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justagalwhowrites · 9 months ago

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Yearling - Ch. 28: Newcomer

Life changes for you in Jackson. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-26 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst because duh. Canon-typical violence. Reference to past SA. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 14.1k (SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME TO CALM DOWN)

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

October, 2027

“Is everything OK?” You frowned as you watched as Savvy pushed her scrambled eggs from one side of her plate to the other, her head propped against her hand and a flat look on her face.

She shrugged and moved the pile of eggs again.

“Need to eat before school,” you said, not really paying much attention to your own plate.

“Why?” Savvy snapped, looking up at you. “So I can have energy to go sit in a chair all day? No thanks.”

You sighed, jaw tense, and set your fork down, crossing your arms and leaning on the table.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” she looked back at her plate and moved the eggs again.

“I might be able to help,” you said, smiling a little at her from across the table. “Believe it or not, I was a teenager once, too. And life here isn’t all that different from the life I had when I was your age.”

“Yeah, so you’ve said,” she muttered, an edge in her voice.

You watched her for a moment, feeling more distant from your daughter than you ever had when she was physically so close.

Becoming a part of Jackson had been a rough transition for Savvy. It just had taken you a while to see it.

At first, you were so relieved to have her with you again that everything else was white noise.

For a bit, that day at the stables, you were rooted to the ground. You were afraid to move too far, like if you left that space she’d vanish again. You couldn’t bear to stop touching her to walk home, your arms around her shoulders and holding her body to yours the entire way.

She clung onto you, too, early on. There was so much she didn’t know and so much you didn’t know that she didn’t know. Things about life in Jackson that were innate to you - muscle memory from a time the crumbling world was forgetting - were completely foreign to her.

Savvy had the same problem with electricity you had when coming to town, sitting with her fingers in her ears when you weren’t talking for the first few days she was there. She was amazed by so much. She’d seen and read about things like stoves and refrigerators, showers and CD players but she’d never used them. It was like she existed outside of the modern era, approaching it all with skeptical caution as she adjusted to the reality she now lived in. You did your best to guide her through it, showing her everything and explaining how it worked as best you could.

The two of you didn’t leave the house the first week she was there. You didn’t need to, food boxes appearing again. It was a good thing, too, because you were too busy catching up on everything that had happened in the years you’d been apart and getting to know each other again to venture out.

Savvy had never been captured by Mitchum and his men. They’d gotten close to her once, one of his men the first person she ever killed. She managed to slip away but had to leave Nike behind.

After that, she wanted nothing to do with people. She knew how to run and how to hide, how to get away quick when she heard or sensed something coming. She had become an expert at being alone, living off the land, crossing all over the region so she was never in one place for long enough to tip off any of the more powerful groups. It was a miracle that Joel had found her at all.

Getting adjusted to the people of Jackson was a struggle. She’d only ever been around maybe half a dozen people at once before, when you’d run into a family making their way through your territory and you decided it was safe for her to meet them.

Here, there were hundreds.

“Why are there so many of them?” She asked quietly the first time you left the house, her arm looped with yours as you passed a cluster of kids running toward the playground, a haggard looking man chasing after them.

You frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“The people,” she said, watching the kids for a moment with a small frown on her face before looking back to you. “There’s… there’s so many of them. There’s not enough space here, how does everyone live here?”

You smiled a little.

“This is what people did all the time before,” you said. “People like us were the odd ones.”

She crinkled her nose.

“Maybe that’s why the world ended,” she said. “Not enough room for us all.”

“I think you’ll like people once you get to know them,” you said, giving her a little squeeze. “They’re good people here. And you always had fun playing with the kids we met before…”

“That was a long time ago,” she said, voice sharp.

“I know,” you said, trying not to let the hurt at the thought of your time with her being long ago now. “But you were always good with people. Definitely better than I was. I think you’ll like it, once you understand it.”

“Maybe,” she said, skeptical. “I don’t know. I just… I kind of like it. Being by myself.”

“That’s OK,” you replied. “Doesn’t mean you can’t like people, too.”

“Right,” she nodded, looking at the ground.

She really had not enjoyed starting school.

Savvy just came with you to the stables when you starred back at work again. She immediately bonded with the horses and spent an hour just standing next to Perseus, her head pressed against his large shoulder, her eyes closed.

You tried to not push her too fast or too far. You knew it was a big adjustment, that she would need time. But you also knew how important this time of her life was. She’d been totally alone for so long and you wanted more for her. She should have a chance to get to know kids her own age, to make friends, to fall in love, to have a life that she looked forward to and shared with people she cared about. Instead, she was hiding away.

So you brought her to meet Susan, the woman who taught most of the older kids in Jackson, one afternoon. She was sitting at her desk, papers in front of her and gray hair twisted into a knot on the top of her head with a pencil holding it in place. She smiled when you came in, Savvy against your side with her brows together and her features drawn tight. You were reminded of when she was a little girl and you were first teaching her how to kill. How she wanted so badly for things to stay the way they were.

“I thought I might be seeing you two soon,” she smiled and introduced herself and gestured for you to sit on the other side of her desk. “Why don’t we get to know each other a little bit?”

She asked Savvy a few questions and Savvy looked at you before answering each one, her hand tight on your knee, your hand in the middle of her back. Susan gave Savvy a few work sheets and pulled you aside while she did them.

“Do you have any idea what her skill level is?” She asked quietly. “I’ve never worked with a student who’s coming into this quite like she is…”

“I’m not sure,” you said, looking back toward the door that separated you from your daughter. “I tried my best when I was with her but I was never some great student, didn’t like school much and I never went to college, I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing…”

Susan reached out, her touch catching you off guard and you had to fight not to jump, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“You did everything you could,” she said. “No one would expect you to run an elementary school when trying to survive the end of the world. But students backslide over summer break let alone something like this. Years on her own not keeping up with what she was taught and no formal schooling to begin with… she might have a lot of ground to cover.”

You just nodded, trying not to blame yourself for whatever Savvy was missing. Even though you knew, deep down, it was your fault.

But she hadn’t let her skills totally lapse in the last few years. When she stopped and checked houses and stores for clothes and shelf stable food, she also found books to read and something to write in. Her language skills were advanced and she had a good understanding of biology. But her math was rudimentary at best and her history knowledge was spotty, limited to areas that had caught your attention or hers through the years.

“I can put her with the other kids her age,” Susan said, her voice low as Savvy browsed the book shelves at the back of the classroom. “We’ll see how she does. I’m more worried about the socialization than I am anything academic. She’s not used to being around her peers or more than one or two other people at a time, it might be a lot for her…”

“Do you think it would be better if I kept her home?” You asked, the sting of tears at the back of your throat. What if you’d doomed your daughter to a life of loneliness because you hadn’t sought out a place like Jackson when she was little? What if she never had a chance to experience things beyond just survival because you’d kept her away from it?

“No,” Susan said, more definitively than you’d expected. “But it might be better to… ease her into the school experience. Just an hour or two at first and build up to it, plan to have her join during quieter periods when there’s lecture and not group work quite yet, that sort of thing.”

You nodded slowly, jaw tight as you watched Savvy pick a book off the shelf and turn it over to read the back. Susan rested her hand gently on your shoulder, making you jump and look back at her. She didn’t seem to notice.

“Children are resilient,” she said gently. “They adjust and adapt. She will be OK.”

You nodded, a few tears slipping free.

“Mom?” Savvy called.

You quickly dried the tears and sniffed.

“Yeah?”

“Can I bring this home?” She came over and handed you the book. It was Little Women. “It sounds good…”

“It is good,” you said, clearing your throat and hoping she couldn’t hear the change in your voice. “But it’s not my book to lend, you’ll have to ask Ms. Parker.”

“Right,” she said, turning to her but looking more to the side than directly at her. “Is it OK?”

“Promise you’ll bring it back when you come to my classes?” Susan asked, smiling and trying to meet her eyes. “And that you’ll take good care of it?”

Savvy just nodded.

“Then yes,” she said. “You can borrow it.”

She smiled tightly and turned to go before you stopped her.

“Savvy,” you said. Like you, she’d forgotten what it was like to interact with other people after being totally alone for so long. You’d taught her please and thank you when she was little but, once it was just her and the animals, the habit had slipped away.

“Right,” she said, turning back and actually looking at Susan this time. “Thank you.”

Susan smiled.

“You’re welcome. I hope you enjoy it and I’ll see you soon in class.”

Savvy looked to you and you put your arm around her waist and guided her home.

She’d taken pretty well to school, all things considered. She liked to learn and was an engaged student, according to Susan. But she got bored easily and wasn’t the most tolerant of other students’ tendencies to goof off or talk during class. She also didn’t understand when the other kids teased her.

Sean, one of the older boys, sneered at her once and called her the wild girl.

“So?” Savvy had frowned.

“You’re not civilized,” he’d said. “Shouldn’t be here with us humans, should be out there with the fucking animals…”

You only knew about it at all because Ellie overheard the incident and handled it herself.

“Ellie!” You’d gaped at her when she told you as she leaned against the stall you were in. “What did you do?”

“Beat the shit out of him until he went home to cry to his mommy,” she sneered the last word, mocking and righteous.

You weren’t sure whether you wanted to hug her or scold her.

“You’re an adult now,” you said, going back to brushing down Shimmer. “You really shouldn’t beat up children…”

“OK first of all, he’s 16,” she said. “Second, he’s got a foot on me, not my problem if he’s a little bitch…”

“And thank you,” you cut her off. “For protecting her.”

She just shrugged.

“I was the wild girl once,” she said. “Sucks sometimes.”

“She OK?” You asked, realizing that you’d never thought you’d need to navigate things like bullies with Savvy until that moment.

“Fine,” Ellie shrugged again. “She didn’t seem that bothered by it, actually. Pissed me off more than her.”

You nodded slowly.

“I can introduce her to some people who don’t fucking suck,” Ellie said after a minute. “And she can come hang out with me and Dina and Jesse sometimes.”

“Isn’t she a little young to be running around with y’all?” You frowned.

“Not really,” Ellie shrugged. “And we won’t let her get into too much trouble.”

You sighed, brush frozen on Shimmer’s side. The horse huffed, turning back to look at you, a sense of judgement in her eyes.

“Try not to be a bad influence on my kid,” you said, glancing at Ellie, who smirked.

“Bad influence? Me? Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Ellie did introduce her to some of the older kids who were still in school and Savvy started staying after school to hang out with them a few times per week. There was one boy, Kyle, who she started talking about a lot, a small smile tugging at her lips when she did.

She also started going to movie nights and even to the mess hall with people besides you, easing into knowing people. She even slept over at Ellie’s once, leaving you anxiously pacing your house all night, not able to shake the feeling that she should be here and she wasn’t. There was the lingering thought that, maybe, you’d only ever imagined her coming back at all and you’d been alone all this time. You left the lamp on by the front door for the first time since she’d come back and you slept on the couch, waking with a jolt when she came home the next morning.

But she’d started pushing back against you for the last two weeks. She answered questions in as few words as possible, she pushed her curfew when she went out with her friends, she snapped at you when you asked her to help around the house.

You were taken aback by it. You’d never had conflict like this with her before. Of course, it was hard for her to rebel much when there was nothing else for her to rebel WITH, no other people or forbidden substances to act out with. But she’d also only been 11 when you’d been taken. She was 15 now. You weren’t sure how much would have always happened this way and how much she was picking up now that she was around other teenagers.

“Do you not want to go to school anymore?” You asked gently from across the table. Her hair was extra wild today, her all but shoving you away when you tried to braid it before heading to the mess hall for breakfast. She’d refused all attempts to contain it, curls springing in every direction.

“Is that what I said?” She asked, raising her eyebrows at you.

“No,” you said. “But I’m trying to understand how you’re feeling, honey. I can tell you’re upset by something and…”

“Were you ever going to tell me about you and Joel?” She snapped.

Your heart stuttered.

“What?”

“You and Joel,” she said. “You were together, right? Were you ever going to tell me about that?”

“I… I don’t…” you just blinked for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts. “Where did you hear about that?”

“Something Ellie said tipped me off,” she replied. “Don’t think she realized she was giving away some big secret…”

“It’s not a secret, honey, it’s just…” you sighed. “It’s not… it’s not important right now, you’re what’s important and…”

“Am I?” She smacked her fork down on the table hard enough that you startled away from the sound. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, chest getting tight. “Savvy, you’re the most important…”

“Did you even try to find me?” She cut you off. Her eyes were glistening and her face was drawn, tight and hurt. “Did you even bother to really look? Because I looked for you. I looked for you for years, Mom! I searched and I searched and I thought I’d find you eventually. I thought you must have really been hurt to have not come and found me so I needed to find you because my mom would never have just left me like that.

“After a while, I thought you must have died, that’s the only thing I thought would have kept you from finding me again,” she kept going, voice a little louder, the people around you at the mess hall awkwardly glancing away. “And that hurt and I missed you and I felt… I felt so guilty about that because I knew that if I just hadn’t been there you’d still be alive and you were only gone because of me and that was the only thing that would have kept you away from me. But I was wrong, you were just… you were here the whole time, here having some happy life with some man like you had before and… did you forget about me? Once you found this place was I just nothing to you anymore?”

“No!” You just gaped at her from across the table. “No, that’s not what happened, that’s not at all…”

“I have school,” she stood up, picking up her plate of half eaten eggs as she did.

“No,” you shook your head, standing up, too. “No, we need to talk about this, if this is how you’ve been feeling, we can go home and…”

“Do you want me to go learn freaking algebra or not?” She snapped. “You’re the one who says it’s so important, is it important or not?”

“It is, but…”

“Then I’ll see you later,” she said, a little quieter and calmer now. “Besides… I don’t think I want to hear what you have to say right now, anyway.”

You just stood there, watching your daughter stalk off toward the school.

It was hard to focus at the stable that day. You kept looking up, hoping Savvy would come in. You weren’t sure if it would have been better to chase after her or give her space and you tried to remember what you would have wanted from your mother when you fought with her but your relationship with Savvy had never felt like your relationship with your mother. You felt so different from your mother that you sometimes wondered if you’d been traded at the hospital, another girl out there in the world who loved all the things she did living the life you were supposed to have. But Savvy had always felt like another part of yourself, independent but never fully separate.

“You caused a ruckus this morning,” Julie said when she came by the stable in the afternoon. You sighed and she perched on the wall of a stall before handing you an apple. You took a bite of it and sighed, leaning next to her.

“Heard about that, huh?” You asked, turning the fruit in your hand.

“Think the whole town has,” Julie took out an apple of her own. “Sorry.”

“Shouldn’t be too surprised,” You sighed.

“Want to talk about it?” She asked.

“Yes, in great detail,” you said sarcastically. You were thankful for Julie in that moment, though. After Savvy had come to Jackson, Julie had reached out to check in on you and, in spite of the awkward moment in the orchard outside of town, you’d grown to be friends. Which was something that you’d sorely needed as you navigated this unknown landscape of your new relationship with Savvy.

Julie snorted.

“Yeah, should have known better than to ask that. You OK?”

“I just wish I knew what to do,” you sighed. “I don’t know what she needs, I don’t know how to make her feel better, I don’t know how to make her understand…”

You pinched the bridge of your nose for a moment, sighing again.

“She’s a teenager,” Julie said kindly after you were quiet for a second. “Teenagers are hard. You remember being a teenager…”

“Not as well as you do,” you teased and she rolled her eyes.

“Yes, yes, you’re very old,” she teased back before turning serious. “She might just need space. She’ll get past it. They always do.”

You just nodded as Persephone nudged you with her large head and you surrendered the last of your apple to her.

“I just don’t want to lose her,” you said, petting the horse’s velvet nose as she chewed. “I lost so much time already, I don’t want to lose any more…”

“I know,” she said gently. “She will come around. I know she will. And in the mean time, we can drink about it.”

You laughed.

“Yeah, think I might need that.”

Julie hung out at the stable for a bit as you shoed a horse, talking to you about the date she’d gone on the day before with Karen, which had surprised you.

“Karen? Really? Wouldn’t have thought…”

“Yup,” Julie smirked a little. “What can I say, I have a good eye.”

“Are you just turning the women of Jackson?” You teased. “Wasn’t it Beth last month?”

“Maybe I am,” she teased back. “Someone needs to, Beth went out with Henry for like two months. Fucking Henry. It might be the apocalypse but options aren’t really THAT limited…”

It was a nice distraction, listening to her talk about her love life and the petty property line war happening between two of her neighbors as they went back and forth about whether or not one of their clothes lines pushed into the other’s yard and the new cocktail she was planning to roll out soon at the Tipsy Bison.

“She really will come around,” she said, dropping all pretense as she got ready to go get changed for her bartending shift. “You two love each other. She’ll understand eventually.”

You just smiled tightly.

“Thanks,” you said. “It really does help…”

“That’s what friends are for,” she said. “And if you come by the Bison tonight, I’ll even let you be one of the first to try the new drink. Take your mind off of family trouble, guaranteed.”

You laughed a little.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

You finished up early at the stable and, instead of heading for the mess hall like you normally would, you went home, hoping that Savvy would be there. But it was quiet when you came in and you sighed.

“Savvy?” You called anyway, hoping she would answer.

You took off your boots and went upstairs, knocking on her bedroom door all the same. She didn’t answer then, either.

So you took a shower, trying to not linger on what she said that morning. How she thought you’d abandoned her, forgotten her, thought that there was anything in the world that was as important as her.

You’d never told her about Mitchum. It didn’t feel right, you didn’t want her to have that in her head. But you weren’t sure how to explain your absence without it. It had never occurred to you that she would think you chose to be apart from her, as though you’d choose anything over being with her. But she did.

The chill of fall was settling in so you actually dried your hair before getting dressed and seeing if, maybe, Savvy had come home while you were in the shower. You went back to her bedroom door and just happened to look down as you went to knock. There was just a bit of paper poking out from below the door. You frowned and picked it up, pulling it out from below the door. On the paper was a note in Savvy’s haphazard scrawl.

Need space, it said. Find you eventually.

“No,” you breathed and flung her door open without bothering to knock.

Her bedroom was neat and organized and everything that she’d brought with her that she considered hers was gone. All her clothes, her backpack, the books that were on her nightstand, the carvings that she’d made. All that was left in the room that hadn’t been there when you moved in were two small carvings you’d made her: two deer, one large and one small. Both were rough, the limbs not quite the right proportions, but you’d been happy to make them, sitting next to her on your porch while you both worked in a way you’d never really done before.

“Well, I’m still learning,” you’d said, putting the figures in her open palm a few weeks earlier, before this cold distance had started growing between you. “And I don’t think I’ll ever be as good as you, you’re just a natural…”

“No, they’re really good, Mom,” she’d smiled. “I love them!”

They were there on her nightstand, the larger one knocked on its side as though the table had been jostled on her way out the door.

“No,” you shook your head, heart racing. “No, no, no, no, no…”

You took off, going two stairs at a time. She was gone, she’d left, she’d taken her things and left and you hadn’t even been able to find her the first time and she was gone and this time she chose it and Joel had been the one to find her last time, not you. Joel found her once. He could find her again.

You ran to Joel’s so fast you didn’t even close the door behind you as you left. The sun was setting and you almost ran into a couple walking home hand in hand as you careened around the corner. You barely even paused at Joel’s door, the fear and warning signs that usually took hold this close to his house buried deep below a fresh horror that your mind couldn’t wrap itself around yet. You ripped the screen door open and went to grab the knob of the main door when it opened before you touched it, Joel standing there in his boots, jacket half on.

“Bambi…”

“She’s gone,” you panted for breath. “Joel, she’s gone, she left, she left a note and took her things and I need your help, please, I need your help, I’ll never ask you for another thing, I promise I…”

“Bambi,” he said again, voice gentle. His big hands gently cupped your shoulders and pulled you inside. “It’s OK, I know, she’s here, she’s OK…”

“She’s here?” You grabbed his arms fingernails digging into the thick muscle of his biceps as you searched his face. “What do… she’s here?”

“She’s here,” he said again slowly, carefully. “She’s alright, I was just about to go find you and tell you so you wouldn’t worry. Need you to take a deep breath for me sweetheart, you’re gonna pass out if you’re not careful…”

You just nodded and let him guide you to the couch, your hands still clutching onto him. Standing on your own felt uncertain, like you were newly shaped and your legs at risk of collapse under the weight of yourself. Ellie came out of the kitchen, her arms crossed over her chest, a worried look on her face.

“Where is she?” You asked, looking from Joel to Ellie. “If she’s here…”

“She’s at my place,” Ellie said, shifting awkwardly, putting her hands in her back pockets. “She was really upset, she was there when I got home… I told her I was going to get us something to eat, I should get back…”

“Is she OK?” You asked, moving to stand but Joel held you in place. “Can I see her? I need to see her…”

“That’s probably not a good idea right this minute sweetheart,” Joel said. He sounded so calm.

“I need to see my daughter,” you looked at him, heart racing again. “You can’t… she’s my daughter, I need to see her, you can’t just keep me from her, she…”

“Not keeping you from her,” Joel cut you off. “But it sounds like she’s hurtin’ right now…”

“So you need to let me see her!” You yelled and Ellie’s eyes got wide, glancing quickly to the back door. “If she’s hurt I need to take care of her, she’s my child she’s not…”

“I know,” Joel said. “Physically, she’s fine. She’s upset, her feelings are hurt. Goin’ after her right this second might just make things worse. Think you need to give her some space.”

“I’ll look out for her,” Ellie said quietly. “I’m sure she’ll get over it quick but… I’ll look out for her. At least for tonight, Bambi. She’s… It’s like how I was with Joel. If you push her too far she might not stay with us and I don’t know if we could stop her if she decided to go, she’s stubborn as hell.”

“She’s OK,” Joel said, his hands still firmly on your shoulders. “She’s safe, she’s with Ellie. She’s alright.”

You just nodded and tried to breathe through it. Joel turned Ellie, still holding onto you. You were thankful for that, his hands a grounding force that were holding you inside yourself. It seemed like you might split into disparate beings without him.

“Why don’t you get on back, baby girl,” he said to Ellie. “Take some of the leftovers from the fridge, keep an eye on her. Don’t let her go anywhere alone, OK?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I will. I’ll take care of her, Bambi. I really will.”

You nodded again and closed your eyes, listening as Ellie gathered things from the kitchen, the back door slamming behind her. You took a deep, shaky breath and opened your eyes again, lashes wet.

“Joel,” you said, voice thick.

“Gonna hold you,” he said gently. “That OK?”

You trembled and nodded and he pulled you against his broad chest and you collapsed against him, sobbing so hard you couldn’t breathe.

“You’re alright,” he said gently, one thick arm looping around your waist, the other going around your shoulder so his hand could cradle your head to him. “She’s OK, you’re both alright…”

You clung to him, your arms snaking up his back, fingers clutching so hard at his shoulder blades that part of you was worried you were hurting him but you couldn’t make yourself stop. It was a struggle to breathe through your tears, gulping in air that smelled like Joel’s skin and cedar and laundry soap. It was like your body forgot to be afraid of him now, so desperate for something to hold on to that it didn’t matter anymore.

His hand traced a slow, soft pattern from your hair down your spine before starting over again and you felt his lips press into the crown of your head, lingering there as you shook in his arms.

“Shhh,” he soothed, starting to rock you gently. “S’alright. I’ve got you and her, you’re alright.”

He said it over and over and you concentrated on the rise and fall of his chest, the smell of his skin, the gentle motion of him. Eventually, you quieted, hiccuping as your tears slowed and your breaths caught up with your body. His rocking slowed, too, but he kept holding onto you, his nose nestled in your hair until your grip on him loosened and he relaxed as you sat back from him.

“You with me?” He asked gently, one hand still loosely on your arm. He went to take his hand back but you caught it and he froze.

“I’m sorry but…” You fought to not hyperventilate again. “If… can you…”

“Do whatever you want with me, sweetheart,” he said and you nodded, moving so you were tucked against his side and your head was on his chest. He sat, stock still, as you guided his arm around your waist and you pressed yourself closer. It felt better with him here like this. He’d brought Savvy home, he’d take care of her, you could trust that. You could trust him.

“What happened?” He asked quietly after you’d settled against him.

“She found out that we were together,” you said, your voice raw. “And she just… she thinks I forgot about her, that I was just here and happy with you the whole time she was out there alone and…”

“You didn’t tell her what happened to you?” He asked softly.

“No,” you shook your head into his chest.

“Baby…”

“She’s 15,” you said softly. “She doesn’t know how bad it is out there, she didn’t grow up with shit like girls before, she never had to learn to be afraid of men. I still remember the first time a grown man grabbed my ass when I walked by and I was 13 and I don’t… she doesn’t need to know about all that, Joel. I don’t want her to know about that and I don’t want her to look at me and think about that, she can’t…”

“She should know that you tried,” he said, his hand going in a slow, easy path from your shoulder to your elbow. “She should know that you fought for her.”

“I don’t want her to know,” you whispered, tears slipping from you again even though it seemed like you shouldn’t have any more left in you. “Please, I can talk to her some other way, please don’t tell her, please…”

“Won’t tell her,” he said gently. “S’OK Bambi.”

You remembered the look on her face this morning, the anger and the hurt there and you pressed a strangled sob into Joel’s chest as he held you closer.

“She hates me,” your voice shook. “And I don’t blame her, I should’ve tried harder, I gave up on her, I let him lie to me and…”

“You did everything you could,” Joel cut you off. “And you protected her. She was alone out there but she survived because you let her escape and you taught her what she needed to know so she could live. You did everything you could, baby, everything.”

You nodded, even though you didn’t really believe it, and curled in on yourself, your whole body against him now.

“Can I stay here tonight?” You asked softly. “I don’t want to be far from her, I can’t…”

“Course,” Joel said. “I’ll go make up the bed for you, you can stay there, I’ll take the couch…”

“No,” you shook your head. “No, I want to be down here, if she comes inside…”

“OK,” he said gently. “Want me to stay with you?”

“Please,” your fingers tangled in his flannel.

“OK,” he said again. He just held you for a while before getting some blankets and a pillow out of a cupboard you didn’t remember holding them before and you realized it had been almost half a year since you’d been in Joel’s house. Things about it had changed. So much time had passed but really, none at all. Joel got you water and made you drink two tall glasses of it and eat an apple before he stretched out on the couch and you folded yourself in around him. It had been months but your body still remembered how to wrap around his to sleep, where your head fit best against his chest, how your leg best hitched over his, how his arm draped over you.

“I can’t lose her, Joel,” you whispered into the dark. “I can’t, not again. I have to fix this.”

“It’ll be OK,” he said, his fingers trailing over your bicep. “She’ll understand. Don’t give up, it’ll be OK.”

The next morning, Ellie came to the kitchen with the excuse of needing tea and found you and Joel still asleep on the couch. She assured you that Savvy was still there and had asked to stay for a while. Ellie had already said yes.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, head still fuzzy from sleep and the emotional turmoil the night before.

“I’ll go talk to her,” Joel said as Ellie headed out. You opened your mouth to fight him on it but he held up a palm, silencing you. “Just to lay down some ground rules. Not gonna tell her she needs to go back to yours or tell her anything about what happened to you. Just gotta set some expectations, that’s all. OK?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Yeah, OK…”

He got you more water and draped the blanket around your hunched shoulders before he went back to Ellie’s. It felt like he was gone an eternity before he came back, settling in beside you on the couch again. His hand found the middle of your back, moving over you in slow, soothing circles.

“She’s still pretty pissed,” he said softly. You nodded. “Told her she can stay as long as she wants but no boys spending the night, needs to go to school every day and show me her progress, she’s gotta eat three meals a day and be in for the night by 9 every night.”

You nodded, your fingers knotting and twisting together.

“OK,” you said. “That’s… that’s good, she’ll go for that, I think.”

“Seemed receptive,” he said. “She’s a good kid, raised her right. She’ll come around. It’ll be OK.”

You nodded and pressed your face into his shoulder, letting his soft flannel soak up your tears yet again.

It was the start of a new kind of friendship with Joel. You came by every day now after you were done at the stable, Joel giving you a report on Savvy, both what she told you and how she seemed. He said he was trying to gently nudge her into talking to you again but she got worked up when you were mentioned.

“Don’t push her,” you said after you’d been in this strange limbo with your daughter for two weeks. You’d hardly slept or eaten and you could feel yourself starting to almost seep out of your body, little pieces floating away into the ether the longer you were separated from her when she was so close. You wondered how Joel had survived it as long as he did with Ellie. “I don’t want to hurt her any more than I have…”

“Should think about telling her, Baby,” Joel said softly.

“I know you think so,” you said, arms crossed tight over your chest. “But… I can get her back without that, she doesn’t… she doesn’t need all that in her head, Joel, she doesn’t.”

He nodded slowly and sighed as you headed back to your cold, almost empty house.

When it had become clear that Savvy wasn’t going to come home in just a day or two, you’d gone to where the working dogs of Jackson lived and asked to bring Gattling home with you. You’d been so excited to see her once you could actually wrap your head around the fact that she’d come back with Savvy, too, but she’d always been a working dog. She was used to having something to do all day everyday and you knew she’d be happier helping on guard duty or protect the livestock with regular visits from you and Savvy. Now, though, you picked her up on your way home so you wouldn’t be alone.

That was an adjustment, too. Gattling was cagey around you when she first came to Jackson, skeptical of you even though she clearly remembered you. But she’d warmed up to you again now and greeted you with a wagging tail every night. She followed you obediently around your house and curled up next to you in bed, sighing her heavy dog sighs as she settled in to sleep and you thought that this was what life had been for your daughter for the past four years. Having no one but her horse and her dog because you’d left her to fend for herself in the wilderness.

It took until November for you to feel at all adjusted to this new way of things with Savvy. You saw her in the mess hall, scheduling your day so that you had the best chance at seeing her in the morning or the evening, just to catch a glimpse of her and see that she was whole and happy. You tried to catch her eye and hoped she’d do something besides glare at you eventually, that you’d be able to actually talk to her at some point. It hadn’t happened yet.

But you couldn’t let yourself completely break down into nothing.You knew that. So you started trying to eat something and tried to do beyond the bare minimum in your day. Julie came by in the afternoon and you took a walk. You talked to Joel about something outside of Savvy. You even played your guitar - though you made the mistake of playing Sweet Child of Mine and dissolved into tears, Gattling licking your face and whimpering as you lay curled on the cool wood of your living room floor.

You’d found a semblance of a life again, taking comfort in knowing that Savvy was alive and healthy, even if you didn’t get to hear her voice or see her smile. You were focusing on that in the afternoon when you heard Ellie coming toward the stables, her voice oddly chipper and friendly, odd enough that you frowned and watched the doors as she came in, hoof pick in your hand as you worked on shoeing a horse.

“Stables are here,” Ellie said, leading a man who had to be close to Joel’s height inside. “You’re starting up patrol and if you end up in the regular rotation, you’ll probably be here a lot and you’ll get assigned a regular horse to take out. I usually go on Shimmer… Oh, that’s Bambi, she runs the place.”

The man turned so that you could see his face and you froze, grip on the pick tightening.

You were surprised you hadn’t recognized him from behind. You always thought you’d know him immediately, sense when he was even remotely close to you. But he’d made it here, to the heart of Jackson, into your stables, and you hadn’t known. You’d heard that someone had come in with a patrol the week before but you hadn’t heard a name or seen anyone new in town since then. You weren’t worried about it, you had enough else on your mind without concerning yourself with a new arrival.

But you should have been. You should have been very worried.

“Bambi,” Ellie smiled brightly, leading the newcomer toward you. You lowered Ares’ hoof slowly to the ground and shifted the hoof pick to your left hand, holding it so tight you were sure your knuckles were white. “This is Cody, he’s going to start out on patrol soon, he’s going out with Joel soon…”

He stood there, looking at you, his jaw tight for a moment. After what felt like a small eternity, he held out his hand.

“Bambi, is it?” He asked. “Nice to meet you.”

You didn’t take his hand. The thought of touching him turned your stomach.

“Ellie,” you said, not taking your eyes off him. “Shimmer is out in the paddock, do me a favor and take her around once, make sure she’s walking OK after I shoed her and bring her in.”

“What?” Ellie laughed a little. “I’m kind of in the middle of…”

“It can wait,” you snapped, still watching him. “I can introduce him to a horse, do what I’m telling you to do.”

“Alright, Jesus,” she muttered, stomping off to obey. Cody watched her go before turning to you.

“Good to see you,” he smiled a little. “Wasn’t sure if you’d actually made it…”

He moved to close the gap between you and you stepped back on instinct, your heart beating so fast it drowned out the sound of his voice. You could remember exactly how he felt inside of you, how his breath felt on your skin, the self righteous look on his face because he thought he was better than the others because he didn’t get off on hurting you. Your head spun.

“Stay the fuck back,” you hissed, adjusting your grip on the hoof pick.

He frowned. “Why? Come on, you know I’m not dangerous…”

“Like fuck I know that,” you snapped. “You’re just as dangerous as the rest of them. What, are you here to do recon?”

“No,” he snapped. “I left.”

“Good for you,” you said. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

“Don’t think that’s the way you want to talk to the guy who saved your life,” he said, eyes narrowing. “Feel like you owe me a little more than that…”

“Don’t owe you a goddamn thing,” you said. “Didn’t kill you that night. Far as I’m concerned? Life for a life, we’re even.”

That was a lie but he didn’t need to know that. You wished you could bring yourself to kill him but you didn’t think you could. He had saved your life, had been kinder to you than most of Mitchum’s men even if he had hurt you. You weren’t sure if he deserved to die, you didn’t think you could handle killing him.

“Hardly counts as even,” he said, taking a step toward you. “You know I wasn’t like them, you know I was different…”

Another step and something inside you snapped. It didn’t matter that you were in Jackson, that he had saved your life by getting you away from Mitchum, Cody was a threat. You knew what he was capable of and he was here with you and your daughters.

You met him in the middle, catching him off guard. He moved to touch you in some way - hug you, grab you, you weren’t sure - and you threw your left arm over his throat, your right into his chest, shoving him back against a stall, putting one knee between his legs so you could hit him in the groin if he tried to move and pressed the tip of the dirty hoof pick to his throat.

“What the fuck!” He yelped, his chest heaving.

“Gonna give you this one warning,” you said through clenched teeth. “You stay away from me, you stay away from my girls. I catch you even glancing their way, let alone talking to or touching one of ‘em? I will rip your goddamn throat out, do you understand me?”

“How am I supposed to know who your girls…”

“Any girl here,” you seethed. Your stomach turned at your body being so close to his but you forced yourself to stay on him, keep the pick pressed to his throat. “But Ellie and the girl she lives with? They’re mine and if you think the fact that I owe you my life would save you if you touched them, you got another thing comin’.”

You heard the scrape of the door and you stepped back from him, chest heaving, lowering the pick. He stayed back against the stall, his eyes wide and darting from you to the door.

“She’s walking fine,” Ellie said, leading Shimmer in from the paddock. “Don’t know why you were worried, anyone knows how to shoe a damn horse around here, it’s you.”

She put Shimmer in her stall and went toward Cody but you stepped in front of her, putting your arm out to keep her behind you. Cody’s eyes narrowed.

“What…” Ellie began but you cut her off.

“You supposed to show him anything else?” You asked, not looking back at her and keeping your eyes on Cody.

“Just here,” she said. “How the stables work, shit like that. But…”

“I think he’s fine from here,” you cut her off again. “Why don’t you go to the school, walk Savvy home.”

“Bambi?”

“Go, Ellie,” you snapped.

“Fine, Jesus,” she muttered just as Joel came in and she ducked around him. Your eyes darted his way but you looked back at Cody almost immediately, not willing to let him out of your sight. You saw Ellie go out of the corner of your eye, keeping Cody pinned to where he was with your gaze. Your grip was still tight on the pick.

You could feel Joel’s eyes on you as he moved slowly to stand at your back. You could feel him there, close behind you at your shoulder, the heat and strength of him there.

“Everything alright here?” He asked, his voice deep, empty of the warmth you’d come to associate with him.

“Fine,” Cody said, his eyes darting up to Joel before going back to you.

“He was just leaving,” you said. “Weren’t you.”

He just looked at you for a long moment.

“Yeah,” he said eventually. “I was.”

“Better get moving then,” Joel said, dark and dangerous, like every word was a threat.

Cody kept his eyes on Joel then, slowly moving around you, staying out of arm’s reach until he had a clear path to the door. Only then did he turn his back to you, putting his hands in his pockets and closing the door behind him.

The second he was gone, the pick slipped from your fingers and hit the concrete of the stable floor with a clatter. You couldn’t breathe. It took you a moment to realize you were shaking, your heart racing. You clutched at your chest and stumbled to the stall you’d thrown Cody into, collapsing against it as you struggled to get enough air.

Here. Cody was here, in Jackson. He knew you, he knew where you were, he’d been with Ellie, he was where Savvy was…

“Bambi,” Joel’s hands were on you, one at your ribs and the other taking yours, his thick, long fingers closing around your own completely. “Gotta breathe for me, baby, gotta breathe through it…”

You just nodded and tried to listen but it wasn’t working.

“Here,” he said, guiding your hand to his chest and holding it there. “Match me, OK? Gonna push everything out first…” you exhaled with him, nodding as you did. “Now in.”

He breathed in slow and deep and you tried to keep pace with him, focusing on how he felt next to you, his heartbeat below your hand, the warmth of his body.

“Talk to me,” he said once your breaths had slowed and your shaking had eased. He stopped holding your hand to his chest but you left it there, holding onto him. “What’s wrong, what did he do? He touch you?”

“No,” you shook your head, taking a deep, shaky breath. “No, he didn’t touch me. It’s fine, it’s OK…”

“He did something,” Joel said and you looked up at him, into those soft, brown eyes that had been home for so long and you missed him. You missed him so much you thought your chest might crack open with it, the ache in your heart too big to be contained by your skin and ribs. You missed how safe you felt with him, how much he felt like home. You moved slowly, cautiously, until your arms were looped around his waist. He hesitated and then he was enveloping you, clutching you close and tight and you could hear his heart racing in his chest. You felt his lips and nose brush the top of your head before he tucked you below his chin, his large hand cradling your skull as though you were some precious, treasured thing.

“Talk to me,” he said again, quietly, holding you closer. “What’d he do? You can tell me, I’ll handle it…”

“Nothing that you can handle,” you said, your voice thick.

“Watch me.”

“Joel,” you nuzzled closer to him and breathed deep.

“Tell me,” he said. “Let me help you, take care of you. Please.”

You just held onto him, focusing on him as he swayed just a little with you, almost like you would rock a restless child.

“He one of them?” He asked eventually, deathly quiet.

You pulled back from him ever so slightly, looking up into his eyes and you watched the warmth slip away from them as he answered the question for himself.

“I’ll kill him.”

“No,” you shook your head, holding him tighter. “No, you can’t…”

“Why,” he was straining to stay calm, you could feel it in his body. “Don’t matter that he’s here, I’ll kill him in the street like the goddamn animal he is…”

“He saved my life,” you said. “He… he hurt me but I wouldn’t be here without him, he got me out, I owe him my life, I can’t… he can’t die because of me. I told him he needs to stay away from Ellie, from Savvy…”

“Baby,” he breathed holding your face in his hand and you closed your eyes, trying to stay focused on him and not lose yourself to the panic that was still at the edges.

“I’ve handled it, Joel,” you said after a moment, opening your eyes. He was still watching you intently. “If he tries something with them I’ll kill him myself but you can’t kill him, Joel. Not now. He can’t die because of me, not after he saved my life. I can’t live with that. Please.”

He sighed and pulled your head into his chest, his cheek pressing into you.

“Won’t kill him,” Joel said. “But I should. And I swear to God he even glances at you or the girls I will rip him apart. I’m sorry, baby, but I will.”

You just nodded into his chest and he held you close and you wished you had one of his shirts again so you could wrap yourself in the scent of him and keep his warmth and safety close when he left.

Ares’ large head nudged your shoulder and he huffed and you laughed, separating from Joel enough to see him there, one hoof off balance from the others.

“Right,” you laughed and sniffed a little. “I was shoeing you before we were interrupted, wasn’t I?”

His head bobbed once in what you’d call a nod if you didn’t know better and you dried your cheeks with the back of your sleeve, separating from Joel and picking the hoof pick up from where you’d dropped it in your panic.

“Thank you,” you said to him quietly.

“Course.”

“Not just for this,” you said. “For everything the last few weeks. With Savvy. I don’t… I don’t know if I could have gotten through it on my own and…”

“Always gonna look out for you,” Joel said. “Doesn’t matter if we’re not… Always going to take care of you how I can.”

You nodded and he cleared his throat awkwardly, looking to the side at nothing.

“Should probably get back,” he said. “I was just passin’ by, thought I’d… I dunno, say hi. Or… somethin’. Didn’t have any business here… Anyway. I’ll see you tonight, give you the Savvy update after I check in with her.”

You nodded again and he gave you a sad, tight smile before leaving you to your work.

***

It took everything Joel had inside himself to not go find Cody and kill him.

He’d seen the man a few times as he was introduced around town and he’d seemed decent enough. Tommy had been encouraged by his shooting test results, happy to have another skilled man out on patrol.

Fuck, how was he supposed to let this man come back from patrol alive?

He’d hurt you. He terrified you, that much was clear. Joel wasn’t sure he wanted the details of what Cody had done to you but, whatever they were, Joel wanted to do at least ten times that to him. He wanted to do more than kill him. He wanted to feel the life leave his body and know that he’d made it happen. He wanted to hear him hurt, he wanted to make him beg. He wanted him to be helpless and at his mercy and he wanted him to know why. That his actions had brought his pain, that he was only receiving what he was due.

But he couldn’t hurt you.

It seemed like you were finally, maybe, starting to trust him again. You’d slept on him the night Savvy came to Ellie’s, you’d wanted him to hold you today. It was like you were finding comfort instead of fear with him now. He couldn’t hurt you, especially not now.

Joel showered when he got home, changing out of his shirt and putting on a clean one. If you did think he was safe, if the way you calmed when your face was against his chest was any indication, he might be able to help you this way, too.

The girls were home before he was and he went to Ellie’s, the music inside loud enough that he could hear it through the door. He knocked once and he heard a high pitched giggle before Ellie called for him to come in.

Savvy was laying broadside on Ellie’s bed, her head dangling over the side of it, her curls brushing the ground, a comic book laying across her chest. Ellie stretched to turn down her boombox, a notebook open on her lap.

“Hi Joel,” she said in her lightly teasing tone. “Here to do the daily old man check in?”

“What can I say,” he replied. “I’m a creature of habit.”

“Well, I helped out at the mess hall this morning,” Ellie said. “Getting ready to go out on patrol with Dina in a few days…”

“First overnight patrol without me,” Joel nodded. “Still feelin’ OK?”

“It’s getting cold, probably won’t even see any infected,” she said. “And haven’t seen shit for other trouble lately. Think we can handle some scary deer and shit.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Joel cautioned, though he smiled a little all the same. “But I think you’ll do just fine.” He turned to Savvy. “And how about you?”

She sighed and he was reminded for the millionth time since Savvy had moved in with Ellie of Sarah. It hurt less now, looking at her. He was sure it was sharper because she was only a year older than Sarah had been when he lost her, her hallmarks of teenage independence the same as any other teenager’s, including his daughter’s.

“Still hate math,” she said. “It’s boring. Why do I need to know how to calculate stuff like that? Maybe it was important before but it’s useless now.”

“Need people who can do math to help build and maintain things around here,” Joel said. “Afraid that means you have to study it.”

“Ms. Parker says I’m catching up,” she said. “I borrowed a new book, Catcher in the Rye…”

“She talked to a boy,” Ellie drew out the last word, smirking.

“Ellie!” Savvy shot up, twisting herself around on the bed so she was facing Joel and Ellie. She grabbed the pillow at the head of the bed and threw it at Ellie, who caught it and laughed. “Shut up!”

“Boy, huh?” Joel asked, treading lightly. His hand clenched into a fist at his side anyway. “Boy from school?”

Savvy sighed and nodded and Joel’s fist relaxed. A boy from school, not a new man in town.

“His name is Kyle,” Ellie teased.

“Ellie!” Savvy hissed, eyes wide. “Shut up!”

“Long as he’s a nice boy,” Joel said, trying to picture a kid in town named Kyle. “Respectful. All that.”

“He’s fine,” Ellie said, serious now. “Kind of a dork but fine.”

“Shut up,” Savvy said again, more pouty this time. “I think he’s cute.”

“Well you and your bad taste can have him,” Ellie shrugged.

“Thank you,” Savvy said, smug, relaxing a bit onto the bed and picking up the comic book that had fallen to the side. “But that’s all. Not much to report.”

Joel nodded slowly.

“Good. Just… One more thing. Need you girls to do me a favor.”

Savvy just nodded but Ellie frowned, her eyebrows knitting together. Joel took a deep breath.

“Need you girls to stay away from that new man in town,” he said. “His name’s Cody. He tries to talk to you, come tell me or your mom…”

“Why?” Ellie’s frown deepened. “What happened?”

“Just tryin’ to be safe,” Joel said. “Don’t know him yet, you’re both young. Want to make sure you’re protected is all.”

Savvy just shrugged and nodded, already getting distracted by the comic book. Ellie was still frowning.

“Ellie.”

“Sure,” she said eventually. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Good,” he nodded. “You girls behave. Let me know if you go out, OK?”

“OK,” Savvy said, flopping back down on the bed and holding the comic book over her head.

Joel turned to leave and the volume on the boombox went back up but Ellie caught his arm as soon when he wasn’t even half way back to the house. He frowned, looking down to her.

“What’s up baby girl?”

“What’s wrong with Cody,” she said more than asked.

“Ellie…”

“It’s something,” she said. “I’m not a fucking idiot, Joel. Bambi practically kicked me out of the stable today, you’re telling me to stay away from him… what’s the deal.”

He sighed and tightened his jaw.

“Bambi’s come across him before,” he said eventually. “Doesn’t trust him. Best for you girls to stay away for now.”

She watched him for a moment, skeptical.

“You gonna let him live?” Ellie asked eventually.

Joel could have hugged her, his daughter so like him in this way, for better or for worse.

“For now,” he said. “She doesn’t want him dead so, for now, he keeps breathin’. On thin ice, though.”

Ellie nodded.

“I’ll look out for Savvy,” she said, turning to go back inside before turning back to Joel. “I think you should kill him. And if I see him try to fuck with either of them? I’ll do it myself.”

She didn’t give him a chance to respond, just going back in, Joel hearing a laugh from from just beyond the door before he headed home himself.

You came by a few hours later, seeming much more like yourself when you did. He gave you the rundown and you seemed happy about Savvy talking to a boy, something that made Joel raise his eyebrows.

“No, Ellie’s right, I’ve seen him around, he’s kind of a dork,” you smiled a little. “Harmless kid. But… I want that for her, you know? Want her to have someone she can have a crush on and feel giddy about…” You looked, longingly, out the window to the backyard.

“She’ll talk to you about it,” Joel said. “Once she figures herself out. She’ll tell you.”

You nodded and smiled tightly at him and went to leave when he stopped you.

“I… uh…” he awkwardly cupped the back of his neck, not entirely sure what to do with his hands. “Earlier, at the stable… I know, back before, you liked the coat and things because of the smell and… anyway.” He picked up the shirt he’d changed out of just before you came over, the one he’d put on clean that afternoon, and handed it to you. “Thought… seemed like it might be helpful again. Wanted to help, if it was.”

You took the folded shirt and watched him as you lifted it, slowly, to your nose before you closed your eyes and breathed deep before you clutched it to your chest, crossing your arms tightly over it.

“You gonna be OK over there?” He asked. “Can always stay here if you’re worried…”

“I can’t let him drive me out of my house,” you shook your head. “Besides. Got Gattling. She’ll rip his throat out and save me the trouble.”

“If you change your mind,” he said. “Can always come over here.”

You nodded and held the shirt a little tighter.

“Thanks, Joel,” you said. “I appreciate it.”

He hardly slept that night, staring up at the ceiling, remembering the fear on your face the second Cody was gone. How you’d trembled and cried, how you were reduced to that much fear by his presence.

It didn’t matter what Cody had done for you, Joel was going to take care of it. Saving your life didn’t forgive his sins. He couldn’t have a man like that here with you, with Ellie and Savvy. He was going to take care of it.

Joel beat you to the stables that morning and you frowned when you walked up, hands in the pockets of your jacket. He could just see a hint of the plaid flannel of the shirt he’d given you the night before peeking out over the collar.

“You’re usually not this much of an early riser,” you said, letting the two of you into the stable. “Patrol doesn’t leave for another hour…”

“Figured I’d get the horses,” he said.

“Joel.”

“Not lettin’ him near you,” he said. “Not if I can do something about it.”

You just nodded and started getting Ares and Cassiopeia ready. Joel took over Ares, giving the horse a good scratch behind the ears as he worked.

“You should take Ares,” you said, adjusting the saddle on the mare. “He’s harder to control, I have no idea about… about his abilities. Can’t risk a horse getting hurt because a rider isn’t up to snuff and on an animal that’s too powerful for him.”

“I’ll make sure I bring your horses back alright, Bambi,” he said gently, watching as you busied yourself, checking buckles more times than you normally would.

When you handed him the reins, your fingers lingered on his palm.

“You can’t kill him,” you said quietly, all but begging him with your eyes. “Please. I can’t have that on my conscious…”

“Not gonna kill him,” Joel said, reaching out slowly, cautiously, to cup your cheek. You closed your eyes and pressed against his palm and he had to resist the urge to kiss you. “I’ll bring him back in one piece. Promise.”

You nodded against him and he led the horses outside and waited for Cody to arrive.

Joel had to fight to be civil to the man. He introduced himself, apologized for the awkwardness the day before as the two of them made their way outside the walls of town.

“Really not sure what got into her,” he laughed after he and Joel had been riding for a few hours and were taking a break, getting ready to turn around and head back. “Know her well? Bambi, think they said her name was?”

Joel shrugged.

“Really not trying to get on people’s bad side this early,” he said and Joel could see how he’d lasted as long as he had in town. He was easy going, charming. It was hard to picture him running with raiders. “Never found a place quite like Jackson, don’t want to spoil it too soon.”

“Don’t get comfortable,” Joel said, resting a hand on the pistol at his side. “You won’t be stayin’ long.”

The man frowned.

“What…”

“Know who you are,” Joel said, straining to keep his voice calm as he stepped closer. He only had about two inches on Cody and he was at least a decade older but that didn’t matter. If it came down to a fight, Joel knew who would win. “Know what you did. You ain’t stayin’ in Jackson.”

Cody’s confused face turned angry and entitled and Joel could see him as a raider now. The switch flipped quickly from charismatic man who could talk his way into places into one who wasn’t bothered by hurting and killing to get what he wanted.

“I don’t know what she told you but…”

“Didn’t need her to tell me,” he said. “Knew from how she was looking at you. You’re one of ‘em and you hurt her.”

“No,” he snapped. “No, I never fucking hurt her, I was always careful, never was like what they were…”

“You really think that matters?” Joel asked, his voice flat. He tried not to think about what he used to be, the things he used to let happen. “Think it makes a damn difference to me?”

Cody lunged for him, trying to punch Joel in the face but he dodged him easily. Joel shoved the other man to the ground before catching his shoulder with his boot, forcing him onto his back. Joel dropped to one knee, putting it in the middle of Cody’s chest and yanking his gun from the holster, tossing it over by the horses before looking down at him, his head cocked to the side as the man’s hand scrambled over Joel’s leg, clawing for some weakness he wouldn’t find.

“Can’t just kill me,” he panted up at him eventually. “They’ll know…”

“They wouldn’t,” Joel shook his head. “Just say we ran into infected, you got bit, had to shoot you. Unfortunate loss but the merciful way to go. Hell, they’d even console me for havin’ to do it. No, killing you’d be easy. But I’m not gonna do that.”

“Bullshit,” he hissed. “Just do it, get it over with.”

“Nah,” Joel shook his head, clenching his jaw for a moment. He had to remind himself that he couldn’t kill Cody. It didn’t matter how good it’d feel to pull pain from his body, to watch him scream and beg, he’d promised you. “If I was going to kill you, it’d be slow. Painful. Only get to kill you for what you did once, better be damn sure I’m gonna enjoy it. I’d enjoy it plenty with you.”

“You’re a monster,” he managed through gritted teeth.

Joel shrugged.

“Maybe. But I’m her monster. And she asked me not to kill you. Said you got her out so she owes you her life. This is her repaying that, understand? If it were up to me, you’d be dead today. But that’s not what she wants.

“So here’s whats going to happen,” he continued. “We’re gonna ride back to Jackson like nothing happened at all. You’re gonna stay in town for two days and you’re gonna talk to people. You’re gonna be restless, you’re gonna say you miss being outside. Two days after we get back, you leave with what you came with, no more. You’ll go far away from here and you won’t tell a single goddamn soul about our town or about her. I catch you so much as looking at her or our daughters? I’ll kill you in the middle of town, I don’t give a shit. When you go, you’ll stay gone. Ever come back? I’ll kill you. I find out you told anyone about where she is? There ain’t a corner of this planet you’ll be able to hide from me. I will hunt you down like a fuckin’ dog and you’ll wish I killed you now, just the way I want to. I bein’ clear?”

Cody just glared at him and Joel sighed before grabbing a fistful of the man’s hair, forcing him to look him in the eye.

“I asked you a question,” Joel said, leaning in close. “Did I make myself clear?”

“Yes,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“Repeat it.”

“I leave in two days,” he said. “And don’t breathe a word.”

Joel released his hair.

“Good,” he said. “Don’t want to hear another goddamn sound from you the rest of the day unless it’s warnin’ me about infected because I’m taking your fuckin’ guns. And you best keep her name out of your goddamn mouth the next two days or I’ll make you regret it. Understood?”

He nodded once and Joel lifted his knee from his chest before hefting him to his feet.

“On your fuckin’ horse,” he said. “Move.”

The rest of patrol was, at least, easy. Joel spent most of it keeping an eye on Cody but did notice signs of a large group of infected moving through somewhat recently, most likely migrating south for the winter. He made a note of it but he doubted it’d be worth following up on this late in the season.

When the two of them got back to town, Cody still looked off balance. Angry, entitled, like he was thinking of picking a fight he wouldn’t win. Joel just took his horse outside the stables.

“Remember what we talked about,” Joel said. “Two days from now and you’re gone or I’ll make you go.”

“Got it,” he seethed, looking murderous. Joel didn’t care.

“Good. Get the fuck out of here.”

You were waiting inside the stables, perched on the side of Perseus’ stall, stroking his neck. You stiffened when Joel came in but relaxed when you realized he was alone. You were wearing his shirt.

“Where’s Cody?” You frowned, coming and taking Cassiopeia’s reins. “Joel, you promised…”

“He’s fine,” Joel cut you off. “Sent him home. Told you I’d let him live so he’s alive. No intent of changin’ that.”

You nodded slowly, starting to take the horse’s tack off.

“Thank you,” you said quietly. “I’m sure that wasn’t easy…”

“It’s your decision,” he replied. “Don’t matter what I want.”

You nodded again and the two of you slowly, methodically stripped down the horses side by side.

Joel saw you catch a glimpse of Cody in the mess hall the next day, he saw the shiver pass through you as you spotted him and all but ran for the doors instead of staying for breakfast. He had to fight the urge to kill him then, knowing how he still hurt you. But he resisted. It should be up to you, he wasn’t about to take that from you.

It was a relief when word spread two days later that Cody had left in the night. He’d even given the guards at the gate a note to pass to the council, saying exactly what Joel had told him to say. That he missed being outside and didn’t feel like Jackson was a good fit, that he’d be no trouble and doubted he’d come back.

“Weird that he’d just leave like that,” Maria said as she, Joel and Tommy sat around her and Tommy’s kitchen table, making sure they had all the coverage they needed for the patrol leaving the next morning. It was going to be a big one, a few groups going out overnight, including Ellie with her friend Dina. “Rough on us, too. He was a solid patrol prospect…”

“Can’t force a man to stay who don’t want to stay,” Tommy shrugged, bouncing William on his knee, trying to settle him. “His spot is open now though… think Bambi would be OK to fill in? Olivia can cover the stable for a few days and that’s one of the easier routes, s’why we were sending the new guy out on it. And it’s with Julie, her and Bambi are friends, right?”

“Doubt she’d mind,” Joel shrugged. William reached and groped for him so he held out a finger and smiled as the toddler wrapped his chubby hands around it. “Been a bit since she was on a patrol.”

“Perfect,” Maria said, noting it in a journal and on a map. “You two go to the lookout to take over for Jesse and Eugene, Ellie and Dina can cover this territory, Bambi and Julie here. One last go round for the big stuff before the snow flies.”

“Assuming we make it back before snow flies,” Tommy said. Maria scoffed. “Bein’ serious, it’s on the way, can feel it.”

“Just because your joints are getting old…” she said and Tommy laughed.

“Don’t start on his age,” Joel said, getting up and stretching. “Don’t even want to think about what that means for mine.”

“You goin’ to the dance later?” Tommy asked. “You and Bambi been looking a bit closer lately…”

“Don’t start on that either,” Joel said. “And figured I’d stay home. Worried I’d cramp Ellie’s style if I went, kid seems pretty damn excited.”

“We can keep an eye on her,” Maria said. “Savvy, too, especially since she’s coming here tomorrow while you and Ellie are patrolling.”

“Appreciate that,” Joel nodded. “See you in the morning?”

“Be there bright and early,” Tommy replied.

Joel took the long way home, pausing outside your house for a moment, checking the status of your woodpile. It would be OK for a bit but he made a plan to come chop more for you, make sure you had a good stockpile before the cold really set in.

Ellie and Savvy had left for the dance before he got home and he took advantage of the quiet. It was chilly but not freezing so he settled on the porch with his guitar, not playing anything in particular. Instead, he was thinking of you.

He wasn’t sure where to go from here. Things felt better than they had in months. You leaned into his touch. You were wearing his shirt. He wanted to let you have control. You deserved that much, at least. He didn’t want to push things or rush you. He didn’t want to push you away but, more importantly, he didn’t want to hurt you. But he missed you. He wanted you back so bad it hurt. He had this underlying fear that he’d never move past this point, this constant longing, no matter what he did. He just didn’t know how to fix it.

Joel lost track of time out there, Ellie and Savvy coming back eventually, Savvy giggling and Ellie’s eyes wide.

“Everything OK kiddo?” Joel frowned as she cut around the house. “Have a good time?”

“Oh she had a great time,” Savvy giggled and Ellie elbowed her, only making her laugh harder.

“It was great,” Ellie said.

“Yeah it was,” Savvy said in a tone that made Joel think of you.

“Shut up,” Ellie hissed and Savvy giggled again. “We’re going to bed, some of us have to get up early.”

“Bet you wouldn’t say that if I were…” Savvy said but Ellie cut her off.

“OK, goodnight Joel!” She said, shoving Savvy playfully toward the back. “See you tomorrow…”

Joel tried not to laugh as he watched the girls dissolve into giggles as they went inside and he shook his head a little before going in himself to make a cup of coffee, something he figured he’d regret when he couldn’t sleep but it sounded too good. But he made the most of it, putting it in his favorite mug, one that Ellie liked to tease him about because of the owl but that just made him like it more.

He wondered if Tommy was right about the snow. He leaned on the railing of the porch, looking up into the dark. The skies were clear and he could see the constellations that you and Ellie both loved so much. He’d been looking for a good telescope for Ellie for years now and nights like tonight made him wish he’d found one by now.

“Hey.”

Joel jumped enough that he was surprised he didn’t burn his hand from the coffee.

You were there, at the base of the stairs, looking up at him with eyes wide and bright. His heart skipped a beat.

“Hey,” he cleared his throat. You were wearing his shirt. You didn’t have on a coat.

“It OK if I come up?” You nodded to the porch.

“Course,” he said. “Always welcome.”

You jogged up the steps, the same one as always squeaking under your feet, and Joel smiled a bit at that. The little sound he’d come to love because it announced your arrival.

“Can I get you a cup of coffee?” He asked. “It’s not bad, all things considered.”

“No,” you said. “Not in the mood, it’d be wasted on me.”

“You go to the dance?” Joel asked after a moment, your body close to his as you leaned against the railing beside him.

You laughed once.

“No,” you said. “Didn’t see much point. Besides, Tommy asked me earlier if I could fill in on patrol because we were down a person so I thought I’d try to rest since that means it’s an early start.”

Joel nodded slowly.

“Didn’t go either,” he said after a moment of quiet. “Girls got back not long ago, though, gigglin’ up a storm. Think they had fun.”

“That’s good,” you said, nodding, too. “I wonder what Savvy thought of a dance… I hated them when I was her age but that’s because my mother made me go. She might love them. It’s hard to know.”

“They’re not for everyone,” Joel said. “But can be fun. I’m sure I’ll get all the details soon, I’ll pass ‘em on when I do.”

“Thanks,” you said, glancing at him for a moment before looking up at the stars again. You were quiet for a moment before you sighed. “Joel…”

He looked at you, your fingers gripping the railing so tight your knuckles were pale.

“Joel, did you kill Cody?” You asked, turning to look at him, still holding the railing tight.

“No,” he shook his head. “No, you asked me not to so I didn’t.”

“So, what, he just disappears two days after you go on patrol together?” You asked, brows raised. “Do you expect me to believe that?”

“No,” Joel shrugged. “But I didn’t kill him. Didn’t hurt him, either. Told him he had to get the fuck out, that he couldn’t come back and couldn’t tell anyone where you were or I would kill him. But he’s alive. Unless he got himself fuckin’ killed since he left but since he made it this far, seems doubtful.”

“Joel…”

“Couldn’t have him here,” Joel said, taking a sip of coffee. “Not with you. Not with our girls. He’s too dangerous. You wanted him to live so he’s alive but he couldn’t stay here, so I handled it.”

You straightened up, looking him in the eye before you stepped closer to him. He waited for you to say something. Say something. Blame him, rail against him, something. But you didn’t.

“What are you doin’ here, Bambi?” He asked softly.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you whispered, so close he could feel the heat of your breath on him.

“Why’s that?” He asked. You reached up slowly, cautiously, and put your arms around his neck. He set his mug on the post of the railing and his hands curled gently around your biceps. You stepped closer still, your body against his now.

“I was thinking about you.”

Your eyes drifted to his lips before going back up to his eyes.

“Can I…”

“You can do whatever you want with me,” he breathed and you nodded before you kissed him softly, slowly. Your lips were gentle and easy on his, so much like he remembered them being. Your whole body slotted perfectly against his, the curves and arches of you melding into him as he wrapped his arms around you to cradle you against him and you deepened the kiss, moaning into his mouth. He damn near whimpered when you pulled back from him, your body still pressed against him.

“Would it be alright if we went inside?” You asked.

“Whatever you want,” he said softly. “Give you whatever you want.”

You just nodded before kissing him lightly, pulling back much faster this time.

“Then let’s go inside.”

He just nodded, guiding you to the door before opening it and welcoming you into his home.

Next Chapter

A/N: EEEEEEEEE THEY'RE FINALLY BACK TOGETHER!

The Joel/Bambi relationship based angst is coming to a close and I think we're all pretty happy about that. Yeah? Yeah. Think we all know what the next chapter will be. Hope you're excited about it because I know I am!

Thanks for being patient while I write this insane chapter. I so appreciate you all for being here and sticking with this story! Love you!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel@jenispunk@panda-pascal@sarap-77@flugazi@your-slutty-gf@daniegraceg@partyofone3413@cumberpegg@noisynightmarepoetry.@fifia-writes@grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123@ashleyfilm

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #yearling #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc

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libraryofolive · 13 days ago

Text

sit still!

featuring: Choso Kamo x fem!reader

genre: fluff, drabble

word count: 1k

synopsis: it's Choso's first time celebrating Halloween, so of course you'll help him with the intricate make up his costume needs.

part four of spooky section, my 2024 Halloween event!

There had been an excitement for Halloween building in your boyfriend since the fist few leaves started turning orange. Between both yours and his little brother’s enthusiasm and expressed love for the holiday, Choso was buzzing by the time October 31st rolled around. Yuki was throwing an all-out Halloween bash, so you and Choso had naturally decided to go in matching costumes, settling on a classic little red riding hood and her big bad wolf.

You made you way to Choso’s house before the party, dressed in your costume, ready to go. You wanted to get some cute photos of the two of you before any alcohol got involved. But when he opened the door, to call him a mess would be putting it lightly.

He was dressed in the costume you had given him - some jeans and a flannel shirt lined with fake brown fur to give him that werewolf effect. The mess in question was the sloppy make-up all over his face, yeah, you couldn’t let anyone see him like that.

He was sheepish, scratching the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact, as he greeted you.

“Go on, what happened?” You asked as he let you into his apartment. You cradled his chin in one hand, taking a better look at the splotches of colour all over his face.

“Well, I tried to copy that photo you sent me, but then it started going wrong… and then Yuji tried to help, and don’t tell him I told you this, but I think he made it worse.”

“Yeah.. I don’t think I can fix this. If you go wash it off though, I can redo it?”

“Yes please!” He practically squeaked before running off to the bathroom to wash off the botched job. You made your way into your boyfriend’s bedroom, throwing on one of his t-shirts. There was no way you were going to ruin your immaculate (if you did say so yourself) costume with the make up you were about to apply to your boyfriend.

The two of you met once again in his kitchen, the make up brushes and sponges scattered all over the table. Your now bare-faced boyfriend sat down, man-spreading to allow you to stand between his legs and get closer to his face. You decided to ignore this, and instead straddled his lap.

“What, er, what are you doing?” He asked, face as red as his flannel shirt.

“Gotta get nice and close for the details, Cho.” You smirked, loving how flustered you were making the man.

“Oh, yeah, of course…” He trailed off as you dipped a sponge in brown paint, bringing it towards his face. He closed his eyes - if he made eye contact with you in this position, he knew you wouldn’t be making it to the party - and flinched as the cold paint made contact with the edges of his face.

“You okay?” You asked as you continued to colour the outside of his face. He hummed, not daring to speak or move his head. You chuckled at how still he was being.

“You are allowed to move, Cho. Just not too much.”

“Don’t want to ruin it again.” He mumbled.

“Are you doubting my skills?”

“What? No!” His eyes went wide, and you could tell he was holding himself back from shaking his head. You giggled at him.

“Kidding, Cho.” You swapped a sponge for a fine brush and a lighter brown, ready to add fur details to the brown frame on his face.

“Oh.” He sighed, a small smile making its way onto his face. He basked in the close proximity to you, feeling your breath on his cheeks as you worked. Choso loved being close to you. It didn’t matter if you were cuddling, or holding hands, or even just sitting next to each other. As long as Choso was close to you, he was happy.

At various points, Choso’s nose scrunched at the ticklish sensation of your brushes, and your heart just melted at the sight. He was so adorable, the way he sat there, back ram-rod straight as you painted his face.

Once you had added darker fur detailing, you coloured in the tip of Choso’s nose, giving the appearance of a snout. You leant back, admiring your work from a bit of a distance rather than up-close and personal.

“Finished?” Choso peeled one eye open, looking at you with an eyebrow lifted.

“Just one more finishing touch.” You set your brush down, and Choso closed his eyes again, sinking slightly in his chair. You grinned as you leant in to give him a peck on the lips - you could tell he was surprised a your action, but he was not complaining.

“What was that for?” He asked, cocking his head to one side.

“The finishing touch, obviously.” You said faux-condescendingly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the entire world.

“Oh, of course, my mistake.” You hopped off his lap, pulling him up out of his chair. He snaked his hand around your waist, pulling you against him. “What if I don’t want to go to the party anymore?” He mumbled into your hair.

“What? Why?” Your mouth pulled into a frown, brow furrowing in worry.

“Because now I just want to cuddle with you on my lap all night.”

“Absolutely not. I did not just spend the last twenty minutes doing your make-up for us to not go to this party to cuddle.”

“Well, I tried.” He shrugged, smiling at you.

“Come on. If I get drunk enough I might end up on your lap all night anyway.” You laughed, pulling him towards the door, ready for a night of partying with your love.

Like this? You can find my smaus here and my drabbles and other fiics here!

Do you have a request? You can find my rules for requesting here!

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separatist-apologist · 4 months ago

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Long Live

Summary: All archeologist Elain Archeron wants is answers about the past.

Fate is determined to give them to her

MASSIVE thank you @abbadinfluence for having the idea AND allowing me to write - I've had the time of my life, this has been so fun.

And @octobers-veryown for being my personal Rome/Italy consultant- thank you for your knowledge, your time, and most importantly, catching when I used a particularly offensive and/or wrong swear word

For @elucienweekofficial | Read on AO3

Italy in July was miserable. Rome itself was even worse with all the blacktops and the people crammed together. Tourists mingled with locals, moving in crowds so large Elain thought it was a wonder no one got lost inside. How many parents lost track of their children that way, she wondered?

Elain sidestepped a vendor thrusting flowers into her face, one hand up as she shook her head back and forth. She’d lived in Rome for the past five years and thought she knew it like the back of her hand. All its imperfections, the warts it hid, the secrets it tried to keep buried—Elain knew it all.

Or, she thought she did. But when she got a call from University higher-ups that a couple had accidentally uncovered a mosaic floor that, at least on first glance, looked as though it belonged to the Imperial period, which Elain found exciting. She’d been tapped to lead the excavation, her first ever.

She was prepared, ready to go…and wandering toward the Spanish steps for reasons that were still unclear to her. She ought to be in her office running through her plans one last time. Something called her the way it so often did, pulling like a thread tied to her ribs. Elain often found herself jerking awake at night covered in a thin sheen of sweat, trying to recall what, exactly, woke her.

It was driving her fiance crazy. Graysen was ready to leave Rome altogether and return to the United States where Elain would spend more time teaching than she would doing actual archeological work. It sounded miserable to her…and yet she’d promised when he’d slid that ring on her finger.

She didn’t want to go back. She was buying herself time with the mosaic floor but once that was done, she knew Graysen’s patience would reach its end. Maybe that was what drove Elain into the hot Italian sun with only a half-filled bottle of sunscreen taking up space at the bottom of her bag. At least she had her hat.

Battling tourists, Elain made her way up the steps, skin sweat soaked before she’d made it even a third of the way up. Why did she keep doing this to herself?

Because you’ll miss it.

Even the heat, miserable as it could be, was a welcome friend Elain didn’t want to lose. Gray was from the rainy northwest and spoke often about how he longed to return to cloud cover and days that rarely topped the mid-70s.

No more sunburns, he’d reminded her cheerfully just the night before. And sure, the bridge of Elain’s nose was sunburned so often she suspected she’d be in trouble when she was older, but it wasn’t from a lack of trying. And she tanned so nicely in the aftermath that she almost didn’t care.

As she reached the top of the steps, a new, yet persistent thought wormed its way through her mind. You don’t have to marry him.

Catching her breath, Elain banished it. She did have to marry him. They’d been together for years, he’d moved across the world to be with her, had stayed the last five years when it would have been easier to leave. He’d never acclimated to Italian culture, could barely speak the language despite being immersed in it, and he loathed the weather, the tourists, and the locals on scooters who did, on occasion, attempt to mow down a pedestrian in their way.

As if life in the US was so much better. It was merely familiar to him. Elain thought it would all feel foreign and strange, too bright and too loud for her eyes and ears. She didn’t want to return, didn’t want to find a new job or give up a career she was passionate about.

But she couldn’t tell him. Elain knew if she told him, Graysen would ask why they were even getting married, a question he’d broached the first time she’d dug in her heels and said she didn’t want to go. Maybe he’d known it would scare her—she’d certainly folded fairly quickly—or maybe it was how he felt.

All she knew was that if he left, no one would ever be able to love her again. Not like he did. No one would have done even half of what Gray had done for her and she knew she’d never find another man willing to tolerate her obsession, her long hours, and her unwillingness to leave Rome.

Her whole life was a love letter to the city. Elain still remembered how the love affair had begun. She’d heard a story about the goddess Diana turning the hunter Acteaon into a deer when he’d accidentally spied her bathing and Elain had been desperate to hear more. Learn more. It had started with mythology, which spawned an interest in the emperor's themselves. So much of their lives had been mythologized that it felt like listening to a particularly bloody story on par with the gods themselves.

That had spawned a love affair with Roman architecture and history that persisted even to that day. Elain had a doctorate in archeology, was tenured at [Roman University], and lived in the city. It all felt like a dream—one that was slowly becoming a nightmare.

Elain took a breath, intending to return to work if only to get her out of the sun and out of her head. She turned, delighted to see a familiar blonde grinning as she made her way toward her.

“You’re not working today?” Arina asked in her thick, Italian accent. She was the first friend Elain had made when she landed in Rome, bright eyed and so painfully American that people could clock her on the street.

“I should be,” Elain replied, falling into step with Arina. Arina wasn’t from Rome, but Florence, though Elain never would have been able to tell given the way Arina moved through the city. She wasn’t concerned with the men constantly trying to stop her to talk, nor did she care about the vehicles on the road not paying attention when she was in the street. Elain had once watched her scream at a man, hands in the air, curses flying as vicious as any knife.

Arina joked that Elain was the lover, she the fighter.

“What are you doing out here?” Arina demanded, eyeing a woman in khakis with that familiar, Roman judgment Elain hoped to never be on the opposite end of.

“Graysen got a job up in Oregon,” Elain told her, earning an eye roll from Arina.

“Let him go,” she said dismissively. “As if there aren’t men in Rome. They’re all awful, but they’re here. Maybe you could find the one good one, wherever he is.”

“I don’t want another man,” Elain said, a familiar refrain. Arina rolled her eyes again, mumbling something Elain didn’t quite catch under her breath.

“Explain it to me again. Like I’m stupid,” Arina ordered, weaving in and out of crowds without batting an eye. “What about him is so special?”

“You’ve never been in love?” Elain questioned, certain they’d had this conversation a million times before.

Arina shrugged. “Every time I see a beautiful face. So what? What does love have to do with anything?”

“Love is everything—”

“He’s holding you back. He’d see your career crumble to dust if it meant he could be comfortable. Let him go back if that’s what he wants, and let him realize the best thing that ever happened to him was this city.”

“You just don’t understand,” Elain said without anger. Arina didn’t—Elain knew her friend wasn’t lying about how often she fell in love. The problem was how easily Arina fell out of love, too.

The light would shift, dawn would break, and Arina was over it. A lifetime had passed in her mind and whoever she’d imagined herself to be while she’d been with that man was gone, too. Elain envied Arina’s ability to put herself above everything else, to walk away when things no longer suited her.

A greater woman wouldn’t let a man dictate her entire life. Was she pathetic? She’d wondered that many times throughout her relationship with Graysen. Elain simply did not know how to love herself more than she loved him. She wanted love, the kind that people wrote songs about. The kind that transcended time itself. Elain knew that Graysen wasn’t that kind of love, and yet she still couldn’t leave.

She simply wanted to be with him more than she wanted to start all over again. What if there was no one else? What if no one else could love her? She was scared and if she was honest with herself, she knew that was what would convince her to resign and return to the United States.

“I understand perfectly well,” Arina disagreed, pulling Elain from her thoughts. “We lose too many good women to these losers that have nothing going on for them. He’ll have you in his kitchen, pregnant while your research is dustier than Cicero’s writings and the world will be a worse place for it. You’re on the verge of something big, Elain. What if this is the missing estate of Emperor Lucius—”

“It’s not,” she said firmly, heart pounding in her throat. Arina had hurt her feelings just enough that Elain didn’t want to play the what-if game. Finding the missing home of the late Emperor would give Elain the one thing she’d always wanted—true insight into the missing Empress Helena . Every piece of research she’d done over the past five years had centered around the two of them.

In the later writings before Lucius died, he lamented the loss of Helena , though he never spoke of what happened to her. Only that she had gone on the eve of a great battle, leaving scholars to speculate she had returned to the fringes of the Empire, back to Britania where she had been born. There was no record of her departure, no writings that confirmed she’d ever arrived. Elain’s thesis had been that Elena had been slaughtered by Saxons before she made it home and could write to the Emperor, and Lucius had been so heartbroken, he’d never been able to write the whole story down.

Not everyone agreed, of course. A myriad of other scholars believed she’d died in childbirth or Lucius had divorced her, bending to public pressure around his foreign born wife. The one thing they all agreed on, however, was that he’d loved her. If Elain could find the home he’d had outside the city—the home it was rumored that she often stayed in during the final months of their marriage—Elain could piece together the final days of the Empress and validate her research.

Finding proof of the Empress right as Graysen wanted to leave would put Elain in a terrible position. Did she stay and end her relationship? Or did she pick Graysen and leave someone else to finish what she’d started, taking all the credit while she became exactly what Arina accused her of?

Elain could think of nothing else that night as she made her way back to the little apartment she shared with Graysen. He had the shutters closed tight like he always did because he hated the sounds of the city that Elain loved so much. While he stared down at his phone, she made her way methodically through the home and unlatched the windows, ignoring the heavy sigh he exhaled behind her.

“So,” she began, Arina’s words still ringing in her head, “tomorrow is the beginning of the excavation.”

Graysen seemed to perk up. “How long will it take?”

Months. Elain shrugged. “A month, maybe less.”

Better to lie and drag it out than tell him the truth and let him tell her no right away.

“I’m looking at houses,” Graysen told her as he rose from a black leather chair. “I want you to look at some of them, tell me what you think.”

Elain’s heart began to race all over again. “Houses?”

Graysen stepped around her, shoes still on, to make his way toward the kitchen. “Yes, Elain. Houses. Aren’t you tired of these tiny ass apartments in these dirty fucking cities?”

No. “Where are you looking?”

“Outside Portland. Close enough to commute but quiet. A place with a lawn, and neighbors for our kids to play with.”

Elain thought she might be sick. “Kids?”

Graysen whipped around so fast Elain stumbled back a step. “We’ve talked about this, Elain. Kids, a family, a life.”

“I know…I just thought…” She didn’t know what she thought, honestly. Biting her bottom lip, Elain said, “I’m not ready for kids, Gray.”

“Let’s just get out of here, first, and get married. This is just a plan, okay? Don’t freak out, baby.”

But she was freaking out. Even as Graysen pulled her into his chest, all she could think about was Arina’s accusation that Graysen wanted to turn her into his housewife. “In a year, who knows? Maybe you’ll be tired of all this, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she lied.

Elain knew she’d never be tired of it.

—

Lucien glanced over at his brother, lounging casually against a pillar. They weren’t alone. As they waited just outside the Curia. Voices echoed off the high ceiling, slipping into the ether before any one could be untangled for a curious eavesdropper. Normally, Lucien would try and pick out the philosophers from the politicians but today he was focused.

If they succeeded—and it was a big if—he needed to be entirely focused. The same was true if they failed, honestly. If their plot was revealed before they could carry it out, Lucien would be jailed for treason before being made into a public spectacle.

Beron would see the Empire laid to ruin under his madness. The people starved, their coffers were dwindling by the day, and the city was still reeling from a recent fire. They needed stability. They’d tried other means first. Eris had poisoned multiple goblets of wine, they’d sent snakes, assassins—everyone failed.

It was time to get their own hands bloody.

For the sixth time that day, Lucien adjusted the fabric of his toga draped over an arm, careful to ensure the purple stripe was visible. Across the room, Jurian glanced out the open bronze doors, cheeks flushed from the heat. It was a miserable day already, the sun bearing down on them unbearably. Lucien wanted to retreat to the countryside where he swore to the gods it was never this hot.

The entry went silent as Beron swept in, devoid of the guards Octavian had once commanded. Beron believed himself to be divine, more god than man. Lucien intended to show him otherwise.

Eris stepped forward, immaculate despite the heat, and bowed his head in a show of deference. “Are we ready?”

Beron’s brown eyes swept the room. “Is this everyone today?”

“There’s a war, if you recall,” Lucien reminded the Emperor, trying not to grind his teeth. Another costly war with the gauls that was unlikely to yield anything but more widows and wasted money. Beron was going to cost them Britania if he wasn’t careful—Lucien knew the Saxons were watching, waiting to see how things shook out on the Germanic border. How long before Beron was sending Lucien out to war, too?

And Eris?

Before every enemy he had in Rome was marching on a battlefield where a knife to the back was much easier to orchestrate? Lucien didn’t intend on dying that way. No, if he died it was going to be in his bed because old age had finally come for him. If he was lucky, he’d be surrounded by children and grandchildren, though that assumed he had a wife and Lucien had not been lucky on that front.

If he let himself think about Jesminda, Lucien would utterly fail in his part in their plot. He couldn’t help himself, ruminating on his failures that had led to her death. It had been no one's fault…and yet he blamed himself anyway. Married for just a year—the best year of Lucien’s life, if he was honest with himself. He’d been just a junior Senator then, a nobles son from the Galatia province desperate to cut his teeth on Roman politics.

And Jesminda had been…well. She’d been wild. Too wild for patrician life and yet she’d tried anyway. If Lucien had been smart, he would have given it all up and taken her far, far away from the city. He’d merely loved it too much and assured himself she would learn to love it, too. Everything had been for her. The money, the social climbing—everything.

She should have been with him, listening to him plotting from beside him in their shared bed. And their child…he should have been there, too. He’d have been toddling around by then, speaking his first words with a mop of Jesminda’s dark curls. Lucien thought of them often, wishing Jesminda hadn’t lost her life trying to bring his son into the world.

By the time Lucien realized what was happening, it was all too late. Jesminda was gone, hair stained red from all the blood she’d lost. He hadn’t even been able to tell her goodbye. And the babe…the baby hadn’t lasted the night, taking his last, frail breaths from Lucien’s trembling arms. He’d prayed on his knees to the gods, begging them to let the baby to live.

And then he’d prayed to bring her back. He’d offered a trade—his life for hers. He’d go into the underworld himself if he could only just find it. The gods were silent, their decision final. So he raged, instead, and then he fell silent when it was clear there was no undoing what was done. No bringing either of them back, no happiness the way he’d envisioned it.

And he knew eventually he’d marry another Senator's daughter, likely to cement some powerful alliance between them. Lucien dreaded it all the same.

Lost in thought, he’d forgotten where he was or what he was doing until Jurian’s elbow connected with his rib. No words were exchanged between them, but Lucien knew what Jurian was asking.

Are you still coming?

There was time to back out if he wanted. Lucien might have if he’d been a coward, but he wasn’t. He was going to see Eris crowned Emperor if it was the last thing he did and it might be. Beron wasn’t known for being merciful. In one particular instance of lunacy, Beron had decided to wage war with Neptune himself, marching an army all the way to the shores of Britannia only to slash at the sea with his sword.

That had been Lucien’s final breaking point. He’d read the report through clenched teeth and decided right then and there that he’d had enough. Beron made a mockery of Rome’s greatness and threatened to undo everything their predecessors had worked for. Lucien would be damned if he let the Empire fall to ruin when there was a simple fix.

He followed Jurian into the Curia, closing the bronze doors behind him with a heavy click. Dragging his eyes around the room, Lucien focused on the bright green and red tiles adorning the floors rather than look behind Beron at the fountain of Saturn bubbling cheerfully in a stream of bright, golden light. In a few moments—just as soon as Eris gave the signal—those same tiles would be soaked with blood.

“Is this everyone who means to attend today?” Beron demanded, unaware this session had been called in secret. Of the six hundred Senators, only fifty were in attendance and that was by design. By the time the rest learned of what happened, Eris’s guards would have taken the city and he’d be crowned Emperor.

Eris only shrugged, fingers flexing over his chest. That was the signal. The rest of them made their way toward Beron, still unaware, while Jurian stood against the door to keep Beron from getting out or his guards, were they to show up, from getting in.

Eris’s blade connected with Beron’s stomach first—he’d wanted the first cut given Beron had raised him. He’d been a cruel father before he’d been a crueler Emperor. It was only right that Eris got the satisfaction of looking Beron in the eye and Beron knowing the plot had been orchestrated by Eris.

Beron’s knees buckled, eyes wide not with fear but blazing, burning hatred. “Omnis homo mendax,” he spat, clearly caught off guard. Lucien joined the fray, his blade bloodied by the time Beron gasped out his last.

It wasn’t the first death he’d ever seen—but it was one of the more satisfying ones. Panting, arm aching from the effort it took to pierce flesh and bone, Lucien looked up at Eris.

“We must go, brother,” he warned as Jurian pushed off the door. “Quickly, before this was all for nothing.” They’d made it five steps across the room, Senators trailing behind Eris, when the doors shoved open. Armed guards with familiar faces made their way into the room. They weren’t Eris’s men, but Lucien’s and when they saw him, they immediately took a knee.

“What are you doing?” Lucien demanded. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

“Beron’s men swept the city,” Antonius began apprehensive, looking from the pooling blood to Lucien. “Say the word and we’ll secure the city in your name.”

“Where are my—”

“Dead, Senator,” Antonius told him, jaw set with determination. They had seconds to act before word spread—before one of the Senators standing behind them had a change of heart and declared himself Dictator. “Say the word.”

Lucien turned to Eris, thinking of Beron’s last words. Omnis homo mendax. Every man is a liar. Eris must have been thinking it, too. Would they become enemies? Lucien needed Eris’s support, not just politically, but generally. They were brothers in every way that mattered, though also technically as Lucien’s mother was Eris’s mother. He’d been sent away when he’d been born rather than shame Beron’s good name and Lucien imagined it must have rankled Beron to see the product of his wife’s infidelity turn up in Rome as a man.

Lucien wouldn’t give the word until Eris did.

“Better you than anyone else,” Eris finally said, sweeping aside the fabric of his toga to kneel before Lucien. “Take the city.”

“Go,” Lucien ordered, heart racing. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. It should have been him on his knees while Eris was crowned, not the other way around. Lucien had never been so ambitious, hadn’t spent the years cultivating allies and purging his enemies. Right then, Lucien wasn’t sure if he could trust anyone in that room. Even as Antonius stood, barking orders to lock the city down until everyone loyal to Beron was removed, Lucien wondered if there wouldn’t be a dagger in his back by the end of the day.

There was no taking it back. Only Jurian had a sense of humor about the whole thing, laughing loudly as Lucien approached.

“Well,” he said with a broad, unrestrained grin, “long live the Emperor.”

Lucien very much doubted he’d live long at all.

And still.

Long live the Emperor.

ELAIN:

The whole drive out into the countryside, all Elain could think about was Graysen and the plans he’d made. She felt like a doll in a toy box, one that could be moved around at will but had no say in where she went or what she did. He’d sent her the houses he was looking into, aided by his parents who were already touring them back in the states and sending pictures of each room.

This would be perfect for a nursery. That had been the message his mother had sent over, showing off a large room with bay windows overlooking a spacious, lush backyard. Elain’s stomach was still churning as she thought about it. Her future was decided—all she had to do was smile and nod her head.

Truthfully, she probably didn’t need to even do that much. Just stay with him and Graysen would decide it all for her. She could be passive, even in her own life. A leaf blown along stronger winds until she was a stranger even to herself. If she thought about it too hard, Elain started to cry though she didn’t understand why.

This was what she wanted. She’d told Graysen so for years—she wanted kids, wanted marriage, wanted the white picket fence and the house in the suburbs. So why did it fill her with panic now that she was so close to getting everything she’d ever wanted?

The bus jostled, tire slamming into a pothole. Arina slammed against Elain from the seat beside her, elbow hitting her rib as Elain’s temple collided with the glass. Arina mumbled out a quick apology, her own expression as moody as the sky overhead. Elain didn’t think it was going to rain, though the cloud cover was a welcome relief after the week they’d had. She didn’t think she could withstand a straight month of nothing but sun.

Though, she would. Elain needed good news. She wanted to excavate a whole estate, with statues and a fountain—and if she was lucky, and the current homeowners unlucky, a bath house too.

For now, though, she had a mosaic floor and that was enough to keep her busy and away from home. She and Arina had booked a room in the village and would stay for the next week before returning to Rome for the weekend. Elain considered, briefly, telling Graysen her cell reception was bad.

And yet there she was, right then, texting him.

Miss you already.

What was wrong with her, she wondered? She ought to be studied. Crack open her skull and see where the disconnect between her heart and mind was because rationally Elain knew what she needed to do. It was emotionally that tangled her all up. She still loved him, still wanted everything they’d talked about. And part of her hoped, foolishly, that she could have everything if she simply refused to make a choice.

“I can hear your thoughts,” Arina complained when Elain remained uncharacteristically quiet. “You might as well scream them at me.”

“Shut up.”

“No, I won’t shut up,” Arina replied without malice. “What did he do now?”

“Nothing,” Elain said, resting her head on the window of the bus. “He’s looking at houses in Portland.”

Arina wrinkled her nose with distaste, though Elain was willing to bet if she laid out a map of the United States, Arina couldn’t tell her where Portland even was. It didn’t matter when Elain also knew that Arina simply thought there was nowhere better to live but Italy. Elain agreed, though she had no intention of admitting that to Arina just then. Her smugness would be unbearable.

“Did you tell him you don’t want to go?”

Elain sighed, earning an even heavier sigh from Arina.

“Why not? What are you waiting for?”

“I don’t know? A sign from Jupiter?” she joked weakly. “If he could just…tell me what I should do—”

“That’s what your gut is for but you’re not listening,” Arina replied, poking Elain in the ribs. “He’s already there telling you to dump Gray and step into your destiny.”

“What a cliche,” Elain lamented, turning her eyes back toward the green Italian landscape. “She’s married to her work.”

“Better than being some man’s slave,” Arina muttered darkly.

“How do you do that? Turn it all off, I mean?” Elain asked curiously. “My parents were so in love and I just want a sliver of what they had.”

“Well, my parents were not in love—not like that, anyway. My father was loud and mean and my mother tolerated it. Abuse wasn’t in her vocabulary, and she’d been taught that was just how men were. And I told myself I would never let a man steal my life from me. You’re going to die one day, Elain. Is this how you want to spend it?”

“If I could make myself love him less, I would.”

“You don’t have to love him less, just love yourself more,” Arina told her softly. Her words struck Elain harder than any physical blow, robbing her of breath. Love yourself more. Elain didn’t know how. Her whole life had been in service of others—keeping the peace between her two sisters and their loud personalities, taking care of her father when her mother died, making sure everyone was happy no matter what. When Graysen came along, Elain was working toward something that made her happy at the expense of what everyone else wanted for her and he’d seemed supportive. How many times had Gray said he wanted to take care of her, for once?

He’d encouraged her to apply for the professorship in Italy, had been so willing to pack up his life and move that she felt selfish, suddenly, for denying him something he clearly wanted.

Relationships were give and take, right?

Arina shook her head, reading Elain’s mind like she always did. Elain wore her every thought against her expression, making it easy for the rest of the world to know what she was thinking. Or maybe Arina just understood Elain better than anyone else—she couldn’t be sure.

They arrived not much later, arriving in idyllic Caprarola. From there it was a decent walk hauling all their supplies toward the home nestled among rolling hills and the remnants of the Italian Renaissance. Arina was in heaven, pointing out this architectural style and that type of stone while Elain tried to stay present in the moment.

Her thoughts kept shifting back to Gray. Glancing upward at the cloud-filled sky, she wondered if it was foolish to send a prayer to a god she didn’t believe in. Still, as Elain climbed out after Arina, she decided to try.

Saturn, if you can hear me- give me a sign. Anything. I’ll take any sign at all.

Elain didn’t know why she settled on Saturn other than she was thinking about Rome, still, and the old temple of Saturn that had once stood in the forum. It didn’t matter. Saturn didn’t exist and there would be no divine intervention. No signs, no watchful gods trying to steer her on the right path.

“Are you ready?” Arina whispered, lacing her fingers through Elain’s for a moment to offer an excited squeeze. Elain was desperate, her plans tucked up under her arms. The first few days would be carefully excavating the existing floor and looking for anything else that may be nearby. Elain felt a little bad for the homeowners—if their home was on top of Roman ruins, it belonged to the Italian government.

Arina had no business being there other than Elain had invited her. They didn’t need an art historian this early in the process and yet as they all descended on the backyard, Elain was glad she’d brought Arina.

“Wow,” Arina murmured, eyes as bright as the midday Italian sun. Time had faded the once vibrant blue and red tiles and still they were visible beneath the scattered layer of dirt. There, a good six feet or more underground, lay the one glorious floor of a Roman. If she was lucky, the rumors would be true and she'd uncover it belonged to Emperor Lucien.

And if she was less lucky, she’d still get to excavate a piece of Roman history.

“Let’s get started.”

So much of the day was inching along carefully—Elain spent the vast majority of the day creating a grid of the site and assigning her grad students to each square. From there they took pictures in an attempt to see what lay beneath the soil, all of which was noted very carefully in logs. Though she was desperate to start digging, it was important to ensure nothing was damaged.

There was more than just a floor there—Elain was certain that it had a whole bath house within that yard and the one connected to the neighbors. No matter what happened next, Elain knew she had a patrician’s home under her feet.

She didn’t sleep well. Her dreams were drenched in color so bright she woke with a pounding headache and aching eyes, her skin so sweaty the sheets stuck to her body. Elain had fallen asleep texting Graysen, frustrated he wasn’t more excited about her potential discovery. He’d mustered a, that’s great, babe! before going right back to sending her house listings and pictures from his mom.

Make a choice.

Elain wanted to throw her life to the wolves and see what happened. She was frustrated and tired and if she was honest with herself, bored to death. The idea that this was the future waiting for her made her stomach tumble viciously, not with excitement but dread.

Wasn’t that enough of a sign?

She still loved him. Loved him enough to want to want the life he was offering her. What was so bad about it? Other than the dreary monotony and the fact that it was only her sacrificing her dreams? People went their whole lives without the kind of security Graysen was promising. Why couldn’t she just decide? Why couldn’t she get over herself and be the right woman for him? Elain vowed that night she’d show more enthusiasm, pick a house, and get on board. It wasn’t fair to punish him for her indecision and she couldn’t stay with him if it made her unhappy. If they were going to be together then they needed to be together.

Elain shook the thought from her head and laced up her boots. Today she was getting dirty, which meant utility pants and a white shirt tucked neatly into the waistband. She’d pulled her thick curls into a messy french braid and slathered sunscreen over her face before jamming her wide brim sun hat against her head.

Arina was waiting in a soft, blue cotton dress that looked beautiful against the golden brown of her skin. She’s left her hair down, her face uncovered and a little mascara slicked over her eyelashes. Elain envied Arina’s ability to seem effortlessly put together regardless of the circumstances, though she was absurdly overdressed for excavating.

“I’ll leave the dirt to you,” Arina said with a grin, reading Elain’s thoughts as she so often did. “I want to see that Roman bath.”

“I think we’ve got a genuine hot tub,” Elain said, pulling out some of the pictures taken the day before. “Intact and well preserved, though we won’t know until we’re looking at it.”

“Let’s get to it, then,” Arina replied.

And so they did. The morning was spent carefully digging. Her grad students were obviously frustrated by the afternoon, having grown up on a steady diet of The Mummy and Indiana Jones. Real life archeology was slower, careful and precise. After all, no one wanted to be the person who destroyed a priceless piece of history because they’d been too eager and careless.

And Elain was desperate at that point—she’d been right. A whole bath house was emerging, pieces crumbling from centuries of disuse, its lead pipes cracked, the tiles chipped. She’d resketched their area to include the new discovery, demolishing nearly the entire back garden. The owners of the home watched from the window, scowls on their faces. Maybe it had been unkind of Elain to send the grad student she liked the least to let them know what had been found. She’d been in that position, once, though not to this degree, and decided it was a character defining moment.

The afternoon was spent going layer by layer in the soil, careful not to accidentally miss anything that may have shifted over the centuries. They dug up a couple necklaces and the broken pieces of an amphora that once had held water or wine—or maybe oil. It was hard to tell given the few shards they had.

Elain worked well into the night, turning overhead lights on as she crept closer and closer to a true, Roman bath. Arina stayed with her, even after they cut their grad students loose.

“Should we be here this late?” Arina asked, climbing gingerly down into the trench Elain had dug.

“No…but I want to see it before anyone else.”

Elain swore the world felt different down in that hole. Surrounded by the white and red mosaic, cracked and in some places completely gone, Elain could almost imagine what it would have been like.

“Look at this,” Arina breathed, running her fingers over a half ruined fresco on what was left of an archway.

“What’s the time period?”

“Imperial for sure,” Arina told her, echoing what Elain already knew. Still, the confirmation was nice. There would be no narrowing it down tonight, though they both were thinking the same thing—this could belong to the period Lucius had ruled. This could be the home he’d died in, where he’d penned those journals lamenting the loss of his late wife Elena.

“Look at this,” Arina said, beckoning for Elain to follow after her. Careful of where they stepped, the pair made their way to the furthest wall to look at what once would have been a vibrant fresco. The reds had faded to a rusty colored orange, the faces worn away by time.

“It’s Chronos,” Arina breathed, fingers hovering without quite touching. “See how he hunches over? His beard is still there…just barely. And here, it’s Kairos I think. Usually a younger, handsome man beside Chronos would be Kairos—”

“Greek?”

She shrugged. “The Romans borrowed a lot from the Greeks. Perfected it, I’m sure they’d say. The wealthy would have known all the Greek philosophers and they would have been familiar with Greek mythology. I suppose our Emperor was a fan.”

“Why have the Greek god of time on the wall?” Arina looked around in the dark, trying to make out the rest of the wall. “It’s probably some larger theme. Maybe he was worried about the years passing? Or not seizing an opportunity?”

Static had caused pieces of Arina’s blonde hair to stand on end and the smell of something sulfuric had begun to fill the air. Elain, like Arina, was transfixed by the image and the space they currently stood in.

Arina glanced at Elain. “No one would know if we just—”

“Carefully,” she said, heart thudding with excitement. “If the oil from our fingers—”

“Think about how they used to excavate things. No gloves, just dirty hands,” Arina said as she pulled a thing of vanilla scented hand sanitizer from the bag wrapped around her waist. “We can’t be any worse than them.”

Elain didn’t know about that, though she didn’t argue. With one hand, she clasped Arina’s, linking them inextricably and with the other she reached for the wall at the same moment Arina did.

A hook jerked just behind her navel, ripping her forward so quickly Elain’s eyes slammed shut to avoid the inevitable crash against solid, Roman concrete. She was going to be in so much trouble—the university would be irate when they realized she and Arina had destroyed a priceless piece of Roman architecture.

Elain and Arina tumbled to the ground, elbow connecting with the solid floor. The smell of sulfur was more present as heat danced along her skin. Elain felt condensation on her cheek, mopped up from the floor she was sprawled against.

Arina groaned, dragging her lower body off of Elain. “I’m sorry…” she began, voice trailing off. Opening her eyes, Elain expected to be engulfed by darkness. Instead, she found bronze lamps hanging from the ceiling blazing, illuminating a truly magnificent room. A bath room, complete with a massive pool with glittering blue water that wafted steam up toward the vaulted ceiling. Empty chaises with plush, red fabric were set along the wall painted in colors so vivid Elain was certain she must be hallucinating.

Arina stood, her white dress ripped just above the knee from where they’d fallen. While Elain remained on the ground, desperately trying to catch her breath, Arina went to look at the painting.

“Look,” she said, her voice too breathless for Elain’s liking. “It’s the same fresco. There he is…Chronos—”

“Qu quidnam facis?”

Elain and Arina turned, Elain clambering to her feet as the latin words slithered through the warm air. There, just outside an open bronzed door, stood two men in belted brown tunics and worn, leather sandals. Dark curls spilled over olive skin, while two sets of brown eyes stared at them accusingly.

“We…” Elain trailed off, unsure what to make about any of this.

“Chi sei esattamente?!” Arina snapped back in sharp Italian. It was the wrong thing to say in perhaps the wrong language, because the two men began calling for guards in Latin. In Latin. Elain couldn’t get her mind to keep up with what was happening because Latin was a dead language and no one spoke it outside of academia. She was dreaming, she decided, and not even having iron cuffs clamped around her wrist could convince her otherwise.

“Elain,” Arina whispered when the doors to the room they were being held in were locked, “I think we’re in trouble.”

“Wake up,” Elain whispered to herself.

But she never did.

—

Lucien was in hell. Declared Emperor by the cohortes praetoriae, Lucien found himself standing before a packed Senate, about to be crowned. Among the gathered crowd of patricians, Lucien found his older brother looking back at him, cheeks reddened from the heat. There was no taking it back, not without making his whole line look weak and painting a target on their backs.

He didn’t understand how it had happened. Somewhere in the very back, Lucien saw his father talking with another Senator, deliberately not looking at his son.

This kind of maneuver had his father written all over it.

It was tempting to touch the golden fibula on his shoulder, each bearing the symbols of Rome. Lucien still felt like he was dreaming and had ever since the purple paludamentum had been brought to him, now fluttering behind his armor. He was the picture of Roman strength, the promise of the Roman future. And as he stood before his peers, Lucien felt like a fraud.

He hadn’t been born to rule. And still, he had the recognition and support of the Roman Army—all he needed was the Senate to declare him Imperator Caesar and Lucien as he’d once been would be no more.

The room went silent as Eris stood, the only living consul available to Lucien at the moment—they’d executed the other just the morning before. Lucien could still hear the wails of the man’s widow as Jurian had dragged him cowering from his home where Lucien had been waiting, sword in hand. He may not have considered himself worthy of the title, but he’d be damned if some sniveling coward put a knife in his back.

Eris could refuse. Could spit at Lucien’s feet if he’d wanted. Lucien knew he wouldn’t, though he could see the furious resentment burning in Eris’ gaze. The only thing that would spare Lucien was the knowledge that Lucien had not been the one to betray Eris. He doubted it would save his father from Eris’ wrath, and it had occurred to Lucien that he might be better off sending Eris to a far-flung province and forgetting him entirely.

He needed his brother. Eris was just as cunning, just as conniving, but with a talent for surviving. Lucien wanted Eris at his right hand until the day he died, and so when his brother who should have been Emperor approached, Lucien let him. He knew the vipers surrounding them were half hoping for a spectacle—a little more blood spilled on the floor, a little more violence to satisfy their hunger.

Eris held a golden crown made to look like laurel leaves. “Behold,” Eris said, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings overhead, “Imperator Caesar Augustus Lucius. Long may He serve Rome.” Lucien inclined his head just enough for Eris to set that crown atop his head before his eyes swept over the room, trying to meet the eyes of everyone who was still living. I let you live, he hoped his expression said, I will not be so generous if you betray me.

And then he launched into the speech he’d spent the night working on. Lucien had read from predecessors long past, looking at those who had done the job well and the words they’d spoken. He wanted to evoke a sense of safety and trust—he was here to take care of the Roman people, not enrich himself at their expense. And to that end, Lucien had ordered a month of games starting on the next kalendes to give him time to prepare a true spectacle and get himself mostly settled into his new position.

His proclamation was received with thunderous applause—everyone loved an excuse to celebrate and it had been a long time since they’d had cause for it. Beron had all but banned the games, calling them too expensive and too distracting to a populace better suited for work than pleasure.

It wasn’t the Roman way. Had Eris not orchestrated his death, Beron was well on his way to being declared enemy of the people much like Nero before him. Lucien had been content to wait and watch before Eris put his foot down. Did his brother regret it, he wondered?

With the Senate convened, Lucien was free to accept congratulations from his fellow patricians. Jurian and Eris hung back by the door, waiting for the rest to file out so they could descend on Lucien like wolves.

He needed to speak with his father. Catching the older man by the wrist, Lucien muttered, “Was this your doing?” Helion was unrepentant. “Blasphemy, son.”

“You—”

“Not here. Dinner with your mother and I? I assume our new Imperator isn’t so busy he can’t spare a little time for his mother?”

Lucien ground his teeth together before nodding. “Fine. Send word when you’d like me.”

“You have a standing invitation,” Helion reminded him before sauntering out, the last of the stragglers.

“How does it feel?” Jurian asked once Helion was gone. Lucien glanced toward Eris.

“I didn’t—”

“I know,” Eris said, jaw set all the same. “That dead bastard guessing my plan is my fault—I should have planned for that inevitably.”

Lucien opened his mouth to offer to step down but the scathing look Eris shot him silenced him. Eris had always been good at reading his mind.

“What’s done is done,” Eris said, his disappointment clear. “I won’t be wasting any more time on what might have been. The gods have spoken.”

“Well I—”

“Princeps,” a servant bowed low, stopping Lucien in the hall leading out of the Curia, eyes on the marble below them.

“Speak.”

“Word has come from your estate in Eturia. Two spies have infiltrated and are being held while we await your instruction.”

Already? “Spies? From where?”

The slave winced, olive skin already burned in the sun. They spoke like a Roman, though their accent betrayed them. They sounded suspiciously Dacian, though he couldn’t be sure and truthfully, he cared very little.

The servant shrugged beneath their brown tunic. “They are difficult to understand.”

Eris and Jurian cut a glance to Lucien. “Germanic?”

“Possibly.”

“Bring them to Rome,” Lucien ordered. “I’ll question them myself.”

They waited for the servant to depart before they began speaking among themselves. “A barbarian this close to the city?” Jurian asked with amusement as they stepped out into the bright sunlight of the late morning. Light reflected from the marble, blinding Lucien temporarily before his eyes adjusted. Bustling crowds jostled for space, their conversations blurring into a murmuring jumble of words.

Slipping past a group arguing passionately about rising olive prices, Lucien continued his conversation with Eris and Jurian.

“Do you really think two germanic barbarians came all this way to rob you?” Jurian questioned, eyes sliding upward toward the markets, built not with marble like the rest of the forum, but with brick directly against the hillside. Lucien could smell cooking meat, mingled alongside sweat, leather, and citrus.

“No,” Lucien replied. “Scouts would have been swept up in Gaul before they ever made it this far.” If he hadn’t just been made Emperor, Lucien would have gone himself just to keep things quiet. He didn’t need word spreading and causing a panic–though, if he was clever, Lucien saw a future in which he could deploy troops back to the Rhine and take more territory.

“Assassins, then,” Eris said with a little too much amusement. “You’re better off cutting their throats before they ever reach Rome.”

“I’ll make them part of the games,” Lucien declared, running his fingers over a large pillar depicting the accomplishments of an emperor long before him. He needed one of his own—a project for later, he decided privately. “If they’re assassins, the lions can have them, and if they’re barbarians, the gladiators can show them what happens when one attempts to challenge Rome.”

It was settled, leaving Lucien to make the rounds. His praetorian guards trailed just behind, their mere presence a warning to anyone who thought to get too close. Those, Lucien kept a weapon on his person as well, paranoid of every face he didn’t recognize—and many he did.

He didn’t sleep well that night—nor the next one. Everything was happening quickly. Decisions needed to be made and a legacy built. Lucien, like so many before him, was interested in expansion to add to the glory of Rome and prove to the Romans he was worthy of his title and position.

Lucien commissioned works of art—and not just of himself—and began his preparations for the games. Animals needed to be brought in which took time—of which he had very little. Lucien had nearly forgotten about the intruders until Eris came around Palatine Hill, strolling into the palace that had once belonged to Beron—and every emperor that had come before him—as though it belonged to him.

“Your captives have arrived,” Eris said, a grin on his face.

“What’s so funny?”

“Apparently your captives have been giving your soldiers a difficult time.”

“And that amuses you?”

“Come with me,” Eris said, beckoning Lucien to leave his place at his desk. “You’ll see why.”

And indeed, Lucien did find the source of Eris’s amusement when they descended into the bowels of Mamertine. It reeked of human suffering and filth and was so dark and damp that despite the heat of the day, Lucien felt cold.

Eris ordered for the door of the cell to be opened, revealing not two barbaric soldiers itching for blood…but two slim, dirty women peering back at him from the gloom. Lucien turned to look at Eris, exasperated.

“Is this supposed to be funny? You wrangled two prostitutes—”

The blonde woman began snarling words in a language he didn’t recognize, though the tone conveyed just what she thought about what he’d said.

The brunette, however, spoke Latin. “We’re not prostitutes,” she said earnestly, leaning forward in an attempt to really look at him. “This is a misunderstanding.”

Eris held his hands up, iron ring glinting in the firelight. “I had no part in this.”

“You were caught trespassing,” Lucien informed them, stepping a few feet into the tiny cell. “How do you account for that?”

The women exchanged a glance and Lucien knew, without needing to read their thoughts, that they were about to tell him a lie. What would they invent, he wondered?

“We’re from Britannia,” she said—and Lucien believed that, given the fairness of her skin and the blonde hair of the woman beside her. “We were overtaken on the road and forced to continue alone on foot. When we saw your estate, we hoped someone might welcome us inside—”

“And instead we’ve been imprisoned, assaulted, and accused of prostitution!” the blonde beside her bit out. Their accents were unusual, tinged with an inflection he didn’t recognize. They weren’t even the same accent—the blonde’s words were sharper while the brunette spoke with a rolling drawl he found oddly charming.

“Prove you’re not a prostitute,” Eris said, clearly willing to provoke an angry woman. Lucien didn’t move, still curious as the blonde offered him a deceptively sweet smile.

“Come and see for yourself,” she offered. Lucien wouldn’t have dared—he knew an armed opponent when he saw one. Eris should have known better and yet he crossed the stone floor and reached out a hand, perhaps curious about the mass of blonde hair tangled around her face.

“Arina—” the brunette tried to stop her friend, but the woman bit Eris hard enough that Lucien saw the blood before he heard Eris’s furious curse.

With bloody lips, the blonde looked up at him and said, “Biting is bad for business.”

Eris turned to look at Lucien, mouth agape.

“This whole thing is merely a misunderstanding,” the brunette told him. “If you let us go—”

“Where would I release you to? A husband? Father?” Lucien questioned.

Both women exchanged a glance. “I…”

Liars, the pair of them. He could leave them, of course—it was tempting to wash his hands of the entire thing and return back to a world filled with daylight. The light from the hall shifted, through firelight onto the brunettes features and Lucien found himself unable to do so. She was…well.

She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, even with dirt staining her features. And she was looking at him with soft pleading, brown eyes and Lucien simply could not bring himself to treat her cruelly.

“You’ll stay in my household as guests,” he declared as Eris swore softly beside him, shaking out his injured hand. “Just until we can find a relative to place you with.”

The blonde muttered something to the brunette in a third language—not the sharp constants from before, but something harsher and angrier sounding.

“Um,” the brunette began, gaze darting between the three of them. “Will we stay here in Rome, or can we—”

“In Rome,” Lucien said, nose burning from the stench of suffering. “That is where you were headed, is it not?”

The brunette didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Then there should be no problems.”

Whatever these women had been doing would reveal itself in time, and until then, keeping them in his household allowed Lucien to keep watch on them. He swore that was all he cared about—the safety of his city and the security of his position. But as the brunette stood, in clothes so strange he couldn’t figure them out at all, he knew this was more than pragmatism. She was beautiful and Lucien was still a man.

Eris, too, was taking in their clothing, his nose wrinkled with distaste.

“Be careful of your next words,” the blonde warned, eyes wide.

Eris scowled. “Be careful of yours. Is this how men are treated in your home?”

“Worse,” she replied with a savage, bloodstained smile.

“You look like a whore,” Eris snapped, clearly still pissed. Lucien’s head whipped around, a warning to silence himself on his tongue. The brunette clearly had the same thought because she gripped her friend’s wrist and whispered a clear, harsh warning in the ugly native tongue of hers. She was too beautiful to speak such a barbaric language, and more beautiful still when she turned to him and said, in Latin, “We’re so grateful for your hospitality.”

“Your name?” Lucien heard himself asking. Tell me the truth.

“Elain,” she said, the word easily the most beautiful thing that had come from her lips since they’d met. “And this is Arina.”

Eris’ scowl deepened. “The soldiers. Did they touch you?”

Elain and Arina exchanged another glance, a yes if Lucien had ever seen it. It was unlike his brother to care and yet it was clear Eris wanted an answer, and intended to exact punishment on those who he felt had done wrong.

“And if they did?” Arina demanded, crossing her arms over a ripped, white shift that made Lucien uncomfortable to look at.

Eris nodded, pointing a finger in her face. “You will point them out to me—”

“That’s not…we’re unharmed,” Elain hastened to assure him, but Lucien found himself agreeing with Eris. If they’d been touched unwillingly, maybe he might like to see some justice done, too.

“You will tell him which of my soldiers harmed you,” Lucien said, his word law. Did they know? Or had they departed believing Beron was Emperor. He gestured toward his brother and added,

“This is Consul Eris,” Lucien began, strangely pleased to tell Elain who he was, “and I am Lucien, Caesar Imperator Augustus.”

Elain and Arina both inclined their heads, knees bending strangely. Were they bowing? That was wholly unnecessary though…Lucien allowed it. He couldn’t explain himself, certainly not to his brother who was watching…but he liked the sight of Elain sinking to her knees before him. He beckoned for them to follow him out, gulping down fresh air the moment they were back outside.

“See them to my home,” he told his brother, wanting a minute to himself. “Ensure they’re made comfortable.”

Eris nodded. “You’ll regret this.”

Lucien smiled.

He had no doubts about that.

#elucien #pro elucien #REMEMBER THIS IS LIKE THE REIGN OF FICS OK???

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wilbursprincess · 1 month ago

Text

October 1- Leash Play with Simpbur

Simpbur x Female Reader

Warnings: Leash play (no shit, sherlock), handjob, whining, cum eating, edging, face sitting, riding, subby Simpbur for y’all :)

Do I know how to write leash play? No. Did I love writing this? Yes.

Fic below cut!

“Good boy,” I coo, letting Wilbur pull another orgasm from my shaking body as I ride the waves of my high. “You’ve been doing so well tonight.”

He’s eager to please, grinning from between my legs. “Really?”

“Really,” I promise, stroking his head. “Do you want to pick something to try as a treat?”

Wilbur thinks for a moment, turning a flushed pink. “Don’t laugh.”

“I wouldn’t laugh at you, baby.” Pulling him up to my chest, I plant a kiss on his forehead. “If you say it, I’ll do it.”

“I bought a leash and collar…” Wilbur trails off, giving me a guilty look. “I thought you could control me better with that.”

My eyes light up as he pulls it out from the box we keep our sex stuff in, a pink glittery leash and collar set dangling from his hand like a prize.

“Aww, you got it all pretty just for me?” I smile, ruffling Wilbur’s chestnut curls. “Such a good boy, I can’t wait to try it out.”

With the leash and collar affixed, he looks even more pathetic than normal. “Please can you jerk me off now?” He whimpers, hand trailing close to his cock. “You’ve been teasing me for hours!”

I glance down at what I’ve been mostly ignoring for the past hour or so- his dick. It looks painfully hard, absolutely dripping with precum, the reminder of the teasing and edging before I had him eat me out until I couldn’t take it anymore.

“I suppose,” I muse aloud, pushing him back to lay on the bed and straddling his thighs. “Only if you’re a good boy?”

“I’ll… I’ll be good, babe, I promise,” he whines, thrusting against my palm when I place it over him. “S-sorry, I’m too horny.”

I lightly tug the leash to test it, not expecting the moan that comes out of Wilbur when I do, hips pushing up into thin air in the search for stimulation.

“You like the leash, sweetie?” I giggle, watching him nod frantically. “Awww, you’re adorable like this.”

I cup my hand on the base of his cock, rubbing it for a few seconds before bending down to lick his tip, drinking in the sweet whines Wilbur’s making.

“I just love how sensitive you are,” I whisper in his ear as I kiss his happy trail, tugging on the leash as I lick a line up his shaft and stroke down the other side with the tip of my finger. “God, it makes me so wet.”

I spend a good half hour teasing Wilbur to my liking, tugging the leash as I lick and stroke all over his pretty, leaking cock. He’s been so good, not complaining one bit how long he’s been waiting to cum.

“Since you’ve been so good, I’ll give you another treat,” I smile, wrapping the leash around my hand as I hover my needy pussy over his desperate cock.

Wilbur’s eyes widen from under his sweat-matted hair. “Really?”

“Yes, baby, really,” I reply, sinking down onto his cock and giggling as his eyes roll back in his head. “I want to reward you for being my good boy.”

I force his head up with the leash, making him watch as I bounce on his cock. All his whines and whimpers are music to my ears, his face a perfect picture of mind blowing pleasure.

“C-c-can I c-cum, please?” He almost screams, body shaking as he holds back. “Please?”

“Go ahead, sweetie,” I tell him, forcing him to keep his eyes on me as he lets go. And when he lets go? Wilbur’s entire body seems to lose control as the pleasure slams into him, a pile of shaking limbs and trembling digits. He fills me up and then some, cum leaking out of me and onto the sheets.

Once he’s come back down to earth, I wink at him. “Wouldn’t want to let that go to waste, hm?” I ask, barely giving him a chance to react before tugging myself up with the leash and sitting on his face, . His tongue snakes out, cleaning up his cum and swallowing everything I give him.

“Good boy,” I praise, kissing his forehead and taking off his collar. “How about I get us cleaned up?”

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notafunkiller · 1 year ago

Text

sweet nothing

Summary: Bucky and you attend an awards show, but an interviewer makes sure to ruin your night before it even starts. The loss of your project makes you have a breakdown when you get home, and Bucky does his best to comfort you.

Pairing: director!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader

Warnings: 18+, age gap (r is 24, Bucky is 36), teasing, dirty talk, language, pet names, fingering, oral sex (the reader receiving), clit play, come eating, a little metal arm kink, daddy kink, no condom (but they are both clean and the reader is on birth control), no mention of y/n

Word Count: 4.2K

story masterlist

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: Bucky’s look is obviously inspired by Sebastian’s appearance at D23 Expo in 2022. Also, this happens a few months after the second part, in October.

An extra thank you to @marvelouslizzie and @lavenderhaze967 for being my beta readers and for the endless support.

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

You really can’t decide what to say. The remark came so unexpectedly, you were taken aback.

You don’t know how they knew about your vacation. The photos and some false info were spread all over the internet, and you found out only after you came back home.

You expected things to calm down from July until now, though, but they didn’t. They actually became worse and worse. But despite that, you didn’t even think you were going to get this type of comment tonight, especially since you announced you refuse to talk about your personal life. You should have known better… Bucky was right, you can never trust the press and you should never have expectations.

“Even though this has nothing to do with tonight and I said I won’t talk about anything related to my personal life multiple times...”

“I wasn’t-” The interviewer tries to interrupt you, surprised by your cold tone, but you don’t let her. If they want to speculate, then at least you can let it out now. They can do whatever they want after.

“To make things clear, Mr. Barnes is actually one of the most professional people I’ve ever worked with… one of the best: kind and supportive, and he always gives the best feedback.”

“Miss-”

You ignore her once again, raising your hand to stop her. “He is blunt, honest, and hasn’t been anything but professional the whole time. He made a massive contribution to the film industry and he’s been in the public eye for so long... If you had done your research, you’d have known how everyone, especially the women he worked with, talked and talk about him.” You take a deep breath, trying to keep your composure before you look straight at the camera. “Also, no, I did not sleep with him or anyone else to get any kind of role. Thank you!”

You don’t realize how much you’re shaking or how many tears you were holding back until you reach the bathroom. You’re thankful Bucky is inside already. He doesn’t deserve this shitty attitude, and you know he would have made a scene and stopped this on the spot if he’d witnessed it.

So you don’t tell Bucky about it, not wanting to give him bad vibes, especially since you know how he already feels about going to events in general. Your table is full when you get there: a part of the cast and the crew along with Bucky’s manager. Natasha couldn’t come this time, but you know everyone, so it’s better than you expected.

“Wine?” Bucky asks you softly, leaning in so only you can hear him.

“Later, please. I have a small headache.”

“Oh, no, baby.” He kisses your forehead as soon as you finish talking. “Do you need a pill?”

You love how he never hides or tries to keep his distance when you go out together. Maybe it’s nothing much after all, but you know how discreet he is, how much he values privacy, and it makes you truly feel a part of his life.

“Don’t worry, it will go away.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, yes.” You brush it off with a smile, and he nods, unsure, getting back in his chair properly.

You can’t let your emotions eat you alive, anger or nervousness... you just can’t. But it’s easier said than done because time passes so slowly until your categories are announced. Not even joking around with Bucky’s manager helps. She has such amazing vibes usually, but you are too deep in your thoughts to fully embrace them.

By the time the nominees in your category are announced, Bucky gets you all ice cream, making sure they put two spoons for you: one with chocolate and another with biscuits. It’s so delicious, but you instantly stop eating when the small video with a few of your scenes is projected. People around you clap loudly, but you can’t look around much, your cheeks so flushed when the camera stops on you again. Bucky even whistles using the index and middle fingers of his flash hand, which makes you giggle. He’s so cute!

“And the winner for Best Actress in a Drama is...”

It’s like the world stops for a second: the tension, the lack of air, the ringing in your ear... you can’t hear anything. But you can read body language and see everyone’s shoulders falling. You don’t dare to look at Bucky, only smiling in joy for whoever won and trying to hold back tears. Every woman on that list deserves it. They are all fantastic. You aren’t upset because someone else won. You just feel like a failure because you lost. It’s like you disappointed the people who care about you, who took a shot with you. Bucky... who saw something in you and risked it. You know how silly it is because he isn’t the type of person who would even think that, but you can’t just control the train of thoughts that keeps overwhelming you.

“I’m so sorry, baby.”

You still can’t look at your sweet, comforting Bucky. Fuck, such a crybaby... You just nod and take your spoon with your right hand so you can have more ice cream.

He better wins!

The movie loses shortly after you, and it’s your turn to comfort him. You don’t pay attention to the camera focusing on you or Lucas tapping on his arm in a consolation gesture when you turn your face toward him and kiss his cheek. “I’m sorry, bubba.”

He melts instantly under your touch. “Don’t be.”

But how can you not be? It makes your insides burn. This man you know so well professionally and personally deserves every fucking award this industry has. He is fantastic! The movie was fantastic, too.

The urge to cry takes over you the moment the winner of the best director category is announced, but it’s not Bucky. And you think he senses it because he squeezes your thigh gently to assure you. You…

You cannot believe this.

You have a bitter taste in your mouth for the rest of the night there, which is short since Bucky suggests leaving earlier. You hate awards ceremonies officially, too.

The car ride is no better. You find it harder and harder to hold back your tears, and the last thing you want is Bucky to see. He asked you if you were hungry, and asked you to stay over at his place. How could you say no? No, Bucky, I want to go home and cry angry and disappointed. You spend most of your nights at his house anyway, so it would make him worry. Especially since the distance to your apartment is longer.

You let a deep breath out when he closes the door, turning on the lights as you start to take off your shoes.

“Home sweet home.” He gives you a tired smile.

“Ihm. Finally.” You don’t trust your voice to say more than that and you let your bag and phone on the small table before going straight to the kitchen.

“Next time we’re invited, we ditch to watch a movie or something and make love.”

His words are enough to send you over the edge somehow. When you hear his footsteps closer, you instantly turn around to face the sink, grabbing the kitchen counter in an attempt to hold back the tears. But it’s so hard…

“Baby?”

Fuck, he’s so close.

“Bubba?”

And that’s all you need to burst into tears. But you’re not just crying, you are fully sobbing when you feel his arms wrapping around you.

“Bubba, breathe, please.” He rests his head on your shoulder, and you feel so naked, so bare in a way... Something you feared for so long. You are vulnerable in a way you only let your family see you, not even them maybe. It’s like you’re giving him access to your inner child. And it’s terrifying.

“I-I’m ss-sorry.” You are gasping for air between words, and this makes you feel even worse. You sound so pathetic.

“What are you sorry for, bubba? Focus on breathing, please.” Bucky’s voice is so calm and soothing, you almost let yourself fall into his arms. You can’t believe this safe sensation you feel. It’s shocking to you. You trust him to hold you and comfort you even when you look this deplorable.

“In and out.” You breathe in and out every time he says the words and it slowly becomes easier; the air doesn’t feel like it burns your lungs anymore.

You feel his kisses on the back of your head. “Good girl, perfect. Just like that.”

You open your eyes as soon as your body stops trembling and turn to him instantly. You probably look like a wet raccoon, but you don’t care. You hug him so tight you wonder if he can even breathe. But you can’t let go.

Bucky’s glad he took off his jacket since the zipper would have hurt your face.

“I’m right here, not going anywhere.”

“I’m ss-sorry,” you say weakly, taking a step back. “It’s just so unfair!”

His whole face softens even more. He understands... your first nominee and your first loss. This is never easy, especially for someone ambitious and talented.

“I know it hurts, but I promise you more will come, and they will finally give you the awards you deserve. You were amazing.” He takes your hands into his and brings them to his mouth.

“It’s not about me!”

“What?”

“You deserved to win!” You can’t control the anger in your voice. “This movie, the whole concept, the team... Maybe it’s because of the way I-”

“Stop right there! You have nothing to blame yourself for. And you don’t have to feel bad for me, okay, bubba?” His mouth finds your forehead. “Of course, it bothers me a little, but these awards come and go. Sure, some bring more opportunities, but I don’t give a fuck about it. You were a fantastic lead. You are fantastic! But I promise you, you will get more awards because you deserve them. I was mad for you. Don’t worry about me, alright?”

“But you deserve it!”

“It’s just an award, baby. I am proud of this project and of everyone who was a part of it, especially you. It wasn’t easy and it was emotionally draining.”

He wipes your face, and you curse. You should have worn waterproof mascara.

“I just don’t...”

“Don’t ever blame yourself again.” He pauses. “Actually, you will because you can’t control that, it’s not a switch. What I mean is don’t try to hide from me, don’t let the thoughts overwhelm you before talking to me. Or someone... anyone: your sister, your mom, Natasha. I just want you to know I am here for you.” He kisses your lips shortly. “I got you, and you got me.”

He barely has time to finish his sentence before you grab his face and kiss him, your tongue immediately licking his bottom lip. It’s something about the way he reacted, about his permanent attitude and the way he looks that makes you dizzy. So dizzy that you easily switch from feeling anger and fear to sexual desire.

You keep kissing him until you two can’t breathe anymore. He’s so sweet, so good. You can’t help it...

“I want to suck your cock.”

He opens his eyes instantly.

“What?”

“Want to take you inside my mouth. Now.” You repeat with such urgency that his shock is increasing.

“Wait, you don’t have to-”

But his words die as your hands are already on his belt, taking it off in seconds. When it loudly hits the floor, you unzip the pants, dragging them down along with his boxers with force. So much force he gasps.

“Please, daddy.”

You drop to your knees in seconds, making sure to properly grab the base before leaning in to kiss his wet head.

“Jesus!”

He has to grab the kitchen counter behind you to stand still.

“Just me.” You smirk a little and take more of his cock inside your mouth. He’s getting harder little by little. When you start to move your hand , though? He finally gets in his usual horny mood, understanding you really want this.

“Fuck, look at you! On your knees just for me. So needy!”

You moan, bringing your left hand to his balls as you start to bob your head. You just want him to come.

“Baby, please. Fuck me!” He groans, and you suddenly feel your hair getting pulled hard as if he’s trying to get you away from his cock. You stop sucking just to snap:

“Why are you taking my cock from me?”

“Because it wants to be inside my pussy.”

You snort.

He helps you stand up and kisses you without any worry. You moan when you feel his hands on your breasts, then to your sides, and before you can even say anything, you hear the sound of the material ripping.

“Hurry up!” You complain, waiting for him to finish undressing you as you keep kissing his neck.

Your bra and underwear are next and you can’t believe how free you feel.

“You are so fucking beautiful!”

“Need you, please...”

He nods, immediately lifting you in his arms, and you don’t stop kissing him until your back hits the bed.

“How do you want me?” You ask, and he frowns.

“What do you mean?”

“Position, Bucky.” You try to clean your face with the back of your hand as you wait for his answer.

“We can start like this.” He gets between your legs and lifts them on his shoulders. His hair is messy, all over his forehead, and you giggle, brushing it away from his eyes.

You’re so wet he gets inside you in one movement, and you both moan. The fullness is so good, you arch your back. Sex with Bucky will never get boring, you are sure of it. He’s a perfect combination between caring, desperate, and curious.

“Bucky!”

“Yes, bubba, I’m here.” He kisses you as he starts to thrust. “I’m right here.”

Your legs are wrapped around his ass, pushing him inside you harder every time he pulls almost completely out.

“God, I love your cock so much!”

“Just that?” He pouts, making you laugh. He’s a baby and a daddy at the same time.

“I love you, bubba, you know that.”

“And I” thrust “want” thrust “to hear” thrust “it again and again.”

“Fuck.” You close your eyes, turning your face to the side without realizing.

“Eyes on me, doll. Eyes on daddy.”

“It’s hard...” you cry out, even more turned on by him calling himself your daddy. It fits him so much!

“Fine.” He uses his metal arm to turn you around on your tummy.

“Bucky!” You scream because of the sudden movement and the empty feeling since he pulled out.

“Hands and knees since you don’t want to look at me.”

You shake your head, amused, but you get in the position, raising your ass as much as you can. You love when he fucks you like this. Everything feels deeper, and there’s no distance despite the fact you can’t properly see him or kiss him. “So dramatic of you.”

You flinch without realizing when you feel his palm connecting with your ass cheeks.

“Does it hurt?”

“No, no.” You quickly assure him, looking up when you hear his worried tone. He never spanks you too hard, and the amount of strength he uses makes you enjoy it. It always makes you wet. “Just didn’t expect it.”

“Good.” He kisses your forehead. “Ready?”

“Hurry!”

He quickly gets inside you as soon as you finish speaking, and you gasp. It takes your breath away, but you can’t help but wiggle your ass. His hands grab your hips and he finally starts to literally pound you just the way you both enjoy it. His cold metal fingers feel so good.

“B-Bucky!”

“Do you love it, baby?” You hear him, but you don’t understand how he expects you to answer. You can’t even breathe properly.

“Ihm.”

“Fuck, you’re so wet around me. I love you so much.”

You try to tell him you love him back, but the words are so distorted you give up.

You’re close already.

“Are you gonna come for me? Are you gonna be a good girl and let go? Make daddy prouder?”

And just like that, you come. You don’t hear anything anymore: you can’t distinguish the words, only his voice. You feel so good, so light, that you don’t realize the wave of tears that hits you.

Bucky smiles, knowing these are from so much pleasure, and doesn’t continue to thrust much until he comes inside you. You moan again, encouraging him to fill you. To give you as much come as he has.

“Yes, yes. Please, need your come.” And you know he loses his mind every time you do that. “Please, daddy.”

A few seconds later, you feel him move his hands.

“Fuck me, baby, this was incredible.”

You nod, trying to find your words again.

“Yes, it... it was.” He helps you turn around after he gets out of you and groans.

“You look so fucking good! Perfect to eat right now.”

He makes you laugh before you slowly kiss him, moaning when your tongues find each other. There is something unique about the way he uses that mouth.

“I mean it. Gonna eat you now, ok?”

It’s the only warning you get before your head drops to the bed again and his is between your legs. His shoulders are broad enough to keep your legs extra spread, and you try to keep your eyes open just to enjoy the sight.

But it’s hard. His tongue on your clit then at your entrance, licking and eating his own come combined with yours makes you so weak you have to grab his hair to have a focus point other than his mouth.

“Jamesss.”

Your hips move uncontrolled toward his mouth as soon as you feel him slowing down. He tries to keep your back on the bed by pushing your tummy down with his metal arm, but it’s impossible. The coldness on your skin makes you cry even more.

“Fuck, fuck, Bucky, please...”

You can’t believe how close you are again, but his tongue is always great. You don’t remember a single time he didn’t make you come like this.

You gasp when he moves his tongue up to your clit quickly, which you did not expect. Even though you should have... you should have expected him to bring two metal fingers to your mouth and command you to suck them, then to push them inside you at once as he sucks on your clit. And sucks. And sucks. And when he takes it between his teeth, grazing it just enough, you come.

You don’t even realize you are screaming, the pleasure so overwhelming you can’t think even for a second. And he doesn’t stop, he keeps using his tongue and fingers until you have to beg him to.

You’re trembling, absolutely consumed when he moves up to kiss you.

“Fuck, we taste so good, doll.”

You kiss him again, making sure to lick his lips before he opens his mouth. You taste amazing together, indeed.

“Yes.”

“Good. Are you feeling better now?”

“I can’t feel my body,” you say before laughing.

“Are you sore?”

You touch his face. “I feel well fucked, daddy, don’t worry.”

His face is priceless every time you call him that. It’s funny how a big man like him gets red so easily. You never get over this.

“You and that… name.”

You pinch his chin immediately, stroking his hair. “As if you don’t enjoy it.”

“I do. Look what you did to me!” He shakes his head in a disapproving way, and you feel happy. He makes everything lighter... easier for you. He learned when and how to push you, and it helps that you have a similar sense of humor.

“I’m better now, thank you. It’s just so unfair because you are a wonderful director.”

“Just director?”

You giggle, seeing his pouty mouth. “And writer.”

“And?”

“And?” You raise your eyebrow.

“What else?”

“I don’t-” You burst into laughter when you feel his hands tickling you. “Stop! Stop! F-fine! Best... best boyfriend.”

“What? Didn’t hear you.”

You roll your eyes. He’s so predictable sometimes.

“B-best boyfriend in the world. Now stop! You’re so unfair!”

“Alright.” He gives you a boyish grin, which makes him look so young. His smile never changed from what you saw. His childhood pictures, his college ones... he kept it and it makes him so adorable.

“I love you, old man.”

“Not this again.” He fake puffs before kissing you. “I love you, too.”

You wake up with a few notifications and a message from Bucky telling you he’s gone to do some grocery shopping. You were wondering why the house was silent. Even when he wakes up earlier than you and tries to be silent, there is a low sound from the TV or his music player.

What you don’t expect is to have thousands of DMS and following requests as soon as you open your Instagram.

You don’t understand at first, still sleepy and hungry, until you scroll through your feed and see Bucky’s post. You almost drop your phone.

There are two photos. The first is only with you, but you don’t remember when he took it. You’re not looking at the camera, staring at the sunset, so it’s clear he took it without you knowing. He’s had this for months... and he never showed it to you. God, you miss Italy!

When you swipe to the next pic, one with both of you as he’s biting your cheek, you laugh. You were being so silly that day. Your fourth date... He was ready to eat your whole face and he didn’t want to take no for an answer, so you started to bite and suck his chin in return. It was the first time you spent the night at his house. It feels like years ago...

Then your eyes finally drop to the description and you start crying a little.

I already won the best award that exists a few months ago❤️ Thank you for your support!

You notice he turned off the comments, but many common friends liked the post.

Fuck, that means you are officially together everywhere. Wow.

You can’t believe what you woke up to. You two never kept your relationship a secret, but you preferred being discreet. You are aware of how this looks from the outside, both of you do, but does it matter? At the end of the day, the people you care about know the truth, you work hard to get jobs, and that’s enough.

You immediately open your gallery and choose a couple of photos with you and him, then just with him: hugging, Bucky kissing your cheek, him making dance moves, his face up close... some random pics you love.

You choose to use only a red heart as your caption at first, but before you publish, you add a few words because it doesn’t feel enough and even tag him on your boobs.

What a view: @jbuckybarnes #photosdump

Happily, you let the comments on and look for a certain short video you absolutely adore from your vacation: he has his head on your lap, napping soundlessly while you run your hand through his hair. His face might not be visible, but it’s clear it’s him. His shoulders, his moles, and his hair...

You remember how he groaned and whined every time you stopped touching his curls, bringing your hand back to his head.

“Bubba, more...”

Smiling, you tag him in a small font, choosing a color to fit the yacht floor, and post it.

The next fifteen minutes you spend in the bathroom, taking a shower, doing your routine, and changing into some clothes you left here the last time.

“Baby?” You jump when you hear Bucky in the bedroom all of a sudden, but you don’t let the shock hold you back from jumping on him.

He catches you, thankfully, and holds you by the ass as you kiss him all over his face and neck before stopping on his lips. Your tongue finds his and you moan in his mouth shortly after, making him groan, too.

“Good morning!”

“I love you,” you whisper, resting your head on his chest.

“I love you, too. Didn’t want to leave before you woke up, but we needed breakfast.”

“Can’t believe you did that.”

“What?” He asks genuinely confused.

“You know what!” You say, words muffled by the material of his T-shirt. You are surprised how this small normal thing made you so happy you can burst.

“Ah.” He realizes, leaning in a bit to kiss your hair. “I should have done it ages ago.”

You really hate how he tends to take the full blame when it’s not the case. “We then... but now it’s the perfect timing.”

“Yes, the perfect timing.” He carries you around until you are both back in bed.

The breakfast can wait, so can you to see his reaction when he finds your posts.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #celebrity!bucky barnes #director!bucky barnes #daddy!bucky barnes #sebastisn stsn #bucky barnes fluff #my fanfics #my stories #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #bucky barnes x reader smut

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f1nalgirlz · 10 months ago

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Desperation. | Charlie Walker

in which Ghostface (Charlie Walker) attacks a girl he’d always been attracted to, in anger of her never noticing him. She pleads with him, assuring him she’d do anything for her life. Would he take this opportunity to get what he’d always wanted from her?

˗ˏˋcontents´ˎ˗ Charlie Walker x reader, fem! reader, p in v, nsfw, use of y/n, college student y/n still living with her parents, disappearing act ghostface

˗ˏˋwarnings´ˎ˗ violent themes, serial killer(ghostface), sexual themes, knife mention, creampie, fingering.

The night was extremely dark, not to mention chilly. By now it was mid-October and everyone in Woodsboro was buzzing about the recent murders amping up. Some people cared, but to most, it seemed like a big joke. To Y/N however, it was far from it. The killings had gotten increasingly more violent and depraved. The news coverage and talk about it amongst the population made Y/N’s heart feel like it was tensing up in her chest, unable to push any blood through her body. Looking out the window of her house she couldn’t see any people walking around or any porch lights turned on. This was likely because of the countywide curfew put in place by the police department. Before the murders had started, her parents had to take a trip abroad, trusting her alone in Woodsboro. After hearing about the murders, they instantly regretted their decision. Unfortunately, their tickets were nonrefundable. They were forced to stay on their work trip with no way back to their daughter.

Y/n pulled the curtains she was gazing out of shut and walked over to check that the front door was still locked. When she confirmed it was, she did her rounds, checking all locks and closing curtains downstairs. Once she was satisfied she went upstairs to her room with increasingly heavy eyes. When she pushed the sturdy oak door open, however, something felt different, shocking some drowsiness out of her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She noticed next that the curtains in her room were flowing with the wind… her window was open.

She really wasn’t a dramatic person, but she was so sure that she had closed that window maybe not locked it but definitely closed. Slowly, she creeped towards the window, moving the curtains aside to see how far it was open… fully. It was fully open. When she stuck her head out to peek down, right there was the ladder from her backyard leaned up against the side of the house. She barely had time to process the ladder being lined up with her window before she felt a sharp pain in her scalp.

As her eyes darted to the side, trying desperately to see her intruder she felt the gloved hand tighten, pulling her hair painfully. The pain alone made tears prick up in her eyes. “Please, what do you want?” She cried hoarsely, but she was just dragged to the floor by her hair. When she landed on her back she looked up, a medium height person looming over her in a ghostface costume. This revelation made her heart sink, tears fully welling up into her eyes now. “Please… I’ll do anything… just please don’t kill me.” She said, some tears rolling down her cheeks as she scooted away from the figure above her, not daring to stand up from the floor. The ghostface tilted his head, as if he was thinking about her words, then came another desperate plea. “I’ll do anything! I won’t even report this to the cops or tell ANYONE please!” She was fully begging now, sobbing as she did. Charlie raised his eyebrows under his mask. ‘Was she serious?’ He thought to himself but decided not to dwell on it. He wanted her, he’d wanted her so badly for so long, this could be his opportunity right? Her stomach twisted when she felt a strong hand grabbing her by the arm, slamming her down on her own bed, face down. She sucked in a deep breath when she heard the jingling of a belt, fear paralyzed her, but something in her stomach felt tingly. When she felt gloved hands yanking down her pajama shorts and panties, her cheeks flushed. She was not only embarrassed that she was being exposed like this, but also ashamed that this current treatment was making her feel things. Not just the usual things someone would feel in the situation, like terror, but she was feeling her heat pulsating between her legs. She'd never admit it to anyone else, but she'd always read books about situations like this. When she got off sometimes she'd even imagine it happening to her. She knew it wasn’t right, but she couldn’t help her interest in it. She bit her lower lip when her legs were spread by two aggressive hands, as she obediently remained bent over her bedside. She remained quiet, not daring to look back at him until she felt something hard and warm thrust into her pussy. It had slid in easily, no resistance at all due to how wet she'd gotten simply from being manhandled this way. She’d turned to look back at him, her lips falling into an ‘o’ shape, she’d almost looked surprised. That’s what Charlie would’ve thought anyway, had a low moan not slipped out of her mouth. The masked man tilted his head at her as he began thrusting into her at a steady pace.

As the man thrusted inside her, she tried to remain unmoving, knowing he had a knife. Still, even knowing he’d broke into her house to kill her, she couldn’t stop herself from feeling pleasure. It made her body hot and her stomach tighten. The way he pounded into her, occasionally tugging her hair with a gloved hand made her uncontrollably moan. It was even better than she'd imagined in the past, the fear of his knife penetrating her skin just added to the adrenaline rush of the whole situation. Y/n was desperate for him and it was obvious by the way she pushed her hips back against his when he thrusted into her, the way her eyes fluttered shut, rolling back every time they opened, and especially by the way long strings of moans were escaping her mouth. Y/n was absolutely shameless by now. She wasn't the only one thoroughly enjoying this encounter though, Charlie was too. Moans and grunts escaping him, muffled by his mask. As his thrusts grew sloppier the clatter of the knife hitting the hardwood floor could be heard. Y/n felt the gloved hands aggressively gripping the skin of her hips, slamming her onto his cock roughly, a choked moan leaving her lips as her chest heaved. Her cunt was throbbing, pulsing around him as her hands desperately grasped for anything to hold onto, which ended up being her blanket. The previously silent room was filled with the sounds of skin meeting skin, heavy breathing, and moans from both people in the room. A smile was working its way onto Charlie's lips, though no one would even be able to see it, he could feel a burning in his stomach as he watched how the girl reacted underneath him. Charlie could feel his orgasm nearing as he continued to hammer into her, cumming deep into her soon after the feeling built up. Her throbbing pussy milking every drop from him, as he slumped forward, chest against her back. A low moan escaped him as she continued moving her hips against his now still ones until, he couldn't stand the overstimulation any longer and pulled out. The girl under him moaned softly, and a wet noise followed his movements.

A soft whine left her lip, she was achingly close but hadn't gotten to cum. Though just inches away from release, she wasn't about to push her luck with a serial killer. However, her whine and lack of release didn't go unnoticed by Charlie though, as he slipped his gloves off and tossed them to the floor. His eyes over her body, still bent over the bed, cum leaking from her used hole. He used two fingers to scoop it up, pushing it back into her pussy, the contact making her moan again. That's when the man spoke for the first time that night, "You wanna cum?" he asked her teasingly, she didn't even have time to be surprised, just giving him a vigorous nod in response. His fingers worked their way inside her skillfully, pressing into every right spot in her warmth. She moaned again as he massaged her pulsing cunt, spreading her legs with his free hand and wrapping his arm around her to rub her clit. She was too entranced to notice how familiar the voice sounded. As his fingers pumped in and out of her, she felt her orgasm building up in her stomach. She was getting closer by the second until finally she was sent over the edge, pussy tightening around Charlie's fingers and a loud moan escaping her, being muffled by her shoving her face into her bed. As she came, his fingers continued to move inside her, letting her ride out her orgasm.

As Y/n came down from her high, catching her breath while body slumped over the side of her bed she finally decided to sit up and look around. The ghostface who'd been there previously was gone. She was a little relieved, but a lot confused. Standing up on her shaky legs, she scanned the empty room. Her body was utterly exhausted, instead of cleaning herself up she decided to just crawl into her bed and sleep.

R: long time no see... i know this is kinda ass, especially at the end, but i had an idea and wanted to write for it. i started working on this back in October and never finished it until now.. it is also not proofread yet so lmk if you see any typos or errors of any kind. I greatly appreciate any feedback good or bad. i'm working on a few vampire fics atm but i have a lot of ideas i wanna do. i also wanna write some more stuff for non-Rory characters so yeah!

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cerebralinvasion · 10 months ago

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yandere october 2023 event day 2

“lock”

you were not a criminal. despite your many faults, it was one of the things you could be confident in. of course, you wouldn’t say you’re the most innocent person on earth nor that you were any kind of saint, however you were, at the very least, not a criminal. and certainly not on any level that would cause the hunting dogs to be after you. so why were you being treated like some kind of terrorist?

innocent civilians don’t get chained up and monitored by a member of the military. so maybe there was some sort of alternative explanation. one that an ordinary person like you wouldn’t automatically think of. one that would make more sense. maybe you had been framed. framed for something really, really bad. so bad that the government didn’t even want to risk taking you in normally and had to come in and abducted you like this. once you could talk to that military officer you'd seen, you could explain everything to him. it would all be annoying, sure. having to wait through a trial while you proved you weren’t guilty for… whatever this was would be a terrible waste of time. but at the very least you’d get out of it relatively soon. maybe you would even be compensated for the emotional damage.

thoughts like that calmed you down. they always did. coming up with rational explanations of the irrational and unexplainable never failed to mollify you in stressful situations. with a few deep breaths, your heart stopped racing and you were done panicking. all you had to do was wait for him to talk to you and you would explain everything.

you didn’t have to wait very long.

you had no more than a total of twenty more seconds to yourself before the silence was broken by the sound of a door creaking. you shifted, turning your body in the direction of whoever had entered the chamber that laid somewhere between the line of a bedroom and a cell. his presence was overwhelming. he was tall, and you being seated on the ground did nothing to help how he loomed over you. despite how his eyes remained closed, you could tell all his attention was hooked on you, all his senses piercing through your soul. your breath hitched. all the words you had been planning out left your mind and you felt yourself freeze.

“hello” he smiled at you when he spoke. a smile far softer, far more dissarming than it had any right to be.

like a deer caught in headlights, you couldn’t bring even your mouth to move. instead you stared up at him with wide eyes. too scared to even attempt to respond. all the calming yourself down had been for naught, it seemed. because just looking up at the man had sent you right back to square one.

“no ‘hi’ back? that’s a little rude, don’t you think?” he tilted his head just barely. an action too innocent for someone so innately threatening.

your mouth opened and closed repeatedly but no sound came out. you tried your best to mold your words into some kind of apology, but you just couldn’t manage. he noticed this and laughed at you.

“seems you're a little worked up. not to worry, you’re safe here.”

“i’m- i’m not a criminal!” finally your mouth gave way to movement and you managed to blurt out the words.

“i know that.” he didn’t miss a beat before the words fell from his mouth.

and suddenly you were cold. because with only three words he had thrown out any little bits of rationalization you had managed to scrounge up. you were back to square one with no idea as to what was happening. not an inkling to the man’s motivation or intentions.

then he smiled as if he could read your mind. a knowing edge clung to the faint smirk which was smeared across his face.

“you’re not a criminal, and thus you’re not being detained. do you know what that means?”

his grin widened as he leaned down, closer to your level but still towering above you. after a short beat of silence he continued.

“it means that even the law can’t save you from this prison. there will be no proving of your innocence, because i already know you are innocent. you aren’t here for legal affairs, no, this is… personal.”

“personal? i don’t even know you!” your voice betrayed more of your genuine fear and uncertainty than you’d have liked it to.

“then how about we change that? because i know you, very well in fact.” he gave the words a second to sink in and for you to reach your own conclusions. “you may call me jouno. from this point forward, you’re officially mine.”

#my bad for forgetting about these guys i’ll try to wrap this event up this month 😭😭#bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #yandere bsd #yandere bsd x reader #bsd x you #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bungo stray dogs #yandere bungo stray dogs x reader #yandere jouno x reader #jouno saigiku #bsd jouno saigiku #jouno x reader #jouno saigiku x reader

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ravennaortiz · 1 month ago

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October 6th is Yandere Tig with the prompt: How did you know that? Requested by the lovely @aimkatsz. As always 18+

Dark content divider courtesy @cafekitsune

“Fuck” muttered Tig as he slammed the trunk shut. What have I done? He thought to himself as he slammed his fist down on the cold metal. How could he have fucked up so badly? What was he thinking? He had been flying to close to the sun. His love and passion had blinded him. Dulled the smooth, cold calculating criminal mentality he possessed. Once he was calm he took another look around the dark street before slipping into the driver’s seat and making his way to a hideout outside of town.

Two hours prior

You were sipping your Merlot as you listened to the man across from you tell you a story from his time in the Marines. You at first had been unsure when he had asked you out for dinner last week. While you found the blue eyed, curly haired man attractive. He had trouble spelled out very neatly on the leather vest he wore. Though tonight he had surprised you by showing up in a dark black button up and black jeans. He had even brought you a small bouquet of your favorite flowers by surprise and took you to what happened to be your favorite restaurant.

You were surprised how much fun you were having. You had not expected to have as much as common as you did. He loved animals, especially cats. Had a small plant collection he was obsessed over, painted and did woodworking in his free time. The two of you already had a second date planned for you to check out his workshop. Though you had an ulterior motive of wanting to meet his cats.

“You know Alexander if I didn’t know better I’d think you had been stalking me” you giggled later as the wine made you bold.

“Just coincidence Doll. I’m a perfect gentlemen” replied Tig as he raised his hands up in defense as he laughed. Though you were not to far from the truth. While Tig had only shown himself to you a couple weeks ago he had known you for six months. He had been head over heels the moment you had passed him on the highway out of Lodi. You had been carefree and singing to your hearts delight. Not a care in the world as you sipped past him. Your perfume tickling his nose as he caught a whiff on the breeze.

He had followed you for a few miles. Pulling off and parking a few spots over from you at a rest stop. He took note of your make and model. Jotting down the license plate. He walked and got himself a drink out of the vending machine while you went into the bathroom. The dress you had on hugging every delicious curve. The sway of your hips had him tight in the jeans as his mind wandered to what your flesh would feel like in his hands.

Once he had gotten back to Charming he had Juice look you up under the guise of club business. He had been disappointed to find out you had a boyfriend, but that didn’t last for long. Poor guy hadn’t taken a hike like Tig had suggested. So like the other men you chose to go on dates with over the last six months he met an early demise in the local crematorium.

Tig had been in your house many times. Sleeping and masturbating in your bed when you were out of town. Hell he even had taken to sneaking in and watching you touch yourself before falling asleep at night. He had stolen at least twenty pairs of panties over the last few months. He was bold leaving glasses out, cumming on your bed, clothes or in your shower and just leaving it. He knew he was getting obsessive. That what he was doing was wrong but he couldn’t stop. Not until he had you all to himself. He had wanted you to want him on your own. All was going fine until the slip up.

“How did you know that?!” you demanded again as you stared wide eyed at Tig. His eyes met yours as his fingers hovered over your alarm system. You had just watched your date put your alarm code in. A code he should not know. You felt icy cold as terror swept over you. You went to bolt but the wine had you stumbling and the man was too quick.

Present

You lay bound and gagged in the trunk for who knows how long. You had long since cried yourself out. You were numb and just wanted to wake up from this nightmare. You heard the car to turn onto gravel before cutting off. The slam of a car door jolted you before the door to the trunk popped open. It was still dark but the sun could be seen starting to brighten the horizon.

“Welcome home Doll” murmured Tig as he scooped you out of the trunk and carried you towards a cabin. Eventually you would love him and be the perfect little wife.

Return to Masterlist

#ravennas2024octoberbingo #sons of anarchy #ravennasmasterlist #halloween #tig trager #tig trager fanfiction #tig trager fanfic #soa fanfiction #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy fanfic #sons of anarchy fic #fanfiction #yandere ig

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musings-ofthe-unamused · 1 month ago

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In the Depths of the Ocean (Genshin Impact

Pairing: Osial x GN!Reader

Wordcount: 4.2k

Warnings: NSFW, tentacles, boat sex

A/N: I wrote this years ago for some Genshin friends so... have it as a treat as I work up some other fanfics for y'all

The giveaway is ongoing until October 15th! All you have to do is like, and you'll be entered!

The ocean was dark and cruel. It was never your favorite, despite you living near the harbor. It was always a fear of yours to set off in a boat only to be swallowed whole by aegean waves. Funnily enough, you came from a family of fishermen. Well, your father was a fisherman and your mother was a merchant. As a child, you would sit on the edge of the dock waiting for your father to come back. Every day, without fail, he would appear on the horizon, waving his arm and shouting your name. Every single day.

Except for today.

“He won’t come back,” Your mother was despondent, sitting by the window and looking at the calming sunset. “He’s with the ocean now.”

“Of course mother. I made some dinner, so please eat, ok? I have to go out for a bit”

Your mother didn’t move. It had been like this for a week. It was her way of mourning her husband. But you didn’t want to mourn. You didn’t need to. Your father was out there and you were going to find him. It was a terrible plan, sailing out to sea when you haven’t done so before. But you refused to do anything else. It was time to get over your fear.

There wasn’t much to take with you. A bag haphazardly filled with food and a large jug of water was all you needed. There was some gut feeling inside of you leading you to believe that he wasn’t so far from Liyue. You kissed Mother’s head, reminding her once again of the dinner you made. The door was light as you swung it shut, your body heavy as you trudged towards the docks. Not many people were milling about, only the Millelth and three or four fisherman coming back from sea. The weather was clear, clearer than it had been for a whole week. The air was crisp. A nice strong breeze blew through your hair.

As you made your way to the edge of the docks where the boats were stationed, you spotted a lone man checking the ropes on a small boat. You sighed slightly. If you were going to get another lecture, you’d rather ask someone else for help. But he was the only option at the moment. The only cheap option. You dropped the sack and jug into the boat, making it sway. The older man straightened, looking at you with unease as he held his hand out to you.

“If you could not haphazardly throw things about, that would be very kind of you.”

“You’re strong enough to keep yourself steady,” You grabbed his hand. “You are a Qixing after all, Uncle Tian.”

He laughed heartily as you stepped into the boat. His hand was strong and calloused. Like Father’s. Your brow furrowed as you took a deep breath, preparing yourself. Did you know how to work a boat? No. Did you know how to navigate? No. Were you hopeless when it came to directions and often got lost? Yes. None of this would stop you. If Rex Lapis was kind and if he cared about the people of Liyue as much as that was preached, then he would lead you to your father. No fear was strong enough to the fear of losing someone you loved.

“The stars are bright. You won’t have trouble losing your way since you’re good at that...right?”

“Sure, sure.” You frowned and turned towards him, crossing your arms.

“What?”

Uncle Tian was a mentor to your father and eventually became an honorary part of the family. He wasn’t as heartbroken when your father disappeared. You couldn’t tell if it was due to losing people in his long lifetime, or the hardened heart of a businessman. It made you bitter, either way. You were just ready to leave.

“Ok, this old man can take a hint. Just… be careful.”

“I will, Uncle Tian.

“I’ll keep an eye on your mother,” He said as he got off the boat.

“Thank you.”

Without another word, he pushed you off to sea. You sat down slowly, grasping the paddle in your hand. You couldn’t watch the harbor grow small behind you. It would be a sign that you were leaving forever. And you weren’t. You and your father would make it back safe and sound. The shaking in your hands stopped as you dipped the paddle into water. It moved languidly as you pushed through it, from side to side. Uncle Tian was right. The stars were awfully bright tonight. You sang a song quietly as you kept paddling. It was best to keep your mind distracted.

After a good thirty minutes, you stopped paddling to rest. Your breath was the only thing you could hear. You were far enough out from land where you couldn’t hear a single wave. The waters were calm and inviting. There was no light except for the stars glowing down onto you. It was peaceful. You leaned over the side of the boat. The waters were too dark to see. Although, you weren’t sure what you were looking for in the first place.

“Hmmm, what do we have here?” A voice so deep it made your body crumble to the ground disturbed the once calm waters.

Luminescent blue slowly flowed from the darkness. It was dull at first, growing brighter from the darkness. You’ve heard of bioluminescent creatures in the ocean, but these looked like giant tentacles. It grew so bright it was piercing your eyes as you shut them incredulously. You felt something underneath your chin, tilting it up. It was warm yet felt like air itself. Were you hallucinating?

“Open your eyes.”

You did as you were told. It was…a man? No, it wasn’t. It looked human, but it transcended any conceived thought of what you knew humans to be. Their navy blue eyes stared into yours. Their hair was light blue, flowing behind them as if it had a life of its own. Their clothes were..your eyes grew wide as you realized they were barely wearing any clothes. Only a pair of plain looking shorts.

“Who…who are you?” A small voice, your small voice spiked almost involuntarily.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” They leaned in close, their nose brushing yours. “You’re in my waters, after all.”

“Your...waters?”

“Ha!” Their laugh shook the boat. “Have they not taught you anything? Do you not recognize what is before you?”

“I..I don’t-”

The person melted into a puddle of water, seeping through unseen cracks in the boat. The blue light appeared again as the waters grew rough, rocking the boat. You clung desperately to the side. Then you saw it. Rising from the water were five heads connected to an unseen body in the waters. Your heart pounded as you realized just what you were looking at. A head slithered down, facing you directly. Fear shook your body but curiosity made you lean forward, caressing the head gently with your hand.

“You’re...Osial?”

“So you have heard of me.” They spoke once again, seemingly inside your head.

“Of course I have but I was under the impression you were sealed away.”

Water crashed down on you as Osial once again changed forms. They were back into the human-like entity, your hand still on their head. Osial was smiling, nuzzling their head into your hand. You shivered realizing you were now soaking wet, in the middle of the ocean, with a supposedly sealed away god on your boat.

“I am sealed away,” Osial spoke after a second, grabbing your hand off their head. “But I have just enough power to briefly appear in my hydra form. Or, appear in this human form for longer.”

“Humans don’t really have tentacles for hair.” You giggled.

“They don’t? I guess I’m special then.”

You jumped slightly as he wrapped his arms around you. Your eyes closed and you wrapped your arms around them. It wasn’t until they became scalding hot that you pushed yourself away in surprise. What were you doing? You were supposed to be looking for your father, cuddling up to an ancient and evil god.

“What are you doing?” You hissed, touching your now red skin. “That hurt!”

“You were cold and wet. So I tried warming you up.”

“Why would you-” You took a slow, deep, breath. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Are you looking for something?” Osial tilted their head.

“Yes. My father.” You turned from the god. “He got lost at sea last week.”

“I can help you.”

“You can?!” You whirled around.

“For a price.”

The corners of their lips curled up into an almost sinister smile. Another shiver was sent down your spine as you realized what you were up against. You didn’t know their plans or motives. Nor did you know if they would ensure your father’s safety if you were to find him. Then again, you were desperate enough to do anything.

“Will you swear not to harm him and bring him home safe and sound?”

“I promise.”

“Then…I want to form a contract.” You nodded, sitting on the bench of the boat.

“Ah, my least favorite word,” Osial sat next to you. “But we are in his land after all. What are your terms?”

“First of all, like I mentioned, no harm to my father. I also want you to not tell him who you are. He’s…quite the devoted follower of Rex Lapis.”

“Go on,” They sneered slightly at the mention of the God of Contracts.

“I also don’t want to die. As in…don’t take my soul or something in exchange for my father’s safe return. Finally, I want to forget this exchange after all is done.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“I don’t think I can sleep soundly knowing an ancient evil god is still conscious is probably plotting the demise of the man who built my home. Haha…Anyway! Any objections?��

“It sounds perfect to me.” They grinned.

“Then…what do you want me to do? And your terms?” You swallowed thickly.

“I want you to lay with me.”

“Like…on the deck of the boat? It’s kinda shaky, but the rocking might be ni- oh. Oh.”

Your face flushed immensely as you realized the weight of their words. Osial wants you to lay with them. You pinched yourself, hard, hoping this was some sort of dream. It wasn’t. When you said you’d do anything for your father, you weren’t expecting this. At all. If anything, you were expecting him to give you the current whereabouts of Rex Lapis or at least find a way to break the seal that currently held him (mostly) captive.

“I have needs. And being locked away for centuries upon centuries…” They paused, then leaned in and nipped at your ear. “I’m hungry.”

“I-I-”

Hungry. The word itself held a banal meaning for you, never once being a thing so serious. In that you were lucky, grateful. You were not dense enough to not realize the true meaning of the god’s words. It was the first time someone had spoken of you in this nature. If you were being quite honest, it flustered you. Romance was never a thing on your mind, and you were sure that this had absolutely nothing to do with romance in the first place...but it was always associated with it. You took a deep breath, pulling away from them.

“Listen, uh...?”

“Just Osial is fine.”

“Ok, Just Osial. Look, I'm not sure I can do this. I mean I’ve never done,” You motioned wildly with your hands. “Anything of that nature. Do you...do you even need to do this?”

“No,” They shrugged. “But I want to. Before that nuisance struck me down, life was all pleasure and power. And oh how I’ve missed the pleasure.”

“What about the power?”

“All in due time, my flower. Now, do you accept the contract? I promise I’ll be gentle. I’m sure you’ll be begging for more anyhow.”

They held out their hand, a smirk on their face. Of course this was a stupid idea. There was no working around that. Any doubt that you had consumed your stomach, twisting and turning it upside down filling you with nausea - it had to be pushed down and forgotten. It will be forgotten. This whole incident. It wouldn’t be as bad if you can’t remember? Right? You took their hand gingerly, shaking it once.

With a gentle pull, Osial’s lips found yours almost immediately. They truly wasted no time in rediscovering how it felt to touch a human body. When Osial said life was pleasure and power, they meant it. Practiced hands traveled all along your body, playfully biting at your bottom lip. They reveled in the way that a simple kiss on the soft skin of your neck had drawn out a quiet moan. Osial was skilled in everything they did. Proud with getting an immediate reaction, they bit down on your skin.

“Ah…” You sighed, tilting your neck to give them more room. “Slow…slow down.”

“Hmm? It seems you’re enjoying yourself,” They murmured. “Are you sure you want me to slow down?”

You said nothing and instead closed your eyes. There was something in the way they spoke, a fire igniting in your lower stomach as they left wet trails of kisses down your neck. Osial smirked, knowing exactly what was happening. Of course, as a god, they had full confidence that their skills were enough to get the job done and more. But what’s a little aphrodisiac to get you in the mood? Their hands gripped the edge of your shirt, pulling it over your head. The cool wind nipped at your skin and you involuntarily leaned towards Osial for warmth. They chuckled and kissed down your skin, making sure to leave no inch of you unmarked.

“Os...Osial,” You murmured, your hands weaving through their hair. “What did you do?”

“Oh? Figured it out already? Just wanted to make this a little more fun.”

You didn’t protest. You couldn’t. The aphrodisiac wasted no time, making your body overheat, every touch amplified. Osial's lips found purchase around your nipples, sucking and biting. You mewled softly, arching your back as you pulled him closer. Their hands wrapped around you and he gently laid you down on the deck of the boat. Osial straightened, staring down at your body with greed. Your cheeks were flushed, your eyes watery and glazed over as you squirmed at the sudden absence of touch. Glowing blue tentacles sprouted from Osial’s back. Your eyes widened.

“Don’t look scared now, my flower,” They pulled down your pants and underwear. “I promise I’ll fulfill our contract in no time.”

Four tentacles wrapped themselves around both your arms and legs, spreading you out all for Osial. They leaned forward, kissing you with more passion than the first. It was a sort of distraction as another tentacle curled around your waist to hold you steady. A sticky essence dripped from every tentacle, covering your center in an aphrodisiac lube. Osial slowly thrust their hips forward, entering you slowly. The sensation made you throw your head back with blinding pleasure. Osial let out a low groan as they bottomed out.

“Ah...hahahaha, fuck-” Osial laughed, their voice melting into a moan. “It’s been so long.”

They started to slowly and deeply thrust into you. You could feel everything from their tentacles pulsing around you to the ribbed feeling pumping in and out of you. Osial stretched you out to your limits, moaning as their pace sped up. One of their hands traveled down your torso and you let out another moan as they added another level of pleasure.

“Do you wish to forget me now?” They murmured, their other hand gently caressing your face.

“No, please I-“ Your whines were pathetic but oh so delicious to the god’s ears. “I need more.”

“Oh? But we wouldn’t want to break the contract. Then your beloved Rex Lapis will know. He’ll know that his loyal subject prefers getting violated, filled, pleasured by an enemy of Liyue. Do you want that?”

With every word, you felt the cooling slither of tentacles around your body. Every square inch was covered in Osial’s essence. If anyone had witnessed this, you would be called a heretic, a traitor to Liyue and its history. But fuck that. With every hard thrust inside of you, your body squirming to get closer and closer to them, your mind lost all sense of self. You wanted this. You wanted Osial. You wanted more.

“No, no, I want you,” You whined. “Give me more Osial, please.”

Osial let out a loud and boisterous laugh. With one more thrust, a tentacle joined inside of you. Your mouth opened in a silent scream. You felt full. If it weren’t for the amount of aphrodisiacs flowing through your body, it would have been painful. Instead it felt dull and overwhelming. A knot formed in your stomach as Osial lost all control of their sanity. Being locked away for centuries did terrible wonders on the psyche. Osial wasn’t known for keeping their cool, but in this instance, they would do anything to chase a pleasure that has been taken from them. The two tentacles holding your legs open unwrapped from you. One wrapped around your neck, the other forcing its way into your mouth. You choked around it, your eyes rolling in the back of your head. Osial’s eyes glowed, loving the way you struggled to moan against the tentacle. They tightened their grip around your neck just enough to amplify the pleasure. Your body started to shake.

“Hmm? Are you getting close?” Osial grinned. “Ha...Hold out for just a little longer, dear.”

Your legs were propped up on their shoulders, allowing Osial to hit the very spot that drove you crazy. Their breath stuttered, their thrusts growing sloppy. It took everything in you to hold back the orgasm that was itching to be free. Osial took the tentacle from your mouth. Their hand gripped your face, moving it so you were staring directly at them. They wanted to see how much pleasure they gave you, how your mind was on them and only them.

“Come on then, darling,” They hissed. “Show me how much you love this.”

With a final thrust, both you and Osial reached your climax. You felt them release into both your mouth and down in your core. Osial groaned, pulling out of you and closing their eyes. You spit out all the extra essence and your body went limp. Osial’s tentacles wrapped around you again, pulling you to their chest. Everything was silent save from the panting coming from both of you. The tentacles retracted themselves and Osial held you in their own arms, nuzzling against you.

As you rested, your body and mind were cleared of the fog. Every muscle felt weak and sore, not to mention your throat. Did you regret this? That remains to be seen. You haven’t felt that much pleasure ever. It was overwhelming. You glanced at Osial. They were hugging you tightly as if they didn’t want to let go.It could be written off as post coital bliss, but you actually wanted to stay with them a little longer.

“So…” You sighed. “We did that.”

“We did.”

“Uhm…”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“I refuse to answer.” You pouted.

“Embarrassed, are we?” They bit at your neck. “How about we go one more round then? To make sure that you enjoyed it. I wouldn’t mind hearing my name fall from your lips like a prayer.”

“That’s enough,” You pushed them away and sat up. “Is our contract fulfilled?”

Osial said nothing. If you blinked, you would have missed the disappointment that flashed in their eyes. The waters around you rocked the boat gently, and you scooted closer to them. They must have felt lonely. Being locked away for so long without contact with anyone. If you were naive (more than you are now), you would have felt bad for the god. But you weren’t. And this was a contract, nothing more. Contracts were not meant to be broken. You were in Rex Lapis’s land after all.

“Our contract is fulfilled.” Osial stood. “You should rest now. Taking memories takes a toll. Not as much as our activity just did.”

“Thank you for helping me find my father.”

“If you ever wish to keep me company, my waters are always open to you.”

“Of course, Osial.”

Your voice was sickeningly sweet. It was painful. They wanted to hear their name over and over, feel your body crave them. Fate was cruel, and Morax was even crueler. Had it not been for him, maybe Osial wouldn’t be feeling such pathetic emotions. Jealousy, wanting, possessiveness. It was just one night yet they underestimated how much they would enjoy it. With a wave of their hand, you slowly fell onto your side in a peaceful sleep. Osial dressed you all back up, making sure you were comfortable. Small blue particles that looked like fireflies surrounded your sleeping face. It was done. Osial was nothing more than a terrible tall tale.

•••

“Hey, kiddo, wake up!”

“What the fuck?” You quickly sat up looking around.

“Thank god!!”

You squinted, the bright light of the sun blinding you. Waves crashed against the sand as you took a look around. Sand. Sand? Your hands dug into it, the cool feeling of it slipping through your fingers waking you up. Weren’t you out at sea looking for your father? Father. You gasped and stood, shakily taking a step with your groggy body. You had to find him. You had to go back and find him.

“Woah, woah, hold up! Take a step back, kiddo.”

Kiddo. You finally looked at who was grabbing your shoulders. It was him. It was your father. You let out a sob and hugged him tightly, refusing to let go. He was here and he was alive. You would be damned if you let him out of your sight again. He chuckled softly, his voice cracking as he rubbed your back. You could tell he had gone through a rough journey by the way his hands shook. You pulled away slightly.

“I thought you’d never come back!”

“Here I am,” Father tilted his head. “It’s odd...I don’t really remember going out to sea. Nor do I remember crashing.”

“Really?”

“I found both of you here on the beach,” You turned to see Uncle Tian crossing his arms. “A bunch of trouble, the lot of ya.”

“Thank you, Uncle Tian.” You smiled.

“Thank you? I should’ve never let you go alone! This could have all been avoided.” He huffed.

“Are you telling me my child, the one with the fear of the ocean, went out there all by themself?”

“Of course I did!’ You shook his shoulders. “You disappeared!! I had to find you! Do you know how despondent Mother is? Don’t ever do that again!”

You hugged him again. It was quite a tearful sight. Tian watched with loving eyes. There was nothing like a family being reunited. Something ate at him though. He wasn’t sure if he should bring it up, but curiosity killed the cat. With an awkward cough he stepped forward. You and your father both glanced at him. Tian’s face contorted slightly but then he finally spoke up.

“So, uhh...Do you remember anything? From after you sailed off?”

“Yeah! I remember going pretty far out. It was pretty cold but the water was quiet. Then I saw this...I saw...there was…” You trailed off.

A piercing pain exploded in the middle of your head. You doubled over. How could you not remember? Everything was so clear in your mind up to the point of you stopping in the middle of the ocean. Father wrapped his arm around you. You slowly straightened, your brows furrowed. You had a nagging feeling that you should remember.

“Sorry I-...I must be dehydrated. Why do you ask?”

“You were muttering in your sleep and you have odd bruises all over you. It also looks like you were bound.”

“Muttering?” Your father asked.

“Something about...a contract?” “Must’ve been a weird dream!” You suddenly spoke up, forcing out a laugh. “I do that sometimes...We should go get some rest now, right Father?”

“Right…” He shared a glance with Tian. “We should get going. Thank you for everything, Tian.”

“No problem. You all take care now.”

The two of you walked off, waving goodbye. Your father was relatively unscathed besides a few cuts here and there. You, however, were covered in dark red and purple bruises. Your wrists were red and you felt as if your throat was on fire. Something had happened out there. Flashes of blue painfully crossed through your mind whenever you tried to think about it. Whatever it was, you weren’t supposed to remember.

Father held onto your hand, forcing you out of your stupor. His smile brought you back to Teyvat. Maybe you didn’t have to remember. All that mattered now was that your father was here and alive. Your family was whole again. For now, you could ignore the voice in the back of your mind calling you back to the ocean.

#x reader #fanfic #genshin imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #osial #osial x reader

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stitched-mouth · 11 months ago

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Just For Research

Pairing: Professor! Rick Sanchez x College Student! GN! Reader.

Summary: When Rick discovers his top student is a virgin, he knows he must change that so she can write her paper on human pheromones.

Warnings: Smut, Intercourse (P in ?), Teacher x Student relationship, Age Gap, Virgin! Reader

Writing Time: 30 minutes.

Word Count: 650.

Format: Kinktober Fic, Day 7.

A/N:

Woke up in the middle of the night and decided to just write this. Sorry for any mistakes, this is not proofread. I’m just really trying to make sure everything is written before October arrives so the quality is some fics might be lacking a little, this might be one of them. This is probably my shortest fic so far. Oh well.

I also have completely forgotten what it was like in college. I did about 3 months of Combined Science in the UK before I dropped out for an apprenticeship instead and I don’t remember anything about those 3 months. So this could be all completely wrong but tbh I really don’t care.

I tried really hard to keep it GN, which is getting harder and harder for me due to the lack of gender neutral terms in the English language but I’ll keep managing.

Hope you enjoy, I’ve been eager to write something for Rick for ages now.

Thoughts were swarming your head, making it almost impossible to think about what was currently happening.

‘How did this happen?’ You thought, ‘This couldn’t of been an accident, but how then did it happen?’

You let out a torn scream, but Rick was fast to cover your mouth and silence it.

“Shut up little Whore, or the whole building will hear you.” He huffed.

Just a second ago you and Rick was discussing your college assignment. Your assignment was to write an essay about the human and animal pheromones that tell them to breed and compare the two. Something fairly basic for a Combined Science class and as the class’s top student, Rick expected this assignment to be a breeze for you.

But he had been wrong. For a top student with a bright future in Science, you had no idea about pheromones. Especially the sexual kind. It was the one thing you hadn’t studied yourself in your own time nor had you experienced it.

You had come to Rick after class to hopefully explain the subject better for you or give you good resources to look up but once Rick found out you was a virgin, what you got instead was a private lessons on pheromones that included an experimental or practical that would give you the experience.

So now you were bent over his desk taking all of him like the good little one you was.

“Please…” You whimpered, tired and stretched out to the max. It had only been a few minutes but this was completely new to a virgin.

“Please what, Whore?” Rick glared down at you, still thrusting in and out of you at an ungodly pace.

Rick didn’t think this was exactly the best way to show someone who had never experienced sexual feelings what they were like, but to be honest, he didn’t care. He was just looking for a reason to fuck you. His prettiest most innocent and intelligent little Princess/Prince who always sat in the front row, listening to him with wide ears.

But this had been a good lesson for you. Your sexual desire and need for Professor Sanchez now more than alive, it was insatiable.

“Please more Sir!” You cried.

Rick was a little shocked, but more than happy to oblige. And quickly increased his speed, you looked down and moaned into the once clean desk.

“Yeah? You like this cock? You want more of it, my little cocksleeve?” Rick groaned into your ears.

“Yes!” You nodded eagerly.

Obviously, you came first. You did so with a scream and giant smile. Rick came not too long after you onto your back, with just a few loud grunt.

You was pretty confident now you was gonna Ace this assignment.

#stitched #stitched talks #stitched writes #stitched’s kinktober #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #rick and morty #rick sanchez #rick sanchez smut #college au #gender neutral

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necroromantics · 11 months ago

Text

🧺 — Laundry And Taxes

chapter 7. // (masterlist)

Toby stood frozen on the front step of the familiar quiet blue house. It was late into October, and a small pumpkin laid by his feet at the doorstep. He took a sharp inhale and knocked hard on the front door. Shortly after, the door creaked open to reveal his mother, who took a moment to process who she was looking at. Toby smiled awkwardly at Connie as he stood still, hands tightening onto his backpack straps. His mother quickly pulled her boy into a warm hug, choking back a relieved sob. As she pulled away, her hands cupped his cheeks, with wide eyes. Toby closed his tired eyes for a moment as he breathed in the smell of her perfume, and rested his head in her hands.

“I was worried sick,” Connie whispered.

“I told you I’d come back, mom. No need to be dramatic,” Toby shrugged his shoulders as he entered his childhood home once again, sighing with relief. It was good to be back, as much as he hated to admit it. Connie called out for Lyra, who was doing homework in her room. Toby could hear his sister groan in annoyance from her room as she shuffled down to the livingroom. He quietly chuckled to himself at the sound. He was glad to know she was still around, and safe. As soon as Lyra’s eyes met with Toby’s, her face contorted into an expression of anger, as she stomped up to him and began to whack him over the head.

“Hey! Ah, fuck- Quit it!” Toby yelled out as Lyra continued to smack him.

“Are you out of your fucking mind Toby?!” She shouted as she fought with her brother.

“Jesus, alright! Lay off! I’m sorry,” The boy said through a playful laugh as he grabbed his angry sister's wrists and put a stop to the altercation. He looked at her, and she glared daggers back at him, before the two broke out in smiles. They hugged for a moment, Toby patting Lyra on the back.

“Where did you go? We went to the police but they said they don’t do anything about runaways,” she asked.

“Uh, well. I first went to Alabama, visited Tuscaloosa, then I ended up in Mississippi. But I ran into some issues there… And I just wanted to come back home,” Toby fiddled with his thumbs as his gaze met the floor. Lyra and Connie glanced at each other, shocked to hear about the boy's journey.

“Well, you came back at a good time. I have dinner cooking,” Connie spoke out, clapping her hands together, happy to see her son was safe, and quietly hoping he was going to stay.

“I’m not all that hungry, I’ll be in my room,” Toby said, still averting his gaze from theirs as he turned to head into his old bedroom, brushing them off. He was tired, it had been a long journey walking, hitchhiking, and bussing back home. And he had been through so much since he had left. His family could tell something was bothering him, but they both knew it was best not to pry.

As his overworked body hit the clean, comfortable bed, he sighed out in relief. His bedding was unstained, washed. His room smelt like air freshener and home. The lights were off, the room only being lightened by the evening skies which were quickly darkening. It provided enough light for the boy to make out everything in his room. It was exactly the way it was when he left. He looked up at the ceiling, at the dinosaur-shaped glow in the dark stickers which had faded with time. There was no water damage, no mold. Everything was fine.

Toby thought how funny it was how he had been on the run this entire time, how he couldn’t find a place that he fit into. He had tried to settle down in Alabama, but ended up in Mississippi, and he ran from there as well. It was just like his life as a proxy, never staying in one place for too long. Always running from something. Always the boy who can’t escape.

He had survived so much, he had seen more than the average person would in their entire lifetime. He was alive, as much as he had been on that hill with Jack, and yet he was consumed with misery. From the moment he became branded with the mark of a proxy, he had been shown things, made to understand everything wicked. And here the boy lay, trembling with the sickness and fear of a thousand dying, because he knows. Because he has seen things not meant to be seen. Because he understands.

He felt terrible, ridden with the sense that he had done something unforgivable. And he had. He had slit the throat of mothers, and decapitated fathers. He looked at himself in the reflection of a dying child's eyes, and felt nothing. His hands had been coated with the crimson blood of hundreds — he had committed atrocities. Through it all, Toby had long forgotten how senseless death was. Long forgotten how precious life was. It didn’t matter to him; nothing mattered to him. He had been programmed a long time ago to not care about anyone, or anything. It was the way it had to be. He had no other choice.

Toby laid there quietly, listening to the sound of the clock on his wall tick away mercilessly. The sound nearly drove him mad. He covered his ears, but he couldn’t escape the noise. The hands continued to turn, the gears snapped. The ticking went on for an eternity, it drilled into his ears, crawled into his chest and into his gut. Toby grew irritated, fidgety. Jumping to his feet, he ripped the clock off of his wall, and threw it to the ground with a frustrated yell. He repeatedly battered it with his fist, his anger choking him. The protective glass cut into his hand as he continued to punch into the clock, eventually grabbing the remains and hitting it hard against the floor until it was nothing but broken parts.

The sound alerted his sister, who had been listening from the other side of the wall, in her own room. She slid into his room, flicking on the light, to see her little brother sitting huffing over a shattered clock, his hands cut and bleeding.

“Seriously, what has been going on with you?” She pestered, standing over the furious boy.

“What's up with everyone always on my ass huh? Do I gotta explain myself to you too now?”

“You worried us to death Toby, you owe me an explanation.”

“I don’t owe you shit,” he shouted out, causing Lyra to scoff at his attitude.

“You know, you’re really starting to act like Frank,” she said, storming out of his room. Toby screamed out at her, throwing the broken clock at the door she closed hard behind her.

Toby sat on the floor by his bed, placing his head between his knees, muttering pleas to just let him go back home, to the old world. Back to the world he spent so long getting perfectly adjusted to, the world he had earned his place in. Where he had been braver, stronger. He sniffled to himself, listening as his bedroom door opened once again, not looking up.

Lyra, without saying a word, sat beside her difficult brother. She had a makeshift first aid kit in her hands, as she placed it on her knees, and opened it up. Her soft hands lifted up Toby’s, which he had previously injured on the glass he shattered, and began to treat his wounds. In a sore apology, he stayed silent as he let her patch him up. He felt the warmth of her hand as she squeezed his.

“You’re supposed to be dead, Lyra. I watched you die,” Toby spoke quietly, sadness seeping from the cracks in his voice.

“You know how many times I thought dad was going to go too far one day and kill you?” She said as she continued to work at her little brother's cuts, “I was 16 years old, just preparing myself to attend your funeral some day.”

Toby raised his head, and stared at her as she continued.

“I don’t know what you’re dealing with, that's your issue,” she held his hand in hers, “Just do us both a favor and take care of yourself, okay?”

Finished with her work, she stood up, and turned to make her leave.

“Lyra, I've killed people,” Toby blurted out, causing the girl to stop in her tracks, and slowly turn back around to face her brother.

“It started with dad, and then I would just- Just wake up in abandoned cabins or a forest with blood all over, and my hatchets. I would kill families, junkies, maybe other criminals. I’ve killed so many people, Lyra, there's so much blood on my hands and no matter how hard I scrub, it won't come off, and I’m just a kid. I’m just a kid and I’ve seen and done things no kid should, Lyra. I don’t- I don’t know what to do.”

He rambled, confessed so quickly he barely had time to catch his breath through the words he spoke. Lyra stood still for a moment, before kneeling in front of him. She ruffled his hair and smiled worriedly.

“For moms sake, put a reign on your imagination,” She said, before leaving, closing the door behind her.

Toby sat silent on the floor, his bandaged hands picking at the carpet under him. His face was young: a pale complexion marked with sunspots and moles. But his eyes had bore witness to things no seventeen year old boy should see. He was knowledgeable about all things terrible, and the horrors he had committed had taken over him. It was all he was, and his crimes too, had been taken from him. There was no murder here, no bloodshed. A ruthless killer, now only a boy. He held on tightly, so desperately, to his past, that pieces of it remained under his nails as he clawed. It lingered, like having one foot in the door, too afraid to let it close. Toby remained sitting beside his bed, letting the darkness of the approaching night overtake the last bit of light dancing on the roof of his room. He choked back a suffocating desperation.

Back in the old world, there was a quiet sense of understanding amongst him and the others around him. There was a twisted sense of brotherhood, like soldiers in war, or hounds from the same junkyard. From the moment Toby had awoken in the strange new world that surrounded him, he had been alone. Nobody in the boy's life could begin to understand, and it seemed as though anger was the only one that stuck around. It nipped at him, sinking its teeth into his throat until it drew blood. Toby had then made the wretched decision that he didn't need anybody else, and that it was him against the world. He needed to be tougher, better, stronger. He needed to be so terrifying that nobody would dare mess with him. He needed, desperately, to get back any sense of power he had left behind in the old world.

He leaned back, tilting his head up to face the ceiling, and squeezing his tired eyes shut. Exhaustion ran through him, the gravity dragging him down, but he couldn't stop yet. Toby opened his eyes to look up at the stickers plastered on the roof. The same stickers he would look up at as a young boy. They called out to him, burned holes into his mind.

‘You’ve seen this all before,’ they called out.

‘You’re getting weak,’ they beckoned.

‘Look at what you've become.’

Toby’s breathing became heavy as the weight pulling him down began to suffocate him. The world was spinning around him, and he felt as though he were falling straight into an abyss that swallowed him whole. He told himself to get over it, to stop being so sensitive, and he beat down any humanity left within him. Violence wasn't his second nature, it was his first. From the moment he clawed his way out of his mothers womb, that boy was made to fight. Toby was built from metal and kerosene. Everybody in his life watched mortified as he left behind nothing but char everywhere he went.

It was written from the start. He fought against his creator, his father. He fought against his savior, The Slenderman. He fought against himself. There wasn't a moment in time where he considered anything but war, and maybe that's what did it. Toby had heard time and time again that his stubbornness was going to get him killed someday. Sitting on the floor, back in his childhood home, he had quietly hoped that he would be put down like a dog soon. Despite his rage, he knew there was no escaping who he was. That boy was built to hurt others, trained to come out on top by any means necessary. The perfect weapon.

Throughout the next week, Toby kept to himself, rarely leaving his room. He didn't want to see his family, or eat, or go outside. God had turned a blind eye to his sin, but also his suffering. Toby knew that he could not be saved like Jack, or effortlessly move on like Tim and Brian. He found solace under his covers, rotting away in his bed. He was supposed to be dead. The boy knew he had overstayed his welcome, and it was finally catching up to him. Jack’s words filled his head. There was nothing more anybody could do to help the lost cause of a boy, who decided to tough out his retribution alone in isolation. That way, nobody could see how small he had become. Nobody could see that the perfect weapon had begun to rust and crack.

There was a soft knock on his bedroom door, before it creaked open. Toby laid still hidden under his blanket, facing the wall, and pretended to still be asleep so that the familial intruder would quickly make their leave. To his dismay, his sister spoke out.

“Hey weirdo, I was going to go to a pumpkin patch with some friends tonight, but they ditched out on me.”

Toby squeezed his eyes tight and remained still, dreading her next question.

“Do you want to come with me instead? It’d mean a lot.”

The boy cussed silently to himself at his sister's request; ‘it’d mean a lot’ circling in his brain. Giving no reply, he continued to lay silently.

“Just think about it, okay?” Lyra said, taking her leave and closing his door.

Back in his lonesome, Toby tossed the covers off of himself and sat up, looking out of his bedroom window. The trees were painted a collage of oranges and yellows, like a raging fire dripping from the reaching branches. The sun was shining down, as it always had. Leaves had begun to rot, and fell gently down onto the ground, creating piles across the backyard. He stared out at the scenery for a moment; the daring boy kept fire in his eyes. He thought back to his sister's request, and let out a melancholic sigh. That cruel autumn, in the season of no war, Toby wanted nothing but to be left alone. He watched as an old crow perched itself atop a shaking branch. Everything was in motion there, in the land of the living. Toby kept one foot in a grave, he knew he should be dead, he knew his insides were nothing but rot and maggots burrowed inside his head.

Suddenly, there was a loud thump at his window as a small bird flew into it. Toby snapped out of his own dreadful thoughts, and jumped, his heart racing, and hand at his side to retrieve the hatchet that wasn’t there. He leaned forward to peer out at the ground below him, and watched as the bird laid there, twitching in pain. Quickly, the boy jumped out of bed and still in his pajamas, rushed out of the backdoor and into his yard. He stood silently over the bird, which had broken its wing. Toby knelt down over it, and watched quietly for a moment. He thought that there was no use trying to save it — he wasn’t a martyr. His clean hand reached for the tiny bird who was half-alive, and his fingers wrapped around its neck. Toby swallowed as he tightened his grip, squeezing as hard as he could until he crushed its trachea.

“What are you doing?”

Toby quickly dropped the bird, which had now succumbed to its death, and snapped his head over to the alarmed voice. His mother stood a few feet away, her eyes wide and mortified.

“Nothing mom, it was dead when I found it. I- I was just cleaning it up,” Toby brought himself to his feet and averted his gaze from Connies, as he rushed inside.

The boy leaned over the bathroom sink, avoiding his reflection in the mirror, as he scrubbed ruthlessly at his hands. The stench of death never left him, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get rid of the blood which stained every crack and crevice on his merciless fingers. It seemed as though he was losing his mind once again. No matter who preached hope and forgiveness to him, no matter the forgiveness he sought, Toby knew that he would find himself there, in the backyard of his childhood home, wringing the life out of a helpless little bird, again and again. And he didn’t know how to stop.

After taking a moment to collect himself, Toby walked into the living room, to steal a glance at his sister who was watching a Halloween movie on TV. Her earlier request to go to the pumpkin patch once again overtook his thoughts. At the very least, it was an excuse to get out of the house. Toby didn’t want to look his mother in the eyes after what had happened. He couldn’t stomach telling her what he had become; though out of that house, it was something he took pride in, almost as if it were a badge of honor or strength.

“Lyra, are you still up to go to that pumpkin patch?”

Toby looked over at his sister in the driver's seat. He hadn’t listened to a single word she was saying, though she smiled when she talked. His stomach was tied in knots. The entire car ride, Toby was waiting for something to happen, up until the moment they reached their destination.

It was a chilly evening, and the skies had only begun to darken, still offering a fair amount of daylight. Out in the country, there was a crowd of people who had taken the time off to buy pumpkins, climb hay bales, and explore the haunted corn maze. There were stray children running around and laughing, teenage couples arguing over who had lost who in the maze. It had been awhile since Toby was around this many people. He felt entirely out of place. Though nobody knew the boy, Toby felt as if they had all come to the conclusion that he was fundamentally different from them. Something feral, dangerous. And he was. He thought to himself that it was in their best interest to avoid him like he were a diseased mutt anyways — for their own sake.

Lyra made her way past the people, and Toby followed beside her. She walked over to the large variety of pumpkins which had been laid out for purchase, and began examining them.

“Should we do pumpkin carving this year?” She said, raising an eyebrow at her brother. Toby shrugged. Lyra put the pumpkin down, and looked around for a moment, before heading for the hayride, which was boarding groups of people. The two rushed over as Lyra called out for Toby to hurry, before there was no room left. They hopped on to the back, squishing their way in, and took a seat. Struck with the cold air of late October, Lyra’s cheeks were flushed red.

Toby held his hands in his lap as he sat silently, looking out at the countryside scenery around them as the horses began to pull the wagon. As they rode past the corn maze, Lyra nudged at her brother who was sitting across from her.

“We’re doing that next.”

The family which sat next to the siblings talked amongst themselves, planning with the children which costumes they’d choose for trick’or’treating. As children, Toby would stay indoors on Halloween night, while Lyra would go out with friends. He would eat all of the candy she didn’t like. Toby glanced up at his sister, who was beaming at the horses as they walked along the wooded path. She had always liked animals. The boy wondered how she would react if she knew what he had done.

A light breeze rolled past them, gathering golden leaves which had been loosely hanging from branches. One of the leaves had gotten itself caught in Lyra’s hair, which she hadn’t noticed. Toby smiled to himself as he held back a snicker. He leaned forward and picked the leaf off of her, which gained him a strange look from his sister, to which he responded by flicking the leaf at her.

Once the ride had come to a stop, the evening skies had quickly turned pitch black. The area was lit by lanterns and yard lights which illuminated the patch with a warm glow. Lyra yanked her brother's arm, dragging him over to the maze with an excited look in her eyes. As they stood on the edge of the entrance, Lyra turned to face him.

“Alright, stay close. I don't want you getting lost,” she teased. Toby rolled his eyes with a smile as he walked close behind his sister. The two adventured into the dark labyrinth, Toby made a mental note of his surroundings. He had never been good with directions as a boy, always stuck confined to his home, but as a proxy he learnt quickly how to find his way around the forest he resided in. It proved useful as he watched Lyra make wrong turns, circling back to where they came from.

“We were already here,” Toby groaned. They were lost, and Lyra was too stubborn to listen to her little brother's direction.

“Okay, well, we’ll go this way then,” She argued back. Toby sighed to himself as she confidently walked down a path he knew they had already been down.

He could hear other groups of people talking amongst themselves from other sides of the corn walls; though he couldn’t see well through the darkness of the night, he knew how to utilize his other senses. Toby continued to walk behind Lyra as he tuned in to a passing conversation. Somebody had mentioned something about a faceless man. At least, that's what Toby had heard. In all likelihood, they had said something entirely different. But the possibility was enough to make the boy feel dizzy, sick — as if the eldritch parasite had followed him out into that maze. He kept his eyes to his feet as he walked, focusing on every sound, every breath he took. The world felt like it was spinning, his heartbeat quickened until it was beating like a snare drum in his chest. Toby’s breathing got shallow as he stopped in his tracks and looked up. Lyra wasn’t in front of him anymore. She wasn’t anywhere, and he couldn’t hear any more passerby conversations. He was completely alone in the twilight depths of the maze, and he didn’t know where he was.

Toby turned around, trying to pinpoint his location.

“Lyra?”

He stared out into the black abyss in front of him, wondering if the tall, faceless abomination would suddenly appear. Toby squeezed his hands tightly, his knuckles turning white. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath as dread overtook him. He almost felt as sick as he did back in Alabama. And nobody was coming to save him. The boy gritted his teeth and shook his head, heading back down the way he assumed he came from. It was only a minute of aimless wandering before he heard the sound of people chatting and laughing together. Toby continued towards the direction of the voices, until he saw the figures walking ahead of him. They seemed to have just entered the maze, which means the entrance was close by. Toby eyed his surroundings for a moment, still unable to figure out where he was.

He awkwardly followed behind the group, fighting with himself to ask for the directions they came. For years, he had been taught that if he couldn’t figure it out on his own, then he was better off letting himself die. And then, for a moment, he thought back to that fishing trip with Tim, and the nights spent on the porch of the cabin in Mississippi with Jack. Toby swallowed his pride for the first time in a long time, and caught up to the people in front of him.

“Uh- hey. I uh, I was just wondering which direction you guys came from. I lost my sister and-” Toby stumbled over his words, half preparing himself for a fight.

“Oh! We came from that way,” a girl spoke, pointing behind him, “and if you go left you should find the entrance.”

He looked at the girl for a moment, before awkwardly thanking her.

“No worries at all, I hope you find your sister!”

Toby exhaled heavily, having held his breath, as he made his way down the path the helpful girl had pointed out for him. Soon enough, he saw the lights from the pumpkin patch peer out from over the tall corn stalks, and found himself at the entrance. As he stepped out into the casual assembly of people enjoying themselves, he looked around for any sign of his sister. His eyes darted around, before landing on a terrible, horrifying, sickening sight. Toby couldn’t believe it. He nearly felt like throwing up.

The boy bitterly walked up to Lyra, who was standing by the exit of the maze, talking to a guy who was clearly flirting with her. Toby glared daggers at the man who appeared to be a few years older than him as he approached his sister's side. Lyra broke away from the conversation she was having as she turned to her brother.

“Oh, there you are. Did you get lost or something?” Lyra asked.

“Yeah,” Toby grumbled, still eyeing the man who was now standing around awkwardly.

“So this is your brother?”

“Mhm, we got separated in the maze, I guess,” Lyra put her hand on her brother's head, which the boy swatted off.

“Who’re you?” Toby said, his brow creasing as he spoke words of violence which matched his dark, glaring eyes. He had always looked out for his sister when they were young. Toby had spent so long trained to protect his family against his father, it had leaked out into his thoughts of the world as well. With everything he had witnessed as a proxy, he knew better than to let anyone get too close.

“Mark,” he said, sticking out his hand. Toby looked down at Mark’s hand with a hint of disgust, and then over to his sister who was smiling uncomfortably.

“Oookay then. Well, I gotta get going. It was nice meeting you,” Mark said, pulling his unshaken hand back in, and heading off with a wave at Lyra, which she returned before turning around to smack her brother over the head.

“What the hell was that?” She whispered angrily.

“Nothing, let’s just go home,” Toby shoved his hands into his jacket pocket as he left for the parking lot.

The ride home was quiet as they drove down the desolate country roads. Toby looked out the passenger window, staring into the night which enveloped the distant forest. The silence was suffocating. He didn’t know if Lyra was mad at him or not; he didn’t really care either way. Lyra, frustrated at the stiff atmosphere bubbling in the car as she drove, turned on the radio. Toby fussed to himself as he was made to listen to boy bands and overplayed pop music, and sank into his seat, pressing his head up against the window he continued to stare out of. He didn’t care for Lady Gaga or Pitbull; he didn’t want to listen to Black Eyed Peas. It was the type of music his sister would always blast on her boombox stereo when her friends were around. He listened as she quietly muttered along to the lyrics of the song and watched her reflection in the window as she nodded her head along to the beat. The last time they had a moment like this, it ended with her dead, and him with blood on his hands. Toby stayed silent as he tried to fight against his motion sickness.

Lyra looked over to her brother who looked as if he had too much on his mind and reached over to turn the music up. She matched the volume as she sang out alongside the singer, stealing glances at Toby who sighed with annoyance, nudging him to join along. Toby tried his best to ignore his sister's pestering; he wasn’t in the mood for this. As his luck would have it, his rejection only strengthened her resolve as she cranked the music louder, and sang louder to match.

Toby sat himself up straight from his slouching position and looked over at his sister who was dancing along to the song as she drove. She nudged him again as Ke$ha came on.

“Come on! You can’t not sing Kesha with me,” Lyra pushed, speaking loudly over the blaring music. Shaking his head at her wild demands, Toby gave in and shyly started to mouth the lyrics, which Lyra responded with a beaming smile as she continued to sing out. As the chorus chimed in, Toby began to sing along too, and nod his head along to the beat. He tried his best to fight against the smile creeping up on his face, but couldn’t help singing alongside Lyra as the pair shouted out together. The whole world stopped for those two as they drove down the city streets, harmonizing horribly to the boy bands and overplayed pop music.

The two siblings laughed together as they entered the quiet house, throwing off their shoes.

“Thanks for coming with me tonight, dork. It's good having you back home,” Lyra said as she patted Toby’s back and left for her bedroom. The boy smiled to himself. For once, he had a good day.

#tombwrites #tombfic #creepypasta #ticci toby #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta headcanon #ticci toby headcanons #toby rogers #creepypasta ticci toby #creepypasta fanfiction #creepypasta fanfic #ticci toby fanfiction #ticci toby fanfic #lyra rogers

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justinspoliticalcorner · 2 months ago

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Kevin Robillard at HuffPost:

In June 2015, former President Donald Trump infamously came down a golden escalator and declared himself the man who couldn’t be bought. “I’m using my own money,” Trump said in the opening speech of his presidential election campaign. “I’m not using the lobbyists. I’m not using donors. I don’t care. I’m really rich.” Trump, who did self-fund large portions of his 2016 primary campaign, would return to this theme again and again. He would run against a field of more mainstream GOP politicians, each backed by super PACs filled with million-dollar checks from wealthy donors, and then against Democrat Hillary Clinton, who many voters saw as the embodiment of a moneyed class of Washington insiders. Now, almost a decade later, he is running as a candidate who is openly for sale. He has said he’ll offer plum jobs to major donors like Elon Musk, promised favors to oil executives, bragged to the wealthy about the tax cuts he can deliver and has even taken time away from his campaign to pitch a cryptocurrency project for his sons.

Americans can even buy DJT on the stock market, in the form of shares in the publicly traded holding company that owns his social media site, Truth Social. That company’s revenues are meager, with the share price hitting all-time lows, but it’s still being propped up by the former president’s loyal political fandom. “He just thinks he operates in his own world,” Fred Wertheimer, a veteran of decades of fights over campaign finance and government ethics, told HuffPost. “What he’s doing is incredibly brazen in both asking for large amounts of money and telling people what he’s going to do for them in return.” “Bottom line, I’ve never seen anyone do what he’s doing,” Wertheimer said. Trump’s campaign did not respond to an email seeking comment for this story. His new strategy may have created an opening for Democrats, if Vice President Kamala Harris and her campaign can seize it.

[...] Trump’s image as an outsider/businessman, unafraid to upset political apple carts, powered his run through the 2016 GOP primaries. He took special aim at former Florida Gov. Jeb Bush, the beneficiary of the outside group Right to Rise, which had stunned observers with its explosive fundraising. “They will be bombarded by their lobbyists that donated a lot of money to them,” Trump told a crowd in Iowa of his primary rivals, not long after his campaign’s launch. “Jeb raised $107 million, OK? They’re not putting that money up because it’s a wonderful charity.” Standing on a debate stage in Boulder, Colorado, that October, Trump decried how super PACs were corrupting his fellow candidates. “Super PACs are a disaster,” he said. “They’re a scam. They cause dishonesty. And you better get rid of them because they are causing a lot of bad decisions to be made by some very good people.”

Republicans who worked on the campaigns against Trump remember the message as particularly devastating, if not especially novel. Alex Conant, who was then the communications director for the presidential campaign of Sen. Marco Rubio (R-Fla.), noted plenty of candidates had tried to run as outsiders taking on the establishment before, but said the tactic was far more effective for a New York real estate developer. “That was his most salient message in 2016,” Conant said. “He was a uniquely good messenger for it, because he was such an outsider, and it also kind of excused all the unconventional stuff — attacking John McCain, attacking Republican Party leaders. A more typical politician, if they were doing that, you would think they were idiots. For him, it was part of what made him so authentic.” In the general election, Trump relied more on outside groups and traditional fundraising than he did during the primary campaign. But as he took on a rival from a second political dynasty ― Democratic nominee Hilary Clinton, who was battling scandals about her email account and a trio of paid speeches she delivered to Goldman Sachs — he still ran as an insurgent.

[...]

‘Always Will Be A Con Man’

Despite his rhetoric, Trump did little to “drain the swamp” upon taking office. He failed to follow through on a promise to divest his business holdings. His hotel quickly became a gathering spot where those hoping to win Trump’s favor could also line his pockets. He appointed lobbyists to key government positions overseeing defense, trade and environmental protection. He took in up to $160 million from international business deals while he was president. “He has and always will be a con man who’s really only looking out for himself and whatever helps him to obtain power,” said Tiffany Muller, the president of the Democratic campaign finance group End Citizens United. “All his promises went out the window. Instead of draining the swamp, he brought the swamp to him and his properties and cashed in.”

Donald Trump and his supporters have long pushed the baseless refrain that “he can’t be bought.”

Well, I have some news that the MAGAdonians don’t like: Trump didn’t drain the swamp but expanded the swamp and has been bought by Super PACs to fulfill their agendas.

#Donald Trump #2024 Presidential Election #2024 Elections #Super PACs #Hillary Clinton #Jeb Bush #Marco Rubio #2016 Presidential Election #2016 Elections

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coquettexnightz · 1 year ago

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| Stalker Season |

- 18+ Content, Somnophilia -

—

Norman had seen her around their small town she had just moved into with her black cat. He had seen her cat roaming around town and picked it up, bringing it back to her small house. Then, she asked how he knew where she lived, to which he replied, “It’s a small town, we always know when people move in and move out of each house. Weird, I know.” Then, they bid their goodbyes and never spoke again.

A month later, Y/n began to get the feeling of being watched. It was now October 30th and she had spent most of her day outside, finishing up her Halloween decorations for her most favorite holiday of the year. It was pitch black when she placed her Jack-O-Lantern onto her porch, her Blake cat rubbing its body against it.

Norman had been watching…and just as Y/n turned her back and bent over to pet her cat, Norman came out from behind the bushes and made quick strides toward her. He had to be quick if he wanted to accomplish what he had been planning since he saw the U-haul trucks in her driveway.

When Norman was so, very close— Y/n swiftly but gently picked up her nimble cat and walked into the house, shutting the door and locking it. Norman cursed to himself, clenching his jaw and walking back to his spot, sitting back down on the thin blanket he had set up hours before.

Not too long after, Y/n put in Halloween, 1978 and began watching it in her living room with her cat beside her. Norman wished he was there as he watched her through the window, not even bothering to hide himself from her line of sight.

Long after the horror movie was finished and Y/n had gone to bed, Norman deciding he couldn’t wait any longer. He crept into her house through the hole in the wall inside the laundry room that the realtors hadn’t informed her of. He avoided her unlucky black cat at all costs, very superstitious of that type of stuff.

Once he entered her room, he quietly sighed, his eyes half way closed in pleasure. There she was, in a large white shirt, laying above her blankets. Her window was open a crack, in order for her cat to come and go. As Norman crept closer, he could tell that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Due to the very thin, white Hanes T-shirt, despite its large size.

Norman already knew she was a deep sleeper, he’d have some real fun with her, that’s for sure. He never wanted a girl more than he wanted Y/n, and now? Now, he had her right where he wanted her, nice, tired, and vulnerable. Ready for the taking.

“You sweet girl, how did you not notice?” He whispered to himself, brushing her soft hair out of her face that was pushed against the baby blue pillowcase.

Norman placed one knee on her bed and leaned over her, trying his best to slowly flip her over onto her back. Once he succeeded, he slid his hand into his pocket and grabbed his switchblade. He brought it to her neck and slid it down a couple of inches, pressing it to the collar of her shirt. He pressed down and managed to poke a hole through the cheap material. He closed the switchblade and stuck it back into his back pocket.

He stuck a couple fingers into the hole of her shirt and gripped the edges, slowly ripping the shirt apart for the easiest access possible. He then maneuvered his hands to be under her back, slowly pulling her body up, causing her head to hang back, arching her neck and opening her lips slightly.

They were now practically hugging, Y/n sound asleep and almost completely naked as Norman stuck his head into the crook of her neck and smelt her dry but freshly washed hair. “I knew you smelt good.” He smirked, placing the smallest kiss onto her limp neck.

He laid her back down and lifted her butt, hooking his pointer fingers into her panties and dragging them down her body. He stuffed them into his back pocket for later and wasted no time hovering over her.

He didn’t bother to take off any clothing, simply unzipping the fly of his jeans after unbuttoning then and pulling his pale cock out of his jeans. He hadn’t work any underwear today, just for the easy access.

“My oblivious little girl.” He hummed as quiet as a mouse, leaning down to kiss the valley of her breasts. She giggled in her sleep, sensitive in that particular spot. Norman pulled back in content, running his hands down her warm arms.

Norman was a virgin, yes. Everyone in town had always thought he was scary, so in result, no girls came his way. But now, this girl knew nothing bad about him and he had the perfect chance.

Y/n yelped in pain, as if she was still stuck in a painful nightmare, she did not awake. Norman moaned quietly and pulled out almost all the way before slowly pushing back into her wet pussy. He had no idea why it was so wet, but he loved it. MTV hadn’t covered this at all, he thought to himself as his eyes clouded with pleasure. Y/n whimpered, her eyes shut softly as she bit her lip unconsciously.

But after only thirty seconds, Norman didn’t know that he would shoot his cum deep into her cervix almost right away. Y/n’s head shooting up and eyes immediately tearing up. “Norman!” She yelled at him, staring up in horror. She thought he was a sweet, quiet guy, not a creep!

In most cases, she’d be lucky for him to cum so quick. But Norman had been pent up for so long that cumming once didn’t help his hard on whatsoever. Her cries egged him on even more, making him harder than he had been before he came.

Norman began to speed up, holding her down in a desperate plead for her to submit to him. “Stop, please.” Norman frowned childishly, pushing her hip down into the bed. Even though he wasn’t the one who had the right to beg for a cease of an action.

Y/n had found Norman cute from the get-go, but didn’t expect for him to break into her house and try to rape her. She was even angrier at herself for becoming extremely wet, especially during the whole thing. It felt so good but so wrong at the same time. “Norman! Not like this, no!” She cried, scratching his chest with her long nails.

Norman moaned, his thrusts uncoordinated due to his very recent loss of Virginity. For Y/n it felt good either way and she knew she’d cum, no matter how hard she tried to hold it in for her own sanity. The loud squelching noises of her tight hole embarrassed her completely, causing her to clamp her eyes shut and look away from Norman who was like a dog in heat.

“Don’t cry, I love you.” Norman pressured her, thinking he could help. He didn’t understand why she told him no. She smiled at him when they met, he thought she liked him. Norman leaned down and kissed her tears, then pressing a kiss to her overheated forehead.

Without thinking, he placed the palm of his hand on her abdomen and pressed down. Emitting an extremely loud cry of pleasure from Y/n’s throat, “Norman!” She has now given in, tears still actively flowing from her eyes, but her body had stilled. With the exception of her hips, rutting up to meet his which were roughly slamming into her. Either way, Y/n still felt very ashamed of herself.

Norman was so inexperienced, rutting into Y/n quicker than before. His cum leaking onto his balls and spreading all over Y/n’s plush thighs. He knew he’d cum again and didn’t intend on pulling out, he didn’t know he’d get her pregnant. Even if he did, he wouldn’t care as he slammed his cock into her. Humping desperately to find a release.

Y/n had came, her tears beginning to dry and her body completely tired out. Blood from Normans cut up chest leaked onto her breasts as her eyes fluttered shut. Norman slammed into her one more time, pulling her up into a hug and cumming as deep into her as he could. “Thank you, Y/n. Thank you.” He mumbled into her neck, placing numerous kisses as he very slowly continued to pump his thick cum into her.

“Mhm.” She hummed tiredly, her arms and body limp, head rested on his shoulder.

#fanfiction #norman reedus #90s #smut #kinktober #norman reedus x reader #somno breeding #stalker #kinktober 2023 #dark fantasy

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separatist-apologist · 4 months ago

Text

Long Live

Summary: All archeologist Elain Archeron wants is answers about the past.

Fate is determined to give them to her

MASSIVE thank you @abbadinfluence for having the idea AND allowing me to write - I've had the time of my life, this has been so fun.

And @octobers-veryown for being my personal Rome/Italy consultant- thank you for your knowledge, your time, and most importantly, catching when I used a particularly offensive and/or wrong swear word

For @elucienweekofficial | Read on AO3 | Chapter 1

Elain waited until she and Arina were alone to turn to her friend. Arina was one step ahead of her. “We’re fucked,” she said in English, face devoid of any true color. “He’s basically got us under house arrest.”

“They don’t trust us,” Elain said, taking an anxious breath of air. The last three days had been something out of a nightmare. They’d been arrested, put in chains, and then transported from the country estate to Rome, during which they’d been groped and threatened with assault more times than she could count. Elain had never known true fear until that first night outdoors, camping with a group of leering, bored soldiers.

She couldn’t enjoy seeing Rome, well aware of where they were being taken. Mamertine Prison was a church in the present day, built over the bones of prisoners sent to languish while they waited out their sentences. Elain had expected some low level judiciary to come and decide their fate. Not the newly crowned Emperor himself, accompanied by his older brother. Nor had she expected Arina to react so viciously once they were so close to freedom.

“We simply have to convince them they can trust us.”

“And how do you intend to go about that?” Arina demanded, picking through the clothes set out for the two of them. They knew enough combined history to get through this, she decided. If they could convince the Emperor they were no threat, Elain believed they could make their way back where they’d started and get back to their own home before they changed history.

“Well, for starters maybe we should stop biting patricians?” Elain said, rounding on her friend sharply.

“He’s no better than the soldiers who dragged us up here,” she snarled furiously. “He saw two unprotected women and decided we must exist for his pleasure.”

“Of course he did!” Elain hissed softly. “They’ve never even heard the word feminism. You know women are not on equal standing with men. Stop biting them.”

“If he puts his finger in my face again—”

“No biting.”

Elain turned, looking at the spacious room that belonged to her and her alone. Arina had been given a suite just down the marbled hall but had immediately followed after Elain, prompting two servants to lay clothes out for the both of them nervously. Elain knew what was waiting and was desperate to put her hands on true, Roman garments.

“Why aren’t you panicking?” Arina demanded.

“What good would it do to panic?” Elain asked, tennis shoes squeaking against the marble. The heat coming from the nearby hanging lamps made the room feel warmer than was comfortable, and Elain was quick to fling open the shutters of her window so cool air could push in. “Besides…haven’t you always wanted to see Rome as it actually was?”

“Not really,” Arina said, trailing after Elain apprehensively. “Not like this. What if we can’t get back, Elain? Or worse, what if the Emperor decides to make us some other man's problem?”

“This is Rome. We’ll simply kill him if he tries,” Elain said with far more bravado than she felt. Her room overlooked the garden, replete with beautifully manicured hedges, rows of olive trees, and flowers so vibrant she almost didn’t believe they were real.

“Elain, I’m serious. Aren’t you afraid?”

“Yes,” she admitted, turning back to the room made of marble and gold. Elain knew if Arina wasn’t so scared, she’d be examining the pillars and telling Elain all about the brush strokes and how the tiles beneath them had been cut. Elain, too, wanted to examine the palace piece by piece, committing it all to memory. Her phone was still in her pocket, the battery at seventy two percent. She could take pictures if she was careful…and then, what? No one would ever believe her.

Maybe just to have once she got home.

“We need to leave,” Arina hissed, her urgency echoing through Elain’s skull.

“What we need is to be careful. We were spared once, but I don’t think they’ll be so forgiving the second time. Better to play pretend and wait for our moment than to rush out and get thrown back into prison. Or worse.

Citizens were made slaves all the time, after all. Lucien could make them prostitutes in the eye of the law if he wanted and no one would be able to stop him. Here, at least, they had access to means and the privilege that came from being a patrician woman.

“He could do horrible things to us,” Arina reminded Elain, standing in the middle of the room with her arms wrapped around her chest. “Things he might think are kind.”

“Then we simply have to convince him not to,” Elain replied, thinking it was easier said than done. “Women might not be allowed a true voice, but there are plenty of Roman women who ruled behind the throne. If we can make him care about us, we can thwart the worst of his machinations. He’s a new Emperor, he’s about to meet his wife…he won’t have a lot of time to spend worrying about us.”

“You’re right,” Arina breathed, closing her eyes before exhaling slowly. “If we blend in and give them no reason to think about us, we can slip out in the night.”

“Or better, he’ll put us on a horse with gold in our pocket.”

“So what now? We just…play dress up?” Arina questioned, finally turning toward the stola. “Drink wine and lounge in the sun?”

“We could explore the city?” Elain suggested, reaching for the red dyed garment. “Tell me, doctor. Where do you think the fabric of this dress comes from?”

“Egypt,” Arina said, rubbing her fingers against the lenin. “It’s not silk.”

“If we could bring this back—intact—think of—”

“Are you crazy?” Arina hissed, cutting Elain off before she could finish her sentence. “We can do nothing. Make no suggestions, inform them of nothing, do not rip any wings off a butterfly. We aren’t supposed to be here, Elain, and we can’t go around meddling.”

“It’s not meddling. It’s history,” she protested. “And if we’re not supposed to be here, why are we here?”

“Maybe we’re not. Maybe we just ingested something toxic, breathed in too much lead. We’re probably in the hospital having a really vivid hallucination.”

Elain sat on the edge of the bed, sinking into the feathers and straw with delight. Covered in blankets, the mattress was softer than she might have imagined. “This isn’t a hallucination. It’s real.”

She’d thought the same thing when they’d first come through. Elain didn’t believe it anymore, though. They’d been gone for three days and some of her panic was beginning to subside into excitement. They were in Rome at the height of its power and living with the current emperor. Elain knew, from having memorized Lucien’s journals, that he would be meeting Helena soon if he hadn’t met her already.

She didn’t need to meddle—she could merely watch, go home, and reconstruct what she knew. If she could just find out what family Helena belonged to, Elain was certain she’d could piece together whatever tragic fate the empress met.

Like he so often did, Graysen’s face wormed its way into her memories, flooding her with guilt. She needed to get back—where was her urgency? Arina certainly had it, pacing the room like a caged animal. She’d become wilder by the day, viciously spitting curses at the Roman soldiers who’d dragged them to the prison cell, and again when Eris had tried to touch her.

She was afraid in a way Elain simply wasn’t. She ought to be—oh, how Elain knew she should be scared. They were at the mercy of a time period that valued women even less than the one she’d just left, under the care of a man who didn’t know them at all. They had no one to vouch for them, no refuge in which they could seek shelter in. No one to advocate on their behalf. If they angered the Emperor, he could have them exiled or worse.

And yet…Elain simply wasn’t worried about any of it. She believed they’d be fine, that Lucien would continue to be hospitable, and they’d make their way back no worse than they’d come through. If she was honest with herself, Elain felt a small measure of relief. She didn’t have to make a decision about her own life so long as she was here.

Sure, Graysen would move on eventually, but Elain didn’t intend to be gone for years. Maybe just a month—long enough to have one last, grand adventure. Maybe living in Rome would put some things into perspective for her, besides. Help her make a decision on her own life and relationship.

What did it say about her that she didn’t miss him?

Nothing good.

“Bath?”

Arina threw her hands up in the air with exasperation. “You’re not taking our situation seriously.”

“I am. I’m just realistic. We can’t go anywhere and I don’t want to sit in a bedroom all day. Don’t you want to see how they lived?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“The pipes here are made of lead, Elain. Lead. You’ll be drinking lead tainted water—”

“We’ve been drinking it for the last three days and I feel fine,” she replied, though it did worry her a little. “And we can drink more wine than water, if you’re really that concerned.”

“You want to bathe in lead tainted water?” Arina demanded.

Elain whirled on her friend, her frustration mounting. “There is no deodorant here and I smell like shit from two days of traveling and a night spent in an ancient prison. The water could have sharks in it and I’d still risk it.”

“You’re gonna dress up like a proper Roman lady?”

“Yes, because the alternative is letting them think we don’t belong, grow suspicious of us, and do something horrible. We need to play along, Arina…and we need to stop biting Consuls.”

“I hate him,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.

Elain only shrugged, beckoning for her friend to follow her out of the bedchamber. The hall was brightly lit from both hanging lamps and nearby arched windows that allowed light and air to pour inside in equal measure. It was here that Arina seemed to relax a little, running her finger tips over the gold encrusted walls with awe.

“Look at this,” Arina breathed, pausing beside a Corinthian style column. “To see it…just…wow.”

The pair touched the marble on the column, craning their necks to look up at the ornate estatis just at the top. The whole thing was pure decoration and though Elain knew it had been built a good several decades earlier, the marble was pristine and vibrant.

“This is real,” Arina breathed.

Elain couldn’t help her smile.

This was real.

LUCIEN:

Lucien was having a difficult time focusing. He ought to be listening to important business of the empire…and yet his eyes kept sliding to the open window where Elena was, walking through his garden in a vibrant red stola. No one had done her hair and so she’d left it wild like a child, half hidden beneath a palla pinned into her dark curls. Lucien was so curious about why she wore it—he had it on good authority she wasn’t married. Was she widowed?

Did she not know the custom? He was woefully uneducated about life in Brittana, perhaps all women wore the palla. Maybe she was worried about her modesty like a good Roman woman ought to be? The only way to know was to ask and Lucien couldn’t ask without revealing to the men around him that he’d rather spend his time talking to a woman rather than dealing with important matters.

But he did want that. He wanted to try and piece together her rather charming accent…and if Lucien was honest, he wanted to touch her. Wanted to touch the coils of curls blowing in the breeze, wanted to run a knuckle over her unblemished cheek just to see if her skin was as soft as it looked.

He wanted to do other things, too—things that were wholly inappropriate if he was to find a suitable husband for her and get her out of his home. And then he’d spend the rest of his life wondering what it was like to have a woman like that in his bed, until he inevitably took her as his mistress, pissing off whatever man he’d arranged for her in the first place.

Problems for future Lucien, certainly.

Turning his attention back to the room, Lucien’s eyes slid to the map laid out before him. He wanted to invade Germania and succeed where so many before him had failed. Taking that northern territory would allow him to hunt down the saxon’s that plagued his coastlines, too, and take back the treasure they’d been plundering.

There were a few routes they could take in, but crossing the Rhine was Lucien’s preference. He’d been there during the first campaign and had assisted in building the bridge they’d used to cross—it had terrified the Germanic barbarians to see the might of Rome, sending them scattering further into the interior.

Lucien could build roads and bridges all he liked—getting through the forests was what plagued them. They didn’t have the tactical advantage and Lucien refused to go if defeat was the only path forward. If he was going to lose men, it was going to be in service of victory.

Agreeing to reconvene over wine that night, Lucien sent his advisors away for the time being, intending to meet with a few generals—and Jurian, who would lead his campaign—later that week. Just in time for the games to begin and spread the right amount of propagare that would convince the people of his authority.

Above all else, Lucien needed the backing of the people of Rome just as much as he needed the army. He was drowning in tasks, which didn’t explain why Lucien began his descent into the gardens the mere second he was alone. It was shameful to be so curious about a woman, especially one his brother had accused of being a whore and yet…Lucien’s father had always been especially taken with his mother. There had been no infidelity on his fathers end unless you counted the time he’d been sleeping with Amera while she’d been married to Beron.

Beron had divorced his wife for political reasons and Helion had merely swooped in and married her quickly and quietly before anyone could truly object. And then, when Beron was made Emperor, Helion took off for the outer provinces…just to be safe. It hadn’t been until Lucien had been a man and called back to the city that Helion dared to return, too.

Lucien just needed to know if another man had a claim to her. That was all—it was practical, he swore, adjusting his toga so the purple was especially vibrant in the afternoon sun. He knew he ought to cut his long, auburn hair to conform with the more fashionable short styles and yet…Lucien had left it long because he liked it. It had started on the battlefield, curling around his neck before the length straightened it all out. It had been a joke among the legion he was in—they always knew where Lucien was because of his lovely, effeminate hair.

What had begun as a joke had somehow transcended Roman norms and though some of the older patrician’s threw him a dirty look now and again, the rest of them didn’t seem terribly bothered so long as Lucien kept it neat and pulled out of his face. No braids or beads like the barbarian’s wore, no adornments of any kind. When he worked, he often tied it off his neck in a bun to give the illusion of short hair.

At least it wasn’t a beard, he reasoned.

He found Elain among the olive trees, one hand outstretched to touch one of the leaves. Lucien cleared his throat, hands clasped behind his back.

“Where is your friend?”

She turned abruptly, eyes wide. “She ah…” Elain bit her bottom lip. “She found the library.”

Lucien nodded. “Do you like to read?”

She shrugged. “I prefer being outdoors.”

“Do you spend much time outdoors?” he asked, noting the freckles dotting her nose. She must and yet her skin didn’t betray any of it. Most women preferred to stay indoors, far from the sun's vicious kiss that too often left their skin lined and leather-worn.

“Do you?” she replied, looking up at him through thick, dark lashes.

Lucien offered her a lopsided grin. “Of course. Especially when I have diverting company. Walk with me?”

“Only if you agree to answer all my questions.”

Something warm spread through Lucien. As he’d risen through the ranks, women had begun treating him differently—respectfully. In his mind, he was always thinking of Jesminda and how he’d been just another nobleman’s son and no one special at all. She’d teased him, taunted him—had wanted him without any of the fake modesty he loathed. Lucien had been fortunate to marry for love, once, and having had a taste of true marital bliss, he didn’t want the Roman arrangement his peers often found themselves embroiled in. Jurian was all but married to a woman he barely knew. It was a good prospect for him, if for no other reason than it increased his social standing and available wealth. Lucien didn’t need to worry about any of that anymore, though he would be a fool if he thought he could snub the fellow patrician families and choose just anyone.

Including the beautiful woman standing beside him. She was Roman and yet he knew she had no connection to anyone of importance in the city. He might as well declare himself in love with a barbarian princess and be done with it.

And he wasn’t. In love with her, that is. He was merely fascinated by her mouth and the way her curls caught the sun, making them seem almost golden in the right light. And Lucien had to admit he liked the sound of her voice and the rolling way she spoke.

“I’ll answer anything you ask of me,” Lucien agreed, offering her his bare arm rather selfishly. He just needed to know if her skin was as soft as it looked. She beamed up at him, the prettiest thing he’d ever seen in his entire life, and accepted. Her fingers were warm, gliding over his bare bicep without a care in the world. What would she look like adorned in gold, he wondered?

“How are you enjoying yourself?” he asked before she could get one of her own questions out. He didn’t need to answer anything if he did all the talking.

She considered his question and only after her silence stretched did Lucien consider that she did not speak Latin as well as he thought. He gave her space, walking her over a careful, stone laid path around the olive grove.

“Your hospitality has been generous,” she began carefully, fingers fidgeting in the pleats of her dress. “I’m sure Arina and I would be fine living somewhere on our own—”

“Who will protect you?” Lucien demanded, getting close to the question he was most interested in. “Two unmarried women shouldn’t be alone in the city.”

She nodded, not disputing his words.

Lucien pounced. “You’re not married?”

She glanced up at him, eyes narrowing. “No, I’m not married.”

“Why?”

She took a breath. “I have a fiance—”

“A what?”

She murmured something under breath in a language he didn’t understand. I forgot french hasn’t been invented yet. He didn’t like that Britanic language—it was too harsh, too angry to be coming out of such lovely lips.

“I am…sponsalia?”

Lucien blanched. “To who?”

“He lives far from here.”

“And he let you leave unaccompanied?” Lucien demanded, thinking if he met this man, he’d kill him for his cowardice. What kind of man sent his future wife on the road alone where any number of horrible things could happen to her? No, that man was no man at all. Elain had been overtaken on the road and had she not found his home, who knew what might have happened to her?

Lucien didn’t want to think about it.

“He trusts me,” she said foolishly. What did trust have to do with reality, he wondered?

“And look at how well that worked for you both,” Lucien replied, unable to keep the bite from his words. “You were set upon by bandits and then imprisoned for being a spy. If my brother had his way, you’d be working with the local prostitutes and your fiance would be disgraced to have ever been attached to you.”

Her cheeks reddened, not with shame like he expected, but anger. “Don’t do me any favors, Caesar.”

Why did he like it, he wondered? And yet… “Do you consider this a favor, Elena?”

“I did.”

“And now?”

She kicked a clod of dirt with her foot. “I feel like an imposition.”

“Disavow him,” Lucien commanded, halting in his tracks to look at her. “Say he means nothing to you.”

“I…”

“Disavow him and I will put the backing of Rome behind you,” he swore, wishing he had his sword to swear upon.

“I can’t—”

“You will.”

It was wrong, perhaps, to force her into ending whatever marriage she’d been entered into. The bond clearly wasn’t strong if he was willing to risk his future wife. Perhaps he hoped something would happen to her. The thought angered Lucien.

“Please don’t,” she whispered, but Lucien’s mind was made up and he would not be denied.

“Then call him to Rome to answer for his treatment,” Lucien ordered, certain she would not do that. Elain rounded on him, hands on her hips and he wondered with delight if she would deny him.

“So you can slaughter him?”

“You wound me. I believe in the rule of law—”

“What law did he break?” she demanded and oh. She had him there. Technically the man had done nothing other than offend Lucien. Wasn’t that enough? He was Emperor, why should he be offended by some man from Britannia that didn’t value his soon-to-be wife?

“You broke laws,” Lucien reminded her, scrambling for anything that would give him validity. “Your father is responsible—”

“My father is dead,” she said, some of the fire in her eyes extinguished.

“Then your brother or uncle—”

“I have none.”

Lucien offered her a smile so saccharine it tasted sweet on his tongue. “Which leaves your soon-to-be husband to answer for your crimes. Call him or disavow him.”

Elain looked up at him, arms crossed over her chest. “And if I disavow him, what then?”

Lucien’s grin widened. “I would be delighted to accept responsibility for you and find a suitable husband.”

“A terrifying prospect,” she grumbled. Lucien was half decided on who he’d marry her to—no one he knew was good enough for her. Was he? He wanted to find out. The more she spoke, the longer he breathed the same air, only made him want her more. “Fine. I disavow him. He means nothing to me, I owe him nothing.”

“Would he mourn your death?” Lucien asked curiously, tilting his head to the side. She blinked, eyes strangely glassy.

“I don’t know,” she finally said as her tongue darted out to wet her lips. Lucien’s body went taut for a moment, eyes tracking the way she moved. He felt like a predator back on the killing fields, sword in hand even as he prepared to have his life ended. She could end him, too—not with a weapon but her words, a look, a touch. If she would not marry him, Lucien would take her in any way he could get her. He would deny he’d touched her if that's what she asked, would keep her as an ornament in his home and raise their illegitimate children. She had no father, no brother, no husband. No man who could deny him, though Lucien could not have been denied even if she did.

Reaching for her chin, Lucien forced Elain to look at him. Elena, he thought with pleasure. She’d need a more Romanized name to be accepted by the people. Would she like Helena, he wondered? He was getting ahead of himself and yet Lucien felt settled.

Pleased, too.

Holding her gaze, he said, “I would mourn you.”

“You don’t even know me,” she replied, drawing a soft, shaking breath.

Lucien shook his head. “I feel the opposite. I feel as if I’ve known you my whole life.” Like he’d been waiting for her. Guilt slithered through him, hot and oily as he remembered Jesminda. He’d once said the same thing about her. Was he the kind of man who could forget love so quickly? Lucien couldn’t help his foolish heart. Looking at the woman beside him, far paler than she’d been when they’d first begun talking, he knew he had his work cut out for him.

He could demand her hand—could assert himself as the sole authority over her and then demand she wed him. And Lucien could imagine just how well that would go. He’d have her in his bed, but she wouldn’t be willing, wouldn’t want him. He knew plenty of men with disinterested wives, who submitted out of duty but not desire. Having tasted love with Jesminda, Lucien wanted it again. Wanted it so badly he was willing to toss out tradition, at least until she got to know him better.

“Come,” he said with an easy smile, “let me show you the fountain. It’s my favorite.”

—

Arina didn’t care what Elain said—they needed to leave. Elain was too struck by the history of it all that she’d forgotten they were living in an ancient human civilization that was so far removed from their own that any number of horrible tragedies might befall them. Elain had, if nothing else, seen the toilet situation.

Holed up in the Emperor’s library, Arina forced herself to sit in a chair that was deeply uncomfortable, a book laid across her lap. On any other day, finding a first edition transcription of Aristotle’s teachings would have been a dream—she could touch it. Now, though, Arina couldn’t even enjoy herself.

In truth, she was terrified. Obvious problems aside, they had no way to get back, no way to escape. There were far worse things between Rome and the estate they’d broken into beside just Lucien and his army. But if they could steal a horse, could get some coins…well. Arina figured they could be long gone before anyone in the capital even realized they were missing.

And with some knives—ideally with poisoned blades—they’d be in decent shape. They couldn’t take on a good swordsman, but how many highway robbers were any better than them?

Arina heard the sound of leather on marble, heard the high, bronze doors open and without seeing who came in, she just knew. Eris. He was the blueprint for all modern Italian men—arrogant, certain of his own greatness, and desperate for a woman to subjugate. Just like her father, she thought darkly. He strolled in, dressed like the immaculate senator he was. Did he know that Arina knew everything about him? The would-be Emperor, ousted by his own father who knew ahead of time, had planned to kill his son. He hadn’t suspected Eris had conspirators, but he had destroyed every soldier who might have taken the city for Rome and alerted Helion who then moved quickly to ensure his own son took the city before it could fall into the hands of some hated rival.

Eris survived—thrived, even. He lived just as long as his brother, had a whole host of children with a foreign born woman known only to history as Agripina, and seemed generally happy in his later writings. Arina had never cared much for this period of time outside of the art, the sculptures, the architecture. Now, though?

Well, Arina would be an expert at this rate.

Eris made his way into the large atrium, amber eyes finding hers. His impassive expression shifted into a frown, his disdain plain.

“Who taught you how to read?”

Arina cocked her head and smoothed her blue stola beneath her hands. “Are you looking for lessons?”

She really shouldn’t test him—knew that he could make her life exceptionally difficult. And yet it was fun to see his gaze sharpen and his spine straighten as he recognized the challenge.

Striding toward her, Eris plucked the book from her fingers to examine the writings. “What do you know of Aristotle?” Arina wanted to laugh in his face. More than he did, she’d wager. “Enough.”

He handed the book back, closing the leather bound cover carefully before doing so. It was tempting to tell him that his own wife would be so literate that in his final years, she was the one who wrote down his every thought.

“You’re excused,” Eris informed her dismissively, turning toward the arching windows overlooking the garden. He made his way toward them, hands folded behind his back, to do the same thing Arina had been doing—spying on Elain and the Emperor.

Elain was so beautiful that every man who saw her fell a little in love with her. It wasn’t unusual for men to stop Elain on the street spouting sonnets about her beauty or begging for just ten minutes of her time. If Elain wasn’t careful, he’d be demanding she marry him before the week was out and they’d be in real trouble.

Arina rose to her feet, unwilling to argue with Eris. She couldn’t argue with him as far as she remembered. His word was law even in this place, and even over her.

“Che cazzo,” she hissed under her breath, well aware Eris had no hope of deciphering the actual meaning of her words. Italian wasn’t a language anyone spoke yet. Eris’s head whipped around all the same, eyes narrowed to slits.

“What barbarian tribe are you actually from?” he asked, crossing his arms over a broad chest.

Adopting her most brain dead smile, Arina said, “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“That language…” he wrinkled his nose with disdain. “Is lingua latina not spoken even as far North as Britannia?”

Arina couldn’t help her laugh. If only he knew. “But of course.”

“Tell me.”

“Why? So you can accuse me of any number of untrue things?”

Eris took a soft breath, nostrils flaring. “If I swear not to accuse you?”

“I would still lie,” Arina replied with that same saccharine smile. “Surely you understand the importance of speaking multiple languages? Or can you not speak Greek?”

“I don’t speak any of the barbarian languages—”

“Yet,” she interrupted, holding his gaze. “But who knows? Maybe in five years you’ll need someone who can.”

“What were you really doing in my brother's home?”

Arina’s eyes slid over his shoulders, toward the dots that were Elain and Lucien standing before a marble carved fountain. Studying it. She so badly wanted to tell him the truth—to tell someone all of her fears, of the nightmare she currently found herself in. She couldn’t. Arina pressed her lips shut, eyes returning to the man standing before her.

“I’m going to find out,” he warned her softly. “I’m a terrible enemy to have.”

She only shrugged, heart thudding roughly in her chest. “I’ve already told you everything. I’ll leave you to your thoughts.”

She was nearly at the door when he called out, “‘Che cazzo.’ What does it mean?”

His Italian wasn’t awful—certainly less offensive than when Graysen had bid her a good day in the choppiest drawl she’d ever heard in her life. Arina knew better than to tell him the truth, and yet…

“Capitium,” she said, using the Latin for little head as Eris’s expression darkened. Dick. She could call a man a dick in every language.

Pleased with herself, Arina attempted to flounce from the room, satisfied she’d at least cut Eris down to size. It didn’t solve any of her problems but it did make her feel better.

She was nearly to the hall when strong fingers wrapped around her bare arm, pulling her back flush against his chest.

Lowering his mouth to her ear, Eris murmured, “The next time you reference my cock, I’ll assume you’re asking to see it.”

“You disgust me,” she whispered without thinking.

He only chuckled, low and soft. He smelled nice, a mix of spices she didn’t immediately recognize. Shouldn’t all men reek of body odor? This one, especially, ought to smell like sewage given how handsome his face was.

“I’ll bet you’d say that on your knees.”

Arina elbowed him roughly in the ribs, certain he would do nothing but let her go. There was the faintest echo of outrage etched on his features, but more horrifyingly, she found something that read like a challenge gazing back at her. That was dangerous, especially in a place where men could do whatever they liked to women under their protection.

Forcing herself to smile, Arina wrenched from his grasp to look up at the tall warrior gazing back at her. “If you put your cock in my face, you’ll regret it.”

“Such a filthy mouth,” Eris all but crooned, undeterred by the threat. “I look forward to using—”

She knew better. Oh, Arina knew better even back home, than to slap a man. It was dangerous back home where men were prone to violence when provoked—and literally anything might provoke them.

It was worse, here. He already thought her a barbarian, knew she had no male relative to watch over her, and just barely tolerated her. The two of them stood there, chests heaving as a patch of red bloomed across his cheek. Arina’s palm stung from the force of the blow, hidden behind her back as if she could take it all back.

Bracing herself for his fury, Arina steeled her spine even as she flinched back. Eris watched, head slightly cocked, his own hand rising not to strike her back, but to touch his face. Arina wasn’t going to apologize—he had no right to speak to her that way.

And still, she was scared.

Eris exhaled through his nostrils. “Watch yourself,” he warned her, lifting his chin as though that might salve his wounded pride, “or I’ll put you in the military since you want to fight.”

Arina exhaled the breath she’d been holding. “I—” I’m sorry. “Of course.”

Eris gestured for her to leave, turning his head and Arina, not willing to stick around and test his good will, tripped over the skirt of her dress in her haste. At the end of the hall, she turned to look over her shoulder, surprised to find him still standing in the archway.

Watching.

#elucien #i still see “disavow him” in my dreams

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