#part 25

[41protons]

I fear to imagine what would happen if John was to meet his alternate self

Bonus:

[saffusthings]

second chances

mob boss! lando norris x reader

part twenty-five: here in spirit

word count: 4.1k (sorry, i tried to make it shorter)

warnings: mentions of drugs, allusions of drugs being used without consent, allusions of coerced sex work, unwanted touch/harassment

twenty-four | twenty-five | twenty-six

The air in São Paulo was thick with humidity and the smell of gasoline and hot pavement, a constant buzz of life thrumming through the streets even as the sun began to dip behind the skyline. Lando sat at the back of the dimly lit lounge, a glass of whiskey in front of him, untouched. The place reeked of sweat and old cigars, the walls lined with dark wood and overpriced liquor. Clearly, he wasn’t here for the ambiance.

Lando had never understood why men like Piquet insisted on doing business in places like this—dark, overpriced lounges filled with cigar smoke and half-dressed women clinging to men with more money than morals. It was all a show, an ego trip. A way to remind everyone who was in control.

“You Monte-Carlo boys,” Piquet said, slouching back in his booth with a smirk. He swirled his whiskey, letting the ice clink against the glass. “Always think you’re the smartest in the room.”

Lando didn’t bother responding. He just took a sip of his own drink—untouched until now, because he trusted the alcohol here about as much as he trusted the man across from him.

He’d done his research. Piquet had ties to over half the cartels in the region, none of them particularly stable. The only reason Lando was even here was because Brazil was a lucrative market, and if he wanted his product to move freely, he needed a deal with the right people.

Not good people. Just useful ones.

Across from him, Nelson Piquet Jr. leaned back lazily in his chair, fingers drumming against the table as he spoke. “I’ll be honest with you, Norris. I wasn’t sure if you had the balls for something like this.” His smirk was the kind that made Lando’s skin crawl, the kind that belonged to men who thought they were untouchable.

Lando just stared, entirely unimpressed. “And yet, here I am.”

Nelson chuckled, taking a slow sip of his drink before setting it down with a clink. “So you want my network. My ports, my transport, my people. And in exchange, you come here to offer a cut of this… Noxium —which, if your numbers are real, is already eating into my market.”

Lando didn’t react. The numbers were real, and Nelson knew it. That was why he’d agreed to this meeting in the first place.

“I could just take it,” Nelson mused, something sinister brewing in his dark eyes. “Get rid of you, run the product myself.”

Lando tilted his head, feigning boredom. “Sure, y’could try.”

Something about the way he said it made Nelson’s smirk falter for just a second.

Then, just as quickly, Piquet laughed, shaking his head. “Relax, amigo. I like a businessman who has got some bite!” His eyes gleamed with something vile. 

“You’re young,” Piquet mused, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, his smirk edged with something condescending. “Smart, I hear. Ambitious. But tell me, menino—” He leaned forward, voice dropping into something conspiratorial. “Are you ruthless enough for this business? Or are you just another greedy coward?”

Lando’s fingers curled around the glass in his hand, slow and deliberate.

He didn’t respond, just let the silence stretch, let his eyes—stormy, relentless—linger on Piquet long enough to make the older man shift slightly in his seat.

Ruthless enough? Please.

Lando had grown up in the cracks of Monte Carlo, where the city’s gold-plated veneer barely covered the rot underneath. He hadn’t been born to privilege or power—just a name, one that meant nothing when you were sleeping on benches and stealing bread from corner cafés. Orphaned young, swallowed whole by the streets, he’d learned the rules fast: take before you’re taken from, strike before you’re struck, never let anyone see what you love because they will use it against you.

At seven years old, he’d held a stolen gun to another child’s chest, hands shaking from hunger, stomach clawing at his ribs. He hadn't even known if the gun was loaded. But the other kid had flinched first, so Lando had gotten to eat that night.

By fifteen, he was running errands for the men who actually ran Monte Carlo, learning which names to whisper and which to keep locked behind his teeth. By sixteen, he was orchestrating jobs bigger than any street kid had the right to. Small, underweight, overlooked, and underestimated—until he wasn’t. Until he was something else, until his name became a shadow resembling a cloaked figure with a foreboding scythe.

Piquet wanted to know if he was ruthless enough?

Lando had carved his empire out of nothing. Had turned himself from a scrawny, unwanted thing into someone that people feared, respected, obeyed. He had no illusions about what it took to survive in this world.

But as the night went on, as he watched Piquet speak—watched the way his men operated, the way he handled things—it was clear as day that this guy was so desperate he reeked of it. 

He wouldn’t know ruthlessness if it cut him across the face.

Instead, Lando found himself thinking about her.

About the way she had looked at him that night at the restaurant, warm and unguarded. About the way she had wrapped that bracelet around his wrist, completely unaware of the kind of man she was tying herself to.

She’d told him once that sometimes the system didn’t work, that sometimes someone had to do something.

He hadn’t cared at the time. Hadn’t thought it was his job to give a shit about things that didn’t affect him directly. But sitting here, listening to Piquet laugh, watching the way he took from people just because he could, Lando felt something shift in his chest.

“I think you’ll find,” Nelson was saying, swirling his whiskey in its glass, “that our friends in this region don’t take kindly to newcomers stepping onto their turf without offering something in return.”

Obviously.

Lando’s expression didn’t change. “That’s why I’m here.”

Nelson grinned, all teeth. “Right. Because you are a businessman.”

Lando didn’t respond. He just watched as Nelson leaned back, spreading his arms wide like he was holding court in his own little kingdom.

“I’ll tell you what,” Nelson continued, his voice casual. “We let you move Noxium here, we take a cut. I don’t believe I am alone in seeing…” He trailed off, eyes flickering to something behind Lando. “Other benefits.”

Lando already knew what he’d see when he turned around. Sure enough, a group of women lingered near the back of the lounge—beautiful, young, draped in expensive dresses. They weren’t here by choice. That much was clear.

Lando’s jaw tensed. He turned back to Nelson. 

“No.” His voice was quiet, but there was an unmistakable edge to it.

Nelson just laughed. “Oh, come on. No need to get all righteous about it. We are all businessmen here! We all make money in ways we don’t talk about.”

“I said, no.”

Nelson’s eyes narrowed, sensing the shift in tone.

Lando leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His voice was still calm, still controlled, but there was no mistaking the temper underneath.

“You want my product? Fine. We split the profit. But if I hear that any of my shipments get used for anything other than what we agreed on, this deal ends.” A pause, as he stepped closer, positioning himself in the Brazilian man’s personal space. His voice dropped to a chilling whisper. “And if I find out you’re running other operations through my business, I’ll put a bullet in your skull myself.”

Nelson held his gaze for a long moment, the bravado slipping just a fraction. Lando had seen that look before—the realization that he wasn’t bluffing. Still, Nelson smirked, trying to regain control. He chuckled, but there was something uneasy in it now. “Fine,” he settled, clearly displeased but unable to do much about it. “Let us talk numbers now, hm?”

“Yeah, let’s.”

Piquet smirked, leaning forward. “You want distribution, I want a cut. Simple.”

“You want twenty-five percent. D’you think I’m an idiot?”

Piquet spread his hands. “Your product moves through my people, my routes, my infrastructure. This is a fair price.”

Lando exhaled slowly. “Five. Even that should be able to feed someone as greedy as you.”

Piquet laughed, shaking his head, though there was nothing joyful about it. “Not how this works, degenerado. You are the visitor. You play by my rules.”

Lando just stared at him. A long, unimpressed silence.

Piquet’s smirk faltered slightly. “Alright, alright, for my new friend I bring it down to twenty,” he conceded.

“Ten.” Lando countered. “Final offer. Either you take it or I leave, with my goods and my money.”

Another pause. Then, finally, Piquet huffed a weak laugh. “You are… a cocky little shit, aren’t you?”

Lando didn’t answer. He just tilted his head slightly, waiting. In this lighting, it almost appeared as if his lips were curled in the ghost of a smile.

After a beat, Piquet clinked his glass against Lando’s. “Ten it is, it seems. But… know that I will remember this. And if you fuck me over, Norris, I’ll have you buried in the rainforest before anyone even realizes you’re missing.”

Shrouded in the dark, Lando responded with an easy Cheshire smile.

“Alright!,” Nelson cheered loudly, as if expected cheers and applause from his men or the showgirls. When he noticed the lack of enthusiasm, however, he was undeterred. “Let us celebrate with a drink, eh?”

The older man beckoned for the attention of one of the girls who’d been walking around, serving the other guests. Once she leaned down to hear him over the commotion, he grinned, dark eyes gleaming with excitement. “Some drinks for me and my new friend here, gatinha. And be quick about it, eh?”

Lando watched the girl—she couldn’t have been much older than twenty—nod and move to turn away, but not before Nelson grabbed her wrist. It was quick, almost casual, the kind of thing men like him did when they thought no one would care.

But Lando did. His body moved before his brain did. One second, Nelson had his fingers wrapped around the girl’s wrist. The next, Lando had his own hand clamped over Nelson’s.

Nelson barely had time to react before Lando squeezed. Hard.

“Didn’t you hear her?”

The other man’s expression twisted. “What the fuck are you—?”

“She said,” Lando seethed, voice remarkably even, “she’ll bring the drinks when she’s ready.”

A beat of silence.

Nelson stared at him, his lips parting slightly in disbelief. Maybe he wasn’t used to people telling him no. Maybe he thought Lando was just another business partner, another man willing to turn a blind eye.

Lando could feel the pulse beneath his fingers, the slight tremor in Nelson’s wrist as he tried to decide whether or not to push back. Before now, Lando wouldn’t have given a shit.

He exhaled slowly, grip firm as he kept his face unreadable.

This isn’t even my problem.

His mind flashed—gentle fingers tying a bracelet around his wrist, the warmth of her hands, the way she’d smiled and told him she wasn’t going anywhere.

Shit.

Lando squeezed just a little harder. Not enough to break anything—yet—but enough to make his point.

Nelson let go first. The girl stepped back instantly, vanishing behind the bar. Lando didn’t look at her. He only leaned back in his chair, picking up his own drink like nothing had happened.

Nelson forced a laugh, rubbing his wrist. “Such a gentleman.”

“I’m not,” Lando said simply. “I just don’t like people who think they can take whatever they want.”

Nelson smirked, but there was something wary in his gaze now. “Good to know.”

That wasn’t something he would have done a year ago – hell, even six months ago. He didn’t know what had changed. Or maybe he did.

Maybe it was the fact that somewhere else, in a much better place, there was someone who had made him think—sometimes, just for a moment—that he could be better.

It wasn’t until later, when he was getting ready to leave, that he noticed something else.

The same girl—young, barely in her twenties—stood stiffly near the exit of the establishment, eyes darting subtly between Piquet and his men. Her hands were clenched into fists, nervous and fidgety. She had the look of someone calculating an escape route.

He should’ve left. It wasn’t his business.

But something about the way her fingers trembled slightly, the way she flinched when Piquet raised his voice, even in jest—

Fuck.

She would hate him for this, wouldn’t she? If she knew. If she knew the kind of people he did business with. But maybe she was also the reason he lingered. The reason he, uncharacteristically, got involved.

He turned back toward Piquet, voice easy, careless. “She with you, yeah?”

Piquet barely glanced at the girl. “What’s it to you?”

Lando shrugged. “I’ll take her off your hands.”

The Brazilian raised an eyebrow, amused. “You want to buy her?”

Lando didn’t blink. “You said I was a visitor. Consider it a parting gift. Seems she’s more trouble than she’s worth anyway.”

Piquet laughed, then gave the girl a slow once-over. She was pretty, but he had plenty of others. After a moment, he waved a lazy hand. “Fine. Take her. But  she’s a pain in the ass, so don’t come crying to me. No refunds, how you say, hm?”

Piquet let out a loud laugh, seemingly endlessly amused by his own joke.

Lando turned to her, his voice low. “Come on.”

She hesitated. Piquet watched with mild amusement, probably waiting to see if Lando would have to force her, but he didn’t. After a second, the girl moved. Slowly at first, then with more certainty. Lando led her out without another word.

Once they were clear of the club, he finally spoke. “Where do you need to go?”

She looked up at him, wide-eyed. “You’re not—?”

“No.” His voice was flat.

A pause. Then, quietly, she said, “...My sister’s place? It’s not far, and I’ll never tell him, I swear–”

He nodded, leading her toward the car. As they stepped outside, into the humid night air, Lando glanced down at his wrist—at the frayed threads of navy and green still tied there.

Looks like she’d been a bad influence on him, after all.

Lando's internal clock ticked like a bomb. He should've been wheels up, Brazil’s neon glare shrinking in the rearview. Instead, he was stuck in this backwater place, Piquet's stench still clinging to his tailored suit.

"Mate, what the bloody hell?" Daniel drawled, leaning against the rented SUV, a picture of casual impatience. "We're missing our window. Vettel's charity thing isn't going to wait."

Lando ignored him, fingers flying across his phone screen, a frustrated scowl etching lines into his usually smooth forehead. His lips pressed into a thin line as he attempted to search something on his phone, scowled, then tried again.

Daniel's eyebrows climbed. "Seriously? We're holding up a jet for this?" A wide grin spread across his face. "No bloody way."

"Shut it, Daniel," Lando snapped, jaw tight.

"You're delaying a private flight—our escape route—for a caffeine run?" Fewtrell butt in, an eyebrow raised in uncertainty. He had an inkling, but he just wanted to be sure. "You know Monaco has coffee, right? Like, actual coffee, not whatever swill they brew here?"

Lando's glare could have frozen hellfire. "It's not 'just coffee.'" His gaze flickered away, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "It's... specific. Special or somethin’."

Daniel let out a low whistle. "Oh, special coffee. Right. I get it." 

He didn't get it, not really, but he recognized the telltale signs of Lando's obsessive focus, the kind that usually preceded a meticulously planned heist or a ruthless business move.

Why was Lando suddenly interested in souvenir shopping?

"Christ, mate," Max chuckled, slapping Lando's shoulder as they slid into the SUV. "You just stared down Piquet, the snake himself, and now you're about to throw a tantrum over a bag of beans? Overpriced, probably smuggled, beans?"

Lando rolled his eyes, gesturing for Fewtrell to finally start the car. "Are you two muppets gonna help or not?" The question wasn't an invitation.

"Wouldn't miss it!" Daniel said, his grin a wolfish thing in the dim light. The two men in the front seats knew better than to push. Lando's fixations were rarely trivial. They were the threads that held his meticulously constructed world together, the obsessions that fueled his ambition and masked the darkness beneath. 

This’ll be fun.

Lando felt slightly out of place in the warmth of the bustling streets, constantly checking his watch, aware of how ridiculous he looked trying to focus on finding coffee beans that might make a difference to her—as if she’d even care that much.

But Daniel seemed to thrive in the chaos, a natural with the locals, swapping stories and buying knickknacks he didn’t need while Lando trailed behind, his mind still reeling with thoughts of business, of the deal with Piquet, of everything else he had to get done.

Max Fewtrell lingered beside him, his stance protective, but his smile knowing.

The hunt for the right coffee took longer than expected, largely because Lando, despite his tactical brilliance, knew exactly fuck all about specialty coffee.

They made their way to a small, unassuming store that Daniel had picked out, a little café tucked between a butcher’s stall and a flower shop. The smell of freshly roasted beans hit Lando’s nose before they even walked through the door. He felt instantly out of place.

The woman behind the counter greeted them in rapid Portuguese, but Max responded smoothly, and with an exchange of a few words, they were presented with a small selection of the finest beans. Max gestured toward Lando and Daniel with a casual wave, glancing at Lando. “This’ll do. Trust me, this is the one she’s gonna want. Make sure you get a whole batch. Don’t be cheap.”

Lando raised an eyebrow. “I’m not cheap.”

“No,” Daniel said, pulling out his wallet. “But you are clueless. Trust me on this one, alright?” 

“What’s the difference between this one and that one?” Lando muttered, squinting at two nearly identical bags.

Max, to his credit, took the moment as seriously as Lando did. He crossed his arms, nodding sagely at the labels. “Think this one has notes of caramel and citrus. And…” he trails off, examining the second package. “That one says it’s more, like, nutty? With chocolate undertones.”

Lando blinked. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Daniel sighed, suddenly appearing by Lando’s side. “It means, boss, that if you pick the wrong one, she’s going to sip it, make a polite face, and say ‘aww, thanks,’ before never touchin’ it again.”

Lando’s stomach twisted uncomfortably at the thought. 

“Here.” Daniel finally tossed him a package about half an hour later, grinning wider than a kid on Christmas morning. “This’ll do the trick. The best beans in the region, handpicked by some old guy who’s definitely too proud of his product. I’m sure she’ll love it. And you?” He waggled his brows. “You’ll look like a hero. A dashing one.”

Lando stared at the bag of coffee beans in his hands, a strange, unfamiliar feeling settling in his gut. 

Mistaking Lando’s silence for doubt, Daniel spoke up. “There’s even a little postcard with it about how they roast the beans a specific way to bring out the ‘soul of the coffee.’”

Lando rolled his eyes but grabbed the bag Daniel had given him, tossing it onto the counter without another word. He paused momentarily, before grabbing another bag and adding it to his things.

Just in case.

“For the missus,” Daniel’s grinned, looking over at Lando as he spoke to the sweet cashier.

“Thanks,” he muttered, stuffing the coffee into his jacket pocket and checking his watch again. He could already hear the plane engines warming up. 

“Now can we get the fuck out of here?” 

Lando stood outside her apartment, the bags of coffee in a small grocery bag, his fingers fidgeting with the zipper of his coat. He hadn’t planned for this, hadn’t expected to get this far. It was just coffee. A simple thing. He was just doing something for her—no big deal.

Lando didn’t do things just to be nice. Niceness was irrelevant. Nice didn’t get you ahead. Nice didn’t keep you alive in his world. And yet, here he was, standing at her door, pretending he hadn’t gone out of his way in a foreign country just to get her a damn bag of coffee beans.

His shoes scraped against the concrete as he stepped forward. Somewhere in the back of his mind, something shifted.

What if, one day, it wasn’t about the coffee anymore?

What if it wasn’t even about remembering her smile or hearing her laugh—bright and unguarded, like sunlight cracking through storm clouds? What if it wasn’t about being the guy who could get her whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted?

What if it was shifting, evolving into something else entirely? Maybe it was the way she made him feel like he was more. Like he wasn’t just the sharp, calculating businessman he’d been for so long. Like maybe, just maybe, he was something human. Flawed, vulnerable. Caring.

Disgusting.

Lando knocked, the sound cutting through the quiet hallway, and forced himself to ignore the way his heartbeat stuttered slightly. When she opened the door, her face lit up immediately.

“Oh my god,” she breathed, eyes going wide as she saw what was in his hands. “You actually got it!”

She looked at the bag of coffee like it was some kind of rare artifact.

Lando held it out nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t spent the last few hours making sure to get the perfect one. As if this wasn’t the third store he had gone to. As if he hadn’t let Daniel Ricciardo, of all people, drag him around the streets of São Paulo like some lovesick idiot just to find it. As if he didn’t endure Max Fewtrell’s smug smirking and subtle innuendo for all the 11 hours and 39 minutes it took for him to be standing here. 

“’Course I did,” he said with a shrug, the corner of his mouth curling up just slightly. “It’s just coffee.”

It’s not a big deal or anythin’.

Before he could say anything else, she took a step forward, her eyes gleaming—and then her arms were around him, squeezing him into a hug.

Lando froze.

His entire instantly body locked up, every muscle turning to stone at the sudden, unexpected contact.

She was warm. Soft. She smelled like something clean and familiar, warm and sweet. Her arms wrapped around his neck, firm but easy, natural, like she didn’t even have to think about it. And that was the worst part.

She just came up to and wrapped her arms around him without hesitation, without caution. Like he wasn’t someone to be wary of.

The kind of hug that made something deep in his chest go tight. He swallowed, forcing his hands to move, resting them awkwardly against her back, stiff and unsure.

“Uh. Yeah. No problem,” he muttered, voice a little too tight.

She pulled away just enough to look up at him, her smile bright, so happy over something so small. “You actually remembered.”

Obviously, he wanted to say.

Instead, he just gave a small, disinterested shrug. “Was already there. Figured I’d grab it.”

She turned the bag over in her hands, beaming down at it, and Lando should’ve been fine.

This was fine. She was happy, and that was good. In fact, that was the whole point, right?

So why the fuck did it feel like he’d made a mistake?

He needed distance. Now.

Lando took a step back, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Alright, well. I’ll see you around.” His voice was steady now, controlled, detached.

She looked up, a little amused. “You sure you don’t want to come in? I was just about to—”

“No.” 

Too fast. Too sharp. 

He forced himself to soften it. “I’ve got stuff to do.”

“Oh. Right.” She nodded, still smiling, but there was a flicker of something—confusion?—in her eyes. She seemed to shrink back, clearly at least a little caught off guard. But who was she to assume–after all, Liam likely had places to be and things to do. He was a businessman, and businessmen were busy all the time, right?

Still, the brightness of her smile faltered momentarily, before she automatically nodded in understanding. Lando turned on his heel and walked away before she could say anything else, before his resolve could slip. He didn’t care.

Why the hell would he?

a/n: not real proud of this one, but wanted to put something out as promised. sorry if it's shitty, guys

[stardancerluv]

What the Emperor Wants

Part Twenty Five

Summary: No one, absolutely bothers Geta’s wife. She is getting more comfortable in her role as an empress.

Notes/Warning: There is a brief mention of Ceres (is the Roman goddess version of Demeter who aided in fertility and nature…simply put. Her daughter is married to Hades, when her daughter is in the underworld with him it was implied (also simply that it brought about Autumn & Winter since Demeter would miss her daughter.) This is all mentioned for the festival that Geta decided to have the people with the help of ‘reader.’ There are mentions of banishment, people removed from a household….squint there is a touch of breeding!kink.

❤️s, reblogs, feedback & comments are very welcome! Thank you for reading! I am so sorry. It took a while in posting. I had some terribly long back to back shifts at work.

“In your belly grows a seed of evil. You bewitched our emperor.”

“Please don’t speak such evil utterances. None of this is true.”

With your arm partially covered by a rich soft fabric, you covered your belly.

“I only wish for happiness and prosperity.”

“What is happening here?”

You looked past cold eyes, cruel expressions and relief filled you seeing the golden, fiery prescience of Geta.

“Sire, my husband the company has brought the a small unwanted pebble would bring upon sitting upon.”

Seeing the confusion fill the women’s face, you managed to cross the distance over to them with little hindrance. Reaching out, you relaxed once your hands felt his. You could practically feel as his eyes moved over you.

“What is disturbing your mood?”

“I don’t wish to discuss it here.”

You glanced back the women before meeting Geta’s gaze.

You watched as his eyes narrowed as he loomed at the women behind you. “Let us walk.”

“Yes.”

Most of the faces you saw appeared pleased. Good spirits appeared to be present. You did not want to dampen it. The rich scent of the food was pleasing and you enjoyed the music.

Geta’s hand squeezed your hand that held his arm. “Speak to me. I know I walked in on something unpleasant.”

“Not here while we are hosted by another.”

Concern tightened Geta’s features.

“Let us enjoy these festivities. It took careful planning. They should not control our actions. “

“You speak like empress.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words.

“I have learned from my husband.”

“I am enjoying this side of you.”

“My heart, my thoughts belong to you, our child and Rome. Not those that wish any ill tidings.”

“I grateful to have you, Rome is as well. The gods had guided us.”

*******

The two of you mingled. Your arm remained looped with Geta’s. If kept you steady and feeling safe. There dark looks and glances did not darken the time you and Geta had at the festival. It had been nice to seen flowers petals swirl and float through the air between the streams of use and beauty of the voices that sang. The food had been as good as the scents had promised.

A few times you had caught sight of Caracalla, bright as the day. His illness had not darkened his day. Dondas, kept close holding onto the rich cloths that wrapped around him. Happily chirping at him and those that spoke kindly to him.

******

As the sky began to turn shades of pink and purple as the sol, began to drift to horizon; Geta helped you into the carriage that would usher the two of you back to the royal domus. You glanced at sky, smiling it was as lovely and as vivid as the flowers that grew by the grace of Ceres. You were certain she had approved of the festival Geta had in her honor. Soon her daughter, would return to her husband Pluto and a chill would take to the air. Till then you would be grateful for the gift of motherhood she bestowed upon you.

“Ceres, blessed us with a beautiful day.” Geta said once you came to sit beside him.

You nodded. “Those were the thoughts drifting around me.”

“We both share gratitude towards the goddess.”

*******

He had not liked what he had walked in on. He was certain, those women were like hounds circling a prey. It would be addressed and swiftly.

Seeing the joy that made your eyes, face glow only shrank the knot of unease that formed in him. But the raise of a new day tomorrow, matters would be addressed.

Taking one of your small hands in his he brought the knuckles to his lips. The roughness your former life had finally faded. There was no longer the shadow of calluses or dryness. You were as soft as you deserved to be. You were always sweet smelling only now you were perfumed and oiled as you should be.

The ride in carriage was gentle. Seeing that sleep fell over you gave him the peace he needed. Punishments would be served tonight he was certain of it. The tide of Rome will change, though for the better. He knew it. He draped an arm around your side keeping you close as he mused.

******

Aelia, spoke in hushed tones as she welcomed the two of you. He didn’t particularly want to have any fretting around the two of you. He wanted to some quiet.

“Aelia, prepare our chambers and then please retire for the evening.”

She bowed. “Yes, Geta.” She continued with a soft wishing for a good evening and then disappeared down one of the passageways that led to chambers.

Once alone, he ushered you into the peristyle and he sat down beside you.

“Love, wife now you need tell what took place earlier. Those women looked like hounds on a hunt.”

His words brought a diminishing of the glow he had enjoyed but he had to know what happened in his absence.

“I enjoyed the peace.”

Your grip on his hands had tightened.

“It gave me great happiness to see how the festival entertained the people. At first when I had heard footfalls behind me I thought it was Caracalla or perhaps you were already bored by the company of the senators.”

Your sigh made the knot in him tighten.

“Before I even turned they struck your child, our child with evil words.”

“They will regret that.”

He felt you tremble.

“But Geta, this festival was meant to bring happiness and good tidings.”

“Yes, but they chose to behave like this.” He stood. “Go to our chambers. I will be there shortly.”

“Geta?”

“I cannot let them think they can behave like that towards my wife their empress.”

“Then leave them with few possessions, any excess have them given away.”

A small smile curled his lips. “As the empress wishes.”

******

Easily, he called to order his centurions. Their armor clanked and banged as they stood at attention.

“By the gods,” He swallowed, it had to be done, he mused quickly they didn’t have to be that cruel.

“And as your emperor,”

His words were sharp as he spoke. He was doing this for you, for a better Rome.

“I am ordering you to grab the households of senators Tiburtinus, Flavian, Tullius & Vallerius; the last one may put up a fight bring extra men.”

“Where are we bringing them, sire?”

“The gates of the city. This is the order of their banishment. Tell them they have lost their standing in Rome, stripped of their holdings and property.”

“And if they refuse our orders, sire?”

“Carry, drag them out. They have lost the levels of respect their families had for generations. They insulted your empress and the child she carries.”

He could see them exchange glances.

“Such actions are not tolerated. Now, forever.”

“Yes, sire.”

As a unit they all clapped a fist over their hearts.

“For our empress and the child. and the greatness of Rome.”

“Yes.” He smiled broadly.

“Now, finally they can only keep what they carry. Whatever remains? You are to distribute among their servants, their slaves have been given citizenship. He gave the leader a large sack of coins. This is for tonight. Once the orders are carried out, there will be more.”

********

You were relieved that Geta had dismissed Aelia. You did not have the strength to be fretted over. After how the day had been, you needed some quiet time. Distantly, you wandered what Geta was going to do. But you felt, assured that you would be safer. It gave you a sense of peace.

The guard gave you a nod which you returned before you went into the chambers. Sitting at your table you slowly took off the few necklaces that had laid upon you but the bracelet that Geta had given you the garden would remain on your wrist always. With care that you had seen Aelia do, you slipped and freed yourself from the luxurious fabrics that had been wound and entwined around you.

Feeling yourself relax, you laid a hand upon the soft swell of your stomach.

“Your father, the gods are protecting us. Rest assured we both love you.” You whispered.

Rising, you stretched feeling many of the knots that the day had brought loosen and disappear from you. You glanced at the door, sleepiness once again wrap around you like it had in the carriage. You were certain, Geta would not mind if you laid down before he could join you.

A sigh escaped your lips as the softness of the bed, pillows held you gently.

*******

After speaking with his guards, he felt good. His blossom, his child and Rome would be safe once again. He had not been sure about whether he could carry on as emperor but the gods favored him. He was confident in the path they had for him.

Torches flickered and illuminated a path of warmth in the cool passages as he drew closer to where you were. He twisted one of the rings on one of his fingers as he drew closer. He no longer felt the weight of his power on him. He was learning to work and move with it.

An eagerness grabbed him, a smile curled his lips. The chapter of fatherhood would be upon him. Though that no longer cast a shadow of worry upon him. He would be a good one, a fair one. They would know of all the world he can give them.

“You are doing well, by dusk your gift from myself and the empress will reach you.”

“Thank you sire.” The man clapped a fist over his heart and bowed his head.

*******

The sight of you soft and deeply asleep is what greeted as he around to their large bed. It made him smile. He laid is laurel crown on a nearby table as he took in all of you. His eyes moved from gentle curves of your hips, the fullness motherhood had done to your body.

It stirred a strong need in him for you. He would love to be one with you. Welcomed between the softness of your thighs. Shedding some of layers, he crawled over to where you laid. He pressed a kiss to a soft hip.

@honey-eyed-munson @amethyst-serenade @laura-naruto-fan1998 @screaming-blue-bagel

@kitkat80 @blondie324 @alyisdead

@hellomadamebutterfly @helsa3942 @marrowfrog @misspendragonsworld @therealjomarch @deliciousfestsalad @aspiringwhore @justalittlebitshy @littlemissholy @ruinedbythehobbit @yes7686

[omnivorousshipper]

Dog Hybrid Stone: Stobotnik AU Fic - Part 25

Summary: Robotnik realizes exactly what a heat entails

Warnings: Non-consenual touching and kissing, ABO Heat, talks of pregnancy

Part 1 Part 24 Part 26

--

Robotnik quietly cheered his own genius to put a fold out bed in his mobile lab. Initially, he was only going to have his chair and sleep in that--if he was going to sleep at all.

However, when Stone had wiggled his way into Robotnik's life, it has been suddenly become imperative that Stone be comfortable. Robotnik had even gone out of his way to add a blanket and pillow.

Now, he was thankful to have the bed.

It honestly could only realistically hold one person laying down. But, that didn't stop his two Hybrids from curling up and cuddling with Robotnik.

Since Stone and Rockwell were knocked out, all Robotnik had to do was scoop Stone up into his arms. One of the other Hybrids had done the same with Rockwell. Robotnik wasn't sure if he had been one of the people Rockwell had slept with on the base, but since the Hybrid was being respectful, he didn't care.

Carol had somehow thought ahead and brought extra sets of clothes. Robotnik had been able to maneuver Stone's body into a pair of sweats while Carol had dressed Rockwell.

He had intended to let them squeeze into the bed together; he had seen the way they cuddled in the part. However, Carol had other ideas.

"Stay with them," she insisted. "They're still in the throes of heat even sedated. They'll need someone to make sure nothing happens."

Thus, how Robotnik ended up sitting in the middle of the bed with Rockwell leaning against his left shoulder and Stone halfway into his lap, curled up tight.

He was at least thankful neither of them snored.

Bringing a hand up, he rubbed his forehead. After everything, his head was pounding. The bright lights of the lab were doing nothing to help him. Pressing a button on his gloves, the lights immediately dimmed. Blinking, Robotnik felt his own eyes falling shut.

Quickly glancing down at the two slumbering Hybrids, he didn't see any harm in drifting off with them.

--

Soft skin against his brought him back to the waking world. Gasping, he felt warm lips swallow it down as they pressed harder against his. Eyes snapping open, Robotnik's heart nearly jumped out of his chest as he processed what was happening.

Stone was kissing him.

Quite insistently, he would add.

The Hybrid moaned loudly as Robotnik felt a tongue lick at his lips. Strong hands rubbed his shoulders as Stone pressed firmly against him. Meanwhile, hands stroked at his chest before dipping lowered to caress his stomach.

Wait...

If Stone was touching his shoulders, who was touching his chest?

Jerking his head away from Stone and breaking the kiss, Robotnik panted. He quickly caught Stone's wrists as the Hybrid tried to touch Robotnik's face. Stone whined at being restrained and attempted to shove his face to catch Robotnik's lips once more.

Pulling his head away from Stone, he glanced to the left and met dark, lust-filled eyes. Rockwell's nostrils flared as they made eye contact.

Her eyes were incredibly glassy and didn't have a hint of recognition in them as she too shoved herself up and towards Robotnik.

This time, he couldn't avoid her quick enough before thin lips made contact with his. A shiver of panic ran down his spine as sharp teeth brushed against his bottom lip.

Releasing Stone's wrists, Robotnik shoved at Rockwell harshly.

"What the hell is wrong with you!?" He screeched. Panting heavily, he clutched at his chest and was tempted to wipe at his lips. Rockwell had never shown any sexual interest in him! What was going on?

He watched Rockwell land on the floor and snarl up at him, her teeth glittering in the dim light. Before he could do anything about her, another body filled his vision.

Stone's body settled into his lap. It was a familiar weight as their bodies clicked together like so many times before. Without thinking, Robotnik settled his hands on Stone's hips. Their chests were pressed against each other as Robotnik stared into Stone's eyes.

They looked just like Rockwell's.

"Please," Stone whined before shoving his face into Robotnik's neck.

"Stone!" He hissed as he felt Stone mouthing against his throat. "Stop this now!"

The Hybrid didn't obey.

Instead, his hands were slowly slipping underneath Robotnik's shirt.

"Stop!" Robotnik yelped.

Stone only paused for a moment. Needle-point sharp claws poked at his skin before Robotnik gave Stone the same treatment as Rockwell.

The whimper Stone let out as he hit the floor made Robotnik grimace in sympathy. He hated the almost betrayed expression on Stone's face.

But he had bigger problems as he saw Rockwell getting to her feet. Her eyes were narrowed and lips pulled back into a silent snarl.

"Stay!"

Pressing the sequences of buttons, he let out a the high pitch noise he had trained them on.

The effect was instantaneous.

Rockwell's ears flattened and she fell into a parade rest. Meanwhile, Stone scrambled into a kneeling position and stared up at him with pleading eyes.

Both looked like two, reprimanded dogs.

"What fuck got into you two?" Robotnik snapped, but all he received were the same guilty expressions. Glaring now, he pointed to the ground. "Kneel."

Rockwell swiftly got onto her knees, only a few feet away from where Stone stayed on his. He was hugging himself and letting out small, pathetic whines. Meanwhile, Rockwell was rubbing her thighs together and biting her lip.

Heat. Carol told him they were both in heat.

Keeping both Hybrids in his eyesight, he pulled up a screen and did a quick search. It took him five seconds to realize he had assumed wrong once more about Hybrids.

When he heard the word heat, he had thought they would be horny and their bodies in better in conditions to reproduce. Not...not....

Sex crazed zombies!

Apparently they went into a complete haze. In that time, all they could think about was trying to either impregnate or be impregnated. It all depended on who the Hybrid was and their body's capabilities.

Glancing down at his own Hybrids, he suddenly remembered both male and female Hybrids being pregnant at the facility.

Was it possible both Stone and Rockwell could get pregnant?

Clicking his tongue, he pointed to the bed.

"Rockwell, up. Stone, at my feet."

For her part, Rockwell complied but snapped her teeth at him on her way to curl up on the bed. Stone didn't even bother standing and rather crawled over to Robotnik. He leaned heavily against his legs, wrapping an arm around one of Robotnik's legs. Robotnik firmly didn't meet Stone's big, puppy dog eyes as he stared up at him.

Instead, Robotnik did more research on alpha and omega Hybrids.

Rockwell's small growls and Stone rubbing his cheek on his calf did nothing to stop the growing horror in Robotnik.

Male omegas could in fact get pregnant and female alphas could impregnate. They were completely intersex. Suddenly feeling lightheaded, Robotnik brought a hand down and ran his fingers through Stone's hair.

The motioned relaxed both of them and caused Rockwell to let out a loud huff.

"What am I going to do with you two?" Robotnik wondered aloud. Neither Hybrid answered him.

If he didn't stop them, it was possible they could impregnate each other. While the thought of both of them heavy with each other's children was an amusing one, Robotnik didn't want to deal with any puppies any time soon.

He very much wasn't about to service them himself. Neither were in their right mind and he knew Rockwell would kill him for touching her that way.

His headache was back in full force now and with a vengeance. The feeling of a hand touching his brought him out of his thoughts.

Stone was practically wrapped around his leg and had grabbed Robotnik's hand in a gentle grip.

"I know," Robotnik sighed. "I'll figure it out."

They still had two hours until they would arrive back to the base. Until then, he had two horny, mindless Hybrids to take care of.

How he wished he had brought some tranquilizers.

[fun-zone628]

But Bendy's harmless, Mug. Just look at his cute, innocent face 🥺

Part 25 see he’s calming down

<Previous = Start = Next >

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 25!!

Thank you for your patience, folks!! Now that school's done, I can finally get back to updating this with some regularity!!

I've seen a few people mention me in the last bunch of months in their posts, and I'm honestly really grateful that people haven't forgotten about me. That's the biggest reason why I'm able to still love this story and still come back and pick it up after such a long time. Thank you for your support! I hope we can all keep having fun with this together for a long time!!

Now, ON TO THE STORY!!!!!

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**************************************************************

Jeremy turns to move away, blowing a raspberry for good measure and holding in his giggles. He turns to leave, smacking his own backside as he looks back at you with his tongue out. Just a dumb, annoying teenager who has realized that the adults were bluffing the whole time and are out of cards to play. Honestly, you have half a mind to smack him. Thankfully, when he turns around, he almost runs right into Anathema – and she, being clearly smarter about this than anyone else, had made sure that when he whips around to leave, he finds himself at Eye Level. That is to say, he finds himself looking at a gorgeous woman, and his eyes happen to land right where every teenage boy would kill to have them land.

Anathema crouches to his level, and puts on a smile, letting her hair fall over her shoulders. You sidle over so you can watch Jeremy’s face, pupils dilated, and his expression drops to one of awe. It’s as close to a human-blue-screen as you’ve ever seen in your life, and it takes everything you have to keep from laughing. Thank Someone you brought Anathema with you.

“Hey,” she says to him, “Jeremy, is it?”

You watch him nod mutely, and wish you had some popcorn.

“I’ve seen your videos,” Anathema continues.

“Y-you have?” Jeremy is spellbound, cool kid bravado forgotten for a moment in the presence of stunning beauty.

“Yeah,” your brilliant witch companion says, “I think they’re really funny. I can tell you put a lot of work into them.”

To your surprise, Jeremy blushes and shrugs. “Thanks. I try really hard.” The way he suddenly makes himself small, shies away from the praise you know he desperately wants (because what teenager doesn’t), in a split second he’s gone from being the worst little brat to just being a kid. It’s an abrupt shift from one extreme to another, but that’s teenagers for you. And as annoying as he was a minute ago, it’s a sobering reminder that really, this is a kid with feelings who you’re about to get involved in something big and scary and dangerous. The worst part is you don’t really have much of a choice.

“I can tell,” Anathema says gently, “I bet you’ve even gone viral at least once.”

Jeremy shifts on his feet before he replies. His eyes are trying to look anywhere but at her. “I mean...I try. I work really hard – I even have a staff! I have a writer and an editor! I’m not like a lot of those other idiots who just do dumb shit out of nowhere! I plan these things!” To your surprise, he looks at Sardis, then you and Aziraphale and Crowley, pleading almost. Then you notice his fists clench as he drops his gaze to his feet. “I do everything I’m supposed to do to make it big, but it just doesn’t work.” He takes a deep breath as though he’s about to confess something huge and profound, and looks Anathema right in the eyes. “I’m not as cool as you think I am.”

With the effort it takes for you to hold in your laughter, you swear you’ve sprained something. Aziraphale nudges you. It takes a lot to get yourself under control, but once you do, you look at Sardis for help – to see that he is completely enthralled in the scene playing out before you. To be fair, this is probably the most entertained he’s been in a century or something. You look at Anathema instead, to see her aim a quick and nasty glare in your direction. She’s working here, stop it or you’ll ruin it. Message received. You pull yourself together, and Anathema turns back to Jeremy, satisfied.

“I’m sorry about them,” she says, “What do you mean you’re not cool?”

“I mean...I do all this work...and people watch! I have all the views to make it big, but no matter what I do or what I try – I only have twelve followers!”

This time, Crowley cracks first. Then, to your surprise, Aziraphale. Then Sardis. Only then do you let yourself join in the giggles. It’s just…and he doesn’t even know!! He doesn’t even understand! You just can’t help yourself.

“IT’S NOT FUNNY!!” Jeremy yells, he is full-on red in the face now. “LET’S SEE YOU PULL OFF THE VIEWS I DO! I BET YOU COULDN’T EVEN GET CLOSE!”

You wipe tears from your eyes just in time to see Anathema regain his attention by placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Jeremy’s boil turns to a simmer.

“I know,” she says, voice full of sugar and kindness, “What if I told you that we could guarantee you go viral? Then would you be willing to hear us out?”

Jeremy cocks an eyebrow. “You can do that?” He considers this for a minute. “Sounds fishy,” he finally says, “How do I know you’re legit?”

“I guess you’re just gonna have to try it and see for yourself,” Anathema replies with a wink, “Tell you what, here’s my phone number. Just send me the video after you’ve posted it, and we’ll do the rest. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Jeremy asks, “That...sounds fake.”

Anathema smiles and stands back up.

“Think of it more as a...leap of faith.”

***************************************************

And so, your group had given him Anathema’s phone number and sent him on his way. Now, hours later, you all are sat at a table in a local Pub And Grill, waiting for his video to come through on Anathema’s phone.

“I just can’t get over how amazing that was!” You say to her. She smiles.

“He’s just a kid. I went to school with a lot who were exactly like him.”

You’re about to press her for more, when her phone dings. All five of you gather around the small screen to watch the video that just went live.

It’s awful. Well and truly terrible. A snarky Jeremy flips a can of spray paint before painting a troll face onto the side of a building. It’s been made into a terrible music video with hip hop music about being a rebel – it’s overly edited and full of every special effect that kids definitely think are cool. A cop shows up, chases him for a bit (set to Benny Hill), before he’s arrested. The rest is shaky cam and audio as he talks his way out of the situation, and the cop lets him go. There are no faces, badge numbers, or anything official present – the cop could have been an actor for all you know. The video ends with Jeremy’s snarky face saying “Phew. Good thing I’m rich.”

Overall, it’s gross. You look at your companions and see your thoughts mirrored on their faces. All of them look like they found something gross in their cereal. Well, all except Crowley, who looks...fascinated for some reason?

“Huh,” he says, “When I made tik tok a big deal, I definitely wasn’t expecting it to work that well.”

“Wait,” you say, “Did you actually make tik tok popular, or is it one of those things you just take credit for?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Crowley replies, crossing his arms in satisfaction and leaning diagonally in his chair. You’re about to say that actually yeah, you would kind of like to know, just for giggles, but Anathema brings you back to business.

“Alright Celestials,” she says, presenting her fist. You see there are paper straws sticking out of it, “Time to draw. One of you needs to make this thing go viral.” She looks from one of them to the other. Sardis, Aziraphale, and Crowley are all looking very uncomfortable all of a sudden. Anathema holds her fist out further, insisting. “For the world.”

With a sigh, Crowley leans forward in an effort to be nonchalant, and draws first. It looks pretty long. He settles back in his chair.

Sardis draws next. He carefully considers both options before pulling his choice. It’s long.

With a groan, Aziraphale pulls the last straw. It’s short.

Crowley snorts a laugh. “Looks like the honour is all yours, Angel,” he says slyly, “It’s what you were made for after all, isn’t it? Doing the work of The Lord?”

Aziraphale sighs and, with a shudder, he snaps his fingers. He looks like he just had to swallow some very unpleasant medicine.

“I think,” Aziraphale says, “That I could do with a rather stiff drink.”

What would you like next?

Something silly and fun so I can enjoy the characters!

Plot please! It's been so long!

Sardis backstory! I've missed him!

Voting ended onOct 7, 2025

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

The poll is set for 1 week this time. It's been a while, so I want to give people a chance to find me again ^_^"

Also on the agenda, is to put this up on AO3!!

Beginning || Previous || Next

[aromanticthing]

I think Arthur should just become so violently atheist that it cancels out the presence of any god whose influence dares to get close to him. I'm sure that's how that works

[inkeexd]

I'm on part 25 of Malevolent and I need to talk about John and Arthur's respective corruption and redemption arcs.

Everyone knows that John's redemption arc mirrors Arthur's corruption arc but John explicitly states that John's redemption arc was because Arthur believed him able of redemption (it could be argued that he needed John to be capable of redemption).

I think Arthur is going to need John to help him get off his corruption arc like Arthur did for him. We hear Arthur mirroring things John said to Arthur in early parts. I think Arthur is going to have to grapple with the fact that he is now 'a monster' by his own description. I think John's going to have to go back over his argument with Arthur about calling yellow a monster.

However, that would require them to actually communicate so I'm also fairly sure Arthur's going to almost die again because that's the only time they seem to have heart-to-hearts.