#HOLY SHIT I WROTE OVER THREE THOUSAND WORDS

[anyarose011]

Agape

Pairing: Lucius x Reader

Summary: After the Roman Empire had fallen, birthing the Republic, you and Lucius had finally found a moment to breathe in each other's presence. Over a few years' journey of healing, you find that is both exhausting, yet all the more fulfilling at the same time.

Part 2 of 2 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Past SA, Depictions of Grief, Violence, Angst, Miscommunication, Historical Inaccuracies [I tried my best to make it kind of accurate], Nudity (sexual and non-sexual), Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex (f receiving), P in V Sex

Paul Mescal's facial hair in All of Us Strangers, if you can hear us, please save us. Nobody ask me how I went from "’Oh, I’m just gonna write some scenes about healing from trauma, and the rest is smut! Easy!" to then making it just a little longer than the first part. I'm a yapper, but holy shit XD. Anyway, this is just shameless pRopAgAnDa at what I personally view a husband to act like (even in modern times). So, without further ado, thousands of words of hurt/comfort and smut.

Word Count: 16.4k

You were a lucky child. When you were twelve and your friend was married off to a man who was forty-two, you asked your father when you would be married.

He tucked you in that night, saying that he wasn’t certain, and that you had nothing to fear; for he wouldn’t promise you to a man who was in a war the same year you were born. He would have to know him personally as well, saying.

“It’s easier to like a man than have to plan his assassination if he dared lay a hand on you.”

You like to think he would have approved of Lucius; he was the once heir to the Roman Empire.

You don’t think he would have approved of your…informal marriage.

“A year.” Lucius stated as the two of you sat together in one of the piazzas. “As long as we are not separated from each other for more than three days, Rome will view us as married if we live in the same household for a year.”

You hummed. “And why should we care what Rome views?”

“Men won’t stop their advances on you if they saw you as my sister.” he explained. “Even as a wife, that doesn’t stir them.”

“It’s a very Christian belief of you to have.”

“But it makes them think thoroughly on if they want to risk tainting you.” Lucius finally looked at you. “Knowing that I would break every finger they touched you with.”

Even with his proclamation, you merely shrugged. “Being the emperor’s favorite whore, I doubt they would care.”

He sighed. “Do you want to know what my mother wrote? Her final words that will forever be with me because they are in ink? ‘Take her as your wife.’”

It had only been one day since Lucilla’s death, since Rome had become a Republic, and no one knew exactly what to do.

Yet…even at the mention of her presence, you felt tears spring to your eyes.

How you hated crying; and crying and crying.

“It is wise.” You finally settled on. “The people here too must see me as a traitor.”

“You would be dead if they did.”

“It’s still early.” You smiled sadly. “I desired to be free of the emperors, but all they must have saw was lust for power.”

Lucius sighed. “If it is a concern, then I believe it is best to leave Rome.”

Suddenly, you were no longer afraid for your life. You scowled. “Leave the city you risked your life to liberate?”

“It is not just my own life I need to think of now, is it?”

“Then think of mine.” you began. “I don’t wish to leave. Where would we even go? I know nothing outside of Rome.”

This would have been solved if you somehow still had the house you grew up in. The moment Geta claimed you, it was gone. Even with the fall of the Empire, and the birth of the Republic, you could not take it back.

Among many other things, you could not take it back.

“We’ll live just outside the walls.” Lucius suggested. “A farm perhaps a few miles from here-.”

“-A farm?” You questioned. “You know how to farm? Because I sure don’t.”

“I’ve lived longer on a farm than I have in a palace.”

It shouldn’t have surprised you, but it did. You also weren’t in the position to bargain. Even though it wasn’t going to be what most would deem an ‘official’ marriage, he still owned you. That was how it always was, whether living outside of the Roman walls or not. Still, you had to try.

“I will learn as much as I need to,” You shook your head. “but I will find a job in the city. You cannot believe I will be shut out-.”

“-Do you want to share a room, or would you like your own?”

You furrowed your brow. “What?”

Lucius restated. “We don’t have any money to buy a farm, so I’ll build us one. Do you want your own room?”

You had only known him for a grand total of a day and a half (if you were to add up all the previous times you had spoken to him before Macrinus’ death), so needless to say, his offer shocked you; more so, it impressed you.

“Isn’t it odd for a man and wife to not share a bed?” You asked.

“So, you want to share a room?”

“No.” was your immediate response. “I just…”

Am not used to compromising with men without them threatening my life.

“Won’t it cost money to build a house?” You asked instead. “None the less, more for another room?”

“I only want you to be happy, if we’re to be married.”

There you were, asking every question and not being satisfied with his answers, yet he was remaining patient.

“Thank you.” You bowed your head in thanks for just a second before questioning. “I am still allowed to have a job in the city? It will help with the cost, of course.”

 “Where exactly do you intend to work?”

He said your name; not ‘Julia’, the name you had whispered to him in his cell. Lucius was the only one who had said it to you, for you did not even tell Lucilla or Marcus. It still felt strange hearing it on your lips, nonetheless, his.

Still, shaking your discomfort away, you hummed humorlessly. “I know two women who run their own businesses; hairdressing and tailoring. I’m better at hair than clothes, but not so much. And you?”

He sighed. “I’ll see if there’s any other farmers needing a hand.”

“You’re going to work for a farmer to build a farm?”

“It sounded more bizarre in your head than when you said it aloud, did it not?”

That was the first thing you found out about Lucius after all the bloodshed and heartbreak of the last week:

He spoke with such a straight tone, you did not know he was joking until he would smile just a hint; you couldn’t really call it a true smile.

You managed to grin. “I suppose it makes sense. You should find one that will let us sleep there.”

And he did. A farm just a few miles outside of Rome took both you and Lucius in. It was substantial, housing five chickens, two cows, three pigs, four horses, and seven human children. Albeit the children helped with the chores, but the eldest was only ten and could not manage any of the heavy lifting whatsoever, which was where Lucius came in.

From sun up to sun down, he’d work on the farm. The farmers, Atticus and Diana, let you sleep in the barn of all places. The hayloft was nice for the both of you; enough space to spread out but not be right next to each other. There was also somewhat of a wall between the two of you, giving the illusion of separate rooms.

It was certainly an adjustment for you; had been sleeping on the softest of beds for months, but even so, you just missed the bed from your old house.

Lucius fell asleep the second he laid on the hay.

Dreams and nightmares were always a peculiar thing. Some days, you would dream of your mother and father, some days, they would be of Lucilla and Marcus.

You had nightmares of what befell you before coming to the farm; Macrinus and his manipulation, Caracalla’s temper, Geta…

Yet, the worst that would happen would be you waking up more tired than the night prior. You knew Lucius was having nightmares too, but every time you approached him, he would lie and say he was fine, or simply not want to speak of it.

You stopped asking.

For the first few days on the farm, you were put to work by watching over the younger children when their mother was busy. Somehow, it was the older ones you didn’t mind, it was the youngest baby who was a handful.

It’s morbid to say, but you always wondered how any of them survived infancy.

Luckily, you managed to get back to Rome after perhaps a week of being stranded on the farm. It was almost an hour walk, and you had gotten up even before Lucius had, but it was worth it.

It wasn’t that you felt dead as you were on the farm per say, but walking through the streets brought a certain kind of life back into your steps.

You spent a good portion of the day trying to find the hairdressers you talk to Lucius about. Just as you were about to give up and try again tomorrow, something caught your ear.

Hebrew.

You turned over your shoulder and saw a man speaking in Latin to another man and a pregnant woman. The father had spoken in broken Latin before turning to his wife, speaking quickly in Hebrew as if to ask her what to say.

The Roman man began to yell, and you rushed over, speaking to the patriarch of the family.

“What’s going on?” You asked quickly.

His eyes grew as if you were the first person in Rome to understand him (you probably were). “I paid for a bag of peaches fairly; two bronze, yet they’re saying it wasn’t enough.”

You turned to the man behind you. “He says he gave you two bronze for the peaches.”

“It was three.” The Roman man gritted his teeth.

Tilting your head, you tried. “Show me your stand so we may see.”

It was perhaps stupid of you to challenge him; yet, he controlled his tempter and led you to his fruit stand. The sign by the peaches indeed said ‘2’, but there was also a good amount of peaches blocking the bottom half of the sign.

When you moved a few, it read ‘3’.

You smiled, looking at the man who spoke Hebrew. “It is three, but it’s not your fault this brute didn’t notice either.”

He nodded, returning your grin before handing the men another bronze. With an few mumbled exchanges, the man and his wife were on their way.

“You have Judeans in your family?” The man crudely asked.

Still, you decided to reciprocate his crassness with kindness. “I actually speak five languages.”

He rose his brows. “Is that a fact?”

“Yes, yes it is.”

He hummed, holding his hand out. “Isidorus.”

“Julia.” Was your immediate response as he took your hand and kissed your knuckles. It wasn’t even your own choice to say that name; it was what you lived by. Retracting your hand, you shake your head and said your own name. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-.”

“-All of Rome knows who you are.” He interrupted. “Do not be afraid of your own people. Most of them were there simply a week ago when you tried to slay Macrinus but was there to comfort lady Lucilla in her final moments.”

You only nodded, not wanting to be praised. “I thank you for your kindness.”

“With certain.” He nodded. “You are with child; only a monster would harm a woman carrying.”

The events of the past weeks had made you forgotten about the false babe. Luckily, the fear upon your face could be used to your advantage.

“Are you not well?” Isidorus questioned.

You dropped your gaze, stammering your tone. “The…I lost the child.”

He looked down as well. “Oh…I’m so sorry.”

“No,” you shook your head. “it’s…it feels odd. His father was terrible but…”

“Why are you perusing Rome unchaperoned?” He changed the subject.

 “My betrothed is being put to work,” you immediately answered. “and I am scouring the streets to find my own.”

“What has your luck been?”

“Nothing.”

Isidorus hummed. “I could change that.”

Even at the thought of what he was alluding to, you smiled. “Good sir, I am not in the position to sell my body-.”

“-None of that.” he waved his hand. “My brother works down at the entrance of the city gates. They’re always in need of translators.”

You nodded, considering. “When may I meet with him?”

“Tomorrow?” He asked. “Midday at the gates with many people watching so you do not feel threatened?”

The two of you laughed, and you agreed. “I shall be there. Thank you.”

“Anything to help a woman of the people.”

You walked all the way back to the farm with a skip in your step. Even at dinner, you were more talkative with the rest of the family. Lucius certainly took notice as the two of you were settling down for the night.

“You seemed better today.” He complimented, laying onto his bed of hay.

“So, I’ve been absolutely horrible the rest?” You teased, peeking around the wall of the hayloft.

 “No, just what I think you were like before everything; more yourself.” He explained. “Did the hairdressers go well?”

Leaning against the wall, you crossed your arms. “I’m actually working as a translator down by the city entrance.”

He gave you a look. “How’d this come about?”

“Well,” you began. “I overheard two men arguing, one was speaking Hebrew, and I asked him what was wrong. There was a misunderstanding over peaches of all things, I helped them talk it out, and it was solved with no bloodshed. The vendor said his brother works at the gates and is always in need of translators and offered to meet with him tomorrow. It will be midday and so many people around; do not worry.”

Lucius nodded. “I’ll accompany you.”

“Did you not hear what I just said? I shall be fine.”

“I have no doubt you would.” You knew that was a lie. “One of the scythes broke today, I’ll need to buy another one in the city.”

You didn’t know if that was a lie or not, but it wouldn’t surprise you if Lucius would sneak out in the night and break equipment simply to go with you.

Sighing, you went behind the wall to your side of the hayloft. “Fine.”

To no one but Lucius’ surprise, Isidorus had not lied about his brother, nor the job offer. Of course, the brother had been off put at a woman being the translator (because everyone knows that they are the lesser sex). Still, after some convincing (you talked to a Greek family, a man from Anatolia, and two brothers from Persia), he said you could be put to work.

Lucius stood there the whole hour you had proved yourself.

“You couldn’t have gotten the scythe while I worked?” You questioned him while walking home.

He kept his gaze on the road before him, carrying the farm equipment. “It was engaging to watch.”

You hummed. “I could see how engaged you were while you stood like this.” You crossed your arms and scowled.

“I did not look like that.” He scoffed.

“You did so!” You refuted, lowering your voice. “My name is Lucius Verus Aurelius, the Last Gladiator, son of Lucilla and Maximus, grandson of Marcus Aurelius.”

He looked down, mouth upturning a little. “I do not sound like that.”

“Is that a smile?!” you gasped. “Gods above, I never thought you could unless you were attempting humor!

“Away with you, woman.”

You only laughed as the sun was starting to set.

There was something called a “Fullmoon” period in a marriage. Most now would say it’s “Honeymoon”, but the period in time where a man and woman were in a complete state of euphoria together was called “Fullmoon” because it only lasted for a month.

You and Lucius (even with your strange circumstance) were not immune to this.

A month later, when you had fully settled into a mundane life of working in different areas for hours upon hours, the only times you saw Lucius was when you ate dinner with the farmer’s family, and before going to bed.

It didn’t’ effect you that much for the first three months, as you both were still on good terms and were fine simply cohabitating without affection. This marriage was purely for protection and to honor Lucilla’s wishes.

Then…Lucius came to you one day, saying that together, you both had enough money to build a farm. He already had a patch of land picked out from the help of the famer who employed him. It was five miles away from the farm you stayed at. Five miles more of a journey to the city.

You would move in once the walls were built, which he said would only take a week or two.

It was too fast for you.

Still, you had to go along with it, because you were to be his wife; nothing more. Even so, nothing out of the ordinary besides your hidden, simmering annoyance happened between you two.

The first day construction was to be done was when light was shed upon it.

“Lucius!” You called his name as you approached him and a few other men hauling the wood and stone that would be used. It was mid-twilight when you ran to them.

He furrowed his brow, walking towards you. “Aren’t you meant to be in the city?”

Grinning from ear to ear, you shook your head. “I asked for the day off because of the house. He said I-.”

“-You need to go back and tell him you’ll work.”

Your smile fell from his usual, monotone demeanor. “He doesn’t expect me to come in today-.”

“-Then he’ll be happy to see you.”

“May I just talk for a moment?!” You yelled.

His said nothing.

Sighing, you began. “I will be useful in any capacity. If you need me to help dig for water, measure supports, lift anything-.”

“-Your shoulder cannot carry-.”

You retorted. “-It might be the shoulder you shot, but it’s the shoulder I have to live with, and I will tell you if something is too heavy to carry.”

It hadn’t been the first time you brought up your shoulder after Rome was free. Yet, in the past, it was always out of good fun; something to say to him when you didn’t want to carry as little as an egg from the chicken coop. You told the children the story too why you had to set one of them down after carrying her for so long.

You expected them to cower away from Lucius when he returned for supper, but instead, they all tackled him to the ground to defend your honor.

They didn’t hurt him of course, and you laughed until you couldn’t breathe.

Yet, at that moment, you said it with nothing but disdain; and he heard it in every word. You thought it would have been enough to guilt him into letting you help, you made sure of it.

Lucius titled his head back toward the main road. “Go on, now. The sun will be up soon, it’ll be better to walk without daylight beating down on you.”

The audacity he had. Usually, on the times you’d have disagreements of sorts, you’d try to leave with dignity; perhaps a word of sarcasm or two.

No, you simply turned on your heel and marched away in a huff.

You were harsher that day when translating, and you were still angry by the time the day ended. You ate dinner outside by yourself (until three of the seven children came outside to eat with you), and did not utter a ‘goodnight’ to Lucius before laying down to sleep.

Neither of you spoke to the other for days after that.

It was one morning, not even when the sun was out, as you tried to tiptoe around him, did he ask from his makeshift bed.

“Do you remember where the house is?”

You nearly fell off the ledge of the hayloft. “What is wrong with you?!”

“Do you remember?”

“Yes!” you whispered, afraid to wake the whole farm. “Why?”

“We made the water pump, and the walls and floors are finished. We’ll be able to sleep there now.”

“I don’t see the appeal in sleeping in a house with no roof.”

“I’ll put half of it on today. Tell your foreman too that you won’t be able to work for the next week.”

You furrowed your brow. “Why?”

“I’m teaching you how to tend to a farm.” He wrapped his blankets tighter around him and turned his back to you.

And you continued on your way; making the long trek to the city, which would only be longer when you moved to the house.

When your work was over, you walked and walked. You took a short break at the farmer’s house, making your final goodbyes to the children, and gathering what little belongings you owned.

As you tried to leave, Diana stopped you. She was leading one of the horses, a berber, behind her.

“Take her,” she handed you the reins. “you shouldn’t have to walk so far.”

You shook your head. “I simply cannot-.”

“-I insist.” She smiled. “She’s yours now. Think of it as payment for helping me with the little beasts that are my children.”

Smiling politely, it soon faded. She took notice. “What is it?”

“…I’ve only ever ridden once, and I was a child.”

She sighed yet was still kind. “Come on, my husband’s horse is at your farm. I’ll ride back with him.”

Despite your inexperience, it was actually nice riding a horse. It was perhaps the closest you could ever come to flying in your lifetime; maybe that’s why you enjoyed it. As you were nearing your soon-to-be home, you saw a familiar silhouette along with some others.

Atop the house, against the setting sun, you watched as Lucius continued to add tiles to the unfinished roof. His shirt was off, and even with night beginning to set in with the cold air, he was still breaking a sweat from the rigorous work. You would be a liar if you say that you didn’t catch yourself staring, and it was Diana who had to take the reins.

“What a fine home!” She broke you out of your trance, and when Lucius looked in your direction, you snapped your gaze away.

Lucius nodded. “All that needs to be done is the roof.” He jumped onto the ground just as you were sliding off the horse. He gave you his hand as you were, and you took it.

“Thank you.”

Atticus and the other workers went to a lone tree where their horses were tied. Atticus then approached both you and Lucius.

“Well,” he smiled. “it was lovely hosting the both of you. Please come back as often as you can; I’m sure the children will miss you.”

You all exchanged your final goodbyes, and it when everyone rode off away from you, did you realize something. This was the first time in a while you were alone with Lucius that wasn’t when going to sleep or waking up.

“Do you have a name for the horse?” Lucius asked.

Turning over your shoulder, you led the steed to the tree, petting her as you began to tie her up. “Not at the moment. She’s yours too, do you have any?”

“You’ll be with her more; you should name her.”

Humming you looked at him when you finished securing the horse. “You asked them to give her to me, didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “They asked how they could repay you for taking care of their children, I mentioned how it would be a longer journey to the city once we moved here. That’s all I did.”

…He was better at asking for forgiveness than for permission; that was another thing you learned about him. Still, you nodded your appreciation, inspecting the area around you. It was quite beautiful even with its plainness. The fields stretched on for miles, and there were no tall buildings to cover the night sky. Even the unfinished house brought a sense of happiness to you.

Something that was, at least partially, your own.

“Where will the barn and chicken coop go?” You questioned.

A hint of a smile played on his mouth, but in Lucius fashion, did his best to hide it. “You were complaining about not having a roof, and now you wonder about things for the animals?”

“Perhaps I’m more interested in farming than you are.”

“I’ll teach you.” he led you into the house. “Come on.”

 The front living space was large, and in the corner of it had an oven, so that was where the kitchen would be. Lucius showed you the two rooms as well; each having a single pillow and a blanket.

“We’ll begin planting tomorrow.” he announced. “I don’t think I’ll have to wake you up.”

“You won’t.” You nodded. “Goodnight, Lucius.”

“Goodnight.” He said your name.

You didn’t think you’d ever get over the sound of your own name from his lips.

You named the horse after your mother. Well…not the exact same name, but a similar one. It was quite a scene too when confessing to Lucius you couldn't exactly remember how to ride a horse by yourself.

He didn’t laugh at you, that was what greatly surprised you. He spent an hour teaching you, and you were able to ride her on your own.

Farming was more difficult than you thought it would be, but not so horrible either. Yes, where Lucius was patient with you for the first few days, he made a few snide comments as time passed. Nothing outright mean, but still enough to get under your skin.

Still, you managed to pick it up within the few weeks after that.

He had even let you help him finish the roof of the house; something you didn’t expect him to do. After living in the house for a month, both of you managed to buy actual beds for your rooms, among other luxuries like a few tables and chairs for the main living area, and utensils both for cooking and for eating.

The bathroom was completely bare. Having spent all the money on everything else, it would take time for the both of you to buy a bathtub. Bathing wasn’t a problem back on Atticus and Diana’s farm, but now being away from them, you would be forced to rely on the public baths in the city…

Even with some bathhouses having baths only for women, that did not stop men from forcing their way into them.

You didn’t mind being dirty for weeks on end.

The two of you fell into another pattern of life; you going into the city and spending hours translating foreign dialogue, and Lucius working on the farm for most days, sometimes accompanying you.

There was…something else strange as well.

It was always a coin toss on what weeks Lucius would speak to you or not.

Yes, he was always a man of few words, but this was different. There were some days when you asked him about his day, he would tell you what boring tasks he did. Than, on others, it was just one word: “Good.”

Never “Bad”, never “Just okay”; only “Good”. Even when you knew it wasn’t, that’s all he would say.

And you could endure it.

It had already been a little over half a year since the two of you started living together. In the eyes of Rome (as mere Plebians), you would be married once a year passed.

This was perhaps the best marriage you could ask for as a Roman woman. Still…every day that Lucius would not speak to you only brought more dread upon your shoulders.

When he stopped even looking at you, that was when you went to Diana one day.

“It’s so lovely to see you.” She smiled, setting down two cups of wine and sitting. “It’s felt like ages!”

With her youngest baby on your lap, you chuckled, taking a sip of your drink. “You honestly didn’t need to get the wine out.”

“Nonsense!” She waved her hand. “It’s a celebration just to be in your presence. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you as well.”

“How’s the farm? Lucius?”

“Well,” you took another sip, setting your cup down. “the farm has been alright. I know at least how to properly water crops and know when they’re ready to harvest or not. I help Lucius sometimes, but…he likes things his own way. He was a farmer too, I understand.”

She hummed. “And as a betrothed? I hope having your own home would help; to me, you two treated each other more like acquaintances than anything else.”

All you could do was avoid eye contact and bounce the giggling baby on your knee.

“Ah.” She sighed. “So not much has changed?”

“We both talk more than we had at your farm, but somehow, less at the same time.” You explained.

Diana reached over and held your hand, asking softly. “When was the last time you were intimate?”

As if she were a man, you tore your hand from hers. “What?”

“I do not wish anything to be forced upon you,” she stated first. “especially with what has happened to you. But…it is still important, especially to your future marriage.”

“We…we haven’t done anything in…months.” You were not going to tell her you hadn’t even seen him naked. You were not going to tell her you hadn’t done you “duty” as a woman.

She nodded. “There must be something plaguing his mind terribly.”

“I know that!” You cried. “He just won’t tell me.”

“Men do not like talking,” Diana sighed. “I have been married to Atticus for fifteen years, and even after seven children, there are parts of his past I still do not know of. What Lucius frets over is important though. You must dig your heels into the ground and let him know you are not doing anything until he tells you what he has issue with.”

The baby on your lap cooed as you held her, reaching for parts of your clothing. Diana took her from you once the baby started fussing, and you offered her a grateful smile.

“I’ll try my best with him.”

She squeezed your shoulder. “He will come to his senses. If not, then he truly hit his head too hard in the Colosseum.”

Except, you couldn’t confront him when you got home. Even though the sun was only beginning to set, when you arrived, the house was silent. You peeked into his bedroom and saw that he was already fast asleep.

With a sigh, you finished your nightly activities, and when the sun went down, you were in your own bed.

The nightmare was unlike any you had before.

Hands from all around you reached out to you. Some grabbed clumps of your hair, stuck their fingers into your mouth, caressed the most intimate parts of your body, or even tear your skin off.

You blinked and then you were in the palace, surrounded by cloaked figures. Someone forced you onto your back, and you looked up and saw Geta, raising a knife high above his head before diving it into your stomach. He carved it out before digging his hands into the opening he made and pulled out your womb.

After sitting up in bed, you had thought you awoken. When you opened your bedroom door, you were welcomed to a field of reeds, seeing nothing for miles. All but a silhouette in the distance. You could not make out it to be a man or a woman; all you knew was that you needed to run to them.

Yet, even as you dashed through the fields, calling out a name you do not even remember, your feet sank into the ground with each step.

The earth swallowed you whole before you could even reach them.

You didn’t awake with a scream; you didn’t even awake with a cry. You did awake in a sweat. Sitting up, you slowly pulled the blanket away from your body. Your stomach was unwounded, and nothing had happened.

Without knowing why, you rose from your bed and slipped on your sandals. Not even putting on a robe, you walked out of the house into the cold, night air. Numbly, you treaded through the tall grass away from the house and stopped.

The stars above you watched as you fell to your knees, and the past finally had the last laugh.

You wept for your mother (whose touch you never felt).

You wept for your father (who you had to take care of the same way he took care of you).

You wept for Marcus (the first man outside of your father to ever see you as a person).

You wept for Lucilla (the woman who saved you in more ways than one).

You wept for the innocence you lost to the twin emperors (and how you mercilessly killed them).

You wept and wept, until you felt bile claw its way up your throat and out of your mouth.

The tears did not stop even after you were finished.

Two hands grabbed your shoulders from behind, and you tried to tear yourself away with a sharp cry. You were turned around, and even though your tears blinded you, you could see that it was Lucius.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his eyes grown.

You couldn’t speak clearly, only shaking your head and saying ‘No’ over and over. Lucius led you to the water pump and sat you down by it. Cranking the handle until the water flowed freely, he cupped his hand to catch some of it before gently washing your face.

The cool water grounded you, and your sobs began to slow. Once you were only left with shallow breathing and a stuffed nose, Lucius finally sat beside you.

“What happened?” He asked again, although, returning to his normal, straight-toned self.

“Bad dream.” Was all you said.

He said nothing at first. Then, looking down at the grass beneath him, he said. “Would talking about it help you?”

It was meant to be a helpful question, but it only angered you. “You ask that now? After I run out into the night screaming?”

Lucius squinted his eyes. “Why does that bother you?”

“I know you have nightmares too.” You scoffed. “I have asked you dozens of times if you wish to talk to me about them, and you have always said no. You’ve never once asked me about mine, so how dare you expect me to tell you about it now when you cannot even share yours with me!”

“That’s not fair.” He shook his head.

You stood up, walking back to the house. “You’re right, it isn’t fair.”

He jumped to his feet. “You can’t walk away without telling me why this is troubling you.”

“You first.”

“What?”

You turned to face him. “We are to be married in less than a year, at least ‘In the eyes of Rome’ as you say, yet you do not even look at me anymore!”

His shoulders fell, and he shook his head. “I am looking at you-.”

“-I ask you how you are these days, and you lie to me every time.” You interrupted. “The few instances you allow me to work beside you, you criticize every little thing I do. I understand that I am the farthest thing you wanted for as a wife-.”

 It was that word that struck a chord. Despite saying it every so often those past few months…it was only then it occurred to you that where Lucius was your first husband…you were not his first wife.

He tore his gaze away from yours, as if he knew you had figured it out. You sighed. “Gods above…I’m sorry for what has happened to her, and I will never know the loss of a love like that…but I cannot be viewed as her replacement-.”

“-Who told you that you were?” He sharpened his tone.

You swallowed, knowing that this would all end in tears no matter what you said. “You do not tell me anything. I will never ask you to care for me the way you cared for her, but she is gone-.”

“-I couldn’t do anything after she died but weep and watch her body float into the ocean.” He hissed. “I vowed to kill the man that slaughtered her, and I didn’t. It had been perhaps just a month since her death, did I promise myself to another woman. I have dishonored her memory three times.”

“I do not know how long you need me to apologize for something I could not control, but I will if that means you will stop hating me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“You hate that I will be your wife!” Your voice was growing hoarse. “I don’t understand it at all. I will be whatever it is you wish me to be in few months’ time, because you will own me. Even if you wish me to be dead, it shall be done because what I want will not matter-.”

“-Must you make everything about yourself?!” He finally yelled. “Would it soothe you if I said I despised every part of you? That if Jupiter himself came down and offered me my old life in exchange for you, I would give you up to him?! Would it give you any peace of mind if I told you I would have rather died in the arena than live a thousand years with you?”

You had expected him to at least pause after he made his confession. To at least have the courage to look you in the eye and watch as the words sunk into your being. Yet, as soon as he finished, he stomped back to the house; and you were alone outside again.

The tears upon your face glimmered from the light in the sky above you, for all you could do was stare at the little farmhouse Lucius had built for you.

How strange that something you once saw as a sign of devotion, was now revealed to be one of complicity.

He had admitted his disdain for your future marriage. You knew that it would be loveless (you would never escape that), but you wished at least for respect. Seeing as how you were not even going to have that, you dragged your feet over to the tree where your horse was tied up.  Mounting her with nothing but the clothes on your back, you raced down the pathway.

For the first day, you had stayed at Diana and Atticus’ farm. You said nothing about Lucius, and tried to spend the most time with the children to avoid any questions.

On the second day, you finally went back to the city. Even though the man in charge of you yelled louder than Lucius had at you, it did not phase you. You merely nodded and returned to work. With what money they paid you for the day, you spent it on a room at the safest inn you could find. You had another nightmare that night. Not as horrible as the one two days prior, but awful enough for you to lay awake until the sun rose.

The third day seemed to be ordinary, until you finished your job, and you were promenading along the market. As you eyed the fruit at Isidorus’ stand, a man came to stand beside you.

“Good sir,” you heard Lucius’ voice. “do you have a wife?”

Isidorus nodded. “I do.”

“What from your stand would you give her if she was angry at you?”

He eyed you before smiling at Lucius. “My ears to listen.”

You turned, promptly walking away. Of course, Lucius followed.

“I didn’t know you confided into strangers about our qualms.”

“He’s not a stranger.” you kept trying to lose him. “And gifts will not suffice for an apology this time.”

He got in front of you, uttering your name. You stopped, sighing. “What else have you come to say to me?”

“That I am a fool.”

Although you weren’t necessarily expecting him to admit it, you only nodded. “You very much are.”

He began. “For my entire life, I was not allowed to be entirely truthful with others. Whether it was how I felt in the moment, or even my own name. I’m not used to the freedom of being candid with one another. And I have been mistreating you; I have provided a home, but I haven’t provided your wellbeing. Ari-.” Lucius paused, breathing through his nose. “Arishat and I lived on a farm, that was all I knew while being a husband. I will love her until the end of my days, but that does not give me the right to neglect you. I will…I will try with all my being to share my thoughts with you.”

You stared at him, feeling as if you would blink, and you would awaken from another dream. Yet once you did and saw that he was still in front of you, you said.

“I didn’t mean to insult your memory of her.”

He shook his head. “I believe she would hit me if she were here and saw how I treated you.”

“Thank you.” You nodded. “Truly, for everything. I…it’s not only you, I don’t know if I will ever feel like myself after…everything.”

Lucius already knew. Still, looking around himself, he then said. “Where is your horse?”

“The inn I’ve been staying at has a stable. You walked the whole way here?”

“It’s what I deserved.”

“You smell horrible.” You mustered a shy grin.

He mirrored you, looking away. “I have for a while.”

“I do as well. I was…I was going to brave the baths; would you like to join me?”

Your offer took him by surprise. Usually, a question like that would be an invitation to more salacious activities to take place. Still, what took him aback more was how you were initially so afraid of the public baths, yet there you were.

“I shall.” He agreed.

Thus, the two of you walked beside one another. There were many baths in Rome, yet it would be challenging to find one that had a separate bath for women and one for men. By the time you reached the third bathhouse, you sighed.

“This will do.”

Lucius shook his head. “I’ll ask the workers at this one if they know-.”

“-No.” You stopped him. “It’s fine. I wish to speak more with you.”

He was still hesitant, but gave in. The two of you entered and drifted off to the separate changing rooms. It was strange that the bathhouse had rooms for the different sex to disrobe, but not baths itself.

After locking your clothes away, you ventured out into the main pool. You were welcomed to an array of naked bodies. You weren’t entirely innocent of course, even before everything. You were never to see any of these people again; it was Lucius you would live with.

Quickly, you disappeared half of your body under the surface of the water and clung to the wall of the large bath. Other people around you laughed and socialized, only putting you more in the eyes of men who only came to the baths for one thing.

Yet, before you could take a moment to worry, your eyes fell to Lucius who entered. You soon averted them and felt the water shift beside you as he entered. You turned to look at him, leveling yourself with the side of the pool, essentially shoulder to shoulder with him. The hear radiating off of his body onto yours reminded you too much of that night months ago; the one where you whispered your name into his ear.

“What were you like as a boy?” You questioned in an attempt to hide how flustered you were.

He hummed. “Why do you ask?”

“If you wish to be more honest with me, than I think it should be best to stary with something minor.”

“I understand. I was spoiled growing up in the palace. Still, I wished nothing more than for adventure. All my life, the mere thought of war and battles were taught as a way to bring glory to the empire; pride for one’s family. I had gotten my foolish wish when Maximus died, and my mother sent me away from Rome.” He paused momentarily, before continuing. “I ran all across the land until I was thirteen, where I finally settled in Numidia. I had changed my named too many times to count and settled upon Hanno.”

Your attention did not waver for a moment. When he was finished you asked. “How old were you when you left?”

“Eight…” There was a sad silence between the two of you. A silence held in almost reverence for all the troubles he had been through. “What about you?”

Even with your uneasiness to answer your starkly different childhood, you did so; also have been promising to be honest with him. You spoke of your father, your past friends, the house you grew up in. He never once looked upon you with envy or hatred.

“Your father sounded like a good man.” He said.

“He was.” You nodded, feeling a weight settle in your chest. "I think he would have liked you.”

“I can only hope.”

The conversation halted after that, unknown if you should wait for him to ask a question, or for you to ask another. Both of your eyes drifted around the bath house as people filtered in and out. When your gaze fell back onto Lucius’ you watched his eyes flicker to something behind you. Before you could utter a word, he placed his hand upon your bare back, bringing his lips to the space between your ear and your jaw.

It all happened so fast you had no time to react, and your body shivered upon the feel of him being so close to you.

“There’s a man eyeing you from behind.” He whispered into your skin. “Don’t look at him, just keep looking at me. I’m sorry.”

You pulled away slightly, doing as he told. He traced circles on your back with his thumb, staring intently at you. Even as you shrunk under his eyes, they did not frighten you.

Deciding to play along, you trailed your hand up his bare arm until resting on his shoulder. You felt his skin erupt into goosebumps and he took a sharp intake of breath.

“Okay?” You asked.

He nodded. “Yes, it’s just…it’s been a while.”

Anyone with any sense knew that meant more than one thing. It had been a while since he felt anyone’s touch; nonetheless, a naked woman’s.

From behind him, you saw a small group of girls all looking at you. They all looked a little younger than you, and acted like so, giggling loudly and talking without a care in the world. It was only then that you noticed they were looking at Lucius.

“Is there someone eyeing me now?” He attempted to tease you when he noticed your gaze.

You nodded, no hint of humor behind your voice. “A good few of them.”

“Is that so?”

You removed your hand. “I wouldn’t mind, you know.”

“Wouldn’t mind what?” He pinched his eyebrows together.

“…Getting your release from a woman that isn’t me.” You were puzzled by his seeming ignorance. “You’re a man, I understand-.”

He said your name with somewhat of gasp. You didn’t listen one bit.

“No, I mean it. I will not be more selfish than I already have been, expecting you to remain celibate because I don’t think I will-.”

Lucius said your name again and you stopped. Even when you did, he said it a third time as if to know he had your attention. He continued to run his fingers up and down your back.

“I will not dishonor you-.”

“-I have been dishonored several times before, it does not matter-.”

“-Listen to me.” He said softly yet firmly. “Even if I desired someone carnally, it is not selfish of you to want my loyalty. I’m not a boy who wishes to bed anything that breathes. I don’t think I can do so with someone I do not have any deep feelings for. You are my wife, and I will not treat you less.”

He didn’t call you his ‘betrothed’. As if, the moment you accepted his apology, you were already his other half. To hear him speak with so much certainty after neither of you knowing what any day would bring…it brought an astonishing comfort you never knew you needed.

“Thank you.” You felt like your heart could beat again.

“You don’t-.”

“-No but I do. I don’t…I don’t think I could give you anything of myself if you wanted it. It’s still…I remember a lot of what Geta did to me, and I forgot it at the same time. It doesn’t happen a lot in my nightmares, but it still does. That one night you found me he…he cut out my womb and held it in his hands. I thought I woke up, but I didn’t, and I think I was in Elysian Fields, but I only saw a shadow. I don’t know what any of that means.”

Lucius let you finish all of the anxiety you had thrown onto him. Still, releasing a shallow breath, he said.

“You die in most of my dreams.” He clarified. “The bad ones, I mean. A lot of people do, but you’ve been in them the most. There are times I see both you and Arishat, or my mother, or all three of you and…those are the worst. The night I found you outside, I couldn’t…I had a horrible dream that I couldn’t even see your face, but I knew it was you when I found you hanging in the Colosseum.”

If the both of you weren’t naked and, in the bathhouse, you would have embraced him. Yet, with the most understanding look in your eyes, you brought your hand to the base of his neck, his loose curls between your fingers. You swore you felt him relax into your touch for just a moment.

“I’ve known everyone to have their own beliefs of dreams.” You whispered. “They’re meant to predict the future, they reflect the past, they are punishments, they are blessings, and they mean nothing. I wonder if it’s possible they are all of them.”

He nodded. “I don’t know what I believe in anymore.”

“I do.” Lucius unknowingly leaned into you just ever so slightly. You grinned from ear to ear, pulling your hand away from him. “I believe you need to cut your hair.”

He chortled. “I’m not spending anything on cutting it. It’s fine.”

“I’ll cut it then.”

“I would rather be stabbed.”

“Oh, quit being dramatic.” you playfully swatted him. “There’s a reason I would’ve been a better hairdresser than tailor.”

The two of you teased one another for a minute longer after that. Than, even though the conversation died, it was not in vain. There was a quiet gentleness and protectiveness as you both shared a short distance between each other while bathing. Lucius kept his eye on you more than you did him, knowing that it was always possible a man could try to take advantage of you.

When all was said and done, you got your horse from the stable at the inn, and the two of you rode back to the farm with a newfound understanding of each other.

More than a year and a half have passed since the fall of the Roman Empire and its subsequent birth of the Republic. Your strange marriage with Lucius grew into a friendship of respect and understanding. You both talked more than you had when you were first betrothed, even if your busy schedules remained the same.

The farm had improved after its first harvest, even raising enough money to build a chicken coop and house a few chickens. The house itself was more furnished, and the two of you managed to purchase a bathtub, no longer needing to use the public ones in the city.

Both of you had changed as well. Even with what minimal farm work you did, it built both your strength and stamina. Lucius had begun to grow out his facial hair; not much for it to be an actual beard, but more so just under his nose. You’d joke about it looking like a caterpillar, to which he would lightly shove you away.

After the intimate discussion the two of you shared, it was only then you both realized you still didn’t know much about each other. Most importantly, the little things that made each of you a person.

So, you’d take time to get to know one another.

You were helping Lucius pull weeds around the crops when you found out he had ripped a monkey’s throat out with his teeth during his very first gladiator fight.

You were reading a collection of poetry one night when Lucius told you that you mouth the words of whatever you’re reading if you find it most interesting.

During supper one night, Lucius ate the entirety of the plate only to then eat whatever else you hadn’t. That was when your theory was proven right; he does forget to eat sometimes.

Both of you had tried to keep the housework to an equal amount; if he cooked one night, you’d clean the kitchen and vice versa. Yet, some remained stagnant; you always cut his hair, yet he always changed the horses’ shoes.

Cutting his hair was perhaps your favorite way to speak with him.

“Remember to clean your sandals before coming in next time.” He reminded you as he sat on a tree trunk outside. “You tracked in mud.”

Standing behind him while trimming small hairs, you shook your head. “My apologies, master of the house; it was downpouring and I was freezing.”

“Serves you right, I’d say.”

You placed the tip of the shears against his neck. “What else do you have to say?”

He snickered. “That you’re an astonishing woman who I am blessed to be with."

“Wrong answer, all lies.” You pretended to stab him, only to bring the shears back to his hair.

“I’m not lying!” Lucius laughed.

You only gave him a ‘tsk’ before continuing. “Are you sleeping any better?”

He said nothing at first. Your eyes drifted down to his hands and saw him pull on his tunic; another telltale sign of his nervousness.

“I keep seeing my mother’s face.” He admitted. “Only her face, nothing else.”

“It was the third night last night, right?”

“Yes.”

You sighed. “Would you want to hear a dream I had a few days ago to make you feel better?”

“Better because it was happy, or because you think I’ll feel happy I wasn’t you?”

“The latter.”

“Tell me.”

You turned his head to the side gently, continuing your work. “I stood in front of the entire senate of Rome, and they were all laughing at me. I don’t even know what I said, they only laughed and laughed.”

“Is that not what happened to you in the waking day?”

“No, they listened…I think.” You shook our head. “It more so angers me that, in the waking life, I presented logic to them, and they still chose Macrinus who showed nothing of the sort.”

“Some men like to speak of only desiring logic yet run away with their emotions once it is presented.” Lucius stated. “What had you told them?”

“That all of Rome would continue to riot if they killed Lucilla.” You said grimly. “I still don’t understand; they had their proof of the rage Rome’s children could feel when their general was killed, the only reason the city did not fall was because Macrinus was slain. I’m done.”

You set your shears down and Lucius stood, shaking the fallen hair off his clothes. He turned to you.

“If it matters at all, I think the only reason this house hasn’t fallen is because of you.”

Grinning from ear to ear, you shoved him playfully. “Away with you, you’re just as much of the reason as I am.”

“I do all that I can.”

There were moments like this where you would not speak of childhood memories or events of your day. These moments were reserved for the days where it felt like time slowed down just to give you two the grace to speak about them in more detail.

With only a single candle between the two of you one quiet night, you told him how you have to walk a different path in the city sometimes simply to avoid brothels; hating the sounds you would hear from inside, the stench of cheap perfume and sweating bodies burning your nose, the men who would brag to their friends about the women they had.

At breakfast one day, before the sun had even rose, Lucius told you about a time when he was ten, still on the run. He had gone into a man’s house with the promise of food, only to then be hit the head with something so heavy, he was knocked out. He had awoken in a dark room, but managed to find a curtained window, and escaped. He never knew what would have happened to him if he had woken up just a minute later.

There was tenderness you shared with him that you had never shared with anyone in your life.

That was only more apparent on one fateful day.

The first bad omen for the day that morning was when you had run out of sugar for breakfast. The second was when your horse was extra stubborn as you rode her into the city; it was so out of the ordinary, you wondered if you did something to make her hate you.

Still, everything was fine once you went to work. At least it was for the first half of the day.

There were aggressive people from across the land coming into the city you certainly had to deal with, but the worst was when a man twice your size bluffed you with a slap. Even so, the other men you worked with had yelled and sent him away.

That day though…there was a woman with a look in her eyes.

You thought you had seen pure rage when you had been with Geta. Yet, that day was a lesson to you; wrath had many faces.

She mumbled in Greek, but you did not know what she said at first. Then, she attempted to speak Latin. You politely told her you could speak Greek, and so with exhaustion, she told you that she was going to visit her mother.

When asked for her mother’s name, she didn’t say it. After asking again, she became enraged, yelling at you that she should just be able to be let in. When you resisted, she grabbed your bad arm, yanking it to pull you closer to her.

The pain shot through your shoulder like a bolt of lightning, and you cried out. She tugged on your hair as the men beside you tried to pry her away from you. Luckily, she didn’t manage to yank any of it out once the men forced her away from you. Tears fell freely over your face as you cradled yourself, unable to stop the sobs from leaving your lips.

They let you leave early yet paid you as if you were there the whole day.

The ride back to the farm wasn’t any better, but at least your steed took notice of your heartache and was more merciful to you. When you made it home, you slowed her down when you saw Lucius limping towards the house.

You both stopped where you were, staring at one another as if you weren’t supposed to be seeing the other.

“Why are you back so early?” He asked first.

“Why are you dragging your foot?” You asked second.

Lucius took a deep breath, and you saw tears in his eyes. “I fell.”

The only time you had seen him cry was when burying Lucilla; it wouldn’t be from simply falling. You slowly pulled yourself off your horse but did so quick enough before he could rush to help you. You wished nothing more than to pull him into the warmth of the house, to sit him down and tend to his wound to distract you from your own.

Yet, the moment you took his hand, he began to weep.

“Oh Lucius.” You whispered, bringing your hand up to cradle his face. He wrapped both of his arms around you, bringing you onto the ground with him. You yelped a little when he squeezed your bad shoulder too tight, and he pulled away.

“What happened?” He asked.

You shook your head. “You need-.”

“-What happened?!”

Knowing he wouldn’t stop asking, you told him. “Someone at the gate attacked me. Pulled on my bad arm, my hair…it wasn’t as bad as you’d think-.”

“-Where is he?” He lowered his tone and his demeanor.

Your jaw dropped into a surprised huff. “She is long gone by now, and even if she wasn’t then as my husband, you should stay with me instead of wandering the streets of Rome hoping to find someone to be your anger’s victim!”

Though he still wore that rage upon his face, it soon fell once he saw your own tears fall from your eyes like dewdrops on flowers. Lucius laid himself flat on the dirt, and you sat above him.

“I have been married to you longer than I had been to Arishat.” He confessed. “I knew her for longer, but-but not as deeply; no, I-I knew her more than…I don’t…It’s been long since her death, yet there are moments I think of her, and I cannot stop crying.”

You never knew this was in his heart. You knew to never speak of Arishat, only listen whenever he would bring her up (even so, it was once in a blue moon).

“I’m sorry.” He sniffled, trying to pull himself together. “I know she is gone, and I shouldn’t be-.”

“-You shouldn’t what?” You interrupted. “Remember her? You think I wish for you to forget the woman you so loved?”

He shook his head. “No, but it’s selfish of me to-.”

You were the one to make him lose his words this time. With both hesitation certainty, you placed his head into your lap. It was too late for you to stop once you did, and you felt your own body tense. Then, upon taking a look at his body battered from rigorous work, and another at his face, which relaxed with his eyes fully shut, you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Lucius,” you sighed. “never will I think you are a horrible man for mourning her. You missing her shows just how much you adored her, and how she was a treasure to you. In another life, above all, I wish I could have met her. You are not in the wrong for wanting to see her again. I know you do not love me-.”

“-I do love you.” He opened his eyes upon saying it.

Your heart felt as if it was going to beat itself out of your chest and run away when he said those four words. To preserve your sanity, you took it a different way and smiled sadly.

“Not in the way you loved her.” You said softly. “But what else more can I ask for in a husband than one who treats me with a gentleness I did not know was possible? One who has been there to protect me even before we were married?”

Lucius took a deep breath, rubbing his face to clear away his tears. “You’re too good to me.”

“Gods above,” you groaned tiredly. “we can go back and forth on who deserves each other. Let us just go back into the house, have supper, and sleep.”

“I would like that.” He hissed as he went to stand.

Helping him, once he was on his best foot, you said. “You never told me what you did to your leg.”

He looked behind him at the field. “There was a snake and a rock.”

You gave him a look. “And what happened with them?”

“I don’t wish to speak of it.” He said grimly.

In any other instance, you would have laughed. Yet, as his eyes were still heavy from crying, you just nodded. The both of you helped each other into the house, and you sat him down on one of the several cushions in the living area.

“Your arm,” he asked. “how bad is it?”

You shook your head. “Just really sore. I think she might have left a nasty bruise or two somewhere, but I won’t know yet.”

“Put one of the cloths in the pot with water and put it over the fire.” He told. “Take it out after a few minutes, let it rest for another, then put it on your shoulder. It should help.”

“Thank you.” You stood, doing so, saying. “I swore we had bandages somewhere. I’ll make something for you to drink too; I bought some herbs just last week.”

He nodded, not taking his eyes off of you as you worked. If it were any other man, you would have felt unsafe; yet, it was only Lucius.

Little by little that night, both of you helped heal one another.

Half a year passed since that night, and you and Lucius had only grown closer. Perhaps as close as you could be with a man who was not your husband by choice.

Not much on the farm had changed; you two were living comfortably, and happily, almost making all the turmoil from the first year worth it. The both of you decided to make more visits to Atticus and Diana’s home, realizing just how much you both missed having someone to talk to outside of each other; but that did not mean you had to keep things hidden of course.

If anything, you shared everything with each other.

So much so, that when Lucius asked you why you held onto him longer when he embraced you on your birthday, you told him the truth.

“I don’t want every time we touch to be when it is in turmoil.” You explained, growing meeker. “And I…I’ve missed the feeling of it when it has not been forced upon me.”

Lucius stared at you with a look you had never seen from him. He had been gentle with you many a times, but they way his eyes fell into yours…

He took a step closer to you, and when you showed no sign of discomfort, he took your face into his hands. Your eyes shut at the feeling of him, and he pressed his head against yours. Never in your life had someone’s breath upon your skin feel so immaculate.

From there on out, it always seemed like you had to have a hand on each other one way or another.

It started with holding hands whenever walking through the city together. He used to ‘lead’ you through the crowds in the past, but more so with a hand hovering over your back. No, him holding your hand meant he would have to go where you would go if anything were to happen.

Alongside this, he’d reach over and hold it at Atticus and Diana’s house; whether it was during dinner, or simply just talking. The eldest child had said what the rest of the household had been thinking.

“They’re finally acting like they’re married!”

Because even when there were no other eyes besides yours, he would still hold your hand. You wonder if it ever became a way for Lucius to ground himself; because it certainly did for you.

You hugged him more often as well. Those used to be for ‘substantial’ occasions; those being celebrations or heartbreaks. Now, they were incorporated into greetings and goodbyes. Of course, it only took a few weeks before they were than made into simple desires.

He would be cooking dinner, and you would come beside him to embrace him. You would be gathering eggs from the chickens, and he would wait for you to set the basket down before tossing his arms around you.

At night, it was normal for you both to trade spots as one of you would read a story, and the other would have their head in the other’s lap.

This happened on so many occasions, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise for what Lucius proposed next, but it did.

“If you don’t favor the question I’m about to ask you, then you are allowed to never speak to me again.” He said, his feet hanging off the arm of the lecti couch you both bought that year.

“Well,” you scoffed, sitting on the end of it. “I will have to speak to you again because we live together.”

“Would you want to sleep in my room tonight?” Never in your life had you thought that would have been his question. When you didn’t speak right away, he backtracked. “I don’t expect you to. I understand if-.”

“-The nights are growing colder.” You stated, no visible uneasiness. “I’ve noticed it, and I don’t think any number of blankets could warm me.”

He swallowed thickly, and this was perhaps one of the first times you’d ever seen him like this. “Yes…it’s cold.”

You nodded, and another beat of silence fell between you two. Standing up, you tugged at the seams of your dress. “I-I’ll go change.”

“Yes,” he sat up. “I shall as well.”

Disappearing into your room, you tossed your day clothes off then slipped on a nightdress. After pacing around the floor for a few moments, you gathered the courage to go out into the hall and knock on Lucius’ door.

It was opened as if he was standing right behind it.

He wore just a plain, tattered tunic, and said nothing; yet, you caught his eyes run down you before immediately bringing them back to your face. You were not even in his room yet, and already your body grew warmer.

“May I come in?” You asked.

“Yes, of course.” He stepped aside and you entered.

Somehow, you were no longer man and wife; you were two people who had just discovered a strange, yet burning, feeling that you both held for one another. A feeling that you were both afraid to say aloud…because then it would be real.

The only light in his room was from the moon just peeking through the curtain of his one window. Looking around, you saw that it was still just the bare minimum; a bed, a small table beside it with a lamp, and a dresser. The only others things of note were his sword leaning against the wall, and just a few dirty clothes on the floor.

“I-I tried to clean before you came.” He mentioned.

“Is the rest under the bed?” You asked.

He chuckled. “Yes.”

Before you could change your mind, you pulled the covers off one side of the bed and slid under them. Glancing behind at Lucius, you saw him wear a look where you knew he wanted to say something.

“What is it?” You asked.

“That’s usually the side I sleep on but-.”

You rolled over to the other side. “Are you content now?”

He wheezed, moving to his designated side, slipping under the covers. “Very.”

“Good.” You smiled up at him.

His own mouth lowered as you could see him thinking. He then said. “I don’t expect us to do anything.”

You watched as his eyes dropped from you, as if it was too invasive just to merely look. Thinking from only your heart, you scooted closer, resting your hand on his arm. You ran your fingers up and down his muscles, but then guided his arm to wrap around your waist.

“Okay?”

He hummed, pulling you just a little closer. “Yes.”

“And we’ll just lay together?” You whispered. “Nothing else?”

“Nothing else.”

And that’s what you did. The compete truth was that you would caress him only to remind yourself that it was Lucius and not Geta. His arms, his back, his face…he was nothing like him.

After a few more nights, you told him that as you both lay awake, unable to sleep. He had pulled you on top of him that night, saying that you could see his face better in the moonlight. You only giggled, hiding your face in his chest; even that was too much for you.

It was easier to tell each other things in the darkness. You always knew that, but with being in the same bed (you had not gone back to your room for a week), the words flowed out of both your mouths.

“After my father died,” you said one night as you laid on your side facing him. “I would stroke my own hair or even my arms and pretend they were someone else’s. Even when I was with Geta.”

Lucius stared at you, then immediately began to caress your cheek. You shut your eyes, sighing at the feeling.

“I never thought I’d be able to sleep next to another woman again.” He whispered.

“And now?” You looked into his eyes.

He stopped his movements, but did not remove his hand. You watched every part of him. How his chest heaved shallowly, his arms tensing ever so slightly, but his eyes…gods his eyes. They were heavy as they looked at you; a look that made your heart flutter and not shutter.

Swallowing your fear, you sat up and inched closer to him. Your face hovered above his, and your breath heated his skin. His hand continued to trace shapes about your cheek, and shutting your eyes, you placed your lips upon his.

It was the gentlest kiss you ever shared with a man.

You had pulled away, dreading to see how he felt. When your eyes befell his gentle smile, and his other hand came up to cup your face, you kissed him again.

And again, and again, and again.

You climbed upon his lap without pulling your lips away from him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He sat up, his own arm encircling your waist and drawing you impossibly closer.

Lucius parted from you, and as you whined at the loss of his lips, they soon settled upon your cheek, and then your jaw, and then your chin. Your heavy pants turned to soft grunts as he kissed down your neck, his mustache scratching your skin in just the right way.

Your hands settled into his hair the lower he traveled, moving your night gown off your shoulder to kiss your collarbone. You felt yourself becoming intoxicated from him, and only then noticed you had been for a while.

Oh, how you wished you could bottle up his laugh, his strength, his stubbornness, and get drunk every night. His kisses only added fuel to the fire that was your desire for him.

He sunk his teeth into your skin, and your body, once enflamed, ran cold.

“No!” You tore yourself from his lap, nearly falling off the bed.

Lucius said your name, leaning forward on instinct but soon stopped once he saw you crawl away. “I’m sorry.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. All you knew was that you needed to go, so you did. Cradling yourself in your arms, you got up from his bed, rushing out of his room and into yours.

You half expected him to knock on the door, then, when you wouldn’t answer, him yell and curse you before breaking it down. Yet nothing of the sort happened. You heard his own door open, and you saw his shadow on the other side, but he did not touch your door. He left after a moment of waiting.

When his own door shut, did you finally cry.

You told yourself that night, you would wake up far earlier than Lucius would so you simply wouldn’t have to see him.

When you awoke, you did the exact opposite. You laid in your bed, trying to return to sleep, only to be forced to lie in the dark. The sun rose into your room, and you heard Lucius’ door open. Still, you did not get up.

It was quite comedic, actually. With your door still shut, he knew you were still home. How he tried his best to keep quiet for you, yet his footsteps had always been heavy, the front door had always creaked, and you could always hear him cursing under his breath every time.

When you knew he had left the house, that was when you stood from your bed, slipping on your sandals. You didn’t bother changing out of your nightdress, leaving your room, and then the house.

Lucius was amongst the chickens when he saw you. He didn’t bother hiding the surprise upon his face at the sight of you. You walked to him until there was little space between you.

“Last night-.”

You took his hand from his side, placing it upon your face. He rubbed your cheek with his thumb as if it was natural. Kissing the palm of his hand, you trailed it down to your clothed breast. He breathed your name with hesitance, but you shushed him. You held his hand there, not taking your eyes off him.

“I will show you, one day.” You told him. “I will show you the mark Geta had made. The one where I myself can scarcely see it, yet I know that it haunts me. But now…” You brought your other hand up to his face, tracing your thumb over his lip. “I just want you to understand.”

He kissed the pad of your thumb, nodding. You embraced him, and he held you with both gentleness and ferocity. The rest of the day carried on as normal, yet you aided him with the chores on the farm.

You went to bed with him that night, but it was the first time he did not entrap you in his arms. You knew he was still afraid of hurting you, but you would be a liar if you said you weren’t thankful for the space.

Still, he would feel your touch every day; whether it was something as small as brushing his hand, or as substantial as kissing his cheek.

As the both of you lay awake one night, you played with the sleeve of his tunic.

“Could I lie on top of you?” You asked.

Lucius looked over at you, nodding. “You never need to ask.”

“I want to.” You climbed on top of him, straddling his lap. “I never want to force you to do anything.”

His eyes fell to your hips before returning them to your face. “I’ll tell you if I wish to not do something. I hope you know you can as well.”

“I do. Would you like to touch me?”

“Where do you want me to touch you?”

You moved his hands to your hips, which he held firmly, yet not enough to hurt you. You leaned down so your lips touched his.

“No teeth.” You said.

“No teeth.” He repeated.

Lucius sighed into your mouth as you kissed. Despite how you were on top of him, the kiss was sweet, shy even. When you pulled away, you trailed your lips from his cheek to his ear.

“Do you dream about me?” You rasped.

He said nothing, and you continued to kiss every part of his face besides his lips.

“It’s okay.” You kissed his Adam’s Apple. “I want you too.”

“Yes.” His breath hitched.

“What was I doing in your favorite one?” You kissed his pulse point.

“You,” he breathed sharply through his nose. “you’re touching yourself.”

“Would that please you?” You sat up in somewhat surprise, resting your hands on his chest. “To watch me do so?”

He shook his head. “I want to do what pleases you.”

It felt foreign to hear someone say they want you to feel good. Instead of cowering from it, you faced it head on. You kneeled for a moment, hiking your gown up to your hips before sitting back on your ankles,  exposing yourself to him. Lucius’ jaw clenched at the sight of your naked center, and he drew his hands away from your hips, falling them into fists upon the mattress.

“I wish to watch you as you watch me.”

Without looking away from you, he drew his hand down to his cock, pulling it out from under his tunic. Your eyes grew just a hint. There was no doubt upon him being more well-endowed than others, but it was still different from how you imagined.

Shutting your eyes, you trailed your fingers over your cunt, your thumb playing with your clit. The sounds of Lucius’ smothered grunts, and the skin of his cock on his fingers only added to your pleasure. Digging deeper and moving faster, you felt a coil within your stomach tighten when you opened your eyes and saw as Lucius’ gaze bore into yours.

Light moans escaped your lips as your hips moved with a mind of their own, watching the man beneath you take pleasure from his own hand. It was him chanting your name like a prayer that sent you over the edge. With your eyes shut, the coil within you snapped, and pleasure filled your veins.

Not long after, you felt a warmth coat your nightdress. Opening your eyes, you looked down and saw the white-hot residue of Lucius’ release. Your gaze drew to his cock, still clutched in his hand, yet red with droplets of white running over his knuckles.

You don’t know what possessed you to, but you lowered your mouth down to clean him with your tongue.

“Gods be good!” He huffed, laughing your name.

“What?” You wiped your mouth.

 “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Grinning like the devil, you slid off the bed, walking towards the door. “I hope it’s a pleasant one then.”

He sat up. “Where are you going?”

“To change. You dirtied me as well.” You teased.

“Take one of my tunics from the dresser.”

It almost made you laugh that he didn’t want you to leave for even a second. You opened the top drawer, grabbing the longest tunic you could find before facing him. “Close your eyes.”

He laid on his side, putting a pillow over his head. Many would find it strange how the both of you would see the most intimate parts of yourself while doing one of the most intimate acts together, yet you didn’t want him to see you naked.

But Lucius never thought of it as strange. He knew what you had been through, and never once judged you.

When you were clothed, you slid into bed, wrapping your arms around his body and pressing a quick kiss to the back of his neck.

“You’re a good man, Lucius Verus Aurelius.” You whispered. “I will tell you that until the day you die, or when you finally believe me.”

He squeezed your hand, relaxing into your touch. You never slept so peacefully until that night.

You always had to see him whenever he would touch you so intimately. There would be nights where there was only a single candle in the room either while he caressed the swell of your breasts, or the inside of your thigh as you sat on his lap.

His fingers were too much for you at first, but he never ridiculed you. When you whimpered at the feeling, he retracted them, kissing your eyes. You asked him again to try, and he whispered praises into your hair as the pain from a dry spell soon turned into pleasure.

It was usually at night did these moments of exploration occurred. In the day, the most you would ever do was kiss. That is, until the first time you cut his hair since the discovery of feelings.

“I don’t want to get hair on your floor.” Lucius said as he sat on the floor, leaning his back against the foot of your bed. It was hotter than sin that day. He wore nothing but a loincloth, but that barely did anything to help him from the heat. You wore essentially a thin shift that would usually be under your dress; yet again, because of the heat, that was all you wore.

You sat on the bed, legs draped over his shoulders as you cut his hair. “It’s your floor too. You built the house.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I haven’t slept here for a while now. Besides, I will clean up.”

“I had no idea you favored doing domestic work now.” He turned and pressed a kiss to your knee.

You slapped the back of his head. “Don’t move! I’ll give you a bald spot if you do so again.”

“Yes, my mistress of the house.” He joked.

“You’re horrible.”

“You just told me I was a good man not so long ago.”

“And I can just as easily revoke that title.”

He stayed silent the rest of the time, but not from any underlining anger. Simply from his at ease posture, you knew he was smiling.

He smiled more those days.

When you were finished, you tossed your scissors aside, but Lucius’ hands settled upon your thighs, not allowing you to get up. You scoffed.

“What is it?”

He turned to face you, kneeling up to meet you. “I wish to try something, but only if you wish it as well.”

You rose your brow, but smiled, kissing his nose. “It will be difficult if I do not know what it is.”

Without drawing his eyes away from yours, he slid his hands up your thighs, bringing the bottom of your shift with it. It seemed normal at first, but once he lowered his mouth, your chest tightened.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“I want to kiss you there.” His breath caressed your cunt and you mewled at the feeling. “I think you’ll enjoy it, but we don’t have to.”

Your heart changed from beating in fear, to then in anticipation. You loved how he kissed your lips, and every inch of your skin that was not covered, what would it feel like to have his lips there?

Kissing the top of his head, you laid on your elbows, nodding.

“Let me hear you say it.” He nosed the inside of your thigh.

“Yes.” You sighed. “Please.”

He lowered his mouth back down, pressing the lightest of kissed onto your center. You groaned through shut lips, only for them to part open as the hairs of his mustache tickled you whilst he began to lap at your wetness.

Tossing your head back, you sat up, running your hands through his hair, unconsciously rolling your hips to meet his mouth. His groan reverberated through your body, only adding to the pleasure you were feeling.

“Lucius, Lucius,” you babbled his name until it didn’t sound like a word.

His nose bumped against your aching clit the same time his tongue penetrated your cunt. You yelped as that familiar, tightening feeling swept over you. His half-lidded eyes would stare up at you every once in a while, as he would continue to drink from you as if he had been stranded in the desert. Just as you were on the brink of release, you drew him away from you.

“What-what is it?” He huffed. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, pressing your lips to his before scooting further up the bed. With one last breath, you pulled your shift over your head, revealing your bare body to him. His gaze ran over your figure unashamedly.

“Come here.” You beckoned.

He crawled onto the bed and over your body, yet still looked at your face. You took his hand and laid it over your breast. His body ran cold at what was on the side of it. A bite mark.

“He branded me all those years ago.” You confessed. “And it has not left since.”

Geta…

You ran your hand up his chest. “I love you, and I trust you with every part of my body. I need you to know that.”

“I love you.” He echoed, pressing the tenderest of kisses to the mark and you gasped lightly. “I have for so long now; I…I need you.”

“Then have me.”

He sat back on his knees, unwrapping his loin cloth and tossing it to the floor. Precum leaked from his sweltering cock as it stood upright like a pillar. You crawled over, kissing every inch of his face and climbing into his lap. He drew his arms around your waist, his finger tracing circles into the small of your back.

“I don’t know how long I will last.” He puffed heavily. “It’s been so long.”

“I just want you inside of me.” You kissed his jaw, taking his cock into your hand and sinking down onto it. It had been a while for you too, and while you were soaked, it was not enough to completely subside the tightness. “Just…wait.”

“I could die happy if all you wanted was for me to remain still as you’re above me.” He said into your ear.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, sinking your nails into his skin because that was the only way to remind you that he was still there. The further you sunk down on him, the easier and more pleasureful you felt.

“I’m going to move now.” You said into his shoulder, and you did.

Slowly, at first you relished in the quiet slapping of skin and the breath moans leaving both you and Lucius’ lips. He trailed a syrupy line of kisses down your throat until he bowed his head to place them upon your chest.

“Your name,” Lucius said into your skin. “tell me your name.”

You gave him a look as you rolled your hips into his, yet sighed your name.

“Again.” He breathed, latching his lips around the tip of your breast.

You did.

“Again.” He kissed the hollow of your throat.

You leaned into his touch, saying your name a third time.

He repeated your given name, than following it with ‘Aurelias’. Your movements stilled, yet he did not care.

“You are the most cunning woman I have met, and you are my wife.” He stated, never looking away from you. Tears sprang to your eyes when you saw the same for him, and you gave him a messy kiss before resuming faster this time.

After months of being called a name that did not belong to you, especially whenever in the bedroom, Lucius was doing everything to remind you that you were yourself again as you felt pleasure.

It felt as if, after two years, ‘Julia’ was finally gone.

You chanted his name as if it was your favorite prayer, burying your hands in his hair and kissing his lips.

“Lucius, Lucius, Lucius…”

Because, just like you, how long had it been since his true name was uttered whilst in the throes of pleasure?

He moaned into your mouth, holding onto you tighter. You squealed when he rose up onto his knees, latching your legs around his waist and only crying out sharply when your throbbing clit ran across his pubic hair.

“Come on, come on,” he urged into your ear. “I know you can give it to me.”

“Lu-Lu-!” You moaned, running your nails over the thick field of muscles that was his back.

He said your name over and over again, until it was one word that was the end of you.

“Please.”

You came with your vision blinded from the state of euphoria you had reached. Lucius still held you above him even as his legs began to quake, bouncing you on his cock. You felt as though you were suspended in air when his groans stammered, and you felt strings of his cum paint the walls of your cunt.

Slowly, he lowered the two of you onto the mattress, laying you on your back like you were the most precious treasure in the world. You kept your legs around his waist, breathing with him with your chests glued together from your sweat.

“Lucius-.” You began, trying to shift under him.

“-Just,” he grunted. “just another moment. Please.”

How could you deny him? Every kiss he gave was loving as he laid upon you. His cock had grown soft, and even you were aware that you could’ve fallen asleep if you weren’t careful.

When he pulled away from you, you let out an involuntary whine.

“I thought you wanted me to get off you?” He kissed your stomach when he stood up.

You shoved him playfully. “Just clean me up and come back.”

“So controlling.”

Still, he did what you asked, bringing a soaked washcloth from the bathroom and cleaning you. You groaned out of both the cold water hitting your hot skin, and the heat from the air itself.

“We should’ve waited until night.” You whined.

“Why?”

“I’m suffocating from the air outside!”

Lucius hummed, tossing the washcloth aside and looming over you. “Then that forces us to wear nothing today, so that we might cool down.”

You nodded. “Perhaps you aren’t as feeble minded as I thought.”

He settled behind you, tossing an arm over your waist and pulling your back to his chest. Even though his cock pressed against you, the two of you were completely exhausted from the heat of the day’s work, and the heat of what took place only moments before.

The only sound was that of the cicadas singing in the summertime. Sometimes, a breeze or two of wind would bounce the curtain off the window, but for the most part, just the even breathing you shared with Lucius was all you could hear.

Lucius’ mustache rubbed your skin when he placed a kiss to your neck. “What’s going on inside of your mind right now?”

You grinned. “A proper wife would say that I was thinking of you.”

“But that’s not what it is.”

“It’s something that has nothing to do with anything of note.”

He squeezed you. “Spit it out, woman.”

Sighing, you felt a sense of dread in your heart; both for your thoughts, and also how your husband would react. So, you tried your best to explain it.

“Do you even wonder how you will be remembered?” You began. “Spoken from mouths? Written in books? Painted on walls? They’ll remember Lucius, the Lost Son, the Last Gladiator…What will they remember of me, if anything? Rome’s Cleopatra? Her Delight? A whore to the twin emperors? I like to fantasize that they will name me the first woman who sat upon the emperor’s throne, even if it was as the last of its consul. Yet, even if they name me…I will be Julia. The name of a slave, the name I only accepted when he would press me into the bed so roughly. I only survived because I would need to tell myself that he was doing all of it to Julia, not to me.”

It felt quieter in that room, even though the sounds outside did not cease. Lucius gently turned your body towards him, and he stroked your face with the back of his hand.

“You’re crying,” he uttered your name, frowning.

You wiped your eyes, wanting to hide from him. Yet, he did not allow it, pulling your hands away from you and wrapping them around his shoulders.

“Would you wish I remain silent, or share with you what is in my head?” He asked.

“Talk to me.” You answered.

“I never cared of what history would see of me.” He stated. “Even as a boy. I know that we are different in most aspects of life, but I believe it serves no one to wonder away how we will be viewed long after we are dead. I do not care if or what a stranger thinks of me in a lifetime later. I care how Atticus and Diana see me. I care what their children think. Above all, I care of what you see me to be.”

You pressed your head against his. “You’re pigheaded and quite foolish sometimes.”

“And it matters you say that.” He pulled you closer. “Because that is what you will tell others when I pass on.”

“You know I don’t think that is all you are.” You remined him.

“I do.” He nodded. “I will know you for your wit, and your protective nature, and your kindness.”

“I never truly thought of myself as kind.” You gave a pained smile.

“That is how I see you.” He kissed your brow. “And what I will say with my last dying breath.”

You wondered how such a man as himself could exist at the same time you did. A man who hated you prior to everything yet laid with you in bed. A man who treated you with a tenderness you never thought possible.

A man who could be the last person on earth with you, and you would only feel at peace.

You did not need to say anything to him. Simply by the innocent smile that spread across your lips, did he know. You fell into the most comfortable of silences together as you laid naked in the summer heat.

The both of you were lost to time as we all shall be one day.

Perhaps you lived on that farm for the rest of your days, or perhaps you moved to a different land.

Perhaps you had ten children, perhaps you had only one, or perhaps you had none and were content with each other’s company.

Perhaps you died before him, perhaps he died before you, or perhaps you both passed onto the Elysian fields together.

All that truly matters, at the end of all things, is the life the two of you led together, and what you and loved ones remembered the most of it.

[kireilien]

i love how you use "yumtastic" lol that's me with yeonjun............... spare some yumtastic thoughts about yeonjun pls ily

HELP idk where i got that from to start saying it but yes ofc yumtastic thoughts on yeonjun coming up! fresh and piping hot! THIS TURNED OUT TO BE SO LONG NEARLY A THOUSAND WORDS HOLY FUCK SOMETHING ABOUT MESSY YEONJUN

tw/cw. nsfw content, cursing; dom!yeonjun, sub!reader, fem!reader, friends2lovers, sex fiend!yeonjun, lwk mean!yeonjun, pussy drunk yeonjun, oral (f receiving), cunnilingus, ass eating, anilingus, fingering, ass play, squirting, overstimulation, humiliation, use of “babe,” “slut” 

also was listening to this on repeat as i wrote god he’s so weird but this song is so good

CHOI YEONJUN IS A FUCKING FREAK! and i stand by that!

i can literally imagine you ranting about how no man has made you cum, and what’s worse no man has eaten you out or fingered you. it’s just dick in pussy, dick cums, then done! “i just don’t get it, yeonjun! do i not deserve to like– cum or something?!” 

“you deserve to cum, y/n. i don’t know why those men are like that,” yeonjun huffs (he’s trying to get in your pants, he can make you cum each time you haven’t and more bc how many times people have said he’s the best they’ve had). 

you gave a large gutteral groan, “i’m so sexually frustrated, i don’t know what to do.” you lay on your side on yeonjun’s couch, where are you gonna get some good sex?! 

“i can make you cum.” 

were you really gonna take up your friend’s statement that was a borderline offer to make you cum after you just said you’re sexually frustrated?

yeah. 

and here you are, shorts and panties thrown to the side, legs over yeonjun wide shoulders, fingers tangled in his hair, with his mouth practically making out with your cunt. his arms are under your legs, kneeling in front of his couch, nose diving in, he’s slobbering all over your pussy, his tongue is swirling all over your clit and hole, his tongue is laying flat against your entire pussy, staring you down with those low eyes. 

he’s drunk. 

he’s pussy drunk. 

he’s your pussy drunk.

one orgasm down. two down. three down. he’s taking the drunk thing seriously, he’s eating you out as if he’s taking shots. down one, down another. but he’s not drunk enough. he needs more of you. he needs to make you cum in ways no one has ever had, “can i– eat your– ass–?” he pants through kisses on your cunt. you nearly make him stop by the way you jerked up, “yes– fuck– do what ever you want–.” you couldn’t say no to whatever yeonjun asked, he was making you cum a million times over, and that’s what you wanted.

saying yeonjun was ecstatic is an understatement. he was too ready for this. 

he immediately lifted your ass so more of your back was on the seat of the sofa and it was over from there. he used his messy spit and your wetness to drag all the way down your asshole, sucking and licking to his heart’s content.

oh he was in heaven.

the small flicks, the mouthing of your ass, your wetness trailing down to your asshole, allowing yeonjun to lap at your ass more. it’s safe to say he secured another orgasm from you by eating your ass out. 

“holy– shit– yeonjun– that was so good– i can’t believe you could make me cum like that,” you croak out, your head was too dizzy from your last four orgasms he gave you. you couldn’t think straight.

“who said i was done?” yeonjun spat. 

he wasn’t done?!

yeonjun slides his hands down your cunt, shoving his fingers deep inside of you, curling them in the process to make sure he has that special spot of yours.

you gasp from the sudden pressure in your abdomen, “yeon– jun– i can’t cum– anymore– t’ much–!” yeonjun comes down and kisses your temple, “babe, you can cum one more time for me, right? your slutty pussy and ass are still drenched from my mouth alone, you can cum another time. yeah you can,” he murmurs in your ear. 

he’s right by your face, he’s able to watch your eyes and his fingers going to town on your cunt. he’s absolutely delighted with how your eyes are rolling, your jaw is slack, and a little dribble of drool is rolling out.

he has you down. so down that he sneakily slides his pinky down your slit, all the way where your ass is, delicately rimming the sensitive hole. “wait– yeonjun–!” 

too late! 

your body gave into his pinky pressing into your tight asshole, oh god, this was insane. you could feel his fingers slicing you open from both holes. “aww look at you, babe! you look like slut with your head hanging back from my fingers fingering both of your stupid holes, geez! i knew you wanted to cum real bad, but you’re making a mess on my couch!” he laughs in your ear. he has you wrapped on his finger, you’re only gonna come back to him and only him when you need to cum.

in the next few pumps of his fingers, you feel your orgasm coming, but this time unlike the other times, it feels like a sudden rush. it wasn’t just an orgasm, you’re like leaking on yeonjun’s fingers. 

you were gonna squirt. 

“oh fuck babe, are you gonna squirt? oh my fucking god yes, squirt on my fingers, c’mon, c’mon, squirt on them, slut.” yeonjun practically taunts you. he wants you to be messy. as yeonjun continues fingering you and continues his taunts, you feel yourself let go of the rush you felt. and yeonjun was right. he keeps his hands steady by making you ride out your orgasm, enjoying your messy liquids leak out, all over his fingers, his couch, and his floors.  

after you completely release all of your fluids, yeonjun gets up, “stay here, i’ll get a towel. fuck that was hot. that was so fucking hot, babe.”

UHEFBGIUFWCUBOGACDUHOC SQUIRTING CONTEST WHOEVER SQUIRTS THE MOST GETS A PRIZE THE PRIZE IS YEONJUN!

back 2 my catalog

[dakotalun]

hi!! I just read both parts to your series ‘You Belong With Me’ and holy shit it’s so good!! I wanted to ask if I could request something maybe?? :)

i was thinkin something where Eddie and a super shy girl are dating. They’re only like three weeks into dating but they love each other so much. Reader’s parents fight a lot (maybe Eddie knows), and she randomly shows up on his trailer doorstep crying one day cause of it…sm fluff plz😭🙏

omg I love this prompt! I wrote this in one day because I simply couldn't stop thinking about it!!

Words: 2.2k

Eddie is the best thing to happen this year. I never thought that I would be dating the town “freak” but here I am. The only thing is that he’s not a freak, well in the ways everyone describes him as he’s not. He’s got a very sweet and loving side to him that if you just gave it time he would show.

It became apparent how much of a caring side he has when I told him about my parents.

“They hate each other! I never understood why the hell they got married in the first place. I mean if two people hate each other so much why be together?” I was ranting and pacing about the most recent argument my parents had.

“Sweets, you gotta calm down, please. Come sit,” Eddie motions for me to sit down on the bed next to him but I keep pacing, there are too many emotions for me to be still right now.

“I can’t calm down, I mean they do this all the time! They act all fine and loving around me but then once they think I’ve gone to bed they rip each other’s throats out. I can’t fucking deal with it anymore!” I can feel the tears welling up at the corner of my eyes, but I refuse to cry over them, over this.

Eddie gets up and stands in my path, “Move,” I look at him waiting but he doesn’t budge, “Eddie move. Please.”

“Nope. Not until you take a deep breath and calm down. This is too much for you right now, you just need to sit with it, trust me. If anyone knows fucked up families it’s me.”

“Don’t say that,” My heart breaks hearing him say stuff like that,  “You didn’t choose for your parents to leave you.”

“And you didn’t choose for yours to hate each other,” He places his hands on my shoulders, “If anything else happens just know that I’m here for you. If they start fighting and you need a place to crash come here, Wayne won’t mind and if he does then I’ll kick him out.”

I laugh at his joke, knowing that he would really do it if it had to be done.

“Okay,” I wrap my arms around his waist, pulling him tight, “Thanks Eds. I love you.”

“Love you too honey.”

That was last week. Only last week when Eddie said I could come over any time they were fighting and I didn’t wanna hear it. So when I heard the screams come from down the hall I started getting dressed, but then I stopped. It was only last week. Was it too soon to come over and sleep at his place?

We’ve slept in the same place before but it was merely by accident, either we were watching tv in my living room and we fell asleep or we were cuddling after school and fell asleep. Never was it purposeful, until now.

Another scream comes from my parents room, followed by a crash. I have to leave. I can’t deal with this, so I continue getting dressed and pack a small bag before sneaking out of my room. The worst part is that I can’t even jump out of my window like most teens, I have to actually use the front door if I wanna leave. 

Quietly I open the door to my bedroom and slink out of it as quickly as I can without making noise. Their shouts are louder out here, no cushion protecting my ears now. This also means I can clearly hear what they are yelling about.

“DAVE I HAVE TOLD YOU A THOUSAND TIMES BEFORE-” My mom’s voice coes riquseing down the hall.

“AND I’M TELLING YOU THAT I. DON’T. CARE! WE DO NOT HAVE THE MONEY FOR IT AND THERE IS NO WAY TO GET IT!” My dad’s voice follows close behind.

“WHY NOT? IS IT BECAUSE YOU KEEP SPENDING IT ON HOOKERS AND DRUGS? ARE YOU TRYING TO BREAK UP THIS FAMILY?!”

“FAMILY? FAMILY? YOU THINK THIS IS A FMAILY? THIS IS TWO HUMANS WHO HAD A KID TOGETHER FAR TOO EARLY AND NOW HAVE TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO TAKE CARE OF IT!” 

It. He referred to me as an it, not a she, or a they, or hell even a he. A fucking it! I’ve been their kid for 17 years now and they can’t even pretend to love me. I guess I was never their kid, I was just a burden for them. Well now they don’t have to worry about me.

I rush towards the steps and out the front door, not caring to be quiet anymore. I can feel the raindrops on my skin as they mix with the ever flowing tears. But I don’t care, I need to get as far away from that hell hole as I can, I need to be somewhere safe. I need Eddie.

---

I’m walking for what feels like hours, the rain now completely soaked through my clothes. My feet and hands are frozen but I can’t turn back now, I’m closer to Eddie’s than I am home anyways.

Walking through this part of town at this time of night was always peaceful, it would help me clear my head of all the things it was holding on to. The pain, anxiety and depression would slowly fade away as I walk, left, right, left, right, left, right. Until there was nothing to think of anymore, nothing to worry about.

Now, as I walk the familiar route to the trailer park, my brain can’t seem to shut up or shut off. The screams and yells from my parents flood every corner of my brain, never letting go. No matter how hard I try to get rid of them, they stick like super glue.

I look up from the sidewalk noticing the world around me getting slightly brighter than it was before. Eddie. My heart flutters at the thought of him, the way I know he will hold me and kiss my forehead. I turn into the trailer park, now only a minute away from the one I love.

I approach the doorstep and before I can knock I take a deep breath hoping it will make it less noticeable that I was crying the whole way here. But it doesn’t.

So I knock anyway. Knock, knock, knock. The sound rings through the small home like a pen dropping in an empty room. There’s shuffling on the other end and then the click of the lock. The door swings open to reveal Wayne, Eddie’s uncle. He’s standing there in his work clothes, one shoe on the other sitting by his recliner.

“Oh honey,” He steps aside and ushers me in, helping me take my coat off, “Did you walk all the way here?”

I nod, not trusting my voice just yet. Eddie calls from the other room, “Who is it? I just ordered pizza so it really shouldn’t be here ye-” He talks as he walks out of his room, cups and plates sitting in his hand.

“Shit.” He rushes over to me and cups my face in his hands, “What happened? What’s going on?” His eyes are frantic and he looks back and forth from me to Wayne, hoping someone will answer.

“My-” My voice cracks as I try to speak so I take a moment to think of what to say, “Parents.” I finally settle on. 

Eddie just nods and pulls me in for a hug, not caring that I’m soaked from head to toe. Wayne finishes putting on his other shoe then walks over to Eddie.

“She can stay as long as she needs, okay? Don’t worry about it. I’ll bring some stuff home after my shift.” Then he pats him on the shoulder and heads out into the pouring rain that you just escaped from.

Eddie keeps holding me while I cry into his chest, wishing that this nightmare of a life was over. As I calm down I can hear him spftly whispering things to me.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re safe here. I love you so much baby.” The words fill my heart with warmth and happiness that I can’t help but to stop thinking about my parents.

I sadly pull away from Eddie, missing his warmth and look up at him, “Thank you.” My voice is still weak but it’s less strained than before.

“It’s nothing. I told you I’m always here for you, I don’t care when you come over as long as I know you’re safe.” He plants a kiss on my temple, “Can I start a warm bath for you? I don’t want you to catch a cold from these wet clothes.”

This. This is the Eddie everyone needs to see, if they did they would understand him the way I do. This sweet and caring boy who only wants the best for those he loves and cares for. I couldn’t have wished for anyone more perfect than him.

I nod my head and follow him as he leads us to the small bathroom next to his bedroom. He turns the faucet on and tests the temperature before turning back to me.

“I’ll set out some clothes on my bed and here,” He grabs a towel from the hall closet, “Is a towel for when you’re done. I’m just gonna be in the living room, so call if you need anything okay?”

“Thank you.”

“You already said that sweet girl,” A smile spread across his face, showing off his signature dimples.

“I know, but I want you to know that I really mean it,” I give him a quick kiss before he’s heading out into the living room again.

I quickly strip down, tearing the wet clothes from my body with some struggle, before finally getting into the warm water that Eddie prepared. The heat immediately starts to soothe my aching muscles and joints, the feeling bringing a wash of relaxation over me.

I wash myself off and clean my hair with Eddie’s coconut shampoo and conditioner. I always love the smell when he’s fresh out the shower and the scent is the strongest. After I’m thoroughly cleaned I get out and dry myself most of the way, only missing a few spots on my back.

I exit the bathroom and am blasted with a wave of cold air, sending shivers up my spine. I head into Eddie’s room to change and dry my hair. I walk in and notice that he left out his favorite Hellfire short and some grey sweats for me to wear, even if they both are over sized I love the gesture. I throw them on and admire the fit in his mirror before heading out to Eddie in the next room.

“There she is!” Eddie says, opening his arms wide, “How ya feelin’?” I walk over and snuggle up next to him, engulfed in the scent and warmth of him once again.

“Better. Still a little cold though,” I nuzzle further into him, not that there’s much room between us already.

“Well you’re in luck. I looked in the pantry and found some hot cocoa mix and mini marshmallows. I got your mug sittin in the kitchen,” Before I could even try to get it myself Eddie is up and off the couch and in the kitchen warming up my cocoa. He comes back only seconds later with a large mug topped with far too many marshmallows.

“Thank you,” I say as I reach out and grab the mug with both hands. I take a sip and feel as the warm liquid heats me from the inside. “DId you add-”

“Peppermint and cinnamon, yes ma’am. I know what you like,” He winks at me. A blush creeps up my cheeks at the words but I hide my face in the delicious drink before he can see. Eddie turns away from me to grab a nearby blanket and toss it over my shoulders, but he doesn’t go back to his seat.

“Come back! I miss your warmth.”

“Yeah yeah in a minute I gotta put this movie on first,” He’s crouched in front of the tv shuffling through disks and tapes. A minute later he finds the one he was looking for with a triumphant “Here it is, that little bastard.”

I just roll my eyes at him as he sets up the movie. Finally done with that and anything else he might need to do, Eddie slides in next to me and cuddles in the blanket as well. We watch as the screen brightens and the opening scene of my favorite movie starts to play.

“Wait, how did you?” I look between the tv and the man next to me, who just has a smile on his face as he looks at my shocked expression. “I bought it a while ago, figured you’d be over a lot so I might as well start making it more homey for you.”

I am in too much shock to utter any words so I opt for smothering him in kisses instead. This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me and I can’t imagine anyone else sitting here next to me other than Eddie. We both burst out laughing before settling down and watching the movie before both of us drift off to sleep.

Eddie Taglist: @ali-r3n @dixontardis @witchwolflea @micheledawn1975 @daydreaming-mood @idfwfeelings @adaydreamaway08 @preciousbumplingbee @rustboxstarr @plk-18 @teary-eyed-egg @needylilgal022 @exploding-bonbon @gagasbee @eddiemunsonsguitarpic @aol19 @thatwitchyoucouldntburn @meanlilbean @sonnyahngel @corrodedcass @pigwidgeonxo @marsmunson86 @lottie-90 @figmentofquinn @sareim123122 @eddies-puppet @gvf23 @kennedy-brooke @rocklees-wife @emma77645 @cherris-n-peaches @breehumbles @joequinn-love @anyoddthoughts @aysheashea @eddiesskittle @uncxmfxrtablex @cherrymedicine13 @mrsjellymunson @shotgunhallelujah @bambipowerblueaddition @hexqueensupreme @josephquinnsfreckles @harrysgothicbitch @paleidiot @smurfflynn @lilyungpeanut @selena-rocker27

[thefallenangelsgang]

The Avantris Fam Discord got this a few days early, but, in a burst of academic energy I haven't felt in weeks, I wrote a 2k word Literary Analysis on Marius from Edge of Midnight in 4 hours (complete with citations and sources)

What you are about to read is the culmination of an 18 day hyper fixation (I averaged more than a session* a day) (*each session being about 3 hours in length). It has only been slightly edited for better Tumblr consumption. It is legitimately almost 2k words. It starts VERY academic (as I get to flex my knowledge on an obscure Arthurian legend I love) and then immediately drops off in quality as I traverse some "dubious psycho-analysis" (my own words) and try to wrap up a half finished thoughts that should be thousands of words longer.

If you want to see my active descent into madness or the original google doc this was written in, join the discord (linked above!). I've got massive Legends of Avantris Brain Rot and will for a very long time I fear.

TW for Sexual Assault Themes (please tell me if my tw tags are not extensive enough)

CW for my insufferable academic attitude, literary analysis where no one wanted it, "dubious psycho-analysis", half finished thoughts, DnD, vampires, and my sailors mouth

Marius: An Analysis on Chivalry and Chastity

Break to save your dash

To get the literary shit out of the way, Marius’s seduction is a parallel of the Arthurian Legend “Sir Gawain and the Green Knight” intentionally or not. I have a sneaking suspicion perhaps The Duchess scene is also based on the “Tale of Sir Galahad” bit in Monty Python and the Holy Grail BUT that bit draws inspiration from Gawain’s story. So no matter which way you cut it, Marius is connected to Gawain to SOME degree.

Attempting to be brief, I’ll sum up Gawain as briefly as I, someone who loves this tale a ridiculous amount, can.

Gawain is King Arthur’s nephew, a knight of the round table, young, chivalrous, pious, but itching to prove himself. He loves the aging Arthur and Arthur loves him like a son but he feels restless in his station because he has not gone on a great quest like many of the other knights. 

Serendipitously, during the New Years celebrations a strange man enters Arthur’s great hall. He is green and carries a great axe in one hand and a bough of holly in his other. He challenges anyone in the room to hit him with the axe and he will return the blow in a year and a day. No one takes the man up on the challenge. Arthur is about to do it when Gawain takes his chance to prove himself. Thinking he can outsmart the Green Knight, Gawain cleaves the man’s head from his shoulders. Unexpectedly the Green Knight picks up his detached head, leaves the axe for Gawain as a trophy, and strides out of there with the reminder that he will return the blow in a year and a day. Gawain has effectively doomed himself.

Attempting to put off his fate, Gawain waits to seek the Green Knight until All Saints Day (November 1st). He is sent forth with all of the pomp and circumstance a Knight of the Round Table and favorite of King Arthur can get. He spends nearly two months seeking someone who knows of the Green Chapel where the Green Knight resides and is fruitless. Winter sets in and he begins to suffer exposure when he is greeted by a beautiful castle that seemingly appears out of nowhere. He meets the Lord of the Castle and the Lord's beautiful wife. In the spirit of Christmas the Lord challenges Gawain to a game. The Lord will be hunting the next three days, anything he catches is to be Gawain’s. In return Gawain is to give the Lord anything he receives during his stay.

Well what Gawain receives is a lot of unwanted attention from the Lord’s wife. She attempts to seduce the ever pious Knight. Gawain, minding his promise and his tenets, only allows her six kisses over the course of the three days. All of which he returns to the Lord. But seeing as she can’t sway him with the sins of the flesh, she tempts Gawain with magic. The same day she convinces Gawain to receive three kisses she offers him an enchanted sash that will keep him from harm. Gawain accepts this knowing it will save his life in the coming days. He breaks his promise to the Lord and does not divulge this gift.

Gawain keeps his appointment with the Green Knight who admonishes Gawain when he flinches at the first swing, holds back on his second, and finally drives home the third, only wounding Gawain slightly. Gawain now must confess his temptation to the Green Knight who tells him that it is not Gawain’s fault. This has all been a plan by Morgan le Fay to attempt to ruin Arthur. Gawain only fell to part of her plan and so it has been thwarted. He should learn from this stumble on his path. And learn he does.

Monty Python takes this tale and guts it for “the Tale of Sir Galahad” segment. Galahad is instead searching for the Grail when he stumbles upon a mystical castle with a grail shaped beacon. His temptress(es) are the “8 scores” of young women of Castle Anthrax. He too enters the castle sick from exposure and wounded and thwarts unwanted advances until he learns that the grail is not there. Before he can fall to his temptation Lancelot, Ector, and ironically Gawain rescue him from his “peril” judging it to be “too perilous” for him to face. (It is really important to note that the actual Sir Galahad in Arthurian Legend doesn’t have a story that even resembles this one. Galahad is supposed to be an emulation of good ol’ Jesus Christ and the perfect chivalric Knight. He literally ascends to heaven in his tale. The only reason Gawain’s Tale is used is because it is the perfect setting to test “Sir Galahad the Pure” as long as you fudge a few details.)

These are both humorous stories with happy endings. It is important that Marius’s story is not.

Marius is searching for the Grail much like Sir Galahad in Monty Python and the Holy Grail (a parallel Mikey brings up often by singing “Brave, Brave, Brave, Brave Sir Robin Marius”). 

Like both Gawain and Galahad his quest leads him on a lengthy adventure that causes him to suffer from exposure to the elements. A fate he is saved from by a mystical castle that appears out of nowhere. 

Much like Gawain and Galahad, this Castle is the home of a seductress. 

And all too much like Sir Gawain, the Lord of this Castle is away on a hunting expedition. 

But here is where Sir Gawain, Sir Galahad, and Sir Marius’s stories diverge. Because Marius’s story partially is a story of sexual assault. 

We see in the ritual that Marius’s “head is filled with exhaustion, wine, and a strange perfume that feels almost magical in its enchantment” (Nikkie’s narration, 2:32:00, Chapter 17). There’s literally no other way to say this, Marius cannot consent to the acts about to take place in The Red Duchess’s bedchamber. He is too sick, too drunk, and, on top of it, literally charmed. 

His affliction is also another facet of this assault. While his transformation is not a direct result or part of the sex act, it follows quickly on the heels of it. Nikkie even notes Marius is still naked and that the shame of what has just happened is beginning to bubble up.

(Now this is where I get into the dubious psycho-analysis)

Perhaps attempting to swallow that shame, he accepts the Faux Grail and drinks from it, not questioning the appearance of the so-called Grail of Dawn. If he can just get through this night he can bring it back to Victor and all will be righted. He can live with the shame if it saves his kingdom. 

But that isn’t the Grail of Dawn he is drinking from and the woman who has just taken something irreplaceable from him is not just a beautiful woman looking for the comforts of the flesh on a cold, lonely winter’s night. And he is going through something so much more horrible than being assaulted like he has been.

And so he ends up back in the cold, irrevocably changed through no fault of his own, and he hates himself for it.

It’s heartbreakingly common that Sexual Assault survivors blame themselves for being assaulted. Marius’s conviction that he was at fault, that if only he was stronger, smarter, less feeble, he could have found a way to say no. He could have escaped her clutches. He wouldn’t be a Dhampir. He wouldn’t be haunted by her noxious perfume. He would still have his clear connection to Lathander. 

None of it is really his fault. The Duchess took advantage of him. There was truly nothing he could have done to change his fate that night.

At this point I am trying to articulate some of the things @middycat_ @zer09851 and @purpledinosaurdnd were talking about here https://discord.com/channels/223485292449890305/892828741900849182/1182483200505815153 

I think I want to jump into my High Inquisitor thoughts because they tie so closely with the novel I wrote above. This section is admittedly a little more scatterbrained. 

The High Inquisitor is a perfect example of both Marius’s self loathing and the way abusers seemingly can sniff out who has been abused before. From the second we meet her she singles Marius out. While yes, Marius is the most “normal” out of the EoM cast, Jericho is a MUCH easier target. He is touch starved and his sin is literally Envy. Jericho would have bent immediately at the first hints of affection and then she has an actual demon under her control. But Marius, though a tougher catch, is a much tastier meal so to say. (Not in that way you freaks /j) 

By answering to the High Inquisitor’s beckoning is how we end up with Marius as the Crimson Abbot. His self hatred would make him spiral and he’d turn to his Wrath to compensate. We’ve seen it before, especially recently when he thinks Lathander has abandoned him. He gives in because it's so much easier. She wants me? Fine. Let her have me in all of my broken glory. I’m too wrong to serve Lathander. Etc etc. 

Man, I wish I could string these thoughts together better.

AHA! This was the thought I had that I felt needed more context! 

@middycat_ brought up “hoping beyond hope that it’s not lathander’s choice to leave him”

I think the severed connection between him and Lathander is both a subconscious self-sabotage and a direct result of the ritual binding him to The Red Duchess. 

Most of the binding rituals I was pretty comfortable with. Lethica, Briggsy, Farryn, and somewhat Yorgrim were simply binding themselves to their gods/patrons. (I’m still not entirely sure what the Maiden of the Mists' whole deal is about but she seems mostly benevolent for now. Mr Crossroads didn’t really make Briggsy that way, he kinda was a bastard from the start. The zombification was a result of “fuck around and find out”). The ones I felt least comfortable with and that are reaping the most consequences are Jericho and Marius. Jericho’s character analysis is another similarly sized tome that will have to wait but he is having a harder and harder time keeping Virgil in check. Marius has bound himself to the woman that literally raped him. 

No wonder Lathander has found it hard to commune with him, The Duchess is practically breathing down his neck, whispering in his ear that he is not worthy of Lathander. He has been debased, ruined, made unloveable in the eyes of that god. And at least up until Chapter 22 he has been pushing back against that. Not any longer. He’s given in. As @middycat_ said “he’s a tired old man, a jaded old soldier who should have long since given up this fight to someone else.” 

I am afraid we are about to see the beginnings of the Crimson Abbot

And the only thing that can save Marius are his friends.

But I am also afraid they may not learn their lessons in time. Many of them tried to encourage him to fuck or made fun of him for not fucking the High Inquisitor when he was clearly triggered by something. 

Jericho will have to quash his envy. 

Briggsy and Farryn will have to admit they were wrong.

Lethica and Yorgrim will have to speak up.

Inaction hurts as much as action

And Marius needs all the help he can get.

[If you stuck this out A) you deserve awards and B) check out my other 2k word research essay on a niche topic: Why Ghouls Look Different Across the Fallout Games (Not because of Stylistic Differences) ]

This is fucking insane but here are the sources i used

Sir Gawain

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sir_Gawain_and_the_Green_Knight https://www.yorku.ca/inpar/sggk_neilson.pdf (Translation PDF if you want to read the tale)

Sir Galahad

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Galahad (for the one time i reference his actual arthurian legend)

Monty Python (I really can’t believe I cited this)

https://montycasinos.com/montypython/grailmm2.php.html (This is a script I was quoting from) https://montypython.fandom.com/wiki/Sir_Galahad (I was looking for other info on him in the movie but ended pulling the list of knights from this)

Pretty basic article on why victims blame themselves

https://www.throughthewoodstherapy.com/sexual-assault-survivors-blame/ (In case you want to do some light reading)

EoM Episodes

17 + 22 Definitely Anytime the High Inquisitor shows up

[howlingday]

The Salem Song

Salem: Oh, Zwei~! I heard there's a song about me, and I want to hear it!

Zwei: Are... Are you sure?

Salem: Zwei, put the song on!

Zwei: It's... It's not very nice.

Salem: Zwei, put it on!

Zwei: Alright. (Presses scroll)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Music plays to the musical tune of "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch")

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You're a mean one, Ms. Salem~.

Salem: That's me~.

You're a fugly piece of shit~!

Salem: What?

You bring bendy straws to bathrooms 'cause you like the taste of piss, Ms. Saleeeeem~!

Salem: No. No, I- No, I don't.

I wouldn't suck your tits if they were dipped in honey and could cure cancer.

Salem: Monty Oum! Who wrote this?! Who wrote this song, Zwei?!

ALSO YOU HAVE NO TIIIIIITS~!

Salem: Zwei, stop the song.

Zwei: I can't.

Salem: What do you mean you can't?

Zwei: It's broken.

Salem: What's broken?!

Zwei: I dunno, it's jammed.

Salem: What do you- Fine! Can you at least turn it down?

Zwei: I can't. I... I'm a dog.

Salem: ZWEI!

You're a dipshit, Ms. Salem~.

Salem: (Sighs) Okay?

Even babies want you dead~!

Salem: ...Wow.

You've never bring home a man 'cause you're scared you'll wet the bed, Ms. Saleeeeeeem~!

Salem: I wish they weren't so good at rhyming.

The three words that best describe you are as follows, and I quote:

BITCH!

Salem: I'm not.

DUMPSTER!

BITCH!

Salem: No, no, no, this is not how it goes! Like, I knew they changed it, but I thought it would be like a key change, or maybe a guitar solo! But this is... This is just degrading. This hurts.

Zwei: It's pretty detailed, yeah.

Salem: What happened to the Beowolf part? I actually liked that part! It was kinda funny!

Zwei: It was a Beringel.

Salem: No, it was a Beowolf!

Zwei: It was a Beringel.

Salem: Was it a Beringel?

Zwei: Yeah, "Two Left Foot Beringel".

Salem: Oh.

You're poor, Ms. Salem~!

Salem: Didn't leave a stone unturned.

You can't afford the bus~!

Salem: Lower middle class, maybe!

You're deathly allergic to treenuts, and your exact address is thus,

Ms. Saleeeeeeem~!

Salem: What? Nonono! I-!

1482 Black Dragon Island Blvd.

Salem: Holy shit...

Remnant, Nevada.

Salem: That's my address! Wh-What are you gonna do?!

I MAILED YOUR BITCH-ASS A BAG OF NUUUUUUUUTS~!

Salem: This is a song that kids sing? Every year, they sing this same song around the Non-Descript Winter Holiday decorations?

Zwei: Yeah

Salem: A song that says "bitch"?! It has said "bitch" three times!

Zwei: Yeah, that's... That's too much.

Salem: They know I saved humanity, right?! Like, at the end of the series, I saved them all! I'm a good guy now! I pay my taxes! I go to church! (Epic solo) Oh, there is a guitar solo. ...Okay, that actually is a really good solo.

Zwei: Yeah.

Salem: Just a shame about the rest of the song.

It's not just that you are inbred~!

Salem: I'm fucked.

Miss Salem~!

Salem: This feels bad...

You don't know how to read~!

Salem: This feels really bad...

I CANNOT STRESS ENOUGH HOW MUCH YOU LOVE TO SUCK DOWN PEE, MS. SALEEEM~!

Salem: ...

According to an anonymous poll, with a sample size of more than three thousand people of Remnant who are asked to rank you on a scale from one to a hundred...

Zwei: ...Ms. Salem?

Salem: (Gone from her seat)

...based on variant traits such as likeablility, general odor, and your physical attractiveness...

Salem: (Standing over a cliff, Music muffled)

...THE HIGHEST NUMBER WE GOT WAS THREEEEEE~!

Zwei: What's wrong, Ms. Salem?

Salem: ...You ever feel like no matter how hard you try, people will always see you as your past self. Just as this one thing. This one, unchangeable thing.

Zwei: ...Like a dog?

Salem: (Sighs) I guess no matter what I do, I'll always be this black, white, and red monster.

Zwei: You're red?

Salem: Yeah, I'm red.

Zwei: Oh. I always thought you were gray.

Salem: You didn't know I was red, too?

Zwei: No. Dog.

Salem: (Smiles) That's right.

Zwei: ...I love you, Ms. Salem.

Salem: (Pets Zwei) I love you, too, Zwei.

Zwei: Happy Non-Descript Winter Holiday.

Salem: Happy Non-Descript Winter Holiday.

[shinogi-xx]

INTERMISSION TIME Ch. 16 (Trade Mistakes) This one is fun. I've always hoped that the reveal of this being a flashback chapter is a good one, and not confusing-- when 'Sasabe' steps into the room and it's NOT Kei i feel like IT HITS IDK!!! And since we know that Nikko was killed on the 26th of December, this takes place close to that time. It's why the man is so stressed about his calendar, he gets really busy close to the new year. (There's also a tiny thread with Genzo back in ch 5 when he first meets Kei properly, she tells him her name and he gets a small look of pity on his face-- here it's confirmed that he not only knew about Nikko, but even bumped into him once)

ARC THREE / FINAL ARC Ch. 17 (Acceptance In The Waves) OK I HAVEN'T READ THIS CHAPTER IN A MINUTE BC I FORGOT RIO'S LIL FLACKBACK REASSURANCE THAT IS SO SWEET WTF??? I LOVE THAT MAN SOBS (also it was nicely placed i think?? bc we never do get the end of that conversation back in that chapter so I like that the importance of it continues here) Ok I finished reading it and bro that's so fucking sad.. that's why I don't read this one anymore :HA: the emotional beats hit but the writing feels muddier than usual here? I'm realizing as I do this the specific ways that I tend to over-crowd my sentences so hopefully I can fix that going forward.

Ch. 18 (Anchor And Hope) This one flows better than the last one I think, and carries the emotions through well enough that I think Kei's motivations are understandable? More importantly JYUTO'S BACK EVERYONE ROUND OF APPLAUSE hes such a bitch in this one and i love it

Ch. 19 (Up Against The Wall) (that title fucking throws me) (its really good in context of both the meaning and the song itself) (but like holy shit also bc of the final scene hdfjksghjkfdshkhsjg) Immediately upon reading this in line with the other chapters, it's really clear that there was such a big gap in time when I wrote it. Thankfully I don't mean that in terms of the story, I think it flows well enough from the previous chapter? Mostly in regards to the writing itself. There's a more polished tightness to it, like I fixed that sloppiness I was growing sick of two chapters ago. "she thought of the way that fires ate gasoline" is my favorite way to describe Kei being a brat ever ever ever :HA:

Ch. 20 (Stay) The irony of the first sentence of this chapter being "Run." and the title being "Stay" is just too good man. This song is so good for this chapter raaahhfdj I don't have a ton to say about this one except holy shit! I love SaKe (I could gush for hours but this isn't the place)

So! That's everything so far... I'm glad I reread everything again because I literally already had to fix some things in chapter 21's outline bc I forgot I either already covered that or I was contradicting myself a little. Thanks for everything, Unnamed Story.

me when this meme i made 15 thousand words ago still applies (it's at 55.6K now)

yearly SaKe re-read post

because I've finally been working on chapter 21's outline again, and my last full read through was over a year ago and didn't include 19 & 20. If I'm going to attempt to start 21's document, I'm gonna need to get everything really fresh again first. Which also means: I dissect shit again, and blog about it. (I swear it helps with the process) (but it also just scratches my brain really nice) Also to note, I'm gonna be editing again. Maybe even tackling some of the bigger issues with the story that have bugged me but would be a project in itself. We'll see.

Notes from last time (for ease of access): here

[fushigowo]

𝐒𝐇𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓 | 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

╰┈➤ gojo satoru x fem!reader

╰┈➤ synopsis: in your LIT 2000, your classmate, gojo satoru, has his eyes set on the shyest student after telling his theory to getou suguru that the shyest ones are always the horniest. to prove his theory right, satoru finds ways to know whether he’s correct and he’s absolutely sure that he is.

╰┈➤ warnings: fingering, cunnilingus, oral sex, teasing, praise, degradation? soft to rough sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dumbification, doggy style, cowgirl, name-calling, size kink, spanking, begging, pleasure dom satoru!! (reader and satoru are in their early 20s)

╰┈➤ a/n: this was supposed to be posted on christmas but i didn’t finish it on time :(( but i hope u all had a gentle holiday!! as a gift, i wrote whatever this is and i got inspiration from this soundgasm audio which is HOT AF!!! also, i did not proofread this. im lazy as fuck

PART I | PART II

Gojo Satoru has his pretty cerulean eyes set on someone, and that someone is none other than you.

You sit at the very front of the classroom, three rows in front of Satoru’s where he can get a clear view of you every time he stares. Not only you’re the smartest and the teacher’s pet, Satoru considers you as the most mysterious student in LIT 2000 despite being with 30 more students because of how quiet you are.

Satoru’s been observing you since the start of the year and the thing that he noticed the most was that you rarely and he means rarely talk to anyone or even participate in class. Whenever you’re called by the professor, you would mumble some I don’t knows and I’m sorrys because you can’t answer the question that was given to you. However, Satoru knew for a fact that you’re just saying those things so you won’t get to speak longer than that. He knew very well that you know the answer to every damn question.

Which is why he is so lucky to have you as a partner for a midterm essay.

As for you, you don’t know what to feel when professor called your name after Gojo Satoru’s.

You don’t really have a problem writing a five-page or more essay with a minimum of three thousand words. The problem is… Gojo Satoru is your partner. It’s not like you don’t like him. It’s just that...

Holy fucking shit. Did she figure out that I have a huge crush on Satoru?! Is that why she paired me up with him? But I made sure not to make it obvious! No, no. This won’t do.

So after class was over, you had a talk with your professor, begging for her to take the midterm essay on your own. The talk didn’t go well as planned.

Since Satoru is having a hard time catching up with LIT 2000, your professor told you to help him by partnering up in this midterm essay. However, that didn’t sit right with you so you protested, saying that there’s a chance that Satoru wouldn’t help writing the paper which would result into you writing the entire thing yourself. But that was just an excuse not to work with Satoru, otherwise you would get all flustered and nervous throughout the week while working on this midterm essay.

“It is not different from doing the entire essay myself,” you scoff.

“I know, but that is also why I partnered him with you,” she says, making you raise an eyebrow. “You can let me know if Satoru didn’t help with anything at all, which is easier for me to fail him.”

“You’re gonna fail him?” you ask.

“Yes. As you can see, Satoru hasn’t been performing well in my class,” she says, “but I figured you can help him since you’re my top performing student. Can I count on you?”

“There are other top performing students in your class though,” you mumble. Sighing in defeat, you agreed to partner up with Satoru. “Professor, did you know that I have a crush on Satoru? Is that another reason why you paired me with him?”

Silence. She knows.

“I genuinely did not know that until now.”

Crap. She doesn’t know. And I told her?! Holy—

“ForgetIsaidanythingprofessorthankyouforyourtimegoodbye.”

With that, you immediately rushed out of her office and slammed the door shut.

The only reason why you wanted to do this midterm essay on your own is because you won't have to deal with Satoru’s presence. Oh, his presence alone would make you so nervous that your smartass brain won’t even function and you would get all flustered, which is really bad because this might hinder your focus on working on the essay. Not only that, but Gojo Satoru does not take things seriously. A complete opposite of you since you take everything related to academics very seriously. But you realized that it won’t hurt to give a little help for Satoru to not fail LIT 2000.

Meanwhile, Gojo Satoru wanders around the halls of the building, in hopes of searching for you so the two of you can start working on the essay. But before that, he had a talk with his best friend, Getou Suguru.

“Yo, Satoru,” Suguru approached the white-haired man with one hand raised up. “I heard your partner for this midterm is that girl. Won’t this be the perfect time to test that theory of yours?”

“Yeah, well, I’m not trying to get into her pants,” Satoru says and a smirk grew on his glossy lips, ”not unless she wants me to.”

After your talk with your literature professor, you had to compose yourself in the rest room and even practiced a script on how you’re going to talk to Satoru. However, you had a realization that this isn’t going to be the only time that you’ll interact with Gojo Satoru since your professor knows that you have a thing for him. You scold yourself for being so nervous around him, despite being a grown ass woman.

But Satoru is… just so pretty. I can’t even look at him straight in the eyes. Also because I’ve touched myself to the thought of him so that would be awkward as fuck.

When you finally got out of the restroom, you heard a loud voice from behind and the minute you heard that voice, you already knew that it would be him. Looking over your shoulder, Satoru in his white long sleeves, black pants, messy yet gorgeous white hair and those round sunglasses. The tall man approached you with a smile on his face while you try not to melt down the ground that you’re standing on.

“I was looking for you,” Satoru says. “I thought we could start working on the essay so we can finish it ahead of the deadline.”

“You—uh, you want to start working now?” you ask, but a hint of nervousness in your voice.

“Yep!” Satoru gives you a smile and a thumbs up, and suddenly, he leans down on your face and brings his lips closer to your ear, making you shiver. “Just between you and me, I think professor is failing me this semester.”

Your eyes widen when he mentioned that.

Could it be that he heard your conversation with your professor earlier? Did he also hear the part where you told her that you have a crush on Satoru? That would make him think that you’re a complete loser in your 20s and in college yet you act like a teenager with a crush. But it’s not your fault that you’ve rejected so many guys because they’re not your standards and it’s definitely not your fault that you reject them because they’re not Satoru.

“Why would you think that?” you ask.

“Mmm? Because I haven’t been performing well in her class.” he grinned.

So he knows.

“Uh, let’s start then,” you say before walking pass him until he asked where you’re going. You look over your shoulder and said, “the library. It’s where I usually do my tasks if not in my apartment.”

“The library is too… quiet. So we’ll work in your apartment instead!”

It’s a library so it would be quiet. And did he just decide that on his own? God, he’s so stupid, I love him.

Your apartment is not far from your university. The reason why you had an apartment for yourself is because you don’t want another person taking up space and you most definitely don’t want to live with another person that you barely even know. And you’re not bothered that you’re living off-campus. It just makes it easier for you to live independently.

When the two of you got in your apartment, Satoru’s cerulean eyes scanned and observed the place. It was neat and everything is organized. But the thing that caught his attention is the stack of books next to the balcony of your apartment. Four stack of books that almost reach Satoru’s waist and he’s a tall guy. He knew that you read a lot since every time he takes glances at you in class, you’re either reading or writing something so he knows that you like reading, but he didn’t expect you to like it that much.

“Sorry, it’s a mess here,” you mumble. “Let’s get started.” You sit down on the wooden floor as you place your laptop on the coffee table adjacent to Satoru who is now sitting on the couch.

“I forgot my laptop.”

You blinked. Twice.

“Sit next to me.” he mumbled.

And that’s what you did despite being flustered at the thought that it’s only you and Satoru inside your apartment. The thought has you squeezing your legs together as you try to listen to Satoru about his ideas regarding the midterm essay. However, your thoughts were making your mind foggy and you couldn’t think straight. It’s awkward that on this very couch, you’ve touched yourself to the thought of Satoru and now, he’s sitting right next to you.

“Hey,” Satoru calls out. “You okay?”

“Mmm, yeah…” you mumble. “Since, uh, since professor asked us to analyze a chosen text from the 20th century regarding its social context, let’s choose a piece first to write about first. Do you have anything in mind?” you ask, trying your best to not make eye contact with him now that he doesn’t have his round sunglasses on.

“I have a few,” he says. “How about The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath? Or No Longer Human by Dazai Osamu? Ah! I know. Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck.”

“Am I the only one who didn’t cry my eyes out at the end?” you ask.

“What? You did not cry your eyes out at the end?! Are you even human?” Satory’s eyes widen, looking at you with shock while your eyes are locked on your laptop as you type. “I had snot coming out of my nose that soaked the pages of my book when I read that.”

“First of all, that’s disgusting. Second, it was sad, I admit, but I didn’t shed a tear. It was really good though so kudos to you, Mr. Steinbeck.” you chuckle. “Third, I gave it a five stars so you don’t have to attack me.”

Satoru laughs, making you flustered all over again. This is the first time you’ve heard him laugh this close and he’s laughing because of you, and you like it of course. You like that he’s comfortable around you and you like that he’s still himself despite you being awkward around his presence.

“You know, you’re actually fun to be with,” he says. Satoru’s legs are crossed while his elbow is resting on the arm rest and his cheek is on top of his closed palm as he stares at you with his pretty cerulean eyes. “But why can’t you look at me in the eyes?”

You gulped, squeezing your legs together since you can feel him staring daggers at you. Satoru seems to notice your action and a smirk formed on his glossy lips. Satoru moves closer to you, almost like you can feel his hot breath touching the sensitive part of your neck, making you shiver.

“Are you scared of me?” he asks and the only answer you could give him is by shaking your head, telling him that it’s a no. “Hmm? Then why can’t you look at me?”

You didn’t answer.

“Look at me,” he demand.

This time, you feel Satoru’s fingers making its way down your chin, making you face him and look up at him but despite his actions of forcing you to stare into his pretty cerulean eyes, you didn’t protest at all… because you like every single move he’s making on you. Satoru’s other hand glides down your arm, feeling your soft skin that made you shiver because of his warm touch.

When your eyes met his, you couldn’t help but melt on your seat. And it’s not just because Satoru is staring at you.

“There you go,” he chuckles. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now tell me, sweetheart, why are so flustered around me?”

You couldn’t form the words. Of course you can’t. How could you even continue to talk when Gojo motherfucking Satoru is so close to you that his hot breath is almost touching your skin and his hands are caressing your arms and chin, leaving you no choice but stare into his eyes. Not to mention the smirk that he has on his glossy lips.

“T-that’s because I… I—fuck.” you curse under your breath, trying hard to compose yourself and break eye contact.

“Do I make you nervous? Is that why you’re squirming and squeezing your leg so much?” he chuckles.

You bit your lips—hard—trying to wake yourself up and check if you’re having another wet dream about Satoru again. Fortunately, you are fully awake and the person right in front of you is the real Gojo Satoru. Not your fantasy, not your dream, but real. It was hard you to believe that something that you wanted for so long finally came true and you most definitely won’t let this moment go.

“S-Satoru…” you whisper, almost inaudible.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he asks with a smile on his face. “Is there something you want? Or need?”

He knows what he’s doing. He definitely knows what he’s doing.

“Touch me…” you mumble under your breath. “Just—touch me, please.”

With that, Satoru chuckles before leaning in towards your ears. His hands trailing down, from your chin down to your neck and wraps his slender fingers around the base, but not too tight. Just enough to make you squirm and squeeze your legs even more.

“If the shy girl wants it then who am I to refuse?” he whispers, his hot breath touching your skin that caused the hairs of your body to stand up.

Suddenly, you feel a wet yet hot sensation make contact with your ears, making its way down your jaw while Satoru’s hand tilt your head to the sides to give him more access of licking and kissing your jaw and neck. Your back touched the arm rest behind you as Satoru slowly pushed you down. He held both your thighs, positioning them to open so he can stay in between them as he kisses your neck down your collarbone, leaving bites and marks.

As Satoru devours your neck and collarbone, his hand expertly unbuttons your shirt while the other caresses your thighs, his fingers making circle patterns on your skin. When your buttons are finally undone, Satoru opens your shirt so he can clearly see your body underneath him. He pulls away from you so he can properly enjoy the view then pulls his shirt over his head.

Your half-lidded eyes earlier suddenly widen when you saw the perfect view of Satoru’s body. A body that was almost carved by the gods themselves and that wasn’t even the main attraction that caught your attention. It was the veins running down his crotch and that fucking v-line.

“You like the view from down there, slut?” he chuckles but then he noticed how you whined and squirmed underneath him when he called you slut. “Oh? Did you like being called that?”

You nod. But Satoru doesn’t take that as an answer so his hand made its way down to your neck again but he wasn’t squeezing it too hard.

“Yes,” you say. “I like it, Satoru. Like it when you—ngh—when you call me a slut.”

“Good. Because that’s what you are,” he mumbles as he leans down to your chest, leaving marks and kisses. “Such a shy little slut for me.”

But the white-haired man scoffs because your bra is in the way. He didn’t bother taking it off by clasping it. He just pulled it down to expose your nipples and didn’t waste any time to lick and suck your sensitive bud, making you arch your back. Satoru’s fingers pinch your other nipple while his knee keeps on pushing and adding pressure on your sensitive pussy, still covered with your now-soaked panties.

Satoru continues to feast on you body while you squirm and moan underneath him. When he was finally done with your tits, Satoru’s kisses went even further down until he reached your skirt. Being the impatient asshole he is, he didn’t bother taking them off and just lifts it up, exposing your panties that has a wet area because of your arousal.

A smirk grew on the white-haired man’s lips and didn’t hesitate to touch the wet area using his index and middle finger. He pushes his fingers on your sensitive bud with enough pressure to have you arching your back. Satoru might be an impatient man but of course he would take your panties off to have better access on your soaking pussy.

Realizing that your cunt is now exposed of Gojo motherfucking Satoru, your hand instinctively covered your pussy as if he did not just suck your tits earlier. But seeing your pussy is different. Of course you’d be shy and flustered. He’s Gojo Satoru, for god’s sake. He’s seen more pussy other than yours.

“Don’t get all shy on me now,” he mumbles. “Take your hands off or I’ll tie them together.”

With that, you slowly took away your hand, letting him see your soaked pussy.

“Don’t hide yourself from me,” he smiles. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

Satoru leans down so he can easily make contact with your cunt. His fingers rub your slit, soaking it with your juices and you couldn’t help but arch your back. A smile grows on his face and suddenly, you can feel him insert a finger inside your cunt, making you whine. His thumb draws circles around your clit that made your thighs quiver until you feel another finger being inserted inside you.

Satoru plunges his fingers in and out of you yet in a slow and sensual pace. He can feel your walls clenching around his fingers as he inserts his digits back. A smirk forms on his glossy lips and plunges his fingers even deeper, deeper than you could reach yourself.

You’ve fingered yourself before but—god, this was so different than what you would usually feel. Is it because his fingers are thicker and longer than yours? Or is it because he’s so fucking good at it?

“Ah! Satoru!” you whine. “R-right there! Right there, please!”

The squelching noise that your pussy and Satoru’s fingers are creating together as well as your wanton moans filled the air of your apartment. You didn’t care how loud you were. You didn’t care if the walls are thin and you didn’t care if your neighbors hear you. You didn’t care about anything else, you just want Satoru to make you cum with his fingers.

Satoru’s pace becomes even more faster, but he figured that it wasn’t enough. Of course it’s not enough. He wasn’t satisfied with just using his fingers.

So he leans down and lolled his tongue out, not even hesitating to lick your sensitive clit, making you jolt and arch your back when you suddenly feel his tongue circling around your clit while his fingers plunge in and out of you. Your legs start to quiver and squirm. The sensation was too much for you that you couldn’t help but close your legs. But Satoru wasn’t done so he grips your legs apart and held the back of your thighs to keep you in place.

This time, Satoru pulls his fingers out and held your thighs in place but his tongue is doing all the work now, licking and sucking your poor overstimulated pussy. Your eyes suddenly widen and your back arched when you feel Satoru insert his tongue inside you, plunging it deeper that his nose is touching your clit.

“Oh, fuck! Satoru! It’s—ngh—too much! I can’t—!”

Your whines and moans continue but Satoru was too busy eating you. But he suddenly pulls away to look at your view. You look so fucked and he didn’t even used his cock yet.

“For someone who’s shy and quiet, you’re being awfully loud for me, sweetheart.” he chuckles before devouring your cunt again.

Satoru can already feel that you’re close. He knows you’re close so he used his thumb to rub circles on your clit and that’s when you completely lost it.

Your legs quiver on Satoru’s grip when you feel your orgasm rip through you. The sensation that Satoru made you feel had you seeing stars, something that you never felt before whenever you touch yourself and this might’ve been the first time that you came this intense. And it felt so fucking good.

Seeing your fucked out state, Satoru chuckles as he watches you catch your breath after that intense orgasm.

“You still with me?” he asks. “I haven’t even used my cock yet!”

“Then use it. Fuck me, Satoru… I want your cock inside me, please.”

“Kiss me first. Come up here and kiss me.” he smiles.

You didn’t hesitate to sit back up and reach for Satoru’s face. Your hand made their way to his cheek while the other caresses his soft white hair. He returns the kiss and inserts his tongue inside your mouth, writhing and swirling against yours. This time, Satoru settles himself next to the arm rest, laying down on the couch while his head rests on the arm rest. Now, you’re on top of him, kissing his glossy lips and grinding your aching pussy on the bulge of his pants.

“Why don’t you do the honors and take my cock out?” Satoru smirks in between your kisses.

And who were you to deny that?

So you unzip Satoru’s pants, bringing it down to reveal the bulge inside his boxers. His cock sprung free when you slid down his boxers, slapping against his lower abdomen. Its size and girth has you gulping because you haven’t seen a cock that big. Sure, you’ve fucked yourself using your dildos but none of your toys compare to Satoru’s cock. A prominent vein runs along the underside of the base of his cock, its pinkish head is releasing pre-cum that drips down to the base.

You didn’t have any idea what you were doing when you had the urge to suck Satoru’s cock. But the white-haired man didn’t have any protests, of course. In fact, his hand is guiding your head to suck on his pulsating cock. After realizing that you didn’t need any guidance, Satoru lets you do your thing.

You let your tongue swirl around the base of his cock and despite it being deep inside your throat, you’re barely even gagging as you take him deeper that your nose is touching his nicely trimmed hair. You continue to suck and lick Satoru’s cock, making him release pretty moans and groans and curses under his breath.

When he felt himself getting close, Satoru couldn’t help but grip your hair and guide your head even though you’re sucking him so well. He just needed something to hold on to and your hair was perfect.

“Ah, fuck! I’m gonna cum. Shit!” he moans until he feels himself release inside your throat. Satoru lets you pull away. Your saliva and some of his cum is leaking down your chin, making him wipe it using his thumb.

“Holy shit. That was so good,” he chuckles. “You sure it’s your first time sucking cock?”

“Uh, well, I-I had some practice,” you say, “with my… toys.”

“Who knew you were such a horny slut?” Satoru didn’t let you answer when he told you to—

“Sit on my cock,” he says. “Sit on my cock and ride me like what you do to your toys. I bet they won’t even compare to mine, huh?”

You gulp before climbing on top of him again. Satoru uses his hand to snake down his head as a pillow while his other hand holds your hips. Positioning yourself on top of him, your hand holds the base of his cock while the other is clinging on the head rest of the couch to support yourself.

You lower yourself down on Satoru’s cock and you couldn’t help but whimper and bite your lips when the tip of his cock finally went inside you. His cock is far more thicker than any of your toys that it has your legs quivering and shaking yet you still continued to lower yourself, taking all of him inside you.

When you stopped, Satoru looks up at you.

“Why’d you stop? You’re not even half way there.”

“What?” you whimper. “Is it t-that big?”

“Yes, sweetheart,” he chuckles. “It’s that big.”

Without answering, you continue to lower yourself. Satoru is staring at how your pussy is taking him all in and how you’re struggling to. You’ve done this numerous times on your toys before but riding a real cock—his cock—is far different from that feeling, mainly because Satoru is big.

“It’s so—ah—so deep, Satoru. I don’t think I can—can’t take more.” you whimper.

“But it’s all inside you now,” he smiles. “Ah, fuck. You feel so good.”

To ease the feeling, Satoru lets you cockwarm him while his thumb rub circles on your sensitive clit. When you finally feel at ease and ready to ride him, Satoru places his hand on your hips to keep you in place as you bounce up and down on his cock.

The squelching noises every time his balls meets your skin fills the air of your apartment once again, accompanied by your loud moans and Satoru’s groans.

You can feel the tip of Satoru’s cock hitting the sweet spot of yours that has you clenching around him and every time you look down at the lewd sight below you, you can see a bulge forming on your lower stomach whenever you sink yourself down on Satoru’s cock. Although you seem to be fine riding him and taking all of his cock, you couldn’t look at him straight in the eyes and you even use your hand to cover the lower half of your face since his cerulean eyes are staring right at you.

“Don’t get all shy on me now, slut. You’re riding my cock and yet you still have the nerve to be shy? C’mon, don’t hide yourself,” Satoru grins when he grips both of your hips and lowers you down.

“Ah! Satoru! What are you—ah!”

You couldn’t seem to think straight when he took the initiative to guide you on his cock in a fast and rough pace. Every time he sinks your body down his cock, his hips would thrust up and meet your movement, making the lewd noises even more louder and harder than before.

“Ngh! Fuck, ‘Toru! It’s so deep! So good!”

“Yeah? It’s better than riding those plastic cocks you own, huh?” he chuckles, followed by a moan. “God, you feel so fucking good. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“‘m gonna—gonna cum, Satoru! ‘m so close! So close!”

“Do it. Cum on my cock.”

With that, your orgasm rip through you once more. Your legs quiver on top of Satoru and your chest making rapid up and down motions, letting you catch your breath while you half-lidded eyes try to open despite being fucked out after releasing another intense orgasm, but this time, on Satoru’s cock.

When you decided to get off Satoru’s still hard cock, he tells you to—

“Bend over the couch.”

And who were you to disobey?

Satoru positions your upper body to bend over the arm rest of the couch, placing a hand wrapped around the back of your neck. Wasting no time, Satoru plunges his cock inside of you again, making you let out a muffled whine.

This time, Satoru didn’t let you relax on his cock and continues to pump inside you in a fast pace. His hands grip your hips as he thrusts in and out of you. His gaze his on the lewd sight of your pussy taking him all in, observing the white ring around his cock.

Who knew he’d be fucking the smartest and shyest girl in his literature class? Who fucking knew that that shy and quiet girl is secretly a horny slut who is begging for him to fuck her harder until she can’t think?

“Oh, fuck! Satoru! Yesyesyes! Fuck me harder, please!”

“Easy.” he mumbles before fucking into you so deep that it reaches your cervix, making you grip the sheets of the couch and whine so loud that you’re sure that everyone in your apartment building heard how you’re being fucked so good.

As Satoru keeps his rough and fast pace consistent, you couldn’t seem to let out coherent words anymore and your eyes are now teary from the pleasure that Satoru is giving you. Your toes are curling and your hands are gripping the sheets as you feel yourself releasing another intense orgasm out of you.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum—gonna cum! ‘m close, Toru! Satoru! Fuck!”

“Yeah, cum on my cock again! Oh, god. Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck!

Satoru quickly pulls out of you before he can release. His hand pumps his cock, releasing his cum on your back while your thighs are now soaked with your juices that drips down your legs. The two of you catch your breath but Satoru pulls you in to kiss you.

“You just proved me right, sweetheart,” he mumbles in between your kisses. “Now let’s work on that essay, yeah?” he pulls away and smiles, as if he didn’t just fucked the words and ideas out of you.

© fushigowo | 2022 reblogs are appreciated <3

[ronoken]

So, who wants a publishing story?

No one?

…Tough.

To preface, this was prompted by a post I saw about always making sure you read a contract before signing it. I wholeheartedly agree.

So, I write books. A roundabout result of writing books is I occasionally get to speak at conventions. When I do speak at conventions (which hasn’t been for a year. Thanks, covid), a standard question I get asked is about the benefits of self-publishing versus getting a contract. And yes, I fully realize that everyone’s experience in this is different, and I get that. Here’s mine.

So, several years ago, I wrote a book. I put a solid year into it and did numerous rewrites, edits, etc. with three wonderful editors and boom. Book. Done. And then, like many who are impatient or who don’t want to run the risk of rejection, I self-published my first novel.

And to my great shock, I actually sold some copies.

Quick aside. I’m not famous. At. Fucking. All. Some is not millions. Some is several thousand at best. And that’s over YEARS. I am not widely known and I do not claim to be. At all.

So yeah, like, I didn’t sell a million or anything, but I was moving over 100 copies a month when I was putting in the marketing work. Not too shabby. I was hustling on Twitter, FB marketing, Google ad marketing, working the review sites, doing interviews, everything I could. And it actually worked. I can honestly say the number of copies I moved a month directly correlated with how hard I pushed. And when I pushed, I pushed damn hard. I even got to a point where a reviewer who became an editor for DC would routinely provide public reviews for my books, and I was doing a superhero series. Not gonna lie- it was fucking rad.

Anyway, after a couple years of doing this, putting out a second novel which sold okay, a bunch of novellas, and so on, I received an offer out of the blue to have my work officially picked up. For realsies.

Admittedly, I was over the moon about this. I was being contacted by an unsolicited source! AND THEY HAD MONEY!

Now, my work wasn’t Shakespeare. I knew that. They did, too. They offered me a nice little starting sum. Not a lot, but holy shit it was FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS UP FRONT. One of my editors reads my Tumblr and I don’t think I’ve ever told them how much it was. It was 5k. To start. Not a lot, publishing-wise, but that’s because the work was already done. See, most publishers will give you more, but the catch is it’s considered a down payment for more books in a series. They pay you to write future novels, and then they expect you to pay it back. I already had a shit ton of content out, so I essentially skipped that step. Which tells me that publishers really don’t expect to have to actually pay you much, but that’s another post.

To my editor- sorry I never said the exact amount. It felt weird, but it’s been years, so it’s not as weird? I dunno. That logic train made sense as I was writing this.

So, 5k upfront, and then 50% of all sales thereafter, and they would handle EVERYTHING. Marketing, scheduling tours, covers, putting me in stores, the lot. Considering how much time, money, and effort these things took, this was not a terrible deal, but there was a catch.

My story would officially no longer be mine.

Oh, my name would be on it, and I’d write it, but from there on out, the publishing house would have 100% control over how it was marketed, where it went, and so on. If they wanted to option it, I would have zero say and zero rights, meaning they could take it and do fuck-all, and I would be left with nothing. Per the contract, they could even go so far as to issue me a cease and desist on my own work and hire a new person to take over. I was signing away everything in my universe if I said yes.

So, despite the allure of having things offered to me like a legit marketing team, book tours, and money (such as it was), I said no thank you.

Now, it didn’t hurt that I’d already made 5k in sales by that point. I knew my worth and how to push to keep it that way, if I so chose. Also, it helped that I was in an okay place when that offer came in. I could look at it and say, “well, that sure would be nice, but I don’t need it.” A lot of talented writers aren’t in that space, and the offer of several months rent or money for food as well as REALLY-REAL PUBLISHING can be hella tempting. And I get it, for some folks, the deals work out alright. And for some they don’t. And I sure as Hell am not going to judge. Seriously, I still have vivid nightmares about working 60+ hours a week and not being able to afford baby formula. Hell, if they had offered that to me just one year earlier, I would have been forced to take it. At that stage of life, 5k would have been life changing. I was just starting to hit the OK section of life, and only barely. Money when you need it is fucking awesome, and sometimes, you take what you can get.

But if you are a writer? And you’re in a place where it’s not life and death? Read the damn contract. Every single time. Make good and sure you know what you’re getting into and ask yourself, is it worth it to you? If it is, awesome. Again, not gonna judge, and every situation is different.

In my specific case though, it was choosing a nice bit of cash over something I had slaved for years over. I couldn’t do it. I still can’t. It’s the one property I’ll never let go of because when I wrote it, I didn’t even know if I could write a book. It proved to me that yes, I really could, and that was worth more than I can put into words.

TLDR: Read your contracts. Make choices good for you. Some things are worth more than money.

[eurydicees]

YOU WROTE 18K BY HAND?? i am so impressed i need to ask what you are writing about. holy shit u are like a god

oh my god ok THANK YOU for asking !!! also in the time since you asked this, i have written another 1,400 words by hand. Anyways. under the cut bc this got. too long.

so this was originally for the 50k big bang project, but it was cancelled so i'm gonna go ahead and talk about it publicly now. SO.

the sparknotes summary: it is an iwaoi post-canon coming of age relationship study !! it's about iwaizumi in california and oikawa in argentina and how they navigate their friendship while long distance. it quite literally walks through every step of their journey from graduation aoba johsai to meeting again at the 2020 olympics....the sheer amount of time i'm covering is why its currently ~88,000 words LMAO.

this fic is literally my little monster. it was supposed to be 30k. then it was supposed to be 50k MAX. it is now 88 thousand words long. anyways though i'm enjoying it.

it's a slow burn get together, but it's also a break up & make up fic. the idea is that they dated in high school and then had to break up bc of the distance--but i think they're probably going to get together in the end. the middle is a whole lot of them growing up and figuring out how they can have a healthy friendship even as adults and dealing with loneliness and adulthood on their own and really coming into themselves as people by the time that they get to the olympics.

i just finished parts two and three, which is iwaizumi's years at university. here are some BANGER lines, if i do say so myself:

after oikawa's visit to california, when he has to leave again:

Oikawa smiles at him, and with that, he takes the handle of his suitcase and walks into the airport. Farther and farther and farther away, until he’s disappeared from sight and Iwaizumi is standing alone again, next to the blinking red hazard lights and the sound of other cars’ wheels on cracked concrete.  He gets back into the car. He doesn’t really want to talk to Rich right now, or any one of his other friends or teammates. He kind of just wants to be alone.  So he turns off the hazard lights and puts the car in drive and then he takes the long way home.

when iwaizumi is talking to his friends about oikawa:

“It’s not a big deal,” he tries. “We’ve both moved on. It wouldn’t have lasted while we’re in different countries anyway.”  He does not mention that Oikawa had asked him to wait. He does not mention that he is—he is waiting, and he doesn’t plan on stopping. He doesn’t plan on breaking that promise to come home.  “Ah,” Em says, subdued.

during a drunken NYE call:

Iwaizumi can hear the flinch in Oikawa’s voice. “You miss me?”  “I’m not saying it again,” Iwaizumi says, and it sounds like it’s supposed to be angry, but it just comes out tired and sad. “Of fucking course I do. You’re—” “I’m what?”  Iwaizumi takes a shuddering breath. “You’re so far away, Tooru. You’re so far away and it makes me—fuck, fuck! I shouldn’t have called. I should—” “No!” Oikawa says it instantly, desperately, cutting off any idea that Iwaizumi should go. Which is good because as much as Iwaizumi wants to escape the embarrassment of this phone call, he doesn’t actually want to hang up. He doesn’t actually want to leave Oikawa now. “Stay. Please. Stay with me.”  Iwaizumi pauses for a moment, swallowing down Oikawa’s words and turning them over in his head before saying anything else. “Okay. I’ll stay.” 

anywayssssssss!!! it's been REALLY fun to write, but it's also like. an insane labor of love. this fic was my project for nanowrimo july of LAST YEAR, and it's my project again this year. isn't that crazy. so so so much has gone into this fic its literally driving me up the wall. it haunts my every waking moment and also my dreams.

but yeah i don't have wifi where i'm living for the summer, so i've been writing everything by hand and then typing it all up when i can use a hotspot on my phone. i also have the most amount of free time in my life than i have , like, EVER had in my non-child life. so i get to spend so much time writing, which has been sooooo fun. i am begging the universe to keep me from being burnt out bc i'm genuinely having the time of my life working on this.

ok phone's about to die gotta go. thank you for asking i want to talk about this SO bad. please feel free to ask me. please enable me i'm begging you

[elysianslove]

Please wrote more surrogate fics please . could I request one with SakuAtsu or could you just start a series on these. If you'd me comfortable with that. That on IwaOi surrogate fic brought me so much joy. I can't even describe it.

oh my goodness i’d love to!!! it makes me so happy knowing you liked it cause like,,, idk why it’s just special to me :) also im so glad you asked for sakuatsu bc these two ships are basically my favorite jhfgbsj. and yesyes i’d love to have a mini series with like little scenarios of each ship <333

this was insanely long. like insanely. 

content warning; artificial insemination, pregnancy, haikyuu manga spoilers, gay people being happy idk 

being iwaoi’s surrogate 

BEING SAKUATSU’S SURROGATE 

↬ it took forever to even get them together, so with a duo as indecisive as them, it’s imaginable how long the decision to raise a child together took. it took a long, long while for that transition from enemies to lovers to be final, and even then, they hadn’t realized how serious their relationship was until they were off getting married and then suddenly wanting a child? 

↬ it was something atsumu brought up out of the blue, just casually as they sat side by side on the couch. “wouldn’t it be nice if we raised a child together?” and it stuck with sakusa ever since. he didn’t know why he was obsessively thinking about it as much, but it’s all he could think about. literally. anytime he so much as thought about atsumu with a child, and a child of their own too, his stomach did a thousand and one flips. sakusa was never the biggest fan of children, and he knew that neither was atsumu. but, this would be different, wouldn’t it? Still, he tried to remind himself of the cons; they were pro-athletes, they didn’t have time, they didn’t understand the weight of the responsibility, were they even ready for something like that? somedays it was too tiring to take care of themselves, of each other. were they ready to be responsible for a whole life, someone dependent entirely on them? it seemed too— unrealistic. like something he could only hope to dream about, and just dream about.

↬ until he thought of atsumu with a little kid, a spit image of either one of them, sitting on his lap, giggling and laughing and squealing in glee. and so he decided, there will always be cons, he just has to see if the pros outweighed them. and honestly, they did. they were pro-athletes, sure, but that also meant they were financially stable, and could provide for a child, properly. they were mature now, knew each other very well, and had adapted to living with one another. they had family and friends all around. the kid would for sure grow up loved and cared for, and him and atsumu would add another person to their family. it really seemed like a dream, but this time, an attainable one.

↬ so as he ate dinner with his lover, he blurted out, “let’s raise a child together,” and atsumu honest to god choked on his food. he asked sakusa if he was serious, if he meant it, if this was real, and sakusa’s answer was yes to every single one of his question. yes, he was serious; yes, he meant it; yes, this was real. as real as can be.

↬ they both already knew they wanted a surrogate, and it didn’t matter who was the father. so long as the child was theirs.

↬ finding a surrogate was, well, a pain, to put it into perspective. sakusa was so picky about the “requirements,” if you will, and atsumu was suspicious of every single woman, it was kind of ridiculous really. he just “didn’t trust that they wouldn’t run away with the baby!” in his words. atsumu suggested sakusa’s older sister, which seemed perfect in his head, but sakusa refused, claiming it was 1. extremely weird, and 2. he doubted she’d say yes, with her own life to handle.

↬ and it finally, finally, came to atsumu: he could always just ask, well, you. he had met you during his college years, and since then, he’d been coincidentally crossing paths with you ever since then, and you’d even managed their msby jackals team at some point. it was weirdly ironic how he’s coming back to you, kind of like fate.

↬ so he suggested it to sakusa, and for once, the latter didn’t really have any way to object, except, “what if this inconveniences her?” other than that, you were the perfect candidate. they knew you well, trusted you, knew they could rely on you. and atsumu was sure you wouldn’t run with the baby. with regards to the inconvenience part, well, they could always just deal with that when the time came.

↬ they invited you over for some breakfast two days later, after they’d thought about it properly, endlessly, and figured you were their best option. it was weird seeing them so nervous when you first arrived, like they were breaking up with you or something. atsumu barely ate with how nauseous he felt, and sakusa spent the entire time watching you eat instead, hands fidgeting and legs shaking. it was really weird, but you didn’t bring it up, letting them take their own time to tell you whatever it was they wanted to tell you, because obviously, they clearly had something to say.

↬ after breakfast, you sat in their living room, just watching the tv quietly, until sakusa offered to get you some water. you weren’t really thirsty, but you agreed anyways, unsurprised to see atsumu rise from his own seat a minute later with a, “be right back,” as he headed to the kitchen. you could hear them bickering and whisper-yelling, and if you weren’t starting to grow as nervous as they were, you would’ve had it in you to laugh. they returned looking like they were bearing the most daunting of news, sitting down on the couch perpendicular to you. atsumu’s hands were sweaty and intertwined tightly together, while sakusa tried to remain as composed as possible. it seemed like the dark haired man would speak up, finally, parting his mouth with a deep breath.

↬ but it’s atsumu that blurts out, “please have my baby!— our baby. please have our baby.”

↬ honestly, your first response was to laugh, in disbelief, as you clutch your glass of water. but then you see their faces — god they looked so goddamn scared — and you realized that, they were really serious. they really wanted you to carry their baby for them. holy shit?—

↬ you were mostly speechless after that, stuttering as you ask them to please explain, you’re honored but are they are, have they thought about this? properly? in depth?

↬ to your surprise, they really knew what they were doing. they’d done their research, and thought about a million other options before deciding that you were the best one. they also repeatedly told you that you didn’t have to do this, and that they didn’t want to guilt-trip you into doing it either. they wanted you to say yes only if you yourself wanted to say yes, and if this wouldn’t negatively affect you or halt your life in any way. you were the one that was going to be carrying the baby anyways, weren’t you? at the end of the day, this was all about you.

↬ you asked them for time to think about it, and reminded them that it wasn’t a no. you just wanted to make sure you were making the right decision whichever that ended up being. a few days later, you call them, asking them to meet up one way or another, and atsumu’s even more nervous than he was asking you; not even sakusa’s gentle lips to his temple or large hands soothingly rubbing at his back or his kind words could help him. sakusa himself was insanely anxious. in his head, it seemed like your ‘no,’ would finalize everything. that it would really mean no hope in having a child of their own, their very own.

↬ you invite them over to your home, and the kettle is already boiling when they arrive. you make them tea and make small talk if only to delay the inevitable. but, to each of their surprises, you take a deep breath and say, “i’d be honored to carry your baby for you,” with the brightest, warmest smile. sakusa has to bite his inner cheek to will himself to not cry, because he can’t believe you said yes. you agreed. you’re going to carry their baby. him and atsumu were having a baby.

↬ atsumu doesn’t stop himself from throwing his arms around you, collapsing on top of you in tight hug that you kind of can’t breathe, but you let him, and you laugh when he thanks you for saying yes, that he’ll “be forever in your debt.”

↬ it’s the happiest you’ve seen either of them.

↬ when you’re done with the process of insemination (of course, atsumu does joke that the three of you should go the natural way and have a threesome, to which he earns a smack from his lover and a smack from you, at the same time), the three of you just have to wait, really. it’s the longest period of waiting you’ve ever had to do, but you try to be patient, as patient as you can be. when you wake up one morning and throw up, you look at your period tracking app to see if maybe you were pms’ing. except, you weren’t. you were late. like a good three weeks late.

↬ immediately, you’re booking a doctor’s appointment. you wait to tell sakusa and atsumu after confirming your suspicions, because you don’t want to raise their hopes up for nothing. they’ve already been swimming in a pool of doubts ever since the insemination, calling you everyday to check up on you and ask for any progress. when the doctor confirms your pregnancy — holy shit you were pregnant — the first thing you do is go over to their house. you know it’s not the best idea to show up unannounced, but with how long they’ve been waiting, and how much they’ve been wanting this, the more and more you fed into it, you couldn’t wait any longer to tell them. you arrive, and the moment sakusa opens the door for you, you gasp out, “i’m pregnant.”

↬ sakusa’s quite literally frozen in shock, his mouth pressed in a thin line with eyes wide open, while atsumu walks over and goes, “oh hey,” in greeting before noticing sakusa’s face and just ???? “what’s going on?”

↬ “i’m pregnant.”

↬ “you’re what?”

↬ you show them with tears stinging your eyes the results of the test you’d taken at the doctor’s, and atsumu grips the report so tightly, like it’ll disappear if it slips only slightly from his hands. sakusa’s still in shock, trying to process everything. it takes him a good while before he can function properly again.

↬ the pregnancy itself is a lot smoother than you’d imagined. iwaizumi, as their athletic trainer, although not well versed with pregnancy, knew a lot about health and taking care of yourself in general, so he made sure you were always eating right and healthy. he even accompanied you once when sakusa and atsumu couldn’t, to the doctor, and made sure to ask him specifically what you should and shouldn’t be eating. all of the olympic/national team are more excited than anything. they’re insanely protective over you, and always pamper and care for you you when they can, whether that be back/neck/shoulder massages or giving you their food when they notice you eyeing it or letting you lean entirely on any of them for support as you walk. granted, they do make fun of you, especially the bigger your stomach got, but they mean well, really. suna once made fun of you and, because of the hormones, and because he was genuinely just mean, you started to cry. since then, suna swore off bullying you, at least until you gave birth.

↬ osamu is beyond ecstatic to become an uncle. he’s so excited it makes atsumu incredibly emotional. he goes with his brother on trips to ikea to buy a crib and gifts him an insane amount of baby clothes and always begins a conversation with, “how’s the baby?” every time you’re around, osamu’s hand can be found resting on your stomach, soothingly rubbing, excitedly grinning when he feels a kick. he is just so happy for his brother, he could cry.

↬ you ask them if they want a gender reveal when you find out or to keep it until the delivery of the baby, but they’re both insanely impatient (even though sakusa does try to convince atsumu to wait because it’ll be exciting, he himself isn’t even that convinced of that and they just ask you to tell them). with the help of osamu and his and atsumu’s parents, you organize a gender reveal party. the moment he sees the pink smoke, atsumu cheers so loudly it makes you laugh till your stomach hurt. sakusa’s grinning wider than you’ve ever seen him, grabbing atsumu’s face and kissing him, before pulling you into a tight hug. it’s literally the cutest thing ever, everyone just cheering loudly around you and celebrating with you.

↬ when you go into labor, you’re with neither of them, but with osamu, aran, and kita. they were staying the night at a hotel since they had training away from where they lived, and you were spending the night at osamu’s because the fathers of your baby really didn’t want you to be alone so close to your due date, and who better than osamu? your water didn’t break, but you kept having contractions. you were brushing it off as normal pain at the start, but they started to get worse, and closer together in time. kita, because he’s kita, had been keeping track, and told you how far apart your contractions were. to which you went, “contractions?!”

↬ aran’s calling sakusa and atsumu as kita grabs your bag as osamu grabs his keys and helps you to his car. you really couldn’t have been around a better set of men, because they were perfectly composed the whole time, helping you breathe and stay calm by staying calm themselves, reassuring you that you didn’t need to worry and that you will get to the hospital in time. they did flinch every time you screamed or cried out in pain, but aran held your hand the entire drive there, and kita guided you to steadying yourself as osamu drove as fast as he could.

↬ the issue was with sakusa and atsumu. to say they were freaking out would be an understatement. they were positively losing it. atsumu’s anxiety was louder than sakusa’s, but the latter’s was clear as ever on his pale skin and clammy hands. they were so annoying in the delivery room, literally faring worse off than you, who was pushing a whole baby out of her body. when you finally gave birth to a healthy baby girl, atsumu sobbed and sakusa cried in his hands, so maybe it was alright after all.

↬ they literally couldn’t believe their eyes when the nurse handed you the baby and placed her on your chest. she was so, so tiny, so beautiful, and theirs. honestly, you couldn’t hold back your own tears at the sight of her, and at their reaction to her. you held her in your arms as they thanked you, over and over and over again, for the biggest blessing they could ever receive.

↬ despite the fact that you were simply their surrogate, sakusa and atsumu knew they couldn’t just separate you and your baby, and neither could they just take her home all of a sudden. so for the first few months, you stayed in their guest room, but the baby slept in her own room. it was more difficult than you expected it to be when you were leaving her to go back to your own home, but they promised you repeatedly that they’re not really taking her away. it wasn’t as if you couldn’t visit at any time you wanted to come visit her. but at the end of the day, you knew what you had been signing up for, and that she was their daughter.

↬ she grows up to be a gorgeous woman. she’s interested in volleyball, sure, she’d been raised with volleyball players everywhere around her, but it’s not her immediate passion. atsumu thought he’d be more upset about that than he actually was, because he found out that it didn’t matter at all what she wanted to do. hell, if she wanted to do nothing at all and stay home forever with them, he was 100% on board with that. whatever made her happy and healthy, he was okay with. she grows up to be really close and really comfortable with both of her fathers, and they make sure with every passing day that no matter what, she can always come to them. and she does, about every little thing. and each and every time, they listen and advice and guide her properly. a s parents, they’re a perfect balance of strict and lenient. they set and raise her to never cross those boundaries, but otherwise they give her complete freedom. they respect her privacy, her decisions, everything.

↬ there was a day when she came back home from school, and they had taken a biology class for kids, where a teacher had explained periods to them. obviously, as curious as ever, she’d asked her dads about it, because she didn’t really get it. she wanted to know the how’s and the why’s and the what’s and the when’s. with every passing second atsumu had felt his lifespan shorten. eventually he suggested they call you, who she knew as her ‘aunt’ for the time being, since you were a woman and nobody would really explain it better than you. when she did get her period eventually, and had to sheepishly and shyly ask her dads to go to the store for her because she needed, um, supplies, atsumu lost it. sakusa had to try and calm him down all while laughing as he got ready to go to the store for her, because the drama of miya atsumu never gets old. he just couldn’t believe she was already getting her period. what the hell! what the actual hell!

↬ of course, he proceeded to embarrass her by telling osamu, telling sakusa’s parents, telling his parents. not cool :(

↬ when she was old enough, especially to understand the concept of being a surrogate (oh my god the sex talk was a whole other insufferable thing), they told her about you, and that you were actually her biological mother and not just an ‘auntie.’ she tried to be angry at them for keeping it from her, but she was honestly more excited about finding out than anything. it brought the two of you closer together, and for the next mother’s day, she organized a whole brunch for you, her and her dads, got you a gift, flowers, everything. yeah, you did cry.

↬ you genuinely have never been more satisfied and thankful for a decision like this one, ever, especially because of how much of a blessing the outcome had been.

can u tell this isn’t my first time thinking about this. ever since i posted the iwaoi one i’ve been wanting to do a sakuatsu one, but i didn’t really know whether anyone had enjoyed that or would want more, so thank you for sending in this ask!! love u all mwah <3 

[interrogatethecat]

Preserved

word count: 1.3k

dean is an old man so he gets to struggle with technology. I don’t make the rules, I just follow them. read the rest below the cut or on ao3!

Museums had always been Sam’s thing. After he finished school, the kid would beg Dean to drop him off downtown wherever the nearest one was. Dean would make sure to scrape together enough change for Sam to get in, and he’d pick him up before closing. The last time he did that, Dean was, what? Seventeen? Eighteen? God knows that he never thought he’d be paying to get into a museum again, yet here he is, forty three, and paying for not one, but two tickets.

“That’ll be fourteen seventy six,” the bored looking teen at the desk says.

“Thanks,” Dean says.

The guy holds out two bright orange wristbands. “Hours end at six. These will get you into IMAX and the butterfly garden. Please don’t touch anything. Have a nice day.”

Dean grabs them and offers a quick “you too,” before he’s ducking off to the side.

Cas barely notices when Dean grabs his arm to fix the bracelet on him; already, he’s looking around, peering over Dean’s shoulder to squint at the nearest exhibits. He waits while Dean takes care of his own bracelet.

Dean finishes fastening it before looking back at his boyfriend. “So, man, where are we going first?”

“The dinosaur exhibit,” Cas says immediately, and before Dean knows it, Cas is taking him by the hand and pulling him along.

The first thing they stop by is the fucking humongous skeleton of some flying creature. It’s suspended from the ceiling, wings (arms?) extended in flight. A tyro— tero-something, Dean thinks he remembers.

“Pteranodon,” Cas says, like he’s reading Dean’s mind. “From the Cretaceous period. This one is small for its species.”

“Small?” Dean repeats, disbelieving.

“Yes,” Cas says, studying it intently. “Their wingspans could get up to twenty three feet, though if Gabriel had his way, they would have been even bigger.”

Dean switches from gawking at the pteranodon to gawking at him. “Dude.”

“I don’t know why this surprises you,” Cas says. He’s clearly amused. “You’ve faced God and yet a fossil renders you speechless.”

“I said ‘dude,’” Dean argues weakly, but he’s already being pulled to the next exhibit. He’s able to name it as a stegosaurus and grins widely when Cas tells him he’s right. Then goes right back to gaping when Cas keeps talking, going so far as to correct the information on the informational sign.

Holy shit. His ex-celestial boyfriend is a walking encyclopedia. He’s more qualified than whichever oldass historian who wrote the little blurb on the usage of a stegosaurus’ plates.

When he says this, Cas says, “I was there. I am more qualified.”

“Alright, Grandpa.” Dean rolls his eyes. “Forgot for a minute that you were one of the fossils, too.”

“Does that mean you’re into older men?” Cas asks, and now Dean’s the one pulling Cas away to the next pile of bones. He ignores Cas’ pleased little smirk and points at the skeleton.

“You wanna ID this guy, Dr. Grant?”

The look Cas gives him tells him that there’s no way he’s living this down, but mercifully, he answers and goes onto an unfairly adorable tangent about a dilophosaurus he possessed during the early Jurassic.

And that’s how they continue throughout the rest of the museum. Dean points to a skeleton or a vase or picture and Cas will spout off whatever he knows about it. In the Egyptian Wing, it’s a story about the one time Balthazar and Horus played a game of high stakes poker (half of the heavenly host had to dress in drag for a century and Horus never let them forget it). An old piece of parchment in the Medieval Wing and he’s going on about the one time a guy bought land in England for twenty-six-thousand-and-some eels. Cas sees a collection of bugs preserved in amber and Dean listens to him ramble excitedly about prehistoric insects for a solid twenty minutes. If he were here with Sam, there’s no doubt in his mind that he’d be begging to leave, or at least get a snack. Instead, he’s content to listen to Cas talk about his bugs and eels and dinosaurs for however long he wants, because sappy as it is, he loves the way Cas seems lighter like this. Happy.

Ultimately, that’s how Cas convinces him to go into the butterfly garden. The moment he catches sight of their brightly colored wings through the glass, his eyes brighten, and Dean finds himself pulling Cas inside.

In all honesty, he doesn’t understand the guy’s obsession with bees or anything that flies, but the pleased smile on his face more than makes up for it.

Dean barely notices the room at first— warm and covered with green, tropical potted plants— too focused on that smile, until something big and yellow flies right in front of his face. He jerks backwards reflexively.

“That was a western tiger swallowtail,” Cas tells him. “They’re harmless.”

Dean squeezes his hand and Cas squeezes back. “Harmless. Got it.”

“Generally, butterflies have no ability to harm humans, unless you eat one,” Cas says.

“Why the hell would I eat one?” Dean says.

Cas doesn’t answer, because this is the moment when the butterflies decide to take more interest in him. A blue one touches down in his hair, and then another one flutters past Dean to cling to his shoulder before beginning to explore his arm. Cas watches them almost reverently, the corners of his lips turning up softly.

It’s the kind of smile Dean’s always trying to get out of him and he grins when he sees it. It’s the kind of smile he wants to save, to tuck away and keep safe for as long as he can. The kind that turns his stomach into a butterfly exhibit (though maybe he won’t be using that metaphor now that he’s learned butterflies are apparently poisonous).

He reaches for the phone in his pocket, and that’s when he realizes that he and Cas have been holding hands this whole time. From Cas dragging him towards the pteranodon to now, neither of them have let go.

“Cas,” he says regretfully, because holding hands for the past two and a half hours has actually been really nice, “mind if I borrow my hand?”

“Yes,” Cas says. He holds Dean’s a little bit closer, never looking away from his elbow, the new location of the black and red one from his shoulder.

“I wanna get a picture!” Dean says.

“Use your other hand,” Cas suggests. “This one is mine.”

“I can’t take a picture with one hand,” Dean protests. You need one hand to hold the phone, the other to press the button. If Cas can sprout obscure trivia facts about the eating habits of cavemen, he should know this. He starts to pull back his hand. “Just for a second—“

“No,” Cas says, and Dean’s right back where he started. “Claire can take pictures with one hand. I have faith in your ability to figure it out.”

Dean curses under his breath as he uses his free hand to pull out his phone. He fumbles it a little opening the camera and getting it into position

When Cas looks from the butterfly on his arm to Dean, he beams, and now Dean feels unreasonably proud of himself for getting this far without dropping his phone. He shifts his grip on it, hovers his finger over the button, and taps.

There’s a click, and this ridiculous moment is preserved, like the rest of the things here in this museum. With a little more difficulty, he taps into his camera roll.

It’s a good picture, is the first thing Dean thinks. Cas’ eyes are crinkled as he grins, the two butterflies have their wings spread, and sometime while Dean was dealing with the phone another blue one showed up. The other people in the garden managed to stay out of the background. The lighting isn’t awful, Cas’ face isn’t covered in shadow. And in the bottom corner of the picture, he’s holding Dean’s hand.

It’s a damn good picture. His old man technological struggle was worth it.

“You look happy,” Cas notices.

Was “happy” a word Dean ever thought he’d use in a museum? No. But—

“Yeah,” Dean says, smiling. “Tell me about your butterflies?”

And Cas does.

tag list: @ccstiel @starrynightdeancas @floral-cas @castielsbeeslippers @dune-echo @gayhuckleberryinatrenchcoat @fellshish @bestiarum @top13zepptraxx @linaraiscorner @theedorksinlove @destiel-is-canon-i-guess @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie

let me know if you want to be added or removed!

[archived-kin]

caught in a twin courtship

note from kin: i’m going to be honest i only really wrote this because the title is fun to say, so it isn’t as cohesive as i normally would have wanted to make it

(this is an au where the twins aren’t separated by the unknown god! instead, just their world-hopping powers were stolen, and that’s why they’re journeying to find said god - to get their powers back so that they can go home. i’ve also excluded paimon since i kind of forgot about her while writing this haha)

(this doesn’t follow canon at all since reader and the twins just kind of start wandering about after the dvalin incident rather than heading straight for liyue oops)

fandom: genshin impact

character(s): gn!reader, lumine, aether, diluc, venti, jean

pairing(s): aether/reader/lumine

warning(s): i don’t think so??

genre: fluff with a little bit sprinkling of angst

you first meet the twins in the aftermath of the stormterror battle. it isn’t a glamorous introduction by any means - it’s pretty unflattering, actually - but it definitely makes a powerful first impression.

the group - aether, lumine, venti, diluc, and jean - are on their way back to mondstadt city, making small talk here and there, but mostly just walking in silence.

then they hear a yell in the distance.

jean and lumine both drop into a battle stances, venti leaps to hide behind aether with a very unmanly squeak of fear… but diluc, who arguably should have been the most alerted by this occurrence, just gives a resigned sigh and pauses.

a split second later, a figure comes speeding up to the group. you barrel up to diluc and immediately punch him square in the stomach, yelling “why didn’t you tell me you were going after stormterror?!”

aether and venti both give matching gasps of horror at the blatant disrespect, but diluc only shakes his head and catches your fist as it goes for another blow, this one aimed at his chest, and chastises, “calm down, i left a note.”

“i left a note,” you mimic, an absolutely awful impression that has you sounding more like a mosquito than the darknight hero, “fat lot of use that is when you aren’t even telling me where you’re going!”

diluc evades another jab at his arm and firmly sets his hands on both your shoulders, effectively anchoring you to the ground. you contemplate swinging your feet at his knees and knocking him over, or maybe shocking him with your electro vision, but ultimately decide that you might as well try to preserve what little dignity you have left in front of those three people you’ve never met before

so you stop with a defeated sigh and turn to face said three people to introduce yourself

it turns out that you’re diluc’s cousin and he’s been having to baby-sit you for the last few years after your own parents left on a ‘business trip’ to snezhnaya that they’re still not back from

you’re pretty sure they’re dead, killed by the fatui, and you say as much during your introduction without even the slightest sign of distress, which is a little unsettling

lumine’s first thought is that you’re quite the interesting character, what with the casual way you treat diluc, and how you don’t seem to question whatever situation lead you to meet in the first place

aether’s first thought is holy shit, they’re cute

one twin greets you in return with a lot more enthusiasm than the other, and venti the bard wastes no time in asking whether you have access to good master diluc’s wine storage

(you’d be shocked by the audacity if you weren’t just as bad as him when it came to shamelessness)

strangely enough, the fact that aether likes you so much actually makes lumine more wary of you than she was initially

aether trusts too easily, and from experience, that usually leads to disaster - and your flippancy regarding your parents’ apparent probable deaths rather inclines her to think that you might be a very dangerous person indeed

the three of you don’t see each other for a couple of days after that - you and diluc leave for dawn winery together, while the twins depart with venti to wrap their whole situation up, and jean returns to her duties in mondstadt city

all this time, apparently unbeknownst to even himself, aether keeps finding ways to bring you up in the middle of conversation

you’d only spoken to him for a few minutes and somehow that as enough to get him absolutely fascinated

lumine would be lying if she said she wasn’t still curious about you as well, but it gets annoying after aether somehow manages to mention how ‘mysterious’ your black cloak is in the middle of a conversation about why mitachurls are able to randomly set their axes on fire

luckily for these two, they happen to run into you the very next day!

you’re in the middle of taking out a ruin guard stomping around the thousand winds temple -  a ruin guard that the twins had been meaning to take down themselves, which is why they’re here in the first place

at first they move to help you, only to stop short and watch in awe as you plunge down at the ruin guard from atop one of the enormous pillars, your polearm held steady in your grasp as your entire body seems to spark and glow with a deep purple electro energy

the sharp blade of your polearm goes clean through the top of the ruin guard’s head and shatters its core, and it sinks to the ground with a massive thud that echoes around the temple ruins, massive wooden limbs twitching and jerking as the last of your vision’s energy disperses from it

aether and lumine are basically star-struck

from there you spot them and call them over for a conversation, show them how to take apart a ruin guard’s circuits to get at the good parts, and somehow end up agreeing to journey with them across teyvat in their search for an unknown god who stole their abilities to hop from world to world as well as their apparent true power that allows them to wield all seven elements at once

the details are a little lost on you, but what you’re hearing is that you get to go on a cool adventure with a cool gal and a cool lad, so you’re pretty much all for it

diluc isn’t too happy about you up and leaving without so much as two week’s notice (partially because he has literally no friends apart from you and he’d get lonely without his little cousin bothering him all the time) but you simply tell him to deal with it and go anyway

(you do give him a big hug and promise to visit, you’re not heartless)

from then on you, aether and lumine become a dynamic trio like no other

it’s actually pretty damn spooky how well the three of you end of working together

aether and lumine had long since formed a style of fighting that meant they made up for each other’s weak spots and could attack in perfect sync, but then you come along and somehow manage to make their already pretty flawless formation even better

is it witchcraft? they honestly don’t know

considering you fit so well into their battle strategies, it follows that you’d also slot perfectly into their every day life

lumine is cautious at first, wondering if your presence would disrupt her and her brother’s long since pre-established routines, but you fit in so naturally that it’s as if you were there all long

maybe it it’s this that makes both twins slowly start falling for you - the comfort of being beside you and the familiarity that you bring are things that they struggled to find, being trapped in a world far from their own with no way to get out, and they unknowingly latch onto you like drowning men clutching lifebuoys

aether is the most obvious about his feelings - he starts waking up earlier just because he knows you do, sitting beside you as you stoke a campfire and keep watch for any approaching monsters, making quiet conversation as lumine continues sleeping. he tells you stories about his adventures in other worlds, including an encounter with a rather bigoted individual who is the reason that he keeps his hair so long while lumine’s has been cut short

he even starts taking his hair out of its braid before he goes to sleep so that he can ask you to braid it for him when he wakes up

lumine is a lot more subtle

she finds excuses to stand closer to you when, deliberately brushing her fingers against yours when handing you something. she listens far more attentively to you when you speak than anyone else, and she smiles far more in your presence, hanging onto your every word and gazing at you so intensely that it’s almost unsettling

of course, the twins notice each other’s feelings pretty easily

at first neither acknowledges it - it’d be far too messy for both to accept that they’d both fallen in love with the same person, let alone actually admit this to each other

but it gets to the point where it just isn’t ignorable anymore, and finally the twins decide to talk

it’s about as civil and sensible as they could hope for with the subject at hand, and they eventually decide to talk to you about it

and so, we come to an ultimatum. what will your choice be?

if you reject both, it’ll be hard to continue adventuring with twins who can’t look in your direction. neither resent you, of course, but the atmosphere has become so stifling that they can’t even make eye contact

it’s as if an enormous gap has opened up between the three of you. the twins are avoiding each other as well, unsure of how to handle the fact that they’re both in love with the same person and have now both been rejected by that same person. if anything, they should be becoming closer out of solidarity, but it seems that they can’t stand to be in each other’s presence as much as they can’t stand to be in yours.

the three of you still work together as seamlessly in battle as you did before, but once the final monster has been cut down and your weapons are sheathed, that connection seems to disappear again.

it’s aether who finally breaks the stalemate. he starts trying to start conversations as the three of you sit awkwardly apart from each other around a fire, and while the first few attempts end in stony silence and an awkward cough on his part, eventually you begin replying with some semblance of the humour you used to

from there things only improve - the three of you come to a silent mutual agreement to leave this behind you, and soon you’re all laughing and joking as you used to

lumine and aether both know that they cannot force you to love either of them, and they respect your choice. if anything, they’re the ones in the wrong for springing something like this on you so suddenly, and they start to feel a little guilty that they were essentially pressuring you into making a choice that you were never obligated to make

so they return to treating you as a dear friend, just as before. things are different now, of course, but they can only be grateful that you continue to travel with them and stay by their side; this situation doesn’t make them love you any less, even if you don’t love them in the same way.

if you choose lumine, aether will be understanding. the twins have been each other’s only support for longer than they can remember, and as the older brother, he’s well used to giving things up for his sister.

he’ll still be friendly and amicable, but he won’t seek you out as much as he did before. he starts braiding his hair by himself again, and stays in bed as late as he can every morning so that he doesn’t have to be face to face with you. just because he’s accepted this doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt.

sometimes, when the sky grows dark and you and lumine have long since fallen asleep beside each other, he wonders to himself - why is it that he has to give everything to his sister? he’s given away so much, so why couldn’t the universe let him have this one thing?

but he knows, deep down, that this is nothing to do with the universe - you simply fell in love with someone that wasn’t him, his sister at that, and he’s struggling to come to terms with it.

he wants to hate you, hate lumine, hate the relationship that the two of you have formed, but he just can’t. he loves the both of you in different ways that are just as important as each other, and he can’t stand to lose either of you. he’d rather throw himself off of starsnatch cliff.

so he’ll smile and bear it, even if it’s a battle to keep himself from breaking down every time he sees the two of you lace your hands together, off in your own little word, so near and yet so far from him.

if you choose aether, lumine will become cold. at first, that is. she’s never been as empathetic as her brother, always holding grudges and developing dislike much more easily. it had taken a lot for her to open up to you in the first place, and now that you’ve rejected her, it’s going to take a while for her to return to the same camaderie with you that she had before.

lumine does not begrudge aether for being the one you chose. if anything, she’s glad - aether is always putting her first and himself second, and she’s happy that he has someone like you, who lights his eyes up in a way that she’s never seen before.

but our hearts often betray our mind, after all, and lumine can’t help but scowl and turn away every time she sees her brother wrap his arms around your waist or press a kiss to your cheek. despite her best efforts, all she can think is why? why did you have to choose him?

she can’t bring herself to hate you, though. as much as it feels like her heart is threatening to split down the middle when she sees you smile and is reminded of something that she cannot have, there is an equal joy in the fact that her brother can be with the person that he loves so dearly. if anything, the two of you deserve to be happy together.

lumine would never do anything that could take that away, and so she forces herself to accept it. it takes several days of tentative conversation and barely held back tears, but eventually the two of you seem to return to the way you were before - all friendly jabs and light-hearted banter and little jokes exchanged over crossed blades.

but lumine knows that your friendship can never be quite the same as it was before. she’ll forever be holding you at arm’s length, terrified to let you get too close lest you see how much your presence affects her. she can’t let you know how much she loves you because she will never be the one who links hands with you as you walk down a long, winding path, or the one who holds you close under a darkening sky filled with stars - because that person is aether, and she would sooner die before she takes her brother’s happiness away.

if you refuse to choose, the twins will be at a loss at what to do. they hadn’t considered this scenario - that you had somehow come to love both of them.

the confusion becomes joy soon enough, though. they realise what this means - they both love you, and you love both of them! isn’t this perfect?

neither are particularly thrilled at the concept of ‘sharing’ you with the other, so to speak, but in the end they both equally want each other to be happy as they want you to be, so the logical conclusion is that they both become your partners.

they’re not too sure how this should work, nor what sort of label to put on it, but they come to you tentatively with the idea anyway

to their joyous surprise, you agree!

and from then marks the point of no return…

aether is definitely the clingier of the two. once he realises that he’s allowed to show affection and be close to you for no particular reason, he won’t stop - it’s as if he absolutely has to be holding your hand or be standing or sitting  as close to you as physically possible. he’s always buying you souvenirs at every place you stop by, scaling trees to pick apples for you when you mention a craving for fruit, presenting you little treasures that he’s found with all the pride of a golden retriever.

lumine is a more subdued kind of partner, preferring to demonstrate her feelings with little things like making your favourite food for dinner or bringing you sprigs of flowers that she’s secretly been collecting in order to present you with them. of course, that doesn’t mean she isn’t physically affectionate at all - she presses perhaps even closer to you than aether when you sleep beside her, and somehow her hand finds yours at every opportunity she has.

the twins clash every now and then, as siblings often do, except that you’re usually caught in the middle. their arguments are little more than playful squabbles, though - things like play-fighting over who gets to hug you first after a well-fought battle, or who gets to hold your hand on the way to the next village (you have to step in and remind them that you do, in fact, have two hands)

in conclusion: why choose one when you can have both and prevent the unchosen from having endless amounts of angst?

[sirthisisa-wendys]

(okay hol' up, i just followed you recently despite visiting your blog for over a month now, but you followed me back and i'm short-circuiting) Congrats on 1K! Thought I'd send in an idea for the event - something lukewarm for Priest!Toji and a Witch!Reader? I'm thinking 1600s trial vibes but I know whatever you write will be dope <3

You said 1600's trial vibes and I heard the ghost of Victor Hugo go "hey you remember that one book I wrote" and I said "uh wasn't that set in the 1400s, though" and he said "mmmkay, so? you gonna write this shit or not?"

So here I am.

Bewitched: Preist!Toji Fushiguro x Witch!Fem!Reader

wc: 1.1k

tw: NSFW

1K Follower Event Masterlist

"Recite verses from the Holy Book, take the sacrament, and I will let you go."

You turn your head away from the priest, who is holding out the cracker and wine.

"I cannot do that. It is a--"

"Against your religion!" The priest finishes for you, throwing the wine and cracker onto the floor. You flinch, feeling the wine splatter the tips of your bare toes. "And why have you given your soul to the devil? What does he hold over you that cannot be forgiven by God?" The broad-chested man reaches a hand out to touch your chin with his crooked index finger, but you step back, keeping your eyes on the stone floor of the chapel.

"I have not sold my soul to the devil," you reply, gripping your hands by your sides. "I am not a dark witch."

"Please do not tell me you think there good witches or bad witches," he laughs, stepping over the mess he just made and advancing upon you in the robes befit for a holy king. "A witch is a witch. And you will be hung or burned at the stake if I say so."

"Then kill me," you gripe. "But you will suffer the wrath of a thousand others if you do."

"You are ill," he pleads with you, his green eyes searching your face earnestly. "Come, be saved by the power of God and--"

"Your god does not exist," you retort, but you can't seem to catch the hand that strikes out at your face. You stumble against a pew, bringing a hand up to your face.

"Blasphemy! Repent, witch, or you will burn in Hell for eternity!"

I've got one last trick, you think to yourself. One last option. But I would be breaking my own rules to do it. The priest continues to advance on you, and you muster up the last bit of magic you can to cast a final spell. You don't even need to speak, the thought of the old words is enough.

At first, you don't think the spell has taken effect, but when the priest stops and blinks three times, you inhale deeply, hoping the effect of the love spell is strong enough to save you.

The priest stares at you for a long time before exhaling shakily, clasping his hands together. "I would be remiss if I did not permit you to take sanctuary here for the evening," he finally murmurs, mesmerized. "You are welcome to stay in the comfort of my chambers." He swallows hard, and you nod, silently thanking your magic for the quick solution.

_____________________________________________________________

"Shall I call for someone to light the fireplace? I would hate for you to catch a chill."

"I'm fine," you whisper, curling under the sheets in the large four-poster bed. "Thank you." The priest has changed out of his vestments, now clothed in simple pair of pants, and his black hair is visible, laying against his forehead as he settles into the chair beside the bed.

There are only three other women in your situation - witches who have bewitched priests who sought to murder them. You vowed as a young witch to never put yourself in this situation, for the risk of the spell not working was higher than the reward of it actually taking effect in the way you want it to. But it seems this priest already had wavering faith, which strengthened the hold of your magic on him. He looks at you with a lost puppy gaze, the scar on his lips parting as he drinks in your visage in his bed.

"Your scar," you whisper, reaching your hand out to touch it. "Where did you get it from?" The priest kisses your fingers, then murmurs,

"A witch scarred me as a child when she attacked my family." You hum, frowning.

"I am sorry to hear that. Such a malicious act for no reason..." The brutish man leans into your palm, and you stroke his face as he sighs.

"May I join you in the bed? Feel free to say no."

"You may." In the waning light of the sun, the priest climbs into the bed with you, wrapping a strong arm around your figure.

Before he blows the candles out, he whispers, "Goodnight, my love."

And the lights go out.

_____________________________________________________________

Your hips bang against the dresser as Toji rocks into you, his muscled body hovering above yours.

"Excellent... sermon today," you moan, leaning your head back. You don't really think it was an excellent sermon, but his infatuation grows stronger every single time you praise him.

"Enough about that," he whispers, leaning down to kiss you. "I love coming back to your embrace. You're so perfect..."

For the past three months, you've been living in the church and carrying on a relationship with the priest inside. And you have to admit, beyond his staunch and unmoved exterior, Toji is softer than you ever imagined he would be.

"I'm gonna cum..." he whispers, bracing himself for the sensation. "Oh, my--" The hiss Toji lets out is divine, and the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you is just as amazing.

"Toji, that feels so good..." you moan, and he laughs, kissing down your neck.

"You love it when I cum inside of you, huh?" You nod, kissing him again as he carries you to the bed, covering you with the sheets and smoothing your hair away from your face. "I love you."

"I love you, too," you admit, touching his face before curling up and drifting off to sleep.

But you awake in the middle of the night, and upon finding the other side of the bed cold, you sit up and look around the room. "Toji?" You slide out of bed, feeling the stickiness between your legs but ignoring it and wrapping yourself in a shirt discarded on the floor. You open the doors to your shared chambers and walk through the church, peeking around every corner and even daring to look in the confessional box. But there's nothing.

And then you hear a soft whispering, and you creep into the main sanctuary, seeing Toji kneeling at the altar. You hold your breath to hear him better, and you pick up the words,

"Forgive me, Lord, for lying with a witch... I cannot be parted from her, and she believes she has cast a spell upon me... and in essence she has. But I am sure if I remain by her side, she will be converted and--" You turn quickly and rush back to your chambers, sliding back into the bed, shaking.

No, you hadn't truly escaped. Your magic hadn't worked.

Toji had bewitched you, and now, you couldn't leave him.

[grantiskeith]

Baby Wolf Cub (Davidxreader) Part 2

I don't know about anyone else, but this stopped being about ASMR a long time ago. Redacted's storytelling ability and world-building skills are fantastic. I would 100% read a book if he wrote one.

Here is part 2 of the first fic I have ever written.

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: dad vibes, blood, gunshot

"Hello?" I picked up my ringing phone "what! Who is this!" David picked his head off the floor, ears perking up. The little pup yawned and stretched against David's fur.

"Where? Tonight?" Click. 11:14 pm. David shifted back into his human self which prompted the sleeping cub into a sleeping baby with its butt in the air. "What's going on?"

I dialed another number without answering him."Milo, hey I need you to come over. It's an emergency. No, no one's hurt but we need your help. Yeah, thanks"

Click. "They followed me from Chicago, they want the kid back." I walked to the little one one and bent over to pick him up. David stuck his hand out in front of mine.

"Don't touch him, let him sleep. Shifting takes magic and doing it as often as he is would be exhausting for a full grown adult. He'll figure it out, but he needs sleep. Now what the hell are you talking about? Who called? Stop! don't put your jacket on"

"I don't know who, all I know is that there's a lead on the corner of South and Maple and I'm going to figure out what's going on." I did put my jacket down but only to grab a light blanket off the couch and draped it over the baby's legs.

"Angel, that's too dangerous, they could be vampires or murderers or..."

"They're most likely kidnappers, which is why we need to stop them"

"Listen to yourself! You're not Sherlock Holmes, you're not Batman"

Angel put his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes, "you're just a fragile human and you need to stay here and be safe."

"It's not your job to protect me"

"Actually it is. As soon as you became my mate you became part of the pack. As the Alpha and your mate it is my duty to take care of you" he backed up from me and rubbed his hands over his face. "I love you Angel! I would give my life for you without question"

"I would never ask you to!" I said that a little louder than I should and the baby turned over before it started crying. I went over to pick him up but David got to him first and subtly bounced him on his hip.

"Why are you putting something so special to me in harm's way? You are a fucking danger to yourself and the more you get involved in these messes the more likely you are to put me and my pack in the line of fucking fire. There are things about the magic world that you don't understand and there are more threats than you can see. Let's ignore that call and just take this trouble maker to the department."

I put my head down to the floor. It was late and I was tired. Almost a half tempting offer. But there was a mystery to be solved here and possibly a larger crime.

"Sitting in bed and watching tv does not help anyone," I told him. "I am the mate of one of the most influential wolf pack's alpha. You know I'm tough or else you know I wouldn't last long. I was made of something durable and built for being more than a fucking house wife!"

David put the baby on the couch and laid the blanket out next to him. Carefully, he wrapped the little one up into a burrito and scooped him up to cradle him.

"Before you go and get your life sucked out by a damn shade or something. Throw a cup of milk in the microwave for a few seconds" David said, sitting down on the couch.

"Uh sure" I said. "I am not a complete dumbass, I know I shouldn't go alone. If you won't come and back me up then I will ask Milo." I handed him a lukewarm glass. "How did you get so good with infants anyway?"

Silence from David. I hate it when he just shuts down. He propped the baby up against his chest and titled the cup up until the little one could drink.

"Instinct, basic life skills, common fucking sense. All things you don't possess, clearly" he put the cup down on the table. And took a deep breath. "My dad… he would make me help out new moms in the pack. He used to say I needed to spend time with women since my mom wasn't around. It was a way of helping the pack feel more like a family"

I sat down next to him. Coat on, shoes on, ready to jump out the door.

"Angel, I have lost so damn much. Just from life already being as fucking dangerous as it is. If something happened to you... I just... I don't know what I would do... I fucking..."

I cut him off, "I know. I love you too. Unmistakable fact of life. I love you."

A knock at the door, "hey guys it's me." I got up and opened it to Milo's anxious face, "What's wrong, that's the emer.. Holy shit! is that yours" Milo stared in disbelief.

"Yes, it is, in the 48 hours I was gone I went and had a werewolf baby and now you're the designated sitter so we can go make another one" I was monotone in my sarcasm. I stepped out the door, "you coming Davey?"

David carefully slipped the baby into Milo's arms, "support the head and neck here," I heard him say. "Yeah, remember when we used to do this with Ginny's baby a few years back?"

He grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair and followed me "of course I'm coming you dumbass." He yelled down the hall at me, "Oh Milo, if he starts whimpering just shift and lay with him, he's docile. There's warm milk on the table and more in the fridge if he's crying. He didn't mind the couch but feel free to lay him on the bed"

"Let's go!" I yelled to David down the hallway.

"What the fuck is going on" was the last thing I heard Milo say before David shut the door.

South and Maple was a quiet intersection, although most are at the ungodly hour of 2am. Surrounded by three or four story buildings with alleyways and parked cars. There was no shortage of places to hide or spy down on the intersection. David and I stepped onto an alley between two buildings to discuss a plan. Unfortunately we didn't get the time.

"Where is he?"

We both turned to a tall lanky woman at the end of the alley. She was dressed in a pantsuit, real realtor vibes. Two men ran around the corner and took their place behind her. David growled but I put my hand out in front of him, "hold back" I whispered.

"Who are you and what do you want? Where are the parents?" I yelled down the alley.

"Where? Honey probably at the bottom of the the lake considering the rocks tied to their ankles"

David started growling again but I told him again to wait. This conversation was not violent yet.

"You stole that baby!" I accused

"Baby?" She laughed, "that was not a baby, what you have hidden somewhere is a freak circus animal that many are willing to pay hundreds of thousands of dollars for."

"You bitch!" I yelled

"I have bids lined up" the men besides her both shifted in werewolves which prompted David to do the same. The sudden magic and chaos of growling and barking filled the air. David was significantly larger than the other two but he was outnumbered. There was a mix of growling, barking, and biting. I was bewildered that I didn't even hear the shot. The lady whistled and both the other wolves ran to join her. They walked around the corner.

David shook himself off and ran to follow. Water fell down the side of my leg. Water? I looked up trying to find a leaking gutter or rain. No rain. I looked down and saw a red stain on the side of my shirt growing. I balled up a chunk of shirt and held it against my side.

"Davey'' my voice cracked. "Davey!" I couldn't get it to be as loud as I needed. My left ear started ringing loudly. My head was full of sawdust and my vision became the static of an old tv. I felt a hand over my own behind me. Fuck, Davey. Where did he come from?

"Can you ..." was all I heard before I felt my knees give out. David picked me up bridal style and ran to the end of the alleyway. I heard the car door open and the next thing I saw was the ceiling over the back seat. David climbed in the back with me and shut and locked the door.

"Just.. drive" fuck, talking hurt.

"Classic triage Angel, stabilize then transport." He tried to move my hand away from the wet spot I was holding.

"It doesn't hurt that bad! Just drive" I was using whatever I had left to keep him away.

"That's cause you're going into shock" he grabbed my denim jacket from the front seat, "hey, Angel look at me. I'm going to lift your hand up just for a second and put your jacket under it ok?"

I winced and nodded. It actually didn't hurt that bad. I couldn't feel anything and everything had a vague cold numbness. He drapped his leather jacket over my shoulders.

I took a deep and painful breath. I closed my eyes for a moment but then I felt David snapping his hand over my face. When did he get in the front seat? When did he start driving.

"Hey! Keep your eyes open"

"I'm fine, I'm ok. I just blinked"

"You're pale. Are you nauseous?" David put his eyes back on the road, "if we go back to the apartment they'll follow us and find the kid" he said, "but if we go to a human hospital they'll ask too many questions. So we're going to.. Hey Angel! Open your eyes and keep holding that jacket down. We're going to Milo's mother's place. She'll be ready for us. Angel! Are you listening to me? Asher and Milo have the baby. Christan is leading the pack to hunt down that woman."

I was barely making out the words. Davey was the alpha for a reason, that's the only thing I understood. Cool under pressure, rallying the troops, delegating orders. I nodded, at least I think I did. "I love you" were the words that I tried to get out of my mouth. I felt the engine of the car rev louder.

[yrpreciousmoon]

Firsts

Title: Firsts Fandom: Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Pairing: Josuke x Okusyasu Rating: T Description: Three simple vignettes of relationship milestones. Josuke and Okuyasu share many things unspoken, but perhaps they should have been speaking this entire time. AN: This is the first thing I've written in about a million years. I wrote this to get the ideas moving, to get into the heads of these guys. Inspired by the first prompt for Josuyasu week, this may develop into a larger story later, or it may just remain a drabble. Mostly my goal here was to write these guys as close to canon as possible, which frankly means they'd be too stupid to figure out they're in love. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, I'm looking forward to sharing more works soon! [x-posted to AO3]

*

Josuke remembers their first kiss, although at the time it wasn't even anything.

It was a Saturday morning in Autumn, and Josuke was up much earlier than normal for a weekend. His mother had commented loudly on this fact over breakfast, wondering if it was due to an act of God or a new video game release. The annoyed teen had mumbled something noncommittal though a mouthful of rice and had hardly cleared his plate before he was out the front door. Now that he was out in full view of the world, he did his damndest to maintain his usual Cool Guy saunter while on his way to – predictably – the game store. But his composure lasted only for a block or so before an eager grin broke out across his face and he pitched forward, quickening his pace to a jog. He recalled all of the badass illustrations he'd seen of the game's main protagonist, and began to picture himself as a hot cop navigating a zombie apocalypse. So cool.

But if, perhaps, he hadn't been so enveloped in evading imaginary bad guys, he may have noticed that the very real sky above him was growing darker. Alas, the siren song of gritty violence had completely preoccupied him, and so by the time the imminent storm became apparent, it was already too late to turn back.

 Plink!

At first, he wasn't even sure he had felt it. He snapped back to reality, his smile vanishing, his pace slowing to match that of the gears that were once more beginning to turn in his mind.

 Plink! Plink!

This time, one hit his cheek. He reached up to touch his face, instinctively, then stared blankly at the bit of wetness that remained on his fingertips. “Oh, shit – ”

The heavens opened up, bombarding him at once with a thousand tiny bullets.

“Aaaa-aaaah!” he yelped, bolting forward, hands reaching up uselessly in an attempt to shield his hair from the onslaught. Panicked eyes darted around the neighborhood as he sought somewhere to hide. If he didn't find cover quick, his hair was going to melt into a sad, sticky mess, and there was no way he was going to be seen in public after that. And yet, he needed to get to the store! He didn't have time to repeat his daily hair routine! What if the store was sold out of copies by then?! Josuke was certain that he'd never in his life been in a more perilous predicament. What he needed right now was a –

“JOOO-SUKEEE!”

...Lo, a miracle.

The voice cut through the rain and the panic and the boy whirled around to find the source of it. There, at the end of the side street, emerged a shining ray of hope in the form of a teenager wildly flailing his umbrella. Josuke matched this frantic energy, arms breaking from their defensive position around his hair to thrash about overhead. Words failed him. And then there was a low sound, one that resonated in his guts, and a sudden rush of air that preceded Okuyasu's appearance. They were suddenly stumbling into each other, the umbrella's merciful canopy covering them both.

“Bro!” Okuyasu exclaimed, eyes wide, “What are you doing out here without an umbrella? Your hair, man!” He fretted at the older boy's stray locks for just a moment.

“I know!” Josuke shouted back, not missing a beat, though he grabbed the other boy's shoulder to steady himself in their sudden closeness. “Holy shit. You're always there when things get dicey, bro.” He punched Oku's arm in an act of manly gratitude.

Okuyasu returned the gesture. “Heh heh. Yeah. All in a day's work. But uh, seriously, what are you doing out here? I figured you wouldn't be up for like, another five hours at least.” Josuke sobered up a bit at the question, his lips forming into a pout as he debated telling Okuyasu the whole truth. His friend only blinked, waiting. Josuke closed his eyes and sighed.

“Alright, listen man, I was going to try to keep this a secret but it's no use now.” He hesitated, building suspense, and Okuyasu continued to stare. Josuke cracked an eye open to make sure that he was paying attention. “I was actually on my way to pick up your birthday present.”

Okuyasu's wide-eyed stare still didn't falter, although now he tipped his head to the side and mulled it over for a moment before replying, “Uhh, my birthday isn't for a few weeks still, dude.”

“Well yeah, I know that, dumbass.” Josuke put a hand on his hip. “I was gonna play it for a bit before I gave it to you. You're gonna need to use my console to play it anyway.” Oku blinked again. And once more. Josuke could see the math working itself out in his friend's mind. “So you're getting me... a video game?”

“Yeah, bro.”

“Today?”

“YEAH, bro.”

A beat, and then, “JOSUKE!” he exclaimed, leaning in even closer. Vacuous confusion was replaced by excitement and disbelief as the significance of today's date – promoted for months in adverts that the two boys had pored over together – fully dawned on him. Tears welled up in his eyes. His lips trembled, trying to formulate a coherent response, but all he came up with was, “ZOMBIES!”

Josuke chuckled, delighting as always in his best friend's unbridled enthusiasm. “ZOMBIES, OKU!”

“WE'RE GONNA KILL SOME ZOMBIES!”

“FUCK YEAH!”

The two immediately dissolved into gleeful laughter and whatever dancing could be contained within the umbrella's protection. Josuke beamed, taking in the sight of his buddy utterly blissed out over the idea of low-poly violence, and he was suddenly overwhelmed with that contagious joy. Electricity shot through him in that moment and he put both hands on Okuyasu's cheeks, closing the distance between them 'til their foreheads bumped together.

“Josuke, man, you're the best,” Oku said, struggling to hold back the tears.

“Happy birthday, dude!” exclaimed the other, and then suddenly, instinctively, he pressed a kiss to his friend's lips.

Another jolt of electricity, fingers and toes tingling. Looking back on it, Josuke would be reminded of Jotaro's Stand; the way everything in that moment had halted, even the rain, preserving the moment in his mind like a photograph, and yet when all was said and done only a second or two had passed.

When the moment was fully over Okuyasu had just laughed, as though kissing his best friend on the mouth was the most natural thing in the world. “Stop screwing around Josuke, we gotta get to the store before it sells out!”

“Right!” agreed the other, and the two went on their way.

**

Josuke remembers the first time his dumb ass acknowledged his own feelings.

It was a few years after the kiss, and in that time there had been plenty of small moments that Josuke wouldn't have shared with any other friend, perhaps not even with any of the short-lived quote-unquote romantic partners he'd had in high school.

Moments like... getting close and comfortable on the couch during movie nights. Long embraces to celebrate each other's wins. Eyes dried on t-shirts when someone's burden got too heavy to carry alone.

In all this time and after all these moments, Josuke had conceded to many curious onlookers that their bond was special, unbreakable. Of course it was. Okuyasu was his best bro. He never understood why so many people asked about their friendship, like there was some treasured secret of the universe that they were hiding.

“People are just jealous, man,” Oku had said once at lunch, waving a dismissive hand. “Honestly, I feel sorry for them. They don't know what true friendship is. Anyway,” he finally swallowed the mouthful of food that he'd been barking through, “are you coming to my game tonight or what?” “Wouldn't miss it for the world, Okuyasu,” Josuke replied with a wink.

Yes, all of that, and still, the truth didn't even begin to sink in until the summer of 2003.

Okuyasu had easily convinced Josuke to go on a roadtrip with him on the threadbare premise of “looking at universities,” in giant air-quotes, of course. Josuke wasn't sure his friend would even apply to school, let alone actually attend, but he wasn't going to miss out on several weeks of new food and the open road with his best bud. Not after all the stress and lukewarm heartbreak he'd endured during the past semester of his own academic endeavors...

“... I gotta admit, man, you're not exactly sellin' me on the idea of university,” Okuyasu finished.

Josuke chuckled and looked over at his friend in the driver's seat. The late evening sun played nicely on his skin, bronzed from long days spent outdoors doing odd jobs around Morioh. His elbow was propped up on the open window, idly letting the wind play through his fingers the same way it did in the waves of his top-knot and in the thin fabric of his tank top. Josuke smiled but was silent, turning now to look out his own window. The sun was working its magic here too, turning the coastal woodlands into gold. The silence in the car passed easily, comfortably, until finally Okuyasu let out a yawn and nodded towards an upcoming road sign. “Wanna get off here for the night?”

“Works for me.” Josuke slouched back into his seat, getting comfy. “I'm starving. Grab something to eat and then find a place to crash?” Okuyasu nodded sagely. “Oh, but find somewhere with cable. After all that walking today I just wanna watch some shitty B-movies until I pass out.”

“Obviously,” Okuyasu replied.

And so it came to pass.

And it was that night, in the stale-smelling and sparsely decorated room in the cheapest lodging they could find, that Josuke had an epiphany.

He awoke abruptly in the middle of the night, eyes bleary, apparently roused by the music of some cheaply-produced infomercial that had come on after the monster movie marathon had wrapped up.

“Hmmmmn,” Josuke grumbled, a bit too loud, waiting to see if Okuyasu responded. Nothing at first, and then, a soft snore. Ah. Okay. So Josuke would have to be the one to get up and turn off the TV.

However, as his mind started to process the concept of moving, he slowly became aware of a slight weight that was holding him down. It was Okuyasu's arm, curled loosely around him, hand resting on his chest. And something about this felt... different, to Josuke. He pondered over the situation.

It wasn't weird that they were sharing a bed. It never had been. Well... maybe the first time, a little, but that time Oku had dismissed Josuke's hesitation with a, “Oh, quit bein' stupid.” And so Josuke had quit it, and then it had never been weird again.

And this... this wasn't weird, either. It still felt right, somehow, and just as effortless as all those times Oku had rested his head on Josuke's lap while they studied or watched TV or whatever, or when Josuke's shoulder had become a pillow during long boring ceremonies.

No, this wasn't weird, but this was... different, new, somehow more intimate than even they were accustomed to.

There was a strange flush in Josuke's face and that tingling he'd felt years ago returned, the same one that occasionally accompanied the first physical contact between himself and a cute guy or girl on campus.

But... this was... Okuyasu? This wasn't some hot guy from his Bio class –

… although sure, Oku was a handsome guy. But Josuke wasn't attracted to –

… okay, to be fair, Okuyasu was also definitely his type. But Josuke wasn't smitten with –

… well, he did love being around the guy, and felt that most situations would be improved with his presence. But...

But what? The question buzzed in Josuke's mind. What, exactly, made his feelings for Okuyasu different from any other romance he'd pursued? Any difference he could think of only made this relationship feel more significant, more essential, more robust. What was he missing, here? And how the hell had he missed it for so long?

He redirected his attention to Oku's arm. The embrace felt safe, like it always had. But this new line of questioning in him had him in the mood to experiment, to test these newfound waters of maybe-crushing-on-his-best-friend. He nudged an elbow into Oku's ribs, just enough force to jostle him awake. Then Josuke closed his eyes, and waited.

“Hnn? Wha?” Oku groaned, lifting his head from the pillow. He stared at the TV with half-lidded eyes for a moment, then glanced down to see his supposedly-sleeping best friend. There was a pause, in which Josuke assumed the other would realize the error of his ways and sheepishly roll over to his other side.

Instead, Oku let out a small huff and settled back down, pulling Josuke in even closer to be his little spoon. Josuke's lips parted in shock but he held back the gasp, continuing to feign sleep until he heard the telltale snore once again. Then, emboldened by his friend's reaction, Josuke wiggled his own hips backwards into Oku's, his body now filled with fireworks and an entirely new feeling that curled gently below his stomach.

In the morning, there was no reckoning. Okyuasu patted Josuke's hip, stood from the bed, stretched, and then asked what he wanted to do for breakfast.

The late night epiphany stayed in that bed as they left on the next leg of their adventure.

***

Josuke remembers the first night in their apartment.

The decision to become room mates had been a no-brainer. With the Speedwagon Foundation taking over care of his father and their “pet,” Okuyasu had no need for a big, old, empty house that carried nothing but painful memories. And Tomoko was 1,000% done with Josuke being in the house, even if it was just during his breaks from school. So the two of them had found a decent enough place mid-way between their respective responsibilities, signed some papers, and now they had their own Real Life Adult Home.

The first day had been rough, as all moving days are, and in the end all they had to show for it was a bare mattress on the floor and a tiny TV precariously balanced on one of the many towers of unopened boxes.

So when they finally decided to call it a day, they sank onto the aforementioned mattress with a couple of beers in hand, and turned on the first sitcom they could find. They watched with rapt attention, their bodies sore and hair disheveled, both of them dressed in shorts and hoodies, and Josuke couldn't help but notice how nice this felt.

Oku's arm was around Josuke's shoulders, his beer pressing condensation into Josuke's entirely too expensive hoodie. Normally, Josuke might have pushed the bottle away with an indignant sniff, but on this night the damp spot on his clothes only served to remind him of that day when the two of them had kissed. The electricity that had sparked between them, and how it had gone unmentioned, tucked away in the crevices between fist bumps and high fives and half-conscious spooning.

He glanced up at Okuyasu's face, peering shyly through his long lashes.

“Oh, come on,” Oku snapped at the TV, rolling his eyes. “He's such an idiot. I've never been so mad at a fictional character before.” Josuke didn't take the bait, and eventually the silence made Okuyasu look down, his disgruntled expression softening when he saw the hazy look in Josuke's eyes. He quirked a brow, questioning.

“...hey,” Josuke said quietly, the word shaking a bit as it left him.

“Hey,” replied Oku, uncertain.

Josuke bit his bottom lip, and he watched as Okuyasu's eyes followed the movement and lingered there. Oh, fuck. The heat rose up in his body again and he turned around to properly face the other. “Okuyasu?”

“W-what's up, Josuke?”

As was often the case between them, spoken words wouldn't be sufficient here. Josuke placed a hand on Okuyasu's neck and pulled him in closer. He went slowly, leaving opportunity for the other to escape. But, perhaps to both of their surprise, there was no resistance. Okuyasu submitted to Josuke's will and eased into a soft, lingering kiss.

“Mmh,” Josuke gasped when their lips made proper contact, somewhat in disbelief. He felt Oku's mouth twitch into a little smirk, and oh, that just made his insides melt even more.

He leaned back onto the bed then, Okuyasu still following his lead, and their beer bottles clattered, forgotten, to the floor. Oku adjusted himself to be properly on top of his friend, and yeah, Josuke knew this was for the sake of comfort, but he thought perhaps he detected a hint of dominance in the action too, and that only added to the fire.

Evidently Oku felt the same, letting a soft moan escape into the kiss. He reached one hand up to tangle his fingers with Josuke's, while the other got lost in fistfuls of dark, conditioned hair. A younger version of Josuke may have objected to this, but at this point he was atoning for five years of not making out with Okuyasu, and besides, he kind of enjoyed the pinpricks of pain that blossomed along his scalp, turning into goose-bumps down the back of his neck.

At last they broke away from each other to catch their breath in heavy gulps, though Oku nipped eagerly at his friend's full bottom lip, indicating that this was far from over. Josuke cracked opened his eyes to take in the sight of his best bro gazing down at him with an intensity that he'd never seen before.

Josuke laughed, nervous, unsure of himself. “What... What are we doing?” he breathed.

Okuyasu leaned in again, kissing at Josuke's neck, sucking a little, teasing his teeth gently against the skin. He shrugged. “Whatever the fuck we want.”

[sunmoonandeddie]

don’t forget to sing

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 4,973

summary: You meet someone new in the most unlikely of ways during the quarantine in New York City.  An alley is six feet apart, right?

chapter warnings: swearing, mention of sickness

masterlist

a/n: Let me know what you think!

This was just fucking perfect.

Of course.  Of course you’d move to New York City three weeks before a fucking pandemic.  Cities were a cesspool for illness, and the Big Apple was no exception.

Your dreams of going out and exploring the city and finding little spots that you could call your own now that you were a real New Yorker and not just a tourist anymore were gone.  You’d been so busy unpacking and getting set up at your new job that you’d only gotten to go out for groceries.

And now all of New York City was shut down.  Broadway was closed, for heaven’s sake.  You couldn’t remember a time when that had ever happened in your lifetime.

It was mildly terrifying.  And by mildly, you meant extremely.

Thankfully, your job was primarily online anyway.  You were a playwright and you were basically an intern and assistant for Tony Kushner, possibly one of the greatest playwrights of all time.

But you were lonely.  At least before you were ordered to stay home, you could go out and get a little human interaction at the grocery store, even if the cashier was just telling you your total.  But now, everyone at the grocery store eyed each other warily.  Like you’d infect them with the virus at any second.

Which, it was possible.  It was why you only went late at night in order to avoid most of the crowds.  And also why you’d sewn a mask out of an old t-shirt in order to protect yourself.  And also why you’d stocked up on groceries so you wouldn’t have to go for about two weeks.

“I don’t know,” you said as you held the phone to your ear, wandering back and forth in your tiny little apartment.  Your best friend was on the other side, a thousand miles away.  “It’s getting really bad here.”

And, of course, she could try to understand, but Hope was all the way across the country.  She’d gotten a job in her hometown in California after graduation.  “I think we’re starting to head that way, too.  Are you going to be okay?”

“I think so,” you said, trying to be cheerful as you sat at your desk, pulling your knees up to your chest.  “I’m used to being alone, remember?  I’m a writer.  All I need is coffee and my laptop and I’m ready to hibernate.”

Hope let out a sigh, and you could hear the creak of her bed as she laid down.  “I don’t know.  I just think that maybe you should come out here.”

“I can’t.  I don’t have that kind of money.  And I just got here.  I don’t want to run away at the first sign of trouble,” you said as you opened up your laptop.  “Besides, I’m probably safer here locked away in my apartment by myself than I would be in your big house with you, your parents, and Scott.  Your parents work in a lab with hundreds of other people.  They have no idea if any of them have it.  It’d probably be safer for you to come stay here with me.”

“Me in that shoe box?” She scoffed.  “As if.”

Your laptop whirred to life as you ran your finger back and forth over the mouse pad.  “We talked about this.  You’re a California girl.  I’m New York.”  A smirk settled over your face as you cradled the phone between your ear and your shoulder, typing in your password.  “Two households, both alike in dignity—”

“Jesus, theatre kids are the worst,” she muttered.

You barked out a laugh as you pulled up your latest word document.  “I’m a grown woman, you know.”  You reached over your desk and opened up the curtains, figuring you could use a little change of scenery, even if it was just the apartment building across the alley.  The red brick was illuminated by the setting sun, the sky painted in shades of orange and gold.

There’s a tense pause between the two of you.  There’s a lot of unspoken words.

The both of you know that this is serious.  People are dying and there’s nothing the two of you can really do except hope and stay inside as much as possible and wash your hands.  And this is the first time the two of you have lived apart since your sophomore year of university.  It’s a big change and of course, all this happens right when you’re on your own.

“Are you going to be okay?” Hope asked, her voice cracking.

Taking in a shaky breath, you rest her head in your hand.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I’ll be okay.  You just worry about staying healthy yourself, okay?  And take care of your parents.”

Her parents were both a little older, and they were at risk with everything going around.  They’d become your second family in the years since you’d first met Hope, and had even let you live with them for a while after graduation while you saved up for your move to New York City.  Hell, they’d paid for you to come spend school breaks with them.  They were your family.

And now you were all alone with no way to get to them.  Even if you did want to fly, all incoming and outgoing flights were being canceled.  They hadn’t officially announced that they’d be closing the airports, but it was coming.

A light in the apartment across the alley from yours flicked on, and your eyes were immediately drawn to it.

“Oh…,” you breathed out, accidentally cutting off what Hope was saying.

“What?”

“There’s a…  There’s a man.”

“A man?!  We are in a pandemic!  There’s no dating in a pandemic!”

You went quiet as your elbow rested on your desk, your chin in your hand.  “He’s… gorgeous.”

And gorgeous, he was.  He looked like he’d just gotten out of the shower, with the towel swung low on his hips.  Dark hair was smattered across his broad chest like some hero on the cover of a trashy romance novel.  He ran his fingers through his long, damp hair as he opened up the drawers of his dresser, picking out boxers and sweats.

“God…  He looks like he just walked off a photoshoot with, like… Vogue,” you said quietly.  Drool was starting to drip from the corner of your mouth, you were so entranced.

“Wait…  Really?” Hope said, her voice rising.  “I need details!  Now!”

Brows furrowed, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.  “You have a boyfriend.”

“Who I haven’t gotten to see in over a week.  Scott is the love of my life, but I need to live vicariously through you,” she said.  “The most romance we have right now is when his internet actually works and we get to FaceTime.”

You were in a trance, just watching him move around his room.  “You know how cute I thought Jimmy Woo was?  He was in my Econ class and then we went on, like… two dates?”

“Yeah.”

“I would feed Jimmy Woo to a pack of hyenas if this man asked me to.”

But of course, nothing good could last.  Your elbow slipped off the edge of the desk and your face slammed down onto the wood.  “Oh, my god,” you groaned as you fell to the ground, clutching your mouth.  “Holy fuck…”

Hope was shouting at you through the phone, demanding to know whether or not you were okay.  She was more frantic than you’d ever heard her.

Pulling your hand away from your face, you winced as you saw the dark red blood.  “Shit. Shit, shit, shit…”  You didn’t think you’d knocked out a tooth, thank god.  You were sure that you’d be able to feel that.  “Yeah…  I think I’m okay.”  You started to pull yourself up, glaring at the blood that was on the edge of the desk.

But when you found the Most Handsome Man in the World staring at you from his window, looking just as worried as Hope sounded in his towel, you quickly ducked back down, willing him to go away.  You don’t think you’d ever been so embarrassed.

“Hope, I’m going to throw myself from the Brooklyn Bridge,” you hissed into the phone as you sat on the floor, leaning against your desk.  “He saw me bust my face open!  Or he heard it!”

There’s a pause, and then a snort.  “You have to admit, it’s kinda funny.  And the type of thing that would only happen to you.”

“Gee, I’m so happy you’re having fun with this,” you said.

You stayed down there for an extraordinarily long time, hoping to whatever god was out there that he’d stop looking.  When you finally emerged from your hiding place, you found that he was watching a movie with his bedroom light off, his eyes completely focused on the television.

And there was a whiteboard leaning against the window, messy scrawl in blue marker.

Hope you didn’t hurt yourself too bad!!  And I’m glad you enjoyed the show ;)

More than a little appalled at how blatant he was, you grabbed a piece of notebook paper and a Sharpie, writing out your reply before sticking it to the window with a piece of tape.

Nothing but a busted lip and broken pride :(

You shut your curtains, carefully cleaning your wound before getting to work on your latest writing assignment.  Though occasionally, you could remember the strange interaction and a smile would creep across your face.

Which would then cause you to wince in pain as the cut on your lip came open again.

Right before you went to bed, you peeked out of your curtains to see if he’d replied again.

Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone what I saw :)  Goodnight!

You quickly wrote out a reply, taping it up before heading to bed.

Pinky promise?  Goodnight!

When you woke up, there was already another note left for you, and the man seemed to be gone.

Good morning!  I hope your lips feel better!

You had no idea when he’d be back or why the hell he’d left.  It was a pandemic after all.

Granted, a lot of people still had to work in this whole mess.  It was ridiculous.

Feeling a little bold, you wrote out a message.

You wanna kiss it better?

But you quickly crumbled up the piece of paper and threw it away.  Despite the fact that you’d seen him almost completely naked the night before, you didn’t know him.  He’d only said three sentences to you so far, and they were written out.

It was the quarantine equivalent of sliding into someone’s direct messages on Twitter or Instagram.

Should you even reply?  He was…  He was the kind of guy you saw on Love Island.  Too perfect and too ripped and sweet and mysterious and friendly, all at the same time.

You’d been getting into a lot of shows you wouldn’t have watched before while quarantined.  You’d watched the entire first season of the American version of the show, and you’d probably start the United Kingdom version sometime that day.  It wasn’t like you had anything better to do.

“Have you written back to him?” Hope asked as you set up your laptop on your desk, pulling up Spotify.

“What?” You asked, your phone cradled between your ear and your shoulder.  “No.  It was a one time thing.  It’s done.”  Before she could reply, you said your goodbyes and hung up.  You really needed to clean and that wasn’t going to happen if you chattered away on the phone with Hope like you usually did.

Music blasted from your laptop’s speaker after you hit play, and you threw open the window, letting the late winter air in.  It had started to get really stuffy in your apartment and you needed something to do other than work and binge watching or you’d go insane.

You didn’t even notice that your neighbor that lived across the alley had come home, and was watching you with a delighted smile on his face.

You were half-dancing, half-cleaning, belting out the lyrics without a care as you got more and more into it.  “Didn’t even know it!  No punches left to roll with!  You got to keep me focused!  You want it?  Say so!” You sang, twirling around with your trash can in hand as you picked up all the various little items.  “Let me check my chest, my breath right quick!  He ain’t ever seen it in a dress like this!  He ain’t ever even been impressed like this!”

Unseen by you, the mysterious stranger took a few steps forward, grateful that he’d left his window open.

“Prolly why I got him quiet on the set like zip!  Like it, love it, need it bad!  Take it, own it, steal it fast!  Boy, stop playin!’  Grab my ass!  Why you acting like you—”  You turned around, breaking off with a squeak as you saw him standing there watching you, your trashcan and an empty mug in hand.  You were completely frozen as he stared at you with a slight smile, leaving you a deer in headlights.

Suddenly, you were hyper aware of just how awful you looked.  Your hair hadn’t been washed, or your face.  You were wearing a men’s two XL hoodie that you’d stolen from some guy you’d fucked for a few months in college and a pair of sweatpants that you’d had since you were on the middle school track team that were still too long in the feet.  You’d done shot put and discus.

Why the fuck were you thinking about shot put and discus?  You hadn’t thought about it over twelve years.  It wasn’t like you were ever any good at it.

The Most Handsome Man in the World was staring at you, holding a takeout box at a mug of tea.  But at least he was fully dressed, even if that didn’t awake away from how attractive he was.  “Hey,” he said with an easy smile.

“Hi.”  Your voice cracked as you spoke, and you’d never wanted to slam your head against the wall more.  How could you be this much of a fucking loser?

“I like your music choice.  Who is that?” He asked curiously as he set his food on the bed, kicking off his shoes before sitting down.

Yeah, he was definitely just as attractive fully clothed as he was naked, which was truly a feat in itself.  Surely there was some kind of award for that, right?

You realized you’d been staring at him in silence and coughed, replying, “Doja Cat.”

“How’s your lip?”

“Good.”

“Good.”

The two of you stared at each other, him happily munching on the chicken nuggets he’d picked up.  You hadn’t moved an inch.

“I’m James,” he said after swallowing.  “But my friends call me Bucky.”

You gave him your name as you slowly moved a few steps closer, sitting down in your desk chair and pulling your knees up to your chest.  “What kind of a name is Bucky?”

He chuckled, dipping his next nugget into the sweet and sour sauce.  “My middle name is Buchanan.  My best friend, Steve, started calling me Bucky when we were in kindergarten, and I don’t know… it just stuck.”

“I mean…”  You shrugged, wrapping your arms around her legs.  “‘S alright.  I like James though.”

“You can call me James.”

“Oh.  Okay.”

It felt intimate, somehow.  Calling him by his first name.

The quarantine was forcing people to revert back to Victorian ways of social conduct.  If you were lucky, you’d get your own Mr. Darcy.

But with the sweats you had on, it was more than likely that you’d end up an old spinster.

How did he find it so easy to talk to a complete stranger?  Granted, you were a lot less intimidating than he was.

“How’s your lip?” He asked, his head tilting to the side as he peered over at you.  “You don’t need stitches, right?”

There was an unspoken worry there.  Needing stitches meant you’d probably go without, since all the hospitals were so backed up with those that had fallen ill.  And going to the hospital just meant you’d risk your own health by coming in close contact with those going to get treated for Covid-19.

“If you do, I have a first aid kit I keep here in my apartment with the stuff to do stitches,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.  “But I wouldn’t exactly be able to come over there to help you.  You’d have to do the stitches yourself.”

Your brows furrowed as you looked at him.  “Why do you have the stuff to do stitches in your first aid kit?  I did see this one episode of one of those crime shows where they used safety pins to hold a gash open, but I can’t remember what show it was.”

Mirth sparkled in his eyes as he watched you.  “I’m a nurse.”

“Oh,” you said, relaxing.  But then you remembered, and your heart sank.  “Oh.  I… James.”

James looked rather sheepish as he looked down at his feet.  “It’s nothing really.  But I can’t use the elevator since it would risk someone being in an enclosed space with me.  So… you know.  I don’t really need leg day, right?”  He let out a weak laugh, clearly trying to blow it off.  “I’m not allowed to use the gym anymore.  Not that I would.  I don’t want to risk infecting anyone, even if I don’t have it yet.”

The way he said ‘yet’ hurt your heart.  He knew the position he was in, how dangerous it was.

There was nothing you could really say to him.  What the hell could you say?  Thank you for your service?  Technically, you could, but you remembered how your dad had felt about it.  He’d been a field doctor over in Afghanistan until he’d died on his fifth tour.

“I was just doing what needed to be done, sweetheart,” he’d said to you when you’d asked.  “Trying to save as many people as possible.  I don’t need thanks for that.”

But fuck.  James was going out everyday to fight an opponent that he couldn’t see.

“My lip is fine,” you said eventually, breaking the silence with a weak smile.

“Good,” he said, clearing his throat.  “I’ll let you get back to your solo concert.  I’ve gotta shower.”

Things went on as normally.  Or, at least, as normal as things could be in a time like that.  Only now, you had someone to talk to that wasn’t Hope every night.

He wouldn’t tell you about what it was like at the hospital though.  He’d get this far away look in his eyes and his face would pale.  “Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about, darlin,’” he’d croon, a sad smile on his lips.  “You let me worry, and you just keep yourself safe and inside, okay?”

Sometimes you’d miss him.  He’d be at the hospital for days on end, sleeping in on-call rooms and eating from vending machines.  That’s when you’d leave little notes all over your window for him to read when he got back.

But then one day he came home and you could just tell that he was more worn down that usual.

“James?” You called out softly as you pushed the window open.  You hadn’t seen him in two days.  “Are you okay?”  You leaned half out the window, your elbows resting on the ledge.

He took in a shaky breath, his eyes squeezing shut as he willed himself not to cry.

“James?”  You’re about to repeat your question when he looks up, staring blankly at the wall.

“Steve has it,” he said quietly, his voice cracking.

Your heart stopped inside your chest.  “Oh.  Oh, James…,” you breathed out.

A few tears slipped down his cheeks, his hands clenched at his sides.  “I went into a room in the ER and there he was.”

You’d heard so many stories about his best friend since childhood that you felt like you knew Steve already.  Bucky had met him when they were just five years old, on the first day of kindergarten, and it’d been history from there.  But Steve had been sickly and small up until they were about seventeen, when he’d undergone some revolutionary clinical trial.  Fixing his heart and lungs had kick started his entire system and it was like everything magically went away.

“Not even that stupid treatment prevented him from getting sick,” Bucky said quietly.  “He looked…  He looked like he was on his deathbed.”

You paused, before crawling out of the window and out onto the fire escape.  “James, take my hand.”

You knew it was stupid.  It was really, really stupid.  He was around those with the virus daily, but he needed you.  You’d risk it to give him a little bit of comfort.

“What?” He said, looking at you like you’d grown a second head.  “No.  No.  I can’t.  What if I give it to you?”

“Then we’ll figure it out,” you said, insistently holding your hand out to him.  “Take my hand.”

Sniffling, he reached his hand out of his window and took yours, your fingers intertwining.  He took in a shaky breath, a fresh wave of tears coming on as he squeezed his eyes shut.  “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted after a long moment just holding your hand.  “I’m so fucking scared.  I don’t want to go in there day after day.  I know people need me but I…”  He looked up at you with sea glass eyes.  “I don’t want to die.”

“You’re not going to,” you said firmly, with as much conviction as you could muster up.  “You hear me?  You’re not going to die, and neither is Steve.  We’re going to make it through this.”

“Sometimes I just… hold their hand,” he said, so quiet you could barely hear.  “They’re dying alone.  Their family and friends aren’t allowed in to see them.  So I just… stay with them.  So they have someone there.”  Bucky lets his head fall into his chest, his shoulders slumping.  “And then I have to call the family to let them know.  And I just hope that maybe…  knowing I was there with them helps a little.  But it’s not the same.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, not daring to look down because you’re several stories up and if you lean a little too far, it would result in a trip to the hospital you can’t afford.  You haven’t been outside in days.

You don’t realize that you’re crying right along with him until you taste the salty brine of your tears on your lips.

“We’re going to be okay, James,” you said, though you weren’t sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself.  “This won’t last forever.  And I’m going to be here with you, okay?  No matter what happens.  I’m here.  I’ve got you.”

He squeezed your hand once more before letting go, nodding for you to go back inside.  “Go wash your hands.  Now.”

A smile creeps across your face as you surrender to his wishes, crawling back through your window.  “Yes, sir.”

He’s touch and go the next few days.  Sometimes he seems upbeat, positive even, about the whole situation.  Others…  Well.  He had plenty of reason to be down.

“You know, you’re a pretty good singer,” he commented one night.  He was sitting against the window, leaning his head against the frame.  You had climbed out onto the fire escape again with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders.  “That night that I heard you singing to that song…  The Doja Cat one?  You’re good.”  His head tilted to the side in the way that a puppy might.  “Why don’t you sing more often?”

“I used to,” you said after a deep sigh.  “I used to sing a lot.  I was going to be a musical theatre actress.  But I got told so often that I was better at writing than performing so… I don’t know.  I guess I just decided it’d be better to pursue something I was better at.”

His lower lip was caught between his teeth as he looked at you.

You’d never had someone look at you the way he did.  Like he wanted to see all of you, like he craved it, needed it, even.  It was exhilarating.

“That doesn’t mean you stop singing.”  He moved to rest his chin in his palm.  “Even if you don’t become a performer professionally, you don’t stop singing.  Especially in times like these.”

“What?  Like those fake videos of people in Italy?” You asked with a snort.  A breeze wound through the alley and you tightened the blanket around you.  “The one that Katy Perry retweeted?”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” he said with an eye roll.  “My ma used to sing around the house.  Hearing you…  It made me feel like I was home again.  Just for a little while.”  He smiled slyly.  “And you have pretty sick dance moves.”

Groaning, you climbed back into your window, shooting a glare at him.  “You promised not to talk about my dancing!”

“It was cute!”

“Was not!”

“Was to!”

You took in a deep breath as you stared at him with narrowed eyes.  “No,” you said, pointing a finger at him.  “No, it’s not.”  Before he could reply, you started to shut the window, calling out, “Goodnight, James!”  The window shut with a definitive click and you winked as he flipped you the middle finger.

Steve came home three weeks later, completely clean of the virus.  The quarantine finally ended on May 22nd, 2020, the amount of cases down to maybe a hundred that were contained within the hospital.

In that time, you’d gone outside a total of six times to get groceries.  You’d gained ten pounds, even with the basic exercises you were doing in your apartment to keep you active.  You’d also saved up two thousand dollars, since you weren’t going out and you’d put a parental lock on your laptop and phone so you couldn’t go online shopping until further notice, but you were lucky in that way.  You had an extremely well-paying job that you could do online, and your boss wasn’t an asshole.

Millions of New Yorkers flooded the streets, crying and hugging and touching everyone.

You hadn’t been touched in so long.  The last time had been when you’d held Bucky’s hand on your balcony, and that had been the only time he’d allowed it since he didn’t want to get you sick.

He’d been lucky that he didn’t get it himself.  Most of those that had fallen ill were healthcare workers.  Overworked, tired healthcare workers.

You stepped out of the front doors of your apartment building, feeling an overwhelming sense of elation.  You’d already talked to Hope that morning on FaceTime.  Her and her parents were celebrating by going to their favorite restaurant that was allowing dine-in again.

Tears pricked your eyes as you watched the people around you.  It reminded you a little bit of those pictures of V-Day in New York City at the end of World War II.

But where was Bucky?

He’d been at work yesterday, and since you hadn’t seen him, it probably meant that he’d passed out in an on-call room instead of coming home.

But you needed to see him.  You didn’t care if he was all gross and greasy.  You just needed him.

You loved him.

Your eyes locked in on a familiar head of long, brown hair sticking a little bit above the crowd.  He was awful tall.  When he turned his head, it only confirmed it.  “JAMES!” You shouted, trying to break through the roar of the crowd.  “JAMES!”

His brows furrowed, his head turning a little towards the sound of his voice.  When his eyes landed on you they went wide as saucers, his lips forming your name even though you couldn’t hear him over the people.

The two of you pushed through the hordes of people, trying to reach one another.  When you finally broke through, you threw yourself into his arms, your arms wrapping around his neck as he twirled you around.  The both of you were crying happy tears, wide smiles on your faces.

“We made it,” you whispered, your voice cracking.  “We’re okay.”  You pulled back enough to cup his face, so many words you wanted to say getting caught in your throat.

But before you could say them, he pulled you into a kiss, one hand on the back of your head and the other on your hip.  Grinning against your lips, he dipped you just a little, holding you tight.  To passerby, it was a remnant of the iconic V-Day kiss.  But you couldn’t think about that.  All you could think about was Bucky.

“Hi,” he said softly as he pulled away, breathing heavily.

Your nose nudged against his as your eyes fluttered open.  “Hi.”

He stole another kiss, your heart skipping a beat inside your chest.  “You better not stop singing now that this is over,” he said quietly as he held you to him, refusing to let go.  “Can’t go a day without hearing your pretty voice.”

“You’re a sap.”

“Your sap.”

“My sap?!”

He had a cheeky smile as he looked at you, cupping your cheeks.  “Does this mean I can take you on a date now?”

You were lucky.  You knew people who got the virus, but none of them had died.  Others didn’t have the same luck unfortunately, and it was a tragedy.  But you don’t stop singing during dark times.  You just sing a little louder.