#i feel like a lot of people don't know these packs exist so i wanted to share

[ecofear]

Wanna play The Sims 1 or The Sims 2 for free? Here you go!

The Sims 1 Starter Pack

The Starter Pack is an all-in-one source for obtaining, installing, and optimizing TS1 on modern hardware.

The Sims 2 Starter Pack

NSIS-based installer for installing & optimizing The Sims 2 Ultimate Collection. Provides the full Ultimate Collection (free Origin version from 2014 with all packs/updates) and bonus content, including fixes needed for modern systems.

[3amfanfiction]

For the worms: Johnny prescribing to the idea “sharing is caring” when his newest girlfriend makes it past the two months mark (something previously thought impossible), don’t worry guys, it’s not “my girlfriend” she’s “our girlfriend”

Oh Temp you know the way to my heart. I love a good 'our girlfriend' moment. There's something so delicious about the entitlement of it, it lends a certain flavor that tickles my fancy. poly 141 x fem!reader. 7k words about (unknowingly) being the team's girlfriend. This is nothing but smut, enjoy!

~~~~

He knew you were the one the first time he met you.

You got him, in ways no one else ever had. You got his energy, his excitement, his need for stimulation. He knew he could be a lot but he also knew he'd never been too much. He'd just been waiting for someone like you.

He never listened when the guys wanted to dog on him saying no one would put up for long with how much he talked. He was a chatty guy, okay? He had a lot of thoughts running through his head and he wanted to share them with people. You never knew which thoughts were going to be strokes of genius until they're spoken after all.

And while he would talk about anything under the sun, he talked about his team most of all. Probably more than he should if he was being completely honest but it was hard not to talk about the people he loved. He was talking about you to them just as much after all. The two halves of his life overlapping as often as he could make them.

But you loved it. You loved him. It was obvious every time you told him to make sure he ate lunch as he was headed out the door, lunch bag swinging from his hand, bursting with goodies you'd packed up the night before. Every time you texted him first, took his trash with yours to throw away, brushed your hand down his arm in greeting, always winding up with your fingers tangled together as he pulled you in for a kiss. Your whole existence showed how much you loved him.

It was fate. It was perfect. It was another sign it was meant to be that it was your 2-month anniversary when you broke the news to him as you were walking him to the door one morning. He'd stayed over the night before because he knew he was going to be working late tonight so you both celebrated one day early. And what a celebration it had been. He'd stolen his three kisses at the door and was getting ready to step over the threshold when he realized just how big your heart was and the fact that you truly were listening whenever he spoke.

"Tell your team I said hi," you said, smiling sweetly up at him, sleep shirt rumpled and hair a gorgeous mess, "there's extra muffins for everyone in your bag."

Oh.

He hadn't realized—but that was okay—he should've noticed—poor lass, had he not been holding up his side of the relationship? The part where you support your partner and their needs and wants? He hadn't seen what you wanted but he understood now. You'd made your feelings known and who was he to stand in the way?

Beaming down at you he peppered your face with kisses, holding your cheeks firmly between his wide palms. Words broken up with the showering of kisses, "I'll tell them love, don't you worry—I'll tell them."

Best anniversary ever.

—

You were pleased with how your day had gone. You'd spent it picking up the house, doing a grocery run, you spent a good few hours on your hobby, and started on a dinner that would get you through lunches for the rest of the week. Your day left you feeling good so you threw on your comfiest t-shirt and sleep shorts combo and camped out on the sofa while dinner finished in the oven.

It startled you when you heard a key being inserted into your lock but you were reassured when you heard Johnny's voice on the other end. You weren't sure how he managed to talk his way into getting a key to your house so quickly but he had a way of lovingly worming his way into any opening you left. He had nearly convinced you to move in with him just last week before you realized what he was doing and put a stop to it. The man had a golden tongue.

In more ways than one.

You popped up over the couch to say hi when you were met with more than just your boyfriend. Another person stood looming at his back, dwarfing the man who made you feel small. You weren't sure what face you were making as you looked up at them, unsure of what was going on but not immediately worried. Johnny had told you enough stories that you were able to clock the man standing with him almost immediately.

"Love, this is Simon."

Right on the money.

"He's come for dinner. The other two were jealous they were gonna miss out on your cooking but they had prior plans. Just know they'd be here if they could."

What? Why was he making it sound like a hallmark moment? You tilted your chin up for a kiss as he came over to the couch, holding still while he cupped your face and pressed his hungry mouth to yours. You pulled away abashed at the racy kiss in front of company. Putting your hand to Johnny's face when it was clear he was coming in for a second go you addressed them both.

"I didn't realize either of you were coming for dinner." Your voice dropped to a whisper, "Johnny! I'm not even dressed."

"You look perfect love," he assured, looking over your outfit. "Besides, it's only Simon. And I've seen you in less. Much less." He leered at you with a smarmy smile and you couldn't help but laugh. He had a point, and you were decent, just a little rattier than you'd prefer when meeting someone for the first time. Hopefully Simon wouldn't hold it against you.

You climbed off the couch and went to greet your guest before moving to the kitchen, calling out to Johnny to set the table and get drinks ready. You hadn't planned on feeding anyone other than yourself tonight but with a creative side dish or two you had enough to go around. You'd just need to find something else for lunch but that was a problem for tomorrow. For tonight you had people to feed and you wouldn't let them go hungry.

By the time dinner was over you had a new appreciation for your boyfriend's teammate. While not particularly verbose he wasn't shy about making his opinions known. And his opinions seemed to be overwhelmingly positive.

"That was the best meal I've had in ages, dove."

You felt your cheeks heat as you smiled at him, "Thank you, Simon. It's one of my favorite dishes, I'm glad you liked it."

You looked over to see Johnny beaming as he looked back and forth between the two of you, happy as a clam to see you getting along so well. He looked like he was mentally patting himself on the back at the successful dinner. Like he had orchestrated something that was finally coming to fruition. It would be worrying if you didn't know your boyfriends penchant for good naturedly dipping his fingers into things. Nothing to do but wait and see what scheme he was cooking up in his brain.

—

You had piled the last dish into the sink when Johnny came up and wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing along your neck. It sent a shiver down your spine at the unexpected touch, goosebumps popping up all along your arms before you relaxed back into him.

He was warm—heat radiating off him in waves as he pulled you to stand in front of him, turned to face him with a smile. He grinned back at you, overjoyed at having your attention.

Raising your arms you looped them around his neck, pressing close as you leaned up for a proper kiss. For all that he had sprung company on you, you were happy to see him and you had missed him today. You'd quickly found that he carved a niche out for himself, wiggling into your psyche like he belonged and conforming it around him. Now when he was gone you were left staring at an empty hole that used to be filled.

Your thoughts were pleasantly scattered, a warm contented haze settled over your mind when you felt another body slide up behind you.

You yanked your head away from Johnny only for the back of it to thud against Simon's shoulder, him penning you in between the two of them. Your felt a little like those sheep you saw in videos, held in place by a machine while they were manipulated to their owners liking. You tilted your head with a frown, trying to push back on him or away from Johnny, whichever would get you a little bit of space.

"What are you doing?"

You froze as one thick arm curled around your waist, big hand spread wide over the pudge of your stomach while the other snaked its way up your torso. He gripped your chin firmly from behind, moving you to face Johnny once more.

"Don't stop now, it was just getting good."

Johnny didn't hesitate for a moment to dive back down and press his lips to yours once more, moaning into your mouth and humping his hips forward subconsciously. You tried to turn your head to catch your breath but Simon kept you still, holding you trapped in the heady spill of Johnny's tongue and lips as they devoured yours.

You were limp by the time he eventually pulled back, a panting mess with spit-slicked lips and blown-out eyes. You looked up at him with your mind reeling until you felt another set of lips making their home on the column of your neck.

You flinched . . . or you tried to. You didn't get far with how Simon was pinning you back against his body. You turned worried eyes up towards Johnny, sure this was about to set him off, maybe start an argument about boundaries and how you were with him, Simon wasn't allowed to swan in and start taking liberties for himself.

Instead what you saw was Johnny's pupils eclipsing his irises as he strove to burn the image into his retinas. Greedy want was present in every line of his face as he watched his teammate kiss along his girlfriend's neck. That look mixed in with the shock of teeth Simon had just introduced caused you to let out a ragged gasp, filling the quiet kitchen air with your sound.

"Fuck LT," Johnny croaked, "Just like that."

"Johnny, what—" your voice wobbled as you squirmed in place—Simon finding every sensitive spot along your neck with ease. "What's going on?"

"I'm sorry, lass. When you told me this morning . . . I hadn't realized this was something you were wanting. I didn't see it." He looked contritely down at you, eyes flickering over to where Simon was pressing hot, wet kisses just behind your ear before darting back to yours, "But we're here now. All of us—as a team."

"I don't understand, I never said I wanted thi-IS." You ended on a yelp as the man at your back took the tip of your ear between his teeth and pinched. You swatted back at him, pushing against his forehead as he chuckled. It was almsot mean, like he liked the sound of your squeal.

"Settle down," he smirked, releasing your ear after a moment, holding it long enough to drive home that he was releasing you of his own will. "no need to cause a commotion. Like he said, we're here now."

The to stay was heavily implied by the weight of his words.

Before you knew it Johnny had leaned down once more, taking your mouth in his while Simon made headway on covering every inch of your neck with his teeth and tongue. It was a whirlwind. Groping hands slid under clothing to pull them off while trailing kisses on every new bit of cleared skin as they urged you to the bedroom. By the time you were sprawled back on the center of the mattress you'd been stripped as bare as the day you were born. Limbs akimbo. Chest heaving with gasped breaths. Unsure how you ended up here.

You watched the two men finish removing the last of their clothes before they crawled in with you, bodies pressing a wash of hot skin to yours, causing you to arch into the sensation. Simon took possession of your mouth while Johnny dove headfirst between your legs.

Your gasp at the first long stroke of his tongue along your seam was all the opening Simon needed. Caught between the double sensation of tongues, it was no surprise you quickly became a panting mess. You attempted to keep your hips from hitching but it was a losing battle, your body's instinctive reaction to get closer to the source of euphoria.

Meanwhile Simon had coaxed your tongue into his mouth and was nibbling and sucking on it in turns, your jaw cradled in his wide palm, tilting you exactly as he wanted. When you pulled your tongue back into your own mouth he took that as leave to begin tracing your lips with the point of his, dipping just inside to take sips at your mouth. Acting as if you were something to be savored. Enjoyed.

He reached down to pinch at your nipples, tugging them into hard peaks only to soothe them with his thumb when you complained. The first time you pulled away with a yip he pressed apologizing kisses down your neck and collar, ending at the abused nipple to take it into his mouth. He laved the sensitive flesh, whispering sweet words into your soft skin.

"Sorry, pretty girl, didn't mean to be so rough." Kisses and light nips with his teeth. How were his kisses so good? "We'll start gentle, yeah? Only soft touches for you tonight."

Moving back up to your mouth once more, he held you still while Johnny had you moaning, keeping your mouth fused to his, not letting you pull away for a single breath. You had to suffice yourself with stealing air when you could, an endless battle between your need to breathe and Simon's consuming kisses. You were lightheaded and woozy by the time you were able to properly pull away.

Drinking down greedy gasps of oxygen—anything to stop your swirling head. You looked down your body to see Johnny perched between your thighs, his bright blue eyes visible as he looked up at you from the cradle of your hips, paused to watch the two of you with adoration. You reached a free hand down to grab his hair, holding him in place and grinding your cunt against his mouth. Your fist clenched tightly as he went back to eating with gusto.

It was impossible for you to stay still, continuously squirming and humping your hips up into his face, chasing your high. Simon reached down and pressed a firm hand to your pelvis, pinning you in place.

"Don't you know how to keep our girl still? Do you let her squirm like this whenever I'm not here?" At Johnny's broken protest he scoffed, "Christ, I knew you needed direction, Johnny boy, but I never realized it was this bad."

Johnny muffled his dissenting keen into your wet heat at his words, humping down onto the mattress like he was the one unable to stay still. Simon looked at you and grinned meanly.

"Well, doll? How about it? Does he give you what you need or does he let you walk all over him?"

You were unable to do anything but shake your head in negation, no verbal response forthcoming. Simon turned to look down at Johnny once more.

"Well? Do I need to show you how to do it properly?" He cocked an eyebrow as he looked down his nose when Johnny drew back from your warmth, separating to draw in a few deep breaths, "It doesn't look like you know what you're doing down there." Simon reached down and palmed the back of Johnny's head, pushing him further into your cunt. "Get a good taste. I wanna see drool dripping down your chin by the time you're done. You should have slick up to your ears and she should be drenched down to the bedsheets." He ignored both of your moans, "Didn't realize I'd have to order you around in the bedroom too, just an unruly little pup, aren't you?"

The constant flow of words from his lieutenant only caused Johnny to become more fervored. Licking into you with abandon, he shifted to free one hand, moving up to press two fingers all the way to the knuckles in one fell swoop. Your wetness ensuring he slid in with no difficulties, a smooth glide with only the stretch to betray the insertion.

You couldn't help the moan that slipped out. A great climbing thing that started deep in your chest and worked its way out of your throat with a rumble. It was the work of moments for you to be right on the edge standing at the precipice, looking down onto your first orgasm of the night.

"There we go Johnny, you've got it now. That's just what she needed, huh? Needed a couple of fingers stuck up into her, something to squeeze. We can help her out with that."

Listening to Simon continue to rumble filth into the air and watching him lean down to press his mouth to Johnny's ear, whispering murmured words you couldn't make out was all you needed for that final push.

The heat that had been steadily building coalesced in your lower back and thighs, the visual of the two of them all the spark you needed to set it alight. Your toes curled and your back arched as you tried to get closer to where Johnny was sucking on your clit with pursed lips. A sobbed Johnny! all you were able to verbalize through the onslaught.

Coming back to yourself you were met with Johnny and Simon watching you with avarice, greedy for every expression that crossed your face. You focused on Johnny and saw an absolutely drenched face. He heard what Simon had said about slick from ear to ear and had made sure to accomplish it. Order received and all that. You would be mortified if you didn't feel so good.

You were limp as they moved to rearrange you, Simon sliding in behind your back as Johnny moved to kneel between your thighs, hard cock bobbing in the air. You felt Simon's wet head kissing the small of your back and tried to grind back—give him some sort of satisfaction in this ménage à trois you had happening.

He reached down to snag your hips, stilling you and pressing his mouth directly to your ear, hot air brushing the sensitive skin as he murmured, "None of that now. My turn will be later, we're focusing on Johnny this time."

And focus on Johnny you did. He shuffled himself forward, wasting no time in sinking home into your wet heat. Dual groans punched out of both of your chests as he fully seated himself in one go. You panted—breathing through the stretch as he did the same, trying to stop himself from reaching the finish line prematurely.

Simon didn't wait for you to regain your composure, he held two fingers up to your mouth tapping on your lower lip, "Suck pet," before he dragged them down to your clit, circling the puffy bundle of nerves still sensitive from Johnny's prior ministrations. He picked up a steady rhythm as Johnny gave the first tentative thrust. You couldn't help but clench down, enjoying the hitched moan it pulled out of him.

He recovered quickly and set out to pull those same moans from you, wanting every sound that dripped from your lips. He was relentless in his chase, making sure to use all the tips and tricks he'd picked up over the last couple of months to wring out every iota of satisfaction he could. He leaned forward, pinning Simon's hand between your bodies.

"Tell us how it feels, love," he panted into your mouth, pressing bruising kisses to your lips. "How good is my cock making you feel?"

Try as you might, you couldn't do more than chant his name, a steady stream of Johnny falling from your tongue. He was consuming your every thought, everything bound up in a tangled snarl that was added to with each slick glide of his cock.

Simon pulled his fingers away from your clit but didn't move his hand, keeping it pinned as he reached further down to do something to Johnny. All you were witness to was the way his eyes went wide and unfocused, a little furrow making its appearance on his brow as he paused and pressed into Simon's hand. He let out a sharp yip at whatever Simon was doing before finally moving back, giving the other man room to return to strumming your clit unimpeded.

You were caught between the push and pull of the two of them. Simon resting at your back to whisper lewd words directly into your brain while Johnny made his home inside of you, carving out a space that would always remember him.

It was overwhelming.

You normally turned into a pile of putty with only Johnny's hands on you. Now that there were two of them? You felt like you never knew where the next touch would come from. You would only just find a way to breathe with the circling of your clit for hands to suddenly make their appearance at your nipples. Come to terms with fingers at your nipples just to feel teeth latch onto your neck. They kept you guessing with each movement.

Johnny was doing an admirable job of building you towards your next peak, soft rolls of his hips stroking every sensitive spot inside of you, but apparently it wasn't enough for Simon.

"Hitch her hips up, Johnny. I want you fucking her like you mean it." He stared Johnny down, "If you can't put your back into it then I can relieve you."

"I know how to do it," Johnny sniped back, "Don't forget, I've been in her bed a lot longer than you have." You jolted, unused to having such a harsh tone in your house, let alone in your bed.

Simon saw your jerk and quipped back, "Behave, pup. I won't have you barking and growling around our girl." Simon slid out from behind you, laying you gently back on the pillows with one lingering kiss before coming around to Johnny's side. "Now are you going to listen to what I say or do you need me to step in?"

Johnny chewed on his words, still slowly pumping into you with soft propels of his hips. For a moment you were certain he was going to push back, to dig his feet in and argue with every word that came out of Simon's mouth. Your boyfriend was sweet, but not exactly levelheaded. It surprised you when he came to a decision and listened to what he was being told. You'd have to sneak aside later and get tips and tricks from Simon before he left. Anything to make your life a little easier.

Taking your hips he stuffed a pillow underneath, angling you upwards as he slid back inside. Your matching moans at the new position caused something almost gleeful to cross Simon's expression.

"There we go, I knew you had it in you to mind. You just needed someone bigger to put you in your place, didn't you?"

Johnny had no rebuttal beyond the stuttering of his hips at the comment, swallowing heavily before resuming his rhythm. The steady thwaps filled the humid air of the bedroom, playing background to your whines, Johnny's harsh pants and Simon's filth.

"There we go, just like that," he murmured, voice low and soft, "You're taking it so well sweetheart, is our boy doing a good job for you?"

"Yes," you panted, eager to agree to anything as long as they didn't stop, "So good."

"You hear that Johnny? Said you're doing a good job."

Johnny outright whimpered at the praise, hips stuttering and breath catching in his throat. Simon leaned over Johnny's shoulder and pressed his lips right against his ear. You watched his jaw move as he spoke—voice too low to make out any of the words. Johnny's face was a rictus of pleading pleasure. His expression frozen except for small twitches of his eyebrows, gaze shuttered and staring at your face as he panted. He lasted a few more thrusts before burying himself deeply with a low cry.

Simon laughed scornfully, "Ah poor Johnny boy, did you come already?" He listened to Johnny's overstimulated whine as he grabbed his hips and kept Johnny pushing into you, the wet squelch only proving that he was fucking his spend deeper inside. "Well I don't care if it's too much. You came before our girl, we can't have that." He gave a mean smile, "you're gonna keep fucking her until I tell you to quit."

"I—I can't Simon," Johnny panted, overstimulated nerves causing his muscles to spasm and twitch. "I can't go anymore."

"You want to stop? Then ask me nicely. Go ahead," Simon taunted, a wicked grin curving along his mouth, "Beg."

It was exactly the right wrong thing to say. You watched as Johnny's mouth fell open and his head tilted back, shiny tears springing up along his waterline to spill out from the corners as you felt another warm wave of heat inside. His second orgasm seemed to wring every bit out of him—his face locked in a pained grimace.

He tried to jerk backwards, tried to pull his hips from yours but Simon wasn't having it. He dug his fingers tightly into your hips, arms wrapped around either side of Johnny's waist and pressed firmly against his back, pinning Johnny between the two of you and not giving the whimpering man an inch of space.

"I told you, you're not done until she comes." Using his own hips he helped propel Johnny into you, helping you move to grind on Johnny's dick at the end of each thrust. "You know what you need to do to finish this."

"Please," the other man burst out, unable and willing to withhold any longer, "Please, Simon, need your help. Need you to help me." Tears continued rolling down his cheeks.

"That's all I needed, sweet boy."

Moving one of his hands he dropped his thumb onto your clit after swiping up along your slit, pausing to tease right beneath the head of Johnny's cock on a pullback just to hear him whimper again. With the slick pressure rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves combined with the relentless fucking and stunning visual you were falling apart within moments.

Light burst behind your eyes and your ears started ringing. You knew you were clenching tightly around Johnny's cock but you were unable to spare the thought to see what he looked like as you came. You fell back into your body as the sensations died down, literally falling back onto the bed where you had been arched so sharply only your shoulders were still touching.

As you became aware of your surroundings you watched Simon allow Johnny to pull back, both of you whining at the sensation of him pulling out completely. He flopped to one side of the bed while his chest heaved like bellows, a ruddy flush covering his face and chest. Shiny sweat lined his brow, glistening in the dim evening light.

You didn't have time to rest or take in your boyfriend for long before you were grabbed by the hips, Simon's fingers digging into your plush sides as he pulled you into a position he liked.

Your legs were thrown over his forearms before you realized it, feet dangling in the air and hands coming up to grasp onto his shoulders. As he leaned forward you acutely realized how powerless you were, pinned completely beneath his bulk, no leverage to be seen to get you out.

You looked at him with wide eyes, your own heaving chest causing your pebbled nipples to brush up against his torso, teasing little flicks of sensation to add to everything running through your body.

He notched himself at your entrance with a groan, swiping back and forth, coating the head in your wetness. Finding an angle he liked, he began pushing in.

You whimpered at the burn as he stretched you, even still after Johnny had just had you. You shuddered thinking about taking him without being stretched first, likely a harrowing undertaking. He continued rocking back and forth with small thrusts, each one inching deeper and deeper. Each withdraw causing more of both yours and Johnny's come to escape.

"I know it's a lot, but you can take it. All the way in, all the way to the back, sweetheart."

It knocked the breath out of your lungs when he seated himself inside. A heavy weight felt through your pelvis as his length pried apart muscle to make room for itself. You were afraid you'd feel him inside for the rest of your life. Another gaping chasm when he wasn't there.

It took him the space of a few heartbeats to get situated before he began to move with rhythm, a strong, steady roll of his hips knocking you up the bed with each drive.

Whatever remaining thoughts you might have had spilled out your ears. Nothing able to penetrate the fog he was putting you in with his movements. Your brain became a haze—no worries, no fears—nothing but the feelings he was stoking inside you.

Each time he slid in full you felt him kiss your cervix at the back of your channel. The quick pinch only increasing the pleasure you felt. The mix of the two giving gradients that weren't usually seen, hues bursting behind your eyelids at the sensation.

Proportionately large, he touched every soft spot inside of you simultaneously, a constant wave of endorphins flooding your brain and leaving you a gibbering mess. You clawed at him looking for purchase but unable to find any, inescapably swept away in his tide.

How did you end up here? Under the body of your boyfriends best friend. Because he was his best friend, no matter that Simon would never verbalize it. They were two sides of a coin—better together.

You let your head flop to the side, looking at Johnny passed out and half hanging off the bed on the far side, snuffling breaths a steady back-drone to the slap of skin on skin from you and Simon. You were out of your mind with pleasure, brain unable to spark two neurons together to come up with a thought. It was all white noise to you, unable to focus on anything other than the sensations Simon was drawing from your body.

That was why it was so jarring when two more bodies made their presence known standing beside you on the bed, wide shoulders blocking out the light leaving them draped in shadows.

You let out a huff of a startled scream, no breath in your lungs to get proper volume when hands came up to tweak your nipple and tuck your hair back from your sweaty forehead.

Simon gave a rumbling groan as all your muscles clenched and you bucked up in fear, tossing your head to try and get them off of you. You started to whimper and bat haphazardly at their hands trying to pull yourself away from Simon at the same time but the grip he had on your hips didn't allow you to go anywhere.

"Shh," he gentled, "you're okay, nothing here's gonna hurt you, sweet girl." He never slowed his thrusts, "It's just the rest of the team. That's Gaz and that's the captain." Bone-jarring thuds as his pelvis met the fat of your backside, sharp slap slap slaps echoing through the room.

"What?" you stammered, "I—I thought that—"

"Didn't think we'd let anything happen to you, did you?" he asked with furrowed brows, "Let something happen to our girl?" he scoffed in amusement. "Try again."

Oh. That's—that wasn't—you weren't—

But you couldn't verbalize any of your thoughts. You'd thought you'd been at the end of your stamina before but these two men brought fresh energy to the bedroom. Looking at both of them you recognized Kyle and John from all of Johnny's stories.

"Have you been taking good care of our girl, Simon?"

"Yes sir, Johnny gave her two and I'm working towards a third."

"Good man."

With the team complete the dynamic subtly changed. Where before it had been Simon giving the orders, he now defaulted to his captain, happy to let him take the lead as he directed Kyle and Simon to his own beat.

It was the work of minutes for John and Kyle to strip each other and climb into the crowded bed to join you.

You were too fucked out to muster any proper response so you let them move you as they pleased, content to be a doll placed into the perfect position.

Kyle moved to cuddle up to you up near your face, the cut of his abs all you could focus on for a second before you dragged your gaze up to his face. He smiled down at you charmingly, perched up on an elbow to hover over you, ensuring he was all you could see for a moment.

"We've heard so much about you," he murmured, holding his smile while looking gorgeous enough to stop your heart. "I can't believe we're finally all here together."

Heard so much about you? What had Johnny been telling them? What had he been sharing about your personal life to his team that they thought this was normal? You didn't get a chance for the thoughts to make more than a fleeting impression before they were gone again—the finger on your clit requiring your full attention.

You looked down past Kyle to see John with a hand between your thighs, stroking at the bud before dipping down to gather the wetness that was still being pulled out of you by Simon who hadn't paused. He ran his fingers along where you two joined, dampening his fingertips before resuming his stroking. You couldn't keep still at the sensation, legs jerking and jumping as your nervous system tried to make heads or tails of what was happening to it.

He made short work of coaxing you back into another orgasm, sparks lighting up behind your eyelids as you convulsed, squeezing Simon between your legs and gripping the hand that Kyle had threaded through yours for dear life. Your hips stuttered in their movement, caught between chasing the last sparks of pleasure and pulling away from the steadily overwhelming sensations John was easing out.

It was a relief when he pulled away, letting you begin making headway in catching your breath once more. You watched him reach up with his slick hand to clasp Simon by the back of the neck.

"All right, my boy, now for you."

Simon took this as all the permission he needed to chase his own end with a vengeance. He rutted into you with no finesse, using you for his own gratification as he allowed himself the orgasm he had been denying. It took no time at all before he sunk as deeply as possible, holding there as he emptied himself into you. You felt the heat of him filling you, his cock acting like a stopper keeping it all tucked tight and high inside your channel.

When he eventually pulled back a wave of fluid came with him, dripping down to the bed and coating your thighs. You couldn't do more than gasp—still working on catching your breath. Your head flopped over to look at Kyle, holding your hand clenched in his. He smiled at you and came in for a kiss.

At this point you didn't even think of turning your head away. You simply laid there and let him into your mouth, this man who you technically hadn't even met but who you felt like you'd known for years. All of Johnny's stories doing a wonderful job of painting these three men in such a way you were sure you'd met them a hundred times before.

Kyle's kiss was all consuming. He masterfully played with your lips and tongue, keeping you chasing him while he devoured you. It was wet and obscene and so, so good. He tasted faintly of peppermint, remnants of gum or a mint he had chewed earlier. It had you searching the corners of his mouth, looking for his flavor.

He smiled into the kiss before pressing two quick pecks to your lips and pulling back, giving you space to think. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been fucked six ways from Sunday," you managed, cueing a round of laughter from the three men. By now you'd caught your breath and were watching them with wide eyes, waiting to see what they'd do next. Simon had moved to sit over next to Johnny as John patted at your hip.

"Do you think you have one more in you or are you calling it?" he asked, looking unbothered by what your answer might be. Like he knew this wasn't the only time he'd have you in this position and being lenient was no trouble.

You nodded your head firmly, "I can keep going."

"Atta girl."

You felt your face heat at those words as your gaze darted away, embarrassed at how much you liked it. Even while you were spread out bare for them to view this felt like a peek behind the curtain, a glimpse of something too personal to make light of. You had a feeling you could climax from him whispering those words in your ear with his deep rumble at just the right time.

Without a doubt John realized what effect his words had on you if his amused grin was any indication. Thankfully he let it be, not calling attention to your expression. You didn't know he was shelving the thought until later; he had no intention of not pursuing the lead.

Helping you up he turned you so you were on your hands and knees facing Kyle with John's heat radiating into the back of your thighs. He checked in with an Okay, sweetheart? which you reassured him on before he pressed close as Kyle shuffled forward. Slotting his hips into yours he dragged his leaking cock through the mess between your thighs, the damp head bumping against your clit in a tease with each thrust.

"We've heard a lot about you," John noted, trailing a hand along your spine, enjoying the feel of smooth, soft skin. "Soap has practically talked our ears off since you met. Along with how amazing you are, he makes sure to tell us how pretty you are and how nice you smell." You felt him leaning over you and pressing his nose to the crown of your head, "I've gotta say, he was right on all accounts."

A shudder worked its way down your spine at the praise.

Pulling back, he lined himself up with your opening and slid inside in one smooth stroke. As your mouth dropped open to moan Kyle tapped the tip of your tongue with his cock, encouraging you to stick it out for him. He pressed inside when you did and you groaned deep in your throat at his flavor, salt and musk invading your nose as he cupped your head gently between his two palms, holding you steady.

You thought you had been done before, no longer able to continue, to ride the wave of ecstasy any more. They proved you wrong with their wandering hands tweaking nipples and strumming your clit.

It felt like it had been years and minutes both as they bounced you between the two of them. You would grow accustomed to the shape of Kyle in your throat only for John to pull you back, rearranging your organs with the strength of his thrusts.

You didn't know which way was up, your only concern was timing your breaths to Kyle's thrusts, keeping your teeth tucked away from any sensitive skin. Hollowing your cheeks you fought to keep suction, John doing his level best to ensure you couldn't find a comfortable rhythm.

The whole time you were spinning tighter and tighter. A wave building down deep behind your bellybutton, fed with each thrust from the two men. Your body welcoming them in.

The wave continued to build, higher and higher. Larger than you'd ever thought possible. It was awe-inspiring and terrifying in equal measures.

What was going to become of you when it crashed? Were you going to be able to be put back together or would you be destined to live out your life as shattered remains, always thinking back to the last night you'd been whole, the last night you hadn't needed others to hold you together like Kintsugi.

John continued thrusting behind you, never stopping, never faltering. He was relentless and driven and you were the finish line he had set his eyes on. You were the end goal that he would see through, come hell or high water.

It sparked something dark deep within your psyche. Something decadent.

Your last climax of the night rolled over you. Starting down low in your abdomen it grew and grew, fed into by each of the men that you had let into your bed tonight. It became too large to ignore, this gaping maw of want that was flooding your blood and your brain, changing your chemical makeup in its wake. You were pretty sure you screamed.

Both of their pants came harshly now as they fought for some semblance of control beyond the tight clutch of your cunt and throat.

John finished next, stamina no match for the silken glide of your cunt, sucking the oxygen from his blood with each press inside of you. But Kyle was shortly behind him. If you didn't know any better you'd say the sight and sound of his captain coming is what pushed him over the edge.

Certainly something to think about later.

It's comforting hands that helped you lay down once you were done, tucked between Simon and Kyle, Johnny still passed out with his foot and arm draped off the side. You were curled into Kyle's chest as you watched John pull on a pair of boxers.

"I'll go get us some water and towels, you all stay put."

You were far to exhausted to think of the ramifications of what had happened here tonight. Instead you were content to curl into warm skin and enjoy the feeling of Simon's arm thrown around your waist.

When John came back with the water you had a moment of laughter when you realized the bed was packed full with the four of you currently and there wasn't a spare inch for John to lay down. Instead he went to sit at the foot, tapping Kyle's feet so he would curl his legs up a bit.

"Anybody broken?" He asked, staring at you while he spoke. It was clear he expected you to be the one to voice any discontent.

"Nope," you yawned, crashing hard now that you were laying still, "right as rain."

"Good. We'll talk this all over in the morning sweetheart. For now, sleep."

Kyle kissed your forehead while Simon curled around you tighter. Tomorrow. You could figure it all out tomorrow. That sounded like a wonderful plan considering you were already drifting away to the soft sounds of breathing.

Next

[spiderwcd]

sense | c.b.

pairing: colby brock x medium ! f ! reader

summary: colby meets a new medium for their video, but he didn't expect to have a crush on her 

w.c.: 5.4k

warning(s): talk about paranormal, creepy activity, a lil steamy moment

a/n:  like sleep tight, the hauntings are made up and the story line does not exist. i do want to add that, i suck at writing a lot of like investigative stories so please don’t judge me. also I had requests for this type of story, ironically I was already working on it so hope you guys enjoy it

images from pinterest !

"Is anyone gonna join us?" Colby asked, packing his camera into his bag. 

"Actually, yeah, some girl that Celina referred from the home town," Sam replied. "She's supposed to be a medium." He added. 

The two guys finally we're going to investigate the infamous orphanage that is supposedly haunted by the spirits of the children that died. They had finally done the research and were ready to go investigate. 

"Cool, what's this girl's name?" Colby inquired. 

"Uhm, I think it's y/n?" Sam stopped to think, pulling out his phone. "Yeah, I texted her this morning letting her know we're going to catch a flight there, she's our ride." Sam chuckled, putting away his phone into his pocket. 

Colby let the name sit in his brain for a little, hoping to remember it later. It wasn't long before they were on their flight there. It was quite a while, editing and looking over their notes. 

When they landed, Sam kept searching for her face and Colby totally lost who they were supposed to look for. Sam's eyes soon lit up, recognizing her in the crowd. He waved at her, bringing her attention towards them. 

Colby finally noticed who they looked for, catching a glimpse of her. He felt his body heat up, flustered at her beauty. She was gorgeous, her hair running down her shoulders and her smile radiating through the crowds of people passing, he was surprised he didn't notice her earlier. She'd look like your typical medium, having a great style in all black, wearing an oversized band shirt, black sleeves underneath that hung over her jeans. 

"Hey guys!" Y/n greeted them, hugging Sam then moving over to Colby.

Colby felt his heart flutter and couldn't help but take her scent in, practically intoxicating. As she pulled away from her embrace, Colby couldn't help but feel disappointed. She offered them a smile and a hand with their luggage, but they declined the help. 

They moved their things into her car, ready for the trip over to their hotel. On the way there, she played music that practically matched Colby's taste. He felt as if he found his soulmate then and there. 

Sam kept asking her about herself and getting to know her. 

"So tell me, what type of medium are you?" Sam wondered. "If you don't mind me asking, of course." 

"It's okay, I like answering these, well, it's weird but I sorta have different types of abilities," Y/n began, steering the wheel. "I can let spirits communicate through me, so I'll channel them into my consciousness, letting them talk." She answered. 

"Other abilities? like what?" Colby asked, curious as he leaned forward in his seat.

"Well, I'm sure you have other mediums with my ability to see beyond what you guys can see," Y/n chuckled, amused at their curiosity. "I sort of have a heightened sense and I can see actual spirits walking around and hear whispers." 

"You know, I think you're the only medium we met who can just surrender themselves to let spirits talk through them." Sam chuckled. 

"Oh well I don't do it often, only with spirits I trust." Y/n added. 

As she finished her sentence, they had finally made their way to their hotel. It didn't take long before the three of them were inside the room, talking about random stuff. Colby couldn't help but watch her as she laughed and moved around the room. 

"What's so interesting about Nebraska?" Sam joked, starting a conversation. 

"If i'm being honest," Y/n sighed. "Nothing." She laughed. 

"Oh, that's great," Sam laughed back. "I don't want to get into the video already, but tell me, why is Nebraska so significant with orphanages?" He continued, pulling out his camera and beginning to record. 

"Well, do you guys know about the Orphan Train Movement?" She asked, leaning back on the bed she sat on. 

"No, never really heard of it." Colby replied, shaking his head. 

"Well, Nebraska is like the center of all the railways, so in the 1850's all the way until the 1920's, people would send orphans on the train from like the crowded East Coast cities into the midwest, mostly Nebraska," Y/n explained. "So, we used to have a lot of orphanages just like Haven Orphanage." She continued. 

"Really? that's really interesting." Sam commented, facing the camera towards her. 

"Yeah, again I don't really have much knowledge about it but that's what I know," Y/n corrected. "Hopefully the guide will explain it better." 

Y/n decided it's best if she lets them settle in, letting her also collect herself and prepare for their investigation. she said her goodbyes before leaving. She had to admit, she had a crush on Colby for a while. But she didn't want to feed her delusions and say he felt the same, telling herself he was probably being friendly. 

When she had left, Sam turned over to colby. 

"You so have a crush on her." Sam laughed. 

Colby turned red, covering his face, "Shut up." He muttered. 

"Hey, I just never seen you so quiet around a girl," Sam admitted. "Come on, you gonna make a move?" Sam enticed him.

Colby sighed for a second, looking at his best friend, "I-i don't know, she's only being nice, I don't want to embarrass myself and get rejected." 

"Really? Colby Brock getting rejected? Haven't seen that happen yet." Sam teased. 

Colby rolled his eyes, playfully. "Whatever, let’s just focus on this investigation for now." he averted the subject. 

Sam just gave him a look, as if it wasn't over just yet. He agreed to his friend's idea, pulling out his notes and taking more notes. 

Six o'clock came a lot earlier than they hoped, making their way to the orphanage. As they pulled into the building, they noticed y/n already waiting out front for them. Colby felt his heart beat a bit faster seeing her there. He examined her outfit and her demeanor, admiring her. 

They began making their way up towards the front doors, seeing the guide also there. It didn't take long for y/n to turn around and notice them, putting a smile on her face and her heart to melt a bit seeing colby. 

"What's up guys?" Y/n offered them a smile. "I was just talking to Morgan here about the building." She pointed towards the other woman. 

They greeted their guide, offering a warm greeting. They all introduced themselves, joking and laughing a bit. 

"Well, are you guys ready for the tour?" Morgan asked them. 

"Yeah, for sure lead the way." Sam nodded, following her. 

"Well this building was built in 1863, it was originally an orphanage named Haven Orphanage for Moved or Unwanted children," Morgan started, pointing towards the building. "It's said to be haunted, due to cruel conditions like overcrowding and shortage of supplies. The government didn't really want to pay for any orphanages, unfortunately causing it to be absolute hell for the children and staff." She continued, clasping her hands together. 

"Yeah, off the bat I already feel like some negative energy," Y/n motioned with her hands towards the building. "Like I feel a negative spirit lurking." 

"Yeah, so that you're feeling is Ruby," Morgan clarified. "She was one of the staff, she was very cruel to the children and it's rumored she sold her soul to the devil for the place to keep standing, but unfortunately she passed away from unknown causes." She continued. 

Everyone looked around, widened eyes painted on their faces. 

"Wow, okay so more demons." Sam chuckled.

"Well, it's not all bad energy," Morgan stopped him. "There's a lot of children spirits in here, they're rather playful and kind. But they do like to mess with you so don't get too scared from it." She added. 

"Wait, why am I kinda excited," y/n replied, covering her smile. "I never talked to children's spirits before." She admitted. 

"Well, it'll be a new experience for everyone then." Morgan chuckled, "Shall we start the tour then?" She suggested. 

The group agreed, making their way into the building. Immediately everyone looked around the place, noticing the different decor and admiring the ceilings. 

"So, as you can see, the building has a lot of character to it," Morgan pointed out. "But don't be fooled, there are a lot of dark corners of this building." 

Aas they went deeper into the hallway, they looked around seeing the admission office and different classrooms. 

"This was the classrooms, they would attend school here but the staff wasn't very kind," Morgan began. "A lot of the staff would use punishments that were unorthodox, like paddling which was spanking with a wooden paddle." She added. 

Colby looked over to Sam, "Maybe I should be punished." He whispered, causing y/n and Sam to laugh a bit. 

They soon wandered up the stairs, examining the stained glass on their way up. Y/n smiled as her eyes traveled around the beautiful structure, while Colby couldn’t help but watch her move and how beautiful she was. 

When they made their way up, they noticed the many bedrooms with bunk beds. As y/n began following the guide, she heard a loud metallic thump in one of the rooms. She jumped a bit, surprised by the sound. Unexpectedly, she jumped back into Colby's arms, causing her to become embarrassed. 

Colby's hands were wrapped around her for a moment before y/n, releasing her when she cleared her throat and looked down flustered. “Sorry, that just scared the shit out of me.” She muttered, placing a hand on her chest. 

“That's probably Billy,” Morgan mentioned, pointing towards one of the darkened rooms. “He likes to mess with tourists, he’s a prankster but he’s harmless.” She added. 

Y/n couldn't help but notice a small figure move out of her eyeline, causing her to swing her head towards the room. The guys followed her swift movements, examining the dark room. 

"Did you see something?" Colby asked her, looking back at her. 

Y/n tried focusing her eyes into the darkness, but nothing came up, "Could've sworn I saw something..." She whispered. 

As Sam pointed the camera towards the darkness, he zoomed into the room. "Well we definitely have to come back here for something," he commented. 

As they continued making their way further into the building, Colby couldn't keep his eyes off her. She was beautiful at every angle, he wanted to protect her from anything and everything. Y/n noticed his gaze, being a medium and all, and turned to him. Colby quickly averted his gaze off her, flustered yet again and awkwardly kept walking. 

Y/n blushes as well, trying to rationalize. She cleared her throat as she began making her way towards one of the bedrooms. 

"This was one of the girls' rooms," Morgan explained, pointing towards the different bedsheets of muted pinks and purples. "This doesn't have much activity besides a little girl who likes to sing from time to time, she's a rather sweet ghost." 

"Sam, this one should be your favorite," Colby teases, mentioning the Sallie house. 

Sam laughs, facing his friend, "I think I'm okay without another attachment." 

They all exchanged laughs as they averted their attention towards the sudden faint sounds of footsteps, followed by the rocking chair in the corner slowly creaking as it rocked back and forth. 

They went silent, looking at each other and back at the scene. But the chair just ceases its movements. 

"Okay, what the actual fuck." Colby whispered, covering his mouth in shock. 

Y/n felt a cold touch travel down her arm, as if someone swiped her arm. She looked around, trying to find the source. She felt a faint whisper in her ear, a name. 

"That was the little girl, her name is Beth if you would like to talk to her." Morgan suggested.

Y/n's jaw flew down, realizing what the name was. "You're kidding," she gasped. "I literally heard like a whisper or something with that name." She announced, crossing her arms as she felt the cold begin to engulf her. 

Sam and Colby turned to her, eyes widened in surprise. 

"Oh my god, maybe Beth wants to talk or something?" Sam considered, pointing the camera towards her direction. 

Y/n nodding, agreeing. She had experiences like this, but never this strong. She felt like her body was vibrating and buzzing with the constant movements and voices. 

"Are you okay?" Colby asked, furrowing his brows as he noticed her body shake. 

Y/n nodded slightly, closing her eyes as she took a deep breath. "Yeah just there's so much happening right now, I keep hearing different types of voices and seeing figures around the corner of my eye." She mentioned. 

Colby's eyes washed over with concern, having the need to protect her. "Did you want to take a break or anything?" He asked her, worry coated in his voice. 

Y/n smiled at his empathy, "I'll be okay, just my body is buzzing a bit, but thank you." She breathed out, flustered at his concern. 

Before they knew it, they had made their way to the darkest part of the building. The basement was where supposedly a lot of the children died from cruel punishments, creating a lot of angry spirits. 

"Okay, so before we make our way around," Morgan began, turning back to the group of people. "There is a lot of negative energy here, they will try to hurt you. People always leave here with scratches and even have been pushed off the stairs going to the basement." She warned. 

The group felt tense, nervous about what comes next. When they entered the dimly lit room, they could barely navigate through the dark basement as they stayed close to each other. 

Y/n heard something fall, causing her to jump forward and instinctively grab the person's hand. That person being Colby. She blushed as she realized who it was, clearing her throat and mumbling an apology. 

"It's okay," Colby assured, smiling but she couldn't see it. "You can hold my hand if you want, I'm sorta shitting bricks right now too." He chuckled, stretching out his hand to her. 

She felt her heart skip a beat, hesitantly reaching for his hand. As she grabbed onto his hand, she felt her body rush with electricity. Y/n was glad that the room was too dark to see her flustered face. 

"Alright guys," Morgan sighed, stopping under a lightbulb. "This was where most of the children actually died." She mentioned. 

Y/n felt a wave of sadness coarse through her body, her lip beginning to quiver. Colby looked over to her, seeing the glisten of her tears. 

"Hey, you okay?" He asked her, his brows furrowed with worry. 

"Y-Yeah, I just felt this wave of sadness," she sniffled in response. "like I feel them telling me something so horrible happened to them." She added. 

Colby felt sad to see her cry, wanting to wipe her tears away. Instead he gripped onto her hand firmly, reassuring her. 

Morgan nodded at her comment, "It was actually gruesome," she began. "The kids would be punished here, starved, even beaten. A lot of that resulted in death." 

Everyone in the group frowned, so much remorse for the poor children's lives that were lost. 

"But," Morgan cut in. "Like I mentioned before, there is an adult spirit who haunts here, Ruby. It's rumored she was murdered down here or the other theory was she was pushed out of one of the windows." 

They thought for a moment, feeling a cold chill rush through them causing them to shiver for a bit. 

"Did you guys feel that?" Sam asked, pointing the camera towards them, ignoring their grasp on each other. 

The two nodded, their eyes darting throughout the basement. 

"Man, I don't like the vibe I'm getting here." Y/n whispered, trying to inch closer to Colby. 

Colby agreed, lacing his fingers through hers as he pulled her closer to his body. He felt so protective of her, wanting her to be safe. 

"Yeah, we don't want to be down here for too long," Morgan began making her way back to the exit. "People get seriously hurt here." She added, sternly. 

Y/n's eyes widened, looking up at Colby. He looked back once he noticed her glance and smiled as he guided her towards the exit. 

Once they exited the creepy basement, y/n let go as she thought Colby wouldn't want Sam to see their hold, causing Colby to become disappointed. 

Morgan led the group towards the front of the building, Y/n walking alongside with her as Sam and Colby hung behind them. 

"Dude, I saw you guys down there," Sam smirked, grabbing Colby's attention. "You know, holding hands," He teased. 

Colby rolled his eyes as he flustered at his best friend's teasing, "So what?" He murmured. 

"Admit it, you like her, don't you?" Sam asked, wiggling his brows slightly. 

This only caused Colby to get more embarrassed, looking away from his best friend. 

Sam only chuckled, reaching the doors to the building as they parted ways with Morgan. They thanked her, offering her farewells, and advice. 

As soon as Morgan left, the group looked at each other. Y/n tried to avoid her gaze on Colby, not wanting to seem desperate for his attention. 

"Alright, I think we should use the spirit box," Sam began, rummaging through his bag. "And I have some toys that might interest the kids." Sam added as he pulled out various children's toys and the infamous Alice box. 

"Okay, sounds good." Colby agreed, nodding with the plan. 

Y/n bit her lip, trying to figure out something she heard in the building. She figured it was nothing, brushing it off slightly. They began making their way back towards the doors they just exited, seeing the dark hallways stretch down. 

Y/n froze for a moment, her eyes trying to adjust to the darkness. Soon, she started making her way towards the two who had already made it halfway down the hallway as they discussed plans. 

She tried to catch up to them, but stopped when she saw it. She stopped at the intersection of hallways, staring down the much larger hallway. 

Colby looked behind him, seeing y/n stuck in a trance like state. He made his way back to her, nudging her to see what's wrong. 

"Y-You guys don't see it don't you?" She whispered, her eyes glued on the other side of the barren hallway. 

Colby and Sam looked over to where she was staring, unable to locate the problem. 

"No, Y/n we only see the hallway." Colby shook his head, worry creeping into his skin. 

As Sam tried to begin his sentence, Y/n quickly cut him off. 

"Holy fuck, that thing just moved." Y/n whispered, her hands shaking a bit. 

"What? What did you see?" Sam asked, looking around the hallway. 

Y/n turned to the two, her eyes widened slightly. 

"Okay, as I was about to make my way towards you guys," y/n explained. "I stopped because I heard this whisper, almost telling me to come over here kinda. So I look down the hallway and I see this fucking thing, it was like tall and black and clothed with some weird black clothes, it kept staring at me even when you guys came over. Then it grinned and walked away." She elaborated, her voice beginning to shake as she covered her mouth a bit with her shaking hand. 

Sam and Colby look at each other for a moment, worried. 

"Yeah, okay so already a lot of shit is happening." Sam sighed, feeling a pressure build up in his chest. 

Colby nodded, licking his lips as he began to speak, "let's just get this investigation over with so we can leave," he suggested. "Are you okay to keep going?" He asked Y/n, his brows furrowed. 

Y/n nodded her head, exhaling a deep breath out. "Yeah, just that freaked me out but i'm sure it's nothing." She convinced herself. 

With that, the three made their way to one of the bedrooms, trying to contact one of the nicer spirits. 

"Okay guys, so we have the new Alice box," Sam pointed the camera to the machine. "It's like a spirit box, reading through channels and frequencies so the spirits talk through it." He explained. 

Y/n looked around the room a bit, examining the surroundings well. Colby couldn't help but stare at her face, watching as her eyes darted around. Y/n looked over to Colby's glance and Colby smiled a bit, causing her to blush yet again. She's lost track of how many times she caught him doing things that she keeps reading into. Clearly he's being friendly, but really how friendly?

"Okay let's ask some questions for the little girls that stay in this room." Sam began, clasping his hands after he turned on the small device.

"...hello?..." 

A female voice rang throughout the room, the echo bouncing off the walls. Y/n furrowed her brows, pulling out her notebook as she began to scribble words that came up in her mind. 

She stopped at the word, she looked down and thought of it for a moment. She noticed something, a pair of eyes on her notebook. But it wasn't a spirit, just colby snooping. She smiled a bit, turning her notebook over to Colby. 

He looked at her then lined the pieces of paper with the random ink on letters and drawings. As he read the words, suddenly the Alice box answered. 

"...chair..."

Colby's jaw hung open, looking over to Sam and the paper. Y/n's actions mimicking his. 

"Dude," y/n gasped, displaying her notebook to Sam and the camera. "I wrote that not even 2 minutes earlier, Colby saw it too." She explained. 

Sam’s mouth hung open a bit, shocked. "No fucking way." 

But before they could say anything else, the Alice box spoke again. 

"...girl..." 

"I mean, this is the girl's room." Y/n explained. The two guys nodded, still confused what the spirits are trying to say. 

"...man... hallway..." 

Y/n froze, goosebumps running down her body. "Oh my god, it's talking about that thing I saw." She whispered. 

"Do you know the thing that Y/n saw in that hallway?" Colby asked into the open air. 

The Alice box stayed silent for a moment, occasionally spewing random words that didn't make sense. But as they were about to turn it off, it spoke. 

"... can't say..." 

"Can't say? Why can't you say anything?" Y/n asked yet again, scribbling into her notebook. 

"...won't..." "...let us..." 

"He maybe has a hold on them," Sam suggested, rubbing his chin slightly. "It's possible it's a demon." He added. 

"...evil..." 

They looked at each other and didn't say anything for a moment, Y/n turning her notebook over to reveal the word written on the paper. evil. 

Then the rem pod near the door started going off, a chill running down Y/n's back as the room became cold.

"Okay, this is actually so freaky," Sam chuckled a bit, pointing the camera towards the door. "The rem pod went off after Y/n wrote evil AND the Alice box said evil." 

Y/n sat up, ears perking up a bit as she listened carefully to the air. "Okay, I don't know if it's just me, but the room went completely freezing, and I feel something negative in here." She blurted out. 

"Yeah, I feel the cold," Sam agreed. "Could it be that thing you saw earlier?" He inquired. 

Y/n shook her head, "No, that was like paralyzing fear," She noted. "This one.. it's just mad." She whispered out. 

Concern painted on Colby's expression, clearly reading her body language as uncomfortable. 

"Hey, maybe let's end it in this room," Colby proposed. "A lot more places to investigate." 

Sam nodded, reaching for the equipment as he turned it off. Y/n sat up, but quickly recoiled forward. Colby noticed it, confused. 

"You okay?" he asked, helping her stabilize herself. 

Y/n looked around as Colby held onto her arm. "Y-Yeah, just something pushed me," She answered. "like I was standing up, and I felt a shove on my upper back." 

The group quickly exited the room, making their way down to the basement. They were going to explore more of the place, but seeing how y/n kept being targeted clearly for her abilities they weren't comfortable making her go through it. 

The feeling of uneasiness returned, entering the frigid basement. The dim light still remained on, barely illuminating the space around them. 

"Alright guys, we're going to the basement," Sam mentioned into the camera, showing the dark room. "We're going to do the Estes method down here, Colby is going to do it today." he spun the camera towards Colby's direction, zooming into his face. 

"Wow, face of excitement right there." Y/n joked, causing Colby to break his monotone expression to light up with laughter. 

She felt her heart jump, hearing his laughter brightening her spirit up. She could listen to it all day if she could. Colby soon sat on the barren concrete floor, Y/n handing him the blindfold followed with the headphones. His hands brushing up against her, followed by a smirk on his face. 

She cleared her throat, backing away from him. 

"Alright Colby, can you hear us?" Sam asked, testing out the volume. Colby doesn't say anything, listening to the random static coming through the headphones. 

"Okay, whoever dwells in this basement, are you the supposed member of staff that passed away?" Sam questioned, awaiting Colby's answer. 

"Perhaps." Colby replied. 

"So it's a bit sassy." Y/n chuckled a bit followed by Sam's chuckles. 

"Well, is it true you did rituals to keep this place running?" Sam added. 

Colby stayed silent for a moment, trying to listen carefully to the voices ringing through. 

"Force." Colby blurted. "protect," he continued. 

They looked at each other, trying to decipher what was spoken. 

"What did you do to protect this building?" Y/n asked, furrowing her brows. 

"Colby." Colby said. "Crush." 

Sam looked over to y/n and smirked a bit, "I think it's speaking for you." 

Y/n smacked Sam playfully, a blush covering her face. 

"Kissing," Colby furrowed his brow under his mask. "Tree." 

Sam bursted into laughter, nearly dropping to the floor. Y/n covered her face with her hands, embarrassed. Colby, still oblivious to what's happening, is still spewing out words. Sam tapped him, alerting him to pull out of his trance. 

Colby removed his blindfold, followed by the headphones. He noticed Sam's laughter and Y/n's embarrassed face behind her hands. 

"What? What happened?" Colby asked, curious why Sam was practically rolling on the floor. 

Sam calmed down, wiping the tears out of his eyes. “It said kiss and then tree,” Sam coughed a bit. “It was teasing you.” He pointed towards Colby. 

Colby's face became warm, blushing until his face was red, “Yeah real funny, Sam.” Colby muttered with a sigh. 

Y/n cleared her throat, cheeks still flaming hot. "Well, let's just continue what we came here for." Y/n grumbled, her arms folded on her chest. 

Sam wiped his eyes, cooling down from his laughter. "Wow, that was too good."

Sam began making his way towards the stairs, leaving Y/n and Colby behind his trail.

"Sorry about him." Colby let out with a sigh, rubbing his neck. 

Y/n smiled up at him slightly, "I-Its okay, I know he's just teasing." She blushed. 

Colby simply nodded, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. It wasn't too long before they had explored the whole place, investigating where they could. But then the time to sleep in the actual building came, which y/n began overthinking about. She knew she agreed to sleep alone, but she was too scared after her encounter with that thing in the hallway. 

"Alright guys, it's time for us to split up and sleep in separate rooms," Sam urged. "We figured with the whole Y/n seeing the spirit in the hallway, we're going to sleep in rooms next to each other just to ensure safety." Sam explained. 

Y/n fiddled with her fingers slightly, anxiety beginning to heighten. She bit her lip as they began setting up camp in their rooms. She grabbed her sleeping bag, making their way towards one of the girl's rooms. her heart began beating against her chest as she sat on top of her sleeping bag, listening to every crack and noise around her. 

She rubbed her face, trying to distract herself from her thoughts. But then she heard a faint knocking on the window directly behind her. She just stared at the moonlight that illuminated through the glass in front of her. She quickly sat up, quickly walking towards the closed door. As she opened the door, Colby's chest pressed up against hers. She yelped as she got freighted by the unexpected visit. 

Y/n pressed her hand onto her chest, trying to calm herself down. "Holy shit Colby, you scared the fuck out of me!" She lightly slapped his chest. 

Colby chuckled a bit, trying to lighten up the mood, "Sorry, I couldn't sleep, plus I knew this was your first time staying alone in a haunted place so I wanted to keep you some company." He admitted. 

Y/n felt her heart softly flutter, touched by his gesture, "Yeah, I sorta kept hearing things, I was gonna go to you." She confessed. 

Colby smiled, glad she found comfort in his presence, "Mind if I sleep in the same room as you then?" He requested. 

"Not at all," Y/n quickly replied, walking back to her sleeping bag onto the floor. Colby followed, his pillow and sleeping bag in his hands. "I wonder if Sam is shitting himself alone." She chuckled as she hugged her knees close to her chest. 

Colby sat next to her as he laid out his temporary bed, chuckling at the comment, "He'll be fine," He waved off, "After he laughed at us,he can sleep by himself." 

Y/n laughed a bit, looking down towards the floor. Colby couldn't help but stare at her, admiring her features in the moonlight. She noticed his gaze, moving her attention back towards him. 

"W-What?" She asked him, confused. 

"Nothing," Colby shrugged. "You're just really beautiful." He whispered. 

She flustered as she looked away as her cheeks painted with a deep color, "Oh, stop it." She muttered, playing with her fingernails. 

Colby's fingers landed on her jaw, moving her to face back towards him. She looked up into his eyes, seeming to get pulled closer towards him. 

"Well, it's true," He added, but couldn't help but lean towards her lips as his eyes kept glancing to her eyes and back to her lips. "I couldn't stop staring at you all day," he revealed. 

She felt her body heat up, unknowingly pressing closer to him. "Well, maybe I knew," She replied, feeling his hand on top of hers. "Maybe I was staring too." 

With that, Colby's lips landed on her. She gladly accepted as her lips pieced together perfectly. Colby's hand laced with hers, like previously that night. He lightly held her face, his thumb rubbing her cheek.

But soon, Colby pulled away, leaving them panting as they rested each other's forehead on one another. Y/n couldn't help but smile and chuckle a bit, causing Colby to wonder. 

"What?" He wondered. 

"Nothing," She added, rubbing her thumb on his hand. "Just, there were at least three little girls in here giggling." She confessed. 

Colby let out a laugh, pulling away as he looked around the room, "Well, you guys should give us some space." He announced into the room. 

The next morning, the sun began to shine through their window. The rays of light hitting their eyes, causing their eyes to flutter open. Y/n was the first one to notice him, seeing his wide smile on his face. Sam pointed the camera at the two, giggling as he noticed her to wake up. 

Y/n looked over next to her, noticing the boy clung onto her as he laid onto her chest. She threw her pillow towards Sam, causing him to laugh loudly which woke up Colby. Colby rubbed his eyes, adjusting his vision to the bright room. 

"What the-." Colby grumbled, looking up towards y/n's tired face. 

"Dude, how long have you guys been cuddling?" Sam exclaimed, putting away the camera. 

"Shut up sam." Colby muttered, his head landing onto his pillow. y/n sat up, covering her face. 

"Sam, it's too early for this, can you please leave us alone." Y/n groaned.

"Fine, fine I'll let you love birds be." Sam teased, wiggling his brows a bit before he shut the door behind him as he left. 

Y/n looked over to Colby who was laying on his side. She smiled a bit, still exhausted. He returned the smile, still amazed by her beauty. 

"Does this mean you'd go out with me? or do you already know that I was gonna ask you out?" He finally asked. 

Y/n chuckled dryly, "Colby, I’m a medium, not psychic," She rolled her eyes playfully. "But yes, I will go out with you."

[drdemonprince]

Do you have any advice on hooking up when being very COVID concious? I want to venture into casual sex a bit more (I've just gotten to the point in working through trauma stuff that I think I can do it healthily - I'm including no conventional sex BDSM in 'sex' here, bc it does Feel like sex to me), but I live with an immunocompromised person and don't want to put them at risk.

I guess what's holding me back at the moment is knowing I'm gonna be asking a lot from partners on just the COVID front (do a NAT test + be in a room with an air purifier before my mask comes off), before I even get to the compatibility thing (I like myself but I'm a fat hairy transmasc who's repulsed by bottoming and mostly stone, so I know I'm an incredibly niche taste), and feeling like it's so unlikely to work out I shouldn't waste time bothering?

Why give up on yourself and on the conscientiousness of potential partners by never asking? I think you and lots of other COVID conscientious hotties are missing out on the chance to get to know one another if you don't put it out into the world that you exist. There are people out there pining away for a hot, fat trans masc stone top who packs a strap and a portable HEPA air filter, I hear from them all the time.

I would recommend making a post to Lex just laying out your interests and then some of your COVID protocols. COVID-Conscious Stone [Verse/Top] Seeks Bottom for Air Purified Fun is definitely gonna get some bites, if your area is anything like mine! I think it's better for you to lay out your COVID safety protocols in the text of your post -- you don't want to have to waste time heavily vetting a ton of incompatible partners.

You should remember that your caring about COVID risk is an ASSET you are offering to compatible partners, not a burdensome ask! The right people will be thrilled to see that there's still others out there who care about COVID and are doing all that's in their power to make socializing & intimacy risk-mitigated. Even people whom you aren't sexually compatible with will feel immense relief just seeing that your post acknowledges COVID as a serious risk. You're helping to normalize necessary conversations and make the entire space more accessible to disabled people just by being there as yourself, with your boundaries and limits.

The same thing goes for you being stone and not enjoying bottoming. Do you know just how many bottoms are out there who want a cute fat masc to top them??? Thousands of them, dog! You are what you are and what you are is fucking GREAT. And a lot of prospective sexual partners out there in the world are not good for YOU. And so you can filter them out and move on to the next prospect rather than thinking of yourself as a product languishing on the shelf. You have a lot to offer, and you'll find people who get you.

[zara-renata]

Datura Tea | ao3 | masterlist

You're suffering from insomnia due to untreated PTSD (probably, I don't know, I'm not a doctor or a therapist) from your family getting, well, exploded, and the longer this goes on, the sloppier you become in combat and just existing, and a bad idea is born (let's go to the club alone, drink enough to finally get drowsy and then go home and finaaaaally sleep it off). Zayne treats some of your injuries, Mephisto does Sylus's stalker bidding, and guess who appears at the club right before you're about to probably violate the Hunter's Association code of conduct on an idiot who has a hard time taking no for an answer? Spoiler alert: he can't sing but he can dance, even if he chooses to dance to the music he'd rather be hearing than the music actually being played.

Second person POV, gender neutral MC/reader second person POV, a teeny tiny bit of Sylus POV at the end CWs: insomnia, trauma, grievous bodily injury, hospital environment, shots/needles/stitches, self-destructive behavior, MC may have issues regarding self-worth, MC refuses to get proper treatment, poor life choices, stalking (by Sylus), unwelcome boundary pushing by a non-main character, dubiously welcome boundary pushing (by Sylus), (irresponsible) alcohol use, everyone's thirsty for MC and MC is oblivious because this is a self-insert gacha game and no I will not be taking any criticism on this point at this time.

Just as you had hoped before agreeing to Sylus’s deal that allows him to make use of your flat as a safe house if necessary, things have returned to normal. Well, as normal as they can be ever since your world was blown apart. It has been weeks, and you haven’t heard from him at all. At first, in the days following Sylus's little... visit, you sometimes find yourself thinking that you see a larger than normal crow amidst the swaying trees on your way home at twilight. Or you'll catch the reflection of two uncannily similar looking men in the shop window you just passed, but when you turn around, all you see is the blur of a faceless crowd.

You tell yourself that you're imagining things.

But then you stumble into your flat one night, wounded, again, but not so badly that you need to go to Akso Hospital, and stop short. You stand very still, clutching the hilt of one of the blades strapped to your back, and listen. Something feels off. Did you line your various pairs of footwear in a neat little row along the wall of your foyer recently? You can't remember doing so, but you've been doing a lot of things on autopilot recently. You wait, but nothing stirs in the gloom of your place as the automatic light shuts off due to how still you're standing.

Nothing. Just silence, and an aching feeling of absence that you refuse to think about too hard.

Just as you had hoped. Of course. Although you don’t know him well, you learned enough during the few days by his side to know that Sylus’s moods and interest were mercurial at best. You knew from the moment that Kieran and Luke offered you advice from a psychology book about how people who have everything often need constant challenges and the unobtainable dangled in front of them to keep their interest: Sylus would soon become bored with whatever game he thought he was playing with you, and your life would return to its peaceful… new-normal. And that’s good. That’s what you want. You are not equipped to handle a presence like him in your life. You’re a law-abiding, predictable, simple hunter, just trying not to leave the world worse than you found it, one day at a time. You shake your head, and hang your weapons on the wall rack, next to the coat hooks, and unlace your boots, relieve yourself of your blood-soaked pants and ripped shirt, and step into your flat wearing nothing but your underwear. Free, at last. You turn to head to your fridge for a pack of something frozen to place on the bruises that are only just beginning to bloom along the side of your face, only to freeze yourself, again. Your heart kicks wildly in your chest as you take in the looming mass in the middle of your kitchen, before you realize--

On your kitchen island stands a huge black and red pot, filled with a riot of white flowers, their edges ringed with a faint lavender color. You hesitantly reach out and run your finger along the deadly looking little points dotted along the petals' edges. You don't know shit about flowers, but these look threatening, somehow, in their savage beauty.

Maybe this is a prank. As your partner and closest neighbor, Xavier has access to your place. And Tara has your spare key, since Xavier is out of town so often on his little secretive, certainly not having anything to do with Lumiere escapades. Maybe this is their idea of cheering you up?

But you're not convinced. These flowers look like a warning. You quickly try to summon a list of people who might want to make you uncomfortable, or even frighten you, enemies you've made or hell, beaten at the claw machine? But no one comes to mind. Sylus had said that Sherman wasn't acting alone when... well. He wasn't acting alone, so maybe these flowers come from them, trying to tell you that they'll eventually finish the job. But if they knew where you were, and still wanted to take you out, they could have left a ... bomb instead of a pot of frighteningly gorgeous plants to accomplish their goal. You shudder.

There's no card. No message. Just the cryptic message of the flowers themselves. For fuck's sake, you're tired. Something about the flowers makes you paranoid, so you carefully run your hands through the leaves and stems to see if there is some sort of hidden surveillance equipment, but you fail to find anything. Giving up, you lift the heavy pot with a grunt and place it on your indoor balcony, shutting the door. Now if there is some sort of camera or audio recording device, all they'll see is your hazy outline through your glass balcony door. You can't help yourself: you make a rude gesture at the door, just in case there really is a hidden camera in there. You finish your trek to the freezer, slap a bag of something frozen past its due date onto your face, and spend the rest of the night tossing and turning in your bed before another dawn rises.

As the days turn into weeks, and another day has passed where you're wincing as you open your front door, worried that he'll be on the other side, only to find it empty, with none of your clutter undisturbed, you finally decide to put Sylus out of your mind for good. He helped you when you needed it the most, and you repaid his dubious generosity when you patched him up at your place. So you push the thought of him down deep, down with all of the other things you can’t bear to think about these days, and life goes on. You water the mystery flowers from time to time, at the same time you water the rest of your plants, and resign yourself to not figuring out who sent them anytime soon.

You can’t sleep, again.

You’ve been trying it all: running on the treadmill until you’re on the brink of vomiting, the harsh lights of the deserted Hunter’s Association fitness center making you squint. All you’ve gotten for your efforts is a headache threatening to add itself to your list of complaints at midnight, 2 AM, 3 AM, 4 AM, until you’re still awake and your morning alarm is sounding from your hunter’s watch.

Squeezing in extra full body supersets with the kettlebell, sweat pouring down your back, soaking through the hair at your temples and dripping onto the mats. Your muscles are not getting any stronger, and you’re sure as hell getting more fatigued,  but the sleep won’t come as you limp into your bedroom every night.

Camomile tea with honey, warm milk, cold milk, rooibos tea without honey, fennel tea (you gag a little, and decide that you’re absolutely done trusting Moments recommendations when it comes to tea that aids sleep) before slipping under your tangled duvet, only to have to get up to pee an hour later, with no drowsiness in sight.

Every time you try to meditate and take deep, calming breaths, the memories come. And you can’t. You can’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Once, you even ask Zayne if he can prescribe you something to help.

"No."

"No? You haven't even asked what I'm asking for help with!"

"No."

You look down at your boots, wondering how far your pride will allow you to push him. You don't really want to tell him, exposing all of your messy insides and issues for him to clinically judge, to file away under this diagnosis or that and dismiss as he moves on to the next patient, for him to see you at your absolute lowest when you've never even seen him break a sweat. Something about that idea makes you want to cry.

"Ok." You smile brightly, or at least try. It probably comes across as more of a grimace, but you are trying. "I'll get going, sorry to bother you!" you chirp, and then cringe internally. Why did you apologize? He's your doctor, if you can't even handle asking him for help with this, even if he says no, you might as well switch physicians. It's fine. This is fine. You are fine.

You're about to turn the handle of his office door when his even voice stops you from behind. "What you need isn't pharmaceuticals. It's therapy. You need to talk to—"

But you can't. Talk. You can't imagine thinking the thoughts, let alone getting the words out. You can't, not yet.

"It's just sleep, Doctor Zayne. I'll just drink some fennel tea," you lie, give him a little salute, and escape.

So now you’re on the brink of doing something you’d previously rather have had your teeth pulled than experience: going to a crowded club, getting shit-faced, and hoping the dancing and alcohol will knock you out for a solid 24 hours. But Tara has already turned down your invitation, putting her hand on yours and saying with excruciating gentleness that she doesn’t think that’s what you need right now, which you can’t stand—the kindness, the knowing looks, the unspoken questions from everyone in your life who knows what happened, and are watching you like a ticking time—

Bomb.

You shake your head. You can’t.

And Xavier has been out of the office a lot lately, and from the mail piling up on his foyer floor whenever you nosily peek through his mail slot, probably out of town as well. So he’s not an option to invite after Tara turns you down.

You already know that Rafayel is out of the country on an exhibition tour, so you don’t even bother calling him. Talking to him usually does cheer you up, but you don’t need to be cheered up, dammit, you need to sleep.

You don’t even consider Zayne. First, he's your doctor and probably thinks spending time with you outside of the hospital would feel like a punishment for the sins of a past life. Also, imagining him, neon lights of a cheesy nightclub reflected off of his elegant glasses, indignantly pressed on all sides by unwashed, sweaty bodies, dancing—your brain short circuits even trying to imagine it.

There’s no one else you would trust being drunk around who you can ask to go with you. But the idea of getting drunk, alone, in your silent flat, makes you want to gag worse than the fennel tea.

As you slip on a comfortable pair of tights under a stretchy pair of shorts, and a soft, loose top—off the shoulder so that you look like you made some effort (you refuse to wear anything that can’t also double as athletic wear, because who the hell knows when you’ll get an alert on your watch), you tell yourself that you’ll be fine. You’ll drink enough to get tipsy, enough to make you drowsy, you’ll wear yourself out on the dance floor, and then you’ll go home again. And sleep. You don’t need anyone else for this. Of course it would be nice to be able to let off steam with a friend, but these same friends have been walking on eggshells around you for months, so it’s probably better this way. No awkwardness, no judgment, no gentle attempts to convince you that you need—

You’ve just slipped your boots on when you hunter’s watch goes off. A wanderer is within minutes of your flat’s location. You gaze at your weapon rack, which hangs next to your coat rack in your foyer, and hesitate. These days, you grit your teeth at the sound of gunshots at the practice range, loud in your ears even through your noise cancelling headset. Still too loud. Still too much like a bomb. You use your blades as much as you can, only unholstering your pistols when absolutely unavoidable. You grab two swords and your holsters, and sprint out the door.

You manage to avoid unholstering your pistols during the battle. However, blades require close quarter combat, which means you’re getting hurt more often. And the insomnia means that your reflexes are slower than they’ve ever been. So after you successfully defend a group of tourists from the wanderer, while unsuccessfully defending yourself against the death throes of a bladed tail that flays open your back, you find yourself back in Zayne’s office, again.

Lately, you feel like you see the inside of Akso Hospital more than the inside of your own flat.

You try desperately to avoid having to go, when at all possible. You take care of yourself, when the injuries are in places you can reach. Teeth sinking into your ever-dwindling supply of bandage rolls, the pain is sharp and demands your entire focus, so your thoughts are unable to drift elsewhere, to flit to the places you can’t go in your mind yet, not yet, you can’t—

But there are some wounds, like the one you just got, that you can’t reach, contorting yourself in front of the bathroom mirror, your heavy, tired arms unable to finagle some disinfectant and a bandage over the torn skin. So here you are, again. To put it mildly, Zayne is not happy. He delicately, efficiently, dabs disinfectant onto the latest laceration on your back in frigid silence. You can almost taste the disapproval wafting from him.

It stings, badly, but the pain is dull amongst the cacophony of other aches and healing wounds on your exhausted, battered body. You don’t even have the energy to wince with each point of contact between the cotton and your gaping flesh.

“You don’t have to fix me up yourself every time, you know,” you try to break the ice. “I’m sure you have other patients with urgent complaints more in line with your specialty. You only know about this time because Greyson ratted me out.”

“I am your primary care physician, as well a cardiac surgeon. I am responsible for signing your fitness for duty certificates. Greyson knows this, and acted accordingly,” Zayne clips out. His office falls silent again, and you focus on the flowers you gifted him sitting near one of his office windows, as he prepares to slip the needle containing the local anaesthetic under your skin in preparation of the stitches you need. You try, as you always do without success, to figure out why he keeps them in here. When you first saw them, they reminded you of the color of the little seals he had made you when you were children. That you had interpreted as a threat. So you gave them to him on a whim, and was shocked to find them in his office the next time you visited. You wonder if he waters them himself, or if he lets the hospital’s horticulturist do it. He’s probably too busy to keep track of such trivial things. You decide that you should thank the lady you’ve seen watering plants in Akso’s hallways with a fruit basket or something for her extra effort. Out of the corner of your eye, a couple black birds flap their wings as if startled, half hidden in the fluttering leaves of the trees in the courtyard that Zayne’s office overlooks. You’re about to look for what startled them when—

The shot is worse than the disinfectant, but the painful prick is quickly over. A welcome numbness spreads under your skin, and you desperately wish it came in pill form for—well, everything else that’s wrong with you.

All you feel is a distant tug and release, but your muscles are locked tight as you let the delicate petals fill your vision, as you try not to think about anything at all, as you’ve done for months now. You’re grateful for the silence, for Zayne’s steady hands and breath. You’re grateful for his care, even though you hate that you need it. You don’t want to be another burden to him, when he has so many heavy burdens already. In this too, you have failed, as you failed—

You can’t. You can’t—  

Almost as if he has just felt the way your body has stiffened even further under his competent hands, Zayne interrupts your spiral as he, light as a snowflake, finally lays the bandage over your neatly stitched wound and secures the adhesive sides. He sits back with a sigh and just gazes at your bare back in silence.

You can’t bring yourself to move yet. You’re just so tired. But you know you have to. You don’t want to worry him, you know he has other, more important matters to attend. You gingerly lean back and let your shirt, which had been scrunched up under your armpits and around your shoulders while Zayne worked, slide down your back as you heave yourself to your feet.

You don’t want to turn and see whatever non-expression Zayne has on his face—you want to get out of here, from under these too-bright lights and his tangible concern, but you owe him the courtesy of looking him in the eye as you express a gratitude that can never be fully conveyed in words. So you do turn, but find him leaning back on his desk, his hazel eyes fixed on the same flowers you had just been staring at.

You open your mouth to thank him, to say your goodbyes to get the hell out of here, when he cuts you off with a voice softer than you’ve ever heard from him.

“You know that you cannot continue like this,” he murmurs, eyes still on the flowers.

You take in the sharp line of his nose, the severe set of his lips. The bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows draws your eyes down the contour of his throat, and it hurts you a little, what a beautiful man he has turned into. For a moment you are jerked back in time, the profile of a serious little boy with softer cheeks but the same hazel eyes overlaying itself atop the view in front of you. When he turns to look at you again the vision dissipates, and you suppress the pain—the only thing you’re good at these days. You steel yourself for whatever lecture he is about to lay into you, convinced that the gentleness in his voice is just his exhaustion at having to deal with you, again, when the shrill ring of his mobile rips apart the quiet in his office.

His frown deepens, but he doesn’t move to answer his phone. It continues to ring between the two of you.

“Better get that, Doctor Zayne,” you nod toward it, flooded with the relief that you might escape from his cold admonishment unscathed, this time.

His jaw clenches, and the knuckles of his hands are white where they clutch the desk, but after another ring he finally reaches into his white coat pocket and lifts the phone to his ear.

“This is Doctor Zayne,” he answers with his customary calm, despite the disappointment you’re pretty sure he’s feeling at the interruption of his flaying you open in ways that the wanderer failed.

You plaster the biggest smile on your face that you can muster, exploiting his inability to say anything as he listens to the other person on the line, and wiggle your fingers in a small wave. Before he can react, you’ve slipped through his office door, and you’re practically sprinting down the hallway to get the hell out of there before he can come after you.

Zayne pinches the bridge of his nose, glaring at his office door as if it’s the door’s fault for depriving him of the chance to tell you that he will refuse to sign any future medical certificates until you listen to him and get the help you so clearly, desperately need, that he needs you to get so that he can sleep at night without being afraid that his worst nightmares will manifest every time you enter his hospital. As he sighs, and prepares himself to handle the next emergency, he does not notice the fluttering birds outside his window, nor the jewel-eyed crow that disturbed them, taking flight from the trees in which they were perched.

It’s not too late. You’re exhausted, and hurt, but you’ve been patched up, and the idea of your empty, ineffectual bed fills you with anxiety. Your mission is still a go. So you stop briefly at home to dump your weapons, only retaining a small knife strapped under a black armband along your forearm, throw on a different loose, soft shirt since your other one was shredded and not in a way that looks cute for the club, and head out again. You know a place you’ve been to before with Tara and some other colleagues on an 'optional' but heavily implied as mandatory ‘team-building’ night that ended with a lot of vomit, an inter-office breakup, and a lot of stern glares from your captain the following week. You are deeply hoping that this place can give you what you need tonight.

You look up and cringe at the glaring neon sign: THE BOOM BOOM ROOM. Ok, so this place isn’t exactly classy. But you’re not looking for classy. You’re looking for affordable booze, overwhelming beats, and a late enough closing time not to get kicked out before you exhaust yourself to the extent required by this mission of yours. You’re relieved that the line moves swiftly, and the bouncer waves you in without a second look. Apparently you don’t look as horrifying as you feel, and the knife is discretely hidden under the band on your arm. And suddenly you’re inside.

You’re met with a wall of sound and smells, the bass vibrating in your chest, the floor sticky with what you hope is only spilled beer, and the crowd is surging. You close your eyes once and just soak it in for a moment, letting the mindless life that the place is bursting with wash over you. Then you slip through writhing bodies to reach the bar and order your first drink. You don’t actually want to get shit-faced, since you’re alone. But you do want to have enough to feel the pleasant numbness of alcohol burning its way through your veins, to get drowsy. You order a shot to start and a high-percentage beer to clutch while you dance so you don’t have to wait at the bar again.

It works, for awhile. You let the music fill you, you let the warmth of the shot spread through you limbs. The presence of other, anonymous people, who know nothing about you nor what you’ve been through, relieves some of the loneliness that you refuse to admit has been plaguing you ever since your grandmother and Caleb … Ever since you lost them.

And then you feel someone sidle a little closer to you than comfortable, and you open your eyes to find some guy looking intently at you with a hopeful smile on his face. He leans even closer to you to be heard over the beat as he shouts “Hey! Wanna dance?” into your ear, making you wince.

You shake your head, closing your eyes again, dismissing him. But he doesn’t seem to get the hint, because you feel a hand at your elbow, and hear his voice again: “Why not? You’re not with anyone, right?”

You open your eyes again, and gently, but firmly remove his hand from your elbow with your other hand. “Nah man, I’m just here to relax. I bet someone else would be happy to dance with you though.” You shoot him a tired thumbs up and try to shift away, but he somehow manages to keep pace in front of you, and he’s opening his mouth to say something else, and you’re repeating to yourself I’m a Hunter’s Association role model even when I’m off the clock, I will NOT remove his jaw from his skull, I will NOT remove his jaw from his skull… When suddenly you feel heat envelop your back and someone’s huge hands are gripping your hips—instinct kicks in, you’re convinced that this asshole isn’t alone and his buddy has managed to flank you, and the knife is out of your armband and at a big, warm throat before you realize you’ve spun in his grip, and a pair of bright red, amused eyes are looking down into your face.

“Come now, is that any way to greet your boyfriend, kitten?” Sylus smiles indulgently down at you, hands still on your hips.

“The fuck, Sylus?” you breathe, unable to move, your brain scrambled from trying to reconcile the club’s beat, the aching absence that you’ve been trying so hard to ignore, and the man finally filling it again, right in front of you for the first time since he left your flat’s foyer in a mess of blood and feathers.

Sylus lifts a hand from your hip and runs one long finger over the blunt edge of the knife, gently lowering it from where you are still holding it in shock against his throat. One droplet of blood, flashing like a jewel under the club’s lights, beads from where you pressed a little too hard, and begins to slip down the path of his carotid artery. You barely restrain yourself from launching yourself at his neck and running your tongue along his skin to counter the droplet’s descent—aaand at this highly intrusive thought, you want to punch yourself in the face, and tell yourself firmly that it’s the alcohol. You haven’t had alcohol in months. Your tolerance is basically non-existent at this point, you cannot be blamed for whatever the hell that urge just was.

“I see your professional greeting has not improved any since our last encounter, sweetheart,” he laughs, sounding genuinely pleased despite his complaint, thankfully oblivious to the insane thoughts inflicting themselves on your brain. His gaze flicks from you to the aggressive guy still gaping at the two of you. “I suggest you listen to what my partner has clearly communicated to you, if you would like to leave this... establishment, with all of the limbs with which you entered it,” he sniffs, clearly unimpressed with both the venue and the limbs in question. The guy’s eyes widen a little more, which you didn’t think possible, before he just nods his head so fast it looks like it will detach itself from his spine and pushes away from you through the crowd.

“I think you frightened him,” Sylus tsks, shaking his head. “Another poor service review for the Association’s feedback form, kitten. I’m worried about your performance review this year.”

“Perhaps I should bring them your head to compensate for my poor customer service. That would guarantee a raise instead of an admonishment,” you snap, still feeling violent from your inexplicable impulse to slobber all over this smug asshole’s throat.

Sylus’s eyes, impossibly, light up even more in response to your threat. “Oh, I would love to see you try to take my head,” he almost growls, smiling so wide you can see his crooked canines.

It’s the alcohol. It’s the alcohol. There is absolutely no innuendo to be found in what he has just said. You lift your hand to slap that thought right out of your head, but Sylus catches it in one of his own and tightens his other grip on your hip.

“You’ve already done quite enough damage to one of my favorite acquisitions tonight,” he says, running his thumb gently from your wrist to your palm. For a brief moment, all you can do is stare up into his face, ensnared by the softness in his usually sharp eyes, the slight crease between his eyebrows, the hair that you had told yourself for weeks could not possibly be as soft, as pretty, with the sheen and color of a pearl, as you remember it being.

Ok, someone must have spiked your drink. This is not happening. You cannot handle whatever game he is trying to play right now. “What are you even doing here?” you ask, in a desperate attempt to divert this conversation’s track before a trainwreck happens that leaves you in more pieces than you’re currently in. "And boyfriend? You're my boyfriend now?"

"Well, this is sudden, but how could I say no to such an elegantly worded proposition?" he gasps, eyes widening in mock surprise.

"Sylus," you warn.

"Yes, my better half?"

"Stop messing with me. Why did you tell that idiot that you're my boyfriend?" You need to know. You don't know why, but you need his answer almost as much as you need sleep right now.

"Unfortunately we live in a patriarchy where having a big, bad boyfriend apparently garners more respect than a clear 'no'," he shrugs. "I considered removing his hand from the rest of him and choking him with it, but thought that might make you mad." You roll your eyes, and he narrows his own. "I was trying to help you, but it appears my aid was unnecessary. I'm almost positive I saw him soil himself when you stabbed me." He smiles in a way that almost looks proud.

"I did not stab you," you insist, even though you can still see the thin line of blood disappearing under the color of his black shirt. You decide not to point it out. He'll discover it when he looks in a mirror later. Considering how self-satisfied he is, probably an activity he spends a lot of time doing. "Why are you here, again?" you repeat, shaking your head.

“A little birdie told me that a certain feral kitten had gotten injured again, and I am finally in a position to do something about it after business kept me away far longer than I had planned,” he answers. Still holding your hip and hand, he gently pulls you a little closer and begins to slowly sway with you, completely ignoring the fast paced, thumping beat of the current track the DJ is spinning.

“Mephisto?” Once again, you’re on the back foot. You are a highly skilled hunter, trained to have sharp senses and to be able to notice when you’re being surveilled.

He leans down, rounding his broad shoulders so he’s close enough to your ear for you to hear him hum his affirmation, leisurely sliding his hand from your hip to span the width of the small of your back to better guide you out of the path of other dancers, his large palm making you feel … safe.

“I haven’t seen him. At all,” you admit, suddenly feeling so tired and out of your depth. So terribly lacking, even at this, a most basic skill of your job.

“No surprise, considering how little you’ve been sleeping,” he says, and then grunts softly as you’re pushed closer into him by someone behind you making their way through the crowd. He’s so warm, so solid, and from this distance, he’s all you can see. Again, just like during the auction’s dance.  How are you even here again? You resist the urge to rest your head against his chest like you did that night, as he forestalled the growing panic, as he showed you more kindness than you’ve been shown, or shown yourself, in months. In the months since… you can’t. You can’t, you can’t you can’t—

“You were a little distracted at your doctor’s office, too,” Sylus’s voice cuts through the thunder in your head, and it takes a beat for you to realize what he’s saying.

“You had Mephisto spy on my doctor’s visit?” you almost bellow, or rather, actually bellow, as the people around you shift and give you sideways glances. You try to jerk out of his hold, but only succeed in dragging the two of you a little to the side on the dance floor.

“I instructed him to confirm that you were actually getting proper treatment this time,” Sylus says, unruffled by your continued squirming to escape his arms. “Cease, you’re going to pull your stitches.”

“The stitches you only know about because you’re a creepy stalker!”

“Creepy?” he laughs. “What a strange way of saying handsome, protective, and resourceful.”

“Now I’m worried about your hearing,” you seethe. “That appointment was private!”

“Not private enough for our good doctor’s tastes, I’d wager."

“What does that mean?”

He levels you look with a look that you cannot begin to decipher. After a moment, he shakes his head, the earrings you just notice that he’s wearing flashing under the spinning lights. Is this asshole actually wearing ruby earrings to bring out his eyes? “You cannot possibly be this naïve,” he scoffs, but without conviction. Like he’s talking to himself.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but you’re not allowed to spy on me during private moments like that,” you insist, giving up trying to get away from him since he has the reach and agility of an octopus, apparently.

“Excellent, then I’m allowed to spy on you during other moments. I’m glad we’ve cleared that up,” he declares solemnly. “Please pay Mephisto no mind if you happen to notice him in the future, and for heaven’s sake, do not feed him. He is not a pet—he is a subordinate and should be treated as such.”

You make the fastest decision of your life in compiling a list of possible crow snacks as Sylus resumes gently swaying your bodies, and it’s after pistachios as the 7th item on your Mephisto treat list that you realize he has danced the two of you to the edge of the dance floor, and that you have failed to object to him stalking you through his cantankerous mechanical crow.

“Silence is not consent, Sylus!” you try, only to be met with a pitying moue twisting his wide mouth.

“A deal’s a deal, sweetheart. Come, it’s getting late, and I know you are very tired. Let me take you home,” he commands. "You can show me how well you've been taking care of my little gift in my absence."

"Gift?" You're so lost. You stop, not taking another step until he starts making sense.

"The flowers I had Luke and Kieran deliver to your place."

"Flowers..." You wrack your foggy brain, startled at the scowl that is scrunching Sylus's beautiful face.

"Oh, you receive so many bouquets on a regular basis that they just blur together?" He takes a step forward, closing the distance between you again, but his hand slips away from yours until just your pinkies are linked. "I promise to redouble my efforts to make mine stand out from the crowd, then." Inexplicably, he lifts your linked pinkies to his lips for a kiss-the word tender drifts through your exhausted mind. His lips are unbearably soft.

You snort. "I never receive bouquets..." and then it hits you. The doom flowers.

"You sent me the pot of death threats?"

"Death threats?" he blinks, and it's the first time you think you've ever seen him at a loss for words. But he recovers quickly. "You mean the subtle and elegant form of self-defense to comfort and protect you in my absence?"

"Wut."

"I sent you a very generous supply of datura flowers. They're not only visually appealing, but also highly poisonous. You can use them to poison any unwanted guests you happen to find in your home if your more conventional weapons aren't practical for the occasion," he explains, eyes lighting up again.

"Sylus, you sent me a pot of deadly plants with no note or message. I thought someone was trying to convey a message, message. Like, a warning to watch my back."

His face does something complicated then: flickering from surprise to something like pride, but then he just stares at you, sanguine eyes drifting along your face and down to where his hand is linked with yours for a long moment. "It seems I underestimated your cynicism about other people," he says finally. "And while I always enjoy the proof of our kindred spirits, I would rather you didn't have to live a life where you have to be suspicious of something so banal as a gift of flowers." You are blindsided by the gentle sincerity in his words, and you're trying to hold back the tears that are burning your eyes out of nowhere, when he looks at your face again, brightening. "Now that I'm here, let me taking care of being the paranoid one." His gaze sharpens on your tear-filled eyes, and he cocks his head. Runs his middle finger from the corner of your mouth to just under your left eye, gathering the moisture there that is threatening to overflow. "Sweetheart, tears of gratitude are unnecessary. If you're really thankful, then let me take you home, and just try to refrain from offering me any datura tea when we get there, hmm?" He lifts his finger to his lips and flicks his tongue out to lick, and you are convinced you are hallucinating when his nostrils flair, as if he's savoring whatever he tastes in your tears.

As is becoming routine with Sylus, you feel like you're in a fever dream, watching him from a great distance: he's ahead of you somewhere, already at his next destination, pulling you along in his slipstream like a bird in flight, when you're not even sure you know how to fly. The only thing you are able to process at the moment is that if you don't say anything, you'll be right back where you started: staring at the streetlights spilling across your ceiling, exhausted in an empty bed, with no sleep in sight.

“No,” you blurt out. “I don’t want to go home. Please. You’re welcome to go, but I came here on a mission, and I am going to fucking complete it even if it kills me.”

He considers you for a moment, before asking, “And what mission is that?”

You look away, unwilling to meet his eyes now. You don’t want to admit that you’re so fucking tired you can hardly see straight, shoot straight, think straight, but every time you close your eyes, the memories come and you can’t you can’t you can’t and you haven’t slept properly in months.

“I see,” is all he says, and he pulls you along, your hand firmly wrapped in his, and you’re too tired to ask what, exactly, he sees. You let him lead you into the cool night, the bright night lights of Linkon City drowning out the stars above. He tosses you a helmet, and unlike the first time he put you on his motorcycle, he lifts you in his arms to plop you on the seat behind his.

“I’ll have Luke and Kieran pick up your bike and have it back to you before you need it tomorrow,” he says before you can even think to ask about it. “Hold on tight, and don’t go falling asleep on me. I won’t scrape you off the pavement if you fall off my ride.”

And just as he knew you would, you do the exact opposite of what he ordered, because you’re his contrary, ever wilful, feral kitten who refuses to do as its told. You wrap your arms around his solid waist, rest your helmeted head against his broad back, and fall promptly asleep. He relishes the feel of your arms still wrapped tightly around him, but the scarlet-ink tendrils of his evol keep you secured against his back in case your hold loosens as you sink deeper into sleep.

He snorts when you begin to snore through the helmet's comms.

He sighs, feeling content for the first time in weeks. It has taken much longer than he anticipated to clean up all the of messes that Sherman and his backers made while he was gone. Mephisto has been reporting to him daily regarding how you were doing, and Kieran and Luke have been on standby in case you needed them. But even sleep-deprived and determined to take care of your own problems by yourself to the point of self-destruction, you have handled what has come your way with competence, so their help has never been absolutely necessary. But Sylus can see just how close to the breaking point you are. Now that things have finally settled in the N109 zone, he intends to begin a new game, and it starts with him flourishing the trump card of his current hand: your invitation to let him use your place as a safe house whenever the ‘need’ arises.

He revs the engine, just for fun, smiles to himself, and rides through the rest of the night, until the sun comes up.

Later, when you wake up alone in your own bed, stretching lazily in the soft sunlight filtering through your gauzy curtains, you realize it’s the best night’s sleep you can ever remember having. You turn your head and find a black feather on the pillow next to you. You flick it gently, and try not to think too deeply about anything at all.

[whoops-all-jennas]

Past Lives pt.3

Wednesday x witch!reader

"I've got this strangest feeling."

"This isn't our first time around."

Summary: Wednesday drags you into the woods during the harvest festival.

a/n: I'm starting to get tired of writing in 3rd person so I'm going to be experimenting with perspectives this part. If I enjoy it I might go back and change the previous two parts to first person.

"Are you sure you can trust that normie?"

Enid and I are watching as Tyler is arguing with his father. Y/n left after the Tyler's appearance.

A part of me wished she stayed, she doesn't pretend to get along with me.

"I trust I can handle myself." I say, thoughts of you lingering in my mind.

The festival illuminates the dark night, the lights of the attractions drawing shadows of the people walking by. The colors stabbing needles in my eyes.

I usually enjoy that sensation.

"Well, good luck and safe travels." Enid reaches out for an embrace. I take a step back, evading her touch.

"Still not a hugger, got it." Enid lowers her arms before heading towards the attractions.

I notice Weems from afar, watching my every move. I am going to need a way to distract her.

After a moment of exploring I find an attraction where you throw darts at balloons attached to a wall, the prize lacks colors. Not that I want the prize anyways, I just need it to be believable.

I throw the first couple darts, balloons popping in quick succession. Xavier approaches, resting his elbows on the counter.

"Jeez, if you get any better at this you'll be taking home a whole pack." He says while I throw another dart, followed by the pop of another balloon.

I am unsure of how to feel about Xavier so far. All I know outside of me accidentally rescuing him years ago is that he's friends with Y/n.

"Panda's don't travel in packs, they prefer solitude."

I say, the sound of a balloon popping annunciating the period.

"Alright, subtle hint taken." His eyes shift from me to the board.

I look at him for a moment. "You should know I'm waiting for someone." I say, not realizing the possible implication of the statement.

"Oh yeah? Who's the lucky guy? or girl." He has a hint of hope on his face, but not for himself.

"What does it matter to you?" I say, Tyler approaching from behind. The hope on Xavier's face was replaced with annoyance.

"Didn't mean to interrupt."

"You're not." Xavier says, walking between Tyler and I, the energy radiating off him.

With him and Y/n being friends and having similar reactions to Tyler, it makes me wonder if he's done something to them.

I look to Tyler for a moment, possibilities forming in my head. It doesn't matter, I'm just using him anyways.

"This is gonna be trickier than I thought." Tyler's voice pulls me out of my head.

"Dad hit me with a curfew. We need to go if I'm gonna make it back in time."

"I've got some dead weight I need to lose first." I look over Tyler's shoulder to Weems who is eating a burger.

"Meet me behind the parking lot when the fireworks start." I say, Tyler nodding before walking off.

The man running the attraction approaches with a panda stuffed animal. "You see that sad, lonely woman over there?" I take out twenty dollars, holding it between my index and middle fingers.

"She needs this pathetic validation more than I do. Would you mind distracting her?"

The man silently agrees, bringing the stuffed animal to Weems. When she looks away from me I sneak off towards the parking lot.

I'm hanging out with Enid when Tyler and Wednesday pass by.

"So she's actually leaving?" I say, disappointment in my voice. I'm gonna miss her existing with me in the dorm room.

"I mean, that's what the plan is." Enid takes a sip from her drink, eyeing me suspiciously.

"Why?" Enid's eyes glisten, wanting to know everything about everyone.

I shrug my shoulders. "I don't know."

"You sure you don't know?" Enid wiggles her eyebrows at you.

I raise an eyebrow at her. "What does that even mean?"

"I just think you might, y'know, like like her. No one misses a new roommate after one day." Enid says, fidgeting with her straw.

I feel a wave a heat rush over my face. "No! what are you talking about."

"OMG you so totally do!" If being a werewolf came with a tail, Enid's tail would be wagging so fast she would be flying.

"No! I just think." I pause for a second, flustered by the accusations.

I haven't thought about it yet, do I like her? I mean she is pretty, but I don't know her.

"Just think what?"

"I don't know, she's just pretty that's all!"

Enid's face beams. "Ah! that's so cute!"

Enid was going to continue speaking until we get distracted by Wednesday and Tyler running past us.

"Wednesday?" I say, looking back to Enid who is gesturing me to go.

I started to run after her, hearing Enid shout from behind. "Go get her girl!" She might as well have painted my face red.

I finally catch up. "Wednesday!" This causes her to turn to me, bumping into Rowan as she enters another vision.

Tyler and I are quick to grab her as she falls. "What just happened?!" Tyler asks before she comes back to reality.

Wednesday stands, readjusting her balance before staring at Rowan.

"Wednesday we need to go." Tyler says urgently. Wednesday's eyes shift to me before she starts chasing after Rowan, grabbing me by the wrist.

"What's happening Wednesday?" I say, trying to keep up with Wednesday's speed as she drags me.

"Rowan come back!" Wednesday let's go of my wrist after my feet catch up.

After a few seconds of running, Wednesday turns to look at me.

"Do you have your wand?"

"Yeah, I always do."

Air quickly fills and leaves my chest, my legs burning at the sudden activity.

Soon we both catch up to Rowan in the woods. My eyes take a minute to adjust to the sudden darkness.

Rowan brings his inhaler to his face, taking a deep breath in.

"Rowan, wait!" Wednesday's steps lessen as we get closer

Rowan groans, annoyed. "What do you want? Why are you following me."

I look at Wednesday, wanting to know what's happening. I know she had a vision, but what did she see?

"I don't have time to explain, but you're in danger." Wednesday responds with a serious tone. This is the first time I've heard her this serious, she usually has a sarcastic tone to her voice.

Rowan chuckles for a moment. "I think you've got it backwards." He looks between us, deciding what to do.

I start to reach for my wand, his eyes following my hand.

Rowan reaches a hand towards me. I start flying through the air, it feels like an invisible hand is twisting my body controlling how I'm landing.

"Y/n!" Wednesday shouts before I hit my head on landing. My hair fading to white as I lose consciousness.

I wake up in the nurses office, quickly sitting up and instantly regretting it. My snow white hair in my face while the world spins around me.

The office is filled with daylight, what time is it?

I realize my hair is white before moving it out of my face.

"Shit." I mutter to myself, looking around to see if anyone's around before trying to stand.

When I stand, I almost fall as I stabilize my feet. I see my wand on the night stand.

I grab my wand, gripping it tightly as to not drop it.

As I approach the bathroom, I stumble onto the wall before practically falling through the doorway.

I meet my own gaze in the reflection of the mirror, my hair white and messy.

I rest one hand on the sink, putting all my weight on it, as I bring my wand to the top of my head.

The color y/h/c starts to fade back into my hair, starting from the roots to tip.

Now that looks more like me, well besides how out of it I look.

I go to leave the bathroom, falling to the ground past the doorway.

"Y/n!" There are quick steps as the nurse approaches me trying to stand.

"What are you doing out of bed?" She grabs my forearm before guiding me back to the bed.

"Wait here a moment, I'll bring your medicine." The nurse walks to a closet as I stay sitting up.

My head was throbbing, the world spinning around me.

She leaves the closet after a moment with a small bottle that is rapidly bubbling, some sort of steam emanating from it.

"Drink every last drop and you should be able to attend some of your classes today." Our nurse was the only other witch in the school, most magic parents aren't too keen on sending their child to a town that is known for burning witches in the past.

I start to drink the potion, the liquid bubbling down my throat, causing me to gag.

"It doesn't taste too good." I say, as I finish drinking the potion. The nurse grabs the bottle from my hand.

"Well it's not grape-flavored, I'll tell you that." The nurse gives me a smile before going to return the bottle.

The world soon stabilizes around me, my head no longer throbbing.

I stand, finding it ten times easier.

"Fascinating isn't it?" I hear the nurse from the other room. "I've always loved healing magic."

I look towards her. "I would say it's just like magic, but it literally is."

The nurse smiles at me. "If you're feeling better you may head to class."

I walk into my carnivorous plants class, everyone already in seats as class was already going on.

"Ah Y/n! glad to see you're okay." Ms. Thornhill interrupts herself to bring her attention to me. "Go ahead and take any seat like usual."

I was going to find my original seat next to Xavier until I see Wednesday sitting alone.

I take a moment to decide before taking the seat next to her, meeting Xavier's eyes as he gives me a knowing glance causing me to roll my eyes.

My glance moves to Wednesday as I find her looking at me, more specifically my hair.

"Hey Wednesday." Her gaze moves from my hair to my eyes.

Her look has concern in it, as if she's asking 'Are you okay,' through her eyes. Too scared of the intimacy of actually asking.

Ms. Thornhill was helping a student independently giving us a moment to talk.

"Why did your hair turn white last night, after you lost consciousness."

I look at Wednesday, thinking about what I should share.

"That white is my natural hair color, I was just raised to hide it so I guess I still do it out of habit."

Wednesday stares off to the side for a moment.

"What does it mean?"

After a moment of silence I decide to tell her, I open my mouth to explain until I'm interrupted by Ms. Thornhill addressing the class.

"Wednesday." Both of our heads perk up.

"We are thrilled to have join us on our journey into the world of carnivorous plants." Thornhill walks in front of her desk, next to a plant in a glass case.

"Now, who can tell us the name of this beauty?"

Thornhill addresses the flower in the case with her hand. Bianca is the first to raise her hand.

I'm also not the biggest fan of Bianca, she supposedly used her Siren Song on my friend Xavier to manipulate him. I don't really know too many details about it, but I know she hurt my friend and that's enough for me.

"Dendrophylax lindenii." Wednesday answers without raising her hand, trying to get ahead of Bianca.

Bianca slowly lowers her hand, with a little bit of attitude. "Otherwise known as the Ghost Orchid."

"First discovered on the Isle of Wight in 1854." Wednesday says, not even a moment after Bianca is done speaking.

Thornhill looks surprised at Wednesday's knowledge. "Very good, Wednesday!"

Thornhill turns her gaze to Bianca. "You may have competition for first chair, Bianca."

I find myself smirking at the annoyance building up on Bianca's face, shifting my weight onto my elbows on the table to get a better view.

"Wednesday, perhaps you can identify the Ghost Orchid's greatest qualities."

Bianca shifts her expression from annoyance to confidence. Moving her gaze to Wednesday with that emotion written on her face.

"Resilience and adaptability." Wednesday remains unmoved, her posture as perfect as ever. "It's able to thrive in even the most hostile environments."

"But it's mere presence can change the ecosystem, causing the established plants to reject it." Bianca butts in, trying to one up Wednesday.

"Usually because the native species is allowed to thrive unchecked. Nothing a weedwacker couldn't fix." Wednesday states, definitively.

"You can most certainly try."

I can feel the tension between the two, meeting Xavier's eyes for a moment.

"Are we still talking about flowers?" Xavier adds, causing the class to release a light laugh. Alleviating a bit of the tension.

"Thank you ladies, for those, illuminating insights." Ms. Thornhill brings the attention back to her.

"Clearly the plants aren't the only carnivores in class today."

I look between Wednesday and Bianca, sensing the rivalry building between the two.

I'm with Enid helping with the boat for the Poe Cup. It's a beautiful fall day, the air slightly chilly, the leaves in the trees different shades of red, yellow, and orange.

Wednesday starts approaching from the school, heading to our team's boat. Specifically to Enid. "I have to get back to the woods, but Weems has been watching me like a vulture circling a carcass."

"And you want me to cover so you can go back to the crime scene that didn't happen?" Enid asks, teasingly.

"Crime scene?" I break my focus from painting the boat. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh you don't know? Wednesday has been saying how Rowan was killed by a monster while he now walks around the school. Y'know, very much alive."

Wednesday scowls Enid with her eyes.

"What if she is telling the truth?" Something glistens in Wednesday's eyes when she looks at me. "We go to a school with vampires and werewolves, but this isn't possible? Plus, I don't think Wednesday is the type of person to lie for attention."

Enid shrugs while she continues painting. "Why don't you ask Y/n to be the distraction?"

Wednesday looks back to Enid. "That's because she will be coming with me to investigate."

I turn my head to Wednesday with a slightly confused expression. Am I? I wasn't aware of this.

Wednesday sees my confusion, I can see her asking through her eyes as I take a deep breath.

I can't say no to her.

Enid looks back to Wednesday, taking her eyes off the boat. "Okay then, why don't you ask Thing? Oh wait you can't because he's mad at you."

"Why's he mad? he's the one who screwed up."

Enid goes back to focusing on painting while shrugging. "All I know is that we spent an hour giving each other manis, and he really opened up. He feels you doesn't respect him as a person."

"Technically he's only a hand."

"Wednesday, he's your family! And he would do anything for you. Go apologize and I'll reconsider helping you."

Wednesday looks around for a moment before meeting my eyes, gazing into them for a moment before walking away.

Part 4.

Past Lives Masterlist

a/n: happy holidays :))

[musings-of-a-rose]

A New Life - Part 3 (Finale)

Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x ofc Cornelia

Word Count: 8700+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Summary: After her husband's quick death, Cornelia finds herself back in her childhood home. But when her father passes, her cruel brother Cato becomes Lord of the city. She feels trapped, hopeless, destined for nothing as her brother tortures her day in and out. Until one day, a certain renowned General comes to claim her city in the name of Rome. When her brother hastily offers her up in surrender to the stoic General, Cornelia happily complies. Anything to get away from her brother. But will the General accept her? What fate lies in store for her in the hands of General who has never lost a battle? And will she be able to survive Rome itself?

Notes: I asked and you voted! One final part instead of 2! Shoutout to @mermaidxatxheart for tolerating my existence in general for this fic.

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

General Marcus Acacius Masterlist

A New Life Masterlist

The horses neigh and stomp at the ground, anxious to enter the city and start their path through its streets to the capital building where the Emperors were waiting for us.

Not us. Him.

The tent opens and Marcus strides out of it, his presence commanding. He’s dressed in a white and gold armor, a ridiculous color for actual battle but damn if it doesn’t leave me breathless. His hair sits in perfect salt and pepper curls, a new scar on his face a red line across his cheek, enhancing his attractiveness. Now I understand why Lucilla dressed me in a white and gold tunic - to match him. To show a team. To show my support of him. 

Marcus is lost in thought as he makes his way to the chariot where he is to ride and lead the procession, I'm somewhere behind him, not so far back that I’ll have to run to keep up with him at the end, but not so close that I take any attention from him. Not that Marcus would care in the slightest, but these Emperors are so damn picky. He doesn’t notice me at first, completely focused on whatever he’s thinking about until he nearly knocks into me. He steps back, an apology forming on his lips that dies there as he takes me in, his eyes roaming up and down my body. 

“You…you’re stunning.”

I can feel my cheeks warm and I glance away from him and back. “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

Marcus scoffs. “This old thing? I feel ridiculous in it.”

I step up next to him and speak in his ear. “Well then I’ll have to help you out of it.”

A growl rumbles in his throat. “Let’s skip the celebration. Think they’ll notice?”

I smile. “They might.”

“Damn.” He tips my chin up and presses a soft kiss to my lips that starts to heat up when his chariot driver clears his throat. Marcus breaks the kiss, his eyes lingering on my face a moment longer. 

“Sir. Sir, it’s time.”

His eyes are glued to mine and I can see all the anxiety and worry building there, not just for himself but for me as well. “See you up on the hill.”

“I’m right behind you.”

Damn this city is loud. I thought we had a lot of people but they were nothing compared to this. Packed in tight and yelling their approval, I can barely hear myself think. Despite my rapid heartbeat that increases the closer we make it to the center of the city, I can hear them chant his name. Acacius! Acacius! Acacius! They love him. And I find my first commonality with the people here in the great city of Rome.

We turn down a street and head through these massive pillars and down another path, at the end of which stands a massive white staircase. At the top I see 2 men clad in white robes - they must be the Emperors Geta and Caracalla. My stomach turns immediately and I have a sense of foreboding, but that may just be my nerves. I’ve never met rulers of a nation this size before. Marcus hops off his chariot and walks back to mine, offering me his hand as I disembark.

“Are you ok?” He asks as I step down.

I shrug. “As good as I can be.” 

He escorts me up the stairs, pausing several from the top to drop my arm, a move we had discussed earlier, as the Emperors would want to address him directly. I watch him ascend those last steps alone, praying that everything goes alright.

Also to check out his thighs because damn.

Some words are exchanged between them that are lost to me, the crowd behind me is too loud for me to make it out. Then they place a crown of golden laurels on his head, which sends my mind whirling. He looks like one of the Gods themselves. He addresses the crowd with a raised hand as they all cheer and chant his name. Then he extends his hand down to me, his eyes immediately finding mine and trying to offer some comfort. I gather up my tunic and ascend the last few steps, happily taking Marcus’s hand. He gives it a little squeeze and some of the nerves leave my body. 

“Emperor Caracalla, Emperor Geta. May I present to you my wife, Cornelia.”

Pale makeup cakes both of their faces, coal darkening the skin around their eyes making them look less imposing and more…psychotic? Geta addresses me first, his eyebrows raised as his eyes rake over me and flick between Marcus and myself.

“General Acacius. You found yourself a wife. It’s about time.” He takes a step closer to me. “We all thought he would die without having heirs.”

I nod. “I see, my Lord.”

His head cocks to the side, his eyes still on me as Caracalla steps up beside him. “Your hair is absolutely gorgeous! That red is so vibrant!”

“Thank you, my Lord.” Their eyes are studying me, watching me and for the first time, I realize exactly why Marcus asked Lucilla to tutor me. 

“Come! Let’s celebrate and get to know your new wife!” They turn and head into the room behind them, marching up to a table with a few goblets of wine. Marcus looks at me and gives me a soft smile before offering his arm to escort me inside. A servant offers us both a glass of wine and I take it, copying Marcus. 

“We will have the games in your honor, Acacius.” Geta holds out his cup to toast. 

“That is not necessary. I am merely happy to serve Rome.” Marcus lifts his glass to toast, but Geta withdraws his own, Caracalla looking between them with disappointment. 

“Nonsense. We are celebrating your wins, Acacius.”

“The wins are not mine but yours. I do this for Rome.”

Geta stares at Marcus for several tense moments. “Then you’ll be happy to hear we plan on conquering India and many others next, under your leadership of course.”

Marcus’s shoulders droop ever so slightly. “My Emperors. I was hoping to have a break from war to spend time with my new wife.”

My heart swells, but then Geta interrupts my thoughts. “Surely it won’t take you that long to make babies?”

Caracalla laughs. “It might brother. He is old.” They laugh together, Marcus smirking at an attempt to join in the jest, but I’m seething inside. This old man could kill them in an instant. 

“Whatever time it takes, I’d like to make sure my wife settles in and is comfortable before I go off again.”

Geta studies him a moment. “Nimibia.”

I can feel Marcus tense beside me. “What of Nimibia?”

“Take Nimibia for us. Once you return, we will have the games and then talk of a break for your lovely wife.” Getas eyes find mine for a moment, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips before he looks to Marcus. “That is not a request.”

Marcus takes a deep breath. “As my Emperors command.”

Caracalla claps his hands together. “Excellent! And don’t worry about Cornelia. I’m sure she’ll have fun at court!”

It’s merely a week later when Marcus heads for Port Ostia, his troops sailing this time to Nimibia. We had said several long goodbyes as I held him between my thighs. His last kiss was hard and deep, pouring every ounce of love and worry into it. He pulls back and cradles my face in his hands, speaking so quietly that I can almost not hear him.

“Stick close to Lucilla. You can only trust who she trusts, yes?” I nod. “Say nothing to anyone. There are ears everywhere.”

“I understand.”

He kisses me again. “Please be safe, Cornelia. Court is deceptively dangerous.”

“You’re going off to a literal battle and you’re telling me to be safe?”

There is no smile on his face. “Some battles are fought with swords. Others are fought with words and they can often do more damage.”

He’s right. “I understand. If I miss you, I can simply go stare at your statue.”

Marcus groans, rubbing a hand across his face. “You’re never going to let me live that one down are you?”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

“I did not ask for that.”

“I bet not.” 

“Truly! I came back from a campaign and they demanded it. And now I have to stare at that thing every time I walk down that street. I try to avoid it.” We chuckle together at that and then fall silent for a bit. 

I smooth my hands down the front of his armor. “Listen here, Marcus Acacius. You-” I jab a finger at his armor. “-are not allowed to die. Or get severely wounded. I forbid it. I won’t allow it. Do you understand me?”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he tries to remain serious. “Yes, ma’am.”

We watch each other for a few moments, Marcus brushing a few stray red strands of hair off of my face. One last kiss, a heated one, and then he abruptly spins on his heel and leaves, closing the door behind him. One might find this harsh but I get it. He had to make a quick exit. It’s too hard to leave otherwise. I walk to the window and watch him stride to his waiting horse, taking the reigns from the stable boy as he heads out of the city. 

The house is quiet, except for the street noise from outside. There is a servant wandering around in the kitchen, but I am truly alone in this giant city.

Alone in a city full of people, most of whom I can’t trust. 

It’s been 2 months and I am certain about one thing: I. Hate. Court.

The Emperors demand my appearance at nearly every single party they put on, some of them more mild but most of them are outrageous. They bring in people to fight to the death as they place bets, the blood and body parts splattering across the floor to cheers and geers. The first time this happened, I was not prepared. I practically ran from the room to empty my stomach into the first pot I could find. 

When there weren’t fights to the death, and even when there were, the amount of promiscuity made me extremely uncomfortable. I am not a prude by any means, but I also don’t care to partake in massive orgies, especially when I was not made aware it was that kind of party. Emperor Geta tried to get me to stay, talking to me as I tried to keep my attention solely on him. Eventually, the woman hanging off of him took his full attention and I managed to slip away. Thankfully, no one questioned my absence. 

I tried often to get out of these parties, choosing to spend more time with Lucilla or pretend I was sick. It worked sometimes, either I missed my invitation or I was too ill to answer it. I remembered what Marcus had told me about being careful so when Lucilla told me I would have to stomach at least a few parties to keep up appearances, I did. For Marcus. 

Another month goes by when I receive another invitation. I’m about to say my apologies, as I have no desire to be amongst all of the backstabbing and political plays, but the delivery boy taps the front of the letter, urging me to read it. I open the invitation and my stomach flips, my lips pulling up in a smile as tears drop from my eyes.

Marcus will be home the day after tomorrow, a successful conquer of Nimibia. 

“Let the Emperors know I will be at the welcoming ceremony.” The boy nods and turns, running back to the capital building. 

My mind is whirling with questions and scenarios, mainly wondering if he had been injured. I had only received one letter in his absence, and he told me it would be almost impossible to communicate once he reached a point. Still, it has been hard these last months without him. 

“Leta?” I call out and my servant comes around the corner. 

“Ma’am?”

“General Acacius is coming home. Come, help me figure out what to wear.”

Just like my initial arrival into the city, the crowds are massive and loud and for once I’m glad I’m at the top of these ridiculous stairs. Leta and I had chosen the same outfit I’d worn on that day to match Marcus. Before we head out of the capital building and wait at the top of the stairs, Emperor Geta walks up to me.

“Nervous?” His eyes study me.

I smile coyly, playing my part. “A little.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure he’s fine. And if not…well I’m sure I can find a place for you here.” He takes a sip from a goblet, his eyes never leaving my face.

I swallow the bile rising in the back of my throat. “You are too kind, Emperor.”

He takes a step closer to me, too close in my opinion. He brushes my hair behind my exposed shoulder, his eyes tracing down my neck and across my collarbone. “I am nothing if not generous.”

Before I can say or do anything, a soldier walks in and salutes, his fisted hand tapping the opposite side of his chest. “Emperor Caracalla, Emperor Geta. They are in the city walls.”

Geta’s gaze is still on my face. “Come. Let’s go see if your husband is still…intact.” He offers me his arm and every fiber of my being wants to reject it. But I remember Lucilla’s words of warning. Always accept an arm from the Emperor. I put on that coy smile and take it, my stomach churning both at his touch and anticipation for what I’m about to see. Caracalla comes to my other side and we all walk out, Geta dropping my arm several feet from where they will great Marcus. I wait and try to remember how to breathe. The crowd gets louder and louder, their cries suddenly taking on a shape.

Acacius! Acacius! Acacius!

Relief washes over me as I realize they’re chanting his name, which means he must be on his chariot. I can’t see from my position, but a few moments later, Geta and Caracalla look down the steps and I assume he must be coming up them. I hold my breath, waiting for my first glimpse of my husband since he left nearly 4 months ago. 

Suddenly, he’s there. Dressed in white and gold, the sun shining down on his beautiful greying curls, a new scar across his cheek, but otherwise in perfect health. All limbs and no limping. I let out another sigh of relief, unable to stop a few tears from tracing a path down my cheeks. Marcus salutes the Emperors, pointedly not looking at me. I know he has to pay them their proper respects. It’s all part of the game. Some words are exchanged between them, but I only have eyes for Marcus, how he leans his head down so they can place yet another crown of laurels upon it, the way he stands strong, but trying not to impose. The way I can see how exhausted he is in his eyes, even though others may not see it. 

“Ah yes. Your wife. She is here.” Geta steps to the side, gesturing for me to come. I follow the command, my eyes on Marcus, seeing his face light up as his eyes rake over my body both in concern and something darker.

Marcus offers his outstretched hands to me and I take them, his familiar touch relaxing me even more. 

“My lady,” Marcus leans and plants a kiss to the back of my hand, standing back up to smile at me.

Marcus turns and addresses the crowd once more, his arm high in the air, before turning back and offering his arm to me, following the Emperors back inside the capital building. A servant comes and offers us wine, which we all accept. 

“We will have games in your honor. May your sword always be sharp and ready for Rome.”

Marcus shifts beside me. “Games are not necessary, my Emperors. I do this for Rome.”

Geta lowers his cup, the sip he was about to take abandoned. “Nonsense. We must give you the praise you’ve earned.”

“I am happy with no praise. I am only here to serve Rome.”

Geta studies him for a moment. “Well then you’ll be pleased to know we’ve decided to go after India next.”

Marcus clears his throat and I can feel him tense beside me. “Emperors, I was hoping to have the time off of war to spend with my wife that we had discussed before Nimibia.”

Geta looks at me and smirks. “Oh, I think she’s settled in just fine. Haven’t you, Cornelia?”

I plaster on as convincing a smile as I can. “Everyone here is wonderful. But I’ll admit, I have missed my husband and would love to have time with him, as husband and wife should.” 

“Mmm…” Geta’s eyes slowly move to Marcus. “And what say you, General Acacius? Would you let your wife keep you from doing what you do best?”

“May I speak plainly, my Emperors?” Geta cocks his head slightly but nods. “I was contemplating retirement. I am not getting any younger and my captain is more than capable of taking my place. It would give me time to start a family on the estate I am due.”

Caracalla stomps his foot. “No games, then? I want to see limbs being chopped off! I want to see blood! I want to see-”

“Brother! Enough. But you do give me an interesting thought.” He pauses, and I feel like I want to vomit. “We will have the games. And General Acacius, you are correct. You are due an estate at your retirement, anywhere of your choosing. However, it would be a great loss to Rome to lose someone of such skill.”

Marcus shifts slightly. “My Emperors, as I said before, my captain is perfectly-”

“I am not finished.” Marcus closes his mouth and waits. “As I was saying, your retirement would be a great loss to Rome. So how about this: you will compete in some of the battles in the games to represent us, Rome, as a sort of…farewell. If you win, you get to retire and you have my promise no one will bother you. If you refuse, you will leave for India immediately and you will continue warring in the name of Rome until the day you don’t return.” 

Caracalla claps and whoops, but all I hear is whooshing, the sounds from all around me fading into the background. Marcus? Compete in the games? The ones where people fight animals and each other and Gods know what else to the death?

“May I have a moment?” Marcus asks. Geta waves a hand, taking a sip of his wine and turning to talk to his brother, who is still animatedly waving his arms about. 

Marcus takes my arm and escorts me a few feet away, glancing around to make sure no one is in ear shot as he leans in, his eyes on mine. “I have to take this.”

“No! I have not been to these games but if they’re anything like the parties I was forced to attend, you cannot do it!” 

“Cornelia, I cannot keep going away to war. The moment I get back they will send me off again. And one day I may fall and not get back up, lost to another land.”

I lean up, pretending to kiss his cheek. “We could run away. Tell them no and I’ll sneak on the ships or take Caius. We could run away and start over somewhere else.”

“My love, you know they would hunt us down and find us. This is the Roman Empire. They own almost all the world.”

Tears well in my eyes as he pulls back. “I am afraid, Marcus. What happens if…if…”

He pulls my hands up and kisses them. “If something happens to me, go to Lucilla. Stay with her. She will get you out of the city safely. They won’t chase just you.”

“No, Marcus. You can’t.”

He presses a soft kiss to my lips. “I must.”   

The next day, Marcus and I sit in chairs behind the Emperors, his hand holding mine as they let loose some animals and fighters into the arena. The scene that follows is not a pretty one but I force myself to watch as the men mostly get punctured with horns or teeth, others being stabbed by their fellow fighters once the animals have all died. One man remained, brown hair and anger in his stance, and he was declared winner of that round.

There were several more rounds of this sort of thing. Sometimes the men would have weapons and other times not. The one thing that was consistent was the blood and gore and death. My stomach churned as I watched the blood pool in pockets around the arena, handlers carting away limbs as the crowd cheered. Then the Emperors stood, Geta turning to face Marcus and I as we stood. 

“Tomorrow, you will have your first match. Sleep well.” He smirks before leaving through the door, Caracalla following in his wake, his monkey perched on his shoulder. I start to say something but Marcus squeezes my hand, shaking his head slightly. It’s not safe to talk here. We hardly say a word to each other on the way back to our apartment, both of our minds on tomorrow. I let Leta go home the moment we come in, rounding on Marcus the second she leaves. 

“You cannot go tomorrow!”

Marcus beckons me to him as he walks to a small table to pour us 2 glasses of wine. He hands me one and we each take a sip, Marcus patting the seat next to him. I take it, setting my glass back on the small table. He speaks quietly, as if he’s afraid there’s someone listening. 

“There is more to this than you can see.”

My eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”

He leans in closer. “There is a plan to retake Rome.”

“You mean, overthrow the Emperors?”

“Exactly.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?”

He shifts even closer to me, our bodies touching. “I have 5000 soldiers coming to Port Ostia. Men who are loyal to me as is my captain. They will march into the city and arrest the Emperors for crimes against the people.”

Nerves hit my stomach, both from relief and anxiety. “Then why don’t you move?”

“They won’t be there for another 8 days. We just have to hang on for that time.”

We’re quiet for a moment. “Who takes over?”

“Lucilla and those still loyal to her father have a plan. Rome will serve her people once more.”

Marcus cups my cheek, turning my face to look him in the eyes. “I know I am asking a lot of you, my love. I did not anticipate the Emperors asking me to compete, but I must keep up appearances.”

Tears start to well in my eyes at the thought of tomorrow. “But what if you-” he cuts me off with a kiss, his tongue pressing its way into my mouth before he pulls back, his forehead against mine. 

“Tomorrow is tomorrow. I may be older but I am still a soldier.”

I don’t eat the next morning, Marcus already gone before I wake. Leta dresses me in silence, this time in a black tunic laced with a gold trim, a red scarf to toss over my shoulder. She gives me a small smile. “To match General Acacius,” she says simply, having seen him depart this morning in his armor. 

An hour or so later, I’m sitting in the Emperor’s box, my chair moved to be seated between the Emperors. I clasp my hands together to keep them from fidgeting with my outfit, willing my legs to stop bouncing. A couple of battles go by but I pay them little attention, only noting that the same man with the anger in his eyes seems to have won some more, the crowd now starting to chant his name. Hanno! Hanno! Hanno! Once the arena was cleared and reset, the announcer clears his throat, addressing the crowd.  

“This battle will be different. General Acacius has agreed to compete in the fights in the name of Rome!” The crowd, momentarily bewildered, starts cheering and chanting his name. One set of gates open and several armed soldiers exit, walking to the middle of the arena. Then the gates on the other side open and the crowd goes wild. Acacius! Acacius! Acacius! Marcus struts out into the arena, sword in hand and determination on his face. I hold my breath and I swear my heart stops beating. A few of the soldiers step forward, meeting Marcus halfway. He salutes them, the hand holding his sword pressed to the opposite shoulder as he bows his head slightly, the soldiers copying him. 

And then, he dances. 

Marcus runs at the first soldier, slashing him down instantly with his sword, coming up to meet the next one. He gets tripped and lands on his back but wastes no time in slashing at their ankles, getting back on his feet only a handful of seconds after he fell. Another soldier slices him across the back and I gasp, seeing Marcus yell in pain before turning to slash at the soldier. 2 more rush him and he parries, a fist making contact with his cheek before he can block it. His sword rises and slices through 2 more soldiers within moments, leaving only one left. The soldier knocks him down but Marcus pulls him with him, angling his sword up so the soldier spears himself upon it as Marcus’s back slams into the ground, his chest heaving. 

The crowd goes wild, his name is chanted louder than before, deafening in the echo of the stadium. He rises to his feet, his sword at his side as he looks around, finding me in the Emperor’s box. He puts his fist to his shoulder in salute, bowing to not just the Emperors, but to me. A sigh of relief escapes me as I release the breath I had been holding for what feels like ages. Then a scoff of disappointment reaches my ears. 

“Damn. I wanted to see more blood!” Caracalla whines, his monkey screeching once at the rise of his voice. 

“Don’t worry brother. You may see more of it soon.”

Rage pours through my veins, my chest heaving against my will to not say or do anything. I swallow hard, turning my gaze to Emperor Geta. 

“My lord, may I go and see to my husband?”

His dark eyes bore into mine. “I think they have doctors there that would be better suited to tend his injuries.”

“You are correct of course, but some things require a woman’s touch.”

Geta smirks, the corners of his mouth ticking up in a more menacing way than I think he realizes. “Touche. Go to him.”

“Thank you.” I bow to them both and calmly take my leave, running once I am out of ear shot. I flag down a guard and demand he take me to where they have the fighters, specifically, the General. He escorts me across the arena and down a few tunnels until we come to a giant barred wall with a barred door set into it. He knocks and a man comes to it.

“Is the general here?”

The guard shakes his head. “Healer’s room. Next gate over.” I thank them both and run to the door, my hand raised to knock before I realize it’s not locked. I walk inside and see…no one. No one is here. I walk back outside and look around. Nothing. But then he rounds the corner, a man following next to him, trying to dab at a scratch on his face. He sees me and his entire demeanor shifts. I run to him, throwing my arms around him the moment we collide. He pushes me against the wall, his hands cupping my face, pressing his heated lips to mine, his thigh sliding between my legs. The man clears his throat but if Marcus hears him, he doesn’t acknowledge him. He merely walks me backwards to the healer’s door and kicks it open, the healer complaining and throwing his hands in the air when Marcus slams it behind us with his foot. 

He walks me backwards, our lips still dancing when my back collides with the exam table. He gropes at my tunic, bunching it up to my hips as he grips them, lifting me up on the table. He shifts himself and pushes into me with a grunt, my lips breaking the kiss as I gasp. His fingers are deep and bruising as he holds my hip with one hand, hitching my thighs around him with the other before slamming it down on the table, giving himself more leverage to thrust deeper and harder, the adrenaline from the fight fueling his desires. I bite his lip and he growls, pressing me further into the table with each thrust as I cling to his broad shoulders. My muscles tighten, my blood pulsing between my thighs as I cum, Marcus swallowing my moans with his mouth. He thrusts into me a few more times before he bites my shoulder, grunting and moaning as he spills himself inside of me. We stay like that, attached and breathing heavily for several long moments, his forehead now pressed to my chest. I raise an arm weakly, running my fingers through his hair. Finally he looks up at me, his brown eyes searching mine. 

“Did I hurt you?”

I smile, shaking my head. “You never do.”

He seems to realize where we are now, straightening up and pulling himnself from me with a hiss. I slide my tunic back down and stand up, adjusting my clothes. 

“I am sorry, Cornelia. I lost myself.”

I cock my head. “Sorry for?”

He gestures around. “It is…not exactly the most private place.”

I stand in front of him and grip him by the armor, looking up into his eyes. “You could fuck me in front of the entire Roman army and I’d beg you to do it again.”

His eyes darken, an eyebrow raised. “Oh really? Because I could make that-”

“Excuse me? Sir?” The healer is at the door, cautiously knocking and trying to avert his eyes. “I need to tend to your wounds. If…if I may?”

Marcus and I exchange a smirk. “Yes. I am…sorry. I get carried away by the sight of my wife.”

The healer chuckles, removing his hand from his eyes and looking at me before looking back at Marcus. “Don’t worry, sir. I have the same reaction to my wife. Which is why we have so many children.” 

The next night, we are wakened by a knock at the door. Marcus sits up and pulls on his tunic, gesturing for me to stay in bed. He comes back in a moment later, his eyes concerned. 

“It’s Lucilla. Did you send home Leta?”

I nod. “Yes. No one should be here until morning. Is everything ok?”

“I don’t know. Get something on an come out.”

I do as he says, quickly pulling over a tunic and a sleeping robe before I head out, seeing Marcus already pouring a glass of wine for Lucilla. She thanks him and takes a nervous sip, looking at me as I walk over. 

“Can I speak freely?” She addresses Marcus, glancing back at me. 

Marcus nods. “She knows. Is everything alright?”

Lucilla takes a shuddering breath and meets his gaze. “It’s him, Marcus.”

“Who?”

“Lucius. My son. He’s back.”

Marcus is silent for several moments, my mind trying to catch up. I do remember her mentioning a son at one point, but I assumed he’d died, as she stopped talking about him after a certain age. 

“Are you sure?”

She nods. “I went to see him. This Hanno? That is him. He hates me, Marcus.” Tears start to fall down her cheeks. Marcus takes her hands in his in an attempt to soother her. 

“I am sure that is not true.”

She nods. “He hates me for sending him away.”

“May I speak?” I ask, unsure of my place in this conversation. Lucilla looks up at me, her cheeks glinting in the candlelight with her tears as she nods.

“I was sent away when I was young as well. I don’t think he hates you. He may be upset with you but not hate. I’m sure you didn’t send him away for no reason.”

She shakes her head. “If he had stayed, they would have killed him.”

“Why?” I ask, still not entirely certain I understand Roman politics. 

“Because he is the only heir to the Roman throne. The grandson of Marcus Aurelius.”

I know that should mean more than it does to me, but I have heard his name whispered and seen busts of him, mostly in Lucilla’s home. I know he was her father and from what I gather, the last decent Emperor of Rome. When the Emperors still cared about the people. 

Marcus address Lucilla. “My troops are only a few days away. Then they will come into Rome to arrest the Emperors as planned.”

“But you will also have to enter the arena again during this time. What happens if you die?”

Marcus’s jaw clenches slightly. “My captain would still carry out my orders.”

Lucilla shakes her head. “I don’t know. This feels like too much time.”

“What if we..speed it up?” I ask. They both look at me questioningly. “It’s just…I’ve had to spend a lot of time with the Emperors over the last few months and…they each hate that they have to split the crown with the other. I can see it in their eyes, their small movements and glances towards each other. There is brotherly love, but there is a lot of hate and jealousy. What if we use that to our advantage?”

“How so?” Lucilla asks.

I take a deep breath, knowing that this will fall heavily on my shoulders. “We pit them against each other. Whisper in their ears rumors that they’d heard about the other one. Maybe about them trying to take the crown for themselves? Anything to drive that wedge. They may just off each other.”

Marcus looks at me. “This sounds very dangerous. And there’s no guarantee that it would be quicker than my troops.”

I take Marcus’s hand. “I’ve had to be around them for months, watching. Observing. Trust me, it’s right under the surface.”

Marcus and Lucilla exchange a look. “It could work, Marcus. She’s not wrong.”

“Yes but she will be in danger. I don’t want that.”

I squeeze his hand and he looks at me. “We’re all in danger the longer we’re here. You don’t think they would try to take you out just to have me? Why do you think you’re in the games? I can do this, Marcus. They would love the attention, especially Geta.” 

Lucilla thinks a moment. “They kill each other and my son takes over as heir. Assuming he would want that title. If not, we have a replacement. He already said he would happily stand aside for Lucius.”

Marcus shakes his head. “I don’t know-”

“It would mean far less bloodshed than a battle between soldiers. You know lives are bound to be lost if the soldiers enter Rome by force. This way, only 2 lives should be gone and Rome will be all the better for it.”

Marcus gets up and paces the room, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. Finally he sighs and comes back over.

“Let’s do this.”

The next day, I put on a tunic that Geta had complimented me on previously. Leta fixes my hair, half up with some braids pinned around my head. Leta leaves and Marcus takes her place, his hands on my shoulders. 

“Are you sure, Cornelia?”

I place a hand over his and squeeze. “This will work. I’m sure.”

An hour later, and I find myself tossing my head back with fake laughter at something Caracalla said. I gently touch Geta’s arm as tears stream down his face from laughter. 

“And his head just popped! Clean off! Rolled right across the floor!” Caracalla continues to laugh, turning to one of the men he has surrounding him, who immediately gives him all of his attention. I pick up my glass of wine, thinking of what to say.

“You’re so kind with that,” I nod in Caracalla’s direction, speaking to Geta as I take a sip.

“Kind? With what?” 

I turn and look at him, leaning a little closer, Geta matching my lean. “You allow your brother to go on and on about violence without worrying. It’s clear it means a lot to him.”

“Yes, I am kind…but…I don’t quite catch your meaning here?”

I look up at him, swallowing down the bile in my throat at his close proximity. “Weren’t the two men in his story brothers? Who both tried to control their family farm?”

He shakes his head. “So?”

“So..well, I just thought…oh nevermind.”

Geta shifts his body to face me, leaning closer. “Tell me. Speak freely.”

I hold my wine glass in front of my mouth, as if I’m telling him a secret. “Well, it’s sort of like you and your brother. Twins, having to share the crown. Him being above you being he was born first-”

“He is not above me!” Geta whispers angrily. 

I avert my eyes. “I am sorry, Emperor Geta. I was merely repeating what he’d said to me.” It’s not entirely a lie. I had heard Caracalla speaking about how he was born first and so he was first ruler. But he didn’t say it to me directly.

Fire burned in Geta’s eyes as they shifted from me to Caracalla. “And what else did my brother say?”

“Oh I shouldn’t-”

Geta grips my forearm tightly. “Tell. Me.”

So I launch into a small story I’d made up, planting more and more seeds of doubt in his mind.

That night at their dinner party, I walk up to Caracalla, speaking to his monkey. We chat about monkeys for a moment, Caracalla glancing over my shoulder every so often.

“I’m sorry, Emperor, is there something I’m keeping you from?”

“Hhmm? Oh no. It’s just..” He leans in closer to me. “Geta has been looking at me oddly all day. Like he’s upset.”

I glance over at Geta, who is currently involved in a conversation with a Senator. “I- well I shouldn’t say.”

Caracall looks at me. “Tell me.”

“Well, earlier I heard someone talking about how you’re first born so you’re the first Emperor.”

He nods. “I was and am.”

“Yes, well, Emperor Geta overheard that and was furious. He started telling everyone he was the main Emperor. Not you.”

“Oh really?” The same rage that fired up in Geta’s eyes now burned in his brothers. “He’s always been jealous of me!”

“Well, you do have a great monkey.”

Caracalla looks at me for a moment and then laughs. “You’re right! I do! Come, let me show you how he can dance!”

2 days and I’m spent. I cannot stroke their egos any more. Unfortunately, Marcus is to compete today, hopefully the last battle he will have to do. This time I wake with him, Marcus putting his head between my thighs before I can even move. When I try to pull him up, he declines, saying he needs to save up the energy. Something about it being good for battle. 

“As long as you come home and fuck me into this bed.”

Marcus groans, kissing one of my boobs. “That is a promise. But now, I must get ready or I will simply stay in bed all day.”

“That sounds better. Let’s do that.”

He chuckles, kissing me deeply before pushing himself up and getting dressed, the same armor as he’d worn a few days previously. He cups my face, kissing me gently before looking into my eyes.

“I love you. Be safe.”

Gods his eyes are all big and brown. “I love you. Please come back to me.”

“Now this is another special fight!” The announcer speaks to the crowd. “The strong General Acacius!” The gate at one end of the arena opens and Marcus struts out of it, sword in hand, as he walks to the middle of the arena as the crowd screams his name.The announcer waits a moment, letting the crowd settle a little. “Against the mighty barbarian, Hanno!” The crowd cheers for him too, a mix of names chanting around the arena.

I feel Lucilla behind me, trying not to make a scene. This is not something we anticipated. Marcus should not be fighting Hanno, I mean, Lucius, to the death! My pulse speeds up, my blood quickly pumping through me. Marcus turns, seeing Lucius angrily strutting towards him. But before he gets even part way, Geta stands and addresses his captain.

“Make sure your bows are fixed on Acacius. If he wins, kill him.”

“What??” I gasp out, staring up at Emperor Geta in complete shock. He smiles, the dark makeup around his eyes making them look even more menacing than usual. He sits down next to me, leaning in, a small hand placed on my thigh. 

“Do not worry, my dear. No one will question me and I will free you from this marriage so you can be with me.”

I can feel the color drain from my face. “Emperor Geta, I am..flattered, but I made an oath-”

“And I’ll help you to break it! My wedding gift to you!”

Shit. I flew too close to the sun on this one and Geta took it as flirting. I want to throw up, but there’s nothing I can do. They collide in front of me, swords slashing, Lucius headbutting Marcus as he stumbles, quickly regaining his footing as Lucius slams into him, Marcus using his weight to flip him on his back. Lucius swipes at Marcu’s feet as he leaps back, coming up to lunge at him again, the two men grappling. Lucius manages to slam his hand into Marcus, who relents, turning to shove Lucius into the ground. They roll, Marcus jumping up and to the side as Lucius swipes his sword, barely missing him. But when he rights himself, I can see that Marcus has no weapon. 

Lucius gestures to the staff on the ground with his sword and Marcus picks it up, both of them lunging back into battle, the staff quickly snapping in two. Marcus manages to knock Lucius’s head, momentarily stunning him enough he could get behind him in a chokehold. Lucius flings his head back and Marcus stumbles, quickly rallying with a sucker punch to Lucius’s stomach. They clash again, Lucius dropping to the ground after a few moments, getting back up with a smile on his face. They talk for a moment, but then Marcus throws his weapons on the ground, dropping to his knees, and raising his hand in surrender. My stomach churns and I nearly vomit. What is he thinking? 

“Acacius has raised his hand! He has surrendered!” The announcer yells. “Let the Gods decide!”

I feel Geta shift beside me, but I grab his arm. “Wait!” 

Geta looks down at my hand and then into my eyes. “My love, the Gods will speak through me and this will all be over soon.”

I squeeze his arm, willing my nerves to just give me a moment to think. “I know, but I think we should have a toast. After all, he is your General.”

Geta studies me for a moment. Then he nods and I feel momentarily relieved. “Good idea.” He holds up a hand to request a pause. “The Gods are…deciding!”

While he is distrtacted, I get up, taking the offered glasses of wine, my palla swiftly passing over Geta’s as I hand it to him, my own glass poised for a toast. 

“To us, my dear. And to the Gods.” Geta proclaims.

“To the Gods,” I say back, lifting my glass. I see Geta take a sip and turn to Caracalla, who was just taking his goblet from the tray, having had to adjust the monkey on his shoulder. He picks it up and nearly presses it to his lips before I grip his wrist. “Dont!”

Caracalla freezes. “What? Why?”

“It’s poisoned!”

And that is all it takes to crumble two Emperors. 

Caracalla stands up, pointing an accusing finger at his brother. “It was you! You tried to poison me!”

Geta’s eyes are wild. I can tell he’d thought about poisoning his brother. “I did not! Do you hear yourself, brother?”

But it’s too late. Caracalla’s eyes are wide and nearly black with rage as he steps closer to Geta. “You were always jealous I was first! First out of the womb, more loved by mother, and HEAD EMPEROR!” 

Geta’s fists ball up. “You are NOT first Emperor!”

Caracalla laughs manically and I take this moment to sneak out from between them. I don’t want to get caught in that. 

“Jealous! You can’t even admit that I have a higher station than you! So much that you try to poison me?”

Geta’s eyes are wild with anger, spit flying from his mouth as he steps up to Caracalla, yelling “I wish I had done it because you deserve to die!”

Caracalla gasps, momentarily frozen before looking down, the red blood seeping quickly through his white tunic, a knife embedded in him. Geta quickly removes it, watching as his brother drops to the ground, his body moving no more after a moment. Geta tries to straighten up, but he clutches at his stomach. 

“He…he was mad! He was…he would have…what…is happening?” Geta drops to the ground, groaning and yelling in pain as he clutches his stomach. A servant tries to help him but he yells in their face, the color draining from him as his breathing becomes labored. And then his gaze goes blank, his head dropping against the ground.  

For a moment, no one moves. But then the captain snaps me out of it as he commands his troops. “Keep your bows on him! Stand your ground!”

I quietly sneak to a soldier and, in a move Marcus had taught me, hit a certain spot on his shoulder that send him tumbling, but not before I grab his bow and notch an arrow, another in my hand.

“Move!” I yell and the crowd parts as I raise my bow and aim it at the bewildered captain.

I summon all the courage I have, not just for me but for protecting Marcus, and command “Tell your men to stand down!”

The captain just looks at me, almost smirking. “And what are you going to do with that, little girl?”

I loose the arrow and it glides into the pole just next to his head. By the time his head snaps back to look at me, I’ve notched the next arrow. 

“I don’t want to kill you. Look around. Your Emperors are dead from greed and jealousy. Drop your weapons and pledge yourself to your new emperor.”

Still bewildered, the captain takes a moment to respond. “And who might that be?”

“The grandson of Marcus Aurelius and heir to the throne, Lucius Varius Aurelius.” I nod towards Lucius in the arena, my bow still aimed at the captain. 

“Lucius…he’s alive?” The captain asks.

“He is.” Lucilla comes up beside me, addressing the captain. “I can confirm it.”

He thinks a moment. “Well then. Stand down, men.” He watches me as I wait, watching all of the archers to make sure they’ve all put down their bows. When I’m sure, I lower mine as well. 

The captain turns towards the arena. “Lucius Varius Aurelius! I pledge myself to you!” He salutes, one fist against his opposite shoulder as he drops to one knee, his soldiers all following suit. Soon the entire arena follows, everyone bowing to Lucius who, bless him, looks completely out of his element. He tentatively raises a hand and everyone cheers, chanting his name as it echoes across the stonework. 

As the crowd continues to chant and cheer their new Emperor, I drop the bow and run down the back steps, moving as fast as I can towards the gladiator entrance. The guards, having seen me before, fling the gates open and I sprint past them, moving quickly into the arena. The crowds are still chanting Lucius’s name, but my eyes are purely for one man. Marcus turns his head, seeing me coming for him and stands, his chest heaving from fighting and tension, but he still jogs towards me. We crash into each other, Marcus picking me up, his lips finding mine like they were meant to. He pushes his tongue into my willing mouth and I taste sweat and blood mixed in with his scent. The crowd notices as they change from Lucius to ooooo! I break the kiss, pressing my forehead to his for a moment before I look into his eyes, so soft and warm. A small clearing of the throat comes to me and we turn our heads, looking at Lucius.

“Hi,” He does a little wave. “Uh what the fuck just happened?”

We laugh, Marcus placing me back down on the ground. He drops back down to his knee, saluting him. “I, General Acacius, do pledge myself to you, Emperor Lucius.”

Lucius’s eyes widen even more. “What if I don’t want this?”

“You have a choice. If you think this is not your fate, there is another who will take your place. But he is happy to step aside for the grandson of Marcus Aurelius.” 

He nods, still looking uncertain. “But what if I don’t know what to do?”

I smile at him, stepping closer. “Your mother, and her trusted people, will guide you.”

He nods again, turning back to Marcus. “Rise. Or whatever.” He extends a hand and helps Marcus to his feet. “I totally would’ve had you.”

“Keep dreaming, Emperor.”

4 years later on an olive farm outside of the capital…

The light streams in through the window on my face, gently waking me to a new day. I blink my eyes open slowly, stretching lazily. I try to sit up, but a large arm wraps around my bare torso and pulls me close to his own bare body, burying his face in my neck.

“Marcus,” my voice laced with sleep. “It’s time to wake. The twins will be up soon.”

Marcus groans, a quiet “No” emanating from his chest. “Let the servants cook them breakfast today.”

I chuckle. “They do love Leta’s breakfast. But you also have that meeting with the other olive farmers today.”

Marcus starts to kiss a spot on my neck, applying more pressure so as to leave a mark. He lets it go, nuzzling the spot with his nose as the skin reddens. He continues to kiss my shoulder, gently pushing me on my back as he slots his massive frame between my legs. He stares down at me, softly pushing a stray hair from my face. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says in awe.

I trace the scar on his cheek with my finger. “Not as beautiful as you.”

He kisses me and then pulls back to nip at my chin. “The farmers can wait. I plan on putting as many babies in you as you’ll let me.”

He pushes into me with a moan, my head pushing back into the bed as he gently slides his hips against mine, taking his time to make sure he gets evey sound, every ounce of pleasure he can from me. 

And when I come downstairs and see him play wrestling with the twins, I think about how lucky I was that my brother tried to use me as a pawn all those years ago. Sure, it was hell enduring my brother, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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[ceasarslegion]

I don't really think pretending someone's disability doesn't exist is really doing anyone any favours if youre trying to be accessible. I think of all the disabled passengers I have dealt with in my job as airport security, and it's always so much smoother on everyone involved if I just like, acknowledge their disability and act accordingly. Like there was a guy without any limbs who rolled up in a power wheelchair once, and I just opened the gate for him to roll on over for a pat down instead of going all "ooohh can you go through the metal detector for a few steps? 🥺" because that felt like a stupid question that would've come off as mockery when he literally did not have arms or legs and was moving through a mouth-controlled power wheelchair. And we had a lovely conversation about crazy gambling stories and his plans for his vegas trip with his friends while I patted him down. There was no point in drawing attention to him by acting like the questions we were technically supposed to ask everyone to "not assume things" could be applied en masse. Because sometimes it's not an assumption but just the information your own eyes are telling you about someone.

There was another passenger once who also didn't have limbs but did have like, half of an arm he was pushing himself around on a skateboard with, and I had to search his bag. He was very mobile all things considered, and in that case I just asked him if he wanted me to pack his bag back up for him because I didn't know. Usually I don't because I have a whole line of other bags to deal with, and that case felt did feel like an assumption after I'd seen for myself how mobile he was, but I could still acknowledge his disability and go "do you want me to pack it back up for you?" the implication being "i can see you have a different ability level than me, so would it be more comfortable for you if I did this part instead?" and he ended up saying "that would be good of you man, thanks. Just slide it back to me after." And like I assume he can do it himself, its just that airports are loud and stressful and exhausting and even more so when you have a disability, so sometimes it's not a question of if you CAN do something, but what gives you a small break from something that's harder for you.

I think a lot of accessibility issues come from this idea that we have to radically treat everyone exactly the same and never point out when people have different levels of abilities, and I understand where that sentiment comes from, but I don't think it really does anyone any favours in the long run when you're dealing with people whose disabilities literally do affect every aspect of their lives.

Funny story though: once had a guy who would not stop alarming on the metal detector. Nothing in his pockets, no belt buckle, didn't bump the sides, we were so stumped. I just go "alright I'll give you a scan then and we'll figure it out." Left leg beeps, I pat it down, stop, and say "...do you have a prosthetic leg" and the guy double-handed facepalms himself and goes "I FORGOT THAT MY WHOLE LEG IS METAL"

[itsalwaysteatimeinwonderland]

Finding Peace Pt.1: Paid in Lies (Spike x Y/N)

Requested: No. Part 1 of the Multific.

Synopsis: This is lore for the character in the other fics. It helps to build up the relationship and the direction. Feel free to get acquainted with it. <3

Word count: 2.5k

TW: None.

Masterlist | Next

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Another droll day with the Scoobies. The Magic Box was their hangout after all. Spike wishes he was anywhere but this place. However, he found himself at the metaphysical store more times than not. After getting the chip implanted and losing his ability to kill, he finds himself being amused by their banter and attempts at saving the world.

Today was different. The normal Scooby chatter was taken up by a voice he didn't recognize. A story he had never heard was being told followed by laughter. He was weary of new people.

"So then I told him that he couldn't tell a newt's eye from a bat's and that's what makes him a horrible wizard." Y/n exclaimed and laughter erupted.

"I can't believe you got into a fight with a kid over the last piece of candy." Willow stated.

"I take Halloween very seriously." You quipped.

"Aren't you like a hundred?" Xander chimed in.

"Rude. I'm 25. I can still trick or treat. They say it’s the only day the big bad doesn’t come out" you got up from your chair and walked to the register when you noticed Spike.

Everyone became nervous about your statement.

"What big bad?" Buffy asked.

"I don't know. It’s just something people say." Spike approached you. "Welcome to the Magic Box how can I h-"

"Don't bother with him, he doesn't buy anything." Giles interrupted, having come from the back room after he heard your comment.

"Oh. In that case, hi I’m y/n." Your voice was inviting, suspiciously so. Spike didn't trust it but didn't back away.

"I’m the big bad" he responded.

"Interesting. Then it means that you don't come out on Halloween."

Willow snickered.

Spike seemed incredulous. You just met him and you're already making fun of him.

"He's Spike, he just exists." Buffy chimed in.

"Rough." You stated.

An awkward silence followed. No one would say it, but they wanted you gone. It was time for the Scoobie’s nightly meeting, and you weren't invited since you were a regular civilian.

Giles finally got the hint. "Y/n it’s gonna be a slow night. Why don't you head home."

You hesitated but nodded. You packed up your things. "Night guys! It was nice meeting you Mr. Spike Big Bad."

As soon as you leave the chatter picks up. Conversations about the latest big bad and how to take them down takes up the space. But not for Spike. His interest is peaked by y/n. He's used to being mocked but never by someone he just met, much less a human. If you knew who he was would you still try that stunt? He was strung out from a previous altercation and was actively looking for trouble. So, he starts asking questions about you.

"She just came in one day and asked for a job. She doesn't talk much about herself but knows a lot about the occult." Willow offered.

"I bet she's a demon" Xander chimes in.

"How about we slow it down on the demon accusations. She might just be a big nerd like Giles." Buffy mentions.

Giles frowns at Buffy's retorts.

Spike mulls it over. He's decided to get more information out of you. He may be off base, but he feels that you're hiding something. No one comes to Sunnydale just because.

The conversation continues in the background as Spike devices a plan to follow you, maybe find out more about you. He exits The magic Box without a word. He’s hot on your trail watching your every movement until you stop. He doubles back into an alley. He hears you snicker. He’s so irritated by your calm demeanor that he breaks his silent stalking.

“You know, pretty girls shouldn’t be walking alone at night.” He walks up behind you.

“You think I’m pretty?” You turn around, a grin on your face.

He’s definitely annoyed now. “I could kill you if I wanted to.”

“Same.” She retorted and started walking off.

He stands there, flabbergasted. Who do you think you are? Don’t you know who you’re dealing with?

He walks up to you again, walking beside you. Eyeing you as you walk silently.

After awhile you speak up, “It’s weird for you to follow me.”

He’s quiet again. You knew he was following you. Most humans are oblivious. “You’re not afraid to be on your own, huh?”

“Nope. I’ve done it my whole life. Being an orphan does give you that hyper independence vibe.”

He stands in front of you, stopping you in your tracks. He thinks over whether he will show you his vamp face. Maybe scare you a bit. He decides against it. “Just be careful, love.” He walks away.

“If it’s so dangerous, why don’t you walk me home, big bad?” You shout out to him.

He stops, smirks and turns around. He smugly walks up to you and you both resume a quiet but steady pace to your house. Upon arrival you turn to him, “I can’t invite you in. I just met you and I can’t risk all that noise. Thank you for walking me home, though.”

He nods nonchalantly. “Goodnight, then.” He walks away feeling a bit awkward. Like, what just happened? He offered to walk a stranger home and you refused to invite him in? Did you know he was a vampire? Were you just being polite? So many questions.

The next day a similar occurrence happened. He saw you at The Magic Box, heard you talking about the occult soliciting laughter with your odd anecdote, and off you were to your home. He debated whether or not to follow you again. As if his feet had a mind of their own, he trailed behind you once more. He caught up to you and started small talk.

Where did you come from. “North Carolina”

Where were you going. “To find freedom.”

How long were you planning on staying. “’Till the money runs out.”

Who were you in love with. You paused at his bold question. He shrugged, “well, answer the question.” He pressed.

You took a pause. You told him of two previous lovers, both in which love was unrequited. You explained that you lived for the moment and not for men.

Before he could start up with questions you interrupted with your own. You asked the same questions. He hesitated to answer your questions honestly.

“Same questions. Go.”

He sighed. “England. Err.. to…” He paused. He realized he didn’t have the answer to where was he going and how long he was planning on staying at Sunnydale. How to explain that he is a vampire with no real vamp-like behavior? How to admit that he was obsessed with Buffy? So, he opted to skip to the last question. “It doesn’t matter. As for love, I had a nice lady. Crazy bird, she was. I loved her until she left me. Now I just go with whatever fancies me.” He flashes you a grin. You laugh.

“You’re harping on me, but you have no real plan or ambitions.”

That hurt his feelings. He had ambitions, in the past he wanted to kill the slayer. Now he wants to date her. Maybe his priorities got skewed.

As he further mulls over what you said, you both arrive at her home.

“Thank you for walking me home, again. It’s nice to have company.

And so, this became a daily occurrence. Spike would walk you home and ask you about your life, your day, and your connection to the Scoobies. It seemed harmless and he enjoyed how normal you made him feel. With you there was no talk of demons or the end of the world, just a normal human doing human things.

A month has passed, and Spike is still walking you home every day you work at The Magic Box. Today Spike felt bolder in his questions while walking you back home.

“What are we?” Spike side eyed you.

“That’s a bit forward. If you need to know, I thought we were friends. I mean, aren’t you and Buffy a thing?”

He was taken aback by your observation. Of course, he had a thing for Buffy, but it wasn’t reciprocated.

“Let’s change the subject…” Spike trailed off. “Friends, huh? Don’t got many o’ those.”

You smiled. “Then consider yourself lucky to have me.”

He looked away, a smile on his face.

You arrive at your house. “So, when are you inviting me in?” Spike spoke up.

You paused. How to tell him you know… “I’m not ready. Give me time.” You made heavy eye contact. He stepped closer to you, sharing your space. You stood there for what seemed an eternity.

“I’m not gon’ hurt you.” He whispered.

You nodded, “I know.” You leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek. You turned around and entered your house.

He stood there, surprised, and giddy. He smiled, a genuine smile as he walked back to his crypt with a pep in his step.

2 months have passed, and you too have spent a lot of time being close. Boundaries are still in place. Like he’s not allowed in your house, but you too linger at your doorway, in each other’s space. He is still after Buffy, but he brushes his hand against yours, whispers into your ear, and plays with your hair, among other affectionate touches.

3 months have passed, and you and Spike have gotten to know each other well. The Scoobies were weary of your inside jokes and playful glances.

“You know, the sun is setting quicker.” Spike mentioned as a hint that it was time for you two to head out.

You sighed. “Let me finish up this order.” You looked up at him feigning annoyance.

“Don’t want the big bad to get you.” Spike gave you a playful look.

You smiled. “Well, what am I keeping you around for?”

Xander groaned. “Kiss already.” He yelled in frustration which made you and Spike laugh.

As you were getting your bag a demon came crashing in through the entrance of The Magic Box. It snarled and tore down shelves and tables that were in his way. “Give me the slayer” He exclaimed.

“I’m right here, tall and ugly.” Buffy jumped in.

“Not slayer.” He swatted her away. “Real slayer.” He pointed at you. Everyone looked at you confused. You debated on whether to feign innocence or help out. Before you had made up your mind the demon started charging at you. At that point you back flipped into his line of fire and kicked him in the jaw. Everyone stood incredulous.

You proceeded to beat the demon punch after punch. Not holding back, you pulled a sword from a sheath you had strapped on your back under your shirt. Without hesitation you went for the demon’s throat, blood splattering everywhere. You stood covered in blood but triumphant.

Silence followed. You turned around, “Ta-da?”

Buffy stood from her spot and marched up to you. “Who are you, really?”

“Yeah, explain yourself.” Spike yelled from the back.

You sighed, defeated. “Everyone sit down. I’ll explain. Please, just listen and then ask questions. It’s a long story.”

You proceeded to explain that you were close to 1,000 years old, 985 to be exact, and that you were then deemed the slayer in your village. You were raised by your grandfather who was also your watcher. On the night of your 25th birthday, you killed a vampire that was the lover of a very powerful witch in your village. The witch, heartbroken and vengeful, put a curse on you that you would not die until you found peace. That doomed you to roam the Earth in the search of true peace.

The gang was quiet. The atmosphere was heavy. You were ashamed and embarrassed.

“Why did you lie?” Spike spoke up first. His voice was heavy with anger.

“I had to. It’s so difficult to be open about why I still exist. It’s shameful.” You lowered your head.

He didn’t seem satisfied with your answer and left. Your eyes trailed after him. You knew you hurt him. You purposefully created a whole life, and he believed it. You both shared moments, connection, vulnerability and yours was all a rouse.

“I’m confused. How can you not die?” Willow asked.

Her question snapped you back to reality. “Um, uh, Well… If I get mortally wounded, it heals faster. Even if it’s a fatal blow, my body regenerates.”

“What happens if you get decapitated, maimed, or burned alive?” Xander asks, curious.

Everyone looks at him. “What?! You were all thinking it.” Everyone nodded.

You chuckled. “Two words. Deadpool powers.”

Everyone nods. “That makes sense and ew.” Xander responded.

You stand there, still covered in blood answering question after question. Have you searched how to break the curse? Do you know what will give you peace? How many slayers have you met? Do you enjoy being eternal? You answered every question until they were satisfied. The conversation shifted to how 3 slayers could exist.

“It makes sense now how you knew so much about the occult.” Giles chimed in.

You grinned. “I dabble.” You say trying to be funny. A joke that landed flat due to the circumstances.

“I know this is weird. Me existing is weird but know that I didn’t mean harm. I’m just trying to figure out how to end this curse. I can’t be running around divulging my existence to every slayer. Having two slayers makes it easier to say that there is a third but still. You must understand where I’m coming from.”

The gang was quiet, pensive. “I think it’s best that you go. We can talk more about this tomorrow.” Giles stated.

“I know this is stupid, but do I still have a job?”

Giles glares at you. You raise your hands in a defensive stance. You decide it’s best to leave.

You walk home, alone. It’s the first time in the last three months that you were walking home alone. You felt tired and sad. Not only did you potentially lose your connection with the Scoobies, but you also lost who you considered to be your closest friend, Spike.  

Loud thrashing and banging can be heard inside the crypt. Spike is enraged and full of energy. Of course, the one person he wanted to lean on was a fake. Another illusion in his path. He felt like he could confide in her, trust her. She was no more than a liar, a con artist. To hell with her sob story. She hurt him. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t been honest himself, he did the best he could while obscuring the truth to protect her. To protect her! She would pay for making a fool of him. Everyone mocks him for his lack of vampire like behaviors. Everyone puts him down for failing at killing Buffy. But to made out to be a rube for trusting, for caring, that’s where he draws the line. He was vulnerable and he got paid in lies.

[trumpkinhotboy]

Chronic protective brother syndrome

Pairing: big brother!nick nelson x little sister!reader

Type: Request (thank you so much!!)

Warnings: Mention of fainting, having a chronic illness, but nothing too intense

Word count: 1900

Requests: Open! For Heartstopper, twilight wolfpack, chronicles of narnia and harry potter

A/n: honestly… i dont have much to say except that i love writing for requests and that big brother nick makes me weak in the knees. Hope you enjoy angels xxx

*gif is not mine

Summary: The reader has been living with diabetes her whole life. She's grown quite accustomed to it and manages it well with the help of her supportive family. Although sometimes, support can feel a little suffocating...

Through your 14 years of existence, you have grown quite accustomed to life with type 1 diabetes. As you grew up and became more conscious of what it meant to live with a chronic disease, you learned to accept and care for yourself quite well. 

Your mother, Sarah, was a real trooper and never let you down, always carrying you when you felt exhausted and done with your condition, which did happen more often than you care to admit. Luckily, you also had someone else in your corner: your older brother. 

Nick is known to be quite protective. Especially with the people he cares for. However, that aspect of his personality gained a new high when you were born, and your mother explained why you could never do everything just as he did. Of course, you would still be able to do most of them. You would simply need to be a little more careful. 

Sarah remembers very clearly the look in little Nick’s eyes when she explained why you were always sick. You were resting in bed after a substantial flare-up when his eyes welled up with tears. That's when he finally understood that there was something in your own body that would always try to fight and hurt itself. That’s also when he promised himself he would do everything to protect you. Your mum still tells that story with a few tears welling up in her eyes. 

Nick knew you could have a lot of complications from your disease. To avoid them, he always made sure you had everything you needed at all times. You usually didn't mind, seeing how your ADHD sometimes made it a little harder for you to remember to pack your stuff. Plus, the fatigue diabetes often fogged you with did not help in that department. 

The thing is you were now 14 years old, finally starting to make new friends and explore the jungle that is social life in high school. So when your 16-year-old brother comes over, and all your lady friends swoon over him, or worse, when he comes over to baby you, it gets a little irritating. Luckily, Nick was quite stubborn about that stuff and was not about to let you get hurt just because of the image you wanted to project.

That was until you made quite a scene in front of everyone.

You had been feeling particularly irritated and moody that day. So when you saw your brother walk over to you with a backup diabetes kit, which was his creation, you felt anger boil in your blood.

It did not help to hear some nasty year 10 make jokes from a picnic table near your friends and you. "Oh, would you look at that? Diabetes Nelson still needs her big brother to bring her her little drugs. I don't understand how someone like him could be related to her."

It was stupid. It wasn't even a good insult. Plus, the people who kept making comments were not something to be impressed with. Still, you couldn't help the shame from creeping on your cheeks.

So this time, when your big brother came to check on you and offered you your safety pouch, you refused.

"I already have the normal one. I don't need this one."

"I know, but I don't think you've put the new insulin shots in. I brought you the safety one just in case."

The snickers you heard from the people behind had you gritting your teeth. You couldn't understand their exact words, but you knew it wasn't positive. 

"Don't you have anything better to do than watch over me all day?" you hissed. "I'm not stupid Nick."

Your diabetes also made you prone to mood swings, mostly when your blood sugar levels were too high or low. That's why Nick usually did not make a big deal out of these outbursts, but this time felt different. Hurt flashed in his eyes, and briefly, you regretted the words.

"I never said that. I just want to make sure you have everything you need. You know the risks." His tone was soft, his gaze focused on you. He tried as much as he could not to make a big deal out of this, but your reaction had the exact opposite effect. He knew how the fear of being judged could make a person act in such a terrible way. 

"I don't need you to remind me how weak and useless my body is, okay? I'm the one living with diabetes, Nick. Not you." You whispered angrily.

You grabbed your bag and left him planted there without looking back. Nick and you were usually like two peas in a pod, and to leave him there hurt much more than you would care to admit. 

You got back in class, trying to act normal, but after an hour in, you felt queasy and feeble. You had indulged in some sweets some friends offered after your altercation with Nick, brushing off the risk with your ongoing anger. Subtly, you pricked your finger and couldn't help your eyes from growing two sizes when you saw the little numbers your tracker presented. You were in hyperglycemia and urgently needed to get a shot of insulin. Swiftly, you asked to be excused from the class and headed for the bathroom. The walls seemed to shake around you, and your vision kept warping up. Cursing yourself for being this dumb, you opened your bag with shaking hands, searching for your shots.

"Shit."

There was only one thing worse than fighting with Nick, and it was when you realized he had been right. You mumbled under your breath, trying to stay calm and figure out a quick solution because this was becoming urgent, and you needed the care right now. Calling Nick would do no good since he was at Truham anyway. You decided to head back to class to ask for your teacher's help, but once you tried climbing the stairs, a thousand little dots started dancing around. You were able to mutter an 'I feel kinda dizzy' before everything turned black.

You awoke to a commotion. Distorted sounds and everything around you moved too fast to register. Someone was holding your hand while you felt a pinch in your arm. 

"It's okay, it's okay Y/n. You're going to be okay. I'm here."

You knew that voice. You lifted your gaze with an effort and only saw a flash of red hair before darkness swallowed you once more.

This time, when you woke up, everything was silent and peaceful. You were lying in a bed, a hospital bed, with an IV drip set up in your arm. Nick was resting in the chair next to you, his worried eyes set on his phone as he quickly typed.

"Hey," you croaked. 

His head whipped up in surprise when he heard your voice. He immediately dropped his phone to come by your side. His hand flew to your forehead. The coolness of it felt incredibly refreshing as you leaned into the touch.

"Hey, kid," he whispered. He tried putting a smile on his face, but it couldn't hide the worry he was truly feeling.

"So, I'm guessing I fainted? And someone found me? And they panicked ?"

"Panicked is an understatement."

He explained that Imogen found you at the bottom of the stairs. She didn't know whether you had fallen from them or just fainted at the bottom, so she immediately called for help and texted him.

"I ran to Higgs faster than Charlie ever could," he added with a smirk, his joke stealing a chuckle from your chest.

"I'm sorry for causing such a commotion. I should wear a bracelet that says fainting is normal for me so people won't worry."

His gaze hardened at your comment. "Fainting is not normal for you. It's a bad sign, and you know it."

You sheepishly dropped your gaze. Okay, he wasn't ready to make jokes about it yet. Charlie would have laughed, you secretly thought.

"I don't understand why you pulled that crap. I just wanted to help you." 

You lay back in bed with a sigh and covered your eyes with your forearm. You did know Nick only wanted to help, but still. His kind gestures irritated you so much sometimes.

"It's already hard enough to be the sick kid. That was my only thing when I was in middle school. I thought now I could step away from it, that I could be someone else. Be known for other things than my messed up immune system." 

You noticed Nick's expression softened once you uncovered your eyes. 

"And I know you want to help and trust me, I appreciate it. It's just that sometimes it feels like you don't believe in me. Like you don't think I'm capable of doing stuff. Instead of helping me become stronger, you keep worrying me with your horror scenarios."

It was now Nick's turn to look all sheepish and guilty. You might have been right in saying he tended to get a little paranoid when you wanted to try new things. He only thought about protecting you. He never realized the effect it would have on your self-esteem. 

"I'm tired of being afraid. I've looked it up, and there are so many people with diabetes who are doing amazing things. I can stay healthy and still be a badass kid who tries new stuff."

He looked up, his eyes holding so much uncertainty and fear. Though through it all, love was the strongest thing in his gaze. He grabbed your hand once again with a tight smile.

"I hear you, I'm sorry. I never thought it would make you feel like this, or else I wouldn't have done it."

"Nick." You gave him a knowing look.

"Okay, okay. I might have still done it, but only because you're my baby sister, and I want you to be healthy and have a long, long life, okay?"

You nodded while tightening your grip on his hand. 

"I promise I will be less overbearing, and I will support you in whatever new thing you want to try."

"Thanks, Nick, and for school, could you maybe not come and do your big brother number in front of all my friends? I appreciate the gesture, but I'm over dealing with the dumbasses." 

He sighed heavily but still agreed to your request. "About that, just a piece of advice. I've learned that sometimes the thing we are afraid will show our weakness or vulnerability only does when we allow it to. Once you reclaim your power and own it, it all switches around. Anyone who has something to say about it will suddenly disappear, or you won't care what they have to say anymore."

You nodded sheepishly. You honestly didn't care about your diabetes. I mean, it could be a gigantic pain, and you would have to be careful for the rest of your life. But all in all, you were pretty lucky. You had your condition mostly under control when you weren't a sassy dumbass, and you had the best support system someone could wish for. 

"Look at me. You're going to be okay kiddo." Your brother squeezed your hand tighter in a reassuring motion. 

You lifted your head to meet his supportive gaze and smiled in return. Yes, you would be okay.

[petrii-dish]

More Mira Pokémon! (starring guest Isabeau)

And I actually have my essay on why i chose each Pokémon this time. It's under the cut with some closeups. eeee

Okay! Essay time!! Pokédex entries are in red! Here I go!!

Mira's starter is her Ampharos! It spends most of the game as a Flaaffy, evolving into Ampharos when Mira beats the King (and mega-evolving when she beats him in Act 5) 

  Every single Pokédex entry for Ampharos highlights it acting "as a beacon for lost people" (Gold). This mirrors Mira's (ha) role as the Change God's 'chosen', the very existence of which serves to give hope to the people of Vaugarde that they are actually going to be saved from the King. 

Mira understands the need for a (fake) chosen, but can't really accept herself as being worthy of the role. Because of this, her Flaaffy doesn't evolve into Ampharos until she confronts and defeats the King as her role demands of her, in spite of her own feelings on it. 

Also, Dormont has sheep!! And Mareep and Flaaffy match Mira's silhouette (clouds...!) 

Eevee (Sylveon!!) is a Pokémon that I see Mira receiving when she enters the House of Change. I had a lot of ideas about what Pokémon might live in and around the House, or might be seen as symbols of Change, and Eevee is one that I think fits pretty well! (also Castform, Ditto and Vivillion! Maybe Togepi as well?) 

A lot of Sylveon's Pokédex entries balance it between being a soothing ("It sends a soothing aura from its ribbonlike feelers[…]" (X, Omega Ruby)) and empathetic (?) ("[…] this touch enables it to read its Trainer's feelings" (Ultra Moon)) Pokémon, while also being a pretty merciless and efficient attacker ("[…] its piercing moves aim straight for its opponents' weak spots." (Violet)). I think this mirrors Mira's (hehe) in-battle skill set pretty well, as well as the dichotomy (?) (big word? am I using that right?) between being both scissors and paper types.  

(Sylveon also uses it's ribbons to use piercing moves!! It's both scissors and paper! To me!) And. It has little bows on it.) 

Other Pokédex entries talk about "Sylveon vanquishing a dreadful dragon Pokémon" (Shield) "that are many times larger than itself" (Ultra Sun). And I don't know about you. But this reminds me of the King. For (Primal) Dialga reasons, but also because he's pretty dreadful tbh. 

Chingling is here because! Ding-ding! 

I don't really have many supporting Pokédex entries for Chingling. Just look at the little guy. Besides Mira liking things that go ding-ding when she walks ("Each time it hops, it makes a ringing sound[…]" (Pearl)), Chingling's rope also visually matches her own rope / belt.  

I wanted some of Mira's Pokémon to non-fully evolved. Non-fully evolved Pokémon aren’t necessarily young versions of their evolved counterparts, they're fully realised Pokémon with their own personalities and behaviours. Just because there is a capacity for change doesn't mean they need to! And well. The same applies to Mira, of course. 

Escavalier isn't here because I didn't want to draw it again (complicated...). But it's also on the team! Honestly, I added Escavalier because Mira's team so far was too cutesy and I wanted her to pack some real heat. Escavalier's her rapier! She needs a cool sword (lance)!! And no other weapon-like or wielding Pokémon fit the job description. Or had French names.  

(Escavalier's names are all a combination of escargot and cavalier! Mira's surname is literally Chevalier??) 

As a Pokémon, Escavalier isn't too notable for anything other than (being a pain to draw) how it evolved- by stealing Shelmet's hat. Originally I thought that Escavalier would start as a Karrablast that would evolve when the House was attacked by the King, which would need Mira to prepare to defeat him. But. He doesn’t have a Shelmet or an Accelgor. 

But! Escavalier is very brave! And Mira does so many brave things while unmedicated?? And, and, like Sylveon, it has an equal focus on defence and offense. ...Honestly, Escavalier is probably the weakest match for Mira on this team but I'm not going to change my mind. It's my Mira Pokémon team interpretation and I get to drive.

Ponyta's Pokédex entries all talk about how it starts out pretty weak ("Ponyta is very weak at birth. It can barely stand up.[…]" (Ruby / Sapphire)) but quickly grows stronger as it runs about- either with other Ponyta ("[…] As it races around with others of its kind, […]" (Sword)) or after its parent (read: mentor figure. read: euphrasie) ("[…] This Pokémon becomes stronger by stumbling and falling to keep up with its parent" (Ruby / Sapphire)).   

Mira's pre-game journey gives her the strength and allies she needs to confront the King, even as she compares herself to better options that don't exist. She kind of fails to see that she's become "a world-class jumper" saviour (Crystal).  

I chose the Galar Ponyta over the Kanto variant as it's a healer like Mira! ("It's small horn hides a healing power. […] any slight wound you have will be healed" (Sword)) And it's silhouette matches hers a lot better. 

And finally, Plusle! Plusle's here not only because I think Mira needs the support (PLEASE give her back her meds), but because Mira herself is the support (the heart) that glues together the party. Plusle is by design a team-player that performs better with the right allies, both through ability and move-set (I'm very sorry but no-one else has any Pokémon with the Minus ability. Big oversight tbh). And one of the very first things Mira did on her journey was try to get a helping hand with the defenders. 

I decided very early on that Mira needed to have a Pika-clone, and that this Pika-clone could not, in any circumstance, actually be Pikachu (or Pichu). Mira bears the unwelcome mantle of being the Change God's (fake) chosen, the main character, the leader (sorta?) of the saviours. She isn't comfortable fitting into the role but tries to force it anyway.  

(Every region there's a Pokémon that, if sometimes only superficially, resembles series mascot Pikachu (and often acts as an early-game replacement for Pikachu) that are unofficially dubbed Pika-clones. They're kind of made fun of a little bit, but I adore them.) 

I kind of considered trying to give Mira a Mimikyu or Morpeko (other Pika-clones tend to have more biology focused Pokédex entries rather than personality ones? Meaning most of their personality come from depictions in media, like with Dedenne. But that's just a hungry little guy)? But Plusle won out quite handily. And. Well. Some other cringe-fail losers got those two anyway. 

And that's my essay! I'm dedicating it to my 750 loops/act 2 Siffrin who I kept waking up to repeatedly check different dialogues and also the three people who said they might want to read this. Which honestly made my day?? And made me realise that it was a bit silly to be anxious about sharing this! When! The whole point is that it's for fun!!

(By the way, if you enter act 3 without ever reading the secret library book on shields the game just makes up that you did actually read it and continues as normal. And also the memory of fishing maxes out at +80 attack :/ ) 

[yooniesim]

I'm sitting here thinking about a pretty age-old debate on simblr... the race of sims that have black hairstyles, particularly in cc preview pics.

I know it's been talked about repeatedly, but when it comes to cc previews for paid cc I think it's especially worth talking about. Some people say, well, the creator only uses a few different sim models each time, it's not like they're intending to be racist or something. It's just for convenience, because they're busy, they're hustling, they gotta pay their bills. They always use the same sim, so it's fine. But like... isn't that gross to y'all? Someone making money off of black hairstyles, but they can't even be assed to go in cas for 15 mins to make a black sim? Isn't that a prime example of appropriation of black culture for profit? Like the human aspect of us as a person is gone, it's just another part of us being advertised and sold. Black hair makes money, black hair cc is limited, it will sell and nothing else matters. It feels like black hairstyles are some kind of trend with them too, because none of these creators made them before it was possible to profit off of them... back then it was "too hard" just like now it's apparently "too hard" to make a different preview sim.

Also, it's not lost of me that when a creator does make a black sim for their previews, they're as light skinned and white looking as possible. Whether just by skintone, very eurocentric features (like they just gave a white sim slightly darker skin), vitiligo to make most of the skin light, or claiming the sim has albinism. And while some of this I'm sure is just finding that aesthetic more "pretty", I also think this has to do with potential sales. I'm going to be honest... besides engagement by black simblr itself, I've noticed a lot of posts I have get less engagement/reblogs if the sim in question has darker skin and darker hair. It's much more likely to pick up in the mainstream cc finds blogs/YouTube videos etc, if the content is for white sims or the sim has lighter skin and light hair. I don't care about engagement and simply make whatever sim I want to make, and since I do have that variety, it's how I noticed this strange trend. And with the volume of content paywall creators make, I think they noticed this too. Posts with lighter skinned sims get better engagement, and thus, make more money.

Have you ever noticed, even in paywalled cc packs, there will usually be a sort of token effect? One white sim, one ethnically ambiguous sim, one black sim. This is great if you're showing off something that will vary for different skintones- makeup and skin details, for example- but why is it always like this? And why is the variety usually only in previews for cc packs instead of solo items (like hairs)? It feels like it's all to sell better, to appeal to different demographics and say, hey, I didn't forget poc exist! Please pay for my content! It feels disgenuine, and since creators like this rarely engage with the community anymore besides paid content, it's hard to figure out whether they feel this way or not.

Personally, I don't care much what people do in their own games- I might look at them weird for a sec, but I move on, cos it's their issue not mine. But like many other aspects to this community, when it crosses over into paid content, it sparks my interest. It feels like everything, everything, is about maximizing profit now. And for the people that focus on that, that's their prerogative and all, I can't exactly stop them, but. It's just something I observed and wouldn't mind discussing with y'all.

(Note: I don't apply the "profiting off black culture" part to black creators, obviously. Also no hate to any creators that do this stuff. Be reasonable adults, please. I'm just discussing in a constructive criticism type of way.)

[pascaloverx]

Moonlight

Summary: You and Edward Cullen used to have a romantic relationship. But fate seemed not to believe in the possibility of a vampire and a potential she-wolf being together. Years after your separation, you return to Forks. Edward is committed to Bella Swan, and Jacob Black has his own pack. What happens when, upon your return, you begin to transform into a she-wolf and both Edward and Jacob seem eager to revisit the past with you?

Author's Note: The characters in this fanfic do not belong to me but to Stephenie Meyer and the Twilight universe. The story blends events that happened in the Twilight saga movies with invented ones. If you're enjoying the fanfic, please interact. This story will contain inappropriate language, a possible love triangle, scenes of violence, and romance. I would appreciate it if those who enjoy the fanfic could leave a comment and like (kudos). Engagement helps me know that there are still people reading. I hope you enjoy this chapter ❤

EIGHT TEN

NINE

It’s been almost a month since you ended your relationship with Edward. It hasn’t been easy to avoid him as if it doesn’t hurt you. But of course, being surrounded by wolves, especially by your pack, helped a lot. Jacob became extremely overprotective after what happened to you. He even made a deal with the Cullens to see if, by teaming up with the pack, they could find Victoria. So, every time you go out, there’s always a wolf and a vampire on alert for each of your steps. Jacob and Emmett are the ones who spend the most time watching over you. The Cullens feel very guilty about your accident, so they’re always taking care of your safety. You feel like a baby being supervised with every step you take. It’s distressing. And the vampire seems to have vanished off the map.

"Jacob, I appreciate your alpha protective instinct wanting to keep an eye on me all the time, but I’m as much a wolf as you are. I’m alert now, and I don’t think Victoria will come after me, at least not while everyone is watching over me. Go unwind, see Bella, take care of your pack without just focusing on me; a good leader knows when it’s time to concentrate your mind elsewhere." You grumble as you walk alongside Jacob through the forest. You’re feeling suffocated by so much attention.

"I don't want to risk your life. If you want to be alone so badly, you can pretend I'm not here," Jacob says as he gathers some firewood. The wolves, both from Uley's pack and Black's pack, are going to gather to roast marshmallows. Apparently, your accident has brought out a friendlier side of Sam, who, upon learning about the end of your relationship with Edward and that you could have died, decided to be less of a jerk.

"I love you for protecting me. But I need a moment alone; it's been a month since all that mess happened. Every time I move, it feels like someone is behind me, watching. Your father doesn't even go fishing anymore because he doesn't want to leave me alone at your house. You guys go out as a pack and leave me behind. I just want to be able to exist without constant surveillance." You take a good look at Jacob's sulky face, a smile forming on your lips as you see him getting conflicted.

"You're on your own now, then," Jacob says after much reluctance. You quickly walk towards him and wrap your arms around him tightly, feeling the pieces of wood he was holding press against your back.

"I promise I'll survive without your supervision. Not that I don't appreciate you trying to keep me safe," you say, still holding Jacob close. He drops the firewood on the ground and wraps you tightly in his arms. It’s comforting to be so close to him, but your mind is filled with guilt—guilt for being a hypocrite. You ended things with Edward because you felt insecure about his closeness with Bella, yet here you are, wrapped in Jacob’s embrace. When you pull back slightly, your face is close to Jacob's, and as you look into each other's eyes, you can feel that he's thinking the same thing as you… that if you got just a little closer, you'd be kissing.

"We can't do this again. You need to sort things out with Cullen before we mess up our friendship with romantic feelings," Jacob whispers near your face. You nod in agreement, understanding that you need to figure out how you feel before doing anything else.

"I don't know if there is anything to be resolved. Edward loves Bella, that is the only certainty I have." You say, feeling a tightness in your chest as you admit this. The snow begins to fall gently between the trees. Jacob looks at you softly, as if he's carefully considering the best way to respond.

"And you love me. Is it fair to demand that he stop loving her while you continue to love me?" Jacob sounds so rational that it scares him. He has never said anything so frankly before. It makes you think, think about what you want with Edward, with Jacob and especially with yourself. Then you sigh feeling the cold air surround the two of you.

"Since when did you become so wise? The man I love could barely decide whether he wanted to be a leader or not. Jacob Black, congratulations on becoming so intelligent but I am not prepared to face certain truths." You say, picking on Jacob. He smiles and then walks away from you, picking up the pieces of firewood from the ground and walking beside you, down the path to his house.

The rest of the day seems to go by so quickly, you and Jacob avoid bringing up the subject of Edward and Bella. Lea and Seth arrive to make the bonfire with you and Jacob when it is already getting dark. They bring you marshmallows to toast over the fire. Your mind however is on Edward, wondering what he is doing; whether he has gotten back together with Bella, whether he thinks you are a hypocrite or whether he has already given up on you.

"When are you going to give your vampire a chance? He seems almost as desperate to see you as you are to see him," Leah says, approaching you. At this moment, it's just you and her near the fire, waiting for Seth and Jacob to return. You find yourself at a loss for words.

"I don't have a vampire, and I'm not desperate to see him. I also doubt he's desperate to see me; he hasn't approached me once since our argument. But I hardly see how that's any of your business," you say, being rude, perhaps defensive. Leah smiles awkwardly but stays close to you.

"Jacob warned me that if I brought this up, you'd react like this. But I trust you understand that since we're part of the same pack, it's like we're family. So I allow myself to meddle in your life as if you were Seth," Leah says, and you realize that even though the two of you aren't very close, she is part of the same pack as you.

"Sorry for the harsh way I responded. I've been pretending for so long that nothing is happening, and facing someone telling me what I need to hear rather than what I want to hear is tough. Thank you for your honesty. I'll work on resolving this situation," you say, trying to be more friendly, while watching Leah make an expression that seems to say, "It's good that you're listening."

"Don't interpret what I said as me rooting for you to end up with Cullen. Personally, I like how Jacob acts when he's all lovesick over you. But it's better if you sort things out with the cold one before anything else. I know how complicated romantic matters can be," Leah says, and you understand that she knows very well what it's like to have a broken heart.

"When Jacob gets back, tell him I'll be back soon," you whisper as you move towards your car. Leah gives a slight smile, seeming to understand what you're about to do. As you get into the car, you try to gather your thoughts, wondering if you're really ready for what you're about to do. You're going after Edward more confused than ever, without knowing exactly why you're going. Is it stupid? Probably. But your heart tells you that you need to try one more time, that it's worth it.

You arrive at the Cullen's house in a hurry. In your head, the sooner you talk to Edward, the sooner your reconciliation will be. However, before you can go to Edward, you manage to spot Bella and Edward inside the Cullen house. They are talking to each other, their faces extremely close to each other. Edward looks happy, you can see that the two of them are moving towards reconciliation. You take a few steps back towards your car. It's obvious that you should let Edward be with the woman he loves.

"Are you leaving without saying goodbye?" You hear Edward's voice behind you. You're unsure whether to turn to look at him or not.

"It was a mistake to come here, nothing more appropriate than for me to leave without being noticed." You say without turning around, still heading towards your car. Edward then uses his vampire speed and stops you from getting into the car, standing in front of the car door.

"It's been thirty days, twelve hours, and twenty-five minutes since you and I were together. The only mistake here is that you took so long." Edward says as he walks towards her, slowly as if he was afraid. Maybe he's like this because he's afraid you'll do what you always do, leave.

"It seems I took the right amount of time, at least it gave you time to get back together with Bella. Imagine if I had arrived a little earlier, what a mess it would have been." You say sarcastically, looking at looking with some anger at his ex. Edward gives a forced smile before looking at you in disbelief.

"Your temper is our problem. Always jumping to hasty and erroneous conclusions. You know me so little..." He drawls, moving closer. You step back from his approach, replaying the vision of him with Bella in your mind.

"I'm the problem, Bella is the solution. Do the right thing and keep her by your side." You speak insultingly, while looking firmly at Edward.

"I have always preferred problems to solutions. Bella and I are trying to be friends, she was just having dinner with us before going to see her mom. As for the two of us..." Edward smiles mischievously, coming closer, you tremble a little. A feeling of insecurity takes over your body.

"We should try to be just friends. Don't you think?" Your fear of failing in yet another attempt at a relationship with Edward, makes you prefer to simplify your relationship.

"I already have enough friends..." Edward whispers as he looks at you with a gaze that exudes sensuality. And in that moment, even though you knew that his heart hadn't been beating for a long time, that his skin was as cold as a blizzard, you felt a warmth. It's like something burns inside you, every moment the distance between you and Edward decreases. It's like your body is in withdrawal from his icy touch, like your soul needs to belong to him at least one more time.

"This game you're playing is extremely dangerous. Are you sure you can handle the consequences?" You say, looking at him, but focusing mainly on his parted lips. Lips you miss feeling pressed against yours. Edward must have read your mind because he smirks for an instant.

"This is more about you accepting the consequences. Once you stop pretending you don't want to be with me, will you be able to not screw this up?" Edward says as he gently runs his hand through your face. His fingers stop beneath your lips, lightly groping them. You stare at him waiting for the next step, the next move that will be made by him. But he seems to be static. As if he was expecting something too.

"Am I going to ruin this? You're on a date with your ex right now. I don't think you have any right to criticize me," you say with a small laugh, stepping back a little from Edward. "It's a shame I can't kiss you right now," you add, still smiling slightly. And then, before you know it, he's moving towards you, swiftly closing the distance, kissing you abruptly. His lips are slightly dry, and for a moment, the kiss feels rigid, like you're both relearning how to kiss each other. But as soon as you wrap your arms around Edward's neck, pulling him as close as you can, the two of you find your rhythm again.

[noisyghost]

GOD I absolutely agree re:werewolf tropes, especially in romance. I want to read so many werewolf books, but So Many play into pack dynamics/violent werewolf bf/etc etc tropes that it feels nigh impossible to find something that will Hit for me specifically. Do you (or anyone who stumbles upon this) have any recs for werewolf media? Particularly that which is outside of romance as the main plot/genre? (Nothing against romance as a whole, I just don't tend to enjoy it when it's the main focus of a story)

god yeah im the exact same, its why i usually end up gravitating more towards horror werewolves cause at least then i dont normally have to worry about weird alpha boyfriend tropes lol. But that means i dont really have too many media recommendations! I'll put a couple thoughts under the read more, but if anyone has any recs, feel free to reply below 🙏

i don't have any book recommendations bc i havent read a real book in years so most of this will be movies/shows/comics

Being Human (US) is really good in a lot of places (one of my absolute favorite werewolf designs), but the last season really falls into a bunch of those werewolf bullshit tropes so i pretend it doesnt exist lol. i think the good bits outweigh the stupid though! I have also watched the UK version and its. not bad. i just didnt really get into it idk.

The Order 1886 barely feels like a werewolf game even though it is for sure a werewolf game lol. i would recommend just watching a playthru tho cause the gameplay is pretty much nothing but the plot and characters are very cool!!!!

Uhhhh everyone knows van helsing which is an objectively just an ok movie but the werewolves and vampires go so hard i have to like it. Dog Soldiers is also a fun campy flick, and i enjoyed werewolves within but thats more of a mystery than a genuine werewolf movie. Annndddd i did actually like the wolf man 2025 like. its gonna piss a lot of werewolf fans off i think and i know why people dont like it but i think the ideas and themes it presents are really interesting to me specifically! so idk if the individual werewolf enjoyer will like it in the same way i did but i will recommend it if u like werewolves that really lean into the disease/virus aspect of it.

Wilde Life is a webcomic that i really enjoy that is.... werewolf adjacent. I wouldnt really call Cliff a werewolf, more of a shapeshifter, but they sometimes call him a werewolf so its close enough for me to mention it and theres lots of other cool critters and scary bits to make the comic worth recommending.

I dont think Prague Race (webcomic) is officially available anymore but that also had some fun werewolves in it. You can probably find an archive of it if you google the name (the artist's new comic, 'tiger, tiger' is also very good but has nothing to do with werewolves lol)

How to be a werewolf is another webcomic that does do a bunch of the pack dynamic trope but the characters are charming and has some romance but it isn't the primary plot, its more about family than anything. and a female werewolf main character is always a plus!

uhhhh im sure theres more im forgetting these are just some of the ones from the top of my head

...

ok literally this is so niche and i probably shouldnt even bother mentioning it but i have sat on this fic for literally 8 years now and it makes me so sad the author never finished it but. one of the only werewolf fanfics ive ever read that i really clicked with was an overwatch hanzo/cassidy fic called 'spurs don't pair with scare chords' and i need to put it here bc its the platonic ideal of a werewolf fic with a well paced romance that isn't the major intrigue point. its my white whale of a fanfic and it being unfinished haunts me. i wish overwatch was good

[kanohivolitakk]

Ok let me explain why I reacted as I did in my last post, which was indeed regarding the scrapped Toa Inika concepts essentially vindicating why I'm one of the few people who believe love not being canon is a good thing.

Firstly, before anyone gets assumptions let me clarify something. I don't think having romance existing in Bionicle is inherently a bad idea in and of itself. Those who followed me in le olden days know I do ship characters from this stupid series. Romance existing in the world and characters having romantic relationships is something I don't inherently oppose.

That said

I've always believed that romance wouldn't work as a proper element of the story itself and would've made the series worse for a few factors.

For starters, I feel romance kinda, clashes with Bionicles core essence. Bionicle is fundamentally an action adventure story that focuses on mystery, intrigue and discovery in a fantastical setting, with heavy emphasis on worldbuilding and intrigue. Sure, there are other series with similar styles and goals that have romance. But usually they happen to only have part of those elements than all of them. Bionicle is already packed as is, so as such having romance would've just muddied the pack than made actual worthwhile addition to the story

Secondly...romance in these kinds of stories is rarely done well, unless it is one of the core components. In action and fantasy stories aimed at kids and teens romance is rarely (if ever) done well. Usually it's regulated to onedimensional love-interests, will they won't they plots or compelling characters being ruined by forced romance plots. While there are exceptions, most of the time romance in these stories feels forced rather than organic, and as such more of a detriment to the narrative than a benefit. Given how Bionicle was released during the heyday of mediocre forced romances and how the series already isn't that character centric to begin with, I absolutely believe the series would've stumbled with handling romance.

Thirdly, it's just nice to have a story that doesn't have romance at all and instead focuses on fun adventures and interesting mysteries. As I said, romance could've most likely been felt shoehorned or forced in, and thus its nice for Bionicle to exist as is without any unnecessary elements to drag it down. But in addition it's just...really refreshing and freeing. A lot of stories (especially of the time) feel very amatonormative where romance is expected as a natural part of live and thus exists in everything no matter what. As someone who both was annoyed by romance being everywhere no matter what (and is possibly onarospec on some degree) that kind of..refusal to amatonormativity is just...really nice.

Fourthly, it allows platonic relationships to shine. I feel that often (both in real life, fiction and fandom spaces) romantic relatinships are put bigger emphasis on than platonic relationships, whenplatonic relationships are just as valuable if not moreso. Platonic relationships are undervalued and certain traits are seen as inherently romantic. As such its just...nice to see characters have deep bonds and connections without being forced red string of fate either by the narrative, fandom or both.

And lastly...I just kinda prefer shipping in fandom over canonical relationships. Unless the story is focused on romance, has romantic relationship being important for the larger narrative/themes or there's a relationship that is geniunely compelling and fascinating I just prefer when audience can choose which characters they see being "together" rather than the writer "forcing" a relationship onto them. Like, I love Daggerspider but part of that is because I get to choose the ship myself rather than Greg (or anyone else) forcing me to accept it as canon.

So yeah that's why I always believed romance not being canon was ultimately a good thing and why I am somewhat against the fandoms desire to make it canon. If you want to meet me halfway I'm willing to accept romance as an element of the setting or have romantic relationships be subtext/canonicaal couples. But Bionicle should never be focused on romance because its lack of romance is ultimately for it's benefit I feel.

[bat-stuff]

Damian Wayne headcanons: “Totally can make girls swoon as long as he’s not standing next to Damian (we’ll talk about Damian’s body and pretty boy features in another post)”, can we get that post discussing Damian’s pretty boy features and how he most likely gets the most people coming after him thx to his perfect mix of Talia and Bruce’s genes (Talia’s brown skin color, her green cat shaped eyes w/long eyelashes, Bruce’s face (tho I headcanon the older dami gets the more he physically resembles Talia until the resemblance is uncanny, or he grows to become a perfect match of both his parents facial features), hairline (unless dami grows his hair out a little more in the future), the Wayne charm etc.)????????? Also how the others (Collin, Jon, & Billy) attractive looks attract others as well?????

Honestly, I totally forgot that Tumblr existed for a while so thess are way overdue. But here we go.

Also, excuse Damian's for being hella long but I've had a lot of time to think about Damian

Ok I also have a feeling that I haven't mentioned this before ...

All my content for these boys is aged up, which means they aren't a gaggle of 12 year olds. I'm imagining them between the ages of 16 and 18 unless otherwise stated.

DAMIAN WAYNE, JON KENT, COLIN WILKES, AND BILLY BATSON FEATURES HEADCANONS

--------

DAMIAN WAYNE

Damian has green eyes, I know people will argue and say he has blue but his eyes are definitely a dark mossy green.

Though they definitely have the capability of changing color in the sunlight, they light up and turn into lighter shades depending on the lighting and time of day, but personally I think they are a dark mossy green.

I don't want to spend too much time on Damian's eyes but for example, in Gotham they tend to be darker because of the atmosphere, whereas when Damian goes to see Jon in Metropolis, they'll be lighter shades because of the sunlight

He 100% has Talia's eyes, and facial structure. I can see him having more of Bruce's features, but his facial and body structure is closer to Talia.

Strong jawline but softer than Bruce's. Damian looks a bit like Bruce but not as sharp, so to speak. His face is slimmer and more rounded, his eyes are more pointed and are sharper but Bruce's are wider.

Bruce is ruggedly handsome, Damian is flawlessly pretty.

Damian's body structure is closer to Talia's too.

I don't see Damian really being able to pack on muscle mass in the future like Bruce. As Damian gets older his body structure looks a lot like Dick's, he's very well fitted.

He does have nice biceps tho. To the point where when he moves you could feel the muscle flex underneath if you were touching them

(If you haven't experienced this personally with anyone, I highly suggest it. Biceps are hot.)

He doesn't have thick thighs like Jason, but he's still very muscular. Sometimes it's hard to tell unless he's flexing, he's not busting out of his clothes, but he is quite strong.

On to other features, Damian isn't white.

I think we've all established it by now but just to make sure.

His skin is a lot like Talia's, light olive skin. Though, in the summer, if Damian gets even the smallest ounce of light he tans instantly. I'm the winters in Gotham, one might mistake him for white because his skin is lighter but once he's put next to Tim it's easy to see that he's not.

Damian has perfect eyebrows. Nothing else needs to accompany this. His eyebrows are flawless.

Ok, so hair. Another thing I've seen some disagreement on.

I believe Damian's hair is Black, like Bruce. But unlike Bruce it's not coarse and heavy. It's light, wispy and soft. When he was younger at the manor he used to gel it up, but now that he's older he's come to realize that it'll just go wherever he wants and it will be fine.

Damian's voice, which I've kinda already covered, is wide range. He can sound like a little girl or Corpse. He generally leans towards a deeper voice, it vibrates a little so if he's talking while you're touching him in some way you can feel the grumble.

He hums a lot. Not musically, but in response to things. He's taken up a habit of humming into words, like saying "mkay" instead of "okay".

I strongly believe that Damian doesn't laugh, he chuckles. Deep, hearty chuckles that make anyone whose near stop and listen to him laugh. He also snickers and sharply exhales through his nose to make that snorting/snickering sound, I don't know what it's called but I think you can guess what I'm talking about.

Damian doesn't have veiny hands, sorry to disappoint. But his hands are very soft for being a swordsman. His skin is very smooth and he doesn't have many imperfections. No birthmarks because of the Artificial Womb, courtesy of Talia.

Not me going back to his eyes, but he squints a lot. Out of confusion, anger, just looking at something, disgust. His eyes generally take the shape of siren eyes, so it doesn't look unnatural that he gives people sharp looks unintentionally.

His lips are on the thinner side but are still soft. Boy definitely uses chapstick. He doesn't have a big mouth or a little one, he's very well proportioned.

Probably has a plump bottom lip tho

Many know this but he frowns a lot. It's not because he's upset, but it's his thinking face. His eyebrows scrunch together when he's doing this too. If he's thinking about something unpleasant his nose with wrinkle. When Damian's thinking hard he looks very confused and upset.

Nicely shaped abs. He has a long torso

HELLA PRETTY SHOULDERS AND BACK MUSCLES MY GUY

Smells like pine needles and sandalwood. Definitely a rich person scent that's strong but not overpowering.

-----------

BILLY BATSON

Figured I would start with Billy because if we're ranking them, he's the second prettiest.

Personal opinion but you'll see what I mean.

So Billy's eyes are brown. Like a dark, chocolate brown.

Some people might say "Well in the dcau and Young Justice they're blue" but I have a personal belief that they're brown. How many blue eyed superheroes and children of superheroes are there? Too many. They're brown.

In the sun they turn into a dark honey color

DEFINITELY has light freckles across his cheeks, I mean really light tho. You would have to be pretty close to him to see them

Billy's hair is soft, and medium brunette.

it's sort of straight, but kinda wavy

the length of it depends on the season, for instance in the summer he has it cut shorter in the back. But in the winter he lets it grow out a bit more

The skinniest of the bunch but it suits him

He's not SKINNY tho, I mean he's being compared to Superboy, Batman's son, and a Gym Rat Gothamite, cut the little guy some slack

Billy has very slender, lean build. Most likely doesn't have Damian-level muscle but he's still easy on the eyes shirtless

Billy has a a bit of a lopsided smile that sometimes expresses laziness

Teeth smile 100%

He has that sort of soft handsome look

Where Damian is very sharp and defined Billy is smooth

He has softer cheek bones (squishy cheeks) and a defined yet round jawline

Billy has thinner lips

I'm not sure how to describe them honestly

Very calm deep voice, deepest voice of the bunch, adding on to this I imagine that he likes to sing and is the best vocalist in the group

His laugh, contrast to Damian, is boisterous and very open mouthed. He's loud and sometimes it sounds like a cackle, but most of the time Billy has a charming laugh that fills the room

Billy almost smells sugary with a hint of linen. Like warm bed sheets but they were washed next to a bakery.

(He once accidentally stole Mary's Japanese Cherry Blossom lotion and now has this sort of addiction to cherry scented things)

Honestly, Billy smells like a lot of things all the time, so the best description is that he smells very warm and sweet

Boy is part of the super soft hands club

Long. Freaking. Eyelashes.

Like, they might tickle you when you kiss him long

(This isn't a romance headcannon but he would be a great person to kiss, OOOH NEXT POST IDEA)

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

JON KENT

Ok so on to Jonathan

So our boys eyes are a sky blue

An open sky in the country, and where some eyes have grey tones, Jon's don't

Dark, black hair that has a loose curl to it

A lot of times it hangs down in his eyes so he developed a tendency to play with his hair

He has one of those headbands that comb/hold back your hair, and he wears it a lot

Wouldn't wear it around the guys, there's no way Colin wouldn't make a little fun of him for it. Damian honestly wouldn't care and Billy would probably buy one once he sees Jon wear it

He has pretty fair skin, but tans often due to being in the Sun at the farm a lot.

Has tan lines on his wrist and ankles from bracelets, he's that kind of guy

I mentioned in a previous post that Jon isn't really big on sweating so our boy probably always smells very clean

His scent is lemony with a hint of linen.

Not that the other boys don't smell clean, Jon is just less musky

Jon us bulkier than Damian and Billy, but smaller than Colin.

Another member of the super soft hands club, as well as the pretty shoulders club

he has a soft voice, but it also holds a lot of energy. He talks fast

the highest pitched voice of the bunch, and for the longest time was slightly squeaky.

lovely sounding voice, can't sing for shit tho. Hes a bit tone deaf.

has DEFINED dimples, the king of dimples

always has a content look on his face, looks and is incredibly friendly

I have a feeling Jon doesn't have completely straight teeth, but still a beautiful, toothy smile

he isn't a mouth breather but has a habit of staring at people with his mouth open a bit.

kinda like a goldfish

lip biter (In the cute/hot way)

(ok so my best comparison for Jon is Dave Lizewski from Kick-Ass. I feel like they would have similar energy. I feel like he and Jon would sound similar as well.)

Toned abs. He doesn't even try, they just happen

nice arms, not super huge but you can visibly see the muscle

His entire vibe is secretly buff nerd boy

loves his glasses, only takes them off when he suits up

they're the round-ish square ones with the iron rim (Dave Lizewski glasses)

sharp jawline, but has a square face

Pouty, thick lips

Jon has fairly big hands, and skinny fingers.

Slightly veiny hands

Has never had a lick of acne in his life so incredibly clean face

Definitely a pretty boy

----------

COLIN WILKES

Colin is definitely the scraggiliest of the 4

Silly ginger boy

Has straight-ish hair but probably got a perm at some point and it kinda worked for him so he's recently discovered that if he puts stuff in his hair and takes care of it right he has some natural wave

Puppy dog brown eyes that look like melted chocolate

Used to have freckles but they faded as he got older so you only see them if you're extra close

Colin had the widest smile of the group

Never had braces because he couldn't afford it so his teeth are a bit uneven

But they were significantly worse when he was a middle schooler so he's glad they figured themselves out a bit

BIG BOY

THE BIGGEST BOY

This dude has the broadest shoulders of the group, the thickest thighs, the meatiest arms.

Colin is built like a tank

Has the veiniest hands, and they never go away. Just constant veins

Is ALWAYS smirking/smiling.

Has a look on his face that always makes it seem like he'd done something bad and he's proud of it

Obviously he hasn't but it somehow lands him in trouble 9/10 times

Colin is the palest of the group, not just because he roasts like a turkey in the son but because he obviously lives in Gotham, where sunlight doesn't exist

Like Billy, his lips are on the thinner side, but they're NEVER chapped. Loves chapstick, probably would eat it

Colin has a fairly round face, when he was younger he had huge gigantinormous ears, but by 15 he had grown into them

If any of the boys had a glow up it was Colin, he went from Kiddo to Daddy within a summer

Smells like grass and mahogany. Also lysol. Sometimes leather. It depends on what time of day it is.

In the morning, it's lysol and leather because that's when he goes to the gym. But after he showers it's mahogany and like Irish spring. But by the end of the day, for some reason he smells like grass and no one can figure out why

Colin's just kinda strange

His voice is lower than Jon's, but slightly higher than Billy's. (When he's Abuse his voice is much, much deeper)

It's rumbly

Has the best morning voice

When Colin laughs, it's a cackle. He sounds like a hyena

Definitely has toned muscles. The most defined muscles of the group

Has ENORMOUS hands

Rough and calloused from weightlifting but the rest of him is fairly soft

Rougher face because he shaves, puberty hit him HARD

He's not pretty, he's hot