#But then anything I scream will be spoilers for the fic
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shaperaverse-brainrot · 8 months ago
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little sneak peak of a Lloyd I'm drawing for my Shaperaverse pirate au
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Actually writing the fic ❌
Drawing them all and coming up with random headcanons for it ✅
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crow-with-a-pencil · 1 year ago
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Hi @naffeclipse I'm very normal about your fic. Have some frantic midnight sketches as extra kudos along with some tag rambling :)
#my ârt#crush depth#crush depth spoilers#fnaf#tw blood#tw drowning#idk how many others apply#anyways this is midnight crow coming out of the shadow realm to scream at you#first of all a cs ramble is on the way I'm still recovering from that fic too#im biting you naff im biting you so dang hard#I don't even know much about iron lung besides watching a play through but damn do you make me want to know more#just. where do I even start. the atmosphere is established so well and even though there was such a small space to work with I FELT it#I felt the claustrophobia I felt the walls and the console and the single dim lightbulb as my only solace in this death trap#the THOUGHTS#poor yn had so much time to just get lost in their head and spiral pretty much constantly#the dread. the constant overhanging dread of knowing there's a 99% chance they're not getting out of there alive and at this point#they just want to accept it and let it end bc there's hardly anything to go back to if they live#naff. look at me. reading some parts made my chest actually tighten with dread. it was so well done.#this poor human just buried in existential horror and just wanting it to end in a slightly less painful way#and the unknowable beings trapped outside who absolutely REFUSE to let that happen#god those eldritch fish were trying their hardest but just couldn't get in#yn was trapped inside while they were trapped outside and I just#I am EXPLODING the more I think about it#thinking about when they thought they were drowning and tried to breathe again#wanting to die but still having that instinct to survive#asking to be ripped apart but still cherishing their last breath of air#I'm shaking you I'm shaking you I'm dying on the floor#ough.#I'll never mentally recover from this and I want you to know I genuinely get inspired by your writing#this has been midnight crow ramblings. I just hit the tag limit. have a lovely night.
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greenleaf4stuff · 2 months ago
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Because I am taking deep dives in the river of Denial atm and still have hope that *maybe* trop could bring Adar back, I have decided to compile a list of ways he could have survived (partially inspired by this post).
These can also be used as some inspiration if anyone wants to write some fix-it fics.
Nenya's power could have 'lingered' and healed him when nobody was looking; he'd barely reverted back to his uruk appearance before the betrayal happened after all.
he might have faked his death; yes he got injuries that do not support continued survival for an ordinary person but he barely flinched when he got wounded on the battlefield before. Maybe he realised it was smarter to play dead and then work from the shadows to fight Sauron. (This would actually work as another parallel to Sauron, who was also presumed dead and returned!)
the elves could have found and healed him when nobody was looking; unlikely as it is, but maybe Gil-Galad thought he could give them important intel or recognized his elvish features and couldn't help himself?
there is a post that pointed out how Sauron is kneeling next to Adar; likely he only grabbed Adar's sword but he could in theory have used some magic. (Sauron mentioned to Celebrimbor how there were 'ways of keeping him alive' when Celebrimbor was already heavily wounded for example.) Why? The most horrific thought would be bringing back Adar through necromancy, but considering how petty and cruel Sauron is, maybe he would instead heal Adar just so the other can witness the suffering Sauron bestows upon his children as revenge. Or maybe he'd try and break Adar to get him back into his ranks - he is a skilled fighter after all.
considering this is Middle Earth, there is always the chance of some lucky coincidence or interference from a higher power, like with the eagles in the movies. An eagle might have come and picked him up to get him to safety, some unseen character could have come along and healed him, or he could have straight-up been healed by an unseen force for a certain purpose (aiding in the fight against Sauron?).
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taniushka12 · 3 months ago
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post finale b plot concept where ben (who's visiting) finds out that timothy still has like.. demonic features so to speak and he helps kristen keeping the secret from the vatican and also from david (who would 100% help her keep the secret too but also? the church's got truth detecting ppl so for now its easier for everyone if he doesnt know) so you have whatever monster of the week thing thats happening in the main plot and in the background baby shenanigans ft kristen and ben gaslighting italian people, together 😌💞
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silawastaken · 1 year ago
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i think I've genuinely just written the sweetest, cutest, most romantic, most emotionally devastating paragraphs of my life and i blame it on boygenius, skk, and melatonin side affects
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flyingwide · 2 years ago
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lying here thinking about “My caring is beside the point. I have a duty.” instead of sleeping. as one does.
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aziraphalesbookkeeper · 2 years ago
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HOW CAN I GO TO SLEEP WHEN THE PERFECT AU JUST DROPPED
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aliferous-ly · 2 years ago
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not to bnha on main but I'm thinking about fuyumi
#i havent seen all of s..6? we're on s6 right? whatever#nor have i read the manga#but i know enough spoilers to be in LOVE with my girl#and i have a fic rattling around in my brain that i dont have enough context for#so spoilers bnha manga if u care abt that#but learning that fuyumi and touya are twins Changed Me because its about the FUCKING SIBLING TRAUMA (2.0)#its about twin's quirks being switched in the womb its about being born next to your best friend and your worst enemy#its about fuyumi wanting her family to be functional instead of the fucking dumpster fire it is#because she already lost touya she cant lose natsuo and shouto too#endeavors like 'trying his best' or whatever but i dont think she.. cares all that much about him.#her being cordial is like glacial politeness. the casual wielding of words.#plus she has such an interesting character set up???#her twin brother is being brutally trained and shes a child and cannot do anything about it#her mother takes her under her wing and tries to teach her the unspoken rules of women in this household#fuyumi hears her twin soul scream bloody murder and cannot lift a finger. she must learn how to sew#then her next brother is born and she thinks of all the ways she cant protect him. but his quirk appears.. similar to hers#shes so desperately relieved. her twin receives new scars every day.#shouto is born. her and her mother stare at each other silently in the home because they know what this will mean.#fuyumi is 12 years old when her mother is sent away. her baby brother throws up because of her father pushing him too hard#fuyumi is now the woman of the house. she is 12. she is a child#touya is gone. hes dead. her twin brother died (because of her father. they all knew touyas weakness)#fuyumi is the eldest. she has to be the glue sticking them together. she makes meals for her scarred brothers.#she is silent. she is scorned for her lack of anger.#who has space for anger when you must become a mother at 12?#fuyumi is an incredible character and if the writer (horikoshi?) wasnt so SHIT at writng female character arcs maybe he would have realized#😭😭😭#ollie rambles#me being true to my tag#FUCK i love fuyumi#sibling relationships always take me tf out but these tragic ones are perfect
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blindmagdalena · 6 months ago
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Night Terrors
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1.6k homelander x reader. established relationship. pure comfort fic. remaster of this old prompt. very mild spoilers for s4 if you squint. mostly just wanted to self-soothe with some comfort/cuddle fic. gif credit.
It's been decades since Homelander last stepped foot in The Bad Room, but when he wakes from a nightmare of it in your shared bed, it's as if he never left.
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Most of the nights you spend with Homelander are peaceful. 
Tonight is not most nights.
The scream that wakes you from a dead sleep is guttural, barely human. Homelander is sitting upright, frenzied and wild-eyed, the ocean blue of them obscured by crimson glow. You're not even sure that he sees you through it when he looks at you. He's panting like he just ran a marathon, and the comforter is ripped cleanly in half, the two sides strewn on either side of him. "John," you call softly, reaching out to touch his arm, but he jerks away from your hand like you've burned him. "Don't fucking touch me," he hisses, wrapping his arms around himself. Sometimes he is small during these fits, curled in on himself, begging you to make it stop. Not tonight. Tonight he is another self, spitting rage and violence through remembered agony. A cornered animal. "I'll fucking kill you!" "John," you say again, pleading. You know he isn't talking to you. He's speaking to the ghosts of his past. "You're in our bed. You're with me. I would never hurt you. I love you, John." His name is a double-edged sword. It cuts clean through to something at the core of him in a way that “Homelander” doesn’t. Each use of it acts like a shock to his irregulated system.
You keep your hands outstretched, but you don't touch him. You show him that you aren't holding anything. Not a pen, not a notepad, not a needle. You show that you don't mean him any harm. 
God knows he's suffered enough. With the sound of your voice, the red glow of his eyes gradually dims, flickers, and then finally it goes out entirely. He's still panting, hands moving slowly down his arms, his torso, checking himself for injury. Though his body bears no scars of the pain he’s endured, his mind knows exactly where each one of them would be. Bit by bit, you watch him come back to himself. He looks around the room, taking in the evidence of your truth. Framed photos, décor, the life you’ve built together. It isn't a concrete dungeon. It isn’t a lab. It isn’t an incinerator. It's home. "Fuck," he says quietly, hiccupping the word into his palm. He says it again, louder, screwing his glassy eyes shut. The third time he says it, it's nearly a sob. It’s agony to wait, but you don’t touch him before he’s ready. You fist the bedsheets, you don’t stop talking. I’m here. I’m right here. I love you. You’re safe. You’re not sure if it’s minutes or seconds before he reaches for you. All you know is you act immediately. You move swiftly up on your knees, climbing over the ruined blankets to take him into your arms, pulling his head to rest against your chest, bringing his ear close to the beat of your heart. You hush him while you work to unstick the words from your throat, unable to help the tears that well in your eyes.
The fear and misery in him is so palpable, you nearly feel as if it’s your own. He wraps his arms around you without hesitation, pulling you to sit sideways in his lap as he weeps against you. It's taken a long time to reach this point. He used to swallow it back like bile, adamant for the longest time that you not see this side of him, this aspect of himself that he thinks ugly, imperfect, broken. You fought for this. As you hold him through these bone-deep sobs, it shatters you that it's taken him this long for him to find someone who would. "You're safe," you whisper, battling to keep the tears from your voice. "You're home. You're with me. You're safe. I love you so, so much." He rocks back and forth, choking on his sobs. “I could feel it,” he tells you, the words barely escaping the clench of his teeth. “It hurt. Every second of it, and they just–they all just watched.”
You close your eyes, tears rolling down your cheeks and disappearing into the softness of his hair. You kiss the crown of his head again and again, combing your fingers through his hair where it’s damp with sweat and your own tears. “You’re safe now,” you whisper, swallowing the lump in your throat. It isn’t enough, but these words and touches are all you have to offer him against the torment of his childhood.
His grip on you tightens. It wouldn’t take much for him to snap you in half.
That scare you? He’d asked you once. How easily I could break you?”
No, you admitted. It makes me appreciate how hard you try not to. It takes time for his breathing to even out. His hold softens, but he doesn't relinquish you. For as terrible as the nightmares are, it's the shame he experiences in the aftermath that often requires the most care. 
You rub firm circles on his back with one hand while cradling the back of his head with the other, trailing butterfly kisses along his temple, his forehead, down to his cheek. Any part of him you can reach, you kiss, murmuring quiet assurances in between, as if to imbue him with each word. Eventually, the rocking stops. He's breathing more steadily now, arms encircled firmly around your waist. He gives a shaking sigh. "Sorry," he whispers, voice strained. That's a word in his vocabulary that rarely comes up, but when it does, it is always drenched in shame. He hates himself for this. "Don't," you whisper, carding your fingers through his hair. You sniff back your tears, letting out a breath. "I asked for this. I begged you for this," you emphasize, earnest. You cup his face, angling him to look up at you. "Let me do this for you. Please. You have nothing to be ashamed of." He stares at you with large, watery blue eyes. The whites are red, strained by the force of his grief, his durability tested only by his own power. In his gaze you see damage done to him that may never heal, but your words settle over invisible scars like a soothing balm. It’s that very look of vulnerability that has driven you to this depth of love. You know his violence, his viciousness, but so too do you know the fragile man it protects.
Most of all, the scared boy beneath it all.
His grip on you flexes, his jaw clenched. The nature of your insight into him is both a blessing and a curse to him. He cannot hide from you. You know his shame, and despite how deeply he needs your compassion, your understanding, it’s something he has to bleed for every time. He’s perpetually torn between his desperation to be your perfect hero, and his soul-deep yearning to be safely vulnerable. 
If you have to, you'll spend the rest of your life convincing him that he can have both.
Finally, his shoulders sag. "I love you," he says, quietly defeated by your warmth. "I'll never hurt you. Ever." You recognize the plea in his words. He's terrified that someday it will be too much. You’ll see what everyone else sees, and your love will be tainted–destroyed–by your inevitable fear of him. You hope one day that he’ll understand why that will never happen. Someday the depths of your love will soak in as deep as the misery of his past, and he’ll be able to forgive himself for the human way his god’s heart bleeds. "I know. I know that.” You kiss the top of his head, still rubbing his back, taking your hand away only to swipe the tears from your face. “I love you, too. Every part of you."
Even the parts you hate. Gingerly, he lifts you just enough to lay you back down on the bed. He wastes no time cuddling back in against you, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck. The bedding is ruined, but he runs warm enough that you hardly notice the absence of cover while he’s holding you. Your legs tangle with his, bodies slotting together easily. He nuzzles as if he can worm his way closer than skin to skin. If you could, you’d open your ribcage to welcome him inside. He could eat your heart if it kept his beating another day.
"Will you... talk me to sleep?" He asks, threads of shame lingering in the request. The tension has drained away, leaving him vulnerable and exhausted. His blinks are slow, the curve of his lips mournful. "Of course," you whisper, smoothing your hand up and down his back. This isn’t the first time you’ve talked him back to sleep, and you doubt it’ll be the last. Sometimes you tell him the plot of a book as best you can recall, other times it's random anecdotes from your life. Sometimes it's complete nonsense. To him, it doesn't matter what you say. All that matters is that when he does finally drift back into sleep, it's your voice that safeguards him there. 
Gladly, he rests his head back down on your chest, closing his eyes with a rumbling sigh while your nails drag along his scalp. You cradle him there, savoring the warmth of him as it seeps into the marrow of your bones, the weight of him grounding you.
You tell him stories until sleep finds him. Even then, you continue to speak until your voice frays and you can no longer keep your eyes open. You speak and speak and speak hoping that somehow, in some small way, you can help make up for the years he spent with only his own voice for comfort.
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ihavemanyhusbands · 25 days ago
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Memento Vivere
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Also on AO3
Part I // Part II // Mini-Series Masterlist
Pairing: Lucius Verus Aurelius x Fem!Reader
WC: 4.1k words
Summary: Rome is in disarray. Macrinus has been trying to seize power and therefore, he decides to use you as collateral. But Lucius won't let him win so easily.
Warnings: MINORS DNI this fic is 18+, canon events with canon divergence (so, potentially spoilers), graphic depictions of violence, mentions of blood and death, abduction, angst (but there's a happy ending!), reader is a courtesan (SW), fluffy smut, unprotected p in v, 69, typical roman wedding customs, some historical inaccuracies potentially, aaaand i think that’s it! But lmk if anything else.
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"Love conquers all; therefore, let us submit to love."
–Virgil.
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The pounding came late at night, when the moon had disappeared in preparation for the dawn. The raucous sound startled you awake from a dream you immediately forgot, leaving you dazed and slightly panicked. Prima, your chambermaid, hastily draped a cloak over your shoulders and accompanied you to the front of the house to investigate.
The iron gates seemed to shake from the sheer power of the knocking, as if a battering ram was being used. The courtyard was shadowed except for a few small torches and in that moment, you couldn’t help but believe anything could be lurking in the darkness. Gallus, who guarded the entrance, motioned with one hand for you and Prima to stay where you were.
Fear curdled icily in your stomach and you clutched Prima’s arm as Gallus undid the giant latch that held the gates closed. He partially opened one of them, but as soon as he did, a trio of brawny men barreled inside.
One of them, quick as a flash, drew his sword and drove it into Gallus’ chest. He let out a gurgling sound and collapsed, immediately dead. Prima screamed, but you were frozen in shock, a sob clogging in your throat. The other two men started to menacingly make their way towards you, quickly closing the distance.
You shoved Prima back towards the hallway, stepping in front of her protectively.
“Run,” you urged her. “Save yourself!”
She hesitated for a moment, but then her self-preservation instincts took over and she darted into the darkness of the house. Luckily, none of them pursued her, but they weren’t there for her, after all. 
The two men reached you, each clutching one of your arms and dragging you to the entrance. Your heart was pounding like a war drum in your chest, everything coming into sharper focus as adrenaline kicked in. You couldn’t bring yourself to ask who they were or where they were taking you, too afraid they might become more aggressive.
Outside the gate, there were a few more men holding torches, all of them surrounding a man on a pale horse. The rider removed the hood of his cloak and it was none other than Macrinus, Lucius’ master.
“A little bird has told me that one of my gladiators holds you in high regard,” he said by way of greeting, his smile a thin veneer of friendliness. “My champion, as you might recall…”
You dipped your chin in assent, knowing it was futile to lie. His men were restless as if waiting for an excuse to intervene, and you wouldn’t give it to them if you could help it.
“Well, as it happens, I am now in need of some help keeping him in check,” he said, his words less like an invitation and more of a command. “If you would be so kind as to come with us.”
You swallowed hard, nodding once more. “I-if I may ask… Where are we going?”
“Oh, you needn’t worry about that.” He waved off the question dismissively. “You’ll be perfectly safe in my care.”
You hesitated for a moment before inclining your head, trying to seem polite despite the tremor in your voice. “Of course, I–thank you.”
He held out his heavily ringed hand for you to take and swiftly pulled you onto his horse in front of him. You cast one last fretful glance back at your house as if to commit it to memory. What if you never returned?
No, you couldn’t think like that. You’d do whatever it took to see things through and come out alive on the other side. You could play the game… Whatever it was. But if Lucius was on the line, what exactly was expected of you? 
“Hold on tightly, now,” Macrinus said close to your ear, making your skin crawl. “Wouldn’t want you to fall.”
He spurred his horse into a wild gallop, the darkened streets of Rome blurring together as they flew past you. The sun was just beginning to rise in the horizon, slowly bleeding crimson and gold.
It could be no coincidence that just the day before, General Acacius had been executed by the Praetorian guard after Lucius had chosen to grant him mercy. You couldn’t be sure what either of them was planning, but Lucius had to be enough of a threat to warrant some collateral. Perhaps Macrinus even thought you might have some idea of what his next move would be.
Anxiousness knotted in your chest as you stared straight ahead. Perhaps if you played your part well enough, you might not just save yourself, but you might also help Lucius, too. All that was left to do was wait.
—-----------------
Outside, the Roman populace was rioting. The fires throughout the city had doubled after the fate of Queen Lucilla was announced. It was no surprise, given their adoration for her and the former General Acasius. That was working in her and Lucius’ favor, but it was also working in Macrinus’s, if things went according to his plans. Things were in a rather precarious position in Rome. Emperor Geta was already dead, and nobody was too keen on the idea of Caracalla having sole power. 
Lucius and his mother met a few days prior to form a plan to defeat Macrinus, and they relied on the element of surprise. Lucius hadn’t summoned you in some time, wanting to keep you away from danger, but he had still tried to send you a couple of messages with Ravi. Much to his dismay, though, he had received no response. He feared that you might be angry at him, but it wasn’t until Viggo boasted about your capture, taunting him, that he found out the truth.
That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Lucius drove his sword into the face of the man who had tried so hard to break him on the training grounds. He could endure his attempts to humiliate him, the sharp bite of the whip tearing open his back, and the leering grins at his suffering. But he could not bear the thought of him laying a single hand on you. 
And still, even after killing him, his rage was not quelled. It would carry him through the rest of the day, like a purifying, righteous flame. 
His fellow gladiators disposed of the rest of their captors, and now they waited to enact Lucius’ plan. He stalked out on the sand, approaching the sacrificial altar where his mother and the senators who had conspired with her were tied. Senator Gracchus was among them, his hunched form and frightened expression like a dagger piercing your heart. Queen Lucilla, for her part, kept her chin raised high, a serenely dignified expression on her face. She would not go down afraid in the face of her enemies.
Lucius looked to the Emperor’s box and momentarily halted in his steps as he spotted you. Beside you, Macrinus smiled, wide and cruel. He had deliberately kept you hidden until that moment, when he knew it would be an irresistible distraction to Lucius. You tried to shake your head imperceptibly, but you knew it’d be impossible for him to see at such a great distance. 
A scream threatened to crawl up your throat, but you stayed perfectly still, your expression neutral. You could betray nothing in that moment, or it might cost you both everything. Fortuna, I beg you, bless him with your favor once more…
Lucius’ rage was incandescent, blazing through him like sunlight itself. Everything else seemed to disappear and he became like the edge of a well-honed blade – the vision of the god Apollo. He raised his sword and pointed it directly at Macrinus – both a promise and a threat. Only one of them would still live by the end of the day.
The master of ceremonies announced what the games would consist of – Lucius would be the sole fighter to defend his mother and the senators from the Praetorian guard. They rode into the arena at the sound of trumpets, the thunderous noise of horses' hooves pounding on the sand reverberating through you. Your vision went dark for a moment and you thought you might faint, but then you felt an arm slip around your shoulders.
“I want you to watch closely now,” Macrinus said, voice low and close to your ear. “This is what happens to those who go against my will.”
You watched as the soldiers circled closer and closer. An archer among them loosed an arrow that pierced through Senator Gracchus’ throat, blood spurting from his mouth like a gruesome fountain. You whimpered, feeling like air had been punched out of your lungs. Tears rapidly welled in your eyes as your patron fell to his knees, dead within seconds. Macrinus’ grip on your shoulders tightened, gripping your chin with his free hand when you tried to glance away. 
At his throne, Emperor Caracalla clapped excitedly over the first death of the spectacle. His pet monkey climbed onto his shoulders, chittering anxiously at all the commotion. With one last menacing look, Macrinus let go of your shoulders and stepped behind the throne to get a better look. Beneath your cloak, your fingers brushed over the small knife you’d stolen from the kitchen at Macrinus’ estate. You sent another prayer to Nemesis, goddess of revenge, so that your hand wouldn’t falter if you were forced to use it.
In the arena, Lucius jumped onto the platform where his mother stood and let out a fierce roar, raising his sword in the air. His battle cry was echoed by the dozens of gladiators that suddenly flooded the arena, immediately engaging the soldiers in a fierce melee. 
Mayhem ensued as the crowd grew wild and rapidly uncontrollable. The people surged forward like a tempestuous tide, fighting back against the Praetorian guards who were meant to keep things under control. Macrinus saw his opportunity in the chaos and slipped a needle-like knife into Caracalla’s ear, killing him. His monkey leaped away, terrified, and lost itself in the commotion.
You stumbled backward, aghast, as Macrinus took the bow of the guard nearest him and fired down into the arena. Unthinking, you unsheathed the knife for protection and fled while he was still turned away. You heard his furious scream and his pounding footsteps in pursuit of you, but soon you were met with the angry Roman mob. 
You glanced over your shoulder, weighing your options, and decided your chances were better if you lost yourself in the crowd. You fought your way through, not letting anything or anyone stop you. Your heart was racing and your breaths were coming out in harsh pants, but no one really paid attention to you. You were jostled and thrown about, but that seemed to be the worst of it.
Macrinus gave up pursuit rather quickly, instead stealing a horse and fleeing towards Ostia, where he would meet his fate. As for Lucius, you had faith in his strength, in the fury that drove him forward. The best thing you could do was find somewhere to hide, at least until things settled down some. He could not have any more distractions now, in the most crucial moment.
And so, you ran.
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Countless hours later, after defeating Macrinus in a duel where the fate of Rome was at stake, Lucius revealed his true identity, his grandfather’s ring back on his finger. But he did not stay long to revel in his victory, instead riding back into the city at breakneck speed. He searched the busy streets for you with the desperation of a man who had already lost everything, but was not willing to go through it again. The rage was dissipating into panic, but he wouldn’t let himself succumb to it. 
You were praying in a small temple of Fortuna when you heard his hoarse voice calling out your name, the sound growing closer. You threw off your hood and dashed into the street, seeing him in the near distance atop his horse, frantically looking about. Relief at seeing him alive, though bruised and bloodied, flooded through you. You could almost fall to your knees in gratitude, a great weight lifting off your shoulders.
“Lucius!” You called out, waving your arms above your head so he may spot you. “Lucius, over here!”
Finally, he saw you, his expression nearly crumbling with relief. People moved out of the way to let him through, curiously taking in the scene. By the time he reached you, you noticed your face was wet with tears, but you were unable to stop smiling. He let out a breathy laugh, overjoyed, and pulled you onto his horse. He caught you halfway and kissed you deeply, not stopping even as you murmured thank you, thank you, thank you against his lips like a prayer. 
Then he seemed to remember where you were, with dozens surrounding you, and he knew he had to get you out of there. He leaned his forehead against yours for a moment, barely able to believe his immense fortune. He mentally thanked anyone who might be listening for bringing you back to his side, and he kissed the tip of your nose.
“I told you you’d be the first one I’d run to,” he said, helping you settle in front of him. “We must go, the streets are not safe yet.”
You nodded, pressing closer to him. You didn’t even need to ask where he was taking you, for you would go with him anywhere. To the ends of the earth and beyond, until you were just two shades in Hades, indistinguishable from one another.
He spurred his horse, navigating it up the road and away from the more condensed areas of the city. Soon the cloying smell of smoke and the constant shouting disappeared behind you like a distant nightmare. The clean mountain air revitalized you, finally making you feel a little more at ease. We really did it. We made it through.
When you reached the outskirts of the forest near a cliffside, he finally stopped. The view was breathtaking, the sunset seeming to stretch on infinitely, painting the entire sky in swaths of orange and pink. It was quiet except for a soft breeze, with no one around for miles to intrude in your little pocket of paradise. He dismounted first, but you jumped into his arms before he could help you down, practically tackling him to the ground. 
He laughed and you kissed him, letting him roll you onto your back on the bed of grass. Hands roamed over each other’s bodies with a certain urgency, ascertaining your solidity. You arched against him and he clutched you to him as if his life depended on it, moving to kiss your face and neck.
“I should have known,” he said, his anger self-directed. “I should have done more to keep you safe, I-”
“No use dwelling on what could have been when I am here now, safe in your arms.” You caressed his hair gently, trying to soothe him.
“But what if you weren’t?” he said, stopping to look at you. “I would never forgive myself for it. I would have followed you immediately.”
“Lucius, please…” you tried to protest, but he turned his face to kiss your palm, laying it against his cheek. “The threat is gone. You have defeated Macrinus. There is nothing to fear.”
For a moment, there was torment written on his features, like a long-buried memory had come to haunt him. His eyes scanned your face, searching for comfort in your loveliness — the delicate curve of your cupid’s bow, the slope of your nose, the fan of your lashes against your cheekbones when you blinked. Your gentle gaze, especially, and those soft lips that curved in a smile whenever he was around. He could never grow tired of looking at you.
For the first time in a long, long time, he could see a future ahead of him, waiting with open arms. Without you, it was just not there, and that was why he was still so distressed. He couldn’t fathom being separated from you and he had been foolish not to realize it sooner. He had been stubborn about his feelings, thinking it was better to keep you at arm’s length just to save you. And all for what?
“What is it?” You prompted, gently smoothing out his frown with your fingers, bringing him out of his thoughts. 
“Will you marry me?” He asked.
You immediately sat up, making him pull back with you. You opened and closed your mouth, shocked beyond words. For a moment, you even thought you had imagined him asking that. His eyebrows raised slightly, nervous but expectant. 
“Marry you,” You repeated breathlessly, blinking at him. “You want to make an honest woman out of me, is that it?”
“Not just that.” He chuckled. “But an Emperor’s wife, too.”
Your eyes widened. “What?”
He showed you his ring, which featured the profile of Marcus Aurelius, his grandfather. Every last piece of the puzzle seemed to click into place then, but it would take some more time for it to fully sink in. You stared at the ring, completely awestruck, and bent your head to kiss it as if by reflex.
“Lucius, I… Is this what you really want?” You asked, not letting go of his hand. “I am just not sure that I’m, you know…”
You couldn’t bring yourself to say the word worthy, but he caught your meaning anyway. His fingers squeezed yours reassuringly, making you look into his eyes. 
“I have never been more certain of anything,” he said. “I would argue you are deserving of better than me. I am not a man without faults, or history, as you well know.”
You shook your head as if he was foolish to worry about such things. It wasn’t like you didn’t have any faults or regrets of your own. You’d already had enough sleepless nights being tormented by them, as you knew he had been. No person had nothing they wouldn’t like to be forgiven for.
“Well, you are plenty enough for me,” you said softly. “Faults and all.”
“As are you,” he said, returning the gesture of worship and respect by kissing your hand. “I want nothing more. I need nothing more. Just you.”
 “Then it is no question, really.” You smiled, on the brink of tears again. “I will happily marry you, Lucius Verus Aurelius.”
Finally, the dark cloud lifted from his expression, and his smile was even more beautiful than the sunset coming to an end behind him. Now it was him who tackled you back onto the ground and you thought he might devour you, his lips intent on not leaving one inch of your skin unkissed.
—-------------------------------------
The ceremony was kept small and intimate, but you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. It was an auspicious June day, warm and pleasant, with no clouds in the sky. The air was perfumed with the smell of fresh cut flowers, as there were dozens of arrangements set up all around. Fountains babbled in the gardens, accompanying the echo of your excited voices.
As was custom, Lucius chased you around the halls of the palace in a mock kidnapping. You could not stop laughing, exhilarated, a thrill dancing down your spine any time you looked over your shoulder to see him giving chase. When he finally caught you, he threw you over his shoulder and carried you to a lectus that overlooked the gardens. 
Your veil and wreath came off first as he laid you down on the plush cushions, hair fanning out over them. You helped each other out of your clothes, eager to have nothing between you. When Lucius’ toga was off, you admired his body, running your hands over the hard planes of his stomach and up to his chest. 
He cupped the back of your neck and brought your lips to his greedily. The slide of his warm skin against yours was heavenly, only making you want more and more of him, forever. It was still surreal that what had so recently become a dream of yours was now a reality. You would always thank Fortuna for that.
But that made you remember something you’d been wanting to bring up, except there had not been any opportunity before. You hoped it wouldn’t ruin the moment, but it could wait no longer. 
“Lucius?” You said between kisses.
“Yes, my love?”
You pulled back to look him in the eye, setting your hands on his shoulders.
“Um,” you began nervously, swallowing hard. “I know what our duties are but… Would it be so terrible to enjoy our marriage by ourselves just a little while longer?”
He caught your meaning immediately, nodding reassuringly as he placed his palm on the small of your back.
“I am in no rush if you are not,” he said without hesitation, not minding the idea one bit. 
He’d been having similar thoughts about it for the past couple of days, anyway, and he was glad you’d been the one to bring it up. You smiled at him gratefully, sighing with relief. His eyes dropped to your lips once more, their lure nearly irresistible. 
“My wife is a greedy little thing, wanting to keep me all to herself.”
You chuckled salaciously as he ran his thumb over your bottom lip. “Can you blame me?”
He shook his head, watching as you teasingly bit his thumb, licking the pad of it. He let out a breathy groan and you pushed him onto his back, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down his chest. His hips jerked as your lips passed his navel, and with the flat of your tongue, you teased the velvety underside of his hard cock.
You heard his sharp intake of breath, followed by him sighing your name. You continued to tease and lick him, making him whimper, his eyes pleading for more when you looked into them. You took him into your mouth and his head tipped back in pleasure, exposing the column of his throat. 
“Come here,” he rasped deliriously. “I need to taste you, too.”
You complied with no protest, only extricating yourself to reposition. You swung a leg over his head to straddle his face, leaning your body forward so you could take his cock in your mouth once more. His tongue lapped at your inner thigh, which was glistening with your arousal. You shuddered, moaning around him. 
You pushed your hips back as he traced the tip of his tongue through your folds, groaning at the taste of you. The tips of your fingers brushed his sac as you sucked on the sensitive tip of his cock, and he felt as if he might go wild at that moment. 
His fingers, in turn, dipped into your cunt, preparing you for him. It became like a game, trying to get the other to come first. He won first, but he wasn’t far behind, and he marveled at the fact that you swallowed every drop. From then on, things were a lot more frenzied.
Hours passed without either of you noticing. There were only a few breaks in between, but otherwise, you and Lucius explored every possible position on and around the couch. It was perhaps the longest wedding night in history, with nothing to hold you back any longer. Except for maybe physical exhaustion, which set in when the sun was beginning to rise on a new dawn.
The two of you lay naked, holding each other close, while you watched the sky lighten. The morning was ripe with possibility, Rome feeling like an entirely different realm. Fear had reigned for so long that peace was still a new luxury, but not one you took for granted.
At that moment, before the day really started and you both had to face your new responsibilities, all you wanted was to commit the first moments of your marriage to memory. The matching rings on your interlocked fingers, the adoring look in Lucius’ heavy-lidded eyes, and the mutual promise to take care of each other for the rest of your days. 
“Get some rest, my love,” you murmured, caressing his face. “You’ll need your strength.”
“I shall only sleep if I’ll see you in my dreams,” he murmured, trying to sound playful, but his eyes were already closed.
You chuckled, kissing his forehead. “And when you wake up, you’ll see it wasn’t a dream after all.”
--------
Finis.
593 notes · View notes
awrkive · 4 months ago
Text
NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 3 — JJK
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in hindsight, you should have seen it coming. had always known your luck – or lack of it, thereof – and the universe's meticulous plan of your downfall made it easy for you to get tangled up in a series of unfortunate events, which presents itself as the neighbor that lives across from you, jeon jungkook.
PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader
GENRE r18+ (fluff, angst, smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
CHAPTER WORD COUNT 18.7k
CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bsf!jimin, accountant!oc software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, minjoon boyfriends <<<<3, mature language, lots of screaming into your pillow moments, litol bit of #domesticity, FLUFFY FLUFF FLUFFFFFFFFFFFFF, angst if you squint??????????, the x file spoiler lol, suits cameo (me inserting my niche interests into conversations), the biggest warning of this part is: naked jungkook 💀
NOTES sorry for being almost 3 hours late efhkjdhfd i overestimated my abilities a bit mb mb anyway, AGAIN, i want to thank you guys for the overwhelming support! i want to take this opportunity to announce that i'll be taking a break from nb for  around 2 weeks to work on my new jungkook one-shot fic that i will be posting for his birthday ❤️ if you are interested, i have posted the teaser on my tumblr page. LASTLY pls let me know your thoughts!! i LOVE LOOOVEEE reading every single one of your replies/reblogs/asks. i hope you enjoy this one and have a good weekend ahead!!!!!! 
NB!JK VISUALS | TAGLIST OPEN (REPLY IN THE COMMENT SECTION. PLS DO NOT SEND AN ASK ABOUT IT)
READ ON WATTPAD | AO3
PART ONE | TWO | THREE
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You always wonder how a company this big seems to not have any budget lent for a copier that actually works – something that one doesn’t need to violently slap just for it to function perfectly.
You’ve been a victim not just once but five times to its inefficiency, the recent mishap being a month ago when the ink blots jumped right over the cuff of your shirt. 
With the way that you’ve been harassing the copier at the very moment, you’ll say it’s about to do you wrong for the sixth time and you absolutely can’t let it happen anymore – not when you’re currently wearing a white polo shirt that stupidly costs a little too much more than anything in your wardrobe (you decided to spend a little more than usual last New Year’s).
So, with a last unnecessary kick to the bottom of the machine (out of pure spite) you left the copier room of your floor and think, fuck it – go to the IT department and ask Taemu to back you up from his supervisor so you can use their copier instead – which is something you’re not so sure of. 
It’s embarrassing to go there just to ask him for help. Not with your history. But admittedly not that much of a history. After all, he seems to be cool with you and everything seems to be pretty chill. You can just go there; ask a little favor from a friend, and then hurry down to your floor.
There are some other options, though. Like, you can always ask the intern to do it for you. But the thing is, you kind of feel bad for those three. Your co-workers are doing a lot already; asking to fetch them things all around the building, buy them snacks, stuff like that. There’s another one but she’s way too quiet and didn’t really take shit from any of her seniors… which is kind of intimidating – but she's someone you wish you were when you were also an intern. You personally don’t want to help cultivate a somewhat toxic journey for the other three because you also started the same way as them. Beyond that, it would also be too rude to ask favors from Taemu indirectly.
You’re ultimately left with little and only one choice.
The elevator dings and the doors open after it does so. 
One of the people in it is a woman you’ve never met around before. Long, black hair; tailored suit, slender figure, and a posture that screams she’s never hunched her back in her entire life. 
Other people that entered at the same time as you start to bow their heads down slightly and greet a polite, “Good afternoon.” 
You mirror their gesture as well. 
As you step inside and settle on a spot, you wonder who she is. 
An executive, maybe? She looks very put-together, and there’s authority that hangs over her frame… but exceptionally young in the physical aspect. Jungkook is also young, though – and he’s an executive, so that’s entirely possible. Additionally, others seem to know her. Or they're just pretending to know her like you did. Did you miss a ceremony? A meeting? Or did you gloss over some HR email again? You’ll have to check later to find out if that’s the case. 
Anyway, your curiosity doesn’t last long when the elevator doors open once again, indicating the IT department floor. 
You already texted Taemu awhile ago that you were on your way so he should meet you on-time. 
As you walk down the hallway with your phone in your hand, your attention is caught by a familiar voice.
“Hey,”
You look up from your phone and see Taemu waving not too far away, heading towards your direction. It doesn’t take him long to get near you. When he does, you give him a smile.
“Taemu, hi.” You say as a small greeting. Taemu lifts his hand and you thought he was going for a high-five, so you lift your hand as well to meet the gesture. But then he leans in closer, one arm about to enclose your waist, and that’s when you realize he was actually gearing up for a hug.
Taemu seems to register that you weren’t exactly going for the same thing, so he steps back. He seems shy when you look at him in confusion.
“Oh, okay, sorry,” He offers his hand again, but just when you’re already thinking about hugging him because that was what he originally meant to do, he speaks just as you lean in closer to hug him. “I thought we were high-five-ing?” 
Embarrassed, your hands retreat to yourself.
“I thought... you wanted to hug?” You chuckle. 
“Okay, let’s just—” Taemu steps closer again and this time, it’s more than clear to you what he wants to do.
You reciprocate the hug he gives.
“This is so stupid.” You say, chuckling against his neck. The contact is quick as you two simultaneously break apart.
Taemu laughs at your remark, nodding his head. Then he gestures ahead, pointing to the direction of the copy room.
“Your copier not working again?” He asks as you walk down the hallway together. 
You heave a sigh. “Yeah, they really need to change that one. Anyway, have you told Mr. Lee?” You ask, referring to his supervisor. 
Teamu nods his head, opening the door to the copy room for you. 
“Yeah, it’s fine with him. Just sign the logbook and stuff.” 
“Thanks, Taemu.” You say, quickly getting to work, feeling slightly delighted at how their machine smoothly does its job and not like the one at all in your department. “Hey, I’m really sorry for bothering you with this.” You lament as you wait for the paper to slide out.
Taemu waves his hand, shaking his head at you. “It’s fine.” 
You purse your lips into a thin line, giving him a somewhat apprehensive smile. The paper comes out and you get your thing. After a quick scan to see if the copier got everything right, you look back at Taemu to say, “Thanks again, Taemu. I really appreciate this.” 
“No worries. Anytime.”
When you announce that you’re done, Taemu calls your name.
“Hm?” You hum, looking at him and wait for his next words.
He looks coy when he rubs a hand on the back of his head.
“Can I take you out for lunch?” He says, and you still in your position. Taemu seems like he surprised himself with his own words. You open your mouth to speak but then he beats you to it quickly, “It’s not a date. I phrased that as a date – but it’s not – ah, this is all coming out wrong,” Taemu chuckles, interrupting himself. With his hands in his slacks' pockets, he leans to a random table inside the room and looks at you with a more confident stance this time, as if he just gave himself a quick internal pep talk after jumbling his words. “What I meant to say is, if we can go out for lunch together today?” 
You chuckle. You were just about to say yes. Contrary to his assumption, you didn’t really take his first question as an invitation for a date. Besides, he helped you with the copier today.
Nodding your head, you offer him a grin as you say, “Yeah. I’ll go to lunch with you.” 
Taemu walks you to the elevator even though you said he doesn’t need to. He's insistent but you let it, anyway.
Taemu puts his hands on both sides of the door before it closes. The ride is pretty much empty except for yourself.
“When are you off?” He asks.
You think about it for a moment. “Is 12:15 okay?”
Taemu nods. “Sure. See you at 12:15?” 
“Yeah. Later.” 
The elevator closes and you laugh to yourself when you catch Taemu awkwardly waving his hand at you goodbye.
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“No, you didn’t, I kicked your ass at mini golf!” You say, laughing as Taemu looks at you with squinted eyes, obviously saying that was absolutely not what happened on your date a few months ago.
“Uh, you disregarded all the rules.” 
You roll your eyes. “Okay, fine. Rules do not matter, though. It’s just some stick and a ball and… fake grass.” 
Taemu laughs, surrendering his hands to the air, nodding when he says, “Fair, fair.” 
You’re currently at a restaurant not too far away from your company building. It took Taemu and you about five minutes to get here; just a quick waiting time to cross the pedestrian lane to get from one street to the other.
Looking around, you can actually see some people inside wearing your company lace. The restaurant’s sort of like a famous spot around the company, though, so it doesn't necessarily surprise you. You’ve also had a few company dinners here some time ago. 
Safe to say, lunch with Taemu is going… okay so far.
No – actually, it’s way better than you thought it would be.
You could have never, ever predicted that you’ll be out with him alone again after… you know, ghosting him. Your whole assessment of his character has also changed a bit after the whole fiasco.
See, some guys start feeling entitled over your permission and consent when you entertain them even just for a bit. When you go on dates and you break it to them that it’s just not working out between you two, they start to act weird. Like you’ve hurt them. Or that you lead them on – even though it’s absolutely not the case. 
But Taemu’s proving himself to be different. You honestly expected him to act like that guy because he seems the type after your first date. But he surprises you by acting the total, complete opposite.
He’s so… nice. So casual. Like nothing happened. You feel bad because right now, you've officially confirmed to yourself that you totally misjudged him. 
You can’t believe you’ll say this, but Taemu is not an asshole. Like at all.
Even now, you’re recalling what happened to your date and laughing about some of the memories of it, and it feels so long ago you’re starting to remember it differently.
“Anyway, this milkshake’s really good,” you say, taking your glass and looking at it curiously. 
“Yeah? I told you,” Taemu grins, eating from his own plate. 
“You always come here?” You ask out of curiosity since he seems to be familiar with the menu. 
“Sort of? I mean, I try to take in the city as much as I can.” You nod, recalling what he told you before. He came from Daegu, and it’s his first time in Seoul.
Before you can say anything to that, the waiter comes to your table and gives you your bill. 
Taemu and you simultaneously take out your wallets. When he sees you do it, though, he’s quick to shake his head, gesturing for you to not bother.
“No, no, it’s fine. I got it.” 
“I got it, too,” You say, smiling at him, already picking out your card, ready to put it inside the check presenter.
“__,” Taemu says your name while chuckling. “I swear, it’s fine. I was the one who invited you for lunch.” 
“Taemu,” You call him, using the same tone he used. Taemu grins at that. “I think we should split the bill.”
It’s only fair, you think. You ate pretty much the same thing.
You hold what felt like a minute staring competition until Taemu gives in and lets you stack your card on top of his in the booklet.
You’re about to resume eating – pick up on the conversation you left a few minutes ago – when your phone dings on the table, a message popping out on the notification center.
When you read the contact name, your eyes widen but you relax your face real quick lest Taemu asks questions. 
“Sorry,” you say, pointing to your phone. Taemu nods, understanding. You pick the device in your hands, turn to your other side to not be rude, and read the text from Jungkook. 
Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:47pm]: hey I bought you lunch Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:48pm]: i was gonnna ask you to go with me earlier but I got busy with some papers 
Shoot.
You’ve done a pretty good job of not thinking about Jungkook at all for the entirety of the day. You woke up so early this morning that you waited for twenty whole minutes for your bus just so you can avoid seeing Jungkook because everytime his name pops up in your thoughts, you remember what you did the night before and it just messes with your head so much.
Listen, you aren’t embarrassed about trying to get yourself off. It’s just masturbation. It’s a carnal need and it’s totally normal. What you are not proud of is the way you thought about him – out of all people – and how it actually made you feel… a little more motivated to get yourself there. 
But it’s a slip-up. A big mistake. 
How are you supposed to look him in the eyes after that and act like you didn’t do what you did? Granted, you did stop before it escalated. But still, the point is that you thought about him while you were pleasuring yourself. Even if it was for a tiny bit second, it still counts!
Stupid fucking ovulation, you think to yourself with bitterness. You’re a much better person without it, you swear. You don’t go around thinking about men when you try to get yourself off, not at all! Personally, your head is mostly blank when you go through it.   
But Jungkook left two texts. And he’s probably seen the read tag on his end already. 
You [12:49pm]: I just got lunch ): thank you for buying me one tho that’s really nice ofu
You turn your phone off after sending your reply, placing it on the empty space of your table. When you look at Taemu, he’s eyeing something behind you. With furrowed brows, the question about what he’s looking at is on the tip of your tongue when he suddenly says,
“Isn’t that Mr. Jeon?” 
“W-what?” You stammer, not sure if you heard him right.
The knots on Taemu’s forehead fades, and then he nods to himself. “I’m pretty sure that’s Mr. Jeon. He’s going this way.” 
“Wha—”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeon.” Taemu stands up from his seat and does a slight bow for greeting. 
Without thinking about it, you mirror Taemu’s action, bowing your head longer than necessary. 
“Good afternoon, M-mr. Jeon,”
It’s no use to avoid his gaze, though.
When you look at Jungkook, he seems pretty much just as surprised to see you. You look away, but your eyes fall to his hand, and you see that it carries a take-out paper bag from the restaurant. You think about his text. 
“Good afternoon.” Jungkook says with an easy-going smile. He goes from surprised to casual real quick and glosses over you as if he doesn’t know you. 
You don’t really know how that makes you feel. 
“I was just going, have fun with your lunch.” He says and politely bids his goodbye, going straight to the direction of the restaurant’s door. 
“He’s really cool, you know?” Taemu brings up when you both sit down again. 
“I— huh?”
“You must have heard about the new project they’re starting at the end of this month, right?” He asks curiously.
You sit there stunned. Stunned from earlier’s interaction with Jungkook but also because you don’t really know what the hell Taemu’s talking about.
“No… I didn’t get any memo…?” You say instead, trying not to act way too oblivious lest he thinks you’re lazy or something. Not that it matters! You’re not trying to impress him or anything. 
Taemu nods. “Well, you’ll probably know about it soon.”  
But your head's too far gone now, still stuck on what happened a minute ago.
You look over at your phone while Taemu speaks, hoping for it to light up with a new notification from the messaging app. 
A few minutes passed by and it doesn’t, even when you leave the restaurant.
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You don’t really know why you’re here. 
It’s been three days since that night in Jungkook’s place where you tried to bake in his kitchen, so it’s also been three days since you started practicing during the nights after work to perfect your cookies. Tonight, it just so happens that the cookies finally taste edible and honestly, it’s more than okay. 
So, maybe that’s why you find yourself in front of Jungkook’s door with a plastic container in your hands, decently-baked cookies prettily arranged inside. 
Jungkook was with you when you made those pathetic excuses for cookies, so you thought it’s only fair for him to try these ones and tell you what he thinks. Brag a little. Maybe have a little chitchat if he’s free or whatever.
It’s also… sort of like a peace offering for something he doesn’t need to know about. You can’t tell him you’re sorry for thinking about him when you did the deed because that’s just plain weird. 
Speaking of weird, though, the interaction from yesterday left you feeling a little empty. There’s this gnawing feeling inside of you that something went wrong – but you can’t exactly point out why. Jungkook also hasn’t texted you after that – which isn’t out of the ordinary. You don’t text everyday and you don’t meet every single day, either – for the record. You’re both busy people. You can only imagine Jungkook’s schedule.
Anyway, if there’s anything that you learned about your friendship with Jungkook, it’s that you don’t need to lie to him. You just have to knock on his door and he’ll unintentionally clear your doubts by being the voice of reason because he’s nice like that. 
You do hope though that tonight clears any weird air between you. Maybe you’ll find out later on that there’s nothing weird going on at all and you’re just overthinking stuff as usual. 
You’re about to ring the doorbell twice when the door finally opens, showing you Jungkook still wearing his polo shirt. He looks like he’s just gotten home from work, red tie undone around his neckline and a few buttons popped open. 
“Hi.” You smile. 
“Hey,” Jungkook looks at you, obviously wondering what brought you to his door.
“I wanted to give you this,” you hand him the plastic container which he takes with a confused look. “Those are cookies. I baked them. I didn’t give you anything when I baked two nights ago because they were bad.”
“Ah,” Jungkook nods, looking down at the plastic. He smiles, then leans on his doorway. “So it’s good now?” 
You gesture a so-so with your hand. “Don’t set your expectations too high. It’s not exactly Poilâne. But it tastes like matcha cookies, I swear.” When Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a while, you decide to add, “You also won’t get food poisoning, if you’re worried about that.”
Jungkook gives you an amused look. “I wasn’t… worried about that.”
“It’s a simple disclaimer. Just in case, you know, you suddenly feel weird in the stomach…” Jungkook arches his brow while you trail off. You roll your eyes lightheartedly. “I’m kidding.” 
He lets out a chuckle and then stands upright. “Thank you for this.” 
“No worries,” you say. You shift your weight from one foot to another. “Uh, do you wanna grab dinner? Right now?” 
Jungkook looks at you apologetically.
“I really wish we could, but I have to finish something tonight. Work stuff.” 
“Oh,” You nod immediately. “Okay. Uhm, good luck with that.”
He smiles at you. Lifting the container up, he arches his brows, saying, “Thank you, again. It looks good.” 
“Yeah, I hope you like it,” You say. Realizing that there’s nothing more left to say, you turn on your heel ready to go. But before that, you look back at him one last time. “Bye.” 
Jungkook grins.
“I’ll text you what I think about them.” He says, pointing to the cookies. 
“Okay, Anton Ego.”  
You both laugh at that, and you enter your apartment with a small smile on your face.
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You don’t want to admit it even to yourself, but you might have taken Jungkook’s words about reviewing your baked goods too seriously that you waited for it last night longer than necessary. Even when the night ended and you go to work the next day, which is today, none of his texts come, and you don’t think anything’s coming anytime soon. 
You try not to think about it too much because he did say he’s busy with work. You’re sure that’s the case, so you feel slightly bad for him. 
Right now, you’re looking for Ms. Seo to get her signature on a document. So you head to the elevator, rushing a bit to get inside the one that’s about to close. It’s a little urgent, so you cannot waste any more time.
As soon as you enter though, you notice who’s in it.
It’s Jungkook and the woman you saw in the elevator two days ago. 
You’re starting to think you need to start using the stairs from now on because your elevator trips are getting too ridiculous. 
It feels like you’re running on auto-pilot when you greet them both, walking to the side to make space for the other people entering. 
You wish you went beside the woman instead and not Jungkook’s side because you then have to try real hard not to look at him.
It proves to be an uneasy task when more people squeeze in as the elevator takes a few stops in between floors. You had to taut all the muscles in your body just to not get into any contact with Jungkook, but even with all the effort, it goes unsuccessful, as you brush his arm when you step back to move a little. 
Jungkook looks at you the same time you do.
“I’m sorry.” You utter, low enough to not cause any unnecessary attention.
A few do turn to stare, anyway. And you can’t help but notice the way the woman’s hand moves towards Jungkook’s to hold it as she takes a look at you. 
Jungkook, meanwhile, gives you that same professional smile he seems to have reserved for every employee that greets him around the building, warm voice saying, “It’s okay.” 
You’re thankful that the next floor is where your stop is.
As you go back to your cubicle, you wonder who the woman is. Again.
There's something about her that feels familiar. She looks familiar. Like you’ve seen her before. You can’t just figure out where exactly. 
“__,” Sol calls beside you. 
“Huh?”
“You’re not having lunch?” She asks.
“Oh…” Right. It’s currently your break time. “Are you guys going out?” You say, looking at Joonhwi who’s two cubicles away from you.
Sol shakes her head, taking her coat from the back of her chair. “No, just at the cafeteria.” 
You nod your head. “Okay, I’ll follow in a few minutes, just need to look over some stuff here,” You point to your computer. 
“Okay. Just text me.” 
You give Sol a smile and watch as she and Joonhwi head out of the office. 
Your gaze falls to the time on your computer.
12:10pm. 
Is Jungkook possibly having lunch right now? You remember him buying you one two days ago and feel a little sense of regret about not taking it even though it isn’t your fault and he should’ve told you first to give you a little heads-up.
You never really talked about it. You never really talked for the past three days.
But then again, he seems to be busy.
With a little hope in your heart, though, you pick up your phone and decide to send him a text. 
You [12:12pm]: hey do u want to go out for lunch? 
Or should you just buy him one like he did for you? It’s not like you’re trying to up him in a kindness competition. It can just be a small, thoughtful gesture from a friend to a friend. 
You receive a reply a few seconds after. 
Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:13pm]: hey __  I’d love to
Your lips curl down when you read the next one that comes in a second.
Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:13pm]: but I have a work meeting in 5mins
Oh. Okay. That tracks. 
You [12:14pm]: okii!! That’s totally cool! good luck with work 😊
You stand up from your chair and take out your wallet from your bag, going out of your office and sending a quick text to Sol that you’re coming to the cafeteria. 
When you get there, your peripheral vision catches a familiar figure. 
You look back, trying to see if it’s someone you know.
Turns out it is. Because it’s Jungkook.
You’ve seen him in the elevator this morning and he wore a grey pair of suit. You’d also recognize his stature anywhere, but just like how it was inside the elevator, he’s with the woman again; long hair down like it was yesterday, this time adorning a suit dress that hugs her figure really well, her stilettos making her legs look longer but somehow Jungkook still stands a little taller.
For the very brief moment that you laid your eyes on them, you saw how Jungkook had his hand placed on the low of her back, how she laughed at something he said, and how they looked good together from your point of view. It seemed like they were on their way somewhere.
You realize that was what Jungkook meant when he said he’s busy.
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They say a silver lining comes in every worst situation possible, and you’re more of an optimist rather than a pessimist so usually, you believe in the concept of silver linings even though right now – it looks like it’s going to be winning the jackpot in the lottery or… free education for everybody across the world.
“The contractor estimates it would be a week-long repair.”
“One week?” Is your immediate response, disbelief coloring your tone. “I’m sorry—” You try to fix your tone, salvaging yourself from being seen as outright rude in front of your building manager. “You mean seven whole days?”
The building manager, Mr. Han, nods his head. He looks genuinely apologetic as he delivers the news, for the record.
“That’s… really long.” You say, albeit calmer now. But you still can’t imagine it.
“It’s just an estimate. Contractor said it might be faster than that, but they still need to do a full assessment of your unit tomorrow, together with the water damage restoration company. We’re doing all we can to respond to the situation. We’re also talking to your upstairs neighbor about the stipulation of his negligence.”
You nod along to his words.
Obviously, it’s his job to ensure everything’s taken care of, but still, you’re appreciative of the way they are going about the current situation. You’ve heard horror stories about tenants getting into arguments with their building managers or landlords when their apartments experience accidents.
“Can I ask about relocation?” You ask. You have to read your lease again to make sure.
“Unfortunately, it’s not indicated in your lease policy, but your renter’s insurance should cover it. You can also talk to your landlord about reducing your rent for this month due to the inconvenience.”
You nod, giving him a small smile. “Okay. Thank you.”
The plumber and some of the help the building manager employed to dry up your place from the accidental flood had already left a while ago, and soon, Mr. Han’s figure disappears entirely after a few seconds as you watch him walk down the flight of stairs and away from the building.
You can hear the loud whirring of the air movers placed inside your unit from where you stood on your porch. Your hair’s damp, including some spots on your work clothes from the water that trickled down your ceiling as you panicked earlier to pack some of your belongings in a medium-sized luggage you managed to grab in the timeframe.
It’s the state that Jungkook catches you in when you see him emerging from the stairs, looking like he also just got back from work.
“Hey, what happened?” Jungkook, with his brows furrowed, looks at you with worried eyes, sounding equally concerned.
You sigh. “Hey,” you greet weakly. “My apartment got flooded.”
“What?”
“It’s the upstairs neighbor. He apparently left his tub running while he went to work this afternoon,” You take a sharp breath, getting pissed again at the negligence. So goddamn stupid, really. “He flooded his own place and the water leaked to my ceiling, and when I got back home from work I was welcomed with two inches of water on my floor.”
“What the hell?” Jungkook says in disbelief. You nod at his reaction. That is exactly what you said when you heard the story from the property manager. “Are you okay?” He asks, and you appreciate it.
“Not sure about that.” You answer honestly.
Jungkook furrows his brows. “You called your landlord immediately?”
Letting out a sigh again, you nod and move to sit on your suitcase – the lonesome bag that you’re planning to bring with you to wherever the hell you’re going to stay tonight. You don’t even think you have enough clothes in it.
“My place is a complete wreck. Most of the water’s drained, though, and the building manager brought some help inside and they put air movers inside to dry the place right now.” You blow air to the strand of hair that escapes from your ponytail out of frustration. “It’s a shitshow, I know.”
“Good that they responded fast,” Jungkook comments, but concern is still etched on his face as he asks you, “Have you called your insurance company yet?”
“Yeah, we’re emailing right now.” You tell him, showing your phone. You hate sending email through such a small device but you left your laptop back at the office – which is kind of a good thing, now that you think about it – because it would’ve gotten flooded had you left it in your place.
“Did you document everything?”
Your response comes in a little curt.
“Yes, Jungkook. I did.” The onslaught questions just somehow seemed to prompt irritation in you, and you can’t help but add, “I know everything I have to do. I’m an adult.”
Predictably, you render Jungkook surprised.
“I— I didn’t mean it like that. I apologize.”
When you look up at him, you see his expression softening – and you feel bad for what you just did.
Chill, __. He’s just asking logical questions.
“No, I’m sorry,” You shake your head, feeling a little ashamed for bursting like that. You shouldn’t have talked to him like that, anyway. “I don’t know why I snapped, you’re just asking the important questions.”
Jungkook hesitantly hovers his hand on your shoulder, and the look he gives you seems to be asking for permission to touch you. You don’t even know if that’s his intention, but you give him a nod.
He smiles, tapping your shoulder for a brief second, saying, “It’s okay. You must be really stressed right now.”
“You think I can’t be calm in this situation?” You look at him with a blank expression. Jungkook’s taken aback and you witness the very split second his smile drops form his face, probably thinking he said something wrong. Then you can’t help it, you break. “I’m just fucking with you.”
Jungkook’s brows furrow as he sees you bursting into a gentle laugh, breaking your serious demeanor.
He shakes his head slowly, seemingly incredulous of the stunt you just pulled.
“You and your jokes…”
“You should’ve seen your face.”
“You got me.” Jungkook chuckles.
“I’m sorry… it’s just me trying to ignore the fact that my apartment literally got flooded and those loud and big ass fans they placed inside are about to tear my ears off.”
You see the way Jungkook’s face winces.
“Where are you staying for the night, then?” He asks.
“I don’t know,” you shrug, genuinely not sure about your options. “Probably gonna book a hotel or something.”
Of course you’ve thought about Jimin. He can probably easily help you find a place for the meantime but it’d probably be hard with him not being physically in the country just yet. Sol also crossed your mind, but you remember she has a roommate.
Getting a hotel to temporarily stay at is the most obvious option there is. It would be too much of a hassle, not to mention expensive, but—
“You can stay at mine for the night.”
You think you’re getting around to Jungkook offering you help without you even asking – but it doesn’t mean you still don’t get a little taken aback when he gives it so willingly and so quickly like this.
“No.” You shake your head.
“Seriously.” Jungkook stares at you.
You stare at him right back.
“I can’t.”
“Why?” He raised his brow.
“I can’t think of reasons right now.”
“You don’t need to think at all.”
You squint your eyes at him, he does the same.
Soon enough, Jungkook breaks first and laughs.
“Come on! You’re gonna freeze in here.”
Hesitantly, you say, “… Are you sure?”
“What are you worried about?” He cocks his head to the side, awaiting your response.
Well. There’s a lot to be worried about.
There’s the thing where you always just seem to be caught into some shit and then he catches you right exactly in it. It’s starting to get embarrassing.
But Jungkook just doesn’t really seem to mind it.
“Nothing, really.” Is what you weakly settled for.
“Okay…” He trails off, raising a brow, obviously a bit confused. “Then what’s the big deal? Do you really want to go through the hassle of picking out hotels and booking a room at this hour? You have to go to work tomorrow.”
You visibly wince at the mention of work.
He’s right and you kind of hate it.
“You’re right…” you say after a while.
“You’re staying at mine?” Jungkook asks again, in which you nod your head in confirmation.
You stand up from your suitcase and pull up the handle. Then you look at him sincerely to give him a smile. “Thank you. I think this is like the five hundredth time this kind of thing happened between you and I.”
“Not counting.” Jungkook shrugs. “Have you had dinner yet?”
You nod your head. “I went with a friend— a co-worker.”
Jungkook visibly stills.
“The guy from a few days ago at the restaurant around work?”
You perk up at that, surprised he still recalls that day.
“Yeah, that’s him. Taemu. From the IT dep.”
He nods. You don’t know if he’s interested or not.
You think it’s a bit random that he brought that up, though, but you shake the thoughts away and call his name.
Jungkook looks at you.
“Thank you.” You say, hoping he hears the sincerity in your voice.
He chuckles. “You’re welcome,” Jungkook then gestures to the luggage you’re holding. “Let me.”
Jungkook doesn’t wait for you to say yes before he takes the handle from you and carries the luggage with him to the direction of his place just across from yours.
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You consciously try to make your steps lighter as you walk out of the shower box, making your way towards your suitcase to check on the clothes you packed.
When you open it, you thank the heavens that there are underwear – and a lot of them, for the record – but as you rummage around some more, you find that other than your work clothes, you only have nightwear inside. And when you say nightwear, not the comfortable cotton pajama kind but the nightie one – and that basically means the baby blue silky set of tiny camisole and shorts that can pass as a pair of panties.
I can’t possibly wear these, you think to yourself, hastily burying the pieces of clothing in the bottom of your luggage.
It shouldn’t mean anything – those are nightwear after all! But it was already embarrassing to ask Jungkook earlier if you could use his shower and his towel. You can’t come out of the bathroom wearing clothes that Jimin once tagged as “slutty pjs”. Not when you’re in Jungkook’s place.
“__?”
You look over to the door when you hear Jungkook’s voice, a knock following.
“Yes?” You answer.
“Do you have clothes in there?”
At the question, your gaze automatically falls to the suitcase where the thin strap of the camisole peeks out in between some other clothes that are completely useless for the night.
With hesitance, you say, “Uhm… do you possibly have a shirt I can borrow? I promise to clean it and return it to you tomorrow, ASAP.”
You hear him chuckle from the other side. “I brought you some. There’s also a pair of sweatpants but I’m not sure if they’ll fit you.”
It’s hard to not celebrate silently when Jungkook says that – but you might have jumped a little at his words.
When you walk towards the door and open it, you give Jungkook a huge smile as you tell him, “Thanks!”
He stops. And then you stop.
You realize you’re only in your towel – his towel, to be exact.
You feel the blood rushing to your cheeks the moment it registers.
Before you can do or say anything, Jungkook moves on quickly and stretches his arm, thrusting the clothes he’s mentioned into your way.
“There.” He says simply, smiling at you.
You take them from his hand, giving him a smile too, albeit a bit awkward.
“T-thanks.”
Jungkook turns on his heel to leave, and you lock the door to the bathroom as soon as he walks away.
You settle his clothes on top of the flat surface of the lavatory, physically shaking your head as you look at yourself in the mirror to shake your thoughts away.
Thoughts of his slightly parted lips when you opened the door while you’re only in a towel.
But it happened in such a split second that you’re not sure if it even happened.
When you take his white shirt, it feels soft to the touch and there’s a scent of fresh laundry that wafts through your nose when you wear it on yourself.
It’s loose on you, the sleeves almost covering your whole arms and the hem stopping mid-thigh. But because of that, it feels comfortable – like the oversized shirts you wear to bed that you, unfortunately, weren’t able to pack with you in the heap of panic.
But the pants show a different case. It’s so big that it drags on the floor as you wear it.
You made do, though; drawing the strings tightly and and knotting them together, pulling up the gartered hems up to your calf.
When you come out of the bathroom, Jungkook welcomes you with nothing but a towel wrapped around his lower half.
“H-hey,” You stammer, eyes meeting his own to avoid looking at his naked torso.
“I was just going in. You done?” He casually says, as if he doesn’t mind being naked in front of you.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m done. Thanks for the clothes.” You say, gesturing across your body.
“Looks good.” Jungkook comments before entering the bathroom.
You think your cheeks just got impossibly hotter.
The sound of water running is heard before you scramble to the living room.
Why was he naked?!
Okay, he wasn’t actually naked naked but still, he had no clothes on. Why did he have no clothes on? You’re trying to erase the image of his torso, the lines that draw an obvious four-pack, his firm-looking chest, and the way the tattoos over his right arm apparently go way above his shoulder. It’s obvious that he goes to the gym and works out from the way those polo sleeves of his always hug his biceps a little too tight – and with a body like that, you completely understand why he wouldn’t mind parading it around.
The AC in his unit is turned on, but it suddenly feels way too hot from where you currently sit on his couch.
Shut up. Ugh. You tell yourself internally.
Completely wanting out of that headspace, you decide to take out your iPad to get in contact with your insurance company to discuss your current situation, and it does a good job of keeping your mind off Jungkook for a while.
You’re so deep in the activity that you don’t even notice a few minutes has already gone by, and with that, you don’t notice Jungkook coming out of the shower.
When you see him in your periphery, he’s now thankfully dressed in a shirt and some basketball shorts. He’s drying his hair as he walks over to your direction in the living room.
You look at him in surprise when you notice the pillow and comforter he has in his hands.
“Sorry. You should’ve called me, I could’ve helped,” you say, standing up from the couch, ready to help him with it, assuming that you’ll be on the couch tonight.
Jungkook looks at you with furrowed brows. “I’m taking the couch.”
You stare at him, ready to hear him say he’s kidding or something but he doesn’t look like he’s joking.
You shake your head vigorously.
“No, that’s ridiculous.”
“What’s ridiculous about it?” Jungkook says, putting the pillows on the couch, starting to make it all the while looking at you through the process to engage.
“It’s your place.” You reason.
“And you’re my guest.” He says as a matter of fact.
“But—”
Jungkook cuts you off before you can even finish your sentence.
“__, it’s fine, really. You can take my bed. I insist.”
“Jungkook…” you trail off, sounding more like a whine.
He laughs and then looks at you with a playful smile. “Okay, should we compromise? Like, what, share the bed or the couch?”
You ignore the way your cheeks heat up at the suggestion.
You honestly don’t know why Jungkook says these kinds of things. You know it’s just his usual teasing, but he’s about to confuse you one of these days…
“God, no.” You respond with a shake of your head.
He chuckles. “Oh, is sleeping with me that repulsive to you?”
You push a little at his shoulder and roll your eyes.
When Jungkook’s done fixing the couch, he gestures to the door by the far end of the room. “Come on, I'll take you to the bedroom.”
You both walk towards that direction and as much as you’ve been over his place for more than once now, you’ve actually never seen his room – and for the record, why would you?
But it looks nice. Just like the rest of his apartment’s interior, his room is also almost the same. Kind of bare, but there are some sleek furniture that add character to the whole place.
“Too cold?” Jungkook asks, and you look at him to see him holding the remote of his AC.
“The temp’s fine.”
He hums and puts down the remote.
“Alright, then. Just call me if you need something.” Jungkook says, gesturing to the door. He’s about to leave when you call him again.
“Good night, Jungkook. Thank you for your bed.”
“Good night, __. Uh… sweet dreams?”
You roll your eyes. Jungkook laughs.
When he leaves, you sit on his mattress covered by black duvets and sheets. It’s soft, and you let yourself bounce on the fluffy surface, delighting at the feel.
It’s about the same size as yours, and when you lay on it, you smell that usual scent that Jungkook always emanates. Clean, crisp, a little sweet. Like fresh apples. Or fresh laundry. He just always smells so… clean.
You feel a little sense of strangeness at the different environment you’re in, but the bed is too soft that you feel like you’re almost floating – and maybe it’s because you are tired from work and drained from the whole fiasco at your apartment, but you fall asleep fast and heavy within just a few minutes.
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You almost jump from the bed when you open your eyes and see a different type of bedding, only to realize that you’re actually not in your apartment and in Jungkook’s instead.
After processing that, you begin to do a little stretching, finding that you slept quite well. As you do so, your eyes catch the digital clock on the bedside table, and you read 4:30 am.
It’s a bit too early to start getting ready for work, but maybe if you start prepping now, you’ll be ready to go out just as when Jungkook is waking up.
When you stand from the bed, you discover the absence of pants around your waist, the cold air sending goosebumps over your bare legs – and as expected, you see the sweats getting caught in between the heaps of dark sheets on the bed.
You must have taken it off in the middle of the night. It’s why you usually forgo pants when you sleep.
You decide against wearing it again, though, assuming that Jungkook is still sound asleep by now so he can’t possibly see you walking around his place naked from the waist down. Besides, the shirt’s big and almost serves as a dress.
Carrying the pants with you, you silently open the door to his bedroom to tiptoe on your way to the bathroom.
“Hey,”
“Jesus christ!” You clutch your heart at the sudden sound of Jungkook’s voice booming across the unit.
When you look at him, he’s… working out. Apparently.
Jungkook takes out the airpods from his ears and drink from his tumbler.
“What are you tiptoeing for?” He asks, brows furrowed.
From where you stand, you see droplets of sweat on the side of his forehead, his chest heaving from the push-ups you catch him doing a few seconds ago on the mat that he laid on the floor. There are small weights on the side, and Jungkook is still wearing his clothes from last night.
Did he possibly just… wake up and then choose to exercise? Is this his everyday routine?
“I didn’t want to wake you,” you make up an excuse that’s kind of partly true. He slept on the couch in the living room, after all. And from the sala, everything is pretty much visible to the eye as the unit has an open layout. So one single noise could’ve awakened him.
“Too late for that,” Jungkook chuckles. He looks at you longer than a second and you’re just about to get conscious when he asks, “You get ready for work at four?”
You purse your lips into a thin line. “Sort of. I also have to check my place.” Jungkook nods, understanding. “Uh, Jungkook?” He hums to acknowledge you. “Can I use your shower? Again?”
He laughs at the way you smile at him awkwardly. “Sure. Your towel’s just over the rack.”
“Thanks.” You smile at him and go straight to the bathroom.
You make quick work of washing yourself, and the shower, just like last night, isn’t your usual routine because of course, most of your stuff are still over at your place. Though Jungkook is kind enough to lend you some of his unused products – even giving you a spare toothbrush which now sits beside his own on the bathroom sink.
When you finish showering, you wear his shirt and his pants once again. As you go out of the bathroom, the sound of oil popping from the kitchen doesn’t escape your ears.
“I made breakfast.” Jungkook says as you make your way towards the kitchen island. He’s a few steps away, working around the stove, frying up some sausage. He takes some eggs and then turns to you. “How do you like your eggs?”
You’re sure he doesn’t mean anything by that, but then you both laugh at the realization anyway.
“Sunny side up.” You say after a while, seating yourself on one of the high stools. “Can I help you?”
“It’s okay, just sit there.”
You put your elbow on the island as you watch him work. “Wow, do you really treat all your guests like this?” You tease, deciding to poke a joke.
Jungkook laughs as he starts breaking eggs into the frying pan.
“You’re the first one.” He raises a brow your way, lips tilted into a playful smile.
“Awe.” You pretend to curtsy which makes Jungkook laugh.
It doesn’t take long before Jungkook serves you a plate of sausage and perfectly-made sunny side up. You say a delighted “thank you!” in which Jungkook returns an adorable smile for.
You thought he was going to eat with you, but he only ate the sausage and began to work on cutting up some bananas while you continued to eat.
“What did they say about your apartment? How long is the repair?” Jungkook asks while he takes out a mixer.
“Week-long,” He visibly winces at your answer. You purse your lips. “I’m trying to look for a place to stay for the remaining days.”
Jungkook furrows his brows. “Lease doesn’t cover relocation?”
“Talked to the building manager and the landlord last night and they said it doesn’t. I also read the policy again myself last night, though, just to be sure. Anyway, landlord’s cutting my rent this month for up to thirty, so that’s something.”
“Okay… how about your stuff?”
As you watch Jungkook during the whole conversation, you realize that he’s apparently making a protein shake, and when he finishes shaking the bottle, he gestures it towards you, silently asking if you want to try it.
You shake your head, also answering his question. “I already filed a claim on it with my insurance company, so they’re handling it for me. They’re probably going to seek reimbursement from my upstairs neighbor’s insurance if he has one,” You shrug. “And I’m also gonna have to ask him to pay for the deductible.”
Jungkook nods, consuming his drink. You watch as he leans back on the kitchen sink, putting his protein shake down and crossing his arms, looking right at you.
“Why don’t you stay here for a while?”
You look right back at him weird.
“You’re not serious.”
“When am I not serious?”
You hold a staring competition after that, but Jungkook’s eyes are way too intense so you break away first.
“I just can’t.” You say, interrupting the silence.
“It’s friend to a friend. I bet you’d do this for me too.” Jungkook shrugs.
He doesn’t understand, though. Staying at his place for the remaining six days would mean that you’d be both living under the same roof together, and while it’s true that you would probably do this for him if he was in your shoes, it’s just not the same.
But you don’t want to get into all that. It’s too complicated to explain, even to yourself.
So you decide to joke a little.
“Probably not.” You tease.
Jungkook chuckles. “Mean.” He comments, shaking his head at you and playfully clicking his tongue.
“I’m joking,” you smile apologetically. “It’s just for six more days, though. The manager told me it might take faster.”
“Where do plan to stay, anyway? A hotel would be really inconvenient. The nearest one around here is too far from work, not to mention it’d be expensive as well.”
“There’s loss of use coverage,” You say, even though you know the stipulation, and your apartment flooding because of your neighbor’s negligence might probably not be in the clauses.
It’s just to reason with Jungkook, but he’s quick to present another point.
“It’s gonna take a long while, no?”
You pout. Sighing, you say, “You’re right.”
“Okay, so why not stay here?” Jungkook asks curiously. “You know I don’t mind. I won’t mind.” He says and it sounds so convincing and genuine.
You decide to deflect a little because you feel like giving in any seconds now.
“You say that but wait until you find that I’m not very likeable as a roommate.”
Jungkook raises a brow. “Shoot. Hit me.”
Pursing your lips into a thin line, you try to think of your bad habits.
“I…” you trail off, but it stretches into seconds way longer than necessary.
Jungkook chuckles. “See, you can’t even list one.”
“I don’t cook.” You point out.
“I already know that.”
You frown. “So we can’t take turns cooking while I stay here.”
Jungkook only shrugs. “There’s take-out.”
“You’re gonna eat take-out for a week?”
“I can cook.” He chuckles.
“Okay… but sometimes, I get super cranky.”
He nods. “I’ll be out of your way, then. You won’t even notice I’m here.”
You sigh, out of reasons now.
“I’ll try to be helpful with you in the kitchen for the next six days. And I’ll also be nice.”
Jungkook’s brows perk up. “You’re saying you want to stay here?”
“Yeah,” you nod. “But… I wan to pay you.”
“__, the whole reason why I’m offering is because a hotel is gonna cost you,” Jungkook laughs.
That prompts you to put a frown on your face.
“Fair point. But I’m going to take your couch the entire time, okay? And that’s final.”
It takes a little longer for Jungkook to agree to that. But he nods his head, anyway, saying, “Sure.”
It sounds so non-committal. You think he's going to still try insisting taking the couch.
“Okay.” You say, ignoring that thought, smiling at him. “Thank you.”
“You know you’re always welcome, right?” Jungkook says.
You’re thankful he turns around after he says that to tend to the stuff he used a while ago in the sink, giving you a perfect leeway to avoid his gaze lest he takes notice of the way you can’t help a big smile.
“I’m gonna take a shower. Finish your breakfast.” He says, pointing to your unfinished plate. 
You give him a small salute.
Before he goes to the direction of the bathroom, Jungkook turns around to ask. "Do you want to go to work together?" He raises a brow, but then a second after his question, he puts a hand up, effectively stopping you from answering. "You're gonna say no. But I insist. Say yes, I made you breakfast." 
You laugh at his squinted eyes. 
"I was going to say yes, anyway."
"No, you weren't." Jungkook fires back. 
You shoo him away playfully before he finally leave for the shower.
All you can think about is that maybe silver linings are indeed true.
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Sharing a space with somebody has always felt… weird.
You had a roommate back in college for the whole four years, and while it wasn’t the worst thing that ever happened to you – it was just an experience that didn’t really strike you as something memorable or fun. Min Heeji was a Bio major who was an extreme introvert, and past the casual hi’s and hello’s, you both just never hit it off.
After moving out of your dorm, you rented around Itaewon. You found the unit through a listing you saw on Facebook – some woman who was finding a roommate to split the rent with. You found out later that the reason why the previous people before you left was because she was quite an interesting lady… let’s just say – she was a person who dabbled on the arts of illegal drug trading. Jimin jokingly told you he wondered about how her weed tasted like. Sometimes, you want to smack him on the head.
You pretty much decided on being against roommates for the entirety of your life after that.
But Jeon Jungkook is thankfully not a total hermit, nor does he sell weed.
It’s been long since you lived with somebody, and being under the same roof as him is different – the good kind of different, to be clear.
He’s somewhat a clean freak so it’s almost embarrassing to do anything in his place because it’s always so spot clean.
One thing that you learned though is that he’s a busy man. You had an idea about a packed schedule and non-existent free time for an executive person like him – but the idea feels more real now that you’ve witnessed it.
On the first day of your stay, after your apartment got flooded, he drove you both to work just like he offered. During the night, though, he seemed to have come home late. You slept at around 10pm and never saw him entering the door, and when you woke up the next day, he’s gone, only a note on the fridge telling you that he’s prepared some breakfast you can heat up to eat.
Nonetheless, you feel into quite an easy routine with him.
After a great deal of insistence from your side, Jungkook is rightfully assigned in his bedroom while you lay on the couch. It’s a bit bigger than the one you have on your own, so there’s space for moving around. Even when you wake up with shitty back pains in the mornings, sleeping on his couch is better than sleeping in your current wreck of an apartment as the contractor is already repairing your place.
As of the third day since the incident, they’ve already changed your ceiling, the flooring coming next. It was starting to look good as per your visit.
That made it clearer to you, though, that you’re indeed staying at Jungkook’s for another four days.
Jungkook was so busy that he even worked on a Saturday – told you that it was a hectic week for his team over a shared dinner that you thought will happen only once during your stay with his packed schedule. On Sunday, you kind of assumed that Jungkook will still be at the office, but he surprised you when he came barging in the bathroom while you were in it.
You had your leg propped on the edge of the bathtub, squeezing the bottle of lotion in your palm and spreading the cream over the skin of your shin, adjusting the towel up your thighs so you can cover your entire leg with the product.
You did so mindlessly, part of your usual after-shower routine, completely unassuming of the sound of the doorknob clicking and Jungkook suddenly barging inside the room with a hamper in his hand.
Frozen in your position, your eyes locked into his own as he stepped a foot forward on the tiled floor. You realized the hamper is his laundry.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you were here,” Jungkook apologized, and he looked genuinely bashful.
“I thought you were at work.” you said, adjusting the towel on the top of your head.
Jungkook raised a brow, but there’s a smile on his lips. “On a Sunday?”
You narrowed your eyes at him which prompted him to laugh. A beat of silence, and then you noticed Jungkook’s gaze. You felt his eyes to the direction of your raised leg on the porcelain tub – and if your own sight didn’t deceive you, you could’ve sworn he’d made a quick glance-over to the expanse of your bare leg before he snapped right back into looking at your face.
“Anyway, I was just gonna do my laundry,” Jungkook twisted himself away from the bathroom’s door. “I’ll wait for you to finish, though. I’m sorry again for barging in.”
At that, you quickly shook your head and planted both your feet on the tiles, standing upright.
“No, it’s fine. I’m done, anyway. Are you in a hurry? I just need to change into some… clothes.” You said, glancing at the heap of some pajama pants and a t-shirt on the bathroom sink.
“Not in a hurry. You can change here.” Jungkook gave you a small smile.
You nodded your head. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I’ll be super quick.”
Your lips curled into an apologetic smile, but Jungkook waved you off.
He took one last look at you before he locked the door – one thing that you forgot to do in the very first place.
You blamed it on your habit of not really being mindful about it since you were used to living alone.
The day after that – one fateful Monday – Jungkook once again was MIA at his own place. You woke around 6 am, and as you got ready for work, you noticed a note on his fridge that he went to work earlier than usual that day, and he’d also be working late so you should lock up at night.
At the company, you did not even catch a single glimpse of him.
You bought some food on your way to his place later that day, thinking that maybe you could share a meal together – nevermind the fact that he had told you he was going to be home late. But you did not expect his “late” would exceed past 11 pm, and since you were also pretty much tired from your own activities for that day, you fell asleep on the couch without making it, lying on the surface with no pillows and comforter over your body.
In your dreams that night, you felt like you were floating.
Somebody has tucked their arms under your knees and neck, taking you off the previous surface you were lying on. The unfamiliar man cradles your body against his, carrying you somewhere and putting you on a much softer place. A mattress. A big, soft, mattress. And you noted that the man smelled of green apples and laundry. An almost familiar scent.
Needless to say, your dream was quite vivid that night.
When you woke up the next morning, you were welcomed with the familiar grey paint of the walls – the white ceiling, and the dark sheets and pillows that surrounded you. A waft of fresh laundry smell. The Iron Man figurine on the top shelf of the cabinet in the corner of the room. The black slippers on the side of the door that are way too big to be yours.
Jungkook.
The strange man in your dreams was Jungkook. And it wasn’t a dream at all.
It was Jeon Jungkook who carried you all the way to his bedroom from the sofa so you could sleep comfortably on it.
When you went out of his room that morning, ready to thank him and tell him he didn’t have to do what he did, feeling bad at the thought of him sleeping on his couch at his own place, Jungkook was nowhere to be found.
But as if it was becoming tradition, there was a note on his fridge that told you: I hope you don’t mind that I brought you to my room. I found you uncomfortable on the couch last night. Didn’t cook us breakfast because I have to go to work early again today, but I’ll have food delivered at around 7. Good morning, __ :)
     — Jungkook.
That night, though, Jungkook miraculously came home early.
He arrived an hour after you, just in time as you finished doing the prep for the bibimbap you were planning to eat on your own, assuming Jungkook was going to be late again. When you saw him entering the door, you decided to make the portions of the ingredients bigger, thinking that it was the perfect opportunity to say thank you for the other night.
And you did not forget to say that either.
“Thank you for last night. You didn’t have to…” you trailed off, giving him a sheepish smile across the dining table as you both ate.
Jungkook, with his mouth full of rice – seemingly (thankfully) enjoying the meal you prepared for him – munched on it before he said, “You looked real tired. And uncomfortable, which reminds me, you should sleep in the bedroom as well tonight.”
You shook your head. “It’s fine, Jungkook. Last night was just – uh, I was waiting for you to come home because I didn’t want to just lounge around your living room while you aren’t around, but then I guessed you arrived a little late.”
Out of all the things you’d said, it seemed Jungkook only remembered one thing.
“You were waiting for me to come home?” He said, his hand reaching for the side dish pausing mid-air, eyes trained to you. Curious, his brow piqued in what seemed like genuine intrigue.
You stopped. You went over your words, not realizing those came out of your mouth.
Obviously, you didn’t mean for that to slip out.
So, you shook your head slowly. Hesitantly, you reasoned, “It’s just you’re always in your room first before I fix the couch for bedtime. So.” You shrugged, knowing your explanation didn’t suffice.
Jungkook gave you a nod with small a smile on his lips.
“I’m sorry for making you wait, then. It’s just extra busy at the company these days.”
Your brows furrowed in curiosity, “Yeah, I heard about the collaboration with Kang Tech.”
You found out about it at work that day. It’s in the accounts payable you’ve worked on the past few days, and when you asked Joonhwi and Sol about it, they confirmed the recent moves the company is recently making.
You also realized then that the reason why the mystery woman in the elevator was familiar to you was because you’ve seen pictures of her before.
Of course you’d know her. She’s the woman Jimin’s parents are trying to set him up with. The one and only Kang Heesu. She took over as CEO just very recently at Kang Tech.
Apparently, Blue Nexus and Kang Tech are collaborating on a product that will be announced later during the month – which explains her being at the company oftentimes, Jungkook being busy, drowned with work stuff – them working closely together.
Whatever you felt on that day you saw them together – you’d like to dismiss that as just a blip in the system. Your system, to be exact.
It isn’t any of your business whoever gets around with Jungkook. Whether he’s close with Kang Heesu outside work or not (like what you’ve pondered about ever since finding out about the information of their collaboration) – that’s their thing.
“Yeah, the team’s been working overtime because of it.” Jungkook added to your words from earlier.
“So, you’re more tired than I am,” You pointed out, noting the obvious. He went to work at the ass-crack of dawn, went home late, and whenever he was home – all he faced was his laptop.
You even doubt he was getting enough sleep. There were bags under his eyes that weren’t there the past month you first met him – and even though he carried them with a certain grace, you could still see that some of the shine in his eyes was becoming absent.
You were glad you were able to prepare something for him. Did something for him. You didn’t have to – but you did. Because you wanted to be a helpful roommate.
“Does it show?” Jungkook chuckled, leaning back on the chair, a bashful expression on his face.
You shook your head. “Nope. But yeah, you don’t need to give up your bedroom tonight. I’ll be fine here.”
“I actually bought something. Wait a minute,” Jungkook suddenly said. Your brows furrowed when you watched him saunter over the living room and in towards his bedroom. When he came back to the dining area, he was carrying a huge paper bag. You looked at him, visibly confused. Jungkook cleared his throat as he sat back down on his seat. “I was thinking you could use this. It’s a foldable cushion or whatever so you can sleep more comfortably on the couch.”
You gawked at the paper bag, and then at him.
“What?”
“I went to the mall yesterday and the lady told me this is one of their best sellers… I don’t know. Do you want to have a look at it?” Jungkook said, worry seeping in his tone.
“That’s a… cushion? For the couch?”
He nodded.
“Oh.” Was the only thing you could utter. You didn’t really know what to say. “I… this is really thoughtful. You didn’t have to, you know that, right?”
Jungkook shook his head and gave you a small smile.
“Thank you, Jungkook.” You told him sincerely.
“It’s nothing.” He waved you off. “I got that dry-cleaned already, by the way, so you can use it tonight if you really insist on sleeping on the couch.” Jungkook said with a teasing smile.
“That,” you point to the paper bag, “will single-handedly get me to want to live here for another three months.”
Jungkook raised his brow. “Really?”
You chuckled, leaving the conversation up on the air.
When you both finished your meal, you offered to do the dishes yourself, but Jungkook was insistent to do it, saying you’ve already done a lot for the day. You begged to differ, but you relented, anyway.
After you showered and made the couch, geeking internally at how soft the cushion he bought was, you couldn’t sleep right away, your mind finding it hard to focus on the lull of the crickets. So, at around 11 pm, you opened your laptop to pull up an X-Files episode, thinking it could condition you into being sleepy.
You promised yourself you were just going to finish one more episode, but the next episode button was too tempting and you found yourself binging the show into the wee hours of the night.
“__?” A voice coming from the far end of the room called, followed by the clicking sound of the lights turning on. With that, you found Jungkook standing on his door with his eyes half-lidded, hands rubbing his chest, seemingly having just woken up from his sleep.
“Jungkook,” you acknowledged him, straying your attention from your show. Jungkook started to trot towards the direction of the kitchen, and your eyes followed him as he stopped in front of his fridge, taking some water out and pouring it into a glass.
After he drank it, he looked at you to ask, “Can’t sleep?” You nodded your head. He made his way towards the couch, pointing at it. “Would you mind?”
“No, do you want to?” You adjusted the duvet you put all over your back to make room for him, and Jungkook placed himself beside you, peering over the screen on your laptop.
“What are you watching?” He asked, voice a little groggy.
“The X-Files. You know the show?”
“Heard about it a few times. Never gotten around to watch it, though,” Jungkook said, leaning on the back of the couch, eyes still glued to your laptop.
You smiled. “Maybe you can start it now.”
“What’s it about?”
“Uh… aliens,” you started off, feeling a little silly about it. Gauging his reaction, you waited for him to give you a judgmental look but he seemed to be intrigued when he looked at you, asking for more details. You perked up that, feeling suddenly excited. “Okay, so, the guy here – his name’s Mulder. He’s an FBI agent who’s tasked on cases that have, you know, unexplainable nature. Basically, he believes in aliens, all that ET stuff,” you explained. Right on time, Gillian Anderson appears on frame. Pointing at her, you looked at Jungkook as you introduced her to him, “And the woman – she’s so pretty – that’s Scully. She’s a skeptic. She’s an FBI agent who’s also a scientist and was assigned to be with him to debunk his work.”
“So, they investigate cases together?” Jungkook added.
You nodded your head. “Yeah, and it’s different for each episode. There’s the alien storyline which is like, the main plot of the show, but there’s the fun filler episodes. Monster of the week, they call it. I’m rewatching one of those right now ‘cause they’re fun and don’t have a backstory.”
“It sounds good,” Jungkook looked impressed, training his eyes back on the show.
You weren’t sure if he was just trying to make a conversation, but he seemed genuinely interested as you both watched the show, which tickled your excitement more. You’ve tried to get Jimin into it but he wasn’t really an avid fan of watching long shows, so you’ve given up on trying to convince him to be as obsessive of the show as you.
“Do they kiss?” Jungkook suddenly asked mid-episode, brows furrowed as he watched Mulder wiped something off the side of Scully’s lips. It’s the episode when Scully just got back from being abducted.
Amused, you looked at him and let out a chuckle. Jungkook turned to look at you, confused at the reaction.
“Hm?”
You shook your head. “No, it’s just funny. So, there’s a thing in this show, right? Scully and Mulder are not supposed to be a couple, but they act like one.”
Jungkook let out a seemingly enlightened, “Ah.” Then he looked at your screen again, “I’m watching it right now out of context and I’m assuming they’re a couple.”
“Right? They have such insane chemistry. It’s why I love this show so much.”
“Wait. They never get together? Or kiss, romantically?” Jungkook asked curiously.
“They kiss on the seventh season. We’re on the second one.”
“Wow,” He breathed, genuinely surprised. “That’s a long wait.”
“I know,” you chuckled.
You both sat beside each other as the episode finished. Jungkook would have some questions, and you happily answered each one. It was also fun to share some lore about the show – and you didn’t know if you were coming off too geeky about it – you were just unbelievably excited that he seemed to genuinely like it.
Time passed without you both noticing, and it was 2:23 am when you became hesitant on clicking the next episode button.
“Do you still want to watch another one or…” You trailed off, eyes glued to the screen, waiting to hear Jungkook’s response. But then a few seconds passed, and you didn’t receive one. Turning your head to the side, your eyes widened when you see the state Jungkook was in.
He was leaning far back on the couch with his head resting on the backrest, arms crossed over his chest, lips slightly parted with his eyes shut closed. You could see his chest rising and falling from the way he breathed in and out of sleep, looking quite peaceful regardless of his seemingly uncomfortable position.
You shut your mouth and closed your laptop quietly, trying to be careful with your movements so as to not disturb him and accidentally wake him up. Stretching your back to lean down, your breath hitched as you tried to set the laptop down on the coffee table, not daring to graze any part of Jungkook’s body, especially when his thigh was so closed to your own.
When you successfully put away the device, you went back to sitting beside him, contemplating on your next move.
You ended up staring at him, noting the way his biceps are bulging out of the sleeves of his white shirt with a thin material from their crossed position. Your eyes trailed down to the veins on his forearms, and naturally, you focused in on the one with the swirls of ink around it. It was a body of art on the first look – but looking at it at that moment – close up and free, you took time to identify the drawings on his skin.
There was that snake that trailed down close to his hand, the skeletal rock n’ roll hand, and the script that says “rather be dead than cool”. It was a shame that you couldn’t see from your current view the flower tattoo you were always curious about, nevertheless, the entirety of his inked arm was just… breathtaking, to say the least.
You wanted to ask him what they meant – or if they even meant something. You knew by now he only got them in college – when he moved to the US – and you were just curious about how he decided to get them; about the backstory, anything… Would love to trace down your fingers on his skin as he tells you the exact moment.
And then you realized what you were doing and suddenly looked away.
You felt like a creep. What were you doing, staring at him while he was unaware, unconscious in his sleep? It was not right, and you were supposed to scoot over to the edge to give him plenty of space all for himself.
But as you looked at him again, your eyes stopped at his face, and you couldn’t help but stare at it.
Again.
His nose was something you weirdly have a liking to, and there’s a scar on his cheek that once again bubbled up another layer of curiosity within you.
“Stop it.” You mumbled out loud – not loud enough for Jungkook to hear – but just enough to snap yourself out of the trance you were in.
It was stupid. So stupid. To stare at a sleeping man and have those thoughts inside your head. Jungkook would never do anything like this to you, and at that sentiment, you stood up from the couch to get away.
You caught a sight of the duvet that you used a while ago. As you looked at Jungkook, he seemed to be in dire need of one, so you made quiet steps to put it over him, stopping your breathing in case you did it too loud and he wakes up.
As you carefully laid out the blanket on top of his body, Jungkook stirred, and your breath hitched as you stopped on your tracks.
He mumbled something incoherent, his neck craning to lay on his cheek. Regardless, he stayed on his position, arms still crossed, seemingly going back to his deep sleep instantly.
You stepped out in front of him, letting out a breath of relief.
Standing there for a few seconds, you wondered about where you were going to stay. Jungkook was on the couch and unlike him – you could not carry him to his room without him noticing.
Looking at the direction of said room, you thought about staying there for the night, but decide against it. You didn’t get his permission to do so, it’d be rude—
But the couch is only one, though. And you could feel a yawn ready to come out of your own mouth, sleep lurking at the back of your head.
You could try to wake Jungkook up to tell him to go to his room so he could sleep more comfortably, but you couldn’t do it. The past few days, he had been so busy with work and seemed like he wasn’t getting enough rest. What if you woke him up and he couldn’t go back to sleep anymore? That would just make you feel bad.
Getting the pillow strewn over the edge, you walked towards the direction and fixed it against the arm rest, sitting on the spot and making yourself comfortable on it. Of course, it wasn’t – you were craning your neck too far to the side to try to lay your head, and your body was sprawled in a weird sitting and lying position.
It was fine, though. Jungkook was about two feet away from you, and you felt like you could sleep in the state.
But it was a few long minutes before it completely overtook you.
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There’s a feeling of a hard plane against your back when you feel yourself waking up.
You’re in a curled position, hands tucked under your cheeks. As much as you’re starting to slowly feel conscious, you’re still not a hundred percent aware of your surroundings just yet. It’s why you ignore the blow of hot air against the crook of your neck.
When you blearily open your eyes, you’re welcomed with the sight of the back of the grey couch you’ve accustomed yourself with over the past few days. The white foldable cushion you’re lying on. The familiar scent of Jungkook’s apartment.
It’s another usual morning, as far as you’re concerned.
So, you stretch an arm up as well as your leg, groggily mumbling something as you go back to closing your eyes again to hopefully sneak in a few more minutes of sleep.
“Hmm…”
At the sudden sound, your eyes snap open, surprised at the embodied voice that came out somewhere that’s definitely not from your own mouth. It was close, though – something close to your neck; you felt it so – and at that realization, your eyes trail down to your waist, and your breath catches in your throat when you see an arm wrapped around it.
Under your head is another arm that adorns a familiar sleeve tattoo.
When you crane your neck to look behind you, you’re welcomed by Jungkook’s locks of black and messy hair, his face apparently buried in the crook of your neck.
He must’ve felt you move because he stirs in his position, mumbling something, arm tightening around you.
You feel your heart starting to beat faster than usual as you feel the tips of Jungkook’s fingers resting on the bare skin of your stomach due to your camisole riding up, and your eyes continue to widen when you saw that the shirt he’s worn last night is now lying haphazardly across the coffee table where your laptop is.
When Jungkook pushes himself against you closer, that’s when you feel something hard against the cleft of your ass.
“Oh my god!”
“What the fuck!”
“I’m so sorry!” You immediately say, retreating your hands that just pushed him off the couch once everything registered in your head.
You just… slept with each other! You woke up with Jungkook spooning you! The hard plane against your back that you felt earlier was his chest and the hot air blowing in your ear was his breath! You both fell asleep together on the couch!
Jungkook – the poor man – visibly winces as he cradles the back of his head, adjusting himself on the floor after you forcefully yeeted him off the couch.
He didn’t expect that, of course he didn’t! He still looks like he’s half asleep when you kneel on the floor in front of him, grabbing his shoulders and craning your neck to check if you’ve done damage to his head.
“What the hell was that for?” Jungkook asks, still lost about what just happened.
You grimace as you hesitantly put your palm over the back of his head and rub to soothe the pain you’ve caused him.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you. I was just surprised and shocked when I–”
You stopped speaking when you notice that Jungkook is looking up at you, eyes half-lidded from sleep. Stopping your ministration on the back of his head, you retreat your hands to yourself and look away.
“We slept together.”
“What?” Jungkook asks, his tone incredulous, but more like confused. When you train your eyes to him again, you see him looking down on his body and then yours.
Your cheeks heat up when you realize what you just said.
“Oh my god, no! Not slept slept with each other! I mean, we slept together. Like, literally.” You say, looking at him in panic.
Jungkook furrows his brows. And then after a beat of silence, he lets out a low, “Oh.”
“Oh?” You parrot back.
“Yeah, oh,” He says drily. Jungkook rubs his eyes with his fists and then looks at you again. “I’m sorry, I feel disoriented. I just woke up.”
You wince at that, feeling bad for pushing him again.
It was just a reflex thing, okay! Especially when you felt that certain something in your ass.
When Jungkook stands up from the floor, you notice the strings of his grey shorts getting undone, and your eyes betray you as they pay a look at the noticeable bulge on his crotch.
Jesus H. Fucking Christ.
You stand up quickly, following after him, feeling your heart hammer in your chest.
Okay, boo-fucking-hoo! Men get boners in the mornings. What’s the big deal about it?
“What time is it?” Jungkook asks, brushing his hair back, and you have to physically look away and try to busy yourself by looking for your phone so you can ignore his naked chest on display and his abs and stupid big arms.
You spot your phone nearby and turn it on.
“Six thirty.”
“Shit.” Jungkook hisses.
You’ve never heard him let out so many curses before.
“What? It’s still early.” you say, in case he was referring to work.
Jungkook shakes his head. “Yeah, no. I was supposed to get ready at five am sharp. Need to go there early.”
“Oh.”
He groans, and the sound makes your stomach feel a little weird.
“I have to go shower,” Jungkook says, picking up his shirt from the coffee table. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
“Huh?” You realize what he’s talking about and is then quick to shake your head. “No, not your fault. I, uh, you fell asleep on the couch last night and I didn’t want to wake you.”
He nods, more like to himself. “How did we…?” Jungkook points between you, eyeing the couch.
“I didn’t want to use your bed without your permission, so I slept on the couch as well,” But then you decide to add, “But I didn’t sleep beside you, I was like –” you point to the edge of the couch, “there.”
“Ah,” Jungkook follows your eyes, and then nods. “Okay.”
“Yeah.” you purse your lips into a thin line. “Sorry about that. I should’ve just woken you up, huh?”
“Nah, it’s fine.” He dismisses you with a wave of his hand. “Well, is it okay if I use the shower first?”
“Of course.”
Jungkook smiles before he saunters towards the bathroom. You try not to stare at the hard lines of his retreating back, taping down to his narrow waist.
You failed to do that, obviously.
Sighing out loud when you’re sure he can’t hear you, you busy yourself in the kitchen to make some toast.
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After work, you paid a quick visit to your apartment to see how it’s going, since you’re supposed to be able to come back tomorrow.
Your building manager told you that you can pretty much move back already, but there’s no water yet, so you will still have to stay at Jungkook’s place for the last time. At least for another night.
Speaking of him, when you step out on your porch, you see him in front of his own unit, back turned to you, opening his door.
“Hey,” you call. Jungkook turns on his heel, and he smiles as he sees you.
“Hey,” He greets, his hand pausing on the door. Jungkook gives you his undivided attention as he looks at you. “Your apartment’s fine now?”
You nod happily, grinning widely. “Yeah. But I have no water yet. They’re turning it on tomorrow.” You saunter towards his direction and stop beside him. Pointing to the paper bags in his hands, you ask, “What’s that?”
Jungkook lifts them up. “Soju and Midday Miso take-out.” Then, hesitantly, he looks at you curiously. “Do you drink?”
That prompts you to laugh.
“Of course. Are you drinking tonight?”
He nods his head. “Yeah. I was gonna ask you to drink with me… but if you’re not up for it, I’ll just be in my room.”
You cock your head to the side.
“What’s the occasion?”
Jungkook chuckles. “Nothing. Just thought I could loosen up.”
You nod in understanding.
You think about asking him how work’s been, but decide against it, not wanting to pry in case he doesn’t want to talk about any of it.
As you both enter his apartment, it’s almost so domesticated how you take off your shoes and put them in the rack in the threshold. Jungkook wears his black sliders while you wear your baby blue ones. Following him into the living room, it’s almost wild to see yourself being so familiar with his place already.
“Where can we watch The X-Files?” Jungkook asks suddenly after he set the bags on the table, going for the remote and turning on the TV.
You look at him in surprise, not expecting him to ask that.
You answer nonetheless, and Jungkook clicks on the show once it shows up on the screen.
“Do you really want to start with the pilot episode?” You chuckle when he hovers over it.
Jungkook grins. “I enjoyed it last night. Maybe this could be a new favorite.”
“Woah,” you breathed, shaking your head. “Do you know how much I have to convince Jimin to watch this show?”
“Jimin doesn’t like shows. I wanted him to watch Suits but he said he couldn’t stand Harvey Specter – which is fair.”
“Oh my god, that’s also what he told me when I recommended Suits!” You say. You narrow your eyes at him, excited about the information. “So… you like Suits?”
Jungkook nods. “Sort of like a guilty pleasure? I used to watch it a lot in college. My roommate studied law and started telling me about how inaccurate it was, but it’s fun regardless,” He says with a shrug. “Sue me.”
“I know, right! People always wanna be smart about procedural dramas, but I think it’s just camp they can’t comprehend,” You shake your head, feeling a certain high bubble inside you. You lean your elbows on the coffee table. “Okay, okay, thoughts on Jessica Pearson?”
Jungkook grins. “A dream.”
You breathe a sigh of relief.
“I’m so glad you have the correct opinion.”
Jungkook laughs at that, and you begin to eat the take-out he bought, The X-Files playing on the big screen before you.
“You went home early today,” you comment as you take the shot glass he offers you.
A few minutes has passed already and you’re beginning to open the bottles of soju, Midday Miso take-out boxes all finished.
“Managed to finish early tonight. That’s probably why I wanted to drink,” Jungkook says, tipping his head back to drink from his own bottle. “Also, it’s your last day here.”
You nod. With a teasing smile, you jab, “Are you going to miss me?”
Jungkook looks at you briefly.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?” You ask incredulously, feigning hurt.
He chuckles. “I liked your little dance in the kitchen last Sunday.”
Your lips part, recalling that time when you reheated some pizza during the night. As far as you were concerned, Jungkook was in his bedroom at that time!
“You saw that?” You say, embarrassed.
Jungkook must’ve noticed, because he chuckles and begins to sound comforting when he says, “Some part of it, yeah. Megan Thee Stallion would love to perform with you, I think.”
“Oh my god, no,” You giggle, covering your face with your hands because if he caught you during that part, it means he saw you trying to throw it back. “Yeah, I think I’m packing my things right now.”
Jungkook laughs, and his eyes crinkle as he does so, overjoyed at your tactics.
“I thought you wanted to drink with me?”
You squint your eyes. “Just because I feel sorry for pushing you off the couch this morning.”
He shakes his head, still chuckling. “Yeah, that hurt. I think I have a bump on my head right now.”
You stop, eyes widening. “Seriously?”
Jungkook presses his lips together and nods. You grow concerned, ready to lean over the table to check the back of his head, but as you do so, Jungkook makes a sound of stifling his laugh and you realize he’s fucking with you.
“That’s so mean.” you say, going back to your side and pouting at him.
“Not meaner than you pushing me off the couch.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“Ugh, I’m sorry. You just surprised me, 's all!”
Jungkook laughs and nods his head. “I know, I know. I’m sorry about that. I have a habit of being able to sleep anywhere.”
You scrunch your face. “Me too.”
And then a beat of silence.
Jungkook tips his head back for another sip of his alcohol. When he looks at you again, a gentle smile is playing on his lips.
“I had a good night sleep, though. Did you?”
He looks at you with something in his eyes – something soft and gentle – his gaze making the hair on your nape stand and your cheeks burn.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
The night continues to envelope your surroundings and as time passes by, the empty bottles of soju multiply.
You’ve always had a high tolerance for alcohol – and soju, in particular, is generally not too strong for you personally. With one bottle in, you don’t feel hammered just yet. There’s a daze at the back of your head that you’re starting to feel, though. One and a half is your limit, sometimes two – you’ve had that down since college.
Jungkook seems to share the same trait, it seems like. You noticed he’s on his second one, and even though his cheeks are starting to get painted red, he still speaks with you like he’s a hundred percent conscious and not like alcohol’s hit his system already.
“It’s so hot,” you say, popping open the first two buttons of your shirt. Jungkook’s coat has long been disposed on the couch, and his ties are loosened, with the long sleeves of his dress shirt pushed to his elbow, showing his tattoos.
“Should I adjust the AC?” Jungkook asks, looking at you as you gather your hair up in a ponytail.
You manage to secure it even without a tie and answer him, “No, it’s fine.”
When you feel like you can breathe again, you look at Jungkook. As you think about what to say next, you giggle lightly.
“Let’s have some fun with these,” You point to the empty bottle of soju. Jungkook quirks his brow, which prompts you to continue. “Let’s play spin the bottle. When it points at you, you have to answer some questions. If you don’t want to, then you’ll have to drink.”
Jungkook snorts. “Truth or dare? Really?”
You roll your eyes. “No, not truth or dare. Just truth because I’m sophisticated like that. Besides, are you going to entertain me if I dare you to wear a rainbow suit for work tomorrow?”
“This is your idea of fun?” Jungkook says, teasing you. Playful with a boyish grin.
You shrug. “I mean, it’s quite fun, actually. But I know about how thirty-year-olds get. If it’s past your bedtime, then…” you glance at the door to his bedroom.
Jungkook bursts out in laughter.
“You like making it sound like I’m sixty, don’t you?”
“Are you?” You pout.
Jungkook chuckles, although relenting to your game proposition.
“Alright…”
You do a little shoulder dance which makes Jungkook shake his head. As you spin the bottle, it stops and points at him. You let out a little sound of enthusiasm.
“Okay. What’s that mean?” You ask. Jungkook looks confused as he tries to see what you’re looking at. His arm. “That flower tattoo – or if it even has a meaning.”
“Oh,” Jungkook utters, realizing. He lifts up his right arm and twists it so that the flower tattoo is within both your sight. There, you see a full view of the flower drawing tattooed in orange ink. You find yourself staring at it as Jungkook starts to speak, “It’s a tiger lily. My birth flower. It means…” You can see Jungkook hesitate for a little while, and you’re just about to take back your question when he continues to say, “It means please love me.”
“Wow.” You gasp. “That’s… so pretty.”
Jungkook caresses his forearm, staring quite lovingly at the art. “I know. My tattoo artist did a really good job.”
He takes it to himself to spin the bottle again, and this time, it points at you.
“Well… do you have a tattoo?” Jungkook asks, and it’s obvious he meant to tease.
You nod your head. His playful smile drops.
“Are you serious?”
You raise your brow at him. “Sorry. Only one question gets entertained.”
He clicks his tongue playfully but then begins to spin the bottle one more time. When it points at you again, he gives you a smirk.
“Can I see your tattoo if you’re saying you have one?”
You scrunch your face, cocking your head to the side.
“Hm. I don’t think so. It’s under my boob. So.”
Jungkook stills, and you watch as his eyes trail down from your face down to your collar – although he did it quite subtly.
“Oh.”
You grin. “Yeah, “oh”,” you chuckle. When he shakes his head, you tell him, “What?” You look at him weird, regardless of the smile on your lips. He stares right back at you, and you narrow your eyes at him. “Ohh, I see. You think I’m lying.”
“No, I’m not,” he scoffs. “I just thought…”
“You just thought what?”
“I just thought you wouldn’t have one. Or if you did, it’d be a like a small thing on the leg or something. I don’t know.” He shrugs, still smiling.
You grin. “Interesting insight.”
“Nevermind that.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, spinning the bottle again.
When the rotation stills at his direction, you clap a little and put your elbows on the coffee table.
Your next question sounds stupid in your head, but you let it out anyway.
“What’s your ideal type?” You ask.
“Oh, are we doing that?” Jungkook says, sounding intrigued. “Are you going to ask me about my first kiss next?”
You snort. “This feels so high school. But answer my question.”
“Yes, ma’am,” He playfully gives you a salute. You couldn’t help but giggle. “Okay, well, I like women who are smart and… funny,” Jungkook says, and when he looks at you, you move back a little. With a soft smile, he adds, “And pretty.”
You break the eye contact. Raising your brow, you nod your head. “Pretty women. Like Kang Heesu, right?”
Jungkook looks surprised when he hears the name.
“How do you know her?”
“How can I not? Jimin’s mother has been trying to set him up with her for months now.” You shrug.
Jungkook chuckles, as if he knows exactly what you’re talking about.
“Yeah. You’re right – not about the part that she’s my ideal type, though.”
You can’t help but let out a scoff.
“That’s such a cop-out answer, Jungkook.”
He looks at you incredulously, chuckling as he says, “What? It’s not a cop-out, it’s the truth.”
“You’re awfully close with her. I heard from my coworkers you’re both dating.” You raise a brow at him.
It’s true. Words are starting to get around the office that Jungkook and Heesu are more than just collaborators.
Of course, you know to ignore that. Not because you want to be in denial or anything – but because you just don’t think it is actually true.
But maybe poking fun at it will get you the confirmation. Or whatever. It doesn’t matter.
Jungkook laughs at your previous words, though, as if you just told him a big joke.
“God, no,” he shakes his head, as if he couldn’t believe it. “They’re really saying that?” You nod your head, your lips pressed into a thin line. “I ought to make everybody know we’re just working together. You know about the project the company has in collaboration with Kang Tech, right?”
“Yeah.”
“There you go,” Jungkook chuckles. “I’m not dating Kang Heesu.”
The words feel a bit different in your ears. Paired with the way he looked at you as he said it, he sounded as though he was… almost assuring you.
But of what?
You shake off the idea in your head.
“Okay. Next one.” you interrupt the silence to change the subject. You curse in your head when the bottle stops at you.
“Your turn. What’s your ideal type?” Jungkook asks as if his tongue is just itching to ask you that. You know he’s just excited to get back at you.
You think about it for a moment, though, and you find you don’t really know what to say.
It’s not a thought you ponder over a lot. The guys that you’ve been with were so… different from each other.
“I—I’m not sure,” you shake your head, genuine.
Jungkook points at the shot glass. “New rule. I’ll count to ten and if you don’t answer, you drink.”
You glare at him; he just gives you a grin.
“I really don’t know! I mean, my past relationships are so different from each other,” you say, pouting. “But— okay. I guess I like guys who are… confident,” You look at Jungkook and then let your mind float. “And I guess I also like somebody who’s…” You watch as he leans in closer to wait for your next words. Your feel blood rushing to your cheeks as you finish up with, “Attentive. I like good listeners. Yeah.”
“Ah,” Jungkook nods. And then, he adds, “Is Shin Taemu from the IT department a good listener, then?”
Your brows furrow. “Shin Taemu?” He nods. That earns a laugh from you. “No, we’re friends.”
“Friends?” Jungkook asks curiously.
“Well, we – uh – did date. Didn’t work out. So. We’re only friends now.”
“Date, as in, a long relationship?” His eyes are so full of genuine curiosity that you cower away from them.
You shake your head at his question. “No, no – not long relationship, it wasn’t like that. I meant date as in – dinner date. Once.” You look at the shot glass and down it because of the sudden nerves that enter you. “We’re doing this game wrong.”
Jungkoon chuckles at the way you drink another glass. He mirrors your action, though, and ask, “How so? We’re questioning each other.”
“Yeah, but it’s too many questions!” You complain, jutting your lips into a pout.
“You said you only wanted truth, so there goes your questions,” Jungkook says. You roll your eyes, which makes him laugh. “Okay, just so I can amuse you, I’ll do a dare if it points at me, and you’ll do one if it stops at you. Deal?”
When you nod, Jungkook spins the bottle. He did it quite forcefully that the bottle takes a longer time to stop. You both watch keenly as it begins to slow down. Nervous, you pray it doesn’t stop at you, and you let out a sigh of relief when it finally points to Jungkook.
Jungkook shakes his head when you let out a contained, “Yes!”
“I dare you to…” you trail off, watching as he looks at you curiously. “Let me pluck your brows.”
“What?” Jungkook asks incredulously.
“A promise is a promise.” You remind him.
“Like all of them?”
“What? Of course no!” You chuckle, seeing the genuine panic in his eyes.
“Oh.”
“You silly,” You say, laughing at him. “Not right now, though. I actually feel like I’m about to pass out. Oh my god, I have to tend to a hung-over tomorrow.” You let your face fall into your hands and stifle a groan.
“I’ll cook us some porridge or something, don’t worry.” Jungkook says. Curiously, he asks, “Why do you want to pluck my brows?”
You stare at him, and then focus your eyes onto his brows.
Pouting, you let your shoulders deflate as you sigh. “They’re so thick.”
“What?” Jungkook lets out, laughing incredulously. “I’m so confused.”
“You wouldn’t get it.”
“Okay… well, would you let me pluck your brows?”
You try to think about it.
“No,” you shake your head. You add, “Unless you’re flirting with me.”
Jungkook stops. And then raises a brow. “Unless I’m flirting with you…”
You snap your eyes to look at him. Mirroring his brow, you ask, “Are you flirting with me?”
“Maybe,” Jungkook looks at you, lips tilted into a barely-there smirk that suddenly makes your cheeks burn with heat. “Do you like it?”
It takes you a while to answer, processing his words. You don’t know if he’s joking or what. Is this just his usual teasing? It feels different this time.
But why are you denying it again to yourself, though? You may be stupid sometimes, but you know his teasing gets a little… borderline flirty. You’re scared to ask him about it outright, though – afraid to be faced with the possible truth that it’s just your head playing mind-tricks for you; that Jungkook, with his teasing, is not flirty at all and you’re just flattering yourself to think about it that way.
But right now, his question feels real.
If he is flirting with you… do you like it?
You pour a drink into the shotglass and down it quickly. You feel your vision starting to get a little hazy as you put it down the table.
Jungkook realizes what you just did, and then throw his head back to laugh.
“Now, that was a cop-out.” He says, pointing to the trick that you just did.
You give him a smirk. “No rules about not answering except down a drink.”
Jungkook chuckles. “Smart girl.”
He watches as you stand up, but when you trip over the carpet, he’s quick to follow and go over to your direction to hold your wrist, his arm going around your waist to guide you to stand upright.
“You okay?” He asks. When you look up, your faces are just a hair's breadth away.
“Hm.” You hum, blinking your eyes up at him. You find it’s because your lids are starting to get heavy.
“Be careful.” Jungkook says, but he doesn’t let go of your waist, nor your wrist.
You stand there in the middle of the living room with that position, and weirdly enough, you feel like you’re both glued on it.
You can’t move – or don’t want to. You wish you want to. But you don’t, and it’s why you let Jungkook’s fingers trail softly to your waist.
“You look real sleepy,” he comments – whispers, more like, his bated breath hitting your skin.
“I am a bit dazy.” You say, finding yourself indulging in his touch.
Somehow, Jungkook never makes a move to get away even when you’re already steady on both feet. You feel that fading away so soon though, your knees starting to feel like they’re about to buckle at the way Jungkook’s eyes bore deep into your own. You feel a sort of heightened sense within your body, his hand on your back making something in you tingle.
It’s so intimate – the position. Jungkook looms over you with his much bigger frame and with his support on your back, you can just let yourself fall back.
Can you, though? Are you sure he’s going to catch you?
“You do look a little dazy,” Jungkook comments, but his eyes have traveled down to your face, and you can see them stop at your lips.
That makes them part.
You see Jungkook’s adam’s apple bobbing at the action.
“I do feel dazy,” you say, parroting back his words. Maybe they’re coming off slurred. You don’t know. You find you don’t care.
Jungkook’s lips tilt into a gentle smile. Soft like his demeanor. Soft like his arm that somehow found a way to tighten its hold around you even though you don’t need it. But it’s Jungkook though, and as much as you deny it even to yourself – you do like his touch.
“Yeah, you told me so.” His voice becomes an octave lower. His hands start to rub your clothed waist, and the ministrations of his thumb distract you a bit.
You roam your eyes around his face – noting the scar on his cheek which story you want to know so bad. When you trail you eyes down to his lips, you see the mole under it. You don’t think you were being subtle at all – it’s quite obvious that you’re just staring.
And you know Jungkook notices.
“Jungkook,” you breathed out, calling him about nothing in particular.
His only response is a small, gentle hum.
A beat of silence, and you feel Jungkook’s face leaning closer to yours.
You don’t make a move away from him, just let your legs stay where they are, letting Jungkook slowly pull you to him. You can tell his movements are slower than usual – like he’s testing the waters, searching for something in your eyes, quietly asking if it’s okay – if what he’s about to do is okay.
It makes your heart hammer against your chest – his breathing becoming more audible in your own ears. His mouth reeks of the soju you both drank earlier, but you’ve always liked the smell of it, especially when it comes with a man as breathtaking as him.
You feel the tip of his nose touching yours, your chest pressing against his own, his hand travelling from your waist to the back of your head.
When Jungkook leans down to close the gap, you swerve your face just in time to have his lips press against your hair instead.
“I’m sleepy.” You say quietly, a nervous lilt to your voice. You duck your head a little lower, laying your face on his chest and bury it with his scent.
You can feel Jungkook freeze in his position, taken aback by the sudden turn of events. You hope he doesn’t feel the way your heart goes abnormal in your chest with such proximity – but right now, all you want to do is hide. Hide your face away from him because if he sees you, he’ll know exactly what you’re thinking.
He’ll know exactly the effect he has on you.
It takes a few seconds of silence before Jungkook comes back to you.
“Hm,” He hums, and you feel his hand letting go of your wrist to wrap around your waist, squeezing for a brief moment. Jungkook’s other hand cradles your head to his chest, swiping his hand against your hair in a repeated manner, and with the way he rests his chin on the crown of your head, you feel comfort in the whole thing. “We should sleep.”
“Yeah…” you trail off, and you can just feel your lids getting heavier at the remark.
“Yeah?”
“Hm.”
“I’ll take the couch. Do you want to shower first?” You shake your head against his chest. You feel it vibrating when he chuckles. “Okay.”
“My body feels like jelly.” You say, and you feel that to be actually true.
“Is that code for “carry me to your bed, Jungkook”?”
You’re thankful your face is buried in his chest as you smile widely.
“Do you want it to be?”
“I don’t mind.”
You nod. “Good. I think I’ll get alcohol poisoning tomorrow.”
You feel Jungkook lifting his chin off your head as he sounds scold-y when he says, “Don’t joke like that.”
You giggle against his chest.
“Carry me before I pass out.”
Jungkook snorts. “Ohh. Bossy.”
“It’s my last day here. I deserve some slack.” You grumble.
“Fine.”
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absurdthirst · 1 month ago
Text
Fruits of Passion {Marcus Acacius x F!Reader}
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 10.6k
Warnings: SEX POLLEN!!!! War, dubious consent, talk of whores, sexual repression, masturbation, oral sex (male and female receiving), rough sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms
Comments: Sent to wage war on your kingdom, Marcus seeks to minimize bloodshed as do you as your realm's queen. So you feed him fructus voluptatis, which he finds has a very strange affect on him and his army.
Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers
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|| MasterList || Marcus Acacius MasterList ||
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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.
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Marcus sighs as he strides down the marble hallway, his sandals slapping and making a noise that echoes. He has been summoned to the emperors and he is reluctant to hear about their latest whim. He nods at the guards on duty and enters the ostentatious room. "Ah General. Welcome. Welcome." Geta coos while Caracalla smirks at a woman who is redressing. Both men are handed a cup of wine by the woman before she leaves. "She is available if you wish to indulge." Caracalla smirks and Marcus rocks his jaw, "I am fully satiated, thank you Caesar." He bows his head slightly and Geta wraps his robe around him and takes the cup of wine from Caracalla's hand. "We want you to conquer more land for Rome...in our name." He says after he has a sip. Marcus frowns a little, "but I just returned." The men look at each other and laugh, "and you shall return again. With more land." Caracalla says, tilting his chin. Marcus knows there is no argument. He must leave. "I shall gather my men." He bows his head and Geta grins, "may Mars bring you home victorious." 
**** 
You stand on your balcony, staring out across the land that your ancestors fought for, that your grandfather and father fought hard for. Heavy is the head that wears the crown and you know that intimately. Their riders kick up dust and you can see the cloud coming closer to your kingdom. "They will be here before sunset. No doubt they will set up camp and rest before they attack. Let us prepare to fight." You turn to your general who nods and bows his head. Once again, you must fight Rome for your home.
The sounds of war are nothing new to Marcus, as wearisome as the sound may be. The whistling of arrows as they slice through the air or the sounds of men screaming as they lay broken on the fields to rot and fall silent. And yet - he has never encountered an army with as much skill and determination as the one he leads. Not an inch of ground has been taken, not succeeded by the ruler of the lands he wishes to conquer on orders from his emperors. Tactics that he had never imagined before used to repel his advances and he is sustaining more losses than he had calculated.
You watch from your balcony as your men fight for their independence. They are trained well, trained by their fathers and their fathers who knew these days would come. "I want to be out there with them." You tell your advisor, Cyrus, who stood alongside your late father. "You are well trained but these men would not hesitate to take you, to brutalize you and use your body as an example to all that refuse Rome. You are where you are supposed to be. Leading from afar so the men have a home to return you, a queen to return to who will offer them glory and reward." You nod, biting your lip as you prepare for losses and to console the wives of those whose husbands fell under your sword.
The siege has lasted for weeks, Marcus sighs wearily as he stares up at the fortified city. He has to commend the generals of this army, they have trained their men well. While he believes this is foolish, he must succeed for his emperor’s. “Raise the flag.” He commands. “I wish to talk to their generals.”
You are surprised when Cyrus enters your chambers and declares that the Romans have asked for a truce. You stand up and adjust your robes, "they shall have their truce but I wish to meet their general. Have an adult discussion." You command and Cyrus nods, bowing his head as he leaves your chambers.
Once Marcus learns that the generals are willing to meet to discuss terms, he takes the time to bathe, wanting to give the appearance of a leader who has nothing to worry about. Dressing in the impressive armor, shiny and oiled, he strides out of his tent to meet the party.
Cyrus is among the men meeting the Roman general and his men. They journey into no man's land and both groups stand opposite each other. "Shall we take this as your surrender?" Cyrus calls out and his men laugh while the Roman's clench their jaws, frustrated by the length of this conquest. They should've been returning home to their warm beds by now. "We are not surrendering." Marcus replies, his voice strong as he steps forward from the lineup. "I want to meet your infamous queen. The one whose name echoes across the Empire." He declares and Cyrus steps forward, "she wants to meet you. Only you." He adds after a pause.
Marcus glances at the general and the men flanked at his sides. He can feel his own men bristle at the suggestion but he holds up his hand. “Very well.” He decides, reaching for the belt that holds his sword. “I will come meet your queen unarmed.” He tells them, “but if I am taken captive or killed, my men will destroy this city by fire.” He warns.
You watch as the food is laid out, meats and cheeses alongside fruits. Copious amounts of wine...it's a feast for your enemy. You know the General will be suspicious of your generosity but that is how your father taught you politics. "He is here, my Queen." Your guard announces and you nod, "send him in." You order and the doors open to reveal the Roman General escorted by Cyrus. You stand straighter and prepare to face the man representing the enemy. "Welcome, General." You greet him coolly, holding your hand out to him.
Surprised by the apparent feast, he takes your hand and bows over it slightly. Unsure of what to call you in these circumstances since he would not call you his queen. “I have heard tales of your courage and beauty, but I find them to be under-exaggerated.” He says, looking up and wondering how you have not already been conquered with a face as beautiful as yours.
You tell him your name, "I do not care for titles" you say as you offer him a smile, lowering your hand from his and you nod to Cyrus, letting him know you will be fine. "And I have heard many stories of the great General Acacius of Rome. You have conquered many lands. but mine will not be one of them. Come, I am certain you are hungry after your battles with my men. I fear my mother would turn in her grave if I was not a good host." You gesture to the table as Cyrus closes the doors, leaving you alone with Marcus.
Marcus appreciates your plain speaking after dealing with the subterfuge and double entendres of Roman society. Especially in the emperors’ palace. “Marcus.” He tells you, giving you his first name. “Unfortunately, we will take this land because my emperors wish to claim it for their glory.” He sighs. “Perhaps we can come to an agreement so that not too many of your people need to die.”
You sit down and stare at him from across the table. "I would like to counteroffer. You leave now and Rome will not lose more of her soldiers. No doubt your Emperors wish to expand their lands across the sea, I do not understand what my lands have to offer other than territory." You don't mention the natural resources your lands have, it's a well kept secret among your people and why you are so defensive. "I think the easiest solution is you return to your emperors, inform them that my lands are not for the taking, but bring good news that the losses were fewer than anticipated so you have more men for your next conquest." You smile, picking up the pitcher of wine to pour him a cup before you pour your own, setting the pitcher down then you pick up your cup to take a sip.
Marcus watches as you take a sip, wary of a poison that you would offer him. Furrowing his brow when you swallow and smirk at him. “Unfortunately, my emperors would not accept that.” He admits. “They would just send another army, three times the size of the one with me.” He takes his own sip of wine and has to admit that it’s delicious. He sets the cup down and waits to see if it will have any ill effects on him, settling back in the comfortable chair. “You could always surrender now, I would be willing to negotiate fair terms for your people.” He pauses. “And you, as Queen.”
You tilt your head, watching him as you take another sip of wine. “I have told my men to offer food to your troops. I know you have traveled far from Rome and I am certain your supplies are dwindling. You did not anticipate my people to hold out so long. I’m sorry to disappoint, but we will not surrender. I will not surrender.” You declare, “but let us not discuss battles when I am certain you are hungry. Please, eat.” You gesture to the table.
He doesn't know what kind of game you are playing but he watches as you start to pick and choose items randomly from the table to eat. Obviously proving that the food is safe. "Why would you feed my men?" He demands. "It will just allow us to linger here longer. Fight harder."
“Our culture.” You explain, “it would be remiss to not feed a guest, no matter how unwelcome they may be. My ancestors fed their enemies. It is tradition.” You explain, “and I will follow tradition.” You reach for some bread, wanting to show him that you aren’t poisoning him. “This is our local fruit. A delicacy here.” You declare as you pick a piece up and pop it in your mouths humming in content.
He is curious about the fruit, never seeing such a thing before. It looks like it is juicy and sweet, making him hesitate for only a moment before he reaches for the fruit. "Local, you say?" He asks, inspecting it closely and admiring the vivid pink coloring of the fruit's skin before he pops it in his mouth. The emperors would want to try any local resources that they do not have in Rome.
You watch him chew on the fruit, picking up your cup of wine. “Tell me, General, how is your camp? Are you comfortable? Are you served well? Serviced by whores?” You ask nonchalantly, tilting your head and licking your lips as you reach for another piece of fruit.
He nearly chokes on his tongue by the way you ask about his sex life. Managing to swallow the sweet fruit, he reaches for the wine again to wash it down so he doesn't cough. "No." He admits, with a shake of his head. "I do not use the women that frequent the camps." He never has since he had gained rank and privilege.
You hum, letting your eyes trail along his form, covered by intricate armor that has you admiring his strong form. “I imagine they are very upset by that slight. Do you partake in your fellow soldier?” You ask, curious about the General and his tendencies.
His brow arches up at your boldness and he takes another sip of the wine and sets it down before plucking another piece of the fruit from the tray. "No." He chuckles. "I satisfy my own needs when they become urgent." He tilts his head. "Are you always so concerned with the sexual appetites of your enemy?"
You chuckle, leaning forward in your chair, “to know a man’s sexual appetite is to know how he fights on a battlefield. It is easy to ascertain your weakness and you’ve just told me yours, General.” You smirk, licking your lips as you pluck a grape from the tray and place it in your mouth.
He snorts, unsure of what kind of thought process that is, and he shrugs. "So what did I just tell you?" He asks curiously, wondering what you could possibly get from not fucking camp whores.
“That you’re pent up. You haven’t fucked a woman since you have been on the road for many months. You’ve been camped outside my lands for weeks. You must be aching. Yearning for a release, to bury your cock in a woman and find some mind numbing bliss in her. You’re mentally foggy. Frustration can do that. A man with empty balls has a clear mind. He’s not preoccupied with the need to relax, he’s not distracted. That’s your weakness and distracted soldiers make mistakes. You’ll make a mistake.” You finish and cross your arms together to push your breasts up.
He knows the blatant attempt to make him look at your breasts and he smirks as he does just that. He has control, even if his cock twitches under his armor at the soft swell of flesh on display. “Who says my balls are full?” He decides if you speak as crudely as a soldier, he should not temper his own words for the sake of propriety. “My hand can provide a release when needed and I do not have to deal with a whore thinking that because a general ruts between her thighs that she runs the camp.”
You chuckle, leaning back in your seat, and you reach for your cup of wine once more. He’s smart and handsome. If he weren’t the enemy, you’d definitely have him between your thighs for the foreseeable. “You may think the men run the camp but those women work harder, fight harder, than any soldier. They fight to survive in a world that has their death warrants signed. So your hand suffices and you come here now, ready to accept my surrender and then what? You’ll return to your uxor?” You raise your eyebrows, “are you loyal to your wife and that is why you are satisfied with your hand?”
You are impressive and smart. Beautiful and brave. It’s a fascinating combination and if he did not have to conquer your lands, he would be interested in seducing you. “I am not married.” He reveals. “No uxor waiting at home, no lover.” He shrugs. “I will go home and see what next campaigns the emperors would send me on.” It's almost a dreary existence, but he has no choice right now.
You scoff, “they have everything they could ever wish for. Riches beyond imagination. Gold, wine, medicines. Yet it’s never enough. They are greedy and they will be the downfall of the Empire.” You declare with a scoff, “you are not like most Romans. Many would’ve come in here with a concealed weapon to try and kill me. I've had others try. All have failed.” You warn the General and you pick up another piece of fruit, “have another piece. It’s our greatest asset.” You order as you bite into the fruit.
Marcus helps himself to the tasty fruit, reminding him of a sweet cherry, but it’s slightly tart. Delicious and juicy, it makes his mouth water when he eats another. “What is this fruit called?” He asks. “I will have to bring a wagon full back to my emperors.”
You smirk, plucking another piece for yourself, "it's called fructus voluptatis and I am certain it would be wasted on your emperors. They would not appreciate its lingering sweetness." You shake your head, having heard rumors about the indulgent Roman Emperors. "Tell me, Marcus, why do you fight for them?"
Marcus knows that it would be foolish to admit the truth to you, it could get back to emperors, but he is tired of fighting useless causes. Tired of sending men to die. “Because I serve Rome and her people.” He sighs, picking up another piece of the fruit and eating it eagerly. “They are the will of Rome, so I serve them.” He does not say that if he refuses he would be killed, but he’s certain you know that. “If I am leading the army, perhaps I can send a few more sons and husbands back to their families.”
You tilt your head and narrow your eyes slightly, “you are not what I expected, General.” You declare and he chuckles, wiping his lower lip with his thumb, “and what did you expect?” You hum, trailing your fingers along the tabletop, “a beastly, pompous, prick who would do anything to destroy my people and take our land. You are…definitely not beastly. You are here with me when most men would’ve picked up that knife and held it to my neck already.”
Marcus watches your fingers, the image of them trailing over his chest and wrapping around his cock springing to life in his mind and making him shudder. His half hard cock twitching and he coughs slightly and shifts in his seat. “I have no wish to harm you or any of your people.” He admits. “I am a violent man by trade, but not by nature.”
You hum, trailing your finger along the rim of your cup, your eyes looking at him from under your lashes, “I can tell that you are not blood thirsty. You do not take pleasure in your kill so I ask once again what’s your pleasure? Your hand? Do you not want more?”
Marcus feels your question humming through his veins, lighting up desires and needs that he has spent a long time burying under duty and a strict sense of propriety. The emperors may indulge themselves in whatever and whomever they please, but Marcus wishes to treat the people under his direction with respect. He snorts. “Of course I want more.” He grunts, cock twitching again and thickening to the point where it’s tenting the tunic in his lap. Head already weeping with need like he’s been drawing out his pleasure like he sometimes does. It seems to take the edge off for longer. “But I don’t want a woman to crawl into my bed because she feels she has to, or to gain some favor by being my whore.” He admits. “I would have found a woman to enjoy my time with while I was in Rome, but the emperors were too eager to claim your land for their own.” His tongue is surprisingly loose and he frowns as he reaches for another little fruit. They are addictive.
“You’re a handsome man, General. I imagine most women would only be too eager to fall into your bed, give you pleasure like sucking your cock, letting you use their bodies for your frustrations. Without payment of coin. Simply because they want to.” You smile, licking your lips as he chews on the fruit
He shifts again as he swallows, wondering if you think that seducing him will send him on his way without your lands. Shivering again and shaking his head slightly as he reaches for his wine to wash away the way his mouth suddenly waters slightly. He had watched you lick your lips and wants to taste the fruit from them. "I have had my share of lovers." He admits, his voice raspy. "I believe they were all satisfied."
You notice his eyes darken and he fidgets in his seat. You smirk and watch him struggle, the effects of the fruit hitting him. “I’m certain they were. You seem like a capable lover. Nothing worse than a selfish leader. It doesn’t bode well to success. You, General, would be a force to be reckoned with in bed…as well as the battlefield.”
He feels his face flush at your compliment, something that never happens to him. He doesn't fluster easily, but his entire body seems to warm through. "Then you know you should surrender to me." He grunts, imagining you submitting to him in bed rather than surrendering your lands. "I will treat you fairly."
You scoff, shaking your head, “I will never surrender. I would sooner die alongside my people than allow Rome to take my land.” You say as you trail your fingers along your collarbone. “Are you feeling okay, General? You look flushed.” You comment, pouting slightly.
Marcus clears his throat, swallowing again at the excess saliva filling his mouth. "Fine." He rasps out, nodding as if that would make it believable and he downs the rest of his wine quickly before setting the cup down. His eyes slide along your skin with your fingers, watching the innocent move with a hunger to trace that same path with his lips.
You giggle, noticing how affected he is, and you reach for the clip that keeps your robes together. You smirk, seeing his eyes widen as your breasts are exposed to his eyes. “It’s so hot in here. Are you heated, General?” You ask, picking up your fan to try and cool yourself down. “Forgive me for my nudity, I am a little dizzy.”
Marcus chokes out your name, ripping his eyes from your tits even though he wants to touch them. His hands curl into fists so that he doesn’t reach for you. “Is that- do your people just strip down when the heat overcomes you?” He asks tightly, his entire body on fire now and he is starting to sweat.
You continue to fan yourself, leaning back in your seat, “when we are overwhelmed. Of course.” You shrug like it’s nothing and your tits jiggle with the move. “It’s best to have some cool air on your body instead of sitting in silence and suffering.” You coo, “you look overheated.”
He is. He’s so fucking hot right now, so fucking hard. He wants to strip down so he can sink into your cunt and fuck you until you are screaming his name for your entire realm to hear. “Thirsty.” He reaches for the pitcher of wine to pour himself so more, trying to keep his eyes off your breasts.
You smirk, leaning closer and you set your fan down before you cross your arms to rest them on the table. “Drink as much as you want, General. We have plenty.” You see how his chest heaves, the sweat on his brow, “you need more, don’t you?” You guess, knowing how the fruit can take effect.
“Yes.” He croaks out, pouring a large goblet full of wine and starting to down it like a man dying of thirst. “More.” He gasps when he drains the cup and still his body is on fire. His cock is throbbing and he shudders as he shifts in his seat as the fabric of his tunic brushes over the sensitive skin.
You watch how he shudders, “you can touch yourself. It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone. It’s our secret.” You wink and cup your breast, “I’m overheated too.” You murmur, moaning softly as you pinch your nipple.
“What the fuck is happening to me?” He groans quietly, swallowing as you palm your tit and moan yourself. “What did you poison me with?” He accuses, glaring at you and clenching his hand into a fist.
You giggle, “it’s not poison. It’s the fruit. It has…lusty effects. You are hard, no?” You ask and he nods, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You need release. You will not be comfortable until you touch yourself, General.” You slide your hand up until you’re palming both tits. “You need to cum. That’s the only way to stop this feeling.”
“Fuck.” He closes his eyes and hisses softly as he tries to control himself. “You- you planned this?” He asks breathlessly. “You ate the fruit as well.”
“I did, but I have a tolerance to it. We eat this regularly.” You are a little heated but not overwhelmed like he is. “You need to touch yourself. You will not feel better until you do. You’ve eaten a lot. You will die if you do not touch yourself. Your heart will only take so much.” You reveal with a smirk and chuckle when his eyes widen.
This has to be some kind of trick. To make him embarrass himself. He shakes his head. “If I die, your kingdom will be razed to the ground.” He reminds you. “You would not put your people in danger.”
You smirk as you stand, letting your robes fully drop from your body, and you step out of the pile gathered at your feet, “your army was given a generous sample of fruit. I’m certain they will be fucking each other senseless by now while my men remove their weapons from under their noses.” You giggle, swaying your hips as you make your way over to the bed behind the silks, eager to touch yourself after having the fruit. You’re still affected somewhat by its power.
“Gods be damned.” You have effectively crippled his army. He knows that if they are half as afflicted by this fruit as he is, they will be balls deep in each other and every available whore in the camp. A veritable orgy. Marcus can barely see you behind the silk and he grips the edge of the chair before he stands, giving into his need to see what you are doing. To see your body again.
You moan as you lay down on the bed, stretching out, and your hands slide along your body, unashamed of your form, and you look up when you see Marcus slide past your silks. "Like what you see, General?" You tease, squeezing your breast.
His breath is ragged, panted out as he struggles for control. “How- how long will this last?” He groans, cock twitching and bobbing heavily under his tunic. He still doesn’t touch himself, but he watches you.
"Depends. If you refuse to pleasure yourself, it will be a slow death. If you find pleasure, it will leave your system in hours." You hum, pinching your nipple and you are soaking wet as you trail your eyes down to the tent in his tunic.
Marcus grapples with the issue at hand. He could not believe you, but why would you lie? You are lying naked on a bed, touching yourself. He groans as you press your thighs together and then spread them to let him see your curls wet with arousal. “Fuck.” He swallows harshly as reaches for the ties of his armor.
You watch him as he starts to strip his armor. He's so broad and it's not just the armor that fills him out. He's strong and although his stomach is softer than younger soldiers, he has your folds dripping wet as you watch him expose his body inch by inch. "Touch you. I want to watch you touch yourself." You demand, adding a moan when your fingers slide through your folds.
He raises his chin defiantly, but he knows that he needs to touch himself. His cock is dripping onto the floor and he hisses as he watches you revel in the pleasure of your own touch. Spitting into his hand and reaching down to wrap his hand around his cock with a relieved groan at just that simple touch.
You watch him with lust filled eyes. You never intended to touch yourself, you wanted to watch him fall apart before you, but he has intrigued you. You slide your fingers up to rub your clit, "you are magnificent, General."
He just holds his cock in his hand, squeezing it to relieve the pressure. “You are perfect.” He counters. “Wars would be waged over your beauty, your hand being battled for to the death.”
You hum, pleased by his reaction, and you pull your hand away from your cunt, shifting onto your knees to get a little closer to him. "would you fight for me, General?" You ask, raising your eyebrows.
“Yes.” He breathes the admission out without a second’s thought. Groaning as his cock twitching in his and he rocks his hips forward just a fraction of an inch, jerking himself into his grip. He wants to bury his tongue in your cunt while he strokes his cock to see if you taste like the fruit you has tricked him into eating.
Pleased with his answer, you grin as you slide your hand down your body until you’re rubbing your clit again. You moan and watch him as he fists his cock, “stroke yourself. I want to watch you take your pleasure.”
It's like he cannot deny you. Marcus throws his head back and hisses quietly as his hand starts to move. Slowly and achingly sliding up and down the length of his cock as he stands with his feet braced apart. Right now your soldiers could come in and strike him down, but he doesn't care. The pleasure from the slow, tight stroke is too much.
​​You watch him, smirking in satisfaction at the way his jaw drops. He looks so blissed out and you haven’t even gotten started. “That’s it, General. Touch yourself. You look so good like this.” You hum, continuing to rub your clit as you kneel on the bed. “Does it feel good?” You coo, shuffling a little closer.
“So good.” His nostrils flare as he pants out breath, losing control over himself as the need consumes him. His eyes are fixed on your bare body and his hips lurch forward into his grip, as if propelled closer to you, but he barely manages to stop from stepping forward. He will not have you accuse him of attacking you. “This- it hurts.” He groans, a spurt of liquid dribbling from the tip of his cock. “And feels so good.”
“I know. I know.” You nod, pouting slightly in sympathy. “It will get better. You need to spill your seed. Can I - I want to touch you.” You declare, shifting a little closer, “can I touch you, General?” You ask, continuing to rub your clit.
Marcus gnashes his teeth together, but it can’t repress the whine that comes out of the back of his throat. He should say no, he would say no if it were for the burning need that is clawing under his skin, humming through his entire body. “I- I am your- your guest.” He pants out. “You can do anything you want.”
You grin, loving his answer, and you shuffle closer, kneeling on the bed after pulling your fingers away from your clit. “You’re so gorgeous.” You murmur. You want him, want to taste him. You lean forward to take the head of his cock into your mouth when he squeezes his cock.
He chokes out your name, unable to believe that a queen has his cock in her mouth. That you are touching him in such a way. His stomach heaves and he’s embarrassed by the next spurt of pre-cum that leaks out, flooding your mouth, although he’s not even close to orgasming yet.
You moan around him, shifting your weight onto one hand to cover his hand with yours, squeezing him at the base as you take him a little deeper into your mouth. The salty taste of pre-cum has you humming around him and you watch his neck clench as he twitches in your grip.
He should pull his hips back. He should redress and go warn his men about eating the fruit, although he knows they most likely already have. The soldiers are always eager for any fresh fruits they can get their hands on, so it would have been readily accepted. He moans and lets go of his cock, reaching for your cheek and his hand is gentle as he caresses it.
You moan around his cock, taking him even deeper, and you love the way his broad chest heaves. Your other hand caresses a scar on his thigh and you watch him as you hollow your cheeks, sucking on his thick length.
It’s been a long time since he’s received this kind of pleasure. He hisses when your tongue presses against the sensitive head. His fingers curling around your jaw and applying the slightest pressure to it to lift your eyes up to him.
You moan around him, loving the dark look on his face as he watches you suck on his cock. Your hand trails along your stomach and down to your pussy, cupping yourself before you start to rub your clit while you bob your head.
Marcus grips the back of your head, growling incoherently. Enjoying the way you touch yourself without apology. If you weren’t sucking his cock, he’s sure this room would be filled with your moan. “Gods.” He hisses, his body sweating and throbbing with need.
You hum around his cock, loving how he twitches in your mouth. You’re dripping wet as you slide your fingers through your folds, and you close your eyes when he rocks his hips, pushing his cock a little deeper.
His body is so tightly wound, so primed, that the next time your throat closes around his shaft, Marcus is cumming. With a shout of pure relief, he starts to spill down your throat in hot ropes.
You swallow him down, humming around his length, and it’s too much that his cum starts to slide down your chin. When he finally stops twitching, you pull off of him with a gasp, trying to catch your breath and you know you look messy with his cum dripping off your chin.
You look gorgeous covered in his seed. Thoroughly debauched and still his hard cock aches for more. His fingers slide through his cum to grip your chin. “Let me fuck you.” He demands roughly. If you say no, he will have to stroke his cock again, the fever still spiking his blood.
You grin, shifting to lay down on the bed. You slide your hand along your chin to gather his cum so you can lick it from your palm. “Come and fuck me, General. Take me how you want.” You demand, spreading your legs to show him how wet you are.
Your cunt is dripping, glistening in the light of the day and the torches on the wall. Even though his cock is twitching to be buried deep, he lunges forward on the bed, kneeling between your thighs and he dives into your folds face first, his fist around his cock and his moans being breathed into your sex.
You cry out, moaning as his tongue slides through your folds. You didn’t expect him to do that and his mouth is wet and hot as he laps at you. “Fuck, General, you are eager.” You gasp, tangling your fingers in his damp hair.
He is eager. It’s been so long since the taste of a woman has been on his tongue that he is ravenous. He doesn’t pull away to answer, simply groaning into your folds as he doubles down on his efforts to make you cry out again.
You moan breathlessly, arching your back slightly as you lift your leg onto his broad, strong shoulder. You’ve had many lovers and no one has been this ravenous when lapping at your cunt. “General. I need - oh gods.” You moan when he sucks on your clit.
He’s not been so long without a woman that he doesn’t remember what drives them crazy. The little nub of flesh that puffs out from between your lips is so sensitive to his attention. He groans when your fingers tug at his hair and makes his scalp burn. His hand around his cock starts to pump his length as he sucks.
You hear him pumping his cock as he sucks on your bundle of nerves, making you throw your head back and fall apart. Your moan turns into a cry as he pushes you over the edge and your thighs tighten around his head.
You are falling apart, squeezing his head between your thighs and soaking his face with your release. Making Marcus groan as he moves down to lap it up eagerly, wanting to see if you taste as sweet as the fruit you tricked him with.
He works you through it and you whimper, tugging on his hair as he laps at you until it’s too much. The fruit has affected you too and you’re desperate for him but you won’t let that show. You drag his face away from your cunt and he groans, shifting onto his knees, your slick shining on his face. He’s pumping his cock as he shuffles closer and you shake your head, reaching down to cup your cunt. “I want you to beg for it.” You smirk, wanting to see him struggle.
He clenches his jaw, his lips firmly pressed together in annoyance that you would deny him now. You had caused him to be in this state by feeding him that fruit and he hates how he wants to beg. It’s on the tip of his tongue but he can’t do it.
You chuckle, keeping your hand in its place. “I can take care of myself, General. I have many times after eating the fruit. Can you? Your jaw is clenched. Your brow is shiny with sweat. Your cock looks like it’s throbbing, dripping with need. You can touch me. Fuck me. Take what you want. All you need to do is beg.” You coo, shifting your leg to slide your foot along his thigh.
He bites his lip, nearly breaking the skin. “Let me fuck you.” He groans, continuing to stroke his cock. “You want me. You want my cock. I see it in your eyes.”
You giggle, sliding your foot across to press against his cock. He groans and twitches under your touch and you press harder. “Not enough to give in so easily. Beg more. I want to hear you whine.” You demand, wanting to hear him.
Marcus hisses in anger but his body betrays him. Hips rocking up to grind against your foot. “You wish to humiliate me?” He growls. “Show your power over me?” He knows that’s what you want, but he is rapidly forgetting why he cares. “Fuck me then.” He compromises. “Ride my cock for your pleasure.” He groans. “Use me.”
Smirking, you slide your foot from his body and shift to kneel. “Lay down.” You order and he growls but follows your demand, laying down beside you. You shift to straddle him, batting his hand away to grip his cock. “You’re impressive, General.” You hum as you lift up and position him at your entrance, keeping your eyes on him as you start to sink down onto his length.
Your cunt is hot and tight around him. Making him groan and his hands bruise your hips with their hard grip. He grits his teeth, the urge to flip you over and hammer into your soft body barely resistible. “Gods.” He hisses out.
​​You pant as he stretches you out. It’s been a long time since you’ve taken a man this thick. “Move.” He demands through gritted teeth, and you chuckle, reaching for the hands on your hips. He reluctantly lets you release his grip and you lift his arms over his head, pushing his wrists into the bed as you start to rock on top of him.
He’s vulnerable like this, you can stick a knife in his ribs before he could react. Right now, he’s not worried about that, occupied by the way your cunt squeezes around his cock as you roll your hips. A queen is fucking him, using him for your pleasure, and he’s groaning while watching your tits bounce in his face so he lunges up to wrap his lips around a nipple.
You moan when he sucks on your nipple, your walls clenching around him, and you close your eyes. He could easily overpower you, he’s strong, but you have him entranced by your cunt. “Oh gods, General. You - you fill me so well.” You compliment him breathlessly as you rock down on his cock.
He hums in agreement, biting down on your nipple and sucking again when you moan in pleasure. You are wanton and sensual, swiveling your hips and grinding down on him as you chase your pleasure. “Touch yourself.” He grunts against your breast. “Cum on my cock.”
You pant, letting go of his wrists and you balance yourself on your palm as you reach down with your free hand to rub your clit. His deep voice has you shaking above him as you use his body for your pleasure. “Fuck. I- I am going to -" You cut yourself off as you fall apart on his cock, clenching down around him.
Marcus groans, his body tensing and he uses the moment to flip you into your back. Growling your name as he plants his knees as starts to fuck you. Needing to feel it again and again, even as your cunt spasms around him. “Fuck.” He hisses. “Cum again.”
Your cry echoes as he fucks you hard. He looks dangerous above you, his eyes black as he pushes into you like a man possessed. Your hands scramble to cling to him, knowing that all you can do is hold on.
You cling to him rather than pushing him away, spurring him on. His hips snapping forward sharply and making your entire body jolt as he drives into you. Groaning in pleasure at the way you yield to him, submitting to his need. He’s close, the fever in his system driving him to thrust harder and harder.
“You can fill me up. I have a tea to make sure I don’t - not with child.” You promise, wrapping your legs around him to push your heels into his ass. “Fuck. You feel so good.” You moan, your whole body bouncing with his thrusts.
Your words tip him over the edge, body going taunt and the vein on the side of his neck bulges as he buries his cock deep. Throbbing as he paints your walls with thick ropes if his sticky seed while he moans your name.
You watch him as he falls apart, filling you up, and you whimper, “you are a force to be reckoned with, General.” You love how hot his seed is as it paints your walls and his cock pulses inside you.
His eyes, closed as he rides out his high, open and focus on you as soon as the last spurt of his seed has been spent. He’s still achingly hard and his need for you burns under his skin. “Not done.” He growls, starting to move again as he lunges towards your lips for a kiss.
Moaning into the kiss, you cup his stubbled cheek and eagerly tangle your tongue with his as he takes control. You rock your hips up, needing more and he gives it to you. Rocking into you a little faster and your pussy squelches around his length as he pushes his seed out.
“You have to need to cum again.” He grunts, pulling away to kiss along your jaw. “Want to hear you cry out again.” He huffs out a reluctant chuckle. “Brave and bold, afflicting yourself with the same need.”
You nod, “yes. Yes. I need it. Give it to me.” You demand, clenching around him and he almost bends you in half to get deeper, achieving his aim as he hits something incredible inside of you. “Fuck. Oh yes. Fuck. Do that again.” You cry out your demand.
Grunting and smirking, Marcus repeats the action again and again, loving how you moan and squeal for him. He feels that you are close to falling apart again, body drawing up and starting to tighten. “Cum.” He orders.
You understand now how so many men would follow him into battle, his voice and his authority is intoxicating. You moan, unable to deny him as you clamp down on his cock, soaking him as you fall apart beneath him.
Marcus growls, loving how you soak his cock as he rocks into you. Fucking you through the orgasm that is making you shake underneath him. “Gods.” He hisses, continuing to hammer into your squelching cunt.
“Fu-uuu-ck.” You moan breaks and continues with each thrust to push you through your pleasure and your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath. “Oh my - fill me up, General. Please. Want - I want it.” You demand, needing to see him fall apart above you again.
His teeth snap together harshly, lips curled up as he ruts into you. “Fuck!” He hisses, knowing that he’s close but he continues to fuck you with abandon. His hands are hard on your body as he finally stiffens with a shout that is equal to a war cry, throbbing and spilling inside you again.
You know he’s going to leave bruises but you love it. You moan, caressing his chest as he looms over you, “that’s it. That’s it.” You coo, watching him as he ruts through his ecstasy.
Marcus is panting as he finally stops moving, collapsing on top of you and pinning you to the bed as he tries to catch his breath. “Fuck, fuck.” He breathes out, finally feeling like he can breathe without wanting to fuck.
You hum, smiling against his chest, and you hear his heart pounding. You lower your legs from his hips, feeling your pulse race as you try to catch your breath. “It was a pleasure fighting against you, General Acacius.”
He snorts, shaking his head when he finally lifts his head and looks down at you. Knowing that you have bested him and he is honor bound to admit defeat. “My army will withdraw in two days time.” He tells you. “They will need a day to recover from their…activities.”
You chuckle, caressing his cheek and you lean in to kiss his lips softly. “As I said, it’s been a pleasure, General.” You murmur and kiss his chin. He sighs and pulls out of you, letting you spread out on the silk sheets and smile in bliss. The burning sensation in your belly satiated and your people protected. You’ve done what you set out to do.
**** 
True to his word, the Roman army starts to pull back, packing wagons and animals with supplies and the army, still a little sore from the orgy from days before, begins the long march back to Rome. Marcus states at the walled city, wondering where you might be right now, frowning slightly. Retreat and defeat are foreign concepts, but he was a man of honor. He would take his punishment from the emperors when he returned to the capital.
**** 
You sigh as you set your scroll down, looking out at the expanse of your lands. Prosperous and free since you sent the Roman army packing. Your people are thriving, they love their Queen and you have protected them from invasion. You’re pulled out of your thoughts when your advisor enters, head bowed. “There is a General here to see you.” You frown, “where is he? Take me to him.” You demand and your advisor escorts you to where he is waiting. You know who it is. You often wondered if he’d ever return and you expect he has his army waiting instructions. You enter the room with your head high, “General Acacius. What an unexpected surprise.” You hold your hand out towards him, your stomach twisting with arousal at the broad shouldered soldier standing before you.
It has been four years since he left these lands. Four years of jabs and comments from the emperors. Feigned disappointment and foul treatment of him by the spoiled brats until the people of Rome had turned on them. Disposing them and installing new leadership. Leaving Marcus with a decision to make. “My lady, your highness.” This time he uses your honorific and bows his head. “However, I lied to your advisor.” He admits. “I am no longer General Acacius of Rome.”
You frown, “then who am I speaking with?” You ask, shaking your head when your guards stiffen. “I am simply Marcus Acacius.” You nod in understanding, certain that he’s lost everything because of your deception. “I’m sorry.” You sigh, “I don’t doubt that you’ve had a difficult time from your Emperors.”
“The emperors have been overthrown.” He informs you. “The current emperor has no interest in your lands, your highness. Peace has been offered and I have brought you a promise of that.” He reaches into his tunic and slowly pulls out the scroll when the guards reach for their weapons.
You hold your hand up to get them to stand down before you take the scroll. You unravel it and scan the words, your eyes widening, “they have assured me that our lands are no longer wanted. We will be left alone.” You are shocked and pleased, looking at Marcus, his brown eyes soft as he watches you. You hand the scroll to your advisor just as footsteps echo down the hall. “Mama! Mama!” You hear your son as he runs towards you, arms open as his nanny runs behind him, trying to keep up with him. “Hello my love.” You coo, picking him up, and you cuddle him close.
Marcus watches as a child, a boy of no more than three, hugs you and presses into your body and kisses your cheek. “I missed you, mama.” He pouts, frowning fiercely at you and it makes Marcus’s heart pound in his chest. He knows, without a doubt, this is his child. He had planted his seed in your womb when you had drugged him.
You can tell he knows the truth and you hold your son close. “I really did take a tea. It was never my intention to become with child. With your child.” You promise him, “and I am sorry for any deception. I had to protect my people. You can go. No one will harm you.” You promise, “and I thank you for the news you have brought.”
Marcus might have attacked your realm on orders from his emperors, but he had no ill will towards you or your people. Watching his son look at him curiously and finding that the boy has his eyes and the edges of his ears curl like Marcus’s does makes his choice easy. “I have nothing in Rome to return to.” He tells you. “No wife, no family, no army.” He might add that to make you feel a little guilty. “I had also come to provide you with another guarantee that Rome would never attack you.” He tells you. “I wish to serve you. Help guard your people.” His eyes are on his son but they shift to you. “You have been my only defeat in war - in life.”
Your eyes widen in surprise. You never imagined that he’d return alone. Perhaps he’d return with an army to defeat the woman who bested him but he wants to serve you instead. “I- wow. This is - quite a shock. But you are welcome here.” You promise, “you shall have a room in the palace. You will be honored as the father to the next king. You have my word that no one will treat you poorly. I wish to have you here.” You add, knowing that you’ve thought about him every day since the day he left with his army in tow.
Marcus never expected you to agree, to want him close. He nods. “I will serve you faithfully.” He vows, wanting to reach out and touch you. You have been on his mind since he had left, remembering your wit, and your body with a desire to see you again. The senate had known of his unhappiness in Rome and had released him from his commitments to her, knowing he would come back. He had left a piece of himself here, more true than he had realized.
You offer him a smile, “Marcus, this is your father.” You introduce your son for the first time. “He went away but he’s back now.” You explain simply, “and he wants to meet you.” You shift the little boy in your arms whose eyes widen, “papa?” He asks and turns to look at Marcus. He wiggles in your grip and holds his arms out towards his father.
Marcus’s eyes widen, surprised that you had named your son after him. He has not held many children in his life, but he is immediately reaching to take the boy. Amazed at how trusting he is as little arms wind around his neck. “Marcus.” He murmurs, looking the boy over in wonder and holding him close. “That is my name as well.” He tells him. “How old are you, son?”
Your son ducks his head, suddenly shy, until he looks at you and you nod, smiling at him. “Thwee.” He answers, still speaking with a slight lisp as he tries to get his pronunciation of words. “Marcus is your name too?” He asks and Marcus nods, “it is.” You rub your son’s back, “this is your papa.” You remind him and Marcus looks at the older man, “papa.” He grins and cuddles him.
Marcus swallows harshly, choking up slightly at the easy acceptance from his son. “Son.” He hums softly, rubbing the little boy’s back as he glances back at you. “Do you like to play with wooden swords?” He asks, knowing that he had watched young children play like that. “I do.” He pulls back and gives a wide grin that Marcus can’t help but copy. “We will have to play together. I play with wooden swords too.”
Your smile widens when your son nods, “yes, papa.” You rub his back for another moment before you squeeze Marcus’s shoulder. “I’m sure you are tired after your travels. Please, take a room and we will bring you food and you can go to the baths to clean up.” You tell Marcus, who nods, “thank you, your highness.” You tut and shake your head, telling him to call you by your name. Your servants rush around after your words to prepare everything for Marcus.
Soon, Marcus is groaning as he relaxes in a hot bath of fresh water, clean and feeling refreshed. Amazed that he hasn’t been turned away and even more amazed that he has a son. The wine next to the bath has been half drunk, but he hadn’t eaten any of the food that was sitting on the tray. He would rather talk to you first.
You look up when there’s a knock at your door, calling out for them to enter, and you sigh when you see Marcus walk into your quarters. “General.” You tease, standing up as he walks towards you in a tunic, looking fresh after his long journey. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, stepping towards him.
“I wanted to talk to you.” Marcus shifts slightly, eyes roaming over you as you look up from something you were reading. “I - Marcus-“ he falters slightly. “Will I have a role in the boy’s life? Help train him, or would you prefer that not happen?”
You nod, “you’ll be his father if you wish to be. I have no desire to keep him from you or not let him know his father. We are not Rome, we are not Roman. We do not cast aside our people because of marriage or birth. Our son will be the next ruler of these lands and I wish for him to be skilled in fighting, in tactics. Together, I believe we can raise a fine King for my people.” You offer Marcus a smile, “and I want you to be there for every moment. I’m sorry you’ve missed so much. I truly did not intend to become with child after our coupling and I took the tea but our son…he’s stubborn. I did not know where to send word about his birth. I didn’t want the news to get into the wrong hands.” You explain, hoping he understands.
Marcus nods, understanding even if it was disappointing. “Have you taken an uxor?” He asks softly. “I must confess that I have thought about that day, about you, every day since I left in defeat.” He knows you could laugh, or send him away, but he needs to be honest with you, you have been honest with him.
You smile, reaching up to cup his cheek, “I have not taken an uxor since the man I imagined being my uxor left with his army to return to Rome.” You confess, caressing his cheek. “I know we barely know each other. How could I possibly love a man I don’t know? Yet I do. I know you must be angry with me for my deception but I want you if you will have me.”
“It was war.” He reminds you. “Deception is called for, and expected. It also kept more bloodshed from happening.” He covers your hand with his own. “Are you sure you would like a former Roman general as your lover? Surely men must vie for your hand.”
You scoff, sliding your free hand to his chest, “the men of my lands might vie for my hand but too many of them are eager for power. They wish to become king, take power from a ‘feeble woman’. You are here to serve, not to conquer me. You would not just be my lover, you’d be my companion, my confidant, my advisor.” You promise, “I want someone to support me as I lead our people. I want a partner.”
Marcus thinks on your words before he nods. “I have no allegiance to Rome any more.” He promises you. “My allegiance will be to you, my queen, and my son, my future King.” He steps closer to you. “Perhaps I can help train your army, but I will perform any role you wish me to have.”
You grin, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, “you might be able to teach my men a thing or two about battling the Romans.” You smirk and lean in to press a soft kiss to his chin. Marcus grabs your waist and tilts your head to press his lips to yours. You moan into his mouth, loving the way he pulls you close and you realize the electricity between you wasn’t just the fruit.
Marcus groans quietly and deepens the kiss, you closer to him and feeling his body starting to react to your nearness. It’s not because of the fruit, it’s because of you.
You whimper when his hands slide down to squeeze your ass, his tongue pushing into your mouth and you moan, letting him walk you backwards until you’re pressing against the wall. “I need you Marc.” You plead when his mouth presses against your jaw, “now. Fuck me.”
He hums, breaking away from your lips to kiss down your jaw. “Yes, your highness.” He teases. “I am but your humble servant. This time it’s not because of the fruit that I need to fuck you though.”
It's like a fire is ignited as you fumble to tug his tunic up, wrapping your fingers around his hardening cock to pump him while he bunches your dress up your body to gather at your waist. "Definitely not the fruit." You murmur when he kisses your neck, panting into your skin when you squeeze him, "all because of you, General. My General. My - my love."
Marcus moans your name, accepting now that the fever he feels right now is just because of his feelings for you. His fingers slip under your dress and he finds you already wet. “Have you been thinking about this since I arrived?” He teases as he starts to slowly rub your clit.
You nod, “yes.” Your response is breathless and you whimper his name as he teases you while you pump his cock. “I imagined you taking me while I was sitting at my table, reading my scrolls. Imagined you bending me over and claiming me again and again.”
Marcus growls as he bites down on the juncture of your shoulder. “I imagined fucking you while I was riding my horse on the way to Rome. Seated on my cock while the horse moves. In my bed while I was in Rome.”
“Yes. Yes. I’m yours.” You promise, “please just - I need you inside me.” You whine and he nods, reluctantly pulling his fingers from your clit and he bats your hand away so he can lift your thigh and position himself at your entrance. “Please.” You whimper which transitions into a moan when he starts to push into you.
It’s rough, sex against a wall is far less than a queen deserves, but you seem to love it. Kissing along his neck and moaning into his skin as he fills you up. “Fuck.” He pants, pressing you harshly into the wall. “You are so fucking tight around my cock. Never would have known you had our son.”
You gasp when he pushes into you, his fingers finding your other thigh to lift it so your weight is fully pressed into the wall. "You're so big, amor. So strong. My lover." You moan, wrapping your legs around him as he squeezes your flesh.
He chuckles and starts to move inside you. “A lifetime of battle and blood.” He pants, loving the way you are squeezing his cock. You are so responsive to him.
You caress his chest, kissing his jaw, “and you have a new cause to fight for. I want - I want our son to be as strong as you. I want him to be a great leader like his father.” You murmur, sliding your hands along his shoulders, admiring how broad he is
Marcus groans, moving slowly, showcasing his strength as he rocks into you while keeping you pressed against the wall. “You will teach him politics, I will teach him to fight.”
“He will be a force to be reckoned with.” You gasp when he adjusts you and the angle has him pushing against something delicious inside you. “Fuck, this feels just as good as the first time.”
He can only groan in agreement, kissing you again as he tries to continue to hit that angle again. Loving how your walls clench around him and milk his cock. The magic of the pleasure between you hadn’t been a fluke or because of the fruit. He’s just as desperate for you to cum for him now.
You whimper as he pushes you higher up the wall with each thrust and you slide back down as he pulls back. "You are going to - I'm - oh. Oh. OH!" Your cry echoes across the vast room and you clamp down on his cock, crying out his name as you fall apart for him.
He growls in pleasure when you soak him, your juices dripping down his cock and onto his thighs. “That’s it,” he grunts harshly. “Cum for me. Shake apart for me.”
His cock continues pushing into you and you can't do anything but cling to him, watching as he clenches his jaw. You want to feel him again, no matter the consequences, you need to feel him fill you up. "Cum for me, General. My General." You coo, leaning in to kiss and nip at his jaw.
Closing his eyes, he buries himself deep. Groaning your name in a whimper as he floods your womb with his seed. Coming home to you physically and spiritually. He had come to conquer your lands on behalf of Rome but had been defeated, leaving behind his heart when he left. Only to find that he has a place here, with you and the son you created together. All of this was brought about by the fruits of passion.
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lowkeyerror · 1 month ago
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Ours Together pt 3
Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader
Word Count: 8k
Notes: Agatha All Along Spoilers, canon typical violence, angst, fluff, intimacy bordering on smut but no actual smut, happy ending, everyone survives
Summary: Things get rocky between the coven as they work to get through the rest of trials and off of the road. It begins to feel like Agatha, Rio, and their fallen angel versus the rest of the witches.
An: Took me awhile to write this one, but it is longer than the other parts. This is the final chapter of Ours Together, so I hope you guys enjoyed. Feel free to like, reply, reblog, and slide into my inbox with any questions about this fic. Thank you for reaading 🫶.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Masterlist
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You were trying to find a way to be ok with leaving Agatha behind. The argument that the road wasn’t real, wasn’t working anymore. Not when you could remember the feeling of your wings being severed.
“Looks like the next trial is up ahead.”
A cabin. It’s disarming enough, but you knew better. A glamorous home, and the gates of heaven were both omens on this trail.
“Let’s get this over with,” you mumble entering the wooden structure.
You were uninterested in what was to transpire until you came to the understanding that this was Agatha’s trial. That information made you focus more on quickly executing the task.
Learning that you had to Ouija was disappointing. Due to your previous affiliation you were not allowed to touch the boards. If an angel were too touch a Ouija board there was a chance that their soul would get lost with the others.
So you watched on edge as the others did the board. You couldn’t help, but laugh a little when Agatha pretended to be possessed. You even laughed a bit when board said that Death was here with you. However your laughter completely stopped when it kept spelling out punish Agatha.
When she let go of the board you knew it was going to be all bad. The witches in the coven turned on her pretty quickly.
“It’s clear what we have to do, punish Agatha.”
“Try again because you’re not touching her,” you kept your voice low and calm.
You could feel their eyes on you.
“Y/n it’s what the trial wants. You should know-”
You stop them there, “You’re right, I do know because I had to have my wings cut off. What I learned is what happens in these trials is painfully real. So I dare you to touch her.”
Rio stands by your side, arm loosely hanging over your shoulder, “I’m on her side.”
“That’s not fair. Agatha has literal Death and The Fallen Angel protecting her, what are we supposed to do?” Jen throws her hands up in exasperation.
It starts a bickering amongst everyone. They all send looks your way. It's not something you mind anymore. You had gotten used to hostile starts a long while ago.
“What if it's the only way?” Agatha says just so the two of you can hear.
“We will find another way,” Rio reassures the woman.
That's when the lights go dark. You stay close to Rio, forming an outward facing circle with the rest. Agatha had vanished from her spot.
“Agatha,” you call her name tentatively.
Its not until Teen flashes his light at the ceiling that you see a clearly possessed Agatha drop down. Everyone screams at her appearance.
“What the fuck?” Slips out of your mouth as you watch your lover crawl and swing her arms around.
“Sweetheart, you okay?” Rio calls out tentatively.
“Oh my god.”
Agatha has Jen in her hold before anyone can do anything about it. You all try to get her to loosen her grip, but nothing works until Lilia hits the lights. Once she does you and Rio become frantic as Agatha disappears again.
“Agatha! Where is she, alright? Where is she!” Rio’s frustration grows.
You take her hand in yours, silently. Your eyes wandering the room because you’re still trying to find Agatha as well.
“What’s that?” Teen says as a almost translucent cloud forms in front of the stairs.
Your frown deepens, “A ghost.”
“I hate ghosts,” Rio grumbles as the image of a woman who is familiar to the both of you materializes.
Lilia asks the ghosts who she is. Evanora, answers and you can’t hide your look of irritation.
When Agatha speaks up from her spot on the stairs you feel relief wash over you. She’s ok, you breathe a little easier. Simultaneously, your heart breaks as you watch her pretend to be nonchalant about her mother possessing her.
“You must finish the road without Agatha, leave her with me.”
“No, no way!” Rio’s eyes burn into the ghost.
“Weren’t you guys fighting at some point before all this?”
You glare stays on Evanora, “Yeah, well, her mother can’t have her.”
The ghost floats towards Rio, who takes a step back. You block Evanora’s path, your eyes taking on that dangerous black color.
“Mom? Why do you hate me still?” Agatha comes down the stairs to question her mother with a vulnerability that you didn’t think anyone else would ever see.
“You were born evil. I ought to have killed you the moment you left my body.”
When you see a tear slide down Agatha’s face, you lose it. While the rest of the coven is taken aback by Evanora’s harsh words, you weigh your options.
“We have to go,” Jen says, turning to leave Agatha behind.
Agatha pleas are genuine as they fall from her lips, “Please take me with you. Don’t go. Don’t leave me with her I can be good. Please!”
“NO ONE IS LEAVING!” Your voice shakes the walls as you speak.
Jen tries to take a step forward, but she can’t in fact no one in the room can move freely except for you, Rio, and Agatha.
Evanora sees your display of power and tries to hide herself in Agatha’s body.
“Oh no you don’t, you raggedy bitch.”
You’re quick to lay your wrists against each other and open your palms outward. The magic that emits is black just like your wings. The power hits the ghost. She lets out a cry of agony, looking wildly around as her soul is being melted away by your magic.
“Holy shit,” Teen says as they all watch it unfold.
“You’re a fool. An angel ripped from heaven because of my daughter’s sinister impact, yet you protect her. She doesn't love you, she's incapable. She’s evil reincarnated, she will never-” Evanora’s ramble is quick and panicked as she begins to fade from existence.
You let up on your attack just to get closer to her. You squat down to her level, “Being in love with Agatha is one of the best things that could've ever happened to me. I will never regret it. She has always been good to me, even when I haven’t deserved it. For what you’ve done to her, I will erase you from every plane of existence because you, Evanora Harkness deserve a fate worse than eternal damnation.”
Your wings come out without your permission, making the moment look like something from a movie. With a single hand you begin unleashing your power on the ghost again. Your eyes, black and unblinking, your wings spread wide, your body firm in it’s place as you watch the ghost squirm underneath you.
Her words are incoherent as the screams take over. Her eyes begging for any other fate than this. You black magic drowning her out, until nothing is left. The screams are gone, her soul is gone. Not resting, not in a better place, or a worse place, just gone.
The trial had ended and the exit makes itself present yet, everyone is still frozen in place. Not by your voice, but by what they had just witnessed. Slowly you stand from your spot. Though you want to comfort Agatha, you turn your attention to the coven.
“If you ever think about leaving Agatha behind, I will kill you. I don’t care how old you are, I don’t care about what you want from the road, I do not give a single fuck about your feelings. I honestly hoped you’d shoot your magic at Agatha and just fucking die, but no we have to be on this stupid fucking road,” your anger rises with each word you speak.
“Y/n,” Agatha is gentle as she calls your name.
You shake your head, “Let’s just go.”
You march out of the exit with Agatha and Rio following behind you, and the rest following behind them.
“Sweetheart, I did say we'd go after one more trial,” Rio is careful as she speaks with you, back on the road.
“I’m not leaving her with them. If you have to go then go,” you can feel your jaw clench.
“Hey, I’m not the one who was going to abandon our girl, don't snap at me,” Rio says.
You take a deep breath, “Sorry, that just really pissed me off.”
“I know, I don’t think I remember the last time you destroyed a soul like that,” you can see the worry in her eyes as she looks at you.
“She deserved it. That woman was a piece of shit. Nothing she said was true,” you look at Agatha, who had been uncharacteristically quiet.
“Agatha,” Rio calls her name but she doesn’t answer. “Agatha,” she tries again more firm this time still nothing.
Its not until Death stands directly in front of the woman, her hands on the others shoulder, that Agatha reacts to her.
“I think we should camp for the night,” Rio says softly, and Agatha nods.
You turn to face the coven. They stop as soon as you turn, “Set up camp.”
“We always set it up, while you the go rendezvous for however long you want,” Teen talks back to you.
“Kid, don’t start with me,” your tone has a warning edge to it.
“No, I think I will. You’re not even a witch, why should we listen to you about the witches’ road?”
You roll your eyes, “You don’t know half as much as I do about the witches’ road.”
He stands his ground, “I’ve studied the ballad, I have notes. I am a witch.”
“ I’ve studied the ballad. I have notes. Blah blah blah,” you mock him.
Your words stir something inside the boy. Something that has the magic simmering at the edge of his fingers.
“I bet it was a harsh reality to deal with, once you realized you’d never go back to heaven. Considering that's probably where Nicholas went.”
It happens too quickly for anyone to stop you. You shove the teenager against a tree with an unimaginable amount of force. The tree cracks under the impact. You have two fistfuls of his shirt, tightly wound in your grip.
Your breathing is erratic and your eyes are once again black. The witches around you are screaming and pleading, but you aren’t focused on them.
“You don't get to speak about him like you know him. No one here knows him. You don't know what happened, so stop hypothesizing about my son’s death. It will get you killed, boy.”
“Y/n, let him go,” Agatha’s voice breaks through all the others.
You don’t get the chance to release the boy, as you feel yourself being repelled away from him. The magic is strong enough to push you off, but you don't fall down.
His hands are glowing with blue sparks and you see a crown forming around his head.
“Look who’s grown,” you don't back down from him.
“More than you can say for you son.”
You growl, “DOWN.”
The road seems to shift with your voice. The teen hits his knees. His magic vanishes from his hands. You don’t let him get the chance to speak before you blast him with your power.
He screams, but you don’t care. You stalk closer to him. You can feel hands on you trying to pull you back from him. Yet your vision is tunneled in on him. You strike him with your magic once more and he doubles over.
“Y/n look at me baby.”
Rio stands in your way, blocking you from the teen. You ignore her words but reach for her waist. You grab her dagger and hold it against the boy’s neck.
“You know what losing my son taught me, kid? Sometimes, boys just die,” a single tear rolls down your cheek as you smile sadistically at him.
“Can’t you do something to stop her?” Jen says.
“She’ll kill him,” Alice follows.
“Working on it,” Rio says, gears turning in her head, hoping to find a solution.
“It’s not his time,” Lilia murmurs.
You add pressure to the blade, watching him try his best not to move.
“Please, please I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I can be-"
“Good?” You cut him off.
His words, stuck in his throat, as he realized the similarities between himself and Agatha.
“It won’t bring him back,” you hear Agatha’s voice in your ear.
Her hand is firm on your forearm, keeping you from digging into the teen’s neck.
“Did you hear what he said about Nicky? This little shit deserves it.”
“Love, please,” Agatha tries to reason with you. “He wouldn’t want you to do this.”
You let out an animalistic grunt before pulling the dagger away from the teen’s neck and shoving it into the ground. You stand abruptly and walk away from the group, trying to cool off.
“Word to the wise Billy, do not go pissing off people more powerful than you,” Agatha’s voice is sarcastic, but her gaze travels the boys face trying to find injury.
“You knew? Did you-”
“Yes I knew, you're as predictable as your mother and no I didn't put the sigil on you.”
Lilia speaks up, “I did, for your protection.”
“And the plot thickens,” Rio teases.
“Your familiar almost killed him,” Alice points out.
Rio’s dagger is back in her hand. She twirls it around a bit, “Are we surprised? Billy here, does not know when he should shut the fuck up. Talking about a dead boy, he should be ashamed of himself. Nicky isn't some tool you can use to get a response.”
Billy looks to Agatha for back up, but instead finds her cold stare.
“I know Y/n would've regretted killing you, even if it doesn’t seem like it now. That was more for her than you. I don't ever want to hear his name come out of your mouth again. Understand?”
He nods, his gaze not meeting Agatha’s eyes, “I understand.”
“Great, well go ahead and set up camp, while we go deal with Y/n. Unless anyone has an issue with our rendezvous,” Agatha looks around for objections, she gets none.
Rio and Agatha take off in the direction you were headed. They walk side by side, looking for any sign of you.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like that before” Agatha looks to Rio.
The Green Witch mirror her look of worry, “Me either.”
They find you sitting by the edge of a creek. Your knees your chest as you stare past the water. The anger no longer seeping off of you like before. They sit on either side of you, slightly disappointed when you curl further into yourself.
“Sorry,” is the only word to leave your lips.
Agatha shakes her head, “It’s my fault.”
You and Rio try to protest, but Agatha simply raises a hand. “I let them believe whatever lies have been spun about my relationship with Nicholas. I believed them to be all less hurtful than the truth. It was ok when it was just me they antagonized, but if I knew you would've been their target, I would've come clean.”
“It’s none of their business. The truth would do no good for them. They have no empathy,” you mumble.
“How can you be so sure?” Rio is cautious when she reaches out towards you.
You take her hand and hold it up to your cheek, seeking comfort. Agatha sees this and moves so her shoulder is against yours, her arm tucks it self securely around your waist. Rio’s head falls onto your shoulder. You feel yourself un-tense at the contact.
“They heard my story, they saw our scars, they heard what Evanora said about Agatha, and yet, they still want to pick trivial fights,” your anger was replaced by exhaustion.
“He’s young,” Agatha tries to defend.
“It’s not just Billy. They wanted to leave you behind Aggie. What if Rio and I weren’t there, then what? They would’ve let her have you.”
You blink as the tears being to well in your eyes.
“I can't blame them, sweetheart. I would've done the same if it were any of their trials,” Agatha confesses.
Another sigh escapes you, “I’m assuming Billy made the road as well, while we’re on the topic of frustrating things?”
Agatha nods a few times, “I’m pretty sure. His powers they’re like his mothers, very tied up in his emotions.”
“I was going to kill him,” exasperation on your tongue.
Rio kisses your collarbone, “You didn’t, we wouldn't have let you.”
“He’s right, I’ve thought about it a lot you know? Nicky is somewhere up there like I was. I could’ve been there for him,” you look up to the sky as you speak.
“He’s in safest place he could be,” Agatha bows her head slightly.
“Who knew this made up road would be so stressful?” Rio concedes defeated by the things that have happened.
“At least it brought us back together. I don't think I could’ve spent another century, burning from the inside,” You attempt to joke.
“I think I know something that could relieve some of the stress,” Agatha says suggestively.
She stands, two pairs of eyes watching her intently as she begins to peel off her clothes.
“W- what are you doing?” You stutter, but don't look away from her.
She sits her clothes on a nearby rock, and struts into the creek.
“I’m taking a dip, you two are welcome to join me.”
Your jaw opens slightly at her proposal, “What if they see us?”
Rio stands as well, following Agatha’s suit, “I doubt that they would dare say anything after such a powerful display from our sweet angel.”
“Come on baby, loosen up a bit,” Agatha speaks from her spot in the water.
Rio slides up next to the witch, whispering something in her ear, causing them both to giggle.
“You know I’m supposed to be sulking,” you say getting to your feet, pulling off your clothes.
“Sulking, soaking, same difference,” Rio argues.
The water is pleasantly warm as you sink into it. The three of you bare, in the faux night of the road. It reminds you of the early parts of your relationship. Both women always up for dip in whatever body of water they came across. Nights spent in bodies of water, bathed by the soft light of the moon. Dark purple marks from the eager lips of your lovers.
The memories brought a slight color to your cheeks.
“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?”
Agatha and Rio circle you, in somewhat of a predatory fashion.
“I bet she’s thinking about all the things we used to do in the water. Am I right doll?”
“Perhaps,” you say coyly. “But if you think after centuries, I’m going to give myself to you on the witches’ road, I’m sorry to disappoint.”
“Fair, but a couple of kisses wouldn’t hurt anyone,” Rio wraps her arms around you from behind.
She trails a few kisses up the side of your neck.
“I suppose not,” you crane your neck to give her access.
“I think love bites are fair game,” Agatha’s hands find your waist. Her mouth latching on to the opposite side of your neck. She sucks with delicate force, playfully biting, before soothing the space with her tongue.
“Mhm,” you hum, the pleasure getting to you.
Your hands rest on Agatha’s stomach slowly climbing up to her breasts. You can’t help but play with them in your hands. You lick your lips recalling, how they felt in your mouth. Her moans when you would suck and tease her nipples.
“I thought we weren’t doing this here,” Agatha said breathlessly, as you play with one of her nipples between your fingers.
“We’re not,” you say, with a warmth spreading across your body.
“Then-”
You cut her off with a sensual kiss. She moans in surprise. She slips her tongue into your mouth and you suck on it teasingly. The woman laughs at your antics, which breaks the kiss.
It isn’t a moment after that you feel a hand wrap around your neck. You let Rio pull you into a hungry kiss, turning you body fully towards her. She’s trying to be dominant, but when your teeth tug on her lower lip, she lets out a whimper.
She ends up kissing down your body. Her lips stop right above your scar. She makes eye contact with you as her tongue meticulously traces over it.
It doesn’t go away, you all knew it wouldn't because it had already healed on it’s own. Yet she looks up at you with a pout that makes your knees weak.
“It was worth a shot,” she speaks innocently.
You want nothing more than to grab a fistful of her hair and yank her up to kiss your lips.
“That was hot,” Agatha says, watching with dark eyes.
“We have to stop,” the disappointment in your tone makes the other women chuckle.
“Awe, does baby want to cross her own boundaries?”
You separate from them and make your way back to land. An irritated groan leaving your lips, “We’re not fucking on the road.”
“Don’t be too mad about it hon, this was supposed to be relaxing,” Agatha teases following you.
Rio is the last out of the water, “I’m sure it’ll be worth the wait.”
Going back to the makeshift camp, puts a sour flavor in your mouth, but it’s better than the burning rage you had felt when you left. Everyone is asleep when you return except for Billy.
“I wanted to apologize, for what I said. It wasn’t fair to blow up at you like that,” his remorse was real, you could tell.
“It’s fine, kid. I should be apologizing to you, hundreds of years old and I still can’t keep my temper in check. Let’s just squash it,” you start to make yourself comfortable.
“Did you mean what you said, about letting Agatha kill us?”
You suck in a breath unwilling to lie, “Yeah, I did. It might be hard for you to understand, but I’ve spent centuries away from Agatha and Rio. Having them back is everything to me, and the road strives to take them from me. I would do anything to get us off of the road and nothing will change that.”
“I- I understand. My brother, I would do anything to see him again. Whatever it takes.”
Agatha smiles, “Spoken like a true witch.”
“Word to the wise kid, power plays are never as personal as they seem. In this life, things are taken from you if you hesitate for even a moment. Don’t be afraid of your power and never hesitate.”
“Pretty sound advice for someone who isn’t a witch isn’t it?” Rio teases Billy.
He laughs awkwardly and nods.
“Get some rest, we have a road to conquer,” Agatha’s tone was parental.
Billy does as instructed, feeling better after the talk.
Your stare lingers on him a bit longer. A hand rests on your shoulder, “He’s fine.”
You nod to yourself, “Yeah.”
It’s easier falling asleep than it should've been. Your body is completely exhausted from using your powers so frequently. Time is strange on the road, you couldn't really tell how much time had passed due to the darkness.
“We gotta go now!”
You are startled awake by a panicked voice. You’re quick to get to your feet.
“Where’s the fire?”
You’re damn near being pulled along the road, as you hear steps running all around you.
“The seven are here.”
That sentence seems to shake the sleep from your body. Your eyes open wide as you begin to pick up your pace.
“Then why are we moving so slowly?”
“I’m running as fast as I can,” Lilia speaks, out of breath.
“We could use analog magic to fly?” Billy suggests it and the witches groan as a collective.
“I don’t hear anyone else coming up with ideas,” you say in his defense.
“Blast them with your angel powers,” Jen exclaims.
“Not an angel and I'm not doing a 7 on 1 attack,” you say.
One of the seven ends up catching up to you and like Jen suggested you blast them with your power. She gives you an ‘I told you so' look and you mock her.
“Brooms now,” Agatha says breaking off a branch from a tree.
Once everyone has a working broom you expand your wings and shoot up into the air.
“I thought we were any to have the coolest moment ever, yet here she goes upstaging us,” Rio smirks as she takes off, Agatha isn’t far behind her.
You don't remember the last time you flew prior to your time on the road. This is different than your trial. The cool air surrounds you as your wings flap with a familiarity. You feel free for the first time in a long time. A genuine smile takes a place on your face as you fly.
Agatha and Rio can't take their eyes off of you. It has been too long since they've seen you move freely in the sky. To them, it looks like you are home. Your smile makes them do the same, sharing a look of love between the pair. The shared adoration for you, fills their hearts. A soft fondness in their eyes as they fly side by side. Their love for each other unspoken, but heavy.
The road decides to break up the moment, forcing everyone back on to the path. You end up landing gracefully while most of the others take a rough landing.
It's no surprise that you land in front of another trial. Just like with your trial, everyone rushes in to avoid any of the wandering seven. Once inside it feels like a distasteful costume party. The witches dressed as their famous caricatures, while you have tiny fake black wings on your back with fake horns to accompany it. The only person who looks more ridiculous in your opinion is Rio.
“Why the fuck am I Skeletor?”
You giggle, but place your hands on her fake blue abs, “I think it’s all in good fun.”
Your laughter stops in its tracks when you get a glimpse of the ceiling. Knives dangle overhead threaten to fall. You see the tarot spread and immediately think of Lilia.
“Well looks like you’re up Lilia,” Alice places a hand on the older woman’s shoulder.
“Who am I reading for?”
The others chime with thoughts and theories, but for you the answer is quite clear.
“Your trial, your reading,” you say cutting through all of the chatter.
“Smart girl,” Lilia says beginning her own reading.
When the death card comes up, you can see attention shift to Rio.
She throws her hands up, “All roads lead to me, we already know that.”
The exit opens, but before anyone can step through it the seven are rapidly approaching.
“I’m tired of running,” Lilia stands her ground.
You shake your head, “You’ve got to get out of here, its not your time yet.”
“But-”
“But nothing, you’re a damn good witch, but right now you have to go,” you send her towards the door.
“What’re you doing?” Agatha asks with panic in her voice.
You don’t respond to her, “Billy, if you want to show off that power, now is the time."
Your powers manifested in your hands as you begin to shoot it at members of the seven.
“I’ll try,” magic sparks like electricity at the tips of his fingers.
“Y/n, we have to-”
You shook your head, “Get them out of here Rio. The kid and I got it, just have Alice on standby.”
Rio doesn’t reply, instead she shoves you towards the exit. She uses one hand to push you out of Lilia’s trial and with other she throws out the teen.
She closes the door behind the teen. You begin to bang on the door. You try hitting it with your power but it doesn’t budge. Your fist hits the door a few times, before Agatha pulls you back from the door.
“Why would she do that? She can’t- Agatha, we have to help her. We have too,” you were on the brink of being a mess.
Agatha grabs your face in her hands, trying to get you to focus on her. She gives you a tiny smile, “Sweetheart, they are locked in with her not the other way around. She’s la muerte.”
On cue, you hear the sound of screams coming from the room you were just in. You listen hard and pick up the unforgettable sound of a sword piercing flesh.
“Should we…” Billy says, ready for a fight.
“Easy there tiger, sounds like she has it under control,” Alice keeps the boy back with an exaggerated grab.
Rio doesn’t walk, but skips out of the space where Lilia’s trial was held. Her dagger in hand, glistening with blood. The gleeful nature of her return nearly makes you forget that you were in danger
“ The seven are now the zero,” she says spinning the knife in her hands.
“You could’ve done that the whole time?” Jen questions Rio.
Rio shrugs, “I don’t like getting my hands dirty, too much paperwork if I’m the one that does the killing.”
Instead of stopping to rest like the other trials, you decide to continue on. There’s only one member of the coven to test, before you could finally leave this hell hole.
You can basically see the nerves bouncing off of the kid. If this is the end, then whatever is next is for him.
“Well, looks like your last up kid,” you place your hand on his shoulder.
“I’m ready for whatever it is,” he steels his jaw.
“Just remember, take what you want. Don’t hesitate,” you lose pace with him to fall back with Rio and Agatha.
“Not too long ago you were trying to kill him, and now you’re giving him advice. Look how far you’ve come,” Rio teases you.
You roll your eyes, “I’m just trying to get out of here.”
“No soft spot for him?” Agatha pushes farther.
A smile tugs at the ends of your lips but you hide it well, “Nope. ”
“Guys I think we have a problem,” Alice’s voice calls for your attention.
A row of shoes in front of everyone seems to make silence fall across the group.
“Our shoes,” you hear the anger simmering beneath Agatha’s tone.
“We’re back where we started,” Alice says in disbelief.
“The witches’ road is a circle,” Billy adds on.
“And this is the finish line?” Jen is just as shocked as Alice.
You see Agatha try to use her powers and as nothing happens her face begins to contort into a scowl, “That’s it?”
She glares at Billy before yelling again, “That’s it!”
“Well, maybe we passed the trial?” Lilia tries to reason with the group.
“Then how exactly do we get off?” Agatha’s anger finally tips over.
“Well maybe we-”
“IF YOU DON’T KNOW KEEP QUIET!” She tries to stalk towards the boy, but you’re quick to pull her back into you.
You look to Rio, who carefully watches the interaction in front of her. It’s strange, because you three are the only ones who know that the road has been manifested by Billy. Therefore it is technically his domain, meaning he designed it like this.
“We need to keep going,” Agatha says with her voice low.
The rest of the group quickly breaks into chaos shouting their refusal.
“FINE! STAY HERE!” Agatha growls at the group.
Billy keeps staring at the shoes.
Rio speaks up, “Go ahead, put them on.”
“What do the shoes have to do with anything? “ Alice questions.
“Well you took them off for respect for the road right? Has the road been respectful too you?” Rio points out.
“Screw the road,” Billy says before slipping his shoes on.
No one gets a chance to say anything else. Instantaneously you find yourself confined in a dark space. You panic, feeling all around you until you find a zipper. Once you're free from the bag, you notice that you're in an all white room.
Billy, Agatha, and Jen all appear in the same situation you are in. You leave the body bag and look around.
“Where are we?” Billy asks.
“My basement give or take,” Agatha answers him.
“Where are the others?” Jen asks.
“Not too far,” you answer her.
She squints, “How can you be sure?”
“Cause my insides aren’t boiling from being away from Rio.”
“But Agatha’s right here?”
You sigh, “It’s an and/or type of thing. Meaning if one of them is too far it burns, significantly less than if they were both far, but still burns nonetheless.”
“Glad to know they’re close, but that doesn’t make us any less trapped,” Billy points out that the door is sealed.
“These are grow lights, are we supposed to grow something here?”
“There’s no water or soil,” you point out.
Agatha huffs in irritation, “Sure seems like another stupid fucking trial.”
She digs around in the body bag and gasps lightly, “We do have our personal effects.”
She pulls out her locket, causing the others to dig in their bags. You didn’t come on the road with anything so you weren’t surprised to find your bag empty.
You see Agatha struggling to put on the necklace and walk over to her. You take it from her hands and gently sweep her hair out of the way. Knowing what’s inside the locket, keeps your hands steady as you hook the chain.
You see her smile, relief plastering over her features, “That’s better.”
You go to step away, but she grabs your wrist, keeping you close by.
Billy isn’t so lucky with his notebook, “It’s worthless.”
The body bags disappear once he tosses the book in there.
“Well, I guess the road agrees,” you say sarcastically.
It’s then that the grow lights flicker.
“And now we have our countdown,” Agatha points out.
Jen leans against the wall watching the countdown. Agatha can’t help, but antagonize the woman as their time ticks away.
“I’ll be damned if I let us all die here, after making it this far,” Jen peels herself off the wall to stand in the center of the room.
“You don’t have any magic,” you tell her without any animosity.
“Well she saved me, maybe she doesn’t need it,” Billy points out.
It’s at this point where Jen mentions Boston. You can’t help it as your mouth falls open and you look at Agatha. Her eyes also opening wide, while staring at Jen.
“You need to do the unbinding ritual,” you tell them.
“Doesn’t she need the witch that bound her to do that?” Billy says not connecting the dots.
“Agatha? Are you the one who bound me?” Jen says, rightful frustration in her tone.
She shrugs, “I don’t know.”
You narrow your eyes at her, crossing your arms over your chest, “Now is not the time.”
“You nonstop sociopath!”
“You’re the one who bound her?” Billy can’t believe it.
“How did you even know I was in Boston?” Agatha questions you.
“Old habits die hard, you always went to sell your services in Boston when times got rough, but enough deflecting, do the ritual.”
“You kept me like this for 100 years?” Jen yells.
Agatha tries to defend herself, “ I didn’t know it was you. It was the 1920’s I did the odd spell for bank notes. The patriarchy really shelled out to shush a lady. It was bind or burn!”
“100 years!”
As much as you wanted to push to get the ritual over with, you knew Jen was justified in her anger. That was time that she’d lost forever. You knew better than anyone what it felt like to walk around for years on end as a shell of your former self.
“This is so awkward.”
Jen pulls Agatha into her and starts the ritual. Once it’s over and her magic is running through her she sobs. The reunion of her and her powers means her journey is over. She vanishes from the road.
“Where did she go?”
“The road gave her what she was missing. And now she’s gone,” Agatha deadpans.
You can sense the shift in her attitude immediately. It feels as though she and the teen are facing off against each other.
“This can end right now. I want power, you have power, juice me up.”
“So you get what you're missing and I’m left here to rot?”
You scoff at him, “She could’ve killed you at any point by now. When you were bleeding out of your side or when my knife was at your neck kid, use your head.”
“No one was talking to you, do you even want anything from the road ? Shouldn’t you have disappeared by now too?” Billy tries to pick a fight with you.
“You are the only thing standing in the way of what I want,” you tell him seriously.
“So what it’s 2 against 1 now? I’m not scared of either of you,” he gets in Agatha face, but keeps his glare on you.
The gesture pisses you off and you march over to them. Agatha puts her hand out, motioning for you to stay back. You reluctantly follow her gesture
“What a good little familiar,” Billy directs at you.
Before you can do anything Agatha interrupts, “Sit.”
“Why?”
“We’re going to find your brother."
His whole energy changes, “What?”
She sits down, “That’s what you want right? Tommy isn’t waiting out there. Not in a body anyway. Why do you think Rio came here to begin with? She knows you could do it for him.”
“Do what?”
The teen was so dense that you couldn’t help your outburst, “Give him another life. Another spin around the dance floor.”
His eyes snap to yours, “You think I can bring Tommy back?”
“Time to grow up, kid,” you say to him.
Agatha pats the floor and he cautiously sits down across from her.
You watch her work in only the way she can. Her instructions clear and concise. Just as prodding as they need to be to stir his memories, and get him talking. In another life she could’ve had a coven of disciples.
She keeps him focused on his breathing. Though she has no magic in this moment, you could feel it in her aura. The way she carries herself, there will always be a witch underneath it all.
When she grabs Billy, the lights flicker. Things become intense quickly. He hyperventilates, but Agatha holds him as he begins to rock.
He begins ramble about a dying boy his questions tug at your heart strings, but you remind him, “Don’t hesitate, Billy. Don’t be afraid of your power.”
“Am I killing this boy so my brother can live?”
He lets out a strangled scream, and then he’s gone.
The lights in the room are almost completely gone. Agatha sits still her place.
“No, Billy. Sometimes… boys die.”
It breaks you to hear her like that. You sit behind her and she leans back into your arms. The lights fade faster.
“I’m sorry, we should’ve left when had the chance,” she says unable to look at you.
You just hold her tighter, “Seeing you again has meant everything to me.”
She opens the locket and you both look at the strands of Nicky’s hair. She takes it out of it’s place, finding a small dandelion seed. Agatha sniffles and you bury your head in her shoulder. Your wings expand, wrapping around the both of you.
She looks between your wings and the seed, “Out of death, life.”
She lifts your face out of her shoulder, and swipes the small seed across your tear stained cheeks. She quickly buries it in a crack of the grounds foundation.
You watch as a dandelion quickly sprouts and the room begins to shake. You are quick to hop to your feet as the lights turn back on and the walls begins to shake. Dirt begins to fill the room, much like with your trial.
“What’s happening?”
“The trial is over, we can’t stay here, come on” you begin look towards the previously locked exit.
Agatha pushes the door, but it doesn’t budge. You join the effort to help her, but it’s like something is still blocking it.
“Stand back,” you push her behind you, ready to shoot your powers at the door.
Just as you’re about to blast it, the door is opens. You and Agatha rush through, covered in dirt
On the other side is the coven, who watch the two of stumble into Agatha’s backyard. Your back hits the grass and you close your eyes. You can’t remember the last time you were this relieved to be on the earth’s soil.
The peace doesn’t last long as Agatha tries to use her powers and it doesn't work.
“You have to be fucking kidding me? I WANT MY PRIZE,” Agatha exclaims.
You look at Billy from your spot on the floor, “What gives kid, everyone gets a prize, but her?”
“Why are you asking me?”
Rio ruffles the boy hair with a laugh, “Isn’t it obvious? Billy, conjured up the witches’ road.”
The other witches turn to him, with their jaws dropped. He begins to sputter and point wildly at you three, “Are we seriously going to believe them? Death, the Fallen Angel, and Agatha. What do they even know?”
“We know that the road was never real,” you say sitting up in your spot.
“But Agatha said she walked the road?” Alice points out.
“Is it surprising that she lied?” Jen chimes in.
“She didn’t lie,” Rio defends.
Your jaw clenches, you close your eyes and take a breath. You speak calmly, “Agatha, please… tell them truth about the road.”
She plays with the locket around her neck, “The ballad… I made it, with our son. That’s why I know it’s originally coven 2, it’s about me and him. It wasn’t even about witches, it was about the winding roads we used to have to travel.”
“What really happened to him?” Lilia is the one to ask.
Neither Agatha or Rio speak up. You bring your knees to your chest and face away from the coven, “Nicky, was born sick… he wasn't- he couldn’t. He was made from scratch. With tears of a fallen angel and a heartbeat from death.”
“Rotten ingredients,” Rio doesn’t hide the crack in her voice.
You nod, “Agatha was the only one who could provide him with flesh. It didn’t matter, how much with loved him. Our ingredients just never mixed well. Nicky wasn’t the first, but Agatha begged and pleaded.”
“And threatened,” Rio says quietly.
“Rio had already broken the rules for me. To do it again so soon, was a big risk for her.”
Alice was the one to ask, “What did you do?”
Rio bites her lip, “I could only give him time.”
You bury your head in your knees, “Being around him could’ve gotten Rio in trouble, so we all decided it would be best for us to keep our distance from Nicky.”
“How much time did he get?” Billy asks.
“He was only 6,” Agatha clutches the necklace harshly.
You bury yourself further into your knees as if it would protect you from her words. Rio looks at the ground, unable to relive this yet again.
The coven looks between the three of you, piecing the rest of it together. The tragedy of it all displayed across each one of your bodies.
“The one day I didn’t kill any witches, he died. I went on a rampage after that, I used the ballad to lure witches into my trap. Then I’d get them to attack me and drain them of their powers,” Agatha explains wiping her own tears.
“So that’s what you were going to do to us?” Billy asks, but his tone isn’t accusing.
“Pretty much,” she says with a bored tone.
Jen interrupts, “So you knew it was him the whole time, even with the sigil?”
“Well as soon as the road appeared, I had a hunch.”
They all begin to go back and forth about how it was all for nothing and unfair. The spew words of negativity at Agatha for hiding the truth from all of them. It doesn’t sit right with you or Rio.
“Are guys even listening to yourselves? Alice you aren’t cursed anymore, Lilia you’re done running from your powers, Jen you’re unbound, and Billy you reincarnated Tommy, all thanks to Agatha. So, what are you bitching about? She helped you all achieve what you wanted, whether you want to admit it or not,” Rio goes off on the group.
“She deserves this and as her coven you know that,” you say, getting to your feet.
“Fine, I’ll do it, just don’t kill me” Billy speaks up.
“Scouts honor,” Agatha says as Billy gears up to shoot her.
You stand next to Rio, leaning on her slightly. She wraps her arm around your shoulder, pulling you further into her side. She feels your eyes on her and meets them. You slowly glance over to Agatha and Billy and then back at her. She shakes her head and you nod to yourself.
When Billy shoots Agatha the coven gasp seeing Agatha’s power in real time, sucking the magic out of the boy.
“She’s going to kill him,” Alice mumbles under her breath.
“She won’t,” Lilia and Jen say at the same time.
Agatha hears them and subtly surprised by their confidence in her. Upon hearing it, she cuts the ties with Billy. He stumbles to the ground, but is quickly helped by the rest of the coven.
“Finally, everyone get what they wanted?” Rio claps her hands together.
The all hum in agreement.
“Great, now get out,” she points to the exit of the backyard.
It starts a commotion again as they start to talk over each other.
“SILENCE!” Your voice echoes causing them all to stop talking. “I get it, you’re a coven now, found family yay, etcetera, etcetera. As a familiar who has been separated from her witches, I would really hate for you to get in the way of what would be our first time alone together in centuries. That would really piss me off.”
They murmur in consensus.
“We’ll let you know when it’s ok to come over,” Agatha says shooing them away in the process.
They all pile into Billy’s car and the three of you wave them away. As soon as they pull off, you enter Agatha’s home.
“Well, now what?” Rio asks.
Agatha flicks her fingers replacing her dirt covered clothes, before doing the same to you.
“I don’t know about you, but my back has been begging for a mattress after sleeping on that awful ground,” Agatha cracks her back.
“Pillows,” you nod in agreement.
The three of you climb up the stairs to the bedroom. Once you’re inside, you fall face first into the middle of the bed. Moaning in pleasure as the bed melds to hold your body.
“I hope to hear more of that later,” Rio lays in the space to your right.
Agatha lays to your left, “Such a pretty sound, sweetheart.”
You groan, turning your head between the two women, “Yes, later we can do that, but now it’s time to sleep. So less talking, more cuddling.”
“It’s not even 5 pm.”
“I can go sleep on the couch if you want to argue with me,” you tell them.
“No,” they say in unison.
You smile, “That’s what, I thought. Now, hold me.”
Agatha and Rio’s fingers intertwine as they wrap their arms around you. It’s warm and safe, the horrors of the road, no longer haunting.
You too, had gotten what you wanted from the road. It was this. Rio and Agatha; you all back together. For a moment, having a simple domestic life.
You knew it wouldn’t last long, especially now that Agatha had her own little coven of chaos. Yet the thought of it made you smile. As long as the three of you were together, everything would work out alright.
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freshbakedbreadstick · 2 months ago
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The Physicalities of Grief - Season 2 Arcane Viktor x F!Reader
Season 2 Arcane Viktor x F!Reader
Summary (SPOILERS): It's hard to grieve someone when their not really gone.
Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of the content. HEAVY SPOILERS OF SEASON 2 ACT 1 OF ARCANE!! BE WARNED! Reader is described as having a vagina and uses she/her pronouns. Reader’s backstory is kept vague but is mentioned to be from Zaun (the Undercity), worked with Jayce and Viktor, and was childhood friends with Viktor. Mentions of masturbation, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, heavy grief, angst (not a breadstick fanfic if there isn’t angst), bad coping with grief and emotions, grief horniness LMAO, spoilers, brief fear that someone broke into your place, slightly improper use of his powers (not really use tho more like hinting at it), brief mention of vomiting but not in detail (!!), this is basically shameless PWLP (porn with little plot) that i'm using to cope ok? 
Word Count: 3.3k
A/N: Unfortunately i am using Arcane Season 2 as a form of escapism bc i am not ok (context , i live in the US and i am a woman of color , , , , enough said ) anyways i am a Viktor stan and i love him SO SO SO much anyways AS PROMISE HERE IT IS ! LMAO i can't wait for act 2 to come out ! ! ! ! ENJOY ! (awhhh doesnt he look so normal in season 1 ?)
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It feels like all you have ever known was this feeling.
This feeling of… swelling and crashing waves of anger and sadness. Of overwhelming crying screams, of bubbling tears that blind you, of aching emptiness that makes your joints feel sore and body retch after every meal.
Mel had to remind you that you were grieving, but you could see the way Jayce looked at her, shaking his head softly when she spoke. 
“He isn’t dead,” he would whisper once Mel would leave, but you could only weakly utter “Then why does it feel like he is?”
He never knew what to say to that, just stepping back, face falling. 
It was ridiculous at this point, the way he looked at you with… almost pity. You were sick of it. Everytime he came to you, updating you on the latest findings while you laid in bed, pathetically. Feeling like a waste as he went from spending hours in the lab, working beside his friend’s body encased in who knows what, to desperately fighting you to get you to eat something, anything.  
You felt like a burden, like a waste of a mind and body that was once so ambitious and passionate, moving around the lab to help with whatever you could get your hands on.
“I’m useless,” you would whisper to yourself in the cover of dark, chest empty and eyes red and dry. 
But his words… his words hurt the most. 
“Please eat something, anything!” He cried, trying to ever so gently pin your arms down as he lifted a small cup of soup to your face. 
“No Jayce, no! Stop it!” You cried, barely able to flail against him. 
“I need you to eat something, please! You can't keep going on like this!” His voice cracked. 
You pushed his hands away, successfully hitting the cup and making it clatter and crash to the floor. 
Both of you flinched, pausing mid movement to hear the sound of the porcelain shattering into millions of pieces. 
Stillness for a few seconds. Peace from him for a few seconds. 
Until his voice brought you back. 
“...Viktor would've wanted you to eat… to keep going…” 
It made your eyes burn, chest tightening, throat closing. It made your heart race, limbs suddenly energized for the first time in days, feeling ready to run marathons. 
Did Viktor feel this way the first time he touched the hexcore?
You shoved him away with surprising strength, making Jayce yell and fall to the ground, his arm moving up to shield himself. 
Leaping from bed, you yanked the sheets around yourself, heavy and dark fabric covering the weakness of your flesh from sight. 
“You have no idea what he would've wanted!” Your throat burned as you screamed, lips twisted into a sneer as you glared at him on the floor.
He couldn't even bear to look at you. Coward.
Paled hands moved to claw at your bedside table, yanking the drawers open. You yanked things out, throwing them to find it. Where is it?
Where is it? Where is it? Where is it?
Then you felt it. Soft beneath your fingertips, the embroidered ‘V' he asked you to add onto it scratching your skin ever so slightly. It made you pause, mind rushing and mouth rushing even faster.
“Better yet, you knew what he wanted and still went against him!” Your voice quivered as you yelled at Jayce.
Jayce gasped softly, head jerking back. 
“W-what friend you are,” You stuttered, tears rushing back into your eyes and making your voice sound watery. You felt stupid. 
Jayce’s breath hitched, his mouth opened to respond but you were too quick. You grasped the red fabric into your hands and rushed off, snatching your shoes on before you ran out the door with a choked sob, Jayce yelling out your name as you did so. 
Your body ached as you ran, running into corners and slamming into walls you didn’t sense as you rounded hallways. Your body feverish, only shivered when you stepped out into the chill of the quiet darkness of the supposed city of progress.
Your lungs ached as you ran, panting and gasping between cries. You ran and ran, stumbling and nearly collapsing as you made your descent.
Down, down, down… to the city you knew too well. 
Back home. 
You tucked the blanket closer as you rounded corners with ease, effortless as you hopped over piles of trash and twisted into darkened alleys, avoiding the sounds of twisted laughs and growls. 
You nearly ran into the door of your little old home, scratching at your neck to yank the necklace into the light of the partially broken street lamps. A trembling hand shoved the key into the lock, tugging yourself to press your cheek against the cold door with a hiss. 
It was hard to tell what you were doing in the darkness of the studio, staggering as you closed the door and moved around, getting bruises as you ran into old furniture and beat up tables. You cried out, howling in pain as you made your way toward your bed, hidden in the back of the room. 
One hand reached out, feeling the end of the furniture with heavy pants, eyes wide and barely able to make it out. But it was there, sturdy and reliable, the scent of comfort, of home, reaching your nose as you collapsed onto it, bursting out in wails.
The bed creaked as your body shook, the utter power of your lament echoing in the darkness of the room, red fabric clutched to your chest. 
You could smell him, smell the mixture of coffee, toast, and the unmistakable scent of the lab. 
You cried louder, rattling the windows with each sound as you held the fabric he used to tie his tie, nose buried into it. But it did nothing to muffle you, nothing to withhold the sounds of your cries. 
It felt like days passed before you passed out, falling unconscious without a second thought. 
But when you finally woke, it was dark again. 
Body aching, you sat up in with a heaved breath, wincing at the pain that echoed throughout your being. It was hardly bearable, making you sigh as you realized that you finally did it, you pushed yourself too much and rendered yourself alone, sleeping the day away.
You felt like a ghost skirting around your home, blanket clutched around your form and hand clutching the red fabric to your chest with paled knuckles. Feet made soft sounds as you stomped, using all your strength to collapse onto the sink, holding onto the ledge as you stretched, one hand opening the tap and lips greedily sucking in the water that came down.
You knew that you would probably regret this later, Zaun’s tap water was not meant to be drunk without extra precautions made to ensure it was clean. Afterall, this wasn’t Piltover, where you could drink fresh water from the tap without worry. 
You remembered the way your mother would have to boil it over the fire as a child, wincing as you drank the warm water after running circles around your childhood best friend, who would laugh and watch with a sad glint in his eyes as you did so. All you wanted was fresh, cold water after sweating, throat scratchy and knees scraped with a wonder only a child could possess. 
It made you want to cry again, as your familiar scratchy throat was soothed by the cool water, if only temporarily. 
Your hand barely had the strength to push the faucet shut, slipping onto your knees soon after. 
The fabric pressed against your nose, darkening under the tears that slipped and hit it on its way down your cheeks. Burnt toast… coffee… metal. Burnt toast, coffee, metal. Burnt toast, coffee, metal, Jayce. Burnt toast, coffee, metal, Jayce, you. 
You crawled back into bed, grunting and groaning as your limbs screamed, desperate for you to stop and give up. ‘Forget it, you're alone now’ they said, desperate for a break. 
“Just… let me get to the bed… please,” you heard your gravely voice whisper out, begging yourself.
“...I’ll quit once I get to bed… please…”
‘Fine,’ you told yourself. 
Crumpled there on the sheets, you encased yourself with the blanket like a body laid to rest among the flowers, eyes closed and breathing getting slower. You could hear chatter from just beyond the walls, the sound of people chattering before rushing off, the occasional argument either followed by commotion or silence. It soothed you like a lullaby, as it soothed all children of the undercity. 
But as a fight breaks out nearby, harsh voices echoing the sounds of punches, you squeezed your eyes shut and tried desperately to think of something else. 
Like the day he convinced you to go with him to Piltover.
“Come with me,” he whispered, hand extended out to you, amber eyes glinting with hope for what this opportunity would bring.
“Oh Viktor,” you whispered aloud, voice breaking just like in the memory.
“Please,” he said, brows creasing. 
“But will I fit in? Will they accept me?” you murmured, holding your own hand, looking between his hand to his eyes.
“They accept me,” he breathed.
“That’s because you are a scientist.”
He scoffed, “Do not reduce yourself to utility, regardless of where you come from, you deserve to live amongst them.”
“But they will stare at me like… like I'm trash.”
“Nothing we aren’t used to already… besides… I need you there.”
Your breath hitched.
“You do?” you whispered to yourself, hand clutched to the fabric rising to press it against your nose again. 
Eyelids softened as you thought of the way he smiled, chuckling softly at your bewildered face, smooth voice like melody that made goosebumps spread across your skin as he said, “Of course I need you…”
You didn’t even realize your free hand had inched its way down your torso until your fingertips hit the waistband of your bottoms, making you freeze up, eyes snapping open to stare into the inky darkness.
You panted, chest rising and falling. 
“No…” you whispered, “N-no, no I… I can't.”
“Of course you can,” his voice echoed in your brain, smooth as a ray of sunlight, “Whatever it is you're worried about, I'll help you.”
Finally, your hand fell into his. He pulled you close, so close, that his eyes flickering onto yours felt like it had replaced the sun and the moon, “Come with me.”
Trembling, your hand pushed under the waistband and under your undergarments, fingers tracing over your mound before dipping down to the unabashed wetness of your core. 
You gasped, chest tightening. 
“No,” you whispered into the fabric. 
Burnt toast, coffee, metal.
Your fingers glided down, hips rising and legs spreading, skin so so hot under your touch. With a smooth swipe, the wetness gathered itself on your fingertip, moving to ever so gently press against your throbbing clit.
It made you whine, voice muffled by the fabric held tight against your hand. 
“No please…” you whispered once more, your resolve slipping as you thought of those amber eyes and how they glistened when he spoke about his work.
“C-can’t…” you just couldn’t bear it.
This was your childhood friend you were imagining, your friend who cared so deeply about you that he was willing to take you with him when he got a new opportunity in Piltover. Your friend who sacrificed his health for the sake of finding new tech to help people like you, who weren’t given a fair chance in the undercity. Your friend whose gaze would transfix on you as he explained what he was doing, voice tinged with an eagerness that made him whine when he thought your mind was straying from his words. 
“Darling, are you listening to me?” he would say as you played with some geared models he set out for you to see.
“Yes Viktor, I swear!” 
He would always chuckle and nod, either continuing to explain or instead staying silent, moving to stand behind you.
Your knees and mouth fell open, eyes fluttering shut.
Burnt toast, coffee, metal.
Heavy pants filled the silence of the room. 
You could almost feel the way his hand would slide over yours as you played with the model, long nimble fingers gliding over your skin. 
You would gasp, hand stilling until he began to move it, guiding it with his own.“Here, let me show you… This is how you use it,” he would murmur, warm breath hitting your skin. It was so hard to suppress the shiver he gave you, no longer able to focus on the way he would turn the model the other way, guiding your fingers to press against a gear, turning it in a slow circle to get it working.
Your breathing hitched, hand moving in the way he showed you how. 
His hand would speed up, moving away to let you try it. The gears then began to move on their own, prompting you to move your own hand away, watching the model with an excited smile.
The swelling pleasure in your belly grew, making the smooth movements of your hand become erratic, unable to keep a steady pace. 
“V-Viktor,” you breathed, hips bucking into the air. 
You could imagine it, the way he spoke so smoothly to you, an air of calm to it as if he was speaking to a frightened animal, “Yes, my darling?”
“L-like this?” you croaked, fingers dipping to press against your sopping hole, feeling it drool onto your fingers. 
“Yes, exactly like that… you're doing so good…”
Your breaths grew more and more ragged, shivering as you chased your climax. It was so close, making your head fall back onto the sheets, fabric clutched to your nose, using it to run it up and down your body.
Burnt toast, coffee, metal.
“S-so… close…” you whispered. 
Then you heard it.
A whisper.
You stilled, eyes snapping open and wide in terror. 
You didn’t breathe, you didn’t move. 
‘Go to her’, it whispered once more, a feminine voice you couldn’t make out, too low for you to distinguish.
But you could hear staggered steps, moving. 
You knew you were hidden from view, allowing you an advantage, but this person was moving toward you, slowly but steadily.
You were frozen in place.
Did they come to rob you? Had you even locked your front door when you came in?
But you had no time to think, you were sitting here unarmed and vulnerable. 
Gathering yourself, you sat up in bed, careful to avoid making noise as you peaked above the furniture that hid you, seeing a cloaked figure moving in the dark. You saw nothing, just them staggering. They didn’t seem to be here to steal, brushing past your things without a second glance. 
You prayed to anyone who could hear you that it was just some weary soul needing to rest.
But right before you looked away, you saw it. 
You saw the glow.
A faint blue-purple glow of footsteps that led toward you. 
You swallowed, curling back and into yourself as your eyes trailed the faint humming glow of these footsteps, the way they led right to the foot of your bed. 
The cloaked and hooded figure approached, moving around what hid you to stand at the edge of your bed, looking right at you. 
Then you smelled it. 
Burnt toast, coffee, metal, and… something… more.
Your breath hitched as a bony hand reached up and out, moving toward your face.
You flinched, squeezing your eyes shut as it moved. You didn't see the way it hesitated, pausing right before the warmth of your cheek.
“My darling…” They whispered, voice rumbling in a way that made your eyes snap open and body instantly and unconsciously sag, “Am i that scary?” 
You gasped, shaking as you made out the iridescent eyes that traced over your sunken cheeks and eyes with dark bags underneath. 
“Oh my darling…” he murmured, fingertips finally pressing against your cheeks. 
He was cold, but somehow warmth thrummed through him like… machinery. 
His thumb traced underneath your eye, gently, “Have you been suffering because… of me?” 
You said nothing, pinned to the spot underneath his gaze. 
You tried to say something, but nothing came out. Your mouth only opened and closed, silence emitting from it instead. 
His gaze swept over you, making a shiver go down your spine as you sat there. His gaze stilled, eyes widening ever so slightly as he followed your hands. He paused and, after a beat of silence, he spoke up.
“Here… let me show you.” 
Burnt toast, coffee, metal, and something indescribable. 
The hand cupping your cheeks trailed down to your jaw, tilting it upward to look at him as he shifted to sit in front of you, the overwhelming scent of Him invading your senses.
His other hand moved, gently wrapping itself around your wrist, feeling the warmth of your skin underneath his own. He then slid in, over and down underneath the waistband of your clothes and to your soaked fingers.
You could only stare into the pools of opal that peered into your soul.
A gasp wormed its way out of your mouth as his fingers pressed against you, index tracing around your throbbing clit to your clenching hole. He moved in circles, teasing you by pressing his longest finger just against your entrance before pulling back, moving to press a tiny bit deeper with every movement.
You felt yourself instantly relax, unable to help yourself as the familiar face of Viktor stared at you, eyes softening as he saw the panic melt away. 
“V-Viktor i…” you breathed, “You… d-” 
“I'm supposed to be dead… I know…” he whispered. 
His finger pressed in, making you groan softly as it moved against your warm walls, carefully pressing to find that spongy bit inside of you. He was always so calculated, even now as his gaze focused on your face, tracking every miniscule movement like the way your pupils dilated when you saw him, the way your breathing picked up when his thumb brushed against your clit, and the way your lips parted when his fingers curled. 
“But I'm here now, my darling… you don't have to worry anymore… I just want you to come back with me.”
His voice made your eyes struggle to keep open, soft moans filling the once empty room. You were drunk off him, drunk off the way his fingers moved so deliciously deliberate, stimulating you in multiple ways and making you melt. 
“Viktor…?” you sighed, barely registering what he said. 
“Yes?” Viktor whispered, leaning to press his forehead against your own. 
It sent a shockwave of pleasure through your body, tingling with a purple glow over your skin. 
“I…” gasping for air was all you could do, the overwhelming sensation flowing through your veins as his thumb pressed against your clit, fingers curling in and out of you. You were so close again.
“More?” He murmured, voice soft. 
Your eyes could barely hold his gaze, “N-need you…” 
“Like I always needed you?” 
You moaned out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you shook, the pleasure reaching its peak. 
“Cum for me… come with me.” he murmured, lips brushing against your own. 
He swallowed your moans as you cried out his name, body shaking. His hand on your jaw held you in place, continuing to move his fingers in you and on your clit, your hand wrapped around his wrist as he did so, the other still clutched onto his red tie. 
Pure, white, hot, pleasure stole your vision and voice, making you see visions of a future where you and your people would never have to suffer anymore, not with someone like Viktor to lead them. 
As you came down, body heaving and shaking, he carefully moved his hand off your core before wrapping your weak body with his lapis blue cloak, pressing you against him. Your head lolled, slotting against his neck, smelling the scent of burnt toast, coffee, metal, and something… something otherworldly. 
“Come with me.” He whispered, “I need you.”
“I will.” You whispered, this time not hesitating. 
438 notes · View notes
adieutristana · 16 days ago
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Hi hi hi! Was wondering if you could do a jinx x reader fic where instead of ekko saving her from blowing herself up it was the reader
Tyy <333
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of course! thank you for the request <3
two out of three finals knocked out, then one more tomorrow and im free 💔
summary: fem! reader saves jinx from blowing herself up.
characters included: jinx
tags/warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, suicidal ideation, mentions of poor mental health, s2 spoilers, (some) fluff at the end, reader does not have ekko's time traveling skills (sorry)
men dni.
jinx stands on a ledge, dark tears staining her pale cheeks. long, blue braids gone. her shoes taken away, nail beds raw. she stands, with one of her own bombs, pulling at the safety pin. testing her own fate with each pull growing stronger and stronger.
pulling, pulling, pulling.
until she hears your footsteps, slowly looking over her shoulder. jinx looks through you, her eyes so utterly blank and dull. she looks so… defeated. she’s out of energy and out of resolve. she doesn’t say anything to you, though, only turns back to the bomb in her hands. pulling the pin one more time-
until you wordlessly sprint towards her, throwing your arms around her in a way that miraculously didn’t throw her off her balance. clasping both hands over hers, physically restraining her from putting the bomb to use.
“please, jinx, can we talk about this?”
you plead, your eyes desperately searching for any kind of reason. her eyes are downcast, her face relaxed. too relaxed. her voice comes out in a soft yet exhausted whisper.
“leave me alone, (y/n).”
“no.”
jinx tries to wriggle her hands out of your grasp, her shoulders thrashing with the movements and face contorting. she’s impatient. she wants to do this and get it over with.
“you’re too late.”
she says, still trying to escape your hold. still grasping her bomb, desperately trying to find any kind of purchase. anything. she’s given up, she’s done. there isn’t a point.
“too late for what?”
you gasp, now in a full wrestle with your girlfriend. wrapped around jinx from behind, your hands over hers, sharp nails scratching your skin and jinx writhing. grunting. she’s so frustrated yet so empty, and it makes your heart ache inside your chest. with the loss of isha, being thrown in jail, losing almost everyone she had… you understood jinx. finding motivation to keep living was already difficult enough for her, but almost all of those things had been ripped away from her.
it rips you into pieces seeing your girlfriend like this. you’ve seen it all: her breakdowns. screaming and crying because voices and hallucinations won’t leave her alone. her trying to act as if she doesn’t care when she gets blown off by her sister. coming home with bruises and cuts from god knows where after a mission, or even worse, coming home an inch from death. but never have you seen jinx like this.
jinx’s knees buckle under her and she falls to the ground, but your grasp is still strong.
“drop it, jinx.”
“no.”
“drop it.”
and to your surprise, she does drop it. you hoped to whatever was out there that this was the end of it, that she would give up. she would go home with you and finally tell you exactly what brought her to this point. stationery, the bomb falls on the floor, rolling away from the both of you and jinx staying in that kneeling position.
until she doesn’t.
“i’m tired of talking.”
she mutters under her breath, making her way to a ledge without so much as looking back at you. your senses are blown into full panic mode as you spring to your feet to sprint towards her, reaching for her braids to restrain her from stepping over- but they’re gone. your hand shot to the clasp of her top. holding jinx in place as if her life depended on it, probably because it did.
“jinx, baby, please. i know that things have been hard, you’re not happy. but you have to stay alive. for me, if nothing or nobody else. please.”
you plead. you circle jinx to stand in front of her, placing your hands on her shoulders gently. almost afraid that she’ll break if you handle her too harshly, especially after just restraining her to stop her from killing herself. your eyes are filled with tears just waiting to spill, your lips pressed into a thin line. and then you feel jinx begin to tremble.
like a bridge that's lost its foundation, shaking and threatening to combust. her breathing is getting quicker, her eyes are darting from place to place to place, but never once settling on you.
"jinx."
you squeeze her shoulders, looking into her eyes, desperately trying to get through to your girlfriend. there has to be something you can do, surely. how come nothing is working? you've already pulled out all of the stops, what more could you do? what, if anything, would be successful? the tears in your eyes spill over, but you don't make any sound. you can't. you have to hold it together for jinx's sake.
jinx swallows tentatively. quivering.
"i... i can't do this anymore."
"of course you can," you whisper. reaching up to cup one of her cheeks with your hand, but she jerks away.
"everyone i get close to dies. or they leave. mylo, claggor, vander, isha... will you be next?"
she asks, finally locking eyes with you. it's clear that it's a rhetorical question- jinx doesn't want an answer. she wouldn't be able to handle an answer, not right now.
“no. no. i’m not leaving, jinx- and i don’t plan on dying any time soon. please, listen to me.”
you beg her, still looking into her eyes, half-lidded and glowing pink. one hand coming up to try and cup jinx’s cheek again, and this time, she allows it. this is a good sign. you’re getting somewhere.
“i have to break the cycle. i have to do something to fix all of this,” she says. “i’ve done so much i can’t come back from. what else is there to do?”
“walk away.” you whisper.
“what?”
“walk away. you don’t need to die, jinx, walk away. go somewhere. take me with you. you can still break the cycle without doing this.”
your thumb is brushing her cheek, your own cheeks stained with dried tears.
“what is your death going to fix? if anything, it’ll cause more pain. zaun will be fine if you walk away, but could you imagine what would happen if you died?”
jinx looks down, and another tear falls from your eye.
“please, you have to stay. i’ll come with you. i’ll do anything. just please, baby, don’t die. i don’t know what i would do with myself if you did.”
you plead with jinx. desperation is obvious in your tone, her jaw quivering, threatening to cry herself. she’s spent.
you feel jinx’s hand slowly, hesitantly coming to rest atop yours on her cheek, and all she does is nod. slowly.
“let’s go home.”
you whisper, brushing a lock of hair from out of her eyes.
“what do i do from here?”
jinx asks, her voice low and unsure.
“we’ll figure something out. i promise.”
375 notes · View notes
neferaskingdom · 3 months ago
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♡ Sign Here… Wait, What?! | CL16
NEFERASKINGDOM
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Summary: Two strangers hit the courthouse for a ticket and a typo fix—next thing you know, they’re accidentally married. Chaos, a clerk who couldn’t care less, and a fiancée on the verge of a meltdown, convinced it’s all some evil plot. Spoiler: it’s not.
"For the last time, Brittany, it wasn’t on purpose!"
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A/N: Inspired by my writer's block for my other fic and that one video of Charles just randomly signing anything he's handed.
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CHARLES LECLERC MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
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The courthouse was an absolute disaster. It was understaffed, overcrowded, and seemed to be held together by the fragile thread of everyone’s fraying sanity. You had been stuck there for hours, and all for a minor spelling error in your legal name. At this point, you were half convinced you’d be old and gray before they got to you. The whole place felt like a purgatory of paperwork.
The guy sitting next to you looked equally miserable. He had a baseball cap pulled down low and sunglasses on like he was trying to go incognito in the world’s least glamorous place. You hadn’t exchanged many words, but the mutual annoyance simmering between you two was almost palpable.
“This is hell,” you muttered, crossing your arms tightly. “Who knew fixing one typo would take all day?”
The guy let out a long, weary sigh. “Tell me about it. I’ve been here for hours. And all for a stupid speeding ticket.”
You shot him a sideways glance. “A speeding ticket? In this city? I didn’t think that was even possible.”
He gave a small chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, I guess I just had to be that guy.”
The shared complaint was enough to crack a small smile out of you. But that was the only bright spot in this nightmare of a day. Every time the overworked and increasingly agitated clerk called someone forward, she did it with the enthusiasm of someone trapped in the seventh circle of customer service hell. Her eyes screamed “don’t even think about making my day worse,” and the way she barked out “Next!” like she was calling people to their doom wasn’t helping anyone’s mood.
Finally, the fateful “Next!” came again, and both you and the guy next to you jumped up at the same time. You both stared at each other, disbelief and irritation flaring up.
“I think it’s my turn,” you said, arms crossed.
He raised his eyebrows under the brim of his cap. “Uh, no, I’ve been waiting way longer.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been waiting forever for a typo correction!”
“And I’ve been here since this morning for a stupid speeding fine!” he shot back, his voice rising in frustration.
You both stormed toward the counter, practically shoving each other out of the way, bickering like children. The clerk didn’t even look up from her screen, clearly sick of everyone and everything. “Names,” she demanded with the enthusiasm of a broken vending machine.
“Charles Leclerc,” the guy said, jumping in before you could even open your mouth.
You blinked at him in surprise. Charles Leclerc? Who just throws out their full name like that? You barely had time to process before the clerk barked out her next order.
“Both of you, step forward.”
“Wait, what? Why me?” you blurted out, confused as hell.
The clerk didn’t respond. She just jabbed her finger at the space in front of her, signaling for you both to step up. You shot Charles a questioning look, but he seemed just as lost as you were, though he didn’t argue. Sighing in defeat, you stepped up beside him.
The clerk slapped two pieces of paper on the counter with the grace of a war general deploying a tactical nuke. “Sign here.”
Charles didn’t even hesitate. He grabbed the pen and signed his paper with an alarming speed, as if this was something he did every day. You stared at him like he’d lost his mind.
“What are you doing?” you whispered, still unsure why either of you were signing anything.
“I dunno,” he muttered back, not looking up. “People give me stuff to sign all the time. It’s muscle memory.”
Muscle memory? Who just signs things without reading them?! You were about to protest when the clerk shot you a look so sharp it could have pierced through solid steel.
“Sign,” she repeated, her voice low and dangerously calm.
Your stomach twisted in confusion, but the clerk’s death stare was enough to make you scribble your name down without another word. It didn’t feel right, but you were too exhausted to fight. The ink had barely dried on the paper when the clerk slammed a stamp down and said, with zero enthusiasm, “Congratulations, you’re married.”
A beat of stunned silence.
Then chaos erupted.
“WHAT?!” you and Charles screamed simultaneously, both of you staring at the clerk in absolute horror.
Charles dropped the pen like it had just burned his hand. “Wait—what do you mean married?!”
“I’m here for a speeding ticket!” he continued, his voice cracking in disbelief.
“And I’m just here to fix a typo!” you added, throwing your hands up. “How did we just get married?!”
The clerk just raises one eyebrow and looks at her computer screen “But it says here that a Charles is supposed to get married today”
“Well clearly it’s not me!” he screams.
The clerk, utterly unfazed by the chaos she had just unleashed, didn’t even bother to look up from her computer. “You signed the marriage certificate. You’re married.”
You blinked at her, feeling like the room was spinning. “How—no, there’s got to be some mistake. We can’t be married. Can’t you just, I don’t know, not register the paperwork or something?”
The clerk slowly raised her eyes to look at you, her expression blank and dead inside. “It’s against the rules,” she said, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Against the rules?!” you repeated, your voice reaching a higher pitch.
Charles let out a panicked laugh, running a hand through his hair. “This is insane. This can’t be happening. I’m not even supposed to be getting married!”
Suddenly, a man in the back of the room shot to his feet, waving his arms frantically. “WAIT! WAIT, NO! I’M CHARLES ANDERSON! I’M THE ONE WHO’S SUPPOSED TO BE GETTING MARRIED TODAY!”
The whole room turned to look at him as he came barreling toward the counter, his crumpled papers in hand.
“YOU CALLED FOR CHARLES!” he shouted, pointing accusingly at the clerk. “I’M CHARLES ANDERSON! THEY’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE MARRIED! I AM!”
You and Charles Leclerc whipped your heads toward each other, eyes wide in absolute disbelief. “Oh my God,” Charles muttered, shaking his head. “This is an actual nightmare.”
You stared at him, trying to make sense of everything. “I don’t even know you!”
Charles Anderson was now pacing in front of the counter like a madman, his papers flailing in his hand. “My fiancée’s going to kill me! They took our spot!”
You turned to face him, throwing your hands in the air. “We didn’t ask for this, okay?!”
“Can we fix this?” Charles asked the clerk, his voice cracking slightly from panic. “Like, can we just undo it? Cancel the whole thing? Please?”
The clerk let out a slow, dramatic sigh as if they were asking her to climb Mount Everest. She clicked a few buttons on her computer, then looked up at you both with the same bored expression. “Closest annulment appointment is… this Tuesday.”
“TUESDAY?!” you both screamed, causing half the room to turn and stare at you.
Charles Anderson let out a high-pitched shriek. “But my wedding is supposed to be TODAY! WHAT ABOUT MY WEDDING?!”
You whirled on him. “NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOUR WEDDING, CHARLES ANDERSON!”
Charles Leclerc was pacing now, hands on his head like he was trying to keep himself from exploding. “I can’t believe this is happening. This can’t be happening. I came here to pay a stupid speeding ticket, and now I’m married?”
You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling like you were going to hyperventilate. “I came here for a typo correction. This was supposed to be the easiest thing ever, and now I’m married to someone I don’t even know!”
Charles Anderson, still flapping his marriage certificate, looked like he was going to start sobbing any second. “My fiancée is going to leave me. She’s going to walk out of this courthouse and leave me. We’ve been planning this for months!”
You threw your hands in the air. “This is not about you, Charles Anderson! We just accidentally got married, and you’re worried about yourself?!”
Charles Leclerc spun around to face the clerk, practically begging. “Please, can’t you just… not file the paperwork? We didn’t mean to sign anything!”
She stared at him, eyes glazed over, before sighing deeply. “It’s against the rules.”
“AGAINST THE RULES?!” Charles repeated, his voice reaching a panicked squeak.
The clerk took another slow sip of her coffee. “You can get an annulment. On Tuesday.”
Charles threw his hands in the air, pacing faster. “This is insane. I can’t just—Wait.” He turned to you, blinking rapidly. “Who even are you?”
You blinked back, equally confused. “I don’t know! I mean—I’m me? Who are you?”
“I’m Charles Leclerc,” he said, as if that was supposed to mean something.
You squinted. “…And?”
“And I drive in Formula 1.”
You stared at him blankly. “What’s that? A type of bus?”
Charles Anderson finally chimed in, “Oh my God, you don’t know who Charles Leclerc is?!”
You turned to glare at Anderson. “I don’t care! I just want to undo this whole mess!”
Charles Leclerc let out a frustrated groan. “This is the weirdest day of my life.”
“Oh, you think?” you shot back, throwing your arms up. “This is not how I imagined my day going either!”
Charles Anderson was now pacing in circles, mumbling about his ruined wedding day. The clerk, unbothered by the chaos she had caused, sipped her coffee again, clearly wishing she were anywhere else.
“This is insane! Can’t you just shred the papers or something?” Charles Leclerc was practically pleading now, his hands gesturing wildly like he was on the verge of losing it. “We didn’t mean to get married! Just pretend it never happened!”
The clerk, still sipping her coffee like none of this was her problem, took an agonizingly slow sip and deadpanned, “As I’ve said already, it’s against the rules. The paperwork is in. It’s legal. You’re married.”
“WHAT RULES?!” you cried, throwing your hands in the air. “There’s no way we’re stuck because of a technicality! This isn’t an episode of Law & Order! No one’s going to arrest you for this!”
The clerk blinked at you, her expression as blank as ever. “The rules are the rules,” she said, like she had this line tattooed on her forehead. “Take it up with a judge.”
Just as you were about to lose your mind, there was a loud crash behind you. You turned in time to see a woman in a wedding gown who was most definitely Charles Anderson’s fiancée, kick a chair out of the way, marching up to him like a woman possessed.
“YOU’RE DOING THIS ON PURPOSE AREN’T YOU?” she screeched, pointing an accusing finger at Anderson, who shrank back in terror. “You just didn’t want to marry me, so now you’re pulling this stunt?”
“What?! No!” Anderson yelped, looking around the courthouse like he could find an escape hatch. “It’s not my fault Brittany! They—” he pointed at you and Charles Leclerc, “—they’re the ones who got married!”
Brittany wasn’t having it. “Yeah, right! You’ve been making excuses for months, and now you’re going to try and pin this on them?! What, did you pay them to mess up the paperwork?”
You waved your hands in a panic. “Lady, we don’t even know each other! I’m literally just here to fix a spelling mistake in my name!”
Charles Leclerc jumped in, looking equally panicked. “And I’m just here for a speeding ticket! I don’t even know what’s going on!”
Charles Leclerc looked like he was officially losing his mind. He was pacing in circles, gesturing wildly at the air, as if the universe might suddenly intervene. “I have a race next week! I can’t be married right now! This is insane!”
You stared at him, completely lost. “What are you even talking about? Why does a race have anything to do with this?”
Charles paused mid-panic, looking at you like you’d just said the sky was purple. “For the last time I’m a Formula 1 diver!.”
You blinked and scream out in frustration. “…YOU KEEP SAYING THAT LIKE IT SHOULD MEAN SOMETHING TO ME!?”
Charles looked at you like you’d just spoken in a different tongue. “Formula 1! It’s international. Fast cars, precision driving, circuits all over the world?”
You squinted. “So… like NASCAR?”
Charles’s eye twitched. “NO! It’s not like NASCAR! It’s—" He took a deep breath, clearly trying to calm himself. “Formula 1 is completely different. It’s the pinnacle of motorsport. We race on tracks, not ovals, and the cars are way faster and more advanced.”
“Oh,” you said, not even pretending to be impressed. “So it’s like NASCAR with extra steps.”
Charles groaned, pressing his palms into his eyes. “I can’t do this.”
Before you could respond, Brittany threw her hands up in the air, clearly fed up. “I CAN’T DO THIS EITHER!” She pointed at Charles Anderson, who was now trying to hide behind the counter. “I knew you were stalling this wedding on purpose, Charles! You’ve been dodging this day since we got engaged!”
“Brittany, no! I swear it wasn’t me! It’s just some kind of mix-up!” Anderson tried to reason with her, his voice cracking under the pressure. “It’s a misunderstanding! I didn’t plan this!”
“Oh, so you just accidentally handed over our wedding slot to complete strangers?!” Brittany’s voice was so loud now that other people in the courthouse were starting to stare. “And now we have to wait while you run around trying to fix your mess!”
You slapped your hands over your face, feeling the absolute ridiculousness of the situation weighing on you. “This is the dumbest thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Charles Leclerc was now pacing frantically again. “I can’t be married! This is… this is a PR nightmare! my career is ruined! Fred's gonna kill me!”
“Oh my God, no one cares about your stupid racing career!” Brittany screeched, cutting him off. “My wedding’s been hijacked, and you’re worried about PR?!”
Leclerc turned back to the clerk, his voice rising in desperation. “Can’t you just void the paperwork? Pretend this didn’t happen? We didn’t actually want to get married!”
The clerk, completely unaffected by the chaos swirling around her, let out a slow, tired sigh. “It’s against the rules.”
“SCREW THE RULES!” you shouted, slapping your hand on the counter. “No one cares about your rules! Can’t you just— I don’t know— delete the file or something?”
“The government cares about the rules,” the clerk responded flatly, barely looking up from her computer screen.
Charles Leclerc, utterly exasperated, ran a hand through his hair and muttered, “This can’t be happening. This is the worst day of my life.”
“Your life?!” you shot back, eyes wide. “I just came here to fix a typo, and now I’m married to a stranger who yells about race cars!”
Leclerc threw his hands up in frustration. “I’m not yelling about race cars!”
“Yes, you are!”
Brittany stormed back up to the counter, where Charles Anderson was practically cowering. “And you,” she hissed, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You think this is some big joke, don’t you? Delaying the wedding again just because you don’t want to marry me?!”
“I swear, it’s not what it looks like!” Anderson pleaded, trying to grab her hands. “I love you! This is just a mistake!”
“Mistake my ass!” Brittany shrieked. “We’ve been engaged for three years, and now, instead of us getting married, I have to watch these two idiots get hitched by accident!”
You threw your hands up, eyes darting between Brittany and the hysterical Anderson. “We don’t even want to be married! This isn’t some elaborate plan! I’ve literally known this guy for less than five minutes!”
Leclerc, looking like he was about to snap, turned back to the clerk. “There’s nothing you can do? Nothing at all? Can’t we get, like, an emergency annulment or something?”
The clerk glanced up lazily from her coffee. “Like I said next available appointment for an annulment is this Tuesday. Wait no, it’s actually next Tuesday”
“NEXT TUESDAY?!” you and Leclerc both screamed in unison, your voices echoing off the courthouse walls.
“Can’t we just get another slot today please?!” Anderson wails
“Sorry but the fastest I can squeeze in a wedding is on Saturday 25th” the clerk says sipping her coffee nonchalantly.
“The 25th?” Anderson whimpered. “But… my wedding is today! The 25th is like 2 weeks away!”
“Oh, shut up, Charles!” Brittany yelled, practically shoving him. “There is no wedding today! You’ve ruined it! And you know what? Maybe that’s for the best!”
Charles Anderson looked like he might burst into tears at any moment. “But Brittany—”
“Save it!” she snapped, before turning to you and Leclerc. “And you two? Good luck with your stupid accidental marriage. I hope you’re very happy together.”
Leclerc, who had clearly had enough, shot back, “Oh, we’ll have a blast. Trust me. This is exactly what I wanted out of today. To marry a complete stranger in the middle of a bureaucratic nightmare.”
You rubbed your temples, feeling a headache coming on. “This has got to be some kind of cosmic joke.”
From behind, Anderson was still shrieking about his doomed marriage, while Brittany yelled about commitment issues and a wedding that would “never happen at this rate!”
Charles Leclerc leaned over the counter, looking like he was about two seconds away from losing it entirely. “Is there nothing you can do?”
The clerk just looks at him. “Next tuesday.”
He threw his hands up and muttered under his breath, “I should’ve just paid the speeding ticket online.”
The clerk, unfazed by the circus happening in front of her, sipped her coffee and calmly called out, “Next in line, please.”
And that ladies and gentlemen is how you ended up accidentally married to Charles Leclerc in the most ridiculous courthouse mix-up of all time.
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