dream from last night, Lord. A-are you leaving me? Am I that bad a ghoul? What's wrong with me? Why won’t it stop?"

Despite his pleas, desperation souring his scent, Aurum knows the only way he's getting an answer is if he marches right into the Palace. He’s just a kit, he knows they're not going to listen to him if he demands audience. He knows his mother likes to talk. He knows what she's said about him.

He wonders if the Prince hates him. It’s a thought that tastes bitter. But sometimes, the helpful things are. It’s almost like medicine.

Aurum stops praying. Just rests his forehead on his arms, feels the bench in front of him dig into them with the pressure. Lets himself be aware of sensation. Tries to shut off his mind. Can’t quite do it.

He’s only aware of time passing when his stomach growls. Services aren’t until the evening, but the chapel’s always open to those who need it. Which, right now, seems to be only him. He’s never been so grateful to be alone.

Aurum stretches when he stands, and is almost sent back on his ass with the force of the dread that hits him. He can’t stay here forever. And leaving means tucking his tail between his legs and sneaking back home. Walking willingly into the lion’s den.

But it’s not like he has any other choice. Aurum has to go home. Or whatever he’s walking into will be far worse when they eventually drag him back.

They’re waiting for him when he returns. Of course they are. Aurum stops in his tracks, ears pinning back and tail curling tight around his calf as his parents glare daggers at him. “M-mother, Father,” he breathes.

“Would you care to explain where you were, Aurum?” Pyra asks, her arms crossed over her chest. Her magma-like markings swirl and ripple, heat radiating off her like her anger. “Your sisters said you never showed up at the tutor’s.”

Aurum shrugs, swallowing hard as he steels himself, forcing himself to hold eye contact with his mother. “They left without me. I wouldn’t doubt that they’re making things up just to rile you up.”

“Lying isn’t a good look on you, Aurum,” Inferno warns. He bares his teeth, and Aurum fights every instinct not to bare his throat in submission. “We found your bag in your nest.”

“I’m not lying.” He at least has the audacity to look his father in the eye as he lies.

“Oh, I’m sure,” he scoffs, stepping towards him. “Get in here. Quit standing in the threshold.”

“Of course, Father,” Aurum says. Every emotion, all of the fear and doubt and anger, swirl inside his chest until all he feels is tired. He crosses his arms, mirroring his mother.

“Don’t take that tone,” he growls. Aurum just huffs.

“Now what? Let me guess. You’re just going to scream at me until you’re happy, and then send me off to bed so we can do this all again in the morning.” He’s fucking exhausted. Aurum hurts.

“We don’t do this because it makes us happy,” Pyra spits. Her eyes burn, flashing orange and red like embers kicked back to life. “We do this because you refuse to fucking listen, Aurum. You have the power to put an end to this. The ball is in your court. This is on you.”

He just laughs. It’s better than bursting into tears. Inferno lunges at him, infuriated by his blatant disrespect. Aurum flinches back, eyes wide as his father grabs him, pulling him closer to him and his mate.

“I can’t end this, because no matter what I do, it’s not good enough,” he hisses, trying so hard to hold himself together. He knows how they react when he cries. He pulls fruitlessly at his arm.

“It would be good enough if you just did what you were told and tried,” Pyra snaps. “That is quite literally all we ask for, Aurum. That does not feel unreasonable to ask for. We ask for you to just try.”

“I do!” he yells, wrenching his arm from his father’s grip. He feels his body temperature steadily rising. “That’s all I fucking do! I try, and I try, and I try, and you’re never fucking happy! What the fuck do you really want?”

For a moment, his mother just looks sad. But Aurum has no fucking pity for her, for his sisters, for his father. His parents don’t answer, just stare at him.

“What do you want,” Aurum tries again, gritting his fangs. “Tell me exactly what you want, so I can be a good enough son for you. Or is that just it, that you want a different kit because I’ve so thoroughly and repeatedly failed you?”

“Aurum, that’s not what we want and you know it-” Pyra tries to protest. Aurum just rolls his eyes.

“Am I making you a disappointment to the Prince? Am I fucking up your most honorable career, Mother? Aren’t you so disappointed that you’re not raising a good enough successor? Come on, tell me.”

“Don’t bring that into this, Aurum,” Inferno snaps, but Aurum ignores him. Much to his parents’ dismay, all they’ve really done is made him excellent at tuning them out. He cocks his head, raising his eyebrows as he waits for his mother’s answer.

“Mother, you know it’s true. The Prince blessed me, so you say, and I’m proving Him wrong.”

Pyra’s eyes ignite, and if Aurum weren’t so angry, so exhausted, he’d be truly afraid.

"You are so fucking inconsiderate!" Pyra screams, baring each of her fangs. Her markings ripple like lava, running down her arms and glowing bright. "If you were anyone else's son, they would have given up on you by now. You are squandering that blessing, and we still haven't given up on you, Aurum."

Aurum's heart and fists clench so tight he can smell blood. "Well," he says, swallowing hard to keep his voice as level as he can. "Maybe you should give up on me."

He gives his mother one last glare before he turns and walks out of the door.

"Aurum, get back here!" Inferno roars, but it's cut off as Aurum slams the door shut. With a jolt of fear, he starts to run.

Aurum doesn't look back, but he doesn't hear the door open after him. Granted, all he can hear is his heart pounding at his ribs, his panting breaths, his feet on the paving stones. He doesn't know where he's going, just lets his feet carry him away away away.

He slams open the doors to Saint Jezebel's for the second time in twenty four hours, and once again, he is alone. The offering candles flicker at her feet, lit for services that are soon to start, and the sight of fire makes Aurum's chest sting even more.

He storms up the aisle, a growl building in his throat as he reaches up to his hair. Aurum knows he doesn't have that much time before someone caves and comes looking for him. He can't go back. But he moves with purpose until he stands underneath Saint Jezebel, her eyes looking up to the window, out to the Palace.

They do not look down upon him.

With shaking fingers, Aurum takes out every last piece of adornment in his hair and ears. Each cuff and ring and charm, the gold gleaming in his palm, the tiny red gems that had been woven into his braids. It takes longer than he'd like, struggling as he makes himself bare for the first time in his life.

The pile in his hands clatters as they shake. Aurum stares at the jewelry, what had marked him as one of the First and as a ghoul in service to the Prince. Some of the pieces had been his mother's, his father's, grandparents', some from ghouls even older and long gone before Aurum had been born.

Each and every one of them had spent their lives in service to the Prince.

Aurum snarls, staring up at Saint Jezebel. His back is to the Palace. "I asked for protection," he says slowly. Something burns in his chest, nasty and acrid and curling up the back of his throat. "I begged You for safety, from them, from her, and You ignored me. I thought I was Your child! I thought You fucking cared!"

His knees tremble. If he were any less angry, adrenaline burning through him stronger than his magic ever has, he might have fallen to them.

Instead, he balls his fist around the pile of adornment. The metal digs into the cuts on his palm. He turns, staring out the stained glass window out to where the Palace sits on the hill. He hopes the Prince can hear him.

"I'm not your fucking child anymore," he snarls, chest heaving. "I'm no one's."

He turns back to the statue of Saint Jezebel and throws his adornment at her feet. "Fuck You!" he screams, drowning out the sound of the metal clattering on the marble. Aurum's eyes burn, vision hazy. "If You wanted me to care, You wouldn't have made me bad, wouldn't have given them a reason to hate me. Fuck You."

Aurum turns and storms out of the chapel, slamming the doors behind him before he starts to run. The Palace is behind him.

For the first time in his life, Aurum leaves the City. And he doesn’t turn back.

[dr-futbol-blog]

Critical Mass, Pt. 5

Confirming that Sheppard had dropped what he had been doing and started making his way toward the control platform the moment he had heard the distress in McKay's voice when the gate had started dialing itself, he now walks in and parks himself in front of McKay's work station without saying a word. And again it is almost as though McKay can sense him coming in, beginning to turn toward him before he has made his presence known, before Sheppard had announced his arrival in any way. Certainly we may jot it down for coincidence, McKay deciding it is time to sit just as Sheppard saunters in. But let us note the fact that he is very much in the middle of a sentence, talking to the women standing next to him, one of whom had asked him the question in the first place and was his boss, besides, and apparently he had just decided to turn his back on them midway through his answer.

Weir: How long before they get here? McKay: A day, maybe a day and a half, depending on if they need to make a hyperspace pause along the way. We'll need to cloak the city again. Weir: Even cloaked, the wraith are gonna wonder where the beacon came from. McKay: Well, then, we need a ruse. Um...

This is actually reminiscent of Sheppard walking up to his workstation in The Siege (S02E01) after McKay and Zelenka hail him and Weir to the control platform to inform them that there were twelve hive ships bearing on Atlantis, when Sheppard's main concern had been McKay getting some rest. While McKay had put some distance between them still feeling raw about the flying the jumper into the hive stunt, what Sheppard did then was to park himself right in front of McKay's workstation where we have seen him hanging out before (e.g., Aurora, S0209) because watching McKay work just so happens to be one of his favourite occupations. And not only that, but McKay is in many ways the nerve centre of Atlantis so if he wants to be up to date on things, being near McKay is the best bet for that.

Be that as it may, neither one of them says anything to acknowledge the other now, McKay just assuming that Sheppard is going to jump right in on the conversation and given that he was in radio contact with them before, it is likely he had been a part of this conversation while he was making his way to them. We can tell that McKay is Sheppard's primary focus in how he keeps his eyes fixed on McKay all the way up until McKay looks at him, they exchange the briefest of glances after which Sheppard casts his eyes down and then very pointedly looks to the side -- the side where the women are not, essentially just turning his eyes away from McKay rather than to look at something. But he steps even closer to McKay as he looks away meaning that him not looking at McKay is just for appearances, trying to make it seem a little less like he had made his way directly to McKay.

And so McKay takes a seat and it is interesting that his initial look at Sheppard is hidden by a man walking past just as McKay fixes his eyes on him. But then we see him looking up at Sheppard and he very obviously loses track of his thought as he looks at Sheppard's chest, even sucking in his lower lip. His eyes travel across Sheppard's torso like it is his tac vest that suddenly gives him an idea. More likely of course is that because his mind is occupied looking for a solution, McKay does not have enough bandwidth to not put his eyes where they so obviously want to go, to resist the natural inclination of his gaze. The look he gives Sheppard is honest yearning, and it is quite possible that allowing these two men to work together is criminal negligence at this point.

McKay: We'll take a transmitter and dump it along with some charred rubble on a beach on the mainland, and they'll think it's jetsam that washed up when the city exploded during the siege. Sheppard: Hang on, back up a second. Let me get this straight: you think our bomb guy did this?

McKay does his fist clap thing, patting the side of his fist twice, which usually signals his excitement over having an idea. We may note that Sheppard turns his face away from him again, looking to the side and away from McKay. He has not even glanced at the women so far, his focus is entirely on McKay. And so McKay comes up with what he thinks is a good idea to take care of their wraith problem and he looks up at Sheppard with a smile, hoping that he is as pleased with him as McKay is with himself over having thought of it. Also note the way he opens and closes his mouth as he looks up at Sheppard not because he intends on saying anything but seemingly just because his body is pliant under his gaze and his mouth wants to do things.

It seems as though Sheppard has a hard time concentrating also because when he asks McKay to back up here, he asks him to back way up. McKay had just now been talking about their wraith problem and he had made a comment about the bomb guy back before the emergency beacon had even gone off and they had all been focusing on the wraith since then. McKay had said: "Whoever planted the bomb must have devised a programme to upload itself and automatically dial the gate as backup in case the first dialling was halted," and this is what Sheppard was referring to, only now having processed what McKay had said then. The other alternative is that he once more was able to pick up something from McKay's mind and not from the words he was speaking. What ever it is, Sheppard is not afraid of letting McKay know that he does not understand something.

Also, let us just note the fact that they are focused on each other here. Both of them are turned toward the other and they have slipped into that world of their own, basically having this conversation with each other where Weir and Cadman are merely spectating. And it is not as they mean to do this or that they consciously shut other people out. It is just that they are oriented toward each other, and it is not merely intimacy that gives them a short-hand for communication that makes it difficult for outsiders to get a word in edgewise, it is also that both of them are intelligent and it may be difficult for others to keep up with their pace. And this is another example of Sheppard displaying his intelligence, able to essentially beta test McKay's theories. And again we see how Sheppard is focused on the why where McKay is focused on the how. Sheppard actually verbalizes this difference in how they think here:

McKay: Yes. It'd be easy for him to figure out that the wraith were in the area. We've been tracking them for a while now. Sheppard: So he gets the gate to dial by itself in order to distract us so he can broadcast a distress beacon that'll be picked up by... McKay: ...by the wraith, yes, I believe so. Sheppard: OK, why?

Not only does McKay literally finish Sheppard's sentence here, he also seems uncharacteristically patient and nonabrasive as he waits for Sheppard to process what ever thought is clearly gnawing at his mind here. We saw both during Lost Boys (S02E10) and Epiphany (S02E12) that McKay thinks that Sheppard is clever, and despite not having the same formal education, not having the understanding of Physics and Engineering McKay does, he has shown so many times how his different perspective is able to push McKay further. While both Cadman and Weir are fairly clever, they both just stand back and listen to the two of them puzzle this out, only emphasized by the shot of their faces watching the two men. And Sheppard's line of questioning here is actually what allows McKay to figure it out later that there is no bomb, the intention of the "bomb guy" had been to get them to use the ZPM to overload it and to explode taking the planet with it. It took them working together for him to figure this out.

Also: Sheppard has not looked at either woman at all during the whole scene. In fact, he does not look at them the whole entire scene and when Cadman tries to pipe in, he even turns his face away. It is McKay who even makes an effort to include the women in the discussion.

Cadman: Well, maybe he wants to blow up the wraith along with the city. McKay: Two cruisers. They're insignificant compared to all the hives hips that are still out there. Weir: Well, we don't have much time, so whatever the connection is, let's try to figure it out before the cruisers get here.

We see Sheppard shake his head minutely at Cadman's idea, clearly thinking the same thing that McKay says out loud and being none too friendly about it. This only emphasizes the indulgent response he had for Sheppard because he is willing to entertain Sheppard's line of questioning but he does not have time or energy to deal with nonsense. Sheppard is so pointedly looking away from them that you might think he was avoiding looking at Cadman or Weir for a reason, like he was avoiding their eyes. Only, he has no reason whatsoever to be doing that. It is McKay that he is not looking at, clearly unable to find a balance between looking at him with an intense focus and not looking at him at all. And yet he stays put as Weir leaves, clearly wanting to have a moment alone with McKay even if they are in public.

Come next morning, Sheppard walks into Weir's office and seems much more cozy with her. We do not know if any of them slept at all during the night but we may note that after staying with McKay when Weir walked out, Sheppard has again stripped his jacket and tac vest. Being that they are alone together and half-dressed in her office, this is another moment to tease their relationship in advance of The Long Goodbye (S02E16), distracting us from the actual date to meet up that Sheppard and McKay had earlier, after which Sheppard had likewise shed his outer layers. Given that it is now morning, it is entirely possible that it is straight from McKay that he has come here but there is a clear familiarity to how he walks right up to her to look at her laptop, and he may be doing it intentionally. He needs to make sure that they are on the same page if push comes to shove and he is forced to make some tough calls in the near future. From the looks of it, it appears that they have scheduled a meeting.

Sheppard: Passenger manifest? Weir: Yeah. Sheppard: Any names jump out? Weir: A few, actually. I hate this, having to suspect one of our own.

Note however that Sheppard does not lean over her shoulder to look at the screen but actually keeps a clear distance, twisting his body in an unnatural way just to keep from having it turned toward her. And you can tell that he has his body turned away from her by how he has to turn his head to look at her. Like he has done pretty much the whole time they have known each other, he keeps his pelvis pointing not at her. And while he leans his hands on her desk, he is also leaning away from her. This is not a relaxed pose but looks uncomfortable, and while Sheppard might be trying to put her at ease for what ever reason -- quite possibly to make sure that she makes the right calls here because, as we have seen, he does not take chances with McKay's safety. This is teetering on the brink of becoming a purely military matter, and Sheppard needs them to be able to work together if it does. He needs to make sure that although she stays in charge that Weir will make the calls that he needs her to make.

Sheppard: Unfortunately the list of suspects may not be limited to the Daedalus. Weir: You think the Trust operative might still be here in Atlantis? Sheppard: Well, with everything that's happened: the gate dialling by itself, the distress beacon...

Because keeping both McKay and Atlantis safe is important to Sheppard, it seems like his mind has been working overtime to figure out what might be going on, and he does not have time to sugarcoat things for her. We may also note that his issues seem to be specifically with the things that had happened to or near McKay, that had potentially put him in jeopardy. He smells a rat in their midst and they are going to have to flush it out, he is not going to rest until he finds out who it is and that they no longer pose a threat to McKay. Note also the way that Sheppard leans back just as soon as he has taken his seat, putting distance between them, and he further folds his arms in front of him, confirming that his earlier defensive posture when McKay and Ronon had been with them earlier had been about Weir and not the others. For what ever reason, Sheppard simply does not feel comfortable in her presence. And this is not about any lingering desires, secret longings for her touch, at least not on his part.

Weir: I don't know. Getting themselves blown up along with the city doesn't seem part of their MO. Sheppard: Well, all it takes is one nut to be talked into it. Weir: Wow. OK. Who around here do you suspect? McKay: What about Lieutenant Cadman, hmm?

McKay walks up to Weir's office and stops by the door, and it is unclear whether he had been invited to this meeting or he had just come looking for Sheppard since, as we learn in McKay and Mrs Miller (S03E08), McKay does not get out of bed as early as Sheppard and may have woken up to find him gone. It seems like at this time, although they do not live together (it is at the end of Irresistible (S03E03) that Sheppard moves back in with him), they have been spending more nights together sleeping-sleeping, probably as the result of Sheppard's long exile and need for companionship. What ever the reason, it is rather obvious that McKay had come here to find Sheppard.

Regardless, he walks up to them now and once more, just as McKay had done earlier, Sheppard seems to sense that he is coming even though he makes no sound to announce his arrival, and Sheppard turns his head to acknowledge him, giving him a brief glance before answering Weir. Let us also note the fact that neither change their tones or the topic of conversation as McKay walks in because even though we are meant to suspect everyone, Sheppard does not seem to keep any secrets from McKay. And although McKay's behaviour is a little shifty here, and the audience might be made to suspect him, Sheppard himself does not suspect McKay for an instant. There is literally no one else that he trusts more than McKay. In fact, he seems to use McKay as his "truth barometre."

Sheppard: What? McKay: Hear me out. She's an explosives expert. She was all set to leave on the Daedalus but asked to stay when "something came up." She's always around when things happen. When the distress beacon started-- Sheppard: She's one of the most trusted officers in my command...

McKay accuses Cadman, who just so happens to be one of the people that Sheppard had personally chosen for the mission, and his reasons on the choice seem to have been based purely on merit. Cadman is the kind of officer that would beat many of his male peers, and certainly has even had to have done that to advance within the USMC. Because Sheppard keeps his arms folded and pulls a face when McKay airs his suspicions, it is easy for people to interpret the two of them as being at odds for some reason at this time, as though the two of them were fighting with each other, exchanging those short but intense energy bursts like the wraith cruisers. It is easy to read Sheppard as taking offense at the fact that McKay suspects one of his people.

But given the expression Weir gives as she is listening to McKay's reasoning, he seems to have a valid point. It seems to her that maybe she should be on the list of suspects because she is among a select few people who would even have the expertise to pull this off. McKay's reasons for suggesting her may be personal but it does not make his reasoning faulty. But what is interesting is that McKay himself is the reason Sheppard seems to give her a pass. Not because McKay is a great judge of character (he isn't) but because he thinks that her time inside McKay's head is what vouches for her. She has been deeper inside McKay than even he has. He cannot think of a better letter of recommendation. These two men, they are not fighting. When McKay says things that Sheppard does not like hearing, he does not draw away from him but actually leans his head toward McKay. Even if their interaction here might be described as bickering, it is pulling them toward each other and not to pull away from one another.

Sheppard: ...not to mention the fact that she was stuck in your head for some time. McKay: Do you always have to keep bringing that up? Sheppard: I bring it up because you of all people should know: she'd never do something like that. McKay: Well, maybe she was brainwashed, huh?

What is interesting here is that they are in Weir's office, they are both facing her and it is as though they are talking to her when in fact they are talking to each other, having slipped into that world of their own again. And because McKay started making his case for Weir, it seems like it was Sheppard who shut her out of the conversation, who made them go into a back-and-forth that they both seem to find extremely comfortable. But although Sheppard may have facilitated it, it is McKay's "Do you always..." that makes this sound like a married couple squabbling in public. They are having a discussion that they seem to have had many times previously and are now looking for an arbiter for, someone to tell them who is being reasonable and who is not. Earlier Sheppard had asked McKay when he is going to stop being creeped out by her, clearly worried about him and not her. And McKay makes it sound like this topic has come up more than a few times, and in what contexts we do not know. What this tells us that they talk amongst themselves a whole hell of a lot more than we get to see.

But it seems very clear that for Sheppard the fact that she had been inside McKay's head is a point in her favour. Let us recall that even on her first mission, Sheppard had trusted her enough to put not only McKay but also the chief medical officer under her protection. Although he is doing this for a personal reason, McKay is not being unreasonable or necessarily even wrong but as far as Sheppard is concerned, nothing proves her worthiness as a person more than the fact that McKay had been willing to sacrifice himself to save her. He would not have trusted McKay into her protection now if that had not been the case.

McKay: The Goa'uld are very clever when it comes to things like manipulating-- Cadman: Excuse me. Doctor Weir. Weir: Yes? Cadman: Flight just confirmed that the Daedalus has landed alongside the east pier. Weir: Thank you.

The old adage says that when you speak of the Devil, he shall appear and so Cadman walks in when McKay is mid-rant. Although Cadman gives him a dark look and MCKay himself certainly looks like he has egg on his face, it is unlikely that Cadman had overheard enough to be able to tell that they were talking about her. As far as she knew, they were discussing the Goa'uld. But McKay feels mortified, and what ever look Sheppard gave him as he got up from his chair that we did not get to see but which McKay was able to read as clear as day seems not to have helped his situation any.

But I want to point out this: we see Sheppard turn his face toward McKay as he speaks, and even from the position of his ear as we are given shots of Weir over his shoulder we can see that he keeps looking at McKay. And not only that, but he full on leans into McKay's space here. He even unfolds his arms toward the end, and it is not caused by the arrival of Cadman. Sheppard does not have beef with McKay here. He only intends to keep McKay safe. Even from himself.

Continued in Pt. 6