#took me long enough but this is of course for

[prael]

Day 9: Subservience

TripleS Jiwoo x male reader smut

words: 3,980 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

"I've known the owner for years. She's really kind and she always gives me extra," Jiwoo explains as she guides you, hand-in-hand, down the street to the ice-cream shop that she swears is the best in the country. You don't question her, she knows what's good and she knows your tastes. You do struggle to keep up with the strides of her long legs. She's still fuelled by annoyance.

The game against the Eagles was a rough one. There were several fights, some more physical than others, but all were fueled by the rivalry. Jiwoo's game ended when she slammed one of the Eagles' players into the boards. It was a rough hit, enough for the ref to throw her out of the game, and you can't blame her. It was a dirty hit. But Jiwoo had been riled up by a series of fouls that the ref hadn't seen. So she reacted, and the player took advantage.

As soon as you step into the shop, Jiwoo visibly relaxes. A warm smile takes over her features that widens once the owner steps out from the back. "Jiwoo! How have you been, sweetie?" the woman gushes as she rounds the counter.

"I'm well," Jiwoo smiles. "And yourself?"

"Always busy!" the woman chuckles. "The business is doing very well." You see Jiwoo's hand tense as it holds your hand tighter. "What are you having today?"

"The usual, we'll share." Jiwoo orders without asking you.

"And who is this fine young man?"

You open your mouth to speak but Jiwoo is already talking before any sound can leave you. She introduces you—first by name and then as her boyfriend, her best friend. It makes your heart swell to hear her speak so highly about you.

You wait for the ice cream to be done, listening in as Jiwoo makes small talk with the shop owner. She seems happy to hear about the great games Jiwoo is playing and asks if next time she can bring some pictures for the bulletin board above one of the booths. It's cute to see her talk so excitedly about her games and everything she does on the team.

Finally, she asks the two of you to take a seat before promising to be over in just a minute. Jiwoo leads the way and slides into a booth in the corner. You sit down opposite her just as the ice cream and a couple of spoons slide into your view.

"Alright you two, enjoy!" the shop-owner exclaims before leaving you alone again. You both mutter your thanks, taking your spoons.

"Thanks," you say after Jiwoo takes a mouthful. "For bringing me out here." She looks up from her spoon and laughs.

"You haven't even tried it yet, here." She takes a spoonful and reaches out to you, pushing the spoon between your lips.

She is right, of course, the ice cream is good. "Really, really good." She smiles in contentment at the compliment of her choice, reaching over to scoop up a spoonful of another flavour.

"The best," she corrects. "So what do you want to do when we get home?"

"A movie maybe?"

Jiwoo raises a questioning brow at your choice as she spoons up more. She pouts for a second. "I was going to say I could fuck you senseless, but sure, a movie." Her laugh makes you realize she is teasing you and you feel the red creeping into your cheeks. The ice cream shop isn't busy at all, just a couple of regulars, but that doesn't stop you from glancing around in case somebody heard. Jiwoo laughs even harder as the worry shows in your expression.

"We could watch a movie first. Before you... you know."

"Oh, I definitely know." Jiwoo chuckles again, this time softer but the fire is in her eyes now, you've seen this before, felt the touch of her fire.

-

The walk home is peaceful. The sun has just fallen over the sunset leaving a soft glow, the breeze is cool and gentle, and the cars pass slowly. You're the one who is holding her hand now, feeling her body pressed into your arm, leaning onto you as you guide her along the path home, and even without a word spoken, it feels perfect.

Then there's a ring. Jiwoo's phone. She fumbles around for her pocket before pulling it out and sliding the lock screen to the side.

"Yes, this is Jiwoo." You wait in silence, watching her brows furrow. "What the hell? Why?" The look in her eye makes you nervous, you can almost see the steam rising from her ears. She lets go of your hand and stops. You halt with her and listen in. You can hear a voice on the other end of the line but not enough to discern words. Whatever it was, though, it made her mood flip. She ends the call abruptly with a stern 'yeah,' before slipping the phone back into her jacket pocket. Her face has turned to stone.

"What is it?" you ask and place a hand on her shoulder. She turns away from the gesture.

"It was one of the assistant coaches," Jiwoo begins, looking ahead. Her gaze seems lost in the distance, unfocused on whatever was before her but focused on something, something unpleasant. "She's been in touch with the officials, they're suspending me for three games." It's short, sharp, abrupt.

"What?"

"Let's just go home." Jiwoo shrugs off your hand and walks away. You rush after her.

"But that hit was barely—"

"It doesn't matter. Let's just go home."

You leave it at that, following a few paces behind. She doesn't turn to you, doesn't offer her hand, just keeps walking.

As you enter the building lobby you make a point of taking hold of her hand again, as if trying to anchor her in this moment rather than her lost gaze. The elevator doors open and you both step in, her thumb rolls across the back of your hand in a soothing manner.

"I'm fine," she finally says with a deep breath. "I'll be okay."

She throws herself onto the bed as soon as the door closes. Face down, head in a pillow. Her legs dangle over the bed, kicking back and forth. She groans, it's muffled, and she stretches out with a huff.

"Jiwoo?"

Her head tilts to the side to acknowledge you.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

You don't expect much of an answer but you receive one nonetheless, a firm one that makes you gulp. "Yes." She pushes herself upright and stares at you.

"Get naked," her voice is cold and low. Not what you had in mind.

"What?"

"Naked, I need you naked," Jiwoo states again. Her face is stony and her gaze intense. "And on your knees."

Your heart skips a beat. The tone in her voice doesn't suggest this is up for negotiation, not that it matters. She is angry, that much is clear.

"Jiwoo, is this—"

"Did I ask for an opinion?" Her expression stays cold and distant, though there is an unmistakable spark in her eye. She climbs to sit on the edge of the bed and stares through you with that same intensity that is still growing hotter and more dangerous with every second. She crosses one leg over the other, and in those shorts, it is nothing less than a treat.

"Yes, Jiwoo," you nod and start removing your shirt.

"Don't call me Jiwoo right now." You are half-naked and pulling your jeans down to the floor as Jiwoo continues. "From now on it's 'yes miss' and 'right away miss' and 'please let me cum miss.' Do you understand?"

You love it when she gets like this. She's in charge and will not be challenged. You stand in awe for a second as you take in her presence before nodding in response. You drop down onto your knees, naked and exposed.

"Yes miss," you repeat just before shuffling a few steps closer.

She looks down at you, watching intently, then uncrosses her legs to let one foot press to your bare torso. "Good boy," she says. The heel of her foot presses against your chest, and then she kicks out. You're pushed back but regain your composure and return to how you were kneeling before.

"I was so fucking happy earlier!" Her voice is strained as she stands up in front of you. "Now? Now, now, now," she trails off, "Now I just need something to take the fucking edge off."

Her hand snakes around the back of your head to grip your hair. She pulls and it hurts. You look up and are instantly met by her dark expression.

"Do you know how to do something like that?"

You nod in response. She grips at your hair again. There's that pain again.

"I asked if you knew how to do that."

"Yes miss." That earns a smile. It's faint but there. You'll earn more from her before this night is done.

She releases your hair and steps back to sit down again, feet planted firmly on the floor, and her hands on the waist of those short shorts.

"Help me undress." The cold tone is still there and you shuffle forwards again on your knees to obey. Your hands find her thighs first, resting there gently as you lean in, and your lips brush hers with the softest of caress. Your kiss is delicate and gentle, caring even as if you're asking permission to proceed.

"Don't tease me." She huffs and pulls back to glare down at you, and you see the fire there again.

"Sorry, Miss," you offer.

"I told you to help me undress, not play around."

You nod. She is right. This isn't play. Not for you. You reach up for her shorts and unfasten the top button. The zipper goes down quickly and easily. Such long legs and tiny little shorts. Your hands pull at the denim, sliding them down her soft skin and letting your fingertips graze them delicately. You see her underwear next. Pink, cute and such a contrast to the power of its wearer. You throw away the shorts and stare in awe, your mind filling with the thoughts of what comes next.

She sees your expression and wastes no time in calling you out. "You're staring."

"Sorry miss." Your voice is low and quiet.

"It's not yours to gawk at."

"I know, miss."

"So stop staring and undress me, I'm not doing it for you," she snaps. She gestures down and you know exactly what she wants from you now. You know her body well. You know exactly where you should be, where she wants you, and how to please her. And you're not going to leave her disappointed.

With a nod and a 'Yes Miss' you get back to undressing her. The underwear is soft against your fingertips as you hook a few digits around the top of them. She raises an eyebrow, impatiently. Her expression tells you that she is waiting—to have you ravage her. With the fabric held lightly, you pull. Her hips lift a fraction of an inch to help you, allowing you to reveal the pink folds between her thighs.

The pants are discarded somewhere, forgotten as you move in closer, feeling the warmth of her pussy. Jiwoo smirks as you look back up, finding her watching your face and every movement.

"Eat." Her hand pushes your face closer to the apex of her thighs. Her legs rest on your shoulders. Soft thighs hug the sides of your face and the strong muscles tense as she feels you push your lips against her soft cunt. You let your tongue run up the length, taking in her scent, her flavour and her heat. It has you weak in seconds.

Your eyes are half closed as you lap at her juices, and she keeps one hand on your head, her nails raking through your hair. "I needed this so bad." Her words come with a breathy sigh as you suck on her lips. Her head tilts back and she relaxes. Jiwoo moans, softly, sensually, with your head in her grip and your tongue buried inside her pussy.

Her thighs squeeze tighter around your head and her heels dig into your back. "Such a good boy." Her voice is surprisingly tender compared to her actions. "Use your fingers." You immediately oblige. Two fingers sink into her slick wet cunt.

You suck on her clit, rolling your tongue around it as your fingers curl and stretch inside of her. Her sighs and quiet moans start low and light, little hints, little teases. Then the sounds build louder. As your fingers quicken their pace and your tongue beats on her clit, you meet her unspoken demand. Subservience is all she needs.

Jiwoo grips your hair as her moans turn to desperate mewling. "Fuck..." She whines and drags out the word until her hips buck and her thighs tense. In a shivering climax, her voice goes silent and her thighs clench hard. But you're still caught between them. You don't move away, pressing on with kisses and more long sucks until her gasps subside.

"Enough." It's the softest you've heard her this evening, but still, that command is clear and uncompromising. You pull away.

Jiwoo sighs and, while she takes the time to recompose herself, you remain kneeling between her legs in perfect patience.

"Good boy," she comments while her hand is roaming back through your hair. Then she sighs again, leans forward and beckons you to move closer with a simple 'come here.' Jiwoo places a soft peck on your cheek before moving her mouth to your ear. "Stand up and get on the bed."

You do exactly as you're told. Naked and standing, she tugs her shirt over her head. The bra comes next. The toned athletic figure of this woman is enough to make your mouth water, and your throbbing erection twitch, desperate for her to touch. Yet you refrain, knowing, and understanding what this is about. She'll decide when that happens, not you.

As soon as you climb up to sit on the bed Jiwoo moves, too, climbing onto your lap and, once straddling you, making it impossible to not feel the heat of her already wet cunt against your cock. Her lips meet your neck in several rough, hungry kisses and it makes you groan softly, you want more, you need more but you can't have it yet. Not unless she allows it.

"Are you going to behave for me?" she coos, kissing your jaw as she speaks.

"Yes miss."

"Good." The first gentle movement of her hips is torture, the way she ruts against your cock. You're aching for a relief. All you want to do is bury yourself in her right now, feel the tightness as she pulsates around you. "You have to earn that."

Your hands rise of their own accord but you catch them mid-air, waiting for permission to touch, to hold her, to bring her closer. "Please, miss?"

She smiles against your neck, and kisses you again, while the warm wetness of her slick folds pushes down the length of you with slow, tantalizing movements. You moan, louder than you intended and your hips rock up against her, you can't help it. They beg to drive up further, to bury yourself inside her, but you have to wait, wait until she is satisfied.

"What is it? Can't control yourself? Is my pussy making you excited?"

The voice is honey-laced and the heat between her legs, pressed down onto you is torture. This game she plays is nothing less than absolute arousal.

"Yes miss."

"If you can't control yourself..." Her voice trails off as she pulls herself away from you. "Close your eyes."

You nod in obedience, close your eyes as commanded and listen.

A low rumbling meets your ears. A familiar click follows, then a rustle. There are her footsteps next, soft and careful, coming closer to the side of the bed. Jiwoo's breathing is heavy, and so is your own, you still smell the lingering muskiness that lingers in the air. The clink of metal and then the cool sensation of the steel on your wrists causes your eyes to open and stare at the cuffs, binding each of your hands to the bed posts.

"Just in case you don't obey the rules." She smiles and her demeanour is playful, taunting, and seductive. It's her game now and you're just the toy.

"Now, where was I?" Her naked body slides over you. She takes your face in her hands and holds it in place for her mouth to meet yours again.

All you know is the dance of her tongue against yours and the movements of her hands as they run over you. Those long fingers travel from your face, to your jaw, neck and over your collarbone, descending to your chest. Once her hands make it there, she scratches them down along your torso to your stomach. Pain lingers where her nails mark you.

Then the rest of her body begins its motions. Hips roll. Her pussy grinds against you, slick and ready, again and again. Her motions are slow, precise, and calculated. Each kiss and each bite, each scratch of her nails over your body. In turn, your arms pull against the restraints and your cock aches with desire.

This is going to be a long night for you. You're bound, helpless, struggling, desperate. Watching the woman's body undulate above you is maddening. Feeling her on you, feeling her pussy grinding on you is heavenly. Her sharp groans and low moans in your ear make you even more desperate.

Jiwoo shivers, her skin prickles with goosebumps and the muscles in her core tense and relaxes again and again. All you can focus on is the intense and overwhelming feeling of her sex rubbing so eagerly against you. She bites her lip, furrows her brows and leans into her pleasure. Her breaths increase and her movements become erratic.

"I'm going to fuck you until I've had enough," she pants.

This woman can take whatever she wants, whenever she wants. You are no exception.

"Jiwoo..." You can't help it. Her name escapes.

"What did you call me?"

You still. Waiting. Heartbeat in your ears. Worry in your eyes.

Jiwoo shakes her head. She stops rocking her hips and grabs hold of your face, staring at you, almost searching for something as her gaze probes yours. There is a fire in those eyes, like the roaring blaze of a furnace, the blazing sun of a summer day. Fire is a destructive, uncompromising, beautiful, passionate force. The flame of passion burns, you have seen it. The flame consumes as Jiwoo does.

"Now I'm really going to need to punish you. Gonna ride you until it hurts."

"Please," you moan.

She reaches between her thighs to aim your cock towards her pussy and slowly presses down, guiding it through her soft, soaked folds before enveloping you in the absolute hotness and wetness of her cunt. Your eyes roll as she pulls her hips upwards a fraction and then down again, impaling herself, feeling her tighten with her motions.

Slow.

Hard.

She drives her hips down against yours. Your eyes lock again and the flames begin to spill forth. Your legs tremble. Your toes curl. Your back arches, your arms tense and tug against the bonds. The cuffs bite and the bed frame creaks. Each thrust and slam and wet pulse around your rock-hard cock elicits a sound, deep and involuntary, as you try to endure her punishment. Jiwoo knows this, she enjoys it, fucking you over and over, taking her pleasure, she needs this.

Her hips shift suddenly, changing the angle. Everything is better like this, she feels so good, moving, riding, panting. You growl in tortured ecstasy and she seems even more eager. Her grip is so hard on the sides of your body, her nails burying into your skin.

"Ah, right there, yes!"

Jiwoo slams her ass down against your hips and grinds, moving quickly, desperately. And you want her. Fuck, how you want her. But you can't, you're chained to this bed and she owns you now.

"Jiwoo, please!" You have no idea what you're begging for.

A hand reaches up and grasps the bars of the bed frame. Her face comes close. Mouth near your ear. Heavy breaths. Teeth on your jaw.

She releases the bar. The hand meets your face, smacking it. Hard. Pain explodes and your mind spins in agony and lust. Your hips drive up. You cum. Unprepared and powerful. An orgasm hits you so hard that you barely remember the words slipping past your lips—words of release, words of lust. Cum erupts from your dick, throbbing wildly into her. You're saying her name over and over. You're thankful.

You'd be a fool to think she would stop.

No.

In no way is Jiwoo finished with you, not yet. She keeps going, knowing what you can take. The whimpers of your sore cock within the walls of her hot, tight, wet cunt go ignored.

It doesn't matter if your cock is starting to go limp or your nerves are singing in pain, she keeps using you. Her hips bounce on yours, her breath and moans heavy and rough. Her body undulates in lust. Fuck, you're amazed by her beauty, her fire, her passion and her strength, even when you can no longer provide.

Then Jiwoo tosses her head back. Her back arches and tenses. Her skin prickles and her abs tighten. Through the stinging pain, you take pleasure in watching, watching her lose herself. Her sounds are guttural and grow louder as her fingers stroke her engorged clit in hurried, rough circles. Then it happens. She clenches and then nothing, there's no longer the need to move, to breathe or to live, only her orgasm courses through her, wave after wave as her screams and moans mix, you can't distinguish one from the other.

And when finally, the blissful agony has passed, her body collapses. Overheated skin rests against yours, slick with perspiration. For what feels like several minutes there are no words spoken. Nothing but rapid breaths and beating hearts. She doesn't let you slip out of her, not yet, she just lays upon you. Bodies and minds melt together.

Then there comes a whisper. A single word. While your cum begins to leak from her exhausted cunt. "Again."

You choke on your words, holding back your protest. She slowly rocks her hips, spurring your spent cock forcefully back to life and it's all you can do to obey. Hands bound and no choice left, you're forced to let her ride you to her heart's content. After all, everything she does is on her terms.

She keeps her movements slow, languid, barely moving above you. They're not as desperate. Jiwoo can see the way you grimace and takes twisted pleasure in watching the range of pained expressions as she teases. Maybe she will draw it out for another hour, maybe two, until finally she's finished with you, but you can never be certain, not until it ends.

She feels the way your body reacts. Through the oversensitivity of your soft cock re-awakening and regains stiffness as her wet cunt kneads up and down on it. Then Jiwoo sighs, low and heavy and her movements quicken. You know where this leads—more relentless fucking from her, more building up to another screaming orgasm, you tense in anticipation of the same torturous cycle all over again, ready for her to leave you sore and exhausted, only able to simply quiver and convulse under the continuing onslaught of her pleasure.

"Good boy."

[the-modern-typewriter]

hi!! i love your work so much :) could i request something where the protagonist starts to fall in love with their rival (who the protagonist 100% loathed before because they were a total asshole) only to find out that their rival has been possessed the entire time they were falling for them? and then they confront their rival (who’s still possessed) about it? thank you so much!

"Ah," their rival - no, the demon - said, at the sight of them. "What gave it away?"

"You're not them."

"And small mercies for that, am I right?"

"You can't keep possessing them. It's - are they in there? Still?"

The demon's head tilted a fraction.

The thought that their rival might be inside the demon still, unable to move or speak or make themselves known in any way, was a terrible one. The protagonist had kissed those lips. Had their rival been inside the whole time, disgusted and screaming?

It felt like a violation. They felt themselves a violating ting.

"Are they in there?" the protagonist demanded. Their hands clenched.

"Yes," the demon said. "That is how possession works."

The protagonist swallowed. Bile burned down their throat. "You have to get out of them. You can't - you need to leave."

"Are you going to try and exorcise me?"

"If I have to!"

"You don't like them," the demon said. "They didn't like you."

The demon moved closer, and even with the gig up, the way they crossed the room was a flawless imitation. The protagonist couldn't see the stitches, the points where their rival became the demon, except in the simple fact that the demon was better.

"I like you," the demon said. "And I know you like me, despite your every expectation, despite the stench of this body's history with you. You don't want them back. Do you?"

"It's not your body."

"I am the one caring for it and using it."

"But it's not -" The protagonist floundered, and their fists curled ever tighter, nails biting into their palms hard enough to draw blood.

The demon's gaze flicked down. They took the protagonist's wrists, oh so gently, drawing them up to kiss the protagonist's knuckles, before they carefully but relentlessly smoothed out the protagonist's fingers.

The protagonist closed their eyes. The fury that had driven them to the room still lingered, yet with a mere touch the floodgates opened. Hurt. Horror. Sorrow. Betrayal. Disgust. The most dreadful longing because of course they wanted to keep the demon in front of them, of course they did.

"It's not right," the protagonist said, barely above a whisper.

"There are many shades of right and not right in this world of yours. Was this body a right thing previously, despite its tenant being what can only be described as a total asshole?"

"Being an asshole doesn't mean they deserve to spend the rest of their life stuck in the prison of you, screaming."

"Would it make you feel better if I told you that they're not screaming?"

"Would it be true if they did? What would be the alternative? Because they don't-" The protagonist focused their attention on their entwined hands, the soft and intimate brush of the demon's fingers over their skin. "They don't want me. They would never want this."

"Then they are a fool, because you are the most lovely thing on this planet."

"Don't."

A dozen new questions ripped through them. Did the demon truly care for them, or were they simply doing what they needed to do to keep their new body? Was it a trick? A manipulation?

The demon's hand shifted up to cup, to cradle, the protagonist's jaw.

"They are not screaming," the demon said, and if it was a lie, then it was a beautiful one. "They are sleeping."

"Sleeping?"

"Tucked away in a quiet corner of me," the demon said, "where they can't hurt you or anyone else. Safe. Peaceful."

That did not sound like demonic possession. It was their rival who'd always worked more closely with demons - the protagonist's specialty was ghosts - but everything they'd ever heard about demons suggested that they were nightmarish creatures. Bound by deals, but ever tricksters, out for their own again. Sometimes cruel and always amoral.

Possession was not a nap. It was not a mercy. The demon was definitely, absolutely, lying.

The demon leaned in to kiss their forehead. When the protagonist tensed but did not recoil, they kissed the protagonist's lips.

"Hell is a terrible place, my love," the demon murmured. "Don't send me back there. Don't send me away from you. Would you truly kill me to get them back? Is that what I deserve?"

"You're a parasite."

The demon's thumbs stroked the protagonist's cheeks. "I'm still the same as I've been all these months. The demon who loves you, despite everything. The demon you love. I'm better than they were, you know I am. You've told me."

"Yes."

"Nothing has to change," the demon said. "There is no screaming. There is only us. It can be only us. Nothing has changed."

Nothing had changed.

But everything had.

The protagonist kissed their demon, heart pounding, and planned their goodbye.

[ask-paradox-and-friends]

*the joton had to stop and turn to the king in front of him*

"Run that by me again?"

*the king repeated his request it was clear he came to him as the gaint had married a shape shifting dragon the king must have thought he'd make the armour of course the gaint had 4 children with his beloved. Let me tell you. Wife get hungry or uh...needy he ain't making no armour that stops her. Or her desire. [He's happy he could walk.]*

"Okay. Fine. But you are aware of what I'd have to do?"

*the king tilted his head as the gaint pointed to a large painting on the ceiling and told a tale.*

"Long ago there was a dragon we would call 'The Jeweled One' he was near undefeatable but was defeated by a brave bowman. Correct?"

*the king requested that or maybe some of his son's dark blue scales as he was going to the mountains and blue dragons were immune to the cold.*

"Not. The lesson. See that dragon was immune to most weapons because he was sleeping in a literal mountain's worth of treasure and that then melted into and became one with his scales making him near unkillable but making him jewel and gold colored. So unless you want me to melt enough jewels and gold into some dragon scales to buy this whole town you'd best reconsider what you're asking me"

*the king took a second to think and then looked at his knights then nodded.*

"How much for an armies worth of gear? We're hunting some mountain dragons tonight boys!"

*...God this king's foolishness is going to be the end of him*

You are a blacksmith, renowned not for your weapons, but for your armor and shields. One day, the King and his Royal Guards step foot into your workshop. He hands you a bag full of golden coins and gives you only one command. “Make me a shield that not a Dragon’s claws nor breath could pierce.”

[bunni-v1]

Aventurine NSFW Headcannons

🍓This took me so long to get done, and I'm not 100% satisfied, but I wanted to get these out. There's so much I left unsaid, and I feel like if I kept going it would never stop. So enjoy the very basics of what I feel Aventurine is like in bed. Smaller posts are coming in the future so I can take time to work on the genshin stuff I have coming, alongside requests I plan on doing a full fic for <3

Tagging: @the-original-skipps (mwah mwah, just for you pookie)

Tw: Mentions of past sexual assault; Aventurine has unhealthy views of sex; Aventurine's past; NSFW; Pretty vanilla ngl; grammar errors

Info: Aventurine x Reader; Angst; Fluff

Word Count: 2.5k

MDNI

-Aventurine and sex do not mix well – at least, not at the start. 

-Much like love, he has a very jaded view of sexual intimacy. He was (heavily implied to have been) sexually assaulted by many different unsavory types when he was younger. His body wasn’t his own then, and the sex was brutal and unkind – something he hated.

-As he grew, both in stature and into his title of Aventurine of Strategems, his hatred of sex turned into something different. It was still hatred, he hated the act more than anything in the world most times, but he realized his body was good for something.

-Aventurine was an attractive man, despite his eyes being a less than savory feature to most people. His body was lean and lithe, his clothes and hair perfectly styled and trendy, not to mention the air of mystery he had drew people in like moths to flame. 

-All of it was crafted by his own two hands, of course. He was attractive because he wanted – no, needed to be. So, he made sure he was, of course, no one would do business with him otherwise.

-Pretty as a peacock, you could hardly tell he was once a slave or a dirty Avgin boy.

-He’s pleasantly surprised to find that the body he so hated being born into was a good business tool when he needed it to be.

-People really will do anything to get off, and as much as it disgusted him to do such depraved things, he would do whatever he had to to get what he wanted.

-He’d scrub his skin raw in the shower afterward, trying desperately to get the smell of sex off him. Hoping that if he scratches hard enough the ugly purple bruises will wash away with soap and water. They never do, and they leave him feeling vile until they fade.

-Regardless men, women, monsters – he really didn’t care what he was fucking so long as it got him what he was looking for.

-That’s what sex is to Aventurine, a transaction. He scoffs at the idea of it being anything more than that. Sex was rough and sweaty and all kinds of disgusting, how could anyone derive pleasure from that? You fuck, you cum, you say goodbye. Simple. As. That.

-Ah, but, then again you come along and you just love challenging his worldview don’t you? With your pretty little eyes and your sweet, comforting words. You always make him question himself. It would be annoying if he didn’t love you so damn much.

-Your first time with him is… incredibly unpleasant. It’s not as though he doesn’t account for you or your wants, but there’s a disconnect. He’s too… pliant and yet all too controlling. First times are rarely good, but this felt alien. Like the person you were with was not your beloved Kakavasha, but some strange man taking his place for the night.

-He’s doing things he thinks you want, he’s saying sweet words he’d whispered to hundreds of other partners, it’s all that he thinks you need, what he’s decided in his head that you’d like, rather than something that comes from knowing you.

-He doesn’t ask, he just gives and takes and then it’s over. It’s unfulfilling and empty, leaving you with a dull ache in your chest.

-He doesn’t even offer you or himself aftercare, and you find him scrubbing his skin red in the shower afterward like he was trying to rid himself of any trace of you.

-It makes you feel terrible. Like you’re some whore he’s picked up off the streets and not his long-term partner with whom he’s shared some of the darkest parts of himself.

-You cry into those expensive satin sheets, ruining them with your sniffling. It’s quite the sight for Aventurine to walk back into.

-He expected you to be asleep, or at least resting in some capacity, but crying? His heart sinks as he rushes to your side, then somehow falls further when you tug yourself away from him.

-He’s perceptive enough to realize that he had been the one to put you in such a state, but he didn’t really understand why.

-When he’s able to calm you enough to get you to talk to him, you’re able to explain that you felt so disregarded. There was no connection or love or care from him, did he not feel you were worthy of sharing that in moments of intimacy?

-That makes him sick. Never in a million years would he want to make you feel as though he does not love you, despite previous behaviors. You were his whole world, part of the reason he continued to exist. How could he ever make you feel unworthy of him?

-He nearly spirals there, but your tears are enough to remind him that he is not the one who needs love and reassurance. So, always eager to learn and grow with you, he asks you what you believe sex should be like… and it’s quite different from what he understands.

-You describe it like an extension of yourself. A means of intimacy and trust a level deeper than words and affection can get you. You are vulnerable during sex, you are at your weakest and you are sharing that with the person you love. It’s the most intimate thing you could do with a person, and while it can be fun and it can simply be because it feels good, it can also be because you love the other person so deeply you have no other way to express it.

-Aventurine finds the definition to be rather naive, but you had always been a bleeding heart. (Which he, regardless of if Kakavasha or Aventurine was leading charge, would give anything to protect). Yet… Kakavasha likes it. Kakavasha wants to do that with you, he wants to show you how much he loves you, he wants to hold you even closer and share such sweet nothings with you.

-He tries to toss it out initially because if he thought about it like that he would have to confront himself. Look that trauma in the eyes and acknowledge that, once again, you’d proven him wrong in a way he was annoyingly not expecting.

-But as the days go by and you slowly begin to become physical with him again, he wonders fondly how it would feel. Taking his time with you, he means.

-He couldn’t help but wonder how nice it would be to really feel your skin under his fingers. To kiss every inch of you, to hear you sigh his name like he crafted the heavens with his own two hands. Ah, Kakavasha won again, it seems.

-So he goes to you, like an apologetic puppy, and he apologizes for how terrible he was. How he reflected and regrets it, and he wants to try again and let you take the lead this time. 

-Despite everything, you say yes, and you allow him this second chance to redefine his worldview yet again.

-Aeons it’s life-changing sex. 

-Slow, careful, and all kinds of intimate. He’s still on top because he could not trust even you to be on top. He needed that control. But he listens to what you need, and he finds he’s very good at servicing you. Just as good as he is at spoiling you with his riches.

-You guide him to kiss you deeply, tongues tangling in a tango to a tempo only the two of you could enjoy. You show him how to leave love bites that make his spine tingle. How different parts of your body make you feel different kinds of pleasure. He gets to feel your skin beneath his fingertips, taste your very being on his tongue, and swallow the angelic cries of his name.

-It’s a kind of intimacy and affection he’d never been afforded in his life. A vulnerability he hadn’t expected himself to enjoy, and yet as he sobs into your shoulder at his release, he finds himself wanting more.

-It becomes a problem, really. One taste of it and you have both your sweet Kakavasha and the hardened businessman Aventurine absolutely addicted. In the privacy of his condo, he can lust after you all he wants. You would never deny him the pleasure of freedom, though you would tell him no after the third night in a row for your aching hips. (He will draw you a bath and book you an appointment at the finest spa he can get you into for the next day.)

-In his office, or during a meeting, or talking to the Doctor, however… that’s a problem. He wasn’t supposed to like it that much, but that intimacy had him aching through his expensive slacks. 

-He thinks about it all the time, and he’s taken to locking his office doors and keeping the blinds shut airtight for more than half the day. He hopes no one notices how many bathroom breaks he takes during meetings. He tries his best to forget the boner he popped in front of the esteemed doctor talking about finances.

-You literally have him addicted to being in love with you, it’s quite the conundrum you’ve found yourselves in… but, would you really ever want to change that? He’s very good in bed after all, so it can’t be that bad.

-Aventurine is a switch-leaning top (so sorry Aventio shippers), and I say this only because he does not like relinquishing control. Especially when he’s in such a vulnerable state, especially with his past traumas, he would rather be in charge than trust you and have you hurt him.

-He softens up significantly as time goes on, and he is more willing to allow you to service him how you please, but he never really gives up his control. There’s always a reminder that he has the say-so in what does or does not go.

-That being said he is very giving, without having to be asked he will happily do whatever you need of him. It’s just in his nature to service, those pretty little moans are all the payment he needs.

-I won’t lie and say he isn’t a tease, though. He’s incorrigible, actually. He loves to tease you, be it with his words or his actions, he loves getting you squirming beneath him.

-He’ll mumble against your throat how needy you are for him, how you’re already so worked up and he hasn’t even gotten past your clothes, how cute you are when you’re so needy for him. His fingers will graze you with such feather-light touch you’ll whine at him, and he always coos at you like a needy little thing – as if he isn’t the one tormenting you.

-He’s a fan of edging, which just comes with the territory too. He spends hours of his time building you up to your orgasm, crooking his fingers and swirling his tongue so you’re right there, and then he’ll pull away leaving you crying for more.

-It’s all worth it when he does let you cum, though. The orgasm shaking the very foundation of you, sticky fluids staining yet another pair of satin sheets. 

-That’s not even mentioning his dick, which he is just as talented with. It’s slim, the same shade as the rest of him, with an upward curve that rubs against your g-spot so very well without him having to try.

-It fits so snugly inside, and if you watch closely you can see the effect you have on him as his perfect poker face cracks just a little. He loves to feel you from the inside, it may be one of his favorite things in the world.

-You are warm and squishy and so very accepting of him, conforming to the size and shape of his member like you were made to do so. Like you were made for him and him alone, it’s a deeply romantic thought that he would scoff at if he were in a less hazy mindset.

-He’s rarely rough with you, preferring to show you how much he loves you more softly, though he can be rough upon request.

-Sometimes if you get him jealous enough he’ll be rough on his own accord, but never uncaring or unloving. Even when he has you face down, ass up he makes you feel like the most precious gemstone in the entire world.

-He likes sex slow and long, preferring if it is dragged out across multiple sessions with sweet nothings and gentle care between the breaks. 

-However, he rarely has the free time for such things, and as such he gets very good at making the most of the time that he does have.

-Because of his high sex drive, quickies are common, but they are no less fulfilling than the long sessions he enjoys having. 

-He’s adept at getting you to cum in under five minutes with his fingers, he can do it in two with his tongue thrown in, and that’s usually fast enough for him to quickly get off and get back to what he needs to do.

-Unfortunately, he isn’t the kinkiest guy. He doesn’t like tying up or being tied up, he’s not a fan of power play, roleplaying seems to turn him off (again, not a fan of power play, which a lot of scenarios include this), no hitting or degrading, and pretty much anything that could remotely involve hurting either of you is a no from him.

-He thinks for a while he’s fine with it, and he is willing to try anything once, but it only takes him one time to realize he does not like physical or mental pain. It’s not sexy, it’s traumatizing and he won’t be convinced to try it.

-He does, however, really enjoy you wearing lingerie. Lacy ones dotted with expensive stones are his favorites. Frequently you’ll find a set sent to you in pretty packaging with a little note telling you to ‘enjoy your present.’ Meaning, he wants a picture of you in it ASAP.

-Also a fan of seeing you in his clothes. If he spots you lounging about in his shirt after a long day of work, he’ll be all over you like a helpless puppy.

-Cockwarming you when he works from home is a favorite of his, liking the way you wiggle and squirm as he combs over documents. His poker face really is something impressive, you have no clue how he’s re-read the same sentence ten times as you clench around him again.

-Office sex is unlikely, purely because he doesn’t like you being anywhere near IPC headquarters if he can help it. But if you do stop by for some reason, the likelihood of him bending you over the desk and fucking you raw is about 99%. He does miss you a lot during the day, after all, you can’t shame him for indulging in his favorite treat after so long without it.

-He just truly, deeply loves you. Once he begins to have a healthy relationship with sex and associate it with you rather than the horrors of his past, it’s nothing but loving and delightful. He takes the whole idea that it is an extension of his admiration for you very literally, and showers you in his affections through sex.

[yu-huuuu]

𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯?| 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘴!reader| chapter: 01, (you are here)02, 03,

[🌸] phew-- you guys give me so much love in the last part, thanks <3 , maybe you don't know but you always give me a lot of energy to continue, thank you, I love you.

Summary: Perhaps the most important question is not; "How did you end up in this place?". it is; will you be able to finish the unfinished business that your self from this world left pending?.

...

..

.

The man took another sip of the steaming tea that resided in his hands, "I searched for you like crazy as soon as I first received your call."

You straightened up; however, you did not speak despite your desire to do so. Laura was sitting next to you.

When the man suddenly appeared at the door, the first thing he said was to know why you were in this place, and of course you were surprised by his words.

He had politely asked to speak to you, which you reluctantly agreed to. Laura, on the other hand, had offered to make some tea for the three of you to drink while you talked.

This man's appearance was so strange and unkempt, yet so... familiar, you vaguely wondered where you had seen him before.

"This is probably too sudden for you", he said, without showing any sign of discomfort at your lack of response. He put the small china cup down on the living room table, then pointed at your new old friend, "Does she have to be here?"

You knitted your eyebrows at her unappreciated words. You opened your mouth to reply before he interrupted, "No, forget it. I just remembered what happened last time I asked you that".

You were speechless; what did he mean by 'last time'...?

"Sorry, did we know each other before?", you asked, completely confused. "You speak as if we have known each other for a long time..."

The man frowned at your words: "Oh, right, you're not her".

"Her?" you murmured. You were so confused; did he think you were someone else or...?

He sighed while frowning a bit. His action and expressions were unexpected for you, but to be honest, it was more like he was mentally preparing himself for what he was going to say next: "How much do you know about other dimensions?".

"I...", what did you know? Only what was necessary, that was for sure. I mean, there was never a question like that on a math or physics test in high school. Goodness, it wasn't even a regular topic of conversation.

The man spoke again, not letting you finish your thoughts he murmured your name, "That's your name, right? I guess your last name is not 'Wayne', that would be too much of a coincidence'.

Wayne? Like the last name of that fictional character from the comics? You were going to ask him what he meant when the realization of what he said first hit you, you hadn't even told him your name yet, "How...?"

"So even names don't change in other dimensions," he said to himself without looking at your face. Then the man snorted; it sounded like an almost graceless muffled laugh. When he calmed down, he looked into your eyes. His look was serious— too serious, a little chill ran down your spine from the intensity of his look. "You are in another dimension... one where you died."

"What?" He was joking, right?

The man sighed, almost as if he were preparing himself for what he was about to say, "You were Bruce Wayne's adopted daughter".

As soon as the man finished speaking, you had enough. "Is this a joke!? Do you think it's funny that—?", Laura's warm hand on yours stopped you in the middle of your tirade. You turned to see her confused, only to see her surprised? She looked as if she had realized something.

Why did Laura see you that way? You could feel that your head was about to explode from everything that was happening. This was all too much; it couldn't be real. It was just impossible. This had to be a very well-crafted joke.

The man called out to you once more. "I didn't introduce myself, right?", he sighed in amusement and then raised his hand for you to shake in introduction mode, "You from this dimension probably would be scolding me for my bad manners. I'm John Constantine".

...

You saw the man's back walking away, his hands inside his coat. When he was a good distance away, he turned to you, "If you need anything, don't hesitate to contact me".

You squeezed the special card he had given you while you nodded vigorously, and then watched with complete surprise how what you assumed was a portal opened and then disappeared with John inside. None of this felt real, you were still taking in what happened an hour ago.

'I'm in another dimension', you thought as you, still very nervous, looked at the news magazine in which on the front page was reported about how the "justice league" managed to successfully catch the "injustice league" who threatened to destroy the entire city of Manhattan.

You knelt down, moving and reviewing different magazines from earlier dates that had different characters as protagonists, some better known than others. There was one of the "teen titans", a magazine that perfectly framed "Superman" flying through the sky to catch a plane with more than two hundred passengers on board that was going down.

You rummaged and moved more magazines until you got to the oldest news. One page featured Wonder Woman in particular as the protagonist of a march for Women's Day. Another page featured Flash, who was named the fastest human being alive. Even one of Aquaman gave an interview on how he managed to clean up the oceans by ninety percent.

There were some from Gotham that you were afraid to see for some reason. 'Is what he told me true?'

You sighed, tired; all this was giving you a migraine. 'Of all the possible things that could have happened to me, it had to be the worst...'

...

A sudden knock on the door startled you.

'Is it John?', was what you thought at first. It had been a few days since you last saw John, and the talk you had with him still weighed heavily on your mind.

.

.

.

"I suggest you come with me", he tried to convince you, but he stopped when he saw your distrustful look, "or maybe I could take you to Bruce", he retracted as he raised his hands a little.

"Why?" you inquired uneasily.

"You'll be safer this way", he explained as he got up from the chair. It didn't take long for you to copy his action, "Are you coming?".

Should you really do it? Was it really safe to go with him? If everything he told you was true, then the world waiting for you outside wasn't safe at all, and you knew it. You weren't foolish at all; you were sure that even John couldn't protect you at all times.

What would happen to Laura? Would she be okay?

John, seeing your indecisive state, hums, "Though- this place is good". He spoke, taking his eyes off of you.

You looked up from the fixed point that you were looking at without realizing it, "huh?"

He just nodded to himself and then looked at you, "I mean, this place isn't safe, it's a small town, but no one would think of looking for anything of value in this place", he explained as he gave you a small but warm smile, albeit something very inside you told you that smile was not really directed at you.

.

.

.

The second wave of knocks on the door took you out of your memories. You were about to get up to open the door when Laura suddenly appeared, waving you to stay in your place, which you obeyed.

"Are you sure that she is here?", it was a woman's voice, getting up from the soft chair, you headed towards the door.

You heard John's sudden voice, though it sounded like he was trying to defend himself, perhaps from some assumption, "Trust me, Zatanna is this house, I'm absolutely sure".

"It's better to be careful after last time-", the mockery in her voice trailed off as you stood in front of the door. She was a young woman, her eyes were a pretty blue, she had beautiful black hair that cascaded down her back; and next to her was John.

"See, what did I tell you?" John exclaimed triumphantly, ignoring the stunned woman next to him. "Hey , how's it going-?", the question hung in the air as the woman took a step towards you.

Laura, who was still standing in the same place, gave the black-haired woman enough space to pass. The soft touch of the female's hands on your face made you pay all your attention to her. Her eyes looked sad as she stared into yours, "You're not the same persona I used to know, are you?"

"I...", it wasn't even necessary for you to say anything else, she understood what you meant.

"I see, I understand. My name is Zatanna Zatara," she explained as she slowly moved her hands away from you, almost as if she didn't want to leave your person.

You felt bad for the woman in front of you.

...

:> Would you give me some love by squishing the heart below? Also tell me your thoughts, you can do it in this post or write it in my inbox!

[kirislovelygf]

drunk new year’s eve w/sevika !!

contents: just a lil blurb i thought of since it’s new years and i’m bored

*˚⁺‧͙ 𖦹

it’s new year’s eve in zaun, an unnecessary but convenient reason to get black out drunk with your friends and loved ones.

your friends all went out together but you wanted to spend the evening with sevika. you both made dinner together before drinking.

it was nearing midnight and you both waited in your living room. after the first couple shots, it was hard to keep track of how many followed.

sevika couldn’t handle her alcohol for a good while before even getting tipsy but you were a different story.

just a couple shots in and you were slurring compliments and sweet praises while sitting pretty in sevika’s lap.

“i think you look good all the time.” you said to her.

“really?”

“yeah!”

“i feel old.” she said to you, a bit tipsy herself.

“whaat? that’s crazy, you could run a marathon.” you chuckled.

what sevika loved most about you being drunk is how you flirted with her as if you haven’t been dating two years now.

“you’re sweet.” she said to you.

“so is this drink. i’m getting another one.” you said, swinging your legs over her one thigh to stumble into the kitchen.

“you know what? hell yeah.” sevika muttered following you.

you picked up one of the plenty bottles on the countertop and spilled a bit pouring some into your glass.

sevika came up behind you and gently took the bottle.

“here.. if i let you do it, you’re gonna spill the whole thing .” sevika chuckled lowly. you smiled at her before jumping up to sit on the counter.

you watched her arm move for what felt like hours. you could watch her muscles in motion forever if given the choice.

“here you go.” sevika handed you your glass, brining you out of your trance.

“such a sweetheart.” you smiled. sevika chuckled under her breath before the two of you go back to the couch.

sevika sat in the middle with her flesh arm over your shoulder.

“you’re so pretty.. i’m so lucky..” you mumbled, slurring your words together.

“so are you.” sevika hummed. she loved seeing your rosy cheeks whenever you were drunk. but just for a while before she took you to bed.

not sexually. she would just tuck you in and put your teddy bear next to you under the covers.

“i like you a lot. did ya know that?” you said, leaning your head on her broad shoulder and looking up at her face.

“aw, do you? how much do you like me?”

“i like youu.. umm, like how i like alcohol.” you said as you reached for your drink that sat on the coffee table.

sevika let out a deep laughs as you took a good long sip. you grunted at the fiery spice at the back of your throat.

“take it easy.. you should be conscious enough to welcome the new year.” she chuckled.

“i don’t care bout that.. just wanna hang out with you.” you hummed.

you gripped her chin with your hand to bring her face down to your level before you left kisses all over her cheek.

your tinted lipstick left marks all over her scarred face.

sevika just let you run your course before you placed a kiss on her lips. she kissed you back and let out a quiet laugh as you gripped her shirt collar and almost brought her down on top of you.

suddenly, you both heard the crowds of zaun on the ground from outside counting down from 12.

you gasped looking over at the balcony,

you jumped up and almost fell as you ran over to the open balcony of your apartment.

“look, vika! it’s almost midnight.” you screamed excitedly.

sevika laughs lightly before going to join you.

she watched you in your pure childish joy as you counted down to midnight and then jumped and cheered when fireworks went off in the distance.

you wrapped your arms around her body and she put and arm over your shoulder.

“happy new year, vika.” you smiled up at her.

she leaned down to kiss you briefly. “happy new year, my love.” she then kissed the top of your head before you both looked up to watch the colorful fireworks.

after the firework show, you talked sevika’s ear off for another hour before falling asleep on top of her.

sevika, as she always did, put you to bed in your pajamas and a teddy bear in hand.

*˚⁺‧͙ 𖦹

[renren-006]

Doctors Magic | Lucius Verus x fem reader

plot: a doctor (previous gladiator) catches Lucius eye. A friendship forms and maybe more. Macranis is an envious man, an evil man.

warning: not historically accurate, violence, fluff, a littleangst

Word count (very long story): 6900 Words

a/n: Here is another story because this man is consuming my every waking moment! My friend said she would go see the movie with me again, and I'm excited about that. (I have to wait a few weeks tho) So until I can see my man on the big screen again, please enjoy my stories!! This is a really long one that took me a few days to finalise so please enjoy this long story!

Other Lucius Stories: Familiar Eyes Emperor Lucius

Ravi wandered into your makeshift home in one of the back cells of the gladiatorial pits. Your room was filled with a desk, a bed, and a closet. You didn't have much, but it was enough to feel like a home. You had no home of your own and no family now, so the cells became your refuge. After your own gladiator days and winning your freedom, you worked with Ravi and became a doctor. 

 A sheet hung over the cell door, along with a little sign saying “Welcome” or “Leave.” It was short, but it got through to the boys. 

“I am telling you, more and more stubborn men in this place,” he said as he sat down. You turned from your desk, a book left open. “This new one, you would like him”

“Oh, would I?” you asked, facing towards the man who sat in your patient chair. “How do you know what I like?”

“I have eyes, femina. I see what you watch” he told you wiggling his finger at you, “and this one would make you…”

“I do not need you insinuating anything about my feelings, Ravi,” you told him. You got up from the chair and walked past him to the door. You peered out of your cell, which looked towards the training grounds. “Where?” Ravi got up and pointed towards the man. He was practicing his fighting against another gladiator, their swords crashing into one another. 

“Am I right?” Ravi questioned, leaning slightly over their shoulder. You smiled up at the man, a brother of sorts to you now. “I…Maybe,” you told him, looking back at the brown-haired gladiator. “He looks troubled,” you noticed. This man looked as if he cared so much on his shoulders. The burdens of his past seeped into his being. Ravi nodded as he exited your tiny home, traveling back towards the gates where the other gladiators fresh out of the sun needed help. You took the morning off to be able to read a new book you had acquired. You watched the new gladiator fight from your door until he felt your eyes and turned to look at you. Dipping back into your room, you returned to your book before you made a fool of yourself by watching this man. Unfortunately, only so much could keep you attentive to your book as one of the boys traveled up to your door, another day of saving lives. 

You knew most of the men who worked and played here. Macranis was one of these men, always trying to worm his way into your life. He had not been the one to bring you in, a champion. He was so irritated and jealous of his competitor that it was rumored he had the man killed and took the slaves he owned. This was a rumor, of course. You knew this man was trouble no less and kept him further than an arm's length away. The problem with your avoidance is his insistence that you join his gatherings and events and even watch the games alongside him. You couldn't avoid it even when Ravi offered to cover for you and say you were not feeling well and were under the doctor's orders to stay in bed. 

That was where you sat that afternoon, watching the gladiatorial games beside Macranis in the emperor's box. Knowing you would be watching the boys get injured and be unable to treat them because of these obligations haunted you. You shifted uncomfortably in those lavish chairs. 

“How nice of you to join us again y/n,” Geta spoke, “always nice to have a favored victor in our box”

“The pleasure is all mine. I am pleased to be able to sit here with your allowance, Emperor Caracalla and Geta,” you told them, sucking up to the emperors. They both looked at you with some form of hunger. You did your best to swallow your disgust down. Macranis's hand came into view as he put it onto your arm. 

“I am thankful you allowed my request to have her join us,” Macranis said to them.

“For our friends, of course,” Caracalla said in a sing-song voice. You smiled, fakely, at the emperors and Macranis before focusing back on the game in front of you.

Just as you did, the new gladiator stepped out into the arena with a few others following. When he glanced up at the box and his eyes cast over everyone, they stopped when they landed on you. You both watched each other briefly before he looked back to the arena to see who he was fighting. The man atop the rhino left the gates, and you gasped slightly. As the fight continued and the gladiator continued winning, you could see him calculating his next move. As the rhino charged, he threw the gravel and rolled the other way. The gladiator on top of the rhino had no choice but to leave it and fight your gladiator on the ground. 

“Mercy, Mercy,” shouts rose from the crowd; they did not wish to see him killed. 

“Mercy,” you spoke, as did Lucilla. The woman's eyes met yours, and a small smile was placed there. She was a woman that many would underestimate, but you could tell she was the smartest one here. You smiled back at Marcus Aurellius' daughter. 

“Your life has been spared,” Geta said to your gladiator. “I would sooner face your blade than be given Roman mercy,” he yelled back right before he killed the man in front of him and stumbled back down to the ground. You could see his wounds and knew you had to tend to them. 

“I must take my leave; my boys need me,” you told the others. The General and his lovely wife, Lucilla, gave you a smile. Macranis, however, looked displeased.

“They will survive one more game without you,” he said matter-of-factly. You shook your head.

“After this last battle, I'm afraid I must insist,” you said as you rose, to which Macranis grabbed your arm.

“Then I will see you at my ball tonight,” Macranis implied. He had a way with words where they sounded like questions, but really, he wasn't asking. 

“As you wish”

Back with the gladiators, you found your way to the gladiator's room. He sat there watching his arm bleed. When he noticed you had arrived, he stiffened.

“Come, I should fix that arm of yours,” you said, motioning for him to follow you back to your room. Hanno nodded and followed suit. He sat in the chair beside yours and propped his arm on the table. “You're going to want to take a big whiff of this; it's for the pain,” you told him while holding up a tiny dish with smoking opium. He only nodded and sniffed right before you put the needle into his arm. 

“Damn woman,” he said to you, and you chuckled. 

“I have heard worse,” you told him, “Tell me, gladiator, what is your name?” “Hanno,” he grunted, his teeth showing the pain he was in regardless of the opium flowing through him.

“Well, Hanno, I am y/n,” you told him, trying to make conversation while you stitched him up. You looked up to see Hanno nod at you in acknowledgment. 

“Why were you with Macranis?” he asked you. You looked up to meet his eyes. His blue eyes were almost consumed by his pupils, high off the opium. He looked at you sweetly, swaying slightly in the chair. 

“A request I couldn't afford to refuse,” you told him. Hanno was quiet after that, letting you finish stitching him up and tend to his other injuries. Once you were done, you sat back, seeing Hanno leave. “I look forward to seeing you fight again, Hanno,” you told him. 

“I look forward to being in your care again,” he told you, that you were left alone in your room once again. 

Macranis required you to join his party, and it was almost required after you left early from the games. You wore one of your more elegant dresses and headed for his estate. Once there, you made your way inside and saw the rest of the elite of Rome. You felt entirely out of place. Macaronis made it his job once he knew you had joined to keep you at his side. As the hours ticked by, you felt more and more ready to leave and return to the gladiators. Soon Macranis led you away and into a room out of wandering eyes. 

“I should get going,” you told the man, hoping to avoid anything he was panning or even the conversation you were being brought into. 

“Do you not wish to stay with me?” he asked smoothly. You felt your skin crawl at his words. You did not want to keep being alone with this man. 

“As much as I enjoy your company, I need to go so I am ready for the games tomorrow and my job,” you told the man. He didn't like that answer. You began to get a bit worried, looking twords the doorway.

“Stay,” he commanded. You wanted to run as his hands clasped over your arms. He was too close, and you turned your head.

“I must leave,” you tried again. His only response was to grab your face and turn it to look at himself. As he got closer and closer to you, you decided to push him off you. Macranis stumbled back. “I said I must go,” you said again. As you turned to leave, Macranis grabbed your hand and pulled you back. His fist flew towards you. It rang through your skull, making you stumble. You haven't been punched well since you won your freedom. The slap that followed was harsh. He grabbed your face in his hands again. 

“Next time I offer you a spot by my side, do not push me away,” he said, and he kissed your cheek, “I won't be as…kind about my violence next time.” 

Once the man let go, you sprinted out the part, never making eye contact with anyone there, knowing your abrupt departure probably caused no one to turn. 

You stumbled back into the gladiator's arena. Your dress was disorganized, your hair a mess, and you could feel the forming bruise deepening on your cheek. The cut on your lip made you wince, and you didn't even want to know how you looked. As you made your way past the training grounds, you could see Hanno, your gladiator, training. He looked at you as he heard the footsteps, and you could see you did not look well by the look in his eyes. You turn your head fast and quicken your pace to your cell. He followed.

“What happened?” he asked at your doorway. You had just sat on your bed when he rounded to your door. You didn't say anything, and I'm still unsure if your voice would work. The ability to put what happened into words was hard. Hanno came inside the room, closer to you now. “Who did this?” “Macranis,” you spoke lightly. Finally, finding your voice. You looked up at him, a wordless plea for him to sit beside you. Hanno came over to your bed, sitting gently next to you. 

“I will kill him for you, if you wish,” he said; you laughed a little but winced slightly when your lips upturned. A small subtle joke to lighten the mood. The undertones of the offer hung in the air. “What shall I use to help?” he asked. 

You motioned with your hand to the rag on your table, a small bowl of water and ointment you knew would help your lips from becoming infected. Hanoo gently did as instructed and cleaned your lip, cheek, and the cuts on your forehead. Once done, he put a small amount of ointment in your lip and a small torn piece of cloth to help it stay. You were grateful for his help.

“Thank you, Hanno,” you told him. He only nodded. You could hear the guards rounding up the others to get them into their cells. “As much as I enjoy your company, I'm afraid it is your bedtime.”

“That time again,” he told you getting up from next to you, “I will see you tomorrow, y/n”

“Sleep well Hanno”

The next day, you woke up to a bruised cheek, split lip, and a pounding headache. You dressed fast, set your hair up in a hairdo that wouldn't aggravate the headache, and headed out. YOu passed by the other gladiators and stopped by Ravis set up.

“You mind?” you asked him. Ravi looked up from his unpacking to rush over to you.

“y/n! What on the gods happened.” “I can not speak his name right now,” you said, glancing around at the guards. Ravi quickly understood, having known about Macranis and the rumors. Ravi motioned you to sit as he worked on your split lip. He stitched it up once and washed it to disinfect it. The bruise, however, couldn't be helped much. He put a light amount of bast to help, but that was all he could do. 

“I am sorry for this,” he told you. You shook your head, knowing it was never his fault.

“Should have seen Hanno. Looked as if he wanted to rip the man's head off” 

“He saw?”Ravi asked surprised. “He helped,” you told him simply. “Gladiator tending to his doctor, what an interesting turn of event.s” 

“Did I not say you would like him” Ravi said. You chuckled and nodded your head. That day you didnt join Macranis inside the emperors box. You did not leave the grounds for many days, deciding keeping to be around the gladiators was safer than the world beyond those walls.  

*

“Are you from Rome?” Hanno asked. You looked up twords the man. You had sat yourself outside by the training grounds. Another one of the books you remembered your father reading was in your hands. Hanno had walked over from where he was training to join you. As you looked twords the sky, you realized how the afternoon had slowly started to turn to night. Many of the other gladiators had already left. 

“Yes,” you told him, “I used to live just outside of Rome.” “How did you end up here?” he asked curiously. “My father. He was not well-liked,” you told the man. Hanno sat next to you, obviously wanting to know more. “He was a political speaker, always talked about the good words of Marcus Aurelius and how our Rome should be as he speaks. It is as they say; his words were real until the moment they were talked about, and then it became a whisper once again.n” “What happened to him?” “He was killed. Right here at the coliseum, actually,” you told him. You remembered the moment he died, standing close to him on that gravel arena. Your father spoke no words at that moment but looked to the sky as he was killed. After that, you were instead sentenced to be a slave to the games. “I was forced into the games after that, and my mother was long dead before any of this.”

“Im sorry” he told you. The words of understanding, the pain inside that sorry. You knew Hanno had lost people, you knew he understood your feelings.  

“You have lost people, so have I. I fought for years with his ideas in my mind, but with these new emperors and Macranis, I am not sure that the Rome Marcus Aurelius spoke about is achievable,” you told him, shutting the book in your hands. It wasn't like you had given up on your father's words, but you feared they started meaning less at some point. “I think it can be,” Hanno told you. “I hail from Numidia but was born here in Rome.” You met his eyes. He kept this to himself; you had not heard the others talking about where he was from. You were shocked he trusted you enough to tell you about his origins. 

“You are Roman” you asked, the shock of his reval settling into your bones. 

“Yes. I lived here during and after Marcus Aurelius” he told you. “I know those ideas”

“I guess his vision is not completely a whisper then” you told the man. Hanno nodded. “Would you tell me more about your home?”

Hanno and you traveled to his cell and talked for hours in hushed tones about his home, and you talked about yours. You recalled all the memories of your childhood home, the garden, the foundation, and the long walkway to get to your home. You talked about the way your father would always smell of parchment and how he had an entire room of Marcus Aurelius's words and writings inside, along with other political and philosophical ideals. Hanno asked many questions about your father and his ideals, and you told him everyone. The idea of a new Rome, a better Rome, was something even the two of you still hoped could exist. You, in turn, asked about his life in Numidia and what it was like there. He told you about his home and his late wife. You wanted to know more about his home but it was still a subject of sorrow for him. When the night became late, the two of you didn't stop talking. Instead, you curled in His small bed and continued till your eyes fell heavy.  

Another day woke the world. You rose from Hanno's cot, and it was another long night of talking. It was starting to get to you during the day and you knew Hanno needed more sleep for his games. You rose from the side of the bed closest to the open room. Slipping out from under Hanno's arm, you slipped out of the cell and back to your room. Unfortunately, you were again required to join Macranis in the emperor's box. You had refused to see him for far too long that you knew there would be trouble if you didn't go. You wore the same pink dress you had whenever you sat there and strolled back out into the world. Macranis was already in the box when you joined him in the afternoon heat.

“The champion doctor” Get a spoke, “finally back in our box” 

Macranis eyes met yours, and so did the Generals. That bruise and cut lip were still not fully healed. 

“Take my seat y/n” General Acatious spoke, “I wish to sit a bit higher up today” You could feel the tension in your back left as you sat next to Lucilla, refusing to look twords the man next to Acacius. 

“Afternoon, my lady,” you spoke to the woman. She smiled warmly at you. 

“Welcome” she told you, “Now I finally have someone to gossip with” she told you, clearly doing her best to lighten the mood. 

“I do enjoy a bit of gossip,” you told her, “The gladiators don't gossip much. I require some good Roman insite.” Lucilla smiled, enjoying your company already. You knew the woman had supported your father during his political activism, and she clearly remembered who you were. If only you were able to speak to her now about it all. Lucilla eyed you curiously. You smiled and shook your head. As the two of you continued to chat, Lucilla told you about the new elite women and wine companies opening up by the ports. Once it was Hanno's turn, your focus was more on the games, and Lucilla seemed to also be particularly interested. As you watched him walk out like he always does, a smile played on your lips. Hanno eyed you in the box and shifted them between you and Lucilla; he smiled and even took a moment to just look at you. You wish your heart was not pounding as hard as it was, but he had that effect on you. Lucilla gave you a knowing look.

“Your favorite?” she asked. You laughed a little.

“What gave it away?” you asked. She only smiled at that. 

“He is a strong and capable one,” Lucilla remarked, almost as if she wanted to know what you thought. 

“Hannos a good man,” you said to her. Lucilla looked…proud at your words. The games continued o,n and when Hanno won his game and was sent back under the arena, you took your leave. Lucilla bid you farewell, as well as General Acasius. Macranis only focus on the games, no mind to you. Worry built inside you at that. When you walked back down to the gladiators and that moment played in your mind, you almost missed the door to your room. 

Macranis grew increasingly insistent on your attendance in the box and even at his parties. You had not gone, and even when you joined them in the box, Lucilla started making Gernal Acasius give his seat to you instead. You had not talked or spoken to the man in a few weeks. 

“You seem worried today,” Hanno told you as he entered your room. You nodded your head at him.

“I have fought in those pits, and for some reason, Macranis scares me more than those men ever did,” you told him, “I do not want to go alone to that lavish party.”

“He is insisting again?” he asked shocked. 

“It feels more than just insisting, almost like he thinks he can command me to go,” you told him. “I am sick of men telling me what to do.”

“Believe me, y/n, I understand,” Hanno told you, causing you to take a deep breath and calm down. He had a way of calming you down, even if his words were simple. “Do not go if you fear it; stay here and talk with me.” Hanno's pleading eyes were enough to almost make you say yes.

“I wish I could,” you told him. “I wish nothing more than to stay here with you, but I can not. This man, the power he holds here, it is worse if I do not go.”

“Take me” he said quickly. You looked at the man with shock. 

“You must be mad!" you said with wide eyes. Hanno had to have lost his mind. “Take me; I will protect you,” He insisted, grabbing your hands. There had been a shift in Hanno since you started speaking and lying together at night. Those moments together left him wanting to be a different, better man. He says you and you saw him, and because of that, he tried to protect it. 

“Taking you is too much, Hanno, that's asking for punishment not only for you but me too,” you told him. “I will go for a short time and be back before you know it”

While the party was lavish as ever, many of the roman elite were there again. Many more men and women were there from the pleasure houses for the gusts, too. Macranis spotted you immediately. 

“My my y/n, you look wonderful tonight,” he told you. Bowing you kissed his hand as he extended it to you. A small prayer went out to the gods in favor of no violence happening. You smiled up at Macranis.

“Thank you for having me,” you told him, lying through your teeth. He only cooly smiled. He kept you by his side, and he talked with others. Then, with one group, they spoke of the games and the gladiators in them; Macranis smiled. 

“Y/n” he said, “You have a soft spot for those gladiators, do you not?” “I…I treat their injuries, if that is what you mean?” You said to those around you. “You are the doctor?” One of the ladies asked with disgust, “How can you stand it?” “It is not all that bad,d,” you told them.

“She was a slave in the Colosseum,” Macranis said quickly, causing many eyes to fall on you, “She would not be disgusted by these men because she used to be one” “I…” 

“You were a slave,” A mother spoke, the disbelief and disgust evident on their face and in their words. You wanted to shrink away or even yell at them that their opinions of slaves and gladiators were wrong. You could only look at the eyes of everyone and see their true feelings and judgment. 

“Yes. Yes. She was quite fierce. Were you not?” you could only focus on the growing ringing in your ears. MAcranis laughed slightly and his arm cascaded over your shoulders. “It's no wonder she stays; she's got many men down there to satisfy her.”

“I do not,” you snarled. You looked at Macranis with a feeling you haven't felt since the arena. You wanted this man dead. “I am there to treat them with the respect they have earned.”

“Respect? Why would those lowly and traitorous men deserve respect?” He asked you. He had a motive here, to make you seem undesirable to the people around him and to remind you of your place. He was still pissed about not allowing his advances and your avoidance of him in the emperor's box. MAcranis was not a man to take lightly; he was dangerous. 

“They deserve more respect than you do,” you told him, shoving his arm off yours and leaving his lavish palace. 

When you retuned, you found a woman talking to Hanno. He saw you in the hallway before the woman did. Lucilla turned twords you, letting her veil sway as she did. She smiled at you before she turned back to Hanno and bid him a good buy. 

“My dear y/n,” Lucilla spoke to you, “thank you.” Wonder flooded through you. Glancing back to Hanno, you saw him seated with his head in his hands.

“Is he okay?”

“I believe he will be. He will find a way to be with your help,” she told you. You were ever curious about why she was there and what her words meant. “I must be off. Oh, and dear, you better take care of that,” she said, pointing to the matchup you knew was running down your face. As you swiped it away, she was gone. Looking back you saw Hanno watching you, he motioned you to his cell. As the door was opened for you, he swallowed you in his arms. 

“Are you alright?” he asked you. A small laugh escaped you. 

“I could ask the same,” you told him as he realized you to look at your face. He brushed your cheek, spearing or clearing the rined makeup you were not sure. 

“What did he do?” he asked, the intensity of his voice surrounding the room. 

“I never realized how hard words could hurt,” you told him; another tear fell just at that. “I was there just to be humiliated,” you told Hanno. 

“He is a dangerous man,” Hanno said; you nodded your head. “I..need to tell you something,” he spoke to you, leading you over to his bed. 

“What is it?” you asked him. He looked as ifhe wanted to take back what he said. 

“I have not been truthful with you,” He told you, “I'm more than just a Roman. My name is Lucius Verus Aurelius, and my grandfather was Marcus Aurelius.” You stared at him, unable to think of what to say next. You just nodded your head at him, eye contact never breaking. “I'm sorry I did not tell you before” 

“Why are you sorry?” you asked suddenly, “Han-Lucius, you have a name, a history that holds such weight within Rome, of course you did not say anythin.g” 

“I had not come to terms with who I was for a long time,” he said, “I did not want to be him, but I think it is time I remember who my family was. It is because of you I can accept it” “Lucius,” you said, sweetly saying his name as you held his face in your hands. “I did nothing. You had to concur that battle yourself.” 

“I could not have done it without you,” he told you. Leaning into your hands. You wanted him close to you, your heart beat faster. “Thank you”

“I'm so glad I could help you,” you told him. “I…I know you are not ready…but if you tell your secrets, I should tell mine.” “If you wish,” he said, you dropped your hands into your own lap.

“I did not mean to fall for you, Lucius, but I have. I know your past and pain, and I do not wish to force anything onto you, but I think you should know my feelings,” you said, only looking up once you had finished. Lucius held an unreadable face. “I'm glad you told me about your origins. I will leave you for the night,” you said and got up. Lucius' hand found yours before you could leave. You glanced back at him, only for him to place his hand on your cheek and bring you close, kissing you sweetly. You almost lost your balance, but Lucius held you. When you broke,e and he looked at you, the smile in his eyes and lips made you understand. 

“I do feel the same, but I am still a broken man,” he told you, “Would you be there with me to learn to love again?”

“For you? Anything” you told him. Lucius smiled and pulled you in for a hug.

That night, you lay in his arms as he recalled the memories he had as a child. He recalled the memories with his mother, his grandfather, and the man he admired, who was his father. You remembered Maximus, who set out to get revenge against Emperor Commodus. Here, his son lay after twenty years of being away from Rome, only to end up in the same games his father played in. Lucius was strong; you knew he was. 

You were not told about the plot to de-throne the emperors until a few days later. Lucius returned from his naval battle after trying to kill General Acacius, only for his mother to go and tell him about her plans. Lucius felt terrible for letting his anger get the best of him and almost killing the man his mother clearly loved. He told you about their plans and how Macranis was slowly inching his way further and further into the emperor's minds. He was evil; you both knew it, but how much did the people know. You could always feel the tension between the people and the emperors, knowing they were close to rebelling. 

It was a lovely afternoon when a few men came to take you to Lucius mothers home, Lucilla stood at the gate with a smile on her face. You embraced her and walked in together. As you two talked you could tell she wonderd how much you knew. 

“They do not hold the people's hearts,” you told Lucilla casually. “One wrong move by the emperors, and I fear the people may result in madness.” You gave her a knowing look that, hidden within your words, were hits to cause something to get the people on their side. 

“I fear that as well,” she told you. Lucilla was already aware of the people's disloyalty. She nodded her head twords you, understanding that Lucius had told you everything. “How is your gladiator?”

“Very well” you told her smiling, “he has a heart I havent even beguin to understand fully. I look forward to learning more”

Lucilla smiled, another knowing glance. She could see the blush on your cheeks and maybe also your red lips. There was a glow about you, something only Lucius could bring out. 

“Lucilla. He makes me believe in Rome again,” you said to her. A vulnerable statement with no layers or undertones, a clear meaning anyone could understand. You did not wish to hide how her son made you feel or believe in a better future. 

“You have truly helped him find himself then,” she said. “I always knew his father's heart was in him” 

“He's got his mother smarts as well,” you told her, “and his grandfather's spirit.” Lucilla could feel your pride for her son. Lucius was a good man who had overcome so much in his life. Now that he was here in Rome you could believe that Rome could change and be better. Lucilla could sense this revelation and leaned back in her chair. The rest of the afternoon was spent gossiping and even talking of favorite tea flavors. It was evening when you arrived back at the gladiator's homes. You were not alone. The moment of capture happened so fast that you had no time to panic. You were unconscious before you even fell. 

When you awoke, you were in a lavishly designed room. Around you were some chairs, a table, a small closet, and a window. You rise from the bed, realizing you are still wearing the pink dress you wore to meet Lucilla. As you walked over to the window, you looked out onto the Roman streets and noticed the Colosseum loomed close to the building. You were inside Macranis house. When those doors opened, the man himself walked through the doors. He smiled at you and clapped his ringed hands together. 

“Welcome,” he said. You looked back outside before you glanced back. 

“How long have I been here?” “Only a few hours,” he told you and walked over. “We have a spectacle to put on today, my lovely. Get changed, and I will escort you to the Colosseum.”

“What spectacle?” you asked. 

“It will be your spectacle,” he said, “A spectacle for the people on what happens when you fool me.” As he left, you felt yourself fall to the ground. He had planned for your death since that first incident, and now he had his opportunity. You dressed in the lavish white gown he wanted you to wear, your hair was braided elegantly, and you were led out to the games. As you walked in, cuffs were put onto your hands. 

The more you walked, the more you realized no one was on this side of the colosseum; you were going to the second entrance to the gravel pits. You stepped inside, and every memory that was housed here from your time came flooding back. You remember your fights, your rage and your ability. The ability to fight for survival had been lost to you, put away but now back. 

“Passed famed gladiator y/n now here for her traitorous acts of not honoring an engagement and being with a slave gladiator, Hanno” the announced shouted twords the people of Rome. You could hear the disagreeing voices of the crowd. This was what a mass crowd looked like when angered. As you looked into the emperor's box, you saw Macranis smiling and the emperors watching with intrigue. Lucilla sat in her chair near them chaine,d and General Acatious was held similarly. Lucilla looked at you with fear for yourself and yourself. Understanding shone in your eyes; you were all here for one territory or another. Macranis had made your spectacle be first saving Lucillas and the generals for later on that day. You where calculating your odds when the doors opened. Lucius walked out but stopped once he saw you in the center. The guards around you were ready to close once he came closer. He walked slowly, never letting his eyes leave you.

“y/n…” he muttered, pain evident in how he spoke your name. He worried the whole knight over where you were.

“Wait,” you told him. You knew they would be listening, and you didn't need him being dragged into this. You were still thinking of how you were going to get out of here when a sword was thrown at your feet. You glanced twords the box as Geta stood. 

“Gladiator, do your job and kill this…whore before you. She has betrayed a dear friend of the emperors and must be punished.” He spoke with conviction, sure of his words and actions. The crowd booed at them; some stood, and others stayed seated, speaking their minds. Lucilla looked twords you; maybe she could also sense the emperors losing their support. The emperors were oblivious to the rising hatred. You looked back at Lucius, hoping he could see the rage in your eyes. You wanted to show these people that they could fight against the emperors against the people who oppressed them. 

You crouched and gathered your sword and locked eyes with Lucious.  You moved your hands so the chains clanked against one another, and Lucious's eyes grew. Good, he knew what to do. Lucius raised his sword, showing his acceptance of the game. He charged at you, and in the last moment, you opened your arms till the chains pulled against one another, and Lucius' sword swung down, breaking them. The guards around you readied their swords. 

“Seems I get to see you in action now” Lucius said with a smirk.

“Ready to see what a champion looks like?” you asked smuggly, turning around and becoming flush with Lucious own back as you wathed the wtow sides of the arena.

“You ready?” he asked. “As I'll ever be” 

The guard charged, and you danced with them. Your sword flew through the air, your enemies falling prey to the sharp edges. The dress you wore flowed with you, you were the waves against the italian shore flowing with power and grace. The cuffs and loose chains rattled against your arm and sword as you spun, making your ears ring. Blood now stained that white gown and you hardly cared. Your hair slowly came loose from those braids, and you felt the same feelings you had all those years ago. You had been free for three years, and here you were back where you started fighting for your life, which was exhilarating. You missed the way your blood pumped and your sword cut. You missed the way a sword felt in your hand, like the perfect extension. When you spun around and realized too soon all your enemies lay dead on the collosium floor, you breathed slow and deep. You soaked it all in, letting the sun warm your face. It was exciting when you looked behind you and found Lucius turning to face you. You both had slain the men put here to guard and potentially kill you. When you looked up at the box and saw Macranis with a crestfallen face, you knew you had one last thing to accomplish. As you looked around, you saw one of the men with a knife strapped to his side. You stormed over twords him, dropping your blade with a clatter and ripping the knife out of its sheath. Lucius was by your sid,e instantly taking the knife from you. 

“Lucius” you said daringly. He only smiled.

“Allow me the honors” he said, “I said I would kill him for you and that is what I intend to do.” 

You watched as the man before you somehow found a way into the emperor's box, walking past everyone there and right to Macranis, who had no time to fight before the knife was plunged deep into his heart. There were words whispered by Lucious into Macranis's ear, only for him to know. The look that befell Macranis's face told you that whatever words had been said had killed him more than that knife had. 

“Guards” Geta yelled, but no one came. As you looked at the crowd, you realized why. There, the people took up their own arms and fought against the soldiers stationed there. Your intended execution had caused the people to realize their low place in this Roman world, and now they were doing their best to take it back. As Geta and Caracalla left the coliseum, you knew their lives would be ended shortly. 

*

Lucious stood out on the hill looking down twords Rome. You wandered over from your farmhouse and hugged the man, sliding to his side. 

“You overthink,” you told him. He laughed before looking down at yo,u pulling you closer to his side. It was a wordless encounter, knowing only you knew him and his soul now. Lucilla and Acacius were alive and back in their home in Rome, leaving you and Lucius to move out to the countryside. You preferred this life, a quiet one, compared to your formal living arrangement. You still worked as a doctor, tending to some of the locals and Lucius when he got nipped by the chickens. It became well known that they preferred you to him. You relaxed in Lucius arms, this was what your father had been talking about. Peace and steadyness in Rome. You could feel it, like Rome had been holding her breath for so long, and now she had let go. The people of Rome were treated better now, in the hands of the people for the people. 

“I guess his dream was not a whisper after all,” Lucius said. “Our fathers will now be at peace”

[scoupsakakitty]

Can you do Hoshi x member of a 4th gen group please, y/n is younger than hoshi like 5 years, born in 2000s thank you!!

Five Years Apart | idol!Hoshi x idol!Reader | fluff

The sound of heels clicking against polished floors echoed down the narrow hallway. Y/N held her breath, clutching the edges of her oversized jacket, as her reflection flickered in the mirrors lining the walls. She had spent the last fifteen minutes pacing outside the rehearsal room, trying to gather enough courage to step inside.

Today wasn’t just any rehearsal. It was the day she’d be meeting Hoshi.

The Hoshi—the man whose performances had made her want to become an idol in the first place.

And now she was about to rehearse a special collaboration stage with him.

Five years. That’s how much older he was. In the industry, five years could feel like a lifetime. He debuted before she even finished middle school, and now here she was barely out of her teens trying not to look like a nervous wreck.

Before she could spiral any further, the door suddenly swung open.

“Ah—sorry!”

Y/N took a quick step back, nearly tripping as she looked up and froze.

Hoshi stood in the doorway, dressed in loose sweatpants and a sleeveless shirt, his hair slightly damp as if he’d just finished practicing. His sharp eyes softened as he took in her startled expression.

“Oh,” he said, his lips curving into a grin. “You must be Y/N.”

She nodded quickly, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. “Y-Yes! I mean… yes, Hoshi-ssi.”

His grin widened. “No need to be so formal. Just call me Hoshi.”

“I—okay, Hoshi-ssi.”

He let out a laugh, the sound light and genuine. “Close enough. Come on, let’s get started.”

Y/N followed him inside, her heart pounding as the door clicked shut behind them.

———————————————————————————-

Rehearsals went smoother than Y/N had expected mostly because Hoshi made it impossible to stay nervous for long.

He cracked jokes whenever she messed up, showing her tips and tricks instead of scolding her. He treated her like an equal, even though he was miles ahead of her in experience.

But there were moments, moments when his hand would linger a second too long on her waist while fixing their formation, or when he’d lean in just a little closer to whisper instructions that sent her pulse racing.

She told herself it was just admiration. She’d grown up watching him perform, after all. Of course she’d be flustered.

But then there was the way he looked at her.

“You’re a quick learner,” he said one evening after practice, handing her a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” she replied, taking a sip to avoid meeting his gaze.

“You remind me of myself, actually,” he continued.

That made her look up. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He leaned back against the mirror, arms crossed as he watched her. “I was like you when I started out young, eager, always pushing myself too hard.”

Her stomach flipped at the word young. There it was again that reminder of their age gap. Five years. It wasn’t huge, but it felt significant when she was barely in her twenties, and he was already an established star.

“I guess I still feel like I have to prove myself,” she admitted.

Hoshi tilted his head. “You don’t.”

“What?”

“You don’t have to prove anything. Not to me, not to anyone. You’re already good enough.”

Her breath caught. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, he reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

The gesture was so sudden, so intimate, that it sent a shiver down her spine.

“You’re going to be amazing out there,” he said softly, his voice steady but his eyes unreadable.

And just like that, he stepped back, leaving her heart racing and her thoughts spinning.

———————————————————————————-

It was the night before their performance, and Y/N couldn’t sleep.

She sat on the rooftop of the venue, wrapped in a jacket to block out the cool night air. The city lights stretched out beneath her, but her mind was stuck on rehearsal—on him.

“Couldn’t sleep either?”

She turned at the sound of Hoshi’s voice and saw him stepping onto the rooftop, hands shoved into his pockets.

“I… yeah,” she admitted as he sat down beside her.

For a while, neither of them spoke. They just stared at the skyline, the silence oddly comforting.

Then Hoshi broke it.

“Do you think it’s weird?”

She looked at him. “What?”

“That I feel so…” He hesitated. “Drawn to you.”

Her heart stopped. “W-What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” he said with a small laugh. “Maybe it’s the way you remind me of myself, or how you keep surprising me every time we practice. But I look at you, and it’s like—I don’t know how to explain it.”

Y/N swallowed hard. “Hoshi, you’re—”

“Older?” He finished the sentence for her, his smile fading.

She nodded.

“Yeah, I know. Five years.” He looked down at his hands. “I thought about that too.”

She bit her lip, unsure what to say.

“But the thing is,” he continued, looking up at her, “it doesn’t feel like it matters when I’m with you.”

The air between them felt heavier, charged with something unspoken.

“I know it’s probably crazy,” he added, “but I needed you to know.”

Y/N’s pulse thundered in her ears. “It’s not crazy,” she whispered.

His eyes widened slightly. “No?”

She shook her head. “Not to me.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, slowly, he reached out and took her hand, his thumb brushing gently over her knuckles.

“You make me feel like I’m starting over,” he murmured.

And just like that, the gap between them the years, the experience disappeared.

———————————————————————————-

The performance was over, but Y/N’s heart was still racing as if she were standing under the blinding stage lights. Applause and cheers echoed in her ears, but all she could focus on was him.

Hoshi stood just a few feet away, drenched in sweat but smiling brighter than the spotlights. He caught her gaze, and in that instant, the crowd disappeared.

“You did it,” he mouthed, his lips curling into that familiar grin.

Y/N felt her cheeks flush. She wanted to say something back, but before she could, their manager ushered her away toward her waiting group members.

Even surrounded by people, she felt the absence of his presence beside her.

Later that night, Y/N stood in the dimly lit hallway outside the dressing rooms, nervously twisting the fabric of her jacket. She wanted to see him needed to see him but doubts gnawed at her.

What if she had imagined everything? The looks, the lingering touches, the way his words had made her feel like she was the only person in the room?

Before she could turn and leave, the door opened, and there he was.

“Y/N?”

Her breath caught. “Hoshi.”

He leaned against the doorframe, his expression softening as he took her in. “You’re still here?”

“I… wanted to talk to you.”

“Me too.” He stepped out, letting the door close behind him. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

———————————————————————————-

The rooftop was quiet, just like the night before, but this time, the air felt heavier. Charged.

Hoshi leaned against the railing, his hands gripping the cold metal as he looked out over the glittering city.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he began, his voice steady but low. “About how I feel when I’m with you.”

Y/N swallowed, her heart pounding. “And what exactly do you feel?”

He turned to her then, his gaze intense. “Like I can’t stop thinking about you. Like every time I see you smile, it’s the best part of my day.”

Her breath hitched.

“But I keep asking myself if it’s fair. To you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re so young, Y/N. You’re just starting out, and I don’t want to hold you back.”

She stepped closer, her voice trembling but firm. “You’re not holding me back. If anything, you make me want to be better.”

Hoshi exhaled sharply, as if he’d been holding his breath. “You really mean that?”

She nodded. “I don’t care about the age gap. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. I just…” She paused, searching for the right words. “I just want to be with you.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, suddenly, he closed the distance between them, his hands cupping her face as he looked down at her.

“Say it again,” he whispered.

“I want to be with you.”

And before she could say anything more, his lips were on hers.

The kiss was soft at first hesitant, as if testing the waters but it quickly deepened, years of tension and unspoken words pouring into that single moment.

When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other.

“I guess there’s no turning back now,” Hoshi murmured, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek.

“Good,” Y/N whispered. “I don’t want to turn back.”

———————————————————————————-

[oldguardleatherdog]

I would like to know more about pup history!

Well, hello, and thanks for asking! Sorry it took a while to respond.

Pup Play as we know it today got its start in 1986 at the International Mr. Leather gathering in Chicago when the partner of a leather artist at the Vendor Market, who showed up in a full-body leather pup suit and a mask crafted by a saddlemaker, started bouncing around the place barking and howling and humping the leather guys as they browsed the whips and chains on display-

-as a protest against the hardcore stoic impenetrable macho attitude that was prevalent among leathermen in those days - the standing joke was that "S&M" stood for "Stand & Model" - breaking through their poser facade, forcing them to interact and engage in a way that was just too cute and endearing to ignore or resist.

Pup Play began as an act of protest at the biggest leather gathering of the year against a cultural and institutional barrier to communication and connection. One guy - one dog - broke through that barrier, and nearly four decades later there are thousands of people around the world who pull on a pup hood and hit the ground or the mats or the dance floor barking up a storm, expressing ourselves in ways that are free and full, in a spirit of joy that at its best can transcend roleplay and allow us to experience, however briefly, "the time when the divorce between human and animal was not yet complete." (Mircea Eliade, Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy, Princeton University Press, 1972)

That guy, "Ranger", who's a good friend and a real sweetheart, is still active in the scene here in San Francisco and is our "First Pup", the original (and best!). A year later, almost to the day, I came out as a gay man - and when I came out, I came out barking. The man who put me on all fours for the first time was the man who brought me out, my first and only Leather Daddy who set me on this wild path that became a life's work.

I'm Pup Number Two, 37 years on all fours. I taught the first Pup Play workshop on record (San Francisco, August 1997), where I presented the first Trainer/Handler curriculum to a leather audience for use and adaptation, conducted numerous clinics, demos, and performances for groups and clubs across the United States, and showed hundreds of kinksters of all ages and genders how they could find, embrace, and express their "inner canine." Over the past year, I've been giving my presentation/lecture on Pup History online and IRL for pup-and-handler groups; it's been well received and is being expanded with new research from the field for 2025.

For several years Ranger and I were the only ones doing this radical fringe weird thing that was viewed as disgusting and sick and immoral by the leather and kink community, vilified so strongly that for the first decade those of us who practiced this kink did so mostly underground, communicating through word-of-mouth and personal ads in magazines, because if it got around that we liked to bark in the sack we'd have been thrown out of the community as sickos who were barely a step above actual bestialists (a slur that has never been true of our practice or those who practice it).

In the US and Canada from 1986 to 1997, there were only about a dozen known pup players - researchers including myself are actively searching for others from that long-ago time if they even existed - and we had to fight like hell for years to be open about the kink that we loved and to be able to express ourselves openly in this way. That's surprising to many given the popularity of Pup Play today, but it took a lot of hardcore commitment in the face of opposition to get us out from the shadows and into the light of day.

I hope this is a good introduction to our history and that I've expressed it well enough to satisfy your initial curiosity! There's much more, of course, so if there are any particular areas you're curious about, let me know, awoo!

Thank you for asking. "Beast wishes" to you for a happy and humpy New Year!

Woofs + wags, Alpha Pup Bruzr

[thursdayinspace]

ficlet: a long time and no time at all

So, @laurencem asked what Mulder and Scully were doing at the unremarkable house at midnight for the anniversary of the millennium kiss. I could imagine their night having been something like this. tagging @today-in-fic

It’s been a long time and no time at all. She’s looking out the window, three minutes to midnight, lost in thought; it’s dark outside, but the room is filled with the soft light of a single lamp and a few candles. She sees little but her own reflection looking back at her, a contemplative look on her face.

His reflection joins hers as he steps up behind her, placing his hands on her hips and leaning his chin on the top of her head. He fits against her as if their bodies were made to slot together. She’s never felt small in his arms. She feels invincible.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” she answers.

“What are you thinking about?”

She takes a second to answer. It’s been such a long time and no time at all. “Us. You and me.”

“Funny,” he says. “I’ve just been thinking about the same thing.”

It doesn’t surprise her. They don’t celebrate many holidays, but they celebrate this one. There aren’t many New Year’s Eves they’ve spent apart. The few she hasn’t spent with him, she’s spent alone. She knows he’s done the same. This night belongs to the two of them. There’s no room for anyone else.

His eyes are fixed on her reflection. Hers are fixed on his. If she squints, she can see their younger selves in the window standing slotted together like puzzle pieces, and it seems right. Such a long time. She leans back against him and sighs. No time at all, really. She takes his arm and lifts it to look at the watch on his wrist. One more minute. She links her fingers with his before letting their hands drop back to their sides. It seems like yesterday that she touched him for the first time, shook his hand and changed her life.

It seems like yesterday that he leaned towards her in a hospital hallway and touched his lips to hers for the first time.

“Twenty-five years,” he says. Of course he’s thinking about it too.

“A quarter of a century.” It sounds like forever when she puts it into words. It has been forever. It is forever.

He sways back and she turns in his arms, looks up at him, wonders how the sight of him can still take her breath away. In the small space between them he lifts his arm so they can both see the face of his watch, the seconds ticking down. They don’t speak. Time passes without words. They’ve never needed many.

Ten seconds. She hears the countdown from the TV twenty-five years ago, feels the quiet calm she’d felt as she watched the world stay the same.

Five, four, three.

She looks up at him, his gaze meeting hers, and the look in his eyes is the same it was then. It’s always been the same.

Two. One.

He leans in.

Midnight: a moment’s pause, close enough they’re sharing breath, and even if she can’t remember the number of seconds it took for his lips to meet hers back then, she thinks it must have been exactly this long before they closed the final inch of distance for the first time.

A soft, lingering kiss, so familiar it makes her heart flutter in her chest. She knows his lips so well. They’ve touched every part of her body. They’ve formed words that have healed her and hurt her and made her feel like the luckiest person in the world. The new year wouldn’t start without his kiss, the hands of the watch frozen in the half second before midnight. She doesn’t know how time moved on when they weren’t together. Maybe it only did because she closed her eyes and wished him to be with her until the universe believed that he was.

The smile on her face is different than the one from twenty-five years ago. His is too.

She’d never thought she was all that special until he’d looked at her.

“Happy new year, Scully,” he says.

“Happy new year, Mulder,” she answers.

A quarter of a century ago, so much had happened to them that she’d believed nothing could surprise her anymore. These days, so much has happened to them that she expects new surprises every day.

This is the only thing that will never change: she loves him. Utterly and completely. It’s been so long and no time at all since she let that knowledge out its cage in her heart, shared it with him, and learned what the look in his eyes had been telling her all along. To be loved like this is more than she can comprehend.

“When you kissed me back then,” she starts.

“Twenty-five years ago?”

“Yeah. When you kissed me then…” She puts her hands on his chest to feel the steady beating of his heart. “I never asked. Was it supposed to be a New Year’s kiss? Or the start of something?”

He runs his fingertips gently along her temple. “Neither,” he says. “I think I was admitting something that had been true for a long time.”

“Okay.”

“Did you understand?”

“I think I did,” she says. “Did you understand my answer?”

He nods. “I think I did. Either way, it worked out alright, didn’t it?”

It’s been a long time and no time at all since she kissed him for the second time. In the car as she dropped him off at his apartment. A long time and no time at all since she asked him if he needed help with anything with his arm in a sling, a long time and no time at all since he said yes and asked her if she’d come up for a while. A long time and no time at all since they kissed for the third time and then more times than she can count.

She kisses him again. She kisses him like it’s twenty-five years ago, she kisses him like they’ve been kissing for a quarter of a century, she kisses him like time has no meaning at all.

He’s the same and he is different. She’s the same and she is different. What they’re saying to each other is the same. That time passes, and they’ll face it together. Always.

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / A03

Turns out being a mall rat was a lot more fun than it looked.

Or at least it was when Eddie wasn’t dragging them all into his new favorite hobby: salivating over Sailor Steve.

“This feels a little…” Gareth started, sitting at a table behind a massive, planted bush.

“Adventurous? James Bond-like?”

“Creepy.” He finished, as they all watched Steve do some kind of sarcastic looking dance at Robin.

“It’s the binoculars, man.” Jeff added, watching Eddie lean over the bush. “It’s too much.”

“He’s trying so hard to win her over.” Eddie raged on. “He’s like one of those birds looking for a mate, doing all these fancy moves and--and spins!”

He sniffed loudly, offended both at Steve and on his behalf. “We’re getting her fired.”

Jeff gave a long suffering look to the ceiling. “We’re not getting her fired.”

“If we get her fired,” Grant said, in that ‘thinking aloud’ tone he had, “Would Steve be the new manager?”

“We could get so much free ice cream.” Eddie wheedled at Jeff, who frowned back at him.

“Once again I find myself asking how I became your conscience.”

“If the shoe fits, Jiminy Cricket.”

Gareth and Grant cackled, as he returned to staring at his beloved ex-jock’s attempt to befriend (or flirt with, if one asked Eddie) what had to be the first woman who wanted nothing to do with him.

Sans Tiff, of course.

“As much fun as watching Steve work is, can we please go back to what we were actually supposed to be doing?” Jeff tapped on the spiral bound notebook he’d brought with him.

It held the words “potential song lyrics” and absolutely nothing else.

“Aww Jeffrey,” Gareth cooed, leaning forward on his elbows. “Did you really think that Eddie wanted to work on band stuff at the mall?”

“We’ve got to work on your gullibility.” Grant piled on, as Jeff made disgusted noises in response.

“No, I saw this coming. But we do need at least two more original songs to make an EP.” It was a goal they’d chased all year and spectacularly failed to achieve.

Frustrated, Jeff added; “I don’t care if Eddie’s not on board—you two are helping me write lyrics or I will derail every D&D campaign hereafter with petty arguments."

The unspoken truth was that Eddie, much like with D&D, was a control freak when it came to Corroded Coffin. It was his band, no matter who else was a founding member (Jeff), and the moment actual work began on anything, he’d be drawn in like a moth to a flame.

As expected, Eddie took the bait.

“You’re not choosing anything without me!” He barked, finally abandoning his Steve-stalking. He spun to face Jeff, eyes alight with challenge. “And for the record, I do have an idea.”

“Is it a real one?” Jeff asked, not bothering to look up from the notebook. “Or another round of dick-and-balls limericks?”

“How very dare you make fun of my genius, that was a legitimate song!”

“You rhymed balls with walls, and dicks with bricks--”

Eddie didn’t wait for him to finish. He snatched the notebook out of Jeff’s hands, earning a glare sharp enough to kill a lesser man. “No, this one’s serious! It’s a proper track, I swear, I-- I need a pen. Jeff.” He turned to his bandmate, desperation in his eyes. “Give me your pen.”

“No.”

“Je-eeeff--” Eddie began in a whine before Grant, rolling his eyes, decided to end the nonsense by tossing one his way.

“See? Grant loves me.” He muttered indignantly as he snatched the pen and hunched over the notebook, scribbling furiously.

Words—actual, coherent words—began appearing on the page, and Jeff wisely kept any retaliatory retorts to himself. There was always the slim chance that Eddie was actually taking this seriously.

The others followed suit, falling into a hopeful silence.

Corroded Coffin prided itself on being a collaborative effort, but there was no denying Eddie was the strongest songwriter in the group. When he got inspired—or decided to stop screwing around—he could churn out stuff that felt electric. Like it had a real future and the band with it.

That was what they lived for.

“There!” Eddie declared, triumphantly shoving the notebook back at Jeff, grin practically screaming creative genius at work. “It’s rough—just a few lines and a chorus—but it’s solid. A starting point.”

Jeff snatched it eagerly, scanning the page as Gareth and Grant leaned in, eyes locked on his face.

Would this be something raw and heavy, in the vein of the few solid tracks they’d hammered out before? Something loud, fast, and undeniably metal? Or had Eddie finally given into all his threats and written them a love song?

(Gareth honestly didn’t care if it was a love song. He’d been expecting one for a while, given Eddie’s increasingly ridiculous heart-eyes at Steve.)

Except Jeff’s expression was rapidly imploding. His brow furrowed, lips flattening, until he finally slapped the notebook down on the table and leveled Eddie with an incredulous stare.

“So?” Eddie asked, practically vibrating with excitement. “Thoughts?”

“We’re not writing a song about the You-Suck Board.” Jeff deadpanned.

Oh, for the love of—

“Absolutely not!” Gareth cut in, throwing up his hands. “We already hear enough about that stupid thing. I’m not singing about it!”

The infamous You-Suck Board had been a sore spot since its inception, mostly because it involved Robin gleefully encouraging Steve to flirt with every single eligible woman who walked into Scoops Ahoy.

That he was, for what had to be the first time in his life, bombing out, appeared to only be suspicious to everyone but Robin--and, somehow, Eddie.

(“Why did it have to be flirting!” He’d snarled on the day of its creation, as Gareth had struggled to keep himself from jumping ship and hurling himself away from Van Halen. “Why couldn’t they have taken bets on anything else!?”

“I think it’s more that Steve flirts a lot given how many chicks come in to get ice cream--” Jeff had not so helpfully added.

The turn Eddie took in retaliation nearly cracked his head against the window.

“She doesn’t need to be encouraging him!”

“You realize if you just talked to him like we told you too, he probably wouldn’t be flirting with every single women that--”

Eddie took another wild turn, tires squealing in protest. Gareth abandoned any pretense of being cool and latched onto the handlebar, cursing loudly.

“And ruin our fucking friendship?” Eddie spat, knuckles white on the wheel. “Yeah I don’t think so.”

If Gareth hadn’t been busy actively praying for his life, he might’ve exchanged a long-suffering look with Jeff.

Who, unfortunately for everyone involved, was far braver—or stupider—than anyone gave him credit for.

“You know,” Jeff began, his voice surprisingly even despite the chaos, “you can’t be mad at him for flirting if you’re not willing to make a move.”

The van screeched through another corner, tilting so sharply that Gareth was convinced two wheels had left the ground. He yelped, adding another string of curses to the air.

“You can’t be mad at me either!” Jeff’s voice climbed an octave as Eddie took his frustrations out on the accelerator.

I’m not mad. Do I look mad!?” Eddie said, rather madly.

“Yes!” Jeff and Gareth both chanted, before Jeff finally smacked hard at their eldest friend's shoulder.

“That is it, you have lost driving privileges, pull the fuck over--!”)

“I’m just saying--” Jeff was trying to argue in the present, only for Eddie promptly flung himself away from the table, before dramatically stepping atop it.

He cleared his throat as they all groaned at him, Gareth scrambling to get his shit out of the way before it got stepped on.

“I declare a mutiny!” Eddie declared, voice ringing out and startling several nearby shoppers. “Mutiny from my own beloved crew! My brothers in flesh and blood!”

“Oh God, here we go.” Gareth muttered as Grant swatted ineffectively at Eddie’s pant leg.

“Have I not led you into battle? Given you victory after victory in the realms of--” He stopped abruptly, a deer in headlights, before the dorkiest smile Gareth had ever seen overtook his face.

Now the groans were for different reasons--because clearly, Eddie had been spotted by Steve.

Sure enough, when Gareth peeked over the hedge, Steve was staring straight at them.

His face lit up as he gave a small wave, and Eddie, ever the hopeless fool, couldn’t help but wave back.

Witnessing this, Grant turned and leveled Gareth with a flat look. “This is pathetic. I am officially requesting that you do something.”

“What?" Gareth sputtered in response. "Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“Why not Jeff!?”

“Because I’m his assigned conscience. Grant,” Jeff jerked a thumb in his direction. “got the right’s to his creative side and you," The finger flicked back to Gareth,  "get to tackle romance.”

“When did we all agree to this shit?!”

“Suck it up Emerson, the fates have decided.  Now sort this out before one of them pushes the other over the edge and we end up caught in the crossfire.” Jeff gestured upwards at Eddie, who had tuned this entire conversation out in favor of trading faces with Steve.

Presently his tongue was out, hands up in his classic “horned” pose.

“This is just sad.” Jeff finished, knowing damn well Eddie wasn’t listening.

“How am I supposed to fix it!?” Gareth protested but it was weak. He had a feeling it was going to come down to this--Eddie, for all his supposed edges, sure as shit wouldn’t make a move and Steve…

Honestly, Gareth couldn’t quite get a read on Steve—or whether Steve even realized he occasionally flirted back with Eddie. The guy had a crush, there was no doubt in Gareth’s mind, but having one and acknowledging you had one were two very different ball games.

And Gareth sucked ass at sports.

“Figure it out.” Grant said helpfully, and got the finger in response.

He could handle this.

He just...

Needed a plan.

Things were easier with plans--right?

(Wrong.)

xXx

“There’s something seriously wrong with this mall’s security.” Eddie announced as he barged into Scoop’s the next day, Gareth on his heels.

Steve, who’d just finished slinging ice cream to a troop of Girl Scouts, didn’t even look up.

“What makes you say that?” He asked.

“Because there’s an insane number of them, but they only seem to guard the loading dock?” Gareth answered truthfully.

it was weird that there was tons of dudes with shifty eyes and bad hairdo’s running around outside the mall--and never inside of it. Like yes sure, product shipment and shit, he got that but…

Wasn’t loss prevention focused on preventing loss in the stores? Where people like say, himself and Eddie, could pocket it?

“It’s like they’re not even trying!” Eddie scoffed, as he proceeded to empty his pockets, lining up the day’s treasure on the counter. "The one guy we saw spent the whole time talking in Russian to a delivery driver." 

That had been notable because Eddie had stolen something right in front of the guy, who had just turned away to avoid the obnoxious teenagers.

(And, of course,  gone on to speak in a terrible Russian accent for several minutes afterward.) 

They’d both stuck to small items--stickers, jewelry, and in Eddie’s case, an entire case of bouncy balls, but judging by the complete lack of reaction, Gareth had a feeling they could clear out the store and no one would even bat an eye.

It was odd, to say the least.

So was the fact that the construction company kept showing up to “fix” things. Massive semi trucks towing in materials with ‘Anodyne’ printed out in big ass letters along the side. Gareth and Eddie had spent a lunch watching one of the trucks load in, a literal swarm of people pulling out crates and sheets of metal down the largest service elevator Gareth had ever seen.

It didn’t make a lick of sense, but then, when did anything in Hawkins?

With a flourish, Eddie revealed his final treasure of the day. A button, with the words ‘Not a Prince, but I am Charming’ blazed across it in bright yellow lettering.

For you, Sailor." With an exaggerated bow and open palms, he presented it to Steve, his tone dripping with theatrical flair.

“Maybe securities just no match for you two.” Steve teased back, picking up the button and proudly pinning it to his shirt.

This caused Robin to snort loudly behind him.

She was given two different middle fingers in response.

Unfortunately, her normally sneering expression began to look dangerously contemplative the third or so time Eddie “adjusted” the button on Steve’s shirt, the two of them half slapping at each other over it and Gareth shot into damage control mode before the idiots outed themselves to her.

“Anyone else here yet?” Gareth asked, shoving at Eddie as he pretended to fight for countertop elbow space.

He was shoved back, but at least everyone seemed to get a clue, Eddie abandoning Steve’s button to slump on the counter in a way he knew Robin hated.

Steve made an obvious show of checking his watch. “Nope, but none of you freeloaders tend to show up for another hour anyway. You two are early.”

Eddie gasped, hand leaping to clutch at his chest, above his heart. ‘Steven! I know you didn’t just call me, one of your closest, bestest, friends, a freeloader!”

“You’re one of the worst offenders." Steve deadpanned. "Frankly you’d be number one if the dipshits weren’t constantly in here harassing me to let them sneak into the movies.”

Another loud gasp. “You’ve been letting the children sneak into movies and not us?”

He got a smirked at for his efforts. “You’d get caught.”

Playfully offended, Eddie’s mouth dropped open.

“And the loud shrieky one won’t!?”

“The loud shrieky one is controlled by Lucas and Max.”

“Such disrespect! After I bring you a present and everything!” Eddie sniffed. Robin was still watching them, Gareth noted, though this time it looked less confused and more like the expression on his parents face when they watched something weird happen on a nature documentary.

It was still too close for comfort.

Thankfully a proper distraction arrived, in the form of the rest of Hellfire. 

“Guess who's working that new cookie kiosk?” Stewart announced as the group breezed in, saving Gareth from having to stomp on Eddie’s foot (or start a sprinkle war or any of the other ridiculous shit he’d had to pull the last few days.)

“James Heartfiend.“ Steve said flatly. 

"It's Hetfield, which I know you know, just like I know you're mispronouncing D&D names on purpose."  Eddie told him. “Which is a sin, I’ll have you know.”

“Would this be the same kind of sin as washing dishes or--”

“No--shut up Eds--Steve!” Stewart yelled over Eddie. “Guess again! Steve!”

"I know you didn't just tell me to shut up, Stewart--" 

“Whatever you’re doing, Gary,” Jeff whispered as two different arguments broke out on top of each other, “do it faster.”

He didn’t have to specify what he meant, given how Eddie was blatantly competing for Steve’s attention.

“I’m trying.” Gareth hissed back, annoyed. “I don’t see you helping any!”

“He,"  Jeff pointed his head in Eddie’s direction, making it clear who he meant, "called me at 10pm last night because Steve finally got a You Rule point. He ranted me to sleep.”

“Well that’s not helping, is it?”

“It’s torture. I am being tortured.”

“That isn’t torture, Jeff. Torture is waking up to go on a jog with Steve only to have him derail every attempt at discussing relationships because you’re running wrong--”

“It’s Alex Copeland.” Tiff announced loudly, cutting off the increasingly loud conversation happening around them.

Silence abounded as everyone took the name in.

“I don’t know who that is.” Robin said cautiously, peering at Hellfire as if waiting for some grand reveal.

(She startled about three different people in doing so, Gareth included. They had got to get better at remembering when she was there.) 

“Neither do we.” Jeff said as he abandoned Gareth to shoulder his way to the counter, throwing a handful of bills down on it as Grant groaned in the background. 

Steve apparently, had been making ice cream while everyone was arguing, because Jeff’s usual order was handed right over in return.

The fucking overachiever.

“Honestly we don’t either.” Jeff admitted, as he began shoveling ice cream in his mouth. “Grant won’t let us see her.” 

“He’s so embarrassed about it, it’s hilarious.” Gareth added, snatching up one of the free sample spoons and stealing a bite as payment for all the comments. 

He was doing the best he could here, and given he had somehow been assigned the Herculean task of trying to get two of their closest friends to realize they liked each other, he figured Hellfire as a whole owed him.

Turns out it was pretty fucking hard to sit your good friend down for a “I know we kinda talked about it, but you do know you’re not straight, right?” conversation, and spinning it further into “also I think you have a crush on Eddie” downright impossible.

He made another go at Jeff’s ice cream.

Jeff turned, sticking up an elbow to block as he made a face. “Get your own!”

“Why bother when I can have yours?” Gareth countered, ducking around the offending elbow and moving to get back at the bowl.

The older teen turned again, resulting in a sort of dog-chasing-its-tail effect as Gareth continued to turn with him, the both of them spinning faster.

“We’re convinced it’s a fake name.” Tiffany added, completely ignoring her friend's shenanigans.

“It isn’t!” Grant protested far too loudly, blushing fire engine red. 

“So who do we think it actually is?” Steve asked, catching onto the gag immediately.

“All we know is that it’s an older woman, who “is super sweet”,” Tiff made quotation marks with her fingers, “calls him hun, and has the photobooth gig as a part time job.”

“Okay…?”

“Joyce Byers.” Jeff said loudly, before snapping his teeth at Gareth's hands in a threat to bite.

Steve broke into laughter immediately.

“What.” He wheezed, nearly dropping the scooper he was playing with.

Grant moaned like a dying thing. 

“See, our dear friend here had a small crush when he was a wee child…” Eddie started, with his usual flair.

“Which he denies to this day but he still gets all anxious if she’s around--” Gareth continued, undeterred by Jeff’s threats.

“Jonathan’s mom!?” Steve continued to wheeze, as if there was a different Joyce Byers running around.

"Lies!" Grant himself snapped. "Lies and--and slander!" 

“Grant is a sucker for cougars.” Jeff said over his protests, still spinning.

“Oh, screw you  Jeff!”

“Sorry but I can’t, Grant.” Jeff turned the other way, trying to trick Gareth out. “What would Miss Byers think?

“Gary,” Steve called out as Grant bit out more protests. “Stop pestering Jeff and come get your own.” He pulled out a bowl and shook it, just like you would to call a pet.

“I don’t have ice cream money!”

“I’m giving it to you, idiot.”

"Oh. Thanks!" 

“You guys are so weird,” Robin interrupted, standing off to the side with her arms crossed, giving the same look teenagers on TV give when asked to do something gross. 

Eddie beamed at her, to her clear disgust. “Damn right we are.”

She rolled her eyes. “Could you please go be weird elsewhere?” 

Which was not the first time Robin had made that particular plea. It wouldn't be the last, either. 

“Sorry Buckles,” Eddie said, leaning on the counter once again. “But Hellfire sticks together. You have one of us, you get all of us.”

Robin pondered that longer than Gareth thought was necessary, tilting her head in thought.

“So, if I fire Steve, does that mean I get rid of all of you?” she asked, challenging them.

Eddie tapped his finger to his chin. “Well…”

“No, no.” Steve directed the first to Eddie before spinning and stressing the second at Robin. “I need this job. No firing!”

“Pretty sure that's the manager's decision, Steve.” Grant teased, happy to throw him under the bus if it meant people stopped talking about Joyce Byers.

“She’s the assistant manager!”

“To a guy we have never met! And,” Eddie turned to Robin, as though expecting her to back him up, “as Lady Buckley just pointed out, we are here all the time. Therefore,”

He smacked the back of one hand into his palm, “I declare that there isn’t actually a manager and Robin can hire and fire as she likes!”

Steve was starting to look desperate, as though Robin might actually buy any of this nonsense. 

“Eddie.”

“No firing.” Gareth cut in, as if he had any authority on the matter, digging happily into his ice cream. 

"Fi-iine." Eddie grumbled, collapsing onto the counter with all the grace of a fallen deer. "Say, Stevie, could I possibly get some of that sweet, sweet free ice cream in mint flavor?"

Under his breath, Jeff told Gareth; "You don't deserve yours." 

Gareth didn’t respond right away, his attention caught by Eddie poking at the ridiculous button he’d given Steve—and how Steve just... let him.

It made him think about how Steve used to be—and how, in many ways, he still was when it came to anyone in his space. How different he was now.

Steve wasn’t the kind of person to seek out touch, but the Steve they saw now was much closer to the one they had grown up with—without all the “King Steve” nonsense.

He was loud. Playfully rude. Just the other day, he slapped Grant on the shoulder in excitement about some basketball game and didn’t even seem to notice he'd done it.

Eddie had done that. Hellfire had helped, absolutely, but Steve wasn’t haunting Jeff’s house or Gareth’s garage, or Grant's basement bedroom. Off-shift, the guy could usually be found with Eddie, and if not, Eddie would always know where he was.

It was why Gareth had taken the approach of talking to Steve first, instead of pushing Eddie to confess.

If they messed this up...

It could blow up not just their friendship, but all of Hellfire’s with Steve.

And that wasn’t fair.

"No, I do." Gareth muttered, trying to push away the weight of all the ways this could go wrong. "I definitely do."

When it was all said and done, he deserved far more than free ice cream, and he fully intended to collect on that.

...If he could just get Steve and Eddie to make some progress first.

xXx

On a random Sunday (or if you were Gareth, on Attempt 15 of The Dating Talk) Dustin Henderson returned from camp, greatly annoyed about his friends but looking forward to seeing Steve.

Gareth would stare, with a look on his face that could only be described as “delighted” as the two of them proceeded to perform the dorkiest handshake on Earth, complete with lightsaber noises and Steve tragically dying at the end.

“Do not tell Eddie about that.” Steve would hiss, finger pointing threateningly in Gareth’s direction.

“Swear it on my life.” Gareth would reply--only after making eye contact with Robin.

She might be Eddie’s enemy at the moment, but he figured this was a solid way to win her over—especially with Steve so hell-bent on becoming her friend.

After all, he was here for yet another round of their never-ending “feelings” talk—not that he planned on having it in front of Robin, but rather to steal Steve away during his break (and maybe score a free lunch in the process).  Getting on Robin's good side would mean fewer complaints from her about Gareth haunting Scoops—and about Gareth constantly pulling Steve away.

Too bad he’d failed once more, his frustration mounting as he made no absolutely zero progress. 

(Steve, as it turned out, had an almost supernatural ability to detonate entire conversations, and he was presently using it for evil.

A carefully placed question here, a scoffing remark about elves there, and before Gareth knew it, the bastard had sidestepped every trap and sent them careening into uncharted territory. By the time Gareth noticed, Steve was long gone.

Pinning him down at work was becoming his only option, given the older teen couldn’t just up and vanish, but even that hadn’t exactly worked out today.

Thus, Dustin’s interruption had been appreciated.

Stewart's, on the other hand, wasn’t.) 

“Steve!”

Robin glanced up, before making a face. “Oh look, here comes one of your little fanclub.”

“It’s not a fanclub, Robin."

“Yeah? Then why is he screaming your name?”

“She’s got you there.” Dustin told Steve, the traitor.

“Ste-eeve!”

Stewart was breathing hard, eyes shining as he slid to a stop in front of Scoop’s counter. With the excited air of someone who’d just scored the winning goal, he slammed a cylinder down on the counter.

One that glowed a familiar, sickening green color.

“Who sucks now!?” He bellowed, as if that part of the board had ever in any way shape or form applied to him.

“Motherfucker.” Steve cursed instead, staring at the thing in horror.

“Why Steven,” Dustin clucked his tongue with a grin. “Such uncouth language!”

“And in front of children too.” Robin added dryly.

Steve dropped his head to the counter while simultaneously raising his middle finger.

“I hate my life.” He moaned.

“No you don’t.” Eddie declared, announcing his presence by flinging Scoop’s window open with a bang! “Not when you’re a grand adventurer, setting sail on the ocean of flavor!”

Without picking up his head, Steve blindly grabbed a spoon and hurled it at him, striking the center of Eddie's forehead with perfect aim.

Gareth and Dustin both applauded. 

“Munson we talked about this, you cannot be behind the counter let alone in the backroom!” Robin shrieked, hands going to support the You Suck board as it wobbled dangerously.

(It had been modified at some point the day prior, and was now split into thirds, reading “You Rule” “You Suck” and ‘Fountain”

Underneath ‘Fountain’ was three Xs and a poorly drawn skull.

“We really need to put a leash on him.” Tiff said when she first saw it, with the air of someone whose puppy had chewed through another shoe.

“We need to burn it.” Eddie had responded darkly, and then the topic of conversation was quickly changed before he could get another rant going.)

“Hate life later. Where did you find this?” Dustin asked, reaching out as if to grab the goo, and immediately getting his hand slapped down by Steve.

“Tell me it wasn’t in the water fountain.” He added, as Eddie walked himself to the front, Robin glaring daggers at him the entire time.

“What--no!” Offended, Stewart shrieked, as Steve batted Dustin’s away a second time and promptly ended up in a slap fight.

“How did you even know about the fountain you little shit, you haven’t even been here!” He continued, clutching at his home made plaid vest like a string of pearls.

“Legendary tales travel, Stuck Stewart.” Dustin told him, eyes narrowed in concentration as he ducked and dodged. 

“Your betrayal is noted, Harrington.” Stewart snarled, correctly guessing exactly how that tale had traveled.

“Oh my God.” Dustin said suddenly, reaching out to snatch at Steve’s arm, halting him mid slap. He shook it wildly, a grin overtaking his face. “Oh my God!”

“What?” Gareth asked, because he wasn’t yet aware of what Dustin’s “I figured something out” song and dance meant yet.

“The weird code I was talking about! Steve, Steve-- I bet this is related!”

“No.” Steve said, hand ripping away from Dustin’s to slash wildly in the air. “Absolutely not.”

“Yes!” Dustin countered gleefully.

“You guys realize it’s not code, right?” Robin cut in. “The shitty noise you’ve been playing, super loudly by the way, in our breakroom for like two hours? Yeah, that's Russian.”

At their blank stares she deadpanned; “It’s a language.”

Like she thought the lot of them were stupid.

(Because she did.)

“And how do you know that?” Steve asked, and the same time Dustin spun to look at her and demanded;

“Do you speak Russian!?”

“No, but,” Robin gave them a slow, calculating smile, “I could.”

“She could.” Dustin repeated to Steve, practically beaming.

‘She could.’ Eddie mouthed sarcastically at Gareth, turning so only he and Stewart could see him do it.

Following Steve’s footsteps, Gareth threw a spoon at him.

(He missed but it was the thought that counts.) 

“What we should do is give that,” Steve pointed a single, accusatory finger at the goo vial, “to Hopper and let him know we found it at the mall. Which is a super weird place for it to be.”

Which was true. Gareth honestly hoped this was another case of some kid or teenager finding and abandoning it, and not an indication that Starcourt was involved in the supposed clean up Hopper had swore was coming.

“If this is at the mall,” Stewart said hesitantly, “Then do you think that uh, other things, might have followed it?”

“Unlikely, the mall’s too busy.” Dustin dismissed easily.

Too easily, for Gareth—he’d watched that damn Manticore disappear into the wall. If it could move like that, it could just as easily hide itself, crowded mall or not.

“What other things?” Robin asked, before making a move like she was about to grab the goo. “What even is this, anyway?”

“Drugs.” Steve said, at the exact same time Dustin answered; “Nothing!”

They turned and glared at each other while Stewart carefully pulled the vial out of Robin’s reach.

(And then Eddie’s, when he looked like he might try and grab it too.)

“We’re not really sure what it is,” Gareth told Robin. Thinking quickly, he tacked on; “but we found some earlier and the cops were interested in it. They said they’re being careful after the whole thing last year.”

“Thing? Like the Hawkins lab thing? Where people died?” Robin was looking more alarmed by the minute. “This is an ice cream shop, we can't have that in here! ”

“Well no ones going to eat it.” Steve scoffed.

“Is that a challenge?” Eddie said with a grin, making grabby hands at the vial.

“One of those Girl Scouts was licking the table the other day, someone absolutely will!" Robin's voice grew in pitch and volume, eyes wide as she stared a the goo. "What if it melts things or blows up, or--”

“Hey--hey, calm down.” Steve soothed, turning on the Harrington charm full force. He reached out, putting a hand on Robin's shoulder. “If it was going to melt don’t you think it’d have gone through the container?”

Gareth watched it happen with a raised eyebrow--he more than anyone knew Steve didn’t often casually reach out to people like that. Logic said he was doing it because Buckley looked actually panicked and Steve was a fucking softie at heart but--

Logic also said that Eddie wouldn’t read it that way.

Sure enough, Gareth cut a glance towards his best friend and found him watching Steve soothe Robin’s fears with a stiff back, hands clenched at his sides.

(Ruh-roh.)

“Not if that's a special container, Dingus!”

“Maybe she’s right.” Eddie said, voice a touch off and oh, fuck, the jealous bastard was going to make things worse.

Gareth turned to him to give him a warning look, only for Eddie to lean around him entirely.

“Maybe this container is made from a rare metal and if we open it, it’ll chew right through the floor--or a hand, even.” He grinned, a nasty looking thing, before reaching towards the vial. “Only one way to find out…”

“Eds.” Steve admonished, sending him his own warning look as Robin shrieked out a curse and Stewart danced backwards, away from the group, goo vial in hand. 

“We never did play with it.” Dustin said thoughtfully. “We should experiment, see if we can figure out what it is.”

Which was a far more terrifying sentence than anything Eddie could whip up, because unlike the older teen, Henderson meant it.

“Absolutely not!” Steve and Robin yelled at the same time, before casting surprised looks at each other.

Steve’s face broke into a smile, and for two entire seconds Robin’s looked like it might as well before she caught herself.

Eddie’s own smile sharpened in return, and Gareth groaned inwardly.

If Robin got into a relationship with Steve before he could properly intervene about all things Eddie, Hellfire was going to be in for a rough ride.

(He could already picture it.

Steve, lovestruck and oversharing in front of Eddie, leading to inevitable chaos for everyone else. The man could rival a PTA mom whose cookies were branded “fattening” when he got tangled up in a snit, and Steve dating anyone right now would cause problems--but Robin?

Who spent most of her time insulting him and Hellfire both?

Yeah.

Gareth would gladly suffer another character death in D&D than go through that.)

“Stewart, give it to Hopper.” Steve all but ordered, while Gareth and Eddie both catastrophized in different directions. “Dustin, let Robin listen to the stupid code. See if her oversized brain can figure it out.”

“Oversized?” Robin asked, though they could all tell she was still distracted by the way her eyes were glued to the glue. 

“Oh I’m sorry,” Steve's hand went to his hips, cocking them sideways the way a gangster cocked his gun. “I thought you said you could translate Russian, but if you can’t…”

Robin went from fearful to offended in an instant.

“Shut up Dingus, of course I can!”

Which was the second time she’d used that nickname in as many minutes. Eddie’s expression darkened, a storm cloud of repressed rage encircling his head, and Gareth resisted the urge to duck for cover. 

“I’ll take it to Hopper but only if someone comes.” Stewart said, seemingly oblivious to the cliff they were all hurtling towards. “That man is terrifying.”

Robin ignored him, sticking a hand out, palm facing upwards. “Give me the code." 

Steve ignored him too, in favor of egging on his coworker. “Show her the recording, Dustin, let’s see the great Robin Buckley in action.” He taunted as Dustin dutifully handed over the tape recorder. 

“Anyone...?” Stewart asked hesitantly, and Gareth made sure not to meet his gaze.

(He already had his hands full with the whole Steve-and-Eddie situation—he was not taking on Hopper too!)

“Guess I’ll go with Stewart then.” Eddie sniped, shoving himself off the counter. “Since you guys would rather play spy with the radio.”

His tone was cutting enough that Steve took notice, a frown flicking into life. 

“What's got into him?” He asked Gareth, puzzled, as Eddie stormed off, loudly commanding Stewart to follow.

“No idea.” He lied. “Now about that code…”

If he kept them all focused on it, he figured, Dustin would hang around. That would in turn, successfully derail the majority of Steve’s stupid charms--to at least delay things enough that Gareth could pin him down to finally have a talk. 

You know, if Steve finally let him do it.

(Steve did not let him do it.)

xXx

Gareth hadn’t believed it was humanly possible to learn a language that fast.

Robin Buckley, apparently, wasn’t anyone. After witnessing her rattle off full sentences with unnerving confidence, he decided he’d never question her abilities again—not for the rest of his natural life.

“I can’t speak it.” Robin corrected when she finally decoded the word they’d all been struggling over. “This is just a basic translation.”

“Yeah, but you actually understand it.” Steve said, clearly impressed. “You had most of the code translated in like, one shift.”

“It still doesn’t sound right though.” Dustin complained, staring at the white board they'd confiscated. “The week is long. The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west. A trip to China sounds nice if you tread lightly?” 

“You’re forgetting the music.” Steve pointed out and was met by a chorus of groans.

“Yes, the one you’re convinced belongs to the toy horsie ride near the movie theater.” Dustin rolled his eyes, and Gareth rolled his own right along with him.

'Horsie.' Gareth mouthed at Steve, who mouthed it back with a grin. 

Steve was this close to pulling them all towards the damn toy horse, Scoop’s be damned, but that would mean the stupid recording had been done at the mall--and what were the chances of that?

(“Honestly they’re pretty decent, Cerebro can pick up far away signals.” Henderson had started, when Steve first mentioned it, kicking off an entirely separate argument with Robin regarding radio wavelengths and other terms that flew over Gareth’s head.)

“It sounds exactly the same!” Steve protested, with all the conviction of a teenage boy who’d been wronged.

"The point I'm making," Dustin sassed back, "is that your translation sounds like nonsense." He turned to Robin accusingly.  "Ergo, you probably translated it wrong." 

Which almost sent them right back around to the start of the argument they’d been having all morning, but fortunately for Gareth's incoming headache, fate had other ideas. 

“Does anyone else think Billy Hargrove has a screw loose?” The elder teen interrupted with his usual flair, popping up in Scoop’s like a Jack in the Box after sneaking through the door.

No one jumped this time, which appeared to disappoint him greatly.

“The entire high school I suspect. Maybe some teachers. Why?” Robin asked, because she’d grown comfortable with their fast changing screwball conversations.

Gareth thought she might even secretly enjoy some of them, not that he was going to call anyone's attention to that.

Regardless, he watched Eddie warily—this was the first time Eddie had come back to Scoop’s since storming off to take Stewart and the goo to Hopper.

Which he knew they had done, because Eddie had called him afterwards, frantic for a second opinion on whether Hopper had been threatening him, apologizing, or some odd mix of the two.

(“It sounded like he was reading from a script he couldn’t remember,” Eddie had whined. “And he kept insisting he wasn’t trying to growl at me, for some reason?”

“That’s fucking weird man.” Gareth said. “You think someone put him up to it?”

Eddie hesitated, then blurted out, "You don’t think Steve said something, do you?"

"I don’t think he and Steve are that close."

"God, I hope not." Gareth could almost hear the shiver in Eddie’s voice. "Can you imagine?"

He could, actually, but he wasn’t about to share that with Eddie.

Though, the thought of Steve in Scooby Doo pajamas was kind of hilarious…

“He's lifeguarding at the pool and he seems a bit more…” Eddie trailed off, clearly fishing for the right word. “Unhinged, than usual.”

“What does that even look like?” Dustin said with a snort. “Is he spitting fire? Did he finally grow horns?”

“Maybe he ate a child.” Gareth added, with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Eddie was frowning though, instead of piling on. “He’s weird for sure.” He said, which was about as vague as he always got when it came to Billy Hargrove.

Gareth knew why. Hellfire’s fearless leader saw something of himself, or something he could have been, in Hargrove. It was that dumb little empathetic part of him that led him to being who he was--defender of nerds, king of the freaks.

A core part of him, that Gareth, and frankly all of Hellfire loved but…

Well.

Gareth had locked eyes with Hargrove once. Just passing by, in the hallways.

It felt like locking eyes with a crocodile. Power and violence wrapped up together in a way that felt instinctive--reactionary.

Not exactly something you could reason with.

Eddie saw him differently (saw everyone differently, by his very nature) but this felt an awful lot like playing with a wild animal. The only thing that determined whether you or someone else became dinner was who said animal noticed first.

“You can always ask Max, though Hargrove’s a sore spot for her.” Steve said. He too, Gareth realized, was eyeing Eddie. He had assumed their jock had brushed off the strange behavior from the other day, but maybe he was more perceptive than Gareth had given him credit for—at least when it came to Eddie.

Dustin looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“I wouldn’t ask Max about Billy.” He said, hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. Very much a first for him, given his usual “charge in anyway” attitude, and thus very noticeable.

“He’s a dick, and he’s working.” Steve dismissed with a shrug.  “Dude’s unhinged, yeah, but he has calmed down a bit.”

Gareth couldn’t have disagreed more. He’d finally gotten the real story behind the Hargrove-Harrington fight—none of the wild rumors like “Harrington tried to date Hargrove’s little sister” or “Hargrove and Harrington started a fight club." 

Now he understood why Billy kept his distance from Steve, but even that uneasy not-quite-truce felt like it could snap at any moment.

(Eddie’s uncanny ability to sense when someone was dealing with something wasn’t exactly helpful in situations like this either.

His strange little internal radar for People In Distress was sharp enough that Gareth was sure Hargrove was grappling with some sort of issue—meaning Eddie, true to form, wouldn’t just leave it alone.

Eddie had always managed to wriggle free from whatever trouble he stumbled into, but this time? This time Gareth was uneasy—probably because Steve had once shown them the too-shiny scar along his hairline, a souvenir from his own run-in with Billy.

Steve was a fighter. A tank. A goddamn paladin. He could weather hits like that and somehow keep going, battered but alive.

Eddie…

Eddie wasn’t built the same. And Gareth had no desire to see just how far luck would stretch.)

“He still buys from me.” The man himself was saying, stubborn conviction coming to life. “I’ll talk to him.”

Steve was alarmed immediately.

“Could you at least take someone with you?” He asked, and Gareth gave it to him--the guy had learned fast that was better than attempting to ask Eddie to not go at all.

“To what? Help protect me against the scary mean jock? I’ll be fine.” Eddie stuck his tongue out to blow a raspberry. “Besides, bringing someone else means I couldn’t just cut and run if he gets uppity.”

Despite all clear and present stressors, the teasing had Steve visibly relaxing.

Apparently Eddie's snits were more obvious than even Gareth had realized.

“I’d love to see you, who I am pretty sure skipped all of PE class but definitely anything involving running, manage that.”

Eddie winked at him. “Trust me big boy, when it comes to my life, I can run.”

“I trust you.” Steve said, painfully earnest. “Just…be careful, yeah? Hargrove’s not…”

He trailed off and Gareth mentally filled in the rest.

(Not sane was a strong contender, though “Not all there” was equally likely.)

“Just be careful.” Steve finished.

Eddie grinned, before reaching out and booping him on the nose.

“Always am!”

“He’s not.” Gareth said truthfully, as Eddie wiggled his way out of the store. “But I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Steve touched the tip of his nose where Eddie booped it, looking both annoyed and slightly red about it.

“Thanks.” He muttered.

“For you?” Gareth teased, trying to lighten the mood. “Anytime.”

He sent his own, exaggerated wink Steve’s way and basked in the loud boos Robin and Dustin both gave him for it.

Bonus

In the wee morning hours of 9 AM, Gareth sat on the counter of Scoop’s and tiredly watched as a group of grim men walked by with some sort of construction material covered by a tarp.

The tarp had the words ANODYNE blazed across it--or would have, had someone not taken paint and changed it to “ANAL ONLY.”

(That person might have been Gareth, not that he’d ever tell.)

“So you know how you’ve taken to calling Eddie nicknames?” Gareth started, wondering if the key to all this was just being fast enough to say it before Steve could spin them off topic.

“Yeah?” Steve said.

“You know how you don’t call anyone else by a nickname?”

“I literally called you Gary five minutes ago.” Steve refuted. “Also I’m pretty sure Tiff’s full name isn’t, you know. Tiff.”

“I don’t mean those kinds of nicknames.”

He meant the fact that Steve had decided, after months of tolerating ‘Sunshine’ ‘Sunlight’ and various other variations Eddie came up around the word “sun” he’d finally given Eddie a special nickname of his own.

A cute one even, that had made Eddie blush when he’d first heard it.

“I’m not following.” Steve told him as he flung up the gate that stood guard over Scoop’s Ahoys' entrance, with a motion so smooth Gareth was briefly mad at him for accomplishing it.

Stupid athletes and their jock powers.

“You know damn well what I mean.” He said, exasperated with all the dodging.

Something Steve must have picked up on, because he sighed.

“If you haven’t noticed, Eddie's been kind of clingy lately. Octopus level clingy.” Steve told him as he finished setting up (and Gareth in turn, did absolutely nothing to help. Hey, he wasn't the one getting paid!) 

He didn’t have much time—Robin was apparently opening, and Steve had only gotten there first because of his odd habit of going for morning runs. Since the two of them were determined to crack the stupid code today, Henderson would probably show up soon, too.

Gareth was only up this early out of a love for two friends that he better be thanked for at their wedding. He could be asleep right now but noooo--

“He’s been acting kinda weird, too." Steve continued. "He won’t say why, so I thought giving him a nickname back might make him happy.”

Before Gareth could dig into that, Steve picked up a towel and whipped it towards the younger teen. 

“Now get off my counter, I don’t want to give Robin any reason to bitch at me today.”

Gareth leapt out of the way, mindful of the towel after the first time he learned how much the damn things hurt. “Do you really care what she thinks?”

It was an honest question--Gareth had a hard time getting a read on what, exactly, Steve was trying to accomplish with her.

He got where the You Rule/You Suck board had come from.

Understood how that ballooned into a game where Steve flirted--and greatly annoyed--every chick who waltzed past.

What he couldn’t understand was why Steve was working so hard to be nice to her. From every angle, it seemed like he was trying to win her over. If that’s what Steve wanted, then Gareth wasn’t about to get in the way, but…

He needed to stop flirting with Eddie, if that was the case. Needed to be told he was flirting, and that Eddie didn’t deserve it if Steve had no intention of following through.

Steve made a face, like he was trying to decipher his own emotions. “Kind of?”

And finally, Gareth had his opening.

He pounced. 

“Do you like her?” 

“As a person I do.” 

Annoyed with the non-answer, Gareth was quick to lighten the noose. “And as a date?”

Steve wiped down the counter with the towel, once. Twice. 

“Nah.” He admitted. He averted his gaze down into the endless rows of ice cream. “It’s not like that.”

“What’s it like then?” Gareth pressed. 

Steve frowned, chewing on his bottom lip as he thought about the answer. Gareth let him, knowing he got like thi when he was actually thinking something through, and wanted to phrase it the right way.

Pity their time had run up.

“Harrington, what did I say about letting customers in here before we’re officially open!?” Robin snapped as she strode through the back doors, sending a glare Gareth’s way.

“Gary said he wanted to apply to work for us.” Steve returned, sending a downright evil smirk Gareth’s way. “So technically he’s not a customer.”

Robin stopped dead in her tracks to stare at them, eyes narrowed as she attempted to suss out if Steve was lying. “Really?” 

“Absolutely not.” Gareth spat. 

Then, as petty revenge for the denial of the answer he’d been chasing, tattled; “Also Steve forgot to check the walk in.”

Gareth!” Steve called, twisting the towel in his hands like a weapon.

“Sorry, not sorry!” Gareth chanted, bolting for the exit before the towel could strike.

It wasn’t the conversation he’d hoped for, but for the moment, Steve’s little confession felt like a small victory.

A place to start.

And that filled him with absolute glee—until he ran past the construction workers, hollering apologies when he nearly knocked one over (and almost sent the entire group toppling with him).

“My bad! He called over his shoulder, hearing shouts of “Idiot!” “Stupid boy!” and something that sounded suspiciously like Russian—

Which Gareth, of course, understood. He’d spent nearly as much time on the stupid code as Steve and Robin had, after all.

He skidded to a halt, his eyes widening as he looked back at the angry crew, noticing one of the Russian-speaking security guards Eddie had mocked was with them.

There was no way Steve’s wild theory about the code being recorded in the mall was true, except...

When you combined it with the goo vial Stewart had found and the music, it started to look like it might be.

‘Well,’ Gareth thought. ‘Shit.’

[bigtreefest]

New Year Coming In

Pairing: Boyfriend! Jake Jensen x Girlfriend! Reader

Summary: You and Jake may have signed up for more than you can handle to start off the new year with a bang.

Word count: 1,514

Content/warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY, smut, p in v unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), cum eating, kissing, exhausted sex, aftercare, Jake and his glasses and his hair and his beefy body and his everything

A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR!! I hope you all enjoy this Jakey crackfic that took over my mind at 2am. Please, feel more than welcome to screech with me about it. And a special little thanks to @brandycranby for a line of dialogue.

Comments, reblogs, and asks are especially appreciated!

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Main Masterlist

The idea sounded perfect at first. Jake was happy to indulge you. Heck, it felt amazing for him, too. He got to welcome the new year with a good release, pleasing himself and the woman he loves. But oh man, if he didn’t wish he met you sooner before, this was the one thing that would get him pleading for it to be 2001 all over again, even if he had to relive the awkward years to avoid death by dehydration. Never mind how old the two of you were back then, he would’ve time traveled for it to be that year with you now.

A nice year would’ve been 2004, too. Coming four times in one session was something he could do with his eyes closed. Except he hadn’t, his eyes were peeled open, looking at the bright screen, in the times where he remembered being locked in his dark bedroom with his first laptop. Four times, easy. Really, even ten times, 2010. It would’ve had to have been parsed out over the course of the day, but he could’ve done it without complaint. Except, for the year 2025, the two of you had gotten a late start, not realizing how long and how much 25 rounds would take out of you. The agreement being 25 times, for each of you.

Not that he wanted to complain, but Jake Jensen never thought that he would’ve seen the day where he thought it was too much sex. And yet, here he was nearly drained. He laid on his back, cheeks ruddy, glasses crooked, bleached strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead as he looked up at you with hooded eyes. His pupils were dilated in bodily satisfaction, just barely able to focus on you as you bounced on top of him, chasing your 12th simultaneous orgasm.

The sheets had been discarded long ago to the side, leaving you both exposed to the air in the room that was steadily rising in temperature, the sweat on your bodies lingering.

His fingertips dug into your thighs, sore hips sloppily raising to meet yours. Just enough sensation remained in his dick to feel you begin to clench in closeness as you reached down to rub your clit, tipping yourself over the edge with Jake joining you. His eyes squeezed shut and his chest heaved, nothing coming out of him despite the sensation of overstimulation that had overwhelmed him. In fact, he had shot blanks for the last three orgasms, too.

While you both came down from your highs, puffs of humid air filling the narrow space between your mouths as you leaned down to kiss Jake, he looked up at you, his face a mix of pure exhaustion, lined faintly with dopey satisfaction, but also a little worry. He hummed against your lips, pressing his forehead to yours to get just enough leverage to speak.

“Baby, I don’t think I can get to 25. We’re at 12 and my dick is gonna fall off.”

You giggled, pulling away and placing a hand on Jake’s cheek, thumb brushing back and forth.

“Okay, okay. How about this, what if we just make it 25 total?”

Jake furiously nodded his head, grateful for the reprieve. Between the two of you now, you’d reached 24. He could get you to 25. Hopefully. He knew his body was past halfway to limp, sucked dry, but maybe you weren’t as much of a noodle. Maybe you had one more in you.

Just when he thought he could take a breather, though, the both of you looked over your shoulder at the TV that had been softly playing in the background. In the top corner by the year’s newest pop sensation was a countdown clock to the new year. It had just reached under ten minutes.

Your head snapped back forward and your gaze met your boyfriend’s, the both of you panicking with eyes as wide as saucers. You had to make your deadline and time was dwindling quickly! But Jake swiftly jumped into action, tugging your hips in a gesture to pull you up his body. There was no way he had the time to recover and go another round, but this was dire!

“Use my face. USE MY FACE!” he urged you as he frantically pulled his glasses off and set them on the bedside table. You shuffled forward on your knees, his limp dick sliding out of your puffy entrance, filled with multiple rounds of your combined release. You moved so quickly to hover over his head that it didn’t have time to seep out of you before Jake yanked you down to his mouth with a firm grip by his large hands.

In an instant, his tongue was inside you, laving at your still spasming pussy, drinking down your wetness as his nose nudged your clit, coaxing it back to a stage of readiness. In seconds, he had you whining, grinding your hips against his face, begging for more attention on your sensitive nub. Jake could tell exactly what you needed, moving his mouth upwards, goatee lightly scratching your labia as he did so, and latched on to your clit, tongue working in tandem with the suction he was creating.

As if he still weren’t close enough to you, he used his hands to press on your plush thighs, squeezing you closer to him when he sucked harder. A new wave of arousal flowed through you, confirmed by Jake’s satisfied hum that sent a shockwave out from your core and across your limbs.

Your arms flailed, searching for something to hold onto, one reaching the headboard, the other drifting down into his damp locks. As you fisted his hair, you made brief eye contact with him, a smile on his face evident by the creases at the corner of his bright blue eyes when he reached up and tweaked a nipple towards the end of his focus range. Jake could just barely make out the scene above him, squinting slightly, when you fought throwing your head back in pleasure.

You might have felt like ecstasy was about to make your body implode, but you would’ve held on for just how pretty the sight of your boyfriend was, enjoying this moment underneath you, trying to feed your insatiable appetite for him. You were so zoned in to his every feature that he caught you by surprise when he did that thing with his tongue, guaranteed to make you topple over the edge every time.

You barely caught the image of him winking at you in reassurance that he wanted you to let go as you squeezed your eyes shut and your fists clenched hard, the headboard creaking. Jake let out a groan against your pussy that sent another tingle up your spine, causing you to call out, “Ah, Jake!” when you careened over the cliff once more.

Jake broke the suction of his mouth, gently easing you off of him, his strong arms setting you into the mound of sheets that laid at his side. He had regained just enough life in his legs to jet to the bathroom quickly to clean himself up, returning with a warm, damp towel which he used to tenderly wipe between your legs. He discarded it, tossing it into the hamper as fast as he could.

Jake settled back into bed, slipping his glasses back on and looking at the countdown clock on the television which had just dipped below 30 seconds, as he pulled your naked body on top of his, a sleepy smile filling your face, eyes closed peacefully. You hummed contentedly, finding comfort pressed against his beefy torso as his one arm wrapped around your shoulders, the other hiking your knee up for you to toss your leg over his slim waist. Your head settled on his shoulder, nearly face-to-face with him, just in time for the final countdown.

Both of your gleaming smiles matched each other when the ball dropped and you lifted yourself up to kiss him, lips dancing slowly, reverently. There was no longer a rush. The two of you could just enjoy each other as you rang in the new year with a definite bang.

As you pulled away, gasping for air, you resettled yourself down with your ear right over Jake’s heart, your hand moving to idly rub over his belly as the two of you watched confetti fall over Times Square on the screen.

“Got any resolutions, babe?” you slurred.

Jake blew out a contemplative breath, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as his fingertips teased up and down your arm. He clicked his tongue in thought, “Maybe presenting the suggestion to you that we take the square root of the year and do that many orgasms instead from here on out. That way in 2064, when we’re old and wrinkly, we’ve only gotta do eight. And in 2081, our frail bones can settle for nine.”

You laughed along with his warm chuckle that rumbled his chest and nodded. “Good idea, Jakey.”

Bonus A/N: My life’s dream is to drain Jake’s body like this. Thank you.

Taglist: @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly @mercurial-chuckles @steviebbboi @thiquefunlover63

[that-hazbin]

Happy New Year's, have an AU

AU where Alastor wasn't doing the horrible things that would land him in hell, and God panicked and realized that their Grand Plan of Redemption was falling apart from this single divergence. After all the hassle and headache of getting Charlie Morningstar into existence (TEN FUCKING MILLENNIA, LUCIFER, IT TOOK YOU THAT LONG TO SHAPESHIFT A DICK???), the Grand Plan can NOT be ruined because this one soul refused to go down and play their part.

Apparently, divine omniscience isn't good enough because it can't predict a Mama's Boy. Alastor promised his mama that he'd see her at the pearly gates, and he's damn well going to keep that promise. He's channeling all of his homicidal tendencies by airing out the dirty laundry of immoral scum on his not-so-legal radio broadcast. And anonymously sending the evidence to the news. And hey, you know what? Ruining people's lives seems to be a fate worse than death, because they're forced to live in misery! Mama was right, resisting temptation DOES grant reward!

(The temptation being homicide, and the reward being a fate worse than death, if he wasn't being clear.)

God is, of course, losing it, because one of the big pawns in getting The Grand Fucking Plan to work is not doing what they are supposed to, and seems to be on the track towards heaven. Which, what the fuck? HOW. That should not be POSSIBLE with a soul like this!

(Mama Alastor is just THAT good of a parent.)

So. God has to do something drastic here, obviously. They are NOT going to wait another ten thousand years for redemption to become possible, they've already waited long enough for shit like the EXTERMINATIONS to happen, and it'll just get worse in the future if they don't hurry this along.

God decides to do as their darling son Lucifer does, and makes a deal. With Alastor.

Alastor rejects the deal. Sorry, sir, his mama's waiting for him in heaven and he refuses to disappoint her.

God: Are you serious right now. Are you serious. I'm God.

Alastor: Yes, and?

God: I could literally grant you anything??

Alastor: I want to go to heaven and spend the rest of my afterlife with my mother. YOU want me to go to hell. Literally.

God: Well, yes, BUT. Once The Plan is finished, you can totally go to heaven afterwards?

Alastor: Uh huh. And how long do you anticipate this plan to take?

God, knowing full well that Charlie is mentally a teenager right now and is in no position to be making her dreams a reality for at least another century: UM.

Alastor: No deal, I'm not leaving my mama waiting.

To think, The Creator of All is DESPERATELY trying to get the cooperation of a mere mortal. Alastor is completely unmoved, and has made it clear that he only cares about his mother and her happiness. Which brings an idea to mind...

God: I could... make your mother a powerful figure in heaven?

Alastor: What? What use is power in heaven, isn't it already a paradise?

God: Uh. No, actually, otherwise heaven wouldn't be committing yearly genocide. Not all angels are virtuous, despite my best efforts.

Alastor: EXCUSE ME?!

Getting a deal was a lot easier after that.

Alastor kills a man (ONLY ONE, he can't disappoint his mama any further than that...) and then gets himself sent to hell. Fortunately, his deal grants him quite a lot of power to protect himself with! Unfortunately, he has a direct line of communication with God via sound waves. He hears God in his head. All. The. Time.

He has REGRETS.

All God seems to talk about is their favorite child, Lucifer, and The Plan. It is distracting and EXTREMELY annoying. Alastor knows more about Lucifer than any mortal in the universe, and he HATES IT.

[kurishiri]

Premium END ┊ Wrapped in a Wicked Romance —Darius Vogel—

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to narrative flow or characterization purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but please don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— cw: depiction of drowning and near-death experience. p.s., i left a new years message in the end!

——Care to see what said ‘most unfortunate’ future is as well?

—— Alleyway ——

(…was what Darius said. It’s almost like…)

(Whatever is approaching upon that gentleman would be his most unfortunate future.)

Looking on at the gentleman’s back down the alleyway, I felt my skin stand on edge.

The gentleman, who appeared to be of high social status with his refined attire and fine mustache,

walked toward the poor district, playing into the premonition of his fate.

(Why here, of all places? It hardly fits him...)

While I held my own doubts, we chased after him, not flinching once from the darkness, and——

—— Sewer ——

(...Whoa.)

Upon stepping inside, we were greeted with the roaring sound of flowing water.

And from the waterway flowing on one side, I could pick up a pungent odor.

Darius: This smell is awful. My nose may as well wrinkle up from it.

D: I have a really good sense of smell, so just being here’s enough to make me dizzy.

(Come to think of it, while looking for the mille feuille, it looked like he was sniffing it out...)

(So he found that patissiere through his sense of smell?)

While thinking so, all of a sudden, I heard the gentleman’s voice from up ahead.

Gentleman: Whoa——

A group of rats gathered at his feet surprised the gentleman so much, his foot slipped...

(Ah——!)

His form fell in, as though he were being sucked into the flowing waterway.

When we ran up to him, the man was writhing, bobbing up and down within the dirty waters.

Gentleman: P-please...help me...gh...

The gentleman, seeming desperate, reached a hand out to us.

Kate: Darius, we have to save him, or he’ll end up drowning... wait, what are you doing?

Darius: Just curious about a little something.

Darius didn’t approach the man, instead reaching for the bag the gentleman was holding and started to rummage through it.

Kate: Why in the world are you interested in a bag when another person is here needing to be saved!?

Darius: That man was fated to die by drowning in this dirtied water from the start. So I’ll need to see this out to the end, whether he’s a human worth living if we’re going to save him, you know.

D: ——See, look here, I found something pretty interesting.

Kate: Wh...

He took out one sharp knife after another from the bag.

And they weren’t the type used in the hospital, nor were they steak knives, nor those used by chefs.

Darius: This one’s got blood too. He probably used it recently to stab someone, I’d say.

Kate: W-what in the world...

Darius: This man is a killer.

What came out of Darius’ mouth was shocking, but he said it in such an indifferent tone.

Darius: And from the way these were used, I can tell this man’s been killing for the fun of it for a long while now.

D: And behind those fancy clothes he’s familiar with the part of town where the poor reside in, so I’d say he aimed for those who lived around here.

D: After all, if they were to disappear just like that from existence, no one would think anything of it. Insignificant, weak humans through and through.

D: Let’s see, some place like an orphanage, for example. It’s possible there were countless children who’ve been targeted by him.

D: And on top of that, he seems to be of high status in society — what a waste for society though — so it would probably just be covered up as an accident.

D: And so here we are——we have a choice to make.

Kate: A choice?

Darius narrowed his eyes, and as though imposing judgment, he pointed at the drowning man.

Darius: Of course I mean the choice about whether we lend a helping hand to this serial killer here.

D: What his fate will be... oh, oh, I know. I’ll let you decide his fate.

D: I’m reaaally curious what sort of choice you’ll make.

With a beaming smile, he stepped on the gentleman’s head.

Gentleman: Guagh— p-please...sa...ve...

Darius: As one of Crown, would you condemn an evil that can’t be judged? Hehe... well, Kate? What’re you going to do?

Kate: Darius, please, stop this.

Even now, it seemed as though the gentleman’s hand would slip from the edge of the waterway, and I quickly grabbed his hand.

Darius: Hmm, so you’re going to save him. Are you sure? There might be even more victims then.

Kate: Of course I don’t want that——

(So that’s why...)

Kate: If you want to be saved, then promise you won’t kill anyone else, and turn yourself in to the police.

When I turned to the gentleman and said this, he clung onto my hand, nodding over and over.

Darius: I’m here thinking he’s just nodding so he can get help. You must be an extreme goody-two-shoes if you honestly believe it.

While listening to Darius, who was speaking from above, I put more strength in to pull the gentleman’s hand.

Kate: I don’t know if those are his true feelings or not. But— I do want to believe it is.

(I have no consideration for a serial killer. But...)

Kate: Besides that, atoning with life is far more suffering than doing so with death... so, I won’t let him take the easy way out!

K: As Crown, that is how he should be condemned.

Darius: .........hmm.

D: So when all’s said and done, you believe him, huh. Humans really are foolish ones, aren’t they. Well, not that that’s any news to me.

Darius shrugged and——

Kate: Hold tight on my han... ah——

Darius: Pulling him up by yourself wouldn’t be very feasible, no?

Holding the gentleman’s arm, he pulled him out of the waterway.

Kate: hah, hah... Thank you for helping out, Darius.

Darius: Well, if you were to fall in the water and drown too, I’ll be lucky if Victor leaves it at a lecture.

D: And you seem quite important to Lord Rex too, and I’d rather not be hated by my king over something so trivial.

Kate: But even so, the fact remains that you did help me, so I want to properly give you my thanks.

Darius: Hehe, you’re so earnest it amazes me.

As for the gentleman who was drowning——while shivering, he said...

Gentleman: ...I’ll go turn myself in now.

Perhaps scared out of his wits from coming face to face with death, he admitted to his own sins and left.

Darius: A shame I couldn’t see a more grand condemnation.

As proof he wouldn’t kill more people, the gentleman had left the bag behind, which Darius kicked.

The bag and the knives inside then sank to the depths of the waterway in a matter of moments.

Darius: Let’s head back now. My clothes are all muddy and it feels awful.

(Oh, I didn’t realize, but his white clothes are...!)

Kate: I-I’m so sorry... because of me...

Darius: Indeed, ‘because of you’ is right. It’s because you chose to let that man live that I now look so terrible.

D: So take responsibility for it.

Kate: S-so you say, but how...

Darius: Oh, so I can decide that? Then I’ll give you a fitting punishment.

In the front was the captivating smile of an angel, and in the back, the roars that reverberated from the waterway.

Darius: Stay as my lover until the day ends.

With nowhere to run, I couldn’t help but shrink back where I stood——and still smiling, the angel wrapped me around with his graceful arms, which resembled the wings of a bird.

Fin.

← prev epilogue -> bitter

NOTES: happy new year, friends! 🥂✨ first off, i just want to say a big big biiig thank you to those who have left comments, asks, and messages to me! i’ll reply to them soon, but i just want to say thank you for now /gen it’s really comforting to know and get a sense of reassurance that — yes, people do read what i do, that i can have a positive impact on others’ days, and that people enjoy what i translate. i’m sorry if i did worry anyone, and i also value any discussion on the matter too. but i hope we all have a lovely 2025, and that whatever resolutions you and i have, i hope we can fulfill 🤍🤍

masterlist 🪽 ┊ ko-fi ☕️ ┊ comms 🤍

[omgkatherine01]

i neeeed a kraven smut where he’s warning the reader they can’t have sex because he won’t be able to control himself and he’ll hurt her. the reader is really submissive and innocent but he keeps smelling and sensing how turned on she is, the tension is too high and he gives in and they have really rough sex. i mean like him choking her, pinning her down, and maybe biting her. after he feels really bad for how rough he was, but he couldn’t help himself because it was all instincts from his animalistic side. i cannot stop thinking about it.

Kraven's Temptation

Pairing: Sergei Kravinoff x Fem!reader

Warning: Smut!, little bit of blood

Masterlist (requests are currently open for now)

Sergei's eyes flashed with a dangerous intensity as he growled, "We can't do this. I won't be able to control myself... I'll hurt you."

You trembled, a mix of fear and arousal coursing through your body. "I--I trust you," you whispered, your innocence only heightening his primal urges.

He inhaled sharply, catching your scent. "You have no idea what you're doing to me," he rasped, his control slipping.

Unable to resist any longer, Sergei pounced, pinning you beneath him. His strong hands gripped your wrists as he claimed your mouth in a bruising kiss. You gasped as he bit your lower lip, drawing blood.

Sergei's grip tightened as he trailed hungry kisses down your neck. You whimpered, both from pain and pleasure, as he bit down on your sensitive skin. His powerful body pressed you into the mattress, leaving you breathless.

"Mine," he growled possessively, one hand moving to encircle your throat. He applied just enough pressure to make you lightheaded as he roughly entered you. You cried out, overwhelmed by the intensity.

Sergei set a punishing pace, driven by pure animal instinct. His fingers dug into your hips hard enough to bruise as he took you relentlessly. You surrendered completely to his domination, lost in a haze of pain and ecstasy.

As the intensity built, Sergei's grip on your throat tightened. Your vision began to blur at the edges as he pounded into you mercilessly. Just when you thought you might pass out, he released your neck, allowing you to gasp for air. The rush of oxygen heightened every sensation.

"That's it, take all of me," he snarled, his voice rough with lust.

You cried out as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. Sergei growled in approval, angling his hips to strike it again and again. The coil of pleasure inside you wound impossibly tight.

"Sergei, please!" you begged, not even sure what you were asking for.

He leaned down, his teeth grazing your ear. "Come for me," he commanded.

With a strangled cry, you obeyed. Waves of intense pleasure crashed over you as your body convulsed beneath him. Sergei groaned deeply, your release triggering his own. He thrust into you a final time, holding you tightly as he spilled himself inside you.

For several long moments, the only sound was your shared ragged breathing. As the haze of passion faded, Sergei's eyes widened in horror at the marks covering your body. Bruises were already forming on your wrists and hips, and angry red bite marks dotted your neck and shoulders.

"Oh god," he choked out, scrambling off of you. "I'm so sorry. I... I couldn't control myself. I told you I would hurt you."

You winced slightly as you sat up, your body aching pleasantly. "Sergei, it's okay," you said softly, reaching for him. "I wanted it. All of it."

He shook his head, unable to meet your eyes. "No, it's not okay. I... I'm a monster. I should never have let this happen."

You reached out to gently touch Sergei's arm. "You're not a monster," you said softly. "Please don't say that."

He flinched away from your touch, his eyes filled with self-loathing. "Look at what I've done to you," he said hoarsely. "I could have seriously hurt you. I did hurt you."

"But you didn't seriously hurt me," you insisted. "I'm okay, Sergei. More than okay."

He finally met your gaze, searching your face. "How can you say that? After what I just did..."

You took his hand, placing it over your heart. "Feel that? My heart is racing, but not from fear. I've never felt more alive." You leaned in closer. "Or more wanted."

Sergei's expression softened slightly. "You truly aren't afraid of me?"

"Never," you breathed.

He pulled you into his arms, holding you as if you were made of glass. "I don't deserve you," he murmured into your hair.

You nestled against his chest, feeling safe and cherished. "Let me be the judge of that."

Sergei's arms tightened around you, his body still tense with lingering guilt. You nuzzled against his chest, breathing in his musky scent.

"I meant what I said," you murmured. "I trust you completely."

He sighed, running his fingers gently through your hair. "Your trust in me is misplaced. I lost control. My instincts took over and I..." he trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

You tilted your head up to meet his troubled gaze. "And you gave me exactly what I needed," you said softly. "What we both needed."

Sergei's brow furrowed. "How can you say that? I was far too rough. I could have seriously harmed you."

"But you didn't," you insisted. "You pushed me to my limits, yes. But you didn't go beyond them." You traced your fingers along his stubbled jaw. "That's the difference between you and a true monster, Sergei. Even in the throes of passion, some part of you was still aware. Still in control."

He caught your hand, pressing a tender kiss to your palm. "I wish I could believe that," he said quietly.

You shifted in his arms, wincing slightly as your sore muscles protested. Sergei immediately loosened his hold, concern etched on his features.

"See?" you said with a soft smile. "You're still being gentle with me now. Your instincts aren't solely about violence or domination."

Sergei's expression remained troubled, but some of the tension left his body. He carefully traced the marks he'd left on your skin, his touch feather-light.

"I never want to hurt you," he murmured.

You caught his hand, bringing it to your lips. "Then don't push me away," you said. "That's the only thing that could truly hurt me."

Sergei's eyes softened as he gazed at you. Slowly, hesitantly, he leaned in to press a tender kiss to your forehead.

"What did I do to deserve you?" he whispered.

You smiled, snuggling closer to him. "You were simply yourself," you replied. "That's all I ever wanted."

As Sergei held you close, his guilt began to fade. In its place, a fierce protectiveness took root. He may not fully trust himself, but he would do everything in his power to keep you safe - even from his own darker nature.

[dominiquelucalover]

Center of Danger | Dominique Luca x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: Your Tuesday plans are put on hold when you're caught in the middle of a bank robbery, but as if that didn't put a damper on your day, going into labor in the middle of it certainly did.

CW: fem!reader, pregnancy, labor, hostage situation, guns, death threats, death, blood, mild descriptions of violence, pre-established relationship. If any of these topics trigger you in any way, please do not read. Your wellbeing is so important.

A/N: I tried to make reader a behavioral analysis expert who works with S.W.A.T. but I don't know how well I incorporated that. ( not me trying to flex my Criminal Minds knowledge like a fucking nerd.) PS: I spent four straight hours writing this lol. and nother hour and a half proofreading and editing (and adding a whole 'nother fucking thing to the end of this jfc) (I'm having fun lol)

Your day had been going well. You went to one of your final doctors appointments before you were supposed to have the baby, you'd grabbed some of the last minute things on your baby list, and you were going over what you needed from the grocery store while you stood in line at the bank. It was one of those errands that you couldn't put off doing anymore, especially with the impending birth of your child, so it seemed easy enough to get out of the way today while you were already out and about. Unfortunately, a group of greedy, grubby-handed robbers decided to ruin those plans.

You couldn't lay on the ground like they wanted everyone to, which already irritated not only them but you too. The floor was uncomfortable as you sat against one of the desks while everyone else was forced to lay face down and not to move. It was a tense situation as the three robbers made the tellers fill their bags, one you wished would be over soon.

However, the robbers had already fucked up and got themselves stuck in the bank. A teller had sounded the silent alarm and in a fit of anger, one of the criminals shot the security officer dead. Another one freaked out because "no one was supposed to die" and seemed to be on the verge of tears, but it was hard to tell because they were all wearing plastic Halloween masks. This was turning out to be the worst bank robbery you had ever witnessed, not that you had ever actually witnessed a bank robbery but you had studied plenty.

"Shit, man! The cops are here!" one of the robbers all but growled. He turned his weapon on the tellers with a nasty glare from behind his ghoul mask. "Which one of you sounded the alarm, huh? Fucking idiots!"

He shot at the ceiling suddenly, causing people to scream. You jumped and held your belly protectively, taking a deep breath as you tried to stay calm. However, your blood pressure was already up and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. The baby was kicking, sensing your distress, and you rubbed your bump in an attempt to soothe them.

"Cool it!" another of the robbers chastised his buddy, seething with anger behind his devil mask. "You're gonna need those bullets. So chill the fuck out."

"I'll do as I damn-well please," the first one said, then walked away, seeming to look for another way out.

The freaked-out robber stayed out of the conversation, seeming more subservient to the other two. He just stood the to side, watching over the hostages like he'd been told to, hiding behind his clown mask. You knew from that if any of them were going to break first, it was him.

As things around you began to calm down, you leaned your head back on the desk and took even, deep breaths. Of course, the quiet couldn't last long.

A couple were whispering to each other a few feet away and as soon as the robber with the devil mask, who seemed to be the leader, caught wind of it, he stomped over and pointed his gun at the woman's head. "I said to keep quiet! You want me to blow her head off?"

"No, please! We'll be quiet!" the man begged.

"I should make sure you stay quiet for good," the leader said, teasing the trigger of his gun. The grin of his devil mask made the scene more unsettling.

At that moment, you felt a sharp pain in your belly and let out a heavy groan. All eyes turned to you and watched as you withered in your spot. You were caught between pain and confusion, hoping that you weren't going into labor. You weren't due for another three and a half weeks. Your baby couldn't come now, this was the worst-case scenario. Anywhere else but in the middle of a robbery would have been ideal.

The devil walked over to see what you were doing, letting out a frustrated groan. "Oh, for fuck's sake! Give me a break!"

You looked up at him as the contraction passed, irritated and not ready to give birth. You spat, "Sorry to ruin your parade!"

He pointed his gun at you but the clown ran over and pushed it down. "Dude, you can't shoot a pregnant lady!"

The leader looked at him, then walked away muttering under his breath about how this was going terribly and how the last thing he needed was a baby to mess it up further.

It was about that time one of the phones rang and he walked over to answer it, knowing it was the police outside. It was about time, but you thought that perhaps they needed a negotiator to show up, which was unfortunate for you. A few minutes earlier and you might not be in the early stages of labor right now.

"What do you want?" Devil asked brashly.

You couldn't hear who was on the other side of the call, sitting too far away. You watched closely, hoping your boyfriend was outside with his team. It would be the perfect fantasy if he came to your rescue; besides, they were the best S.W.A.T. team in LA. What were the chances that they weren't here?

The phone call only lasted about two minutes before the leader hung up having made no demands. He laughed, shaking his head. "They think I'm an idiot."

The ghoul came back into the room and grunted. "They've got the whole place surrounded! They probably have snipers ready to kill us if we walk outta here. What do we do?"

Devil thought for a moment, then gestured with his gun at the people laying on the floor. "Put them in front of the doors and windows. Use them as a shield. They won't shoot in here with hostages in the way and it'll give us time to think."

His accomplices nodded and started getting people up, guiding them with their guns to form a line around the center of the bank. The patrons followed orders dutifully and linked their arms together, their lives put further in danger by their captors.

The leader came over to you and grabbed your arm, but the clown came over and asked him what he was doing. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm getting her off her ass."

"She's pregnant, man," he said, his voice a little more confident than before. He didn't seem to like that you were there at all, but as soon as his bossy friend came near you, he jumped to your aid. "Just leave her alone."

"You questioning me?"

He seemed to think on his feet. "I'm just saying, if the cops know we got a pregnant lady in here, thye're gonna get more aggressive. They'll try harder to get in here. Think about it, man."

"Kid's got a point," Ghoul said, looking over. "She'll be our secret weapon."

Devil looked between them and shook his head, letting you go. "Fine, maybe you're right... this time. We'll see."

He walked away to make sure the wall of hostages was cooperating, looking out the glass doors and windows at the front of the bank to evaluate what his next move should be. He took slow, calculated steps, taunting the police and the hostages at the same time.

Another contraction hit you and you whimpered, holding your stomach and slightly curling up. The clown crouched down beside you, looking at you with wide eyes from behind his mask. He stuttered, "A-are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?" you asked through clenched teeth. He looked down, almost ashamed for asking the question. You would feel bad if he wasn't hiding his identity and holding a large automatic gun on his back. Once the pain passed, you breathed out. "How old are you?"

"Doesn't matter," he answered.

"Sure it does. They called you kid," you told him, making him look up at you. "Means they don't respect you."

"That's not true," he said, shaking his head. He stood up and walked away, but looked back at you as he did. That was how you knew you did it. You planted that seed of doubt in his mind.

The next call came in not that long after, but Devil made one of the hostages answer the phone, a terrified older man who had been there to help his son open a bank account. He instructed the man on what to say, telling the officer on the other end that they wanted an armored car and a one way trip out of the country for the three of them, all within the next hour. It wasn't possible, you thought, which you were sure was what they were told before the hostage was made to hangup the phone with the promise that if their demands weren't met by that time, someone else was going to die.

The time seemed to pass sluggishly. You wouldn't have known it was going by at all were it not for the contractions picking up speed. You had read all your books about pregnancy and birth, so you knew that wasn't a great sign in this particular situation. Your labor seemed to be fast approaching, but you didn't want it to be. Were this in line with your birth plan, that would be ideal. However, a speedy birth was not on your agenda for the day.

"Tick-tock, tick-tock," Devil taunted as he walked the line of hostages again. He'd been pacing behind them to needlessly remind them of his presence. It was cruel and having to watch him was intense. "Five more minutes."

"What if they get us what we want?" Clown asked, looking at his friend.

The leader shook his head. "They won't get us what we want. They'll try to bribe us with less than what we asked for just to get us outside."

"So you're just gonna kill one?"

"Yup."

A woman in line cried out at hearing this and she was snapped at to shut up by the ghoul. He held a gun to her back and laughed at her terror as she tried to muffle her cries.

Clown watched, clutching his gun to his chest, before looking at Devil. "Wasn't killing the guard enough?"

"Not until we get out of here with the money and our lives," the leader answered, then shoved him. "Now shut up and do your job."

You watched as the 'kid' shook his head and walked away, listening to the devil without another question. Paying attention to everything else around you was the only thing keeping you from going insane from the pain. It was more persistent now and you felt the baby had moved lower. It was getting harder to keep your cool as all you wanted to do was yell and kick your feet at these guys who had forced you into early labor.

You were trying not to think about the time passing, watching Devil pace back and forth behind the line. He was looking at them, gun pointed at their backs. Then, suddenly, another sharp contraction shot through you and all you could do was scream as he shot a woman in the back.

She would have dropped to the floor were it not for the two people on either side of her whose arms were linked with hers. They were told to drop her as she cried and writhed. Then Devil went to stand over her, watching her squirm on the ground and bleed, before lifting his gun and shooting her in the head. Everything stopped and grew quiet except for your cries. They echoed off the high walls of the bank, violently reminding everyone there that life came with pain.

Sweat and tears slipped down your face as people were forced to listen to you until you quieted down. The contraction passed and you were slumped against the desk once more.

The devil turned to Clown and motioned toward you. "Go make sure she's alive."

"Okay," he said and walked over to you. He put his gun on his back and crouched beside you, using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the sweat from your forehead. "You're, uh, you're getting closer to, um, having the baby, aren't you?"

You nodded, keeping your eyes forward, watching the way Devil made two hostages move the woman's body closer to the door. They were going to use her as a block in front of the door incase S.W.A.T. came running in, which made you sick to your stomach. You'd seen a lot of malicious shit, but that was a new low.

The phone rang, but no one moved to answer it. Then the devil chuckled.

"Get her on her feet," he said, looking over at you and the 'kid.'

Clown puffed up his chest. "She can't possibly-"

Devil got angry. "Don't question me! Just do it!"

Clown looked at you apologetically and put an arm around your back and hoisted you up. You cried out as you felt the baby shift lower. It was hard to walk, awkward really. But he held you up and guided you to the phone as it rang. Just as you reached the desk, it stopped, and you wanted to scream but managed to hold it in. You knew they would call back. They had to.

The clown leant you against the desk and brought its accompanying chair over to you. He helped you sit in it as his buddies scolded him, but he didn't argue back or justify his actions then. Only when you were seated did he turn to them and bark back.

"You're making a pregnant lady do all this shit when she's about to have a goddamn baby! What the hell is wrong with you?" he yelled.

Devil got in his face. "I'm the one calling the shots around here! You do as I say, and if I want that fat bitch to answer the damn phone, she will, or she and that baby won't-"

"Oh, so you're gonna kill a lady and her baby?"

"Wait a minute!" Ghoul interrupted, looking at the devil, "Who died and put you in charge?"

"I've been in charge, numbnuts!"

The argument would have continued on from there, but the phone rang. They all looked at your tired face and waited for you to comply with what Devil wanted. So, you did.

"Hello," you said.

The voice on the other end of the phone made you feel some relief as he said your name. It was Hondo. "Is that you?"

You didn't answer immediately, not wanting to put the robbers on edge or clue them in to anything.

He seemed to understand. "If you are who I think you are, say 'where's the car?' if you're not, say 'please help us.' Okay?"

"Where's the car?" you asked, eyes trained on the robbers. Devil nodded at you, seeming to like that you were apparently smart enough to understand the situation at hand - you got right to the point of things and had been paying attention. Little did he know...

"We're gonna get you out of there, okay? We're working on it," Hondo told you.

"Well work on it faster," you told him, wincing in pain. You held your belly with your free hand. You kept your mouth shut about being in labor, knowing the robbers didn't want that detail known to anyone outside. "They've already killed someone else."

"We know, we saw," he said, letting out a regretful sigh. "But our eyes can only see in through the windows. The camera system is down. How many people are left inside with you?"

You looked around the room, trying to count the number of hostages, but it was harder to concentrate on something like that. "I don't know."

"What did he say?" Devil asked.

"They want to know how many people are alive."

Ghoul huffed. "Why does he want to know?"

"I don't know," you groaned, feeling another contraction rearing its ugly head. You did know, but there was no way you could strategize what the right thing to say to them was at that moment. "They-they probably- ahh!"

Hondo said your name several times, keeping his voice even. "Talk to me, mama. What's going on in there?"

Devil came over and seethed at you, "Tell him to get us what we want or we're gonna kill another person. Then hang up."

You spoke through the pain. "Get them what they want-"

"Are you in labor?" Hondo asked, hearing the strain in your voice.

"Or they're going to kill again," you said. "Please, please hurry."

Ghoul took the phone from your hand shook, slamming it into the holder. He watched you as you grabbed the arms of the chair, digging your nails into the hard wood. You scraped it and he shook his head. "Pregnant people are weird," he mumbled.

He and the devil moved on, talking to each other about what to do next. They began to argue about it but it was short lived as they parted ways. Ghoul slammed his fist on a desk and stomped away to try again at finding a plan-b escape. Devil leaned on a desk out of view of the windows, near you, and waited.

Clown stayed with you and talked you through the contraction. His voice wavered with fear and nervousness, seemingly never been in a situation like this before, as far as pregnancy went at the very least. Once it passed, he wiped your forehead again. "What-what's going to happen if you give birth in here?"

You looked at him, unsure yourself. "Well, there will be a baby in here and we'll both need immediate medical attention. If at that point they know about that, S.W.A.T. might just do anything to get in here."

Now that Hondo knew you were in here, there was more pressure on him to get inside and ensure your safety. You knew he wasn't going to tell Luca that you were one of the hostages because it would cloud his judgement, damned be the third generation S.W.A.T. officer that he was. His girlfriend and unborn child were in the center of danger and he'd do anything to get you out of there.

Clown got you water and helped you drink it as you continued to wallow in pain. As you sat there, you knew the situation was dire. You could see out some of the windows, seeing S.W.A.T. officers gearing up. You knew that sooner or later, they were going to come inside. You also saw an armored car pulling up, but it was a great distance away from the doors.

Ghoul came back, a little bit of a skip in his step. "They got our car! Let's go!"

"Wait!" Devil said, standing from his position and walking up behind the hostages. He took a man from them by putting his arm around his neck and pointing his gun into his side. They slowly made their way to the windows so he could peer out. He seethed. "They're trying to lure us out."

When he got back to the safe zone, the devil scratched his head, clearly deep in thought. He knew they were in deep, and with your timely reminders about the impending birth of your child, their odds of getting out of here was getting slimmer and slimmer.

"Wait for them to call," he said, turning to his friends. "We tell them we're going to take a hostage with us to ensure our escape."

"Dude, they got the fucking car, why do we gotta wait?" Ghoul asked.

"Because as soon as we step anywhere near those windows, they're gonna gun us down," Devil said, shoving him. "This is why I'm in charge, because you don't think!"

"I think better than you!" the ghoul yelled. "It was my idea to come here, remember?"

"And look at where that got us! You could of picked any other bank, but it had to be this big fancy one in the middle of town!"

"The cameras are out! They can't see in here, dimwit!"

You were about to yell at them to shut up when the phone rang. Devil looked at you and nodded. As you picked up the phone, Ghoul tried to continue the argument, but the devil shoved him away and told him to be quiet.

"Hello," you said.

Hondo sighed with relief at hearing your voice. "Say 'what do you want?' if you're okay. Say anything else if not."

"What do you want?" you asked.

"Tell the brothers we have their car ready for them," he said, which peaked your interest. You looked at the robbers in front of you and it clicked. Their arguing and dynamics made sense now.

They were brothers.

"Your car is ready," you told them.

Ghoul leaned against the desk in front of you. "Tell him we want it closer!"

Devil shoved him away again. "And that we're taking a hostage with us, so if they shoot at us, they'll be killing the next innocent person."

You took a deep breath and nodded. "They want the car closer so that they can get in with a hostage."

Hondo grunted. "Of course they'd try that trick. Listen to me, okay, we're not gonna let that happen. But tell them that we have to make room to move the car, so it'll be a minute."

"Okay," you said and sighed, rubbing your belly. You were in the last stretch of contraction. You could just feel it. "They have to make room for the car to get closer, so it'll be a few minutes before you can leave."

Devil didn't say anything, only took the phone from you and hung it up. "Get ready to get out of here, boys. Make the hostages take our bags to the door."

Then he walked away.

Ghoul took control of that mini mission, bossing two of the men in line to move and hustle to get their bags full of money to the door. They dropped them off and promptly got back in line, seeing the robber's finger ever-present on the trigger of his gun.

You were leaning forward on the desk, head laying on your arms as you whined and tried to breath deeply. You tried to hold your legs closed, preventing the progression of labor in anyway you could. You cursed having worn a dress today. You tried to think about anything else but where you where in that moment and what was happening. You tried to put yourself at home, in your baby's nursery that you and Luca had spent the last few weeks putting together and decorating. It helped distract you for a few minutes until more yelling broke the illusion.

Looking up, you saw Devil and Ghoul arguing about which hostage to take with them, which was the stupidest thing you had ever seen. It made you angry as you sat there, in labor, having to listen to this. Devil wanted to take you but Ghoul wanted to take anyone else. You were at your breaking point.

However, Clown snubbed out your lit fuse. He came with more water and helped you sit up so he could bring the cup to your lips. You sipped it, thankful that he was the kindest of the brothers. From what you had observed, he had to be the baby of the three and didn't want to hurt anyone there. He was there to rob a bank, not kill anyone, and each time you were in pain, he came to your side. He took care of you as much as he knew how. Something inside of him was redeemable, you thought so at least.

"They're both idiots," you whispered to him.

He hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah... I can't believe I agreed to do this. I should have never let them talk me into this."

You nodded. "Yeah, that's true."

He leaned against the desk, staying close to you as you both listened to the argument devolve, once more, into who is in charge. It was beginning to sound like they were a broken record, but as they continued the back and forth, you heard how similar their voices were, how similarly they spoke, and you could picture them as brothers more and more. It was in contrast to the 'kid', who seemed a little more mild mannered and quiet. He only spoke against the other two when he was passionate about whatever he was fighting them for, be it the lives of the people there or your wellbeing. It made you wonder how he was a part of this family.

Suddenly, everything came to a head.

"I told you to stop questioning me!" someone yelled, followed by a round of rapid pops from a gun.

You couldn't process anything for a moment, stomach tightening and making double over, leaning onto the desk again. You held your belly, screaming with the other scared people trapped with you. The moment passed quickly, but you couldn't look up.

"Bobby, what did you do?" Clown yelled.

The devil, Bobby, turned and criticized his kid brother. "Shut up! Don't say my name, you idiot!"

"But-"

"I said shut up!" he yelled and pointed the gun at him. "Now stop asking stupid questions or you're next."

You peeked up from your arm, seeing how far Devil had devolved. In the beginning, he was semi-organized (given how shittily the robbery was planned, there was at least some effort on his behalf), but the stress of the situation and his brother's mouth had finally snapped his last nerve.

Clown backed down and slowly sank to the ground beside your chair. Bobby began pacing again.

The phone range and you answered it.

"What's happening in there?" Hondo asked.

You could feel the devil's eyes on you. "You need to hurry."

"What happened?" he said again, fearing the worst.

You let out a breath. "Someone else is dead."

"Tell them we're going as fast as we can," he said.

You looked over at Bobby. "They're going as fast as they can. Please don't shoot anyone else."

"I'll shoot whoever I damn-well please," he said and took the phone from you, putting it to his ear. "You listen here, buddy. You don't tell me what to do, got it? Now, if that car isn't at the front door in five minutes, I'm killing everyone in here."

He slammed the phone into the holder before ripping it off of the desk and throwing it across the room. He stomped off, going back to his look out position from behind the line of people. He watched the doors impatiently, seemingly unbothered by the crying people before him. Their anguish brought him no joy, unlike his now-dead brother, as it was obvious that the people were merely pawns in his game. He didn't care about them whatsoever.

You laid your head down and whispered, "He's gonna kill you."

Clown made a worried noise in the back of his throat. "No-no he won't. He-he's my brother..."

"You blew his cover. Everyone here knows his name and it won't be hard to track down a Bobby in an armored car," you said, pausing to moan and shift your seated position. You couldn't hold your legs together anymore, knowing it was dangerous. It was a feeble attempt anyway. "He's already angry and you're the only one left brave enough to stand up to him."

He whined. "I-I'm really not."

"Yeah, you are," you told him, hoping to break through to him. "You've protected me from him this whole time. That took a lot of courage, I know it did."

"But... he's my brother... The only family I have left now," he said.

You looked at him, meeting his sad eyes past the mask. "Family wouldn't put you in this position."

He stared into your eyes for a moment, then looked away in contemplation. He didn't say anything for a moment, which felt like an eternity, and then he looked at you again. "What's your name?"

"Why does it matter now?" you asked.

"Because if I'm gonna die, I'd like to know the name of the lady I protected," he said.

You didn't understand what that meant, it could mean many things, and as you felt the pain getting worse, you couldn't think very well anyway. You told him your name between heavy breathes.

He gently wiped your forehead again, talking you through the pain. Then he took off his mask, revealing his face to you, and you were saddened to see how young he was. There was no doubt he was in his early twenties but he still had a baby face and the biggest eyes you'd ever seen a man have, giving him a deer in the headlights look.

"I'm Eric."

Then he stood up and moved away from you, walking over to another desk quietly. He moved out of your sight and you couldn't move much anymore, too tired to do much of anything as it were. Despite the situation, all you wanted to do was get this over with.

Then, there was a loud thud from where Eric had disappeared to.

Bobby turned around and marched over to you. "What the hell are you doing?"

You groaned, looking up at him. "Nothing."

He seethed again, "I've about had enough of you and you're whining."

"I'm about to push a watermelon out of me, what do you want from me?"

"I want you to shut u-" BANG!

He fell to the ground in front of you, his blood splattering on the desk. Looking over, Eric had his gun trained on his brother from behind the desk a few feet away, eerily still, like he was trained for this. It made your heart ache because your stomach was already twisted. What kind of life had this kid had that led him and his brothers to this?

As he walked over to you, he yelled at the other hostages, "Go! Get out of here! Go! Get out!" They listened without hesitance and ran screaming and crying for the door.

He crouched down beside his brother's body and took the gun off of him, sliding it across the floor. He then took his own gun and push it to follow. Then he turned to you, "Are you okay?"

You nodded. "More or less."

Eric couldn't say another word before S.W.A.T. came into the bank with guns at the ready. They aimed at him and he put his arms up, already on his knees. You screamed in pain and he turned to look at you, making Hondo yell at him to stay still, but he didn't seem to hear him. If he did, he didn't listen and reached out to you.

He took your hand and let you squeeze it as the pain made you sob.

You managed to cry out, "He's unarmed!"

The team got closer and saw the truth in your words. They pulled his hand from yours despite your tight grip and handcuffed him, getting him onto his feet. While Chris and Street patted him down, Luca and Hondo came to your side.

"Fucking hell, I could kill this guy for all this," Luca grunted, clearly angry. He took your hand into his.

You shook your head. "He's a hero, believe me."

"How is he-?" Hondo asked, but was cut off by your guttural scream.

Deacon shook his head as he watched. "We need to get her out of here. Now."

The paramedics came in with their gurneys and attended to the bodies on the floor, but by the time it was decerned that they were beyond saving, everyone was busy and there was no room for you anywhere. Luca picked you up and carried you outside in hopes of finding an ambulance to take you to the nearest hospital, but they were all tending to the injured who had run outside earlier.

Tan opened up the back doors of Black Betty and called out to Luca, ushering the team over. Street helped get you inside while Tan and Chris ran to the side doors to get in. Once you were laying on the floor, Luca behind you and holding you close, everyone else piled in and closed everything up, turning on the lights and sirens.

You were screaming the whole time, crying as it became too much. Your body was telling you to push and that was all you could think about doing. Luca was trying to soothe you, telling you that you would be at the hospital soon and that it would be okay. But your baby had other ideas, they had waited long enough.

"The baby's coming!" you cried out.

"We know, we're gonna-"

"No! Now! The baby's coming right now!"

You let out another scream as you pushed. Deacon slide onto the floor and pulled your legs up onto the seats on either side of you, pushing your dress away. He ripped your underwear to get a look at how things were progressing and then looked up at Luca, Street, and Hondo, "She's right. She's crowning."

Hondo called out to the front, "Tan, pull over!"

Luca held your hands as you rested you head back against his abdomen, crying as your body guided you. Everything you'd read and come to understand was nothing compared to the way your body told you what to do.

Black Betty came to a stop on the side of the road, but it only took three more powerful pushes that the ended the pressure. You ached, but the pain was lessened dramatically. You opened your eyes to see Deacon picking up your baby, who was a little chubby for a newborn and rather long, aka big like their daddy.

Deacon gently held them and patted their back, getting them to cry and clear their airways. He smiled at them and happily said, "Welcome to the world, Baby Luca."

Street rummaged around for anything to wrap the baby in, only for Chris to pass a fresh shirt to him from the front. He thanked her and helped Deacon wrap your little angel up to keep warm before they were laid on your chest. You took her, Luca's arm coming under yours to support you both.

"It's a girl," Deacon told you and you smiled. He smiled too, knowing that joy and pride well. "Congratulations."

Tan put Black Betty in gear and let everyone know he was going to start driving again, as you and your daughter needed to be taken to the hospital. After that, no one said anything. They just let you and Luca have your moment with your daughter.

Luca couldn't even speak. He had spent the day tirelessly trying to save hostages from a bad situation that only got worse as the minutes passed by, only to learn from Hondo that you were one of them minutes before they stormed in there. He ran to you as soon as he could and wanted to burn the robbers to the ground with how angry he was because you were caught in the middle of their idiocy. Then, as soon as he saw you were in labor, he was scared, too. However, now, all that stress and anger and fear was erased. You were safe in his arms with your daughter. He had a daughter! He was nothing my happy.

Street inevitably ruined the precious moment, but lightened it at the same time as he broke the silence. "I can't believe you gave birth in Black Betty."

The team didn't react until you laughed, which let them know they could laugh too.

"I'm just glad it wasn't in the bank," you said, the ache still in your heart for the people who were lost and the kid brother who had saved you. You looked at Hondo as you remembered him. "I wanna be there for Eric. He really did save those of us that he could."

Hondo didn't question you, because you were tired and hormonal and he knew you knew what you were talking about. He just nodded and said, "I'll talk to the DA, but for now, you just worry about that cutiepie you got, okay?"

"Okay," you said.

When you got to the hospital, you were taken to a room immediately. Not only because you were wheeled in with a baby in your arms, but because you had a team of S.W.A.T. officers escorting you. Luca went back with you and ensured you and your baby daughter were okay.

Despite being three and a half weeks early, she was healthy. She would need to stay a few extra days for observation, but that was okay with you. Both you and Luca wanted the best for her, so you knew she might need a little extra watching over because of her early arrival and the stress you were under, and you needed to recover as well. It would work out, you were sure.

Once that was cleared up, Luca sat beside you with your daughter asleep in her basinet at your bedside. He watched her with nothing but love in his eyes. He'd only been talking about how excited he was for her to 'hurry up and get here' in the months leading up to this moment. He hadn't cared if she were a boy or a girl, as you'd left finding out to be a surprise at the birth, because he was going to love his kid no matter what. You knew he was going to be an amazing father.

You watched him, tired as all hell, but couldn't fall asleep. Even after the day you'd had, you laid awake on some pain killers with a soft smile on your lips. "I love you."

Luca turned to you and chuckled. "I love you, too." He reached out for your hand and squeezed it gently. "You are the most amazing woman I've ever met, you know that?"

"You only tell me that at least once a day," you laughed softly, careful not to wake your sleeping angel.

"Well, I mean it so much this time," he told you, bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles. "You're so strong and smart and brave. What you went through today was a lot and you powered through it like a champ. And you see the good in people even in situations when it's hard to see anything but bad."

"What can I say?" you asked, not really sure what there was to say. You just read the situation like it was. And it helped you and several other people get through it. "I'm just a woman."

"Nah, you're more than that," he said and leaned in closer, kissing your head. Your eyes closed and this time they were too heavy to lift back open. "You're Superwoman."

"If you say so," you mumbled. You then fell into a dreamless sleep, getting the much needed rest your deserved.

Lowkey, I'm now attached to the backstory I accidentally gave Bobby, Ghoul, and Eric, so here it is if anyone cares. Bobby, Ghoul - who's real name is Terry, and Eric were born in a less than ideal home. Raised by a worked to the bone mother and a father who had lengthy arrest record, they were doomed from the start. Bobby and Terry were closer in age to each other than either of them were to Eric, often getting into trouble and leaving him out. When they weren't getting suspended from school, they were pushing Eric around metaphorically and literally. They would often use Eric as a punching bag when they weren't getting into fights with each other. They mother wasn't around a lot as she worked multiple jobs to keep a roof over their heads. When she was around, she was frustrated and tired, often getting angry at them for little problems like leaving their shoes out for her to trip over and bigger issues like getting kicked out of school. Their father was in and out of jail for most of their lives, but when he was around, he taught them how to shoot, steal, and hot wire cars. Averse to these activities, Eric was once again the odd one out and often the target of his brothers' criticism. Their father often got drunk and ranted to his sons about his drawbacks in life, often blaming others. Due to this unstable environment, it was no wonder the brothers turned out the way they did. Bobby followed in their father's footsteps, often helping their old man with his criminal endeavors when he could. After their father's untimely death at the hands of a homeowner protecting himself after he broke into the house, Bobby was angry. He went on a bend of drinking and crime, ending him up in jail where he made friends. Once he was out, he started robbing houses and small business. Terry at least finished high school and got a job as a mechanic, which was stable enough for a while. He started to doing shotty work for cheap and got fired once his boss found out. He did a number of odd jobs after that. Eric was on the right track but couldn't catch a break. With a grant, he was able to start college but had to leave after his mother became ill. He was almost done with college when he dropped out to take care of her, but it was fruitless. He didn't blame his mom but rather the bad hand life had dealt him, but didn't grow very bitter. He got a shitty job and went about his life. However, their mother's death is what brought the brothers back together. It was several months after the funeral that Bobby came around with the idea to rob a bank. Terry was crashing on Eric's couch at the time and liked the idea, immediately liking the idea of free money and getting to go anywhere they wanted. The two oldest brothers talked Eric into it, telling him they could go live their dream lives and get out of the shambles they called a life. Plus, they were brothers, the only family he had left, was he really gonna left them do it alone?

And yeah, that's what I got for the bank robbing brothers. If it doesn't make any sense, I came up with all of this over the span of 8 hours and little to no sleep.