#and I still have only written that one fic

[romugh]

SUDDENLY, THE STAR I STUDIED WAS YOU- NR

pairing- prof!natasha romanoff x gp!student!reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, bottom!natasha, legal age gap (23, 29), oral (n & r rcv), handie (r rcv), blowie (r rcv), slight lactation kink (if you squint), slight exhibitionism (?), slight praise kink, unprotected sex, soft & rough emotional sex, i think that's all?

wc- 12k??? smut (6k worldbuilding - angsty (?), 6k smut)

a/n- requested! this is my first request ever, so sorry if it's a bit weird, i tried to find a balance between everything while still following the request. have fun reading :p quite a few gip requests, but non-gip fics coming out soon, too! also, apologies for my nerdy physics side coming out, i promise not all metaphors will always be stars and the universe in my upcoming fics!

request- natasha and the reader meet at a bar, where an instant connection is formed. the next day, the reader realizes she’s late for class, only to find that natasha is a part-time professor filling in for the regular instructor on maternity leave. despite their complicated dynamic, feelings begin to develop, neither of them able to forget or ignore the connection that seems to have been written in the stars.

synopsis- what began as a fleeting connection at a bar turns into something deeper when you, a dedicated astrophysics student, find yourself caught between the stars you study and the one standing before you—your brilliant redheaded physics professor.

taglist?- @lost-mortemanghel - comment or dm if you want to be added x

The bar hummed with the usual Sunday night energy—laughter, clinking glasses, and music filling the air. You sat with your friends, playing the role of the designated sober one, one you were used to taking on during nights like these. The thought of Monday morning classes didn’t bother you much; you always managed to balance things out. Your attention wandered, eyes scanning the room as you sipped on your soda.

Across the room, Natasha Romanoff sat at the bar counter, her attention drifting as she absently traced the rim of her half-empty vodka glass. Her fingers, adorned with sleek silver rings, caught the changing light, glinting like electrons shifting between energy levels—an occasional shimmer with each delicate movement. Her gaze remained fixed on the woman who had entered the bar a few minutes prior, the small group of friends around her seeming to create a cosy bubble. Natasha had felt it the instant you walked in—an inexplicable pull that she couldn’t quite ignore.

Your eyes locked for the first time, and something clicked, like a cosmic event neither of you fully understood. The noise of the bar seemed to dull for a second. Her green eyes traced your face, your presence in the crowd creating a strange gravity she couldn’t quite explain, tugging her focus toward you as if you were the singularity at the centre of a black hole.

For you, it was no different. The world blurred at the edges, leaving only her. You couldn’t shake the sensation, that nagging curiosity about why you felt so drawn to this woman. The pull was strong, but there was no rational reason for it. You didn’t even know her, yet your gaze found hers again and again, as if pulled into her orbit.

Between the bustle of people, the two of you kept making fleeting eye contact. Each time, it lingered just a little longer, an electric charge building with every glance. It was subtle, like the gravitational waves rippling through space, just beneath the surface—something powerful yet invisible, drawing the two of you together.

Just when you felt like the next moment would finally break the tension, someone bumped into you, breaking your line of sight. You shifted, trying to find the woman again through the crowd, but she was obscured as someone passed in front of her, momentarily blocking her view of you. The connection, broken for a brief second, left both of you with an unexplainable ache, a yearning for something you didn’t quite understand.

The noise of the bar faded into the background, but the weight of that momentary connection lingered in the air between you and Natasha, tugging at something deep inside, an invisible force drawing you together. Even though the crowd shifted and swayed, people passing, glasses clinking, laughter echoing in the air, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being pulled toward her.

Your friends were immersed in the night’s fun, pulling you in with their conversations, but your thoughts kept drifting back to her. Across the room, Natasha sat at the bar, staring into her glass, though her mind wasn’t on the drink. She felt it too—the strange, almost gravitational pull that tugged at her every time her eyes found you. She couldn't help but scan the crowd, hoping for another glimpse.

But as the minutes ticked by, it became harder to focus on anything else. Both of you were caught in a loop, searching, finding, and then losing sight of one another in a pattern that felt more like orbiting than anything else. Natasha’s heart thumped in her chest, harder than she wanted to admit. She couldn’t place why her breath hitched every time she thought she saw you again, why it felt like the space between you was shrinking, collapsing like the event horizon of a black hole.

Finally, around 11, your friends started gathering their things, calling it a night. You followed them outside, laughter and banter still buzzing around you, but your mind wasn’t there. While you stood outside waiting for the Uber, Natasha remained inside, scanning the dancefloor for your face. Her heart seemed to beat louder, faster, like a photon travelling through space, seeking light but finding none. The momentary loss, the lack of your presence in the crowded room, tugged at her.

Feeling the need for fresh air, Natasha slid off her barstool, the cool night air rushing over her as she stepped outside. As soon as her foot hit the pavement, her mood lifted again—a soft, inexplicable flutter in her chest—because there you were.

You turned around just as she stepped outside. The world felt smaller, the space between you thinner. For a split second, everything else disappeared—the traffic noise, the hum of your friends talking, the bar chatter behind her. It was just you, standing there under the night sky, your eyes finding hers as if by some unspoken command.

And there it was again, that tension, pulling taut between you two like a force field. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips, and you nodded toward the bar. “Hey, want a drink?”

Natasha blinked, caught off guard, but she didn’t let it show. The warmth of your smile did something to her, something unexpected and unfamiliar. For a moment, her cheeks heated, and she cursed herself for reacting this way. But when she returned your smile, it was genuine, and her eyes twinkled like the stars above your heads, a silent reflection of the celestial wonder she often looked toward for answers.

“Sure,” she replied, her voice smooth, though inside she felt like she was standing too close to the sun, her resolve melting, but she wasn’t about to let it show.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

As the night wore on, the bar became a backdrop to a deeper connection that unfolded between you and Natasha. Time seemed to stretch and compress, bending to the rhythm of your conversation. Each word exchanged felt like a discovery, peeling back layers and revealing more of the universe within both of you.

For you, Natasha’s presence was mesmerising. Her gaze, intense and thoughtful, drew you in like the gravitational pull of a distant star. Her words were a melody of intellect and curiosity, and as she spoke, it was as if she was unravelling the mysteries of the universe right before your eyes. Her laughter, when it came, was like the twinkling of stars, bright and infectious, adding to the enchantment of the evening.

As the conversation deepened, the world around you seemed to fade into the background. The music played on, but it was a mere hum compared to the symphony of thoughts and emotions you shared. The chemistry between you was palpable, though it remained unspoken, hanging like a silent promise between your exchanged smiles and knowing looks.

The minutes turned into hours, and by the time the clock edged closer to 1 a.m., the atmosphere in the bar had shifted. The music, once a mere background noise, began to pulse with a vibrant energy. The crowd's energy surged, and the dancefloor started to beckon with an irresistible pull.

You felt it too—the undeniable urge to move, to lose yourself in the rhythm, to let the music carry you. You looked at Natasha, who was still absorbed in your conversation, her eyes reflecting the same sense of anticipation.

With a smile that spoke of unspoken desires, you stood up, extending your hand toward her. “Come on,” you said, your voice inviting. “Let’s dance.”

Natasha looked up, her eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, there was a spark—a shared excitement and curiosity. She hesitated only for a second before placing her hand in yours. As you led her to the dancefloor, the sensation of her hand in yours was electric, like a surge of energy connecting two celestial bodies. The transition from the intimate conversation to the dancefloor felt like a natural progression, a step closer to the unknown yet thrilling.

The music's tempo picked up, the beats more insistent, and the dancefloor pulsed with life. You and Natasha moved together, bodies swaying to the rhythm, each step a dance of discovery and connection. The surrounding world faded, and it was just the two of you, lost in the music and each other’s presence.

As you danced, the cosmos seemed to align around you, the energy between you building, charged with the unspoken understanding that this night was far from ordinary. The stars outside might have been the same, but within the bar, under the pulsating lights, the universe had shifted, drawing you and Natasha closer in a celestial dance of your own.

On the dancefloor, the lights cast fleeting shadows and highlights across the crowd, creating an otherworldly ambiance that perfectly matched the charged atmosphere between you and Natasha. The music's rhythm was a heartbeat echoing through the space, a constant pulse that synced with the mounting tension between you.

As you moved together, your bodies swayed in time with the music, and the space between you was filled with an almost tangible electric charge. Natasha’s proximity was intoxicating; her body moved with a grace that made every gesture seem deliberate, every touch a whisper of something deeper. The heat from her body radiated toward you, a warmth that contrasted with the cool air around you. It was as if the space between you was charged with a magnetic force, drawing you closer with each beat.

Your breaths were synchronised, each inhale and exhale creating a shared rhythm that made the air between you thick with anticipation. The warmth of Natasha's breath brushed against your skin, a tantalising hint of the intimacy that was just out of reach. Every time she exhaled, her breath mingled with yours, creating a delicate, almost imperceptible mist that hung between you, a prelude to something more.

The way you moved together felt like a cosmic dance, a choreography written by the stars themselves. Your faces were close enough that you could feel the soft, fluttering rush of Natasha's breath against your cheek, a feather-light sensation that made your heart race. Her scent—a subtle blend of something earthy and sweet—filled your senses, adding another layer to the growing tension. The scent of her perfume lingered around you, a promise of what might come if only you took that final step.

As the music swelled, so did the space between you, narrowing with each synchronised movement. Your hands brushed against each other, not quite touching but close enough to feel the warmth and electricity of the almost-contact. The tips of your fingers grazed Natasha’s arms, each brush of skin a delicate dance that sent shivers up your spine.

As you danced, Natasha became acutely aware of the press of your bodies against each other. She could feel the firm outline of your body pressing into hers, the subtle, undeniable evidence of your physical arousal becoming more apparent with each move. Her mind, however, was consumed by the emotional pull she felt towards you. The realisation of your physical presence was there, but it was the depth of the connection and the intensity of the moment that held her attention, making her heart race and her thoughts scatter, consumed by the unexpected bond forming between you.

Every step, every turn brought you closer, the space between you shrinking to a mere whisper. The world outside faded into insignificance; it was just the two of you, locked in this electrifying dance of proximity and tension. The music, the lights, the crowd—all were background to the magnetic force pulling you toward each other, a force that felt as inevitable as the gravitational pull of a star.

The longer you remained in each other’s orbit, the more the tension skyrocketed, reaching a crescendo that left you both breathless and yearning. It was as if the universe itself was holding its breath, waiting for the moment when the pull between you would finally break free and the last inch of space would vanish.

Every inch you moved toward each other was charged with potential, the slightest shift in your posture bringing you ever closer. Natasha's lips were soft and inviting, just a whisper away from yours. You could feel the heat of her breath mingling with yours, a tantalising promise of what was almost within reach. The world around you seemed to blur into the background, leaving only the two of you in this charged, suspended moment.

Just as your lips were on the verge of touching, a sudden, jarring push came from the crowd. Someone bumped into Natasha, jostling her slightly and causing your lips to make the barest of contact. The touch was fleeting, barely a brush, but it was electrifying. The moment your lips connected, a spark seemed to leap between you, sending a jolt of sensation through both of you.

Natasha’s eyes widened slightly, her breath catching in her throat as she absorbed the unexpected charge. You could feel the lingering warmth of her lips, the fleeting connection leaving you both breathless and yearning for more.

The crowd’s movement had broken the spell, and Natasha stepped back slightly, her cheeks flushed and her gaze still locked onto yours. The touch had been a mere fraction of a second, but it had set off a cascade of emotions, leaving both of you craving the closeness that had just been so tantalisingly close.

As you steadied yourselves, the magnetic pull between you remained a constant, irresistible force drawing you together. The music played on, its rhythm now a mere backdrop to the heightened anticipation that filled the space between you. Though the moment had passed, its electric charge lingered, leaving both of you with an unspoken promise and a shared yearning for what might come next.

The crowd around you swirled and ebbed with the rhythm of the night, but the tension between you and Natasha remained palpable, a hum of anticipation. As the music continued its relentless beat, you both found yourselves gravitating back to the bar. Natasha’s hand rested gently on your back, her touch warm and soft, a comforting presence amidst the pulsating energy of the club.

When you glanced at your phone, you were surprised to find it was already 3. The hour had crept up on you both with gentle inevitability. With a soft sigh, you decided it was time to head home, the night having stretched far beyond your expectations. You exchanged warm, lingering looks, the unspoken promise of what could be hanging between you like a delicate thread.

The brief connection you shared at the bar was intense, but neither of you had exchanged contact details, only names. Lost in the whirlwind of the night and the unexpected bond, you both had an unspoken understanding that you'd see each other again soon. Yet, neither of you anticipated how quickly fate would intertwine your paths once more. In reality, 'soon' would turn out to be just a few hours away, as destiny was ready to bring you together again in the most unexpected way.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

You woke up gently, still wrapped in the warmth of your duvet. A content sigh escaped your lips as you snuggled deeper into the covers. But as you lazily pried one eye open, your heart leaped at the sight of the digital clock flashing 8:20 a.m.

The realisation struck you with a jolt; you were already twenty minutes late for class. Panic surged through you as you scrambled out of bed, your mind racing with a mix of frustration and urgency.

You threw on clothes in a flurry, silently cursing yourself for oversleeping and hoping that, somehow, the stars would align in your favour. You clung to a faint hope that Professor Rambeau would understand—it was Monday morning after all, and you were usually always punctual.

As you hurriedly gathered your things and dashed out the door, a lingering thought crossed your mind: being late to class felt like a small price to pay for the pure connection you’d experienced the night before. A smile tugged at your lips, a fleeting reminder of that moment. But as you jogged towards campus, the smile quickly faded into a frown as you hoped, more than anything, that you wouldn’t be the only one arriving late.

As you rounded the corner of the campus building, you spotted Maria and Leighton walking briskly toward the lecture hall, their animated conversation making its way through the crisp morning air. Both were clearly running late as well, their hurried pace matching yours.

Maria Hill, with her signature no-nonsense demeanour, was in the middle of an animated tirade about Leighton's habit of hitting the snooze button too many times. Her voice, though frustrated, had a familiar warmth that felt oddly comforting. Leighton Murray, on the other hand, seemed to be giving as good as she got, her own sharp retorts mingling with laughter as she tried to defend her morning routine.

You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle as you approached them. Their bickering, filled with playful jabs and half-serious complaints, brought a smile to your lips and a sense of relief to your otherwise frazzled morning. As you caught up with them, you felt your heart steady, thankful that you were not the only one scrambling to make it to class on time.

"Hey, you two!" you called out, falling into step beside them. "Glad to see I'm not the only one who's fashionably late."

Maria glanced at you, her expression softening from irritation to mild amusement. "Looks like we're all in the same boat. Where’s your usual punctuality?"

Leighton grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Yeah, you’re usually the first one here. What happened—sleep in for the first time ever?"

You shrugged, the earlier stress melting away with their presence. "You could say I had a bit of an unexpected night. But hey, at least I’m not alone in this."

As you approached the lecture hall, the three of you exchanged knowing glances and shared a collective breath, ready to face whatever Professor Rambeau had in store for the day. The laughter and camaraderie of your friends had turned a stressful start into a reminder that sometimes, the universe has a way of aligning things perfectly—even if it's just for a shared moment of imperfect punctuality.

As you and your friends entered the classroom, a sudden hush fell over the room. The usual chatter about equations and coursework abruptly ceased, replaced by a palpable tension. Your eyes scanned the room, and to your shock, the figure at the front was none other than the redhead from last night.

Natasha stood at the front, her face composed and inscrutable. Her emerald eyes flicked towards you, registering a brief flicker of surprise, followed by an emotionless coldness that was hard to ignore. She then quickly shifted her gaze to the other two girls standing beside you, Maria and Leighton, who she realised were not at the bar a few hours ago.

Leighton, always quick with a quip, broke the silence with her usual bravado. "Uh, excuse me, but who the hell are you, and where’s Professor Rambeau?"

Natasha’s voice, sharp and devoid of warmth, cut through the air. “If you had been on time, like every other student here, you would know that I am replacing Professor Rambeau, who is on maternity leave. Unless you want to start off on an even worse foot with me, I suggest you sit down and get to work.”

The depth of Natasha’s rasp was familiar, but her tone was starkly different from the warmth you’d experienced the night before. It was all business now, a far cry from the easy connection you’d shared earlier.

With no other choice, and feeling the weight of Natasha’s authoritative gaze, you exchanged uneasy glances with Maria and Leighton before finding your seats. As you sat down, the reality of the situation set in. Natasha—your enigmatic redhead from the bar—was now your professor, and the unspoken promise of the previous night suddenly felt very unattainable in the light of this new dynamic.

As the classroom chatter resumed, Natasha wrestled with her swirling thoughts. The vibrant connection she had felt with you the night before now seemed almost unreal in the sterile academic environment.

Despite her efforts to focus on the lecture, her gaze kept drifting toward you. You were absorbed in your work, but Natasha couldn’t shake the pull she felt towards you. The ease and connection from last night clashed sharply with the formalities of the classroom, making her feel disoriented.

As students whispered and worked, Natasha’s thoughts remained centred on you. Each glance in your direction stirred up a mixture of confusion and longing. The promise of what had been a potential connection now seemed distant and unattainable, buried under the weight of her professional responsibilities and the unexpected emotions she was struggling to manage.

As the clock struck noon, signalling the end of class, the room buzzed with the sound of shuffling papers and the clatter of backpacks being packed away. You took your time, even though you knew you should move on from the fleeting connection you had felt the night before. It had been nothing more than an intense moment, pure and untouched, but still, it lingered in your mind.

Leighton and Maria were quick to escape, their footsteps echoing down the hallway as they left, eager to distance themselves from the professor who had, in their eyes, bruised their egos. Natasha, meanwhile, remained seated at her desk, her attention apparently fixed on her papers, though she was acutely aware of your presence lingering in the classroom.

The room had quickly emptied, but you were still there. You moved at a deliberate pace, your footsteps quiet and measured. As you made your way toward the door at the front of the class, bringing you closer to Natasha's desk, the tension between you seemed to build again, palpable and almost tangible.

When you paused to turn and look back, Natasha's gaze met yours. Her emerald eyes were now swirling with emotions—confusion, surprise, sadness, and a sharp pang of guilt. Despite the undercurrent of it, the tension remained, the unspoken bond between you still crackling in the air. It was as if the connection you had shared was waiting to be acknowledged, hanging heavily in the space between you, and drawing both of you into a magnetic, unresolved pull.

The room fell into an enveloping silence, both of you locked in a quiet standoff of unspoken emotions. Natasha’s gaze was steady, but her expression betrayed a swirl of confusion and yearning. You, unable to resist the growing tension, finally broke the silence.

With a small, rueful smile, you shook your head gently and murmured, “You don’t look a day older than 25, I’m sorry.” The words, meant to ease the tension, had the opposite effect. Natasha’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, her eyes wide as they searched yours. The warmth in her gaze was now unmistakable, reflecting a mix of surprise and a lingering pull towards you.

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, a sad smile tugging at her lips as she absorbed your words. The soft blush on her cheeks spoke volumes, a silent testament to the attraction and connection that still simmered beneath the surface.

“I didn’t think a student would be out on a Sunday night,” Natasha replied quietly, her voice carrying a hint of regret. “I’m sorry too.”

The tension in the room remained palpable, as if the air itself was charged with the unresolved feelings between you. You were just as sweet, gentle, and caring as you had been the night before, and Natasha found herself just as drawn to you, the pull between you undeniable.

You sighed softly, closing your eyes for a moment to gather your thoughts. When you opened them again, the warmth and sincerity in your gaze were unmistakable. The room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of the unspoken connection hanging between you both.

Natasha stood up slowly, her movements deliberate as she turned her attention to the pile of papers on her desk. She gathered them with careful precision, placing them into her bag. The act was a physical attempt to distance herself from you, a bid to bury the connection that lingered so insistently.

She had to do this. She had to let the connection remain in the past. But how could she, when you had managed to break down the walls she had meticulously built? Walls that protected her independence, her self-reliance, and her belief that she needed no one. How was she supposed to simply walk away from someone who had managed to penetrate her defences so effortlessly, and so fast? This wasn’t like her, and she tried to convince herself that losing her job over a woman she had met less than 24 hours prior to this moment wasn’t worth it.

As Natasha turned, you immediately noticed the shift in her demeanour. She was retreating, attempting to leave behind the connection that had seemed so potent only hours earlier.

Maybe you were just imagining things—after all, you didn’t know her well enough to decipher the myriad feelings that flickered across her gaze. What were you even thinking, clinging to this fleeting connection?

“Make sure not to be late next time, Y/N. This is your first and last warning,” Natasha said, her voice striving for a cold, impersonal tone. But even as she spoke, you could sense the struggle behind her words, the battle between her professional facade and the personal turmoil she was trying so hard to hide.

You remained silent, trying to understand her position, even though it was difficult to fully grasp. After all, you didn’t know her well enough to be this affected. You reminded yourself to act like an adult—leave it behind, forget about the few hours you shared, and move on. You had to let go of the memory of her gaze, the way she danced with you, and the tender, reserved softness she had shown you just hours earlier.

With a heavy heart, you turned and walked out of the classroom. Natasha's face fell slightly as she watched you go, her emotions a mix of regret and resignation. She quickly masked her feelings, lifting her shoulders and straightening her back, running a hand through her hair as if to shake off the lingering weight of the moment.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

The weeks passed like drifting stardust, each day adding to the tangled web of emotions between Natasha and you. What had once felt like a fleeting connection was now a persistent gravitational force, pulling you both in a direction neither of you wanted to acknowledge. Yet, rather than embrace that pull, both of you built walls around it—resorting to coldness, even biting words, whenever the tension grew too close to the surface.

In the classroom, Natasha’s cold demeanour became a carefully constructed barrier. Her words were sharp, professional, and devoid of the warmth you had felt in her gaze that first night. But even through her frosty demeanour, you caught glimpses of the lingering emotions she was trying so desperately to hide. Her eyes would flicker toward you, a little too long, before snapping away—like someone dodging a question they don’t want to answer.

Outside the classroom, in the hallways and the cafeteria, your interactions were no better. When you crossed paths, there was an almost tangible electricity between you, but both of you chose to hide behind icy exchanges or curt nods. Every sarcastic remark from Natasha seemed to cut deeper than it should, but you responded in kind, unwilling to show any vulnerability in return. The magnetic pull between you, undeniable as it was, became something you both tried to sever with words and avoidance.

Yet, despite the coldness, there was still something underneath it all, a yearning that you both refused to admit to yourselves. As the days stretched into weeks, the tension only grew more unbearable. The brief glances, the curt exchanges, the moments of accidental contact—all of it felt like a star burning too brightly before it inevitably collapses.

You found yourself thinking about her at the oddest moments—late at night or when the classroom was quiet, the memory of her eyes and her presence refusing to leave your mind. Despite her sharp words, you couldn’t help but notice the way her voice softened when she thought no one was listening. Natasha, on the other hand, cursed herself every time her gaze drifted toward you or when her thoughts lingered on the conversations you used to have. Every insult, every cold word, was her way of trying to smother the fire that had started to burn too brightly.

In the spaces between, the two of you danced around the connection you once felt, pretending that the hostility was all that remained. But deep down, beneath the sharp words and cold exteriors, you both knew the pull was still there, simmering just out of reach—waiting for a moment when everything else would finally fall away.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

Natasha had always been good at compartmentalising—keeping her personal life in one box and her professional life in another, sealed tightly. But with you, it was different. The more she tried to put distance between the two of you, the more it gnawed at her. The pull between you two was magnetic, no matter how cold she tried to be, how many walls she threw up. Each glance in your direction became a betrayal of her own willpower. She cursed herself for feeling the way she did, but the flutter in her chest wouldn’t stop. And despite her best efforts to be distant, there was always a spark in her eyes when she looked at you, one she couldn’t quite extinguish.

You felt it too, the constant undercurrent of tension. Every time you looked at her, you saw something flicker behind those green eyes—emotions she refused to let rise to the surface. The way she treated you, cold and distant in class, felt forced, as if she were fighting herself as much as you. But you had grown frustrated with the pretence, with the tension that never seemed to resolve. Every shared glance in the hallways, every encounter in the cafeteria only

added fuel to the fire burning between you two. There was an undeniable pull, a gravitational force pulling you closer, but every time you neared, she pushed you away.

Natasha, on the other hand, was getting more conflicted with each passing day. It was becoming harder for her to hide the warmth that surged every time she saw you. Yet she kept up the act, treating you like any other student. But it wasn’t working. Not anymore. The barrier she had built was crumbling piece by piece, and she knew it.

For you, the frustration was mounting. She acted like the connection you had felt was nothing, as if she could pretend it didn’t exist. And yet, you knew it was there, simmering beneath every interaction. You could see it in the way her eyes lingered on you, the quick glances that conveyed so much more than she wanted to admit. It was only a matter of time before it all came to a head.

Both of you were falling—falling deeper into something neither of you could admit to yourselves, let alone each other.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

It started small—barely noticeable—but Natasha had picked up on it during the last few classes. You were acting differently. Smiling more at other people, laughing with Leighton and Maria, even flirting a bit with someone in the row behind you. The attention you gave others didn’t go unnoticed, and Natasha, from the front of the class, felt an unfamiliar tightness in her chest.

She wasn’t supposed to care. You were her student. You weren’t supposed to affect her this way, but every laugh you shared with someone else, every time you leaned in just a little too close to another person, that tightness grew. She gritted her teeth, her words sharper as she gave out the day’s assignment, trying to keep her tone professional. But you could tell—Natasha was fuming.

And that only made you push it more.

Over the next few days, you noticed her reactions becoming more pronounced. The way her eyes lingered on you longer when you talked to someone else. How her expression hardened when you didn’t give her your full attention. There was a cold jealousy simmering under the surface of her strict professionalism, and you knew it. You had felt the tension for weeks, and maybe it was the frustration of never addressing it that made you push her buttons now.

Today, you arrived late again, strolling in with an air of indifference, knowing it would irritate her. Her eyes followed you as you made your way to your seat, deliberately not apologizing, instead flashing a smile at someone next to you. You felt Natasha’s gaze burning into you from the front of the room, her hands gripping the edge of her desk just a little too tightly.

By the time class ended, the weight of her stare had become unbearable. She hadn’t said anything to you, but the tension between the two of you was thick enough to cut through. You

could feel her irritation from across the room, and part of you enjoyed it—enjoyed pushing her, seeing how far you could take it before she snapped.

As the rest of the class filtered out, you stayed behind. Natasha was still seated at her desk, papers spread out before her, but she wasn’t looking at them. Her gaze was fixed on you, cold and steely, the perfect picture of control—except for the way her jaw clenched every time you flashed a smile at someone else.

When the room finally emptied, leaving the two of you alone, Natasha didn’t wait.

"You were late again," she said, her voice dangerously low, each word clipped and precise. She pushed down the guilt she knew would follow, deciding that for your own good, this needed to stop. "Care to explain yourself this time, or are you really willing to throw away your degree over someone you spoke to for just a few hours at a bar?"

You raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against a desk, that familiar smirk playing at your lips, though you couldn’t help but feel your heart twitch slightly at her words. "I didn’t think you cared so much. Not like anyone else seemed to mind my late arrival."

Natasha shot you a piercing look, her annoyance barely masking a hint of something softer. "Of course I care. It’s part of my job to ensure you don’t waste your potential."

You leaned in slightly, a teasing grin on your face. "You know, I think I can sense how you feel. It’s hard not to, especially when the connection between us is so intense."

Natasha’s heart stammered in her chest as she fought to maintain her composure, the anger bubbling up faster than gravity could pull her down. Her eyes narrowed, the restraint she’d held onto for weeks fraying at the edges. "Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing."

You crossed your arms, feigning innocence. "What am I doing, exactly, Professor Romanoff?"

Natasha stood, the chair scraping against the floor as she moved toward you, closing the distance with each deliberate step. "You’ve been testing me. Pushing me. I don’t have time for whatever game you think this is. Move on. Stop trying. This never started, yet we both know it’s over."

You scoffed, meeting her fiery gaze head-on. "Maybe if you’d stop acting so jealous whenever you see me ‘moving on,’ as you put it, I’d have more success at that. But see, Professor," you emphasised her title with a teasing smirk, "I think you’re a bit jealous. Maybe you should move on too, or stop acting like a scared deer and confront your feelings head-on."

Her breath hitched, hands curling into fists as she struggled to maintain her composure. The emotions in her eyes were clear—unknown to her, you could practically read her like an open book. The slight anger flickering in her gaze didn’t escape your notice; her jealousy was merely a glass wall, transparent yet impenetrable.

"You're right, Natasha," you continued, straightening up and taking a step toward her. "Something has changed. We’ve been pretending for weeks, and I’m done with it. You can push me away all you want, but we both know this doesn’t just disappear."

Natasha’s gaze flickered, her usual mask slipping as anger and desire clashed behind her eyes. She took another step forward, her voice low and trembling with the effort to contain her emotions. "You need to stop."

But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. The tension had reached a breaking point, and the space between you crackled with everything left unsaid. "Why? Because you can’t handle it?"

That did it. Natasha’s control snapped, her hand shooting out to grab your wrist, pulling you closer until your faces were mere inches apart. Her voice was a harsh whisper. "You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t feel it? Every time I look at you, I—"

She cut herself off, her breath shaky as she tried to rein it in, but you saw the raw emotion in her eyes, the way her chest rose and fell with the effort of keeping it all inside.

"You don’t have to hold it in anymore," you murmured, leaning in closer, your breath mingling with hers. "Just let go."

For a moment, it felt like time stopped. Neither of you moved, both breathing hard, the weight of everything you had been holding back pressing down on the small space between you. Then, as if something in you shifted, you slowly turned towards the door. Natasha’s grip on your wrist tightened for a second, her eyes flaring in sudden panic as you reached for the handle.

Natasha’s chest was tight, each breath a struggle against the storm of emotions rising inside her. She’d kept her walls up for so long, hidden behind the cold professionalism that had been her refuge, but now, alone with you in the classroom, the weight of it all crashed over her. Her heart raced as you locked the door and closed the blinds, her pulse thrumming in her ears. 

"Leaving already?" she asked, her words cutting through the quiet, sharp and defensive, like a last-ditch attempt to hold onto some semblance of control. But the truth was laid bare in the way her voice wavered, betraying her. 

When you turned back, your eyes dark with intention, Natasha felt a shiver run through her. There was no going back now. No retreat. The late hour, the locked door, the quiet hallway—it all felt like you had stepped into another world, one where she didn’t have to hide anymore.

You stepped forward, your presence commanding, and the distance between you seemed to evaporate. Natasha’s breath hitched as you loomed closer, her fists tightening at her sides in a desperate attempt to hold on to the crumbling control she had left.

“We both know you don’t want me to go,” you said, your voice low, carrying a certainty that made her heart pound harder. You weren’t asking; you knew. The truth hung between you like a blade, sharp and undeniable.

She opened her mouth to argue, to push you away, but no words came out. Instead, her body betrayed her, leaning toward you as if it had been waiting for this—waiting for you—to close the gap.

“Why don’t you admit it?” you continued, stepping even closer, your presence overwhelming her senses. Your breath ghosted over her skin, your words digging into the rawness she had kept hidden for so long. “Why don’t you just say what you’ve been dying to say all this time?”

Her jaw clenched, the anger flaring up in her chest like a defence mechanism. "You’re so... infuriating," she bit out, her voice tight with the effort of holding it all in. But you could see it—the vulnerability she was trying to hide, the way her hands trembled slightly at her sides, as if she was on the edge of losing herself completely.

"I know," you whispered, your voice soft, yet heavy with intent as you reached out, your fingers cupping her chin, forcing her to meet your gaze. "But you love it."

And there it was. The truth she had been denying, the one she had tried so hard to bury beneath layers of professionalism and restraint. The truth that scared her, not because of what it was, but because of how deeply it ran. How much she wanted you. How much it terrified her to let herself feel it.

For a second, Natasha’s resolve wavered, her breath catching in her throat as the weight of your words settled between you. Her heart raced, her mind spinning with everything she had fought to suppress, but then your lips crashed against hers, and the last of her defences shattered.

The kiss was fierce, raw, and filled with everything that had built up between you for weeks. Natasha’s hands fisted in your shirt, pulling you closer, desperate and needy, as if the space between you was unbearable. Your lips moved against hers with an intensity that left her dizzy, her mind clouded with the sensation of you—your taste, your warmth, the way your body felt pressed against hers.

She moaned into the kiss, her body arching toward yours, her fingers digging into your chest as if she needed to anchor herself, to keep from drowning in the torrent of emotions flooding her. But then you pulled back, your gaze burning into hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to still.

"Sit on the desk," you commanded, your voice rough, thick with both desire and authority.

Natasha hesitated, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. Her mind screamed at her to stop, to pull back before she lost herself completely, but the fire in your gaze, the undeniable pull between you, left her powerless to resist. Slowly, she stepped back, her legs trembling as she hoisted herself onto the edge of the desk. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, and in that moment, she wasn’t the composed professor anymore. She was just a woman, vulnerable and exposed, her walls finally down.

You moved between her legs, your hands sliding up her thighs, rough and insistent, and Natasha let out a soft gasp, her body responding to your touch without hesitation. Her head tilted back slightly, her lips parting as a shudder ran through her, and in that moment, it wasn’t just about desire—it was about everything that had been left unsaid between you.

The tension, the frustration, the fear—it all came crashing down, and with it, a deep, overwhelming need to let go. To stop fighting. To feel.

As your hands moved over her body, your touch was firm, unrelenting, yet there was something else beneath it. Something raw and emotional, something that made Natasha’s chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with the fact that this wasn’t just some fleeting moment. This was real. You were real. And that scared her more than anything.

Natasha’s breath hitched, her hands gripping the edges of the desk as if she was holding on for dear life. "You have no idea what you do to me," she whispered, her voice shaky, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and desire as she met your gaze.

You paused, your hands resting on her thighs, your expression softening as you leaned in closer, your forehead resting against hers. "I think I do," you murmured, your voice low, intimate, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. "And I’m not going anywhere, Natasha. Not until you let me in."

Her eyes fluttered shut, a shaky breath escaping her lips, and for the first time, she let herself believe it. Believe that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to keep running from this. From you.

"I’m scared," she admitted softly, her voice barely audible, as if the words themselves were too fragile to speak aloud.

"I know," you whispered, your thumb brushing gently over her cheek. "But you don’t have to be."

And in that moment, with the weight of everything hanging between you, Natasha finally let herself fall.

The room was suffused with a quiet tension, the world outside forgotten as you pressed your forehead gently against hers, the warmth of your breath mingling in the air between you. Natasha’s legs had wrapped around your waist almost instinctively, pulling you closer, holding you to her as if letting go meant facing the storm of emotions she had finally let herself feel.

Your hands cupped her face, your touch tender despite the desire simmering just below the surface. You kissed her softly at first, teasingly, your lips brushing against hers with the kind of control that let a shiver run down Natasha’s spine. Her hands, once clenched in anger and frustration, now rested against your soft chest, fingers splayed as if she needed to feel every inch of you, every beat of your heart.

Her breath hitched when you deepened the kiss, your lips parting hers as your tongue slid against hers in slow, deliberate movements. The kiss wasn’t hurried—it was filled with the kind

of longing that had been building for weeks. You poured every unsaid word, every moment of frustration, every bit of want into the way you kissed her, and Natasha responded with a soft moan that she barely managed to keep from escaping. Her thighs tightened around your waist, pulling you even closer.

The kiss grew more fervent, the emotional weight of it intertwining with a heat that neither of you could ignore any longer. Natasha arched toward you, her body pressed against yours, and as your lips moved against hers with growing intensity, you felt her start to lose the composure she had clung to for so long.

You couldn’t help but feel the way her body responded to you—the way her breath hitched in her throat, the way her fingers curled against your chest, desperate for more, yet still trying to maintain control. But the control wasn’t hers anymore, not really. You held it, though gently, almost reverently, as if you knew exactly what Natasha needed and how fragile this moment was.

But then you felt it—her legs tightening around you, pulling you in as your erection pressed against her through the fabric of your clothes. Natasha let out a quiet gasp, her grip on you tightening. Her lips parted against yours, the kiss turning rougher, more desperate, as the heat between you built to a fever pitch. Every kiss, every touch was charged with the intensity of everything that had been bottled up for too long.

Natasha tried to keep herself composed, tried to stifle the soft noises that threatened to spill from her lips, but you could feel her restraint faltering. Her legs squeezed tighter around you, her hips shifting ever so slightly, and you knew she was pushing herself closer to you, needing the friction, needing the closeness.

Your hands slid down from her face, trailing over her neck, her shoulders, until they settled on her waist, pulling her even closer, pressing her against the desk. She let out a shaky breath, her head falling back for a moment as your lips moved to her neck, trailing soft kisses that made her shudder.

Her fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you back up to her lips, and the kiss that followed was anything but soft. It was hungry, needy, filled with a desire that neither of you could hold back anymore. Natasha’s body pressed against yours, her legs keeping you firmly in place as her lips moved with a desperation that matched your own.

The heat between you grew with each second, the tension thick in the air as your hands roamed over her body, tracing the curves of her hips, her waist, as if you were memorising every part of her. The more you touched her, the more she responded, her body arching into your hands, her breath coming in ragged gasps that she struggled to keep quiet.

She bit her lip, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment as she felt your erection press harder against her. The sensation sent a wave of heat through her, and despite the risk of someone walking past, she couldn’t bring herself to care. All she wanted in that moment was you—your touch, your kiss, the feeling of you so close, yet still not close enough.

"Someone could..." she started, her voice barely a whisper, her lips brushing against yours as she tried to find her breath. But the words trailed off, unfinished, as you kissed her again, harder this time, swallowing whatever protest she might have made.

Her body betrayed her, hips pushing up against you, and you felt her legs tighten, pulling you even closer until there was almost no space left between you. The feeling of your erection pressing against her sent a thrill through her body, and despite the slim chance that someone could walk past, she didn’t care anymore. The risk only made it more intoxicating.

Your hands slid to her thighs, gripping them as you pressed her harder against the desk, your kisses growing more frantic, more heated with each second. Natasha’s breath came in shallow gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried—and failed—to keep herself quiet. Her fingers gripped the edges of the desk, her body trembling under your touch, and you could feel how much she needed this, needed you.

Every kiss, every touch was electric, the tension between you finally breaking free, and the feeling of her pulling you closer, the way her body responded to yours, left you both on the edge of something you couldn’t quite control.

"Natasha," you murmured against her lips, your voice thick with emotion, with need, and she responded with a low moan, her body arching into yours, her fingers digging into your back as if she couldn’t bear to let you go.

Her lips parted, her breath hot against your skin as she whispered your name, her voice trembling with the weight of everything she had been holding back. The sound of it—the vulnerability, the need—was enough to undo you, and you kissed her again, deeper this time, pouring everything into that one moment.

As the kiss deepened, the air between you became thick with desire, the heat of the moment pressing against every corner of the small, dimly lit classroom. Natasha was still trembling under your touch, her legs locked around your waist, her chest heaving with shallow breaths as she struggled to keep the rising sounds inside her throat.

You pulled back slowly, the kiss breaking with an audible gasp from Natasha’s lips, her eyes half-lidded with need and confusion as she looked at you. Her grip on your shirt slackened for just a moment, but the fire in her gaze told you she was still desperate, still on edge. But you weren't rushing. Not now.

Without a word, you stood back, your hands lingering on her thighs for just a second longer before you let go completely. Natasha watched you, her breath still unsteady, her brow furrowing as you took a small step away from her. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her body aching from the absence of your touch, but you didn’t rush to fill that space.

Instead, you took your time, letting your gaze travel over her—taking in the way her legs dangled off the edge of the desk, how her skin flushed pink in the soft glow of the classroom’s lights. Natasha was still, frozen almost, waiting for your next move, her body tense with the anticipation of it. Her lips parted, as if to ask why you’d stopped, but the words never came. She didn’t have to say anything. You could see it in her eyes, the way she was balancing on the edge of need, barely holding on.

Slowly, you reached for the hem of your shirt, your fingers slipping under the fabric. Natasha’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes followed your movements, her pulse quickening as you started to undress, the anticipation building between you like a crackling charge.

You didn’t pull the shirt off in one quick motion. Instead, you dragged it over your body slowly, teasingly, lifting it inch by inch, revealing the skin beneath in a sensual, deliberate way that made Natasha’s gaze darken. Her hands gripped the desk behind her, her knuckles white as she watched you. The soft rustle of the fabric was the only sound in the room, aside from the erratic rhythm of her breathing.

As you pulled the shirt over your head, you tossed it aside, letting it fall to the floor without a second thought. Natasha’s eyes followed it for just a moment before flicking back to you, her gaze roaming over the newly exposed skin, drinking in every detail. The controlled, measured way you undressed was a stark contrast to the fire that had been between you just moments before—a slow, sensual display that had Natasha captivated, her body humming with a new kind of tension.

You held her gaze as your hands moved to the waistband of your pants, your fingers slipping just beneath the fabric, teasing at the idea of what was coming next. Natasha’s breath hitched, her eyes locking onto your hands, and you could see the way her body shifted, as if every part of her was straining to get closer to you again. Her legs tightened around the desk, her lips parted as she fought to keep the soft sounds that threatened to escape locked behind her teeth.

With agonising slowness, you began to slide your pants down, revealing the skin beneath inch by inch. Natasha’s chest rose and fell in rapid succession, her eyes tracing every movement of your body. The smooth way you undressed, the control you still held in this moment, was a direct contrast to the way her body had been shaking, the way she had surrendered to the moment so completely. You could see the effect it had on her—the way her breath faltered, the way her fingers flexed against the wood of the desk.

Once your pants pooled around your ankles, you stepped out of them, your movements deliberate, your gaze never leaving hers. Natasha’s eyes were locked on you, her lips trembling with the effort to stay silent, to keep control over herself, even as her body betrayed her, every inch of her skin tingling with the awareness of you standing before her.

You stood there for a moment, letting her take you in, letting her eyes wander over your now half-bare form. The weight of her gaze sent a thrill down your spine, but you didn’t rush. You wanted her to feel this, to burn with the same desire that had been building between the two of you for almost three months.

Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips, and her eyes flicked up to meet yours, filled with a quiet plea. She wanted you—needed you—but you weren’t going to give in just yet. You were in control, and the power of that sent a rush of heat through your veins.

You stepped back toward her, standing between her legs once more, your hands finding her thighs again. Natasha let out a shaky breath as your fingers skimmed the sensitive skin just below the hem of her dress, teasing her without giving her what she wanted. Her body leaned into you, but you held her back, just slightly, enough to keep her wanting.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, your voice soft but heavy with intent. Natasha’s breath caught, her eyes flickering with something vulnerable, something raw.

She tried to respond, but you silenced her with another kiss, your lips moving against hers with the same measured control you’d used to undress. It wasn’t a rough kiss—this time, it was slow, deliberate, your hands sliding up her thighs as your tongue slipped into her mouth, tasting the need she could no longer keep hidden.

Natasha moaned softly, her legs tightening around you again, and you could feel her body trembling under your hands. The kiss grew deeper, more passionate with every second, but you maintained the control, teasing her just enough to keep her on edge, to keep her aching for more.

She could feel your erection pressing against her again, harder now, and the sensation sent a ripple of heat through her body. Her hands moved to your back, nails digging in as she tried to pull you closer, but you resisted, keeping just enough distance to drive her mad. The slow, sensual way you were kissing her contrasted so sharply with the intensity of her need that it left her gasping for air, her body trembling with the effort to hold back.

You broke the kiss, your lips trailing down to her neck, leaving a path of soft, deliberate kisses that made Natasha shudder beneath you. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as you worked your way lower, your hands slipping under her dress, your fingers tracing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, teasing, exploring, but never quite giving her what she craved.

“Tell me what you want,” you murmured against her skin, your lips brushing against her ear, your voice soft and controlled. Natasha let out a quiet whimper, her body arching into you, but you held her back, just enough to keep her from getting what she wanted.

“I… I want you,” she breathed, her voice trembling, her body desperate for more.

But you didn’t give in yet. You wanted her to beg for it, wanted her to show you how much she wanted you.

You tutted softly, feigning disappointment as you gave Natasha a fake pout, shaking your head ever so slightly. “Be more specific, Natasha,” you murmured, your voice laced with teasing command. But beneath your words, there was a tenderness, a patience that had her wavering on the edge.

Natasha’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, her eyes flitting down to avoid your intense gaze. She was struggling, and you could see it—could feel it in the way her body shifted under your touch. No matter how much she wanted this, no matter how desperately she ached for you, she had never been stripped bare of her defences like this. You had torn through her walls, peeling back the layers of control she clung to so tightly. She felt vulnerable, exposed, naked in ways that went far beyond the clothes still clinging to her body.

You could sense it—her hesitation, her fear. And even though she sat before you, legs wrapped around your waist, desire burning in her eyes, you didn’t push her. You didn’t rush her to undress, didn’t demand anything more from her than she was ready to give.

You stood there, your body half-bare, clad in nothing but your bra and boxers. The air between you was charged, the intimacy of the moment so thick it was almost suffocating. Natasha’s eyes flickered over you, taking in your form, her breath catching in her throat. But you didn’t push. You waited.

“I know,” you said softly, your voice breaking the silence but carrying no judgement, only understanding. “I know you’re scared—for your job, for me…” You paused, letting the weight of your words hang between you. You knew her fears, knew the weight of the responsibilities she carried, the precarious line she was walking. But there was something deeper in her fear—something more intimate, more personal. She was scared for you too. Not just of losing you, but of letting you in.

But you knew, even as she struggled to speak, that if it ever came down to it, if she had to choose between you and her job, she would choose you. In a heartbeat. And as you stood there, the tension wrapping tighter around the two of you, the silent communication between your eyes and hers told you something else. Something just as important.

She realised you would choose her too.

For a long moment, the two of you stood in that quiet space, everything unspoken swirling between you, heavy and electric. And then, something in Natasha shifted. Her gaze softened, the fear still there but no longer consuming her. She let go—of her walls, of her control, of the weight she had carried for so long.

Slowly, her hands reached for yours. Her touch was tentative, trembling, but it was real. She pulled you closer, drawing you back into the space between her legs. But this time, there was something different in her movements—something raw and vulnerable, something that took your breath away. She was letting herself go in a way you had never seen her before. No more pretence. No more games.

“Please…” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion, her breath trembling as she spoke. Her words were soft, but the need in them was palpable, heavy with everything she had been holding back. She was incredibly vulnerable in this moment, but so incredibly needy too. And goddamn, she was in love. You could see it in the way her eyes brimmed with tears, in the way her lips quivered as she struggled to keep her composure.

“Please,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, but every word hit you like a wave. “Please… make me feel good. I just want you to be mine,” Natasha’s voice trembled, her hands tightening around yours, as if she feared you might pull away. “Please, I want to be yours.”

Her eyes, wet with unshed tears, searched yours, her vulnerability laid bare, her heart exposed. She had never let anyone in like this, had never given someone this much power over her. But she didn’t care. She just wanted you.

Natasha’s breath was ragged, her eyes glistening with a mixture of desire and vulnerability as she looked up at you. She took a deep, shuddering breath, then reached for your hands with a determined yet trembling grip. Without a word, she guided your hands beneath her white shirt, her movements urgent, as if afraid that if she hesitated for even a moment, the spell between you might break.

Her touch was electric, sending shivers across your skin as she pushed your hands higher. You could feel her body heat through the thin fabric of her shirt, the intensity of her need almost overwhelming. Her fingers skimmed over your chest, her touch both tender and insistent.

As your hands slid up, Natasha’s eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping her lips as she pressed delicate kisses all over your chest. Each kiss was a gentle caress, an exploration of the very essence of you. Her lips traced over your skin with reverence, as if she were discovering a hidden galaxy, a universe of sensations that she had longed to experience.

Her hands cradled your breasts with an almost worshipful tenderness, as if they were celestial treasures—each touch a silent declaration of her adoration. She took her time, savouring every moment, her fingertips dancing over you with a care that spoke volumes about her feelings. It was as if she were tracing constellations across your skin, mapping out a universe that was uniquely hers and yours.

The contrast between her reverent touch and the raw urgency of the moment made the scene even more intense. She pulled back slightly to look at you, her eyes filled with an earnest plea. Her breath was warm against your skin, her gaze pleading as she waited for you to continue.

With a deep breath, you let your hands explore her body with the same reverence she had shown you. You carefully lifted the dress higher, revealing the soft curve of her skin, the blush of her cheeks, the way her breath hitched with every movement. Natasha's kisses became more fervent, her hands clutching you as if you were the only anchor in a vast sea of emotion.

In that intimate space, it was just the two of you—an entire universe wrapped up in the simple act of undressing. The room, the world outside, all faded away, leaving only the connection between your bodies and the boundless emotions that swirled between you.

Natasha’s fingers curled into your hair, a sharp tug that made your breath catch. Her lips hovered near your ear, her voice barely holding steady. “Please,” she whispered, her words shaky, pleading. “Please, make me feel good. I need this. I need you.”

This wasn’t like her. Natasha, your composed and meticulous physics professor, who always had control of her classroom, now looked so vulnerable. She wasn’t supposed to be this undone. Everything about her, the way she carried herself—polished, thoughtful, deliberate—was now unravelling. And yet, once again, she didn’t care.

Her forehead pressed against yours, her grip tightening in your hair. Her breathing was laboured, and the words that escaped her lips were soaked in desperation. “I just… I want to be enough for you,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I want you to want me, to be proud of me.”

This wasn’t the confident professor you’d come to know. Natasha, so careful and in control of everything in her life, was now asking, begging for reassurance. It wasn’t just about desire—it was about being wanted, being worth the risk. She was scared, terrified even, that you wouldn’t see her the same way she saw you. That maybe this was something fleeting for you, something you could walk away from while she’d lose everything.

Her grip on you tightened. The way she repeated “please” over and over made your heart ache. She was so scared of not being enough, of not measuring up to whatever pedestal she thought you had put her on. And deep down, you knew she didn’t need to worry. You would choose her over anything.

Gently, you cupped her face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away the tear that slipped from her eye. “You’re already more than enough, Natasha. I would risk everything for you. You know that.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into your touch, her breathing hitching. It was as though your words had unlocked something fragile inside her, something she had been holding onto for far too long. For the first time, you could see the weight of the fear and uncertainty she’d carried, the fear that she wasn’t worthy of this.

“Please,” she whispered again, this time softer, her voice trembling. “Please, make me yours. I need to feel like I’m enough for you.”

Her hands slid down your back, her touch tentative, hesitant, like she was unsure whether she deserved this moment. But she did. She deserved it more than anyone else.

In that instant, you could feel the depth of her need, her longing not just for physical connection but for the reassurance that she was enough, that she didn’t have to be perfect or in control to be loved by you. She wanted to let go, to give herself fully, and she needed you to guide her there.

Her vulnerability was raw and real, and in this moment, she was yours completely—stripped bare emotionally, more open than she had ever been. You knew then that you had her trust, her heart.

Natasha should have been nervous about where she was, the risks it posed to both of you, but instead, she felt enveloped in a warmth that only you could give her. The building was empty, but even if it wasn’t, she didn’t care.

Guided by Natasha’s hands, you slowly sank to your knees, the weight of the moment thick in the air between you. Your eyes stayed locked on hers, searching for any sign that she might want to stop, that this was too much, too fast. But all you saw was trust—raw, vulnerable trust, like she was giving you a part of herself no one else had ever seen.

The vulnerability in her eyes only heightened your need to make sure she felt safe, to reaffirm that she had control even as she was letting go. Your hands reached for the hem of her dress—the sleek, black number she had worn that night in class, the same one she wore when she looked untouchable, unshakable. You hiked it up slowly, deliberately, the fabric slipping through your fingers like silk, revealing more of her bare skin.

Natasha’s breath hitched as you ran your hands up her thighs, feeling the heat radiating from her body. You could feel the tension in her muscles, the way her legs trembled slightly under your touch, not just from desire but from the emotional weight of what was happening between you. She wanted this, but more than that, she needed this—to be seen, to be wanted, to be adored, stripped of all the defences she’d spent so long building up.

You pressed a soft kiss against her thigh, your fingers tracing patterns up and down her skin, feeling her shudder beneath you. With each touch, each kiss, you could feel her letting go a little more, surrendering herself to the moment, to you. Her hands threaded through your hair again, but this time the tug wasn’t urgent—it was grounding, a silent request for reassurance, for connection.

Looking up at her, you whispered, "Are you okay with this, Natasha?" The question lingered in the air, but it was necessary, and you wouldn’t move forward without hearing her answer.

Her gaze met yours, her eyes softened by the vulnerability she was allowing herself to feel. She nodded, her lips parting as she whispered back, "Yes. I’m okay. I want this... I want you."

Your heart swelled at her words, at the trust she was placing in you.

You pressed gentle kisses against Natasha’s thighs, each one slower, more deliberate than the last. Her skin was warm under your lips, and the slight tremor in her legs didn’t go unnoticed. You were attuned to every detail—her breathing, the way her fingers tightened and loosened in your hair, the soft, barely audible sounds that escaped her lips as you kissed your way higher.

Despite the growing ache between your own legs, a steady pulse of need that had been building from the moment you had locked eyes, you focused on her. This wasn’t just about desire. It was about trust, about showing her that this—what was happening between you—wasn't just a fleeting moment. You wanted her to feel worthy, to feel adored and cared for, not like she was some fleeting impulse or a fantasy you would walk away from once it was over.

You wanted her to know that you weren’t going anywhere.

Your lips moved higher, brushing just above her knees, and then along the sensitive skin at the top of her thighs. You could hear her breath hitch as you got closer to her core, the anticipation tightening in the air. You paused, pressing a soft kiss just above her panties, teasing but gentle, taking your time to savour the moment, making sure Natasha knew you were fully present for her.

Your hands slid around to the back of her thighs, gripping softly as you kissed her through the delicate fabric of her panties. The sound she made—half a sigh, half a moan—tugged at your heart, and you pressed harder, letting your tongue trace the dampness growing against the lace.

Natasha’s fingers gripped your hair more firmly, a silent plea for more, but you stayed steady, slow, ensuring that every touch was careful, deliberate. She needed to feel safe, to feel cherished, before you let your own needs take over. You wanted to show her that this wasn’t just physical—it was so much more.

As your hands gently tugged the waistband of her panties down, Natasha's breath came in shallow bursts. You kissed her hips, then her pelvis, before finally brushing your lips against her core. She gasped, and her legs instinctively parted wider to give you more room. The heat between her legs was intoxicating, but you didn’t rush.

With a slow, careful movement, you licked her, softly at first, feeling her body react to the touch. Her hips shifted, seeking more, but you kept your pace tender and intentional. Your tongue explored her slowly, taking in the taste of her, feeling the way her body responded to you—her quiet gasps, the way her fingers tightened their hold in your hair, her thighs trembling slightly under your hands.

Despite your own body screaming for release, you didn’t let that overpower the moment. This was for Natasha. You wanted her to feel good, to feel everything she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for so long. You wanted her to understand that she could trust you with this—trust you with herself.

You focused on every sound she made, adjusting your movements based on the way her body responded. When her breath hitched, you applied more pressure, your tongue flicking against her more insistently, but still not rushing. You could feel her unravelling beneath you, the tension in her body slowly giving way to pleasure.

Her legs wrapped tighter around your head, pulling you closer, and you didn’t resist. The sensation of her pressed against your mouth, her need so palpable, only fueled your determination to make her feel good. Her breaths were becoming more erratic, the moans she was trying to suppress growing louder.

"Please," she whispered, her voice trembling, barely audible above the sound of her own gasps. "Please… don’t stop."

You didn’t. You let yourself go deeper, licking and sucking at her, increasing the intensity as her hips began to move in rhythm with you. Her fingers were tugging harder at your hair now, a frantic edge to her movements, but you didn’t let go of the tenderness. Even as the intensity built, you wanted her to feel how much this meant—to both of you. That you weren’t going to turn away or leave her.

Natasha’s breathing was ragged now, her body tightening with the approach of her climax, and you could feel her surrendering fully to the moment, to you. And that—knowing she trusted you enough to let go completely—was more satisfying than anything else.

With one last flick of your tongue, Natasha’s body tensed, and she cried out softly, her thighs trembling as waves of pleasure washed over her. You didn’t pull away immediately, continuing to kiss and soothe her through her release, letting her ride out every last tremor.

When her body finally relaxed, her breathing still uneven, you pressed a gentle kiss against her thigh before looking up at her. Natasha’s eyes were glazed, her expression softened by exhaustion and satisfaction. You reached up, taking her hands in yours again, squeezing them gently to remind her—this was real, and you were still here.

"You okay?" you whispered, your voice soft, filled with the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Natasha nodded, her lips curving into a small, tired smile, her fingers still tangled in your hair. "Yeah," she whispered back, her voice shaky but content. "I’m more than okay."

She glanced down at you, still kneeling before her, and her face flushed red. Her heart raced, not from fear, but from a sense of vulnerability she’d never allowed herself to feel before. Her eyes roamed over your body, lingering on the curve of your jaw, the softness in your gaze. That contrast—the way you held all the control yet treated her with such care—it was intoxicating. She bit her lip, her chest swelling with emotions she didn’t quite know how to express. For the first time, she felt seen, cherished, and safe, even in a situation that should have felt anything but.

A small smirk tugged at her lips as she gently pressed her palm against the bulge in your boxers. Your reaction was immediate—your body tensed slightly, a soft groan escaping your lips as the wet patch of precum dampened her hand. She rubbed you a little harder, enjoying the way your breath hitched with each motion. The control was shifting, and she revelled in it, taking her time as she palmed you through the thin fabric.

Your hips bucked slightly in response, the pleasure building quickly, but just as you felt yourself nearing the edge, Natasha pulled her hand away. A quiet, frustrated groan left your throat, but there was no impatience in your eyes. You stayed gentle, your hand reaching up to tangle in her hair, tugging softly as you guided her downward.

Natasha’s body complied, and she sank to her knees, her eyes flickering up to meet yours as she settled between your legs. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of your boxers, pulling them down with a slow, deliberate motion, exposing your hardened length. Her hand wrapped

around you, the warmth of her touch sending a shiver down your spine. She started slow, her strokes gentle but firm, building up the tension with a skilled precision that made your knees weak.

Each pump of her hand was designed to drive you higher, her touch alternating between feather-light and tight enough to have you gasping. You could see the small smirk still lingering on her lips, the way her cheeks flushed with a deep crimson, and it only fueled the fire inside you.

Her hand moved faster, and you gritted your teeth, trying to hold back the inevitable release, but it was too much. Natasha had you right where she wanted you, and she knew it. The pressure built inside you like a dam about to break, and just as the wave crested, you tugged her hair a little harder, pulling her face closer to your body as you came.

Your release spilled over her face, thick and hot, streaking her cheeks and lips like stars spreading across a midnight sky. It was a mess, but in the mess, there was beauty—something raw, visceral. The universe had always been a chaotic, unpredictable expanse, but in that moment, Natasha wore it on her skin. She was your universe, painted in a way that symbolised everything wild and untamed that existed between you.

Her breaths were heavy, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt the warmth of you settle on her skin. There was a softness in her expression, even as she wiped the edge of her mouth with the back of her hand. And you…you stood there, still panting, gazing down at her with a reverence that went beyond the physical. She had laid herself bare, given herself fully to you, and in return, you had shared something far deeper than lust.

Natasha’s eyes fluttered open, locking onto yours. She smiled, a mixture of mischief and something tender playing across her lips as she wiped a bit more from her cheek, still blushing. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation in her gaze—just the raw, undeniable connection between you both, as unshakable as the stars scattered across a vast sky.

Natasha's hand wrapped around your still half-erect shaft, her touch soft but purposeful as she began to pump you once again. The sensation shot through you, making you groan, the sound deep and raw in your throat. Your fingers, which had been gripping her hair tightly, loosened their hold, trailing down to softly cradle her cheeks. Her skin was warm beneath your palms, her flushed face a stark contrast to the cool air in the room.

She looked up at you, a playful, mischievous glint in her eyes, as if daring you to see how much further she could take you. With your hands still holding her face, her lips parted, and she opened her mouth, slowly taking you in. The sensation of her mouth wrapping around you, warm and wet, was like being pulled into the gravity of a star, the intensity almost overwhelming.

Natasha’s mouth moved with deliberate slowness, her tongue pressing flat against you as she took more of you in, inch by inch. You could feel every flicker of her tongue, every slight shift in pressure as her mouth tightened around you, pulling you deeper into her orbit. Her hands gripped your thighs, steadying herself as she hollowed her cheeks, the heat of her breath seeping into your skin, warming you from the inside out.

It was like being caught between two worlds—one of gentleness, where her every touch was soft and careful, and another of fire, where the raw need she had for you crackled with intensity. You felt it in the way she moved, in the way her lips wrapped around you with precision, and in the quiet hunger that radiated from her. It wasn’t just about lust anymore—it was about trust, about the connection that had been building between the two of you for so long, and now, like the universe itself, it was expanding, becoming something deeper, something untouchable.

Each slow, purposeful motion of her mouth sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. You couldn’t help but groan again, your breath hitching as you felt the pressure building once more. Her eyes stayed locked on yours, the heat in them undeniable, as if she was silently communicating her own need to make you feel just as exposed, just as vulnerable as she had felt moments before.

The room around you seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you, suspended in this moment—her mouth on you, your hands gently holding her face, and the sensation that seemed to stretch out into eternity.

Natasha began to take you deeper, her movements growing more deliberate and intense as her mouth slid down your length. The wet warmth of her lips surrounded you, and you couldn’t hold back the deep, guttural groan that escaped from your chest. Each time she lowered her head, the sensation grew sharper, her tongue flicking and teasing, heightening your arousal with every motion.

As she pushed herself further down, a sudden gag escaped her, the tightness around you momentarily breaking your control. Instinctively, your hands gripped her head, your hips bucking forward, pressing her down harder onto your cock. Natasha’s eyes fluttered shut, her throat constricting as she tried to adjust to your deeper thrusts, her own need and willingness written on her expression. The way she surrendered to your touch, her hands clutching your thighs, sent a jolt of raw desire through you, and you couldn’t stop your hips from moving on their own.

You released inside her mouth with a powerful groan, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Natasha stayed still, her mouth still wrapped around you, catching every drop. Your mind swam in the aftermath, the weight of the moment heavy around you, pulling you back to reality. As your eyes finally cleared, you saw the tears streaming down her cheeks, her lips still wrapped around your sensitive cock as she continued to suck, more tenderly now.

For a moment, worry flared in your chest, but she hummed softly around you, her hands gently caressing your legs, letting you know she was okay. It wasn’t pain—it was something else entirely. Her soft, rhythmic movements, the gentle suction, and the sound of her contentment vibrated through you. The tears weren't ones of discomfort, but something deeper—relief, happiness, a kind of release that matched the intensity of what you both had shared.

You ran your fingers through her hair, murmuring softly to her, "Are you okay? You're safe, Natasha." She hummed again, reassuring you with the vibrations from her throat, her lips curving ever so slightly against your skin, a sign of her quiet joy.

But then, you felt it again—that mischievous glint flashing in her eyes as she gave one more sharp suck, her tongue swirling expertly around your sensitive tip, pushing you to the brink of overstimulation. The sudden intensity made you gasp, and before you could recover, she pulled back, a thin string of saliva and your release still connecting her lips to your cock. The playful smirk tugged at her lips as she wiped her face with the back of her hand, her breath heavy, her eyes dancing with both satisfaction and hunger.

Then, with a delicate, almost bashful movement, Natasha turned around, leaning forward over the desk. Her dress clung to her curves, the hem still hiked up, and she bent over just enough to leave no question about what she wanted. She looked over her shoulder at you, her expression shifting from tentative sweetness to something more daring, though still tinged with a vulnerability that tugged at your heart. Her eyes, though, betrayed her—the sheer need burning there, her desire clear as day.

With a small smile that could only be described as cute, she spoke without words, her body doing the asking. There was an unspoken invitation in her posture, and despite the vulnerability she showed, there was also a trust between you now that felt unbreakable.

You couldn’t help but smile as you approached Natasha, your hands sliding over her soft backside before trailing up her back, fingers ghosting over the fabric of her dress. The way she trembled beneath your touch, her body so attuned to your movements, made your heart race. As you moved closer, your hand brushed over the slick coating her inner thighs, and it told you everything you needed to know—she was ready, aching for you.

With slow, deliberate care, you guided yourself to her entrance, gently pushing inside. Natasha let out a sharp gasp, her body welcoming you with almost no resistance, her slick warmth enveloping you. Her walls fluttered and clenched around you, adjusting to your length and girth, pulling you in deeper with every inch. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect balance of tightness and softness, and you could feel her heartbeat in sync with yours, every pulse of her body crying out for more.

As you buried yourself inside her, Natasha’s moans grew louder, unrestrained, filling the quiet classroom with sounds that felt like music to your ears. Her usual control had vanished, leaving her raw and exposed, her voice trembling with need as she called out your name. Each thrust, slow but firm, drew a new sound from her lips, her body arching beneath you as she struggled to hold onto the desk for support.

The way she moaned for you now, louder, uninhibited, sent shivers down your spine. It wasn’t just the pleasure that drove her—it was the trust, the connection, the vulnerability she had offered you in this moment. You leaned down, your breath hot against her ear as you whispered softly, "You sound so beautiful, Natasha."

Her only response was a broken, desperate moan, her head dropping forward as you moved within her. The walls of the room seemed to close in, making the world smaller, more intimate, as if it was only the two of you and the sensation that swirled between you. Each thrust seemed to melt away another layer of resistance, and Natasha met you with every movement, her hips rocking back to match your rhythm, her moans growing more frenzied as the intensity built.

Her body was a symphony of sensations, her sounds, her movements, the way she clenched around you driving you to the brink of your own control. Still, you remained gentle, each motion filled with purpose, ensuring she felt every bit of the love, trust, and pleasure you wanted to give her.

“Harder, please… more,” Natasha’s voice came out in a breathless plea, her desperation cutting through the heavy air. The need in her tone left no doubt in your mind; she wanted you to let go, to give her everything. You smiled softly, your slow and deliberate thrusts transitioning into something rougher, more intense.

Each movement brought a new sound from her lips—a mix of moans, gasps, and whimpers that drove you to the edge of control. You could feel her body tightening around you, the slick warmth of her drawing you deeper, her hips pressing back in perfect rhythm with each thrust. Her hands gripped the desk hard enough to turn her knuckles white, as if she needed to hold onto something solid amidst the storm of pleasure crashing through her.

You gave her what she wanted, your pace picking up, the gentle strokes turning into something rougher. Each thrust was harder, your hips slamming into hers as the intensity between you mounted. The sounds coming from between your bodies—skin meeting skin, the wetness of her arousal—filled the room, combining with her increasingly frantic moans. Every whimper, every desperate noise that fell from her lips only pushed you to move faster, harder, deeper.

Natasha’s voice was growing ragged, her pleas becoming a chant, “More… harder… please,” her tone dripping with need. You obliged, giving her everything she asked for, pounding into her with abandon. Her walls clenched tighter around you with each thrust, her body trembling as she neared the edge, her moans becoming louder, more frantic.

The sight of her—the way her body surrendered beneath you, the sounds of her pleasure—was driving you wild. You could feel yourself nearing your own breaking point, but this moment wasn’t just about you. It was about her, about making her feel as desired, as safe, and as loved as she deserved.

Natasha’s body bucked against you, her voice rising with each thrust, her moans spilling into the air like a symphony of raw emotion. The intensity of it all, the connection, the overwhelming pleasure, it was almost too much, but you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop.

You didn’t stop even as Natasha’s body quaked beneath you, her release crashing over her like a tidal wave, every nerve ending igniting in pure ecstasy. With a firm grip on her hair, you pulled back gently, a primal instinct guiding your actions. The sharp gasp that escaped her lips sent a thrill coursing through you, an electric reminder of the connection you shared. Tears streamed down her cheeks, reflections of the intensity of her pleasure, and the sight of her vulnerability only stoked the fire deep within you.

“Please… don’t stop,” she breathed, her voice trembling with desperation and longing. “I need you—everything.”

You felt her walls tighten around you, each clench pulling you deeper into the bliss of the moment. Every thrust became more urgent, more fervent, as you moved in perfect sync with her. Her hips met yours in a relentless rhythm, the sounds of your bodies colliding filling the air—a raw symphony of skin against skin, punctuated by her soft cries and your deep, primal grunts.

“Stay inside me,” she gasped, urgency lacing her tone like a sweet poison. “I want to feel you.”

Obeying her plea, you surrendered to the pressure that had built within you, a wave of heat surging as your release burst forth, filling her completely. The sensation was intoxicating, a heady mix of pleasure and possession that pushed Natasha over the edge once more. You felt her body tremble as she milked you dry, every pulse and contraction sending shockwaves through both of you. The warmth of your climax mingled with hers, slick and overwhelming, trickling down to the back of her thighs and pooling against your own.

As your bodies connected in this beautiful aftermath, you slowed your movements, wanting to savour every moment. The world outside ceased to exist; there was only the two of you, entwined in an intimate cocoon of warmth and intimacy. Her breath came in soft, ragged gasps, and you could see the remnants of pleasure flickering in her eyes, a mix of satisfaction and lingering desire.

You shifted your hands from her hair, cradling her waist, grounding her as the waves of pleasure began to recede. With each slow thrust, you relished the way she responded, her body trembling beneath you, as if she was still lost in the echoes of her release. You leaned down, brushing your lips softly against her forehead, whispering sweet reassurances that enveloped her like a gentle embrace.

“Natasha…” you murmured, your voice low and filled with admiration. The corners of her mouth lifted slightly, a shy smile breaking through the haze of bliss.

She looked up at you, her gaze filled with warmth and something deeper, a connection that transcended the physical. “I never knew it could be like this,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it resonated with profound sincerity.

In that moment, you knew that this wasn’t just about desire; it was about trust, intimacy, and a bond that felt unbreakable. You both lay there, intertwined, sharing the warmth of your bodies and the lingering aftermath of your shared ecstasy, each heartbeat echoing the promise of what was still to come.

As the world slowly came back into focus around you, you could feel Natasha’s breath steadying, a calm settling over both of you. You caressed her cheek, wiping away the tears of pleasure, feeling an overwhelming sense of tenderness for the woman before you. With each soft kiss and gentle touch, you knew that this was just the beginning of something beautifully complicated.

a/n- whew, that was a ride. thank you so much for your request, anon, i loved writing it, and although i suppose it isn't exactly what you had in mind, i hope you still liked it! for all of you who keep supporting me as i slowly figure out how to use this platform again, thank you so much. all reblogs and comments are appreciated! the love on my last fic had me overwhelmed x

[absurdthirst]

The Future of Rome {Marcus Acacius x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 16.6k

Warnings: Mentions of orgies, whores, cuckolding, voyeurism, oral sex (male and female receiving), cream pie, breeding, mentions of feeding kink, vaginal sex, pregnancy, betrayal, conspiracy, murder

Comments: When Caracalla is unable to father a child on you, his empress, he enlists General Marcus Acacius to be his proxy between your thighs. Needing his general's seed in his efforts to father the next ruler of Rome.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Marcus Acacius MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you watch as your husband, Emperor Caracalla of Rome, paces in the large room, screaming and shouting like an overgrown child. At times, it feels like that is what he is, a child. A man child who controls the largest empire in the world, alongside his brother Geta. The two of them engaged in squabbles that would have all of the citizens of Rome demanding new leadership if they knew of them. “You must carry a child!” He hisses, turning and glaring at you as if you are at fault for the monthly flow of blood that comes between your thighs like clockwork. “How have you not been bred yet? I fill you nearly every week.” His eyes narrow and he stops his stride to turn towards you. “Are you doing something? Taking some tonic to prevent a child from growing?” 

You sigh, shaking your head. “Of course I would not.” You tell him. “It is my duty to provide you with an heir. Before Geta.” You know your husband wishes to best his brother by having a child before he does. “You are still fucking your concubines.” You remind him. “None of them have fallen pregnant with your bastard. Perhaps your seed is bad.” You could be risking his wrath by telling him what no hippocrates would, but he has never sired one bastard and he indulges in orgies and women all the time. You have no love for the husband you had been forced to marry by your father in return for Rome not destroying your homelands.

Caracalla’s eyes grow wide and he hisses, striding over to you and you brace yourself as he hits you across the face with the back of his hand. You gasp and he looms over you, “you dare to insult me like that, uxor? I am divine. Ordained by the gods and you are? Some whore daughter of a King who wilted under the glory of the Roman army. You are fortunate I chose you to be Empress. An honor I bestow upon you and you have the gall to question my seed.” He rants but he knows you could be true. He longs to have an heir before his brother and even if he fucks you every day, you still bleed. He has never fathered a bastard. You cup your cheek, keeping your head down and he sighs, “we must seek a solution.” He declares, frowning as he considers his options to ensure he beats his brother to the heir.

You bite your lip to keep from crying, knowing that tears would only incense the man you are married to even more. Caracalla does not like to see you cry, even if he is cruel and cutting. When he punishes you for any perceived slight. Tears are a sign of weakness in his eyes and he will not have you shed them in his presence. “What solution would you have?” You know he cannot seek out a healer, the risk of rumor would be too great. Any kind of whisper about this would make its way back to Geta. 

He paces in front of the balcony, the linens flowing in the breeze. “I need an heir who will be strong, a fighter. I need a boy. I need you to give birth to the next heir. We need to ensure that you get pregnant as soon as possible.” He murmurs, speaking his mind and he finally turns to you. “We need to have someone else get you pregnant. We need - General Marcis Acacius.” He declares, eyes wide.

You frown, trying to recall what the man looks like. He has been away from Rome for nearly two years, since just after you had married Caracalla. “He looks nothing like you.” You point out.

“I don’t need him to look like me. I need a boy and he’s a strong fighter. He will give our child the characteristics he needs to lead Rome and her army.” He declares, “you will fuck him when he returns.” He orders and you swallow harshly, knowing you will struggle to have relations with a man that isn’t your husband but you have no choice but to do as he demands.

“I will gift you to him to fuck.” He continues on, a wild and honestly frightening smile splitting his face. “It will be an honor, for fighting so valiantly for Rome.” He isn’t talking to you, but rather plotting out what will happen. You can’t quite recall what Marcus Acacius looks like, but you hope that he will be quick to cum like Caracalla, or at least his seed will take root quickly.

****

Marcus looks up at the marbled entrance as he arrives at the palace to meet the Emperors and tell them about his success in person. He’s sent messengers but he must tell them of his accomplishments rather than be allowed to return to his home to relax. He sighs as he adjusts the white and gold tunic and armor that suffocates him. It’s for display, not ideal for battle, and he knows the Emperors will have a feast planned soon after his report and he’s expected to be on display. He scratches his cheek as he is escorted through the halls until he arrives in the grand hall where the Emperors are waiting. He strides to stand before them and bows his head, “Rome is in your hands.” He vows, “we have conquered Africa.” He announces, “for you and for Rome.”

Dressed in snowy white silk and gold, you are sitting off to the side, ignored by your husband and brother as they had waited for the general’s approach. You had heard the crowds outside the palace, the roars echoing dimly and you sat up slightly from the chaise when the doors had opened. Finding a much different man than you had expected walking confidently towards them. He’s older than you remembered, but his gray hair is still pleasant as it mixes with his darker locks. He’s handsome, not the sharp nosed beauty of your fair husband, but darker, broader. His nose is curved and his eyes are the color of night from where you sit. You want to see them up close. He’s large, larger than Caracalla and you wonder if you are the whore some have whispered you must be, for you want to see what this man would be like inside you.

Caracalla cannot let his brother know his plan. No one can know. Geta greets Marcus who bows his head and his dark eyes flick over to you for a moment. When you arrived at the palace you were reluctant to marry Caracalla. He remembers hearing the rumors of your attempts to escape, and the way Caracalla treats you from guards that he served with. He clenches his jaw, standing up straight and the Emperors sing his praises so he offers them polite smiles. He’s sick of war. He’s tired of fighting an endless battle for more land when the Roman Empire is struggling. People cannot eat. Men are dying. It’s an endless grab for power and the Emperors are not fighting for it themselves. “Tonight, we feast in your honor.” Geta declares, clapping Marcus on the back and he follows the Emperors to the head table where he will sit while the court and the senate celebrate his success.

When his eyes land on yours, a shiver races through your body. This is a man who has seen death. Dealt out harsh punishments and narrowly survived. He’s much more rugged, raw. So different from your spoiled and foppish husband. He should be a leader for Rome, rather than a man who has never seen war. You are ignored, so you undrape yourself from your seat and slowly stroll into the hall to join the festivities.

Marcus notices you as you sit down beside your husband and he’s taken back by how beautiful you are but he also sees the sadness in your eyes. The lifeless stare across the room tells him you’re lonely while your husband guzzles wine and cheers for the victory he played no physical part in. He does as is expected, eating and drinking his fill but he thinks about the starvation he witnessed, the poverty that the empire has caused from taxing too much and forcing more war on its people. “We shall acquire whores to pleasure you, General.” Geta insists, “you will be serviced until you feel rewarded for your victory for Rome.” The court cheers and Caracalla then leans in towards you, “return to your room. I want you ready to take the general.” He commands, whispering in your ear.

You don’t sigh, nodding and leaning in to kiss his cheek for show before you stand up and walk out of the room without looking back. Knowing the Emperor, he will want you nude and wearing some of the jewels that had been sent back to Rome as tribute. You have already been bathed and perfumed by your servants in anticipation of your husband fucking you tonight, but Caracalla always demands privacy in the wing of the palace you live in. His oddity will work in his favor for concealing who is planting his seed in your belly tonight.

Marcus is ready to head home when Caracalla whispers in his ear, “I wish to speak privately.” Marcus frowns as he pulls back to look into the manic eyes of the emperor and he knows he can never deny him. He nods and stands with the emperor. He bows to Geta even though the other emperor is busy with his tongue down a whore’s throat as the festivities begin. Caracalla dismisses his guards with a wave of his hand and he guides Marcus through the halls until he enters his private chambers. Marcus is anxious, wondering if the emperor is going to kill him even though the idea is laughable. He’s been a man of luxury. Only carrying a sword for show and never for battle. The emperor still doesn’t speak as he strides over to the doors and he opens them to display you on the bed naked and draped in jewels, a nervous look on your face. “What is the meaning of this?” Marcus demands, confused and wanting to leave to retire to his villa. Not to play games.

“I tried to imagine what kind of reward a man of your talents would enjoy.” Caracalla hums as he smirks victoriously. You are a gorgeous creature and he knows that the man will have no problem mounting you. “Whores are too boring, they have had too many men, been soiled by their pleasures.” He takes Marcus’s shoulders and turns him back towards you and the bed. “But an Empress’s cunt? She’s only had one other cock. She’s practically pure and it’s tight.” He chuckles. “My brother gives you a common whore to fuck, I give you a royal cunt.” Again, it’s a competition between the brothers and he’s determined to best Geta.

Marcus’s eyes widen at the Emperor’s offer and he looks over at you. His cock twitches under his tunic at the way you’re on display for him, but he wonders if this is some kind of test from the emperor. He swallows harshly and looks back at Caracalla. “You honor me but I am - I am satisfied with whores. I do not want to sully the empress with my - with my body. She is divine and deserves to be fucked by a man like you, a man chosen by the gods.”

You lift a brow, wondering what the Emperor will say to that. Would he admit that he has been unsuccessful in breeding you? That there is something wrong with him? Or will he blame it on you? There is no telling with Caracalla. You shift to your knees, spread apart on the bed so he can get a good look at your body.

Marcus’s cock twitches again, hardening as your breasts bounce and he swallows harshly, averting his eyes once again. “I don’t - I don’t understand.” Marcus admits, knowing that only the emperor can fuck the empress to get her with child. “I want you to fuck my uxor and I want to watch.” Caracalla confesses, “and I want you to spill your seed inside of her.”

His eyes slide over your body again and you can see the way his cock is starting to lift the fabric of his tunic. Your nipples are hardening because you are enticing this war-hardened general. “The emperor is very generous.” You tell Marcus, sliding a hand up to cup one tit. “He has never been one to share and yet he wishes to honor his general.” You don’t mention why he would want such a thing. “Do you not like cunt?” You ask, wondering if he might prefer the boys in the bath houses. You have heard rumors of some senators who often prefer the company of men than their wives. Perhaps the general is one of them.

Marcus shakes his head, “no. I- I do. It’s just -” He looks at Caracalla, “you’re the empress and I cannot - the heir cannot be from anyone but the emperor.” Marcus reasons and Caracalla reaches out to squeeze his shoulder, “you have to understand, General, I am asking you to fill up my wife. We have been unsuccessful in our venture to have an heir and I must beat my brother to it. I wish for you to spill your seed inside my empress…regardless of the consequences.” He declares and Marcus’s eyes widen slightly as he understands what is being asked of him.

You can see that Marcus Acacius is not a foolish man, he understands the danger he has found himself in. He cannot deny the Emperor, and he could never speak of it. “Maritus.” You murmur softly, bringing his attention back to you. “Tell the general what kind of son you wish to have.”

Caracalla senses Marcus’s panic and he smirks, “I want a warrior son. Someone who will be strong and fight for Rome, to protect our line.” He says even though he knows the child would not be his blood. “The name. My name must continue through him. I want a gladiator and you possess those traits. I wish for my son to have them. Do you wish to fill my beautiful wife with your seed and produce the next heir to the Roman Empire?” He asks even though he knows no one says no to the emperor.

You can see that Marcus is torn. He can’t say no, just like you could not run away from him when he had decided to take you as his empress. “He is handsome.” You coo. “Strong. He will put a son you will be proud of in my belly.” You tell your husband. “While enjoying himself by having an empress spread her thighs for him.”

Marcus knows he can’t refuse. He must fuck you and you’re a beautiful woman but he prays to the gods that the emperor doesn’t change his mind and punish you or him after the act is complete. “As my emperor wishes.” He nods and Caracalla claps, “excellent. My uxor will strip you. I wish to watch the act.” He says, spinning to make his way to the chair in the corner. Marcus is shocked that the man wants to watch but he doesn’t deny him, knowing that could be his head. He nods and walks over to the bed, waiting for your move.

Sliding off the bed, you stand straight, unashamed of your nudity. You might have only had Caracalla as a lover, but he often wanted you nude to just gaze upon you while you were together. You reach for the golden laurel on his head and remove it gently. “Tonight we will see if your prowess in battle is matched by your vigor in bed.” You smile at him, wanting to make sure he doesn’t change his mind. “If your cock truly is as big as your sword.” You giggle. “Some of the women you have fucked talk.”

Marcus’s cock is hardening with your words and your touch. You are one of the most beautiful women in the empire, if not the most, and Marcus is not immune to your beauty. You set his laurel down and Caracalla takes his place in the corner of the room. He flusters at his reputation and wonders what you will think of him. If he lives up to the rumors.

You try to forget your husband is watching, concentrating on the man in front of you. The gold wrist cuffs come off and you wonder if he would prefer the unadorned look. Rather than being weighed down by the ostentatious trappings of his role. You know you would rather live simply. “Relax, General.” You hum quietly. “The emperor has taught me how to please him. Hopefully I will please you as well.”

Marcus is nervous, anxious, and every emotion a man can be when he’s being used for his seed and watched as he pleasures the wife of one of the most powerful men in the empire. He keeps his hands by his sides until you reach for the hem of his tunic. He’s ashamedly hard, unable to be anything but when you are in front of him. You smell delicious and he knows he’d be diving into your cunt if you came to his home without your status and stature.

Biting your lip, you lift the tunic to reveal his hard cock and you moan softly. “Step back, let me look.” Caracalla demands and you turn to the side to show the emperor his cock. “He is very well endowed.” Your husband smirks. “Good. I would hate for my son to have a less than impressive cock.” He is very proud of his own, even if he is not as thick as Marcus. You reach down and brush your finger over the length as you pull the tunic over his head.

He hisses when your fingers brush his length and you smirk, tossing his tunic aside. Caracalla often indulges in men when he is in the throes of an orgy and he is impressed by the general. His shoulders are broad and muscular. Strong arms. Tapered waist and a full head of hair, albeit graying, even in his ripe age. This is the man who could sire him a son who would be legendary in Rome. “Kiss him.” Caracalla demands, wanting to be in control even if it is not his seed securing his lineage.

You lick your lips, leaning in and press your lips to the slightly chapped ones of the general. You sense his hesitation, knowing that he is unsure of the motives behind this. Instead of pulling back, you press your breasts against his chest, feeling the light hairs covering his skin tickle you.

His fingers flex and Caracalla chuckles, “you can touch her, General.” There’s the permission Marcus needs. His hands slide along your back, pulling you even closer and one hand slides up your body to cup your cheek, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. His tongue finds yours and you squeak, unused to such aggressive kissing. Caracalla likes softer especially when he’s wanting the opposite of his lovers or orgies.

Your husband hums, reaching for his wine with one hand and reaching down to squeeze his cock with the other. If it would not potentially ruin the chances of you conceiving a child, he would join you. See how Marcus kisses. Instead, he takes pleasure in knowing that the most powerful general in his army is following his orders even off the battlefield.

Marcus groans into your mouth, his hand sliding down to squeeze your ass while he grips the back of your neck. He’s relieved that he sought the company of a whore before arriving back in Rome. He would embarrass himself if he were pent up. He loves the way your fingers tangle in his hair and he is glad to see the empress is not shy about taking what she wants.

The emperor very rarely lets you do what you wish, so this is a new experience for you and you are greedy for it. “Get on your knees.” The order comes from behind you and makes you pull away. Aware that Caracalla will still try to dictate the way you are fucked. “Let the general see you on your knees before him and feel your mouth around his cock.”

Marcus inhales sharply as he watches you sink to your knees in front of him. His sandals are still on his feet while his cock throbs from arousal. Your eyes are sultry as you look up at him,  looking like Venus herself. He swallows and hisses softly when you wrap your fingers around his cock.

You squeeze him gently, feeling him throb in your hand and you roll back the foreskin. You have pleasured your husband like this countless times and he claims you are good at it, so hopefully you don’t disappoint the general. Leaning forward, you press your tongue flat against the tip and then curl it around the head as you take him into your mouth. The general has bathed, so he tastes clean and musky.

His fingers flex by his side as you take him into your mouth. He groans quietly but Caracalla shakes his head, "I want to hear how my empress is making you feel." He demands and Marcus nods, groaning louder when you take him deeper into your mouth. "Fuck." He curses, his hand finding your cheek as he looks down at you.

You hum at his rough praise, feeling the way his hips slightly rock, like he wants to take control and fuck your mouth. Taking him deeper, you moan when the first spurt of his salty seed hits your tongue, a little treat to tell you he is enjoying it.

His eyes flutter closed as he loses himself in the feel of your mouth around his cock. He can tell you’re not as experienced as the whores he has had but you are enthusiastic and he fucking loves that. “Open your eyes, Acacius.” Caracalla orders, wanting to see the pleasure on the man’s face.

You take him deep right as he opens his eyes and they widen in shock as he chokes out a sound that goes straight to your cunt. Pleased that you can make a man as strong and fierce as the general choke on his own breath. You start to bob your head quickly, wanting to hear more and to see his face screw up in pleasure.

Marcus groans, his chin resting on his chest as he watches you take his cock. “Fuck.” He grunts as your hands rest on his thighs as you take his cock in your mouth. His stomach clenches and he moans, shaking his head. “I am - I’m going to- shit. Stop.” He pleads, his cock twitching in your mouth.

You are surprised that he is already about to cum, but maybe he has been without the pleasure of a woman for too long. You pull off his cock, panting yourself as you wipe your chin. Your cunt is dripping and you are eager to see if his cock scrubs against your walls the way you hope he does. Despite your initial reservations about having sex with someone else, you now find yourself looking forward to fucking this man

He is shocked how quickly you worked him up but perhaps it’s because this is not a whore he’s paid for. You are the most coveted woman in the empire, a prize to your husband, and you’re on your knees for him. Caracalla smirks at the look on the general’s face. He looks worked up and the emperor smirks, “you need to spill inside her. Uxor, lay down on the bed and spread your legs for the general. Let him see how wet you get sucking a cock.”

You shift to your feet and turn around. Your eyes slide to your husband and you see that he is turned on, his own cock tenting his tunic. Laying down, you spread your legs. Bending your knees you run your hands down to spread the lips of your sex for him to see. “Soaked.” You moan softly.

Marcus’s eyes darken as he takes in the sight of your wet cunt. You’re dripping and he loves it. He reaches down to squeeze his cock as he shuffles closer. Caracalla smirks at the look on the general’s face. “You can fuck her, Acacius. You have the emperor’s blessing. Fill her with your seed and create the next emperor of Rome.” He demands and Marcus shifts to kneel on the bed. His free hand slides up your thigh until he’s pushing two thick digits into your dripping cunt.

Your eyes flutter closed on a loud moan, feeling the way his fingers stretch you out. His hands are rough, the skin scraping so deliciously inside you and making your legs shift and shake around his hips. This man will be so different from the only other man you have had sex with, you know that instinctively and for a split second, you pray to the gods that it will take more than one time for him to successfully fill you with his seed. 

He pumps his fingers, loving how wet you are around them, and he groans when you squeeze his digits. He wants you to cum like this. His thumb against your clit, he curls his fingers while your emperor watches you. His fingers squeeze his cock through his tunic while Marcus strokes his cock with his fist.

Your body responds to the sure, deep pumps of his fingers into your cunt. “Gods.” You whimper, watching as his dark, intense eyes watch his fingers move inside you. Completely focused on making you feel blissful before he mounts you. You won’t say that your husband hasn’t pleasured you, but it’s always been a byproduct of his own, rather than his complete goal. “It feels so good. His fingers are magical.”

Caracalla smirks as he watches your back arch and you moan as Marcus pumps his fingers into you. The room is filled with a squelch as you take what he gives you. “That’s it, Empress.” He coos, pressing his thumb harder against your clit.

You pant out your first name. “Call me by my name when you are inside me.” You order breathlessly, wanting to hear him say your name. Turning your head, you look to your husband behind you, seeing that he is actually enjoying watching you like this. You know he has attended many orgies and probably watched many people have sex, but his eyes are alight with glee, watching this general touch you.

Marcus watches you as you take his fingers and groans at the way you are fluttering around his digits. He says your name as a demand, wanting you to fall apart for him before he fucks you full of his seed. Caracalla watches and smirks, his cock now pulled out so he can slowly jerk himself at the sight in front of him.

Whimpering quietly, your body starts to react. Toes curling and thighs shaking as your cunt clenches down around his thick fingers. “Marcus!” Your gasp of his name is loud, almost surprised as the intense pleasure rips through you, his fingers pressing against something wonderful inside you.

He groans, cock twitching in his hand as you soak his digits and Caracalla chuckles, “she loves your fingers, General.” Marcus smirks and works you through it, pulling his fingers out after you start to whine. “You want me to fuck you, Empress?” He asks, smirking as he jerks his cock against your pelvis.

You moan, nodding as you try to roll your hips down. He looks confident now, like the general you know he must be on the battlefield. “I do, General. Fuck me full.”

He nods, shifting to position his cock at your entrance, swiping it through your folds as he groans softly when he notches himself at your entrance and starts to push inside you with a soft groan of your name. You’re so tight and hot, his eyes flutter closed at the way you feel around him. 

He’s thick. Thicker than Caracalla, stretching you more than his fingers did and pulling a long, wanton moan from your chest. You are taking another man. Having his cock inside you and you hear your husband groan as he watches. He sounds almost envious, but you can only care about the way Marcus fills you right now. “Fuck.” You whine when his hips are flush and his cock is pushed deep and kissing your womb. “Your cock is made by the gods.” You praise breathlessly.

Marcus looks down at you, his chest heaving at the way you are taking his cock and he shifts to his forearms so he can hover over you. Your legs lift to wrap around his hips and his face hovers near yours. “You’re so tight.” He hisses and Caracalla smirks, “I told you. She’s like a virgin.” He declares as he squeezes his cock in his hand, working himself as Marcus starts to move inside you.

That first thrust is a sharp snap of his hips. Making you scream and your nails dig into his biceps. Marcus freezes, fearing that he had made an error, but your thighs tighten. “More, move general.” You demand, wanting to see if he can make you scream like that again.

He loves the way you command him, reminding him of your status. He relaxes now that he knows he didn’t hurt you and he rocks his hips, pushing deep into you. “Empress. Scream for me.” He growls, leaning in to kiss your neck since he doesn’t know if kissing is permissible. His hips rock forward as he pushes against your cervix.

You moan softly, knowing that he will make you scream if he moves like this inside you. “Kiss him.” Caracalla orders, giving permission and you quickly turn your head to press your lips to Marcus's as his head comes up. He rocks into you steadily, your fingers tracing over the scars on his back and side as he fucks you. Mapping the wars that he has fought and the times he has survived to experience this moment. “So deep.” You whimper. 

He is lost in the feel of your hot cunt around his cock. Your body takes everything he gives you. His hips slap against your ass and he shifts his weight onto one arm so he can grab your thigh, pushing it back towards your stomach as he sinks impossibly deeper into you. His tongue sliding against yours to swallow your moan.

You don’t even think about Caracalla, although you hear the sound of him stroking his cock. Too taken by the way that Marcus fucks you. He’s rougher, harder than your husband and his pace makes your walls flutter around his cock every time he drills into you. It’s so wicked, forbidden and the people of Rome would be horrified if they knew that their Empress was being fucked like a common whore, but you love it. 

He groans into your mouth as you grip his shoulders and he rocks harder into you, wanting to feel you cum around him. His hand slides up your thigh until he’s rubbing your clit. He may have had many whores but he’s always prided himself on ensuring they were pleasured too. “Empress.” He groans against your chin, “want you to cum for me.”

You whine into his mouth when he comes back to kiss you. Rocking up against his fingers as you try to get as close as possible to him. One hand slides down to his ass, feeling it flex as he pumps into you. “Yes. Yes.” You chant, eyes closed in bliss.

Marcus grunts as he grinds into you, his fingers rubbing your clit faster as he wants you to cum for him. He kisses along your neck and Caracalla is invisible to him as he focuses completely on you. “Cum for me.” He demands and you cry into his mouth as you fall apart for him.

It’s good, better than any pleasure Caracalla has ever given you but you can never admit that. Your body trembles under his as your walls spasm around him. Making him groan as you gasp out his name. “Marcus!” You feel how you soak his cock and the sounds it makes as he fucks you through it.

He loves the way you squeeze him and he hisses your name, rocking into you. He knows he should hold off, make you fall apart again but he is wound up by the circumstances. “Fill her up, Acacius.” Caracalla demands and Marcus buries his face in your neck as he thrusts a half dozen more times until he’s pushing deep and filling you up with hot spurts of cum.

The hot splash of his seed makes you whine, eyes closed as you feel him ride out his pleasure, cock pulsing inside you. He doesn’t pull out of you immediately and you enjoy his weight on top of you. He is heavier, broader than your husband and you like feeling like you are at his mercy. The sweat slick skin of his back slides under your fingers and you stroke it and you sigh in bliss.

Marcus shifts to take his weight off you and he swallows harshly. He hasn’t cum that hard since he was with his wife. He kisses your neck without Caracalla seeing it and your emperor stands, cock in his hand, to stand at the foot of the bed. “Pull out of her. I want to see your seed drip out of her.” He demands and Marcus shifts to pull out of you. He lays beside you and Caracalla stands there, eyes dark as he takes in the sight of your dripping cunt.

You can’t really tell what your husband is thinking, his eyes wide and slightly manic. He’s not upset, that much you can tell. “What do you think, maritus?” You ask softly.

He smirks, jerking his cock as he kneels on the bed. “I want to cover you in my seed.” He says as he watches you while you lay on the bed, chest heaving.

You don’t dare look over at Marcus, keeping your eyes on your husband as he starts to buck into his hand. You can tell he’s already close from the groans. “Cover me.” You urge him, spreading your thighs wider. “Coat me and we will pray to the gods that they will give you a strong child.”

Caracalla doesn’t hesitate as he starts to cover you. Hot drops of his seed hitting your skin and covering your cunt that is still creamy from Marcus’s cum. “That’s it. It’s - our warrior.” He groans as he works himself empty of every drop while Marcus relaxes beside you.

You reach down and swipe your fingers through his seed and bring it up to your mouth. He loves when you taste him and he finally milks the last drops out of his cock as you moan softly, licking your digits clean.

Caracalla smirks, “perfect. Fucking perfect. You will be with child before we know it.” He says as he looks over at Marcus, “I want you here to fill her up every day until she’s with child.” He demands, “you will remain here in our quarters. No one will question you because we have no guards inside.”

You are surprised by the Emperor’s order, but you don’t question it. “Will you be present every time, or do you want him to fill me as often as possible?” You ask, looking over at the general to see what he thinks.

Marcus knows he cannot say no. He nods and shifts to sit up on the bed. “I shall do as my emperor desires.” He promises and Caracalla smirks, “you’ll fill her up every single day until it takes.” He demands and Marcus bows his head. “I will let you two decide the times. I cannot afford to spend too much time here and I don’t want people to get suspicious.”

“Of course, maritus.” You shift to your knees and press your lips to your husband’s briefly and he huffs before pushing you back down to the bed. “You must lay there.” He tells you. “Lift your hips so his seed isn’t wasted.”

Marcus reaches for his tunic, suddenly feeling awkward as he redresses while you lay down and keep your hips tilted. He possibly just got the empress pregnant and no one can ever know. The senate would have him killed for his treason, Geta certainly would. Caracalla tucks himself away and strides over to clap Marcus on the back. “I’ll show you to your rooms and we will have your things brought to the palace.” Marcus nods, letting the emperor guide him through the halls until he’s in an ornate room. “You have one job now, General. Fuck my uxor and fill her until it takes.” Caracalla says, his eyes a little manic. Marcus nods and watches the emperor leave. He looks around and sighs, wondering what he’s gotten himself into.

You lay with your hips for an hour. Bored and replaying your encounter with Marcus as Caracalla’s cum dries on your skin. He’s a better lover than your husband and you are ashamed of it, but you are looking forward to having him in your bed again.

Marcus looks around the room, unsure of what to do or say as he comes to the realization that his dream of enjoying time alone in his villa is long gone. He’s under the thumb of the emperor now and he must do as he says otherwise he will face execution.

****

The next afternoon, you find Marcus on the balcony, appearing deep in thought. “I am not disturbing you, am I General?” You ask softly, waiting by the pillar for him to acknowledge you. You wonder what he thinks about this, about being commanded to fill you with his child.

Marcus turns to look at you, reminded of how beautiful you are as the sun shines on your face. “Good day, Empress. You’re not disturbing me.” He promises, “are you well?” He asks, wanting to make sure he hasn’t harmed you.

“I am.” You smile as you walk out onto the balcony and look at the gardens below. “Sore, in a very good way.” You assure him, glancing over at him before looking back out at the neatly manicured hedges and plants. “I hope that you do not feed trapped here.” You murmur softly. “I am sure you are used to doing what you wish when you wish it.”

Marcus looks down at the olive trees and sighs, his hands wringing together. “You and I both know we have no choice but to follow the orders of the Emperor. I did not imagine returning from war to engage in the breeding of the empress. You are a beautiful woman and if you were not the uxor of Caracalla, I would be thanking the gods for letting me be in your bed, but the circumstances are…unusual. As long as you have need of me, I’m at your service.” He assures you, “it is not a task to fuck you but I worry for the day the emperor changes his mind.”

“Caracalla cannot have anyone know about his bad seed.” You murmur quietly. “Especially not Geta. He will not change his mind, but…..” you look around and lower your voice. “I do not trust that he might get rid of you once I have given birth to a son.”

Marcus turns to look at you again, “I would not be surprised but I’d rather have that issue several moons from now instead of being killed for not following orders. It will not be a hard task to put a child in you but you must tell me if you do not wish to take me.” He insists, “I do not want to fuck an unwilling woman.”

You snort, turning to look out at the gardens so he doesn’t see your embarrassment. “He would have my tongue cut out for admitting this, but you are better.” You admit softly. “I spent an hour with my hips tilted towards the gods, replaying what you had just done to me, imagining it happening again and again.”

Marcus turns to look at you, eyebrows raised, and he cannot deny that his cock twitches while his chest puffs with pride. “Is that so? Do you wish for us to…repeat the event soon to ensure the next emperor of Rome? I must admit that I have had many women, most of them whores, but no one has made me cum as hard as you did.”

That makes you straighten, pleased by the notion that you can bring this general to his knees. Making his core quiver in pleasure despite your lack of experience with partners. You bite your lip and turn towards him. “Perhaps we should retire and make sure that we have enough energy for our next session?” You ask, your fingers sliding along the smooth marble edge of the balcony to touch his hand. “The emperor was most insistent that you fill me often. I believe that we should obey his orders.” 

Marcus smirks, seeing the eager look in your eyes, and he leans closer. “We wouldn’t want to disappoint the emperor. Shall we convene in your quarters or mine?” He asks, his eyes dropping down to your lips. You’re forbidden to everyone except Caracalla and now…him. It’s intoxicating especially when you tell him he’s better. Even if it’s just to float his ego. 

“Yours.” You decide, wondering if it will be acceptable to him. “Unless you need to leave again as soon as it’s done?” You ask, hoping that he would not want you to leave. You spend a lot of time by yourself and you are curious to hear about his campaigns and the places he has seen. 

He glances back over the gardens, “I am here to fulfill an order from the emperor and I wish to do it to the best of my ability. Let us retire to my quarters and you are welcome to remain as long as you please.” He promises and he wants to speak to you about your former kingdom, your father, and the army who took you from your home to deliver you to the Emperor.

Nodding, you feel that same odd sense of giddiness that had overcome you last night. A forbiddenness that has been temporarily allowed, even ordained by the gods. A taste of normalcy, where you can pretend that you are not an Empress. Nothing but a woman that this handsome, virile man wants. “Call me by my name.” You ask, almost as a plea. 

His eyes meet yours and he licks his lips as he says your name. He loves the smile you give him in return and his hand brushes yours, “lead the way, empress.” He demands, saying your name again when you narrow your eyes at him.

“Do you prefer to be called by your rank or your name?” You ask softly, turning away from the balcony and walking back inside with him towards his chamber.

“You can call me by my name.” He says, following you as you walk through the hallway to his newly assigned quarters. It’s more than anything he’s ever had before. Even in his beautiful villa. He follows you inside and shuts the door behind you, “you are exquisite.” He declares when you turn to look at him.

“Do you claim those words for every whore you fuck?” You ask curiously, tilting your head as you smile at him, showing him that you are teasing. “Or do you save that for the special ones?”

Marcus shakes his head, “there’s usually no words when I have a whore in my quarters. I like to speak with my actions. Not my words.” He confesses, stepping over to you. He reaches up to cup your cheeks, “you truly are Venus herself.” He murmurs, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours.

“You are handsome.” You admit breathlessly. “Strong, fierce. Like Apollo.” Your hands run up the soft white tunic he is wearing. “I thought so last night when you were inside me. Riding me hard and yet-“ your lips brush against his. “Your lips were tender.”

His cock twitches at the soft contact of your lips and he can’t help it. He grabs the back of your neck and drags you closer to him, tilting his head so he can press his lips to yours. You’re so soft against him, pliable as his other hand grips your waist.

He’s so dominant, in control. You can tell this is a man who is used to being in charge, taking what he needs to take. You don’t resist, pressing yourself against his hard body, letting the kiss deepen as you open your mouth and let out a soft moan.

His tongue slides against yours and he groans you relinquish power to him. You’re so eager to please. He wants to taste you though, all of you. His mouth pulls away from yours so he can kiss along your jaw down to your neck, and he starts walking you backwards towards his bed.

You let him guide you, willing to do whatever he wants. Although it’s easy to see that he wants your dress off when his fingers reach for the ornate pin on your shoulder that keeps the material up. You wonder if it will be different this time since Caracalla isn’t watching.

He pulls on the pin and your robes fall to the marbled floor, exposing you to the cool breeze and he pushes you back onto the bed, loving the way your tits bounce as you fall backwards. He wants to taste you so he grabs your waist, lifting you higher up the bed, and he pushes your thighs apart, wasting no time before he dives in to slide his tongue through your folds.

You gasp in surprise, eyes widening as you lurch up. It’s not that you’ve never had this kind of attention, but that it’s rare. Caracalla prefers to have your mouth on him. Your fingers tangle into his hair and you moan loudly when he flicks his tongue over your clit.

He groans at the tangy taste of your arousal. His fingers dig into your thighs as he pushes them apart so he can slide his tongue against your clit. “Fuck.” He curses when he pulls back for a moment, spreading you with his thumbs so he can suck your clit into his mouth.

You whine his name, closing your eyes. “Marcus.” Your hips roll up until he throws one arm over your waist to pin you down. Holding you in place while he does wonderful things to your cunt with his tongue.

He laps at your cunt, wanting to hear you fall apart for him. There’s no rush for this. Caracalla isn’t watching and you are alone with the general. He approaches your cunt like a battlefield, using the best method to make you fall apart for him. He laps at your clit, his fingers digging into your thigh as he pushes it towards your stomach with a groan.

You pull your thighs back like he wants, reaching down and holding them so he can lick as deep as he wants into you. Moaning out his name again as he continues to feast on your cunt like a man who has been given his last meal besides an execution.

He groans into your flesh, loving the way you open yourself up for him, and he slides his tongue as deep as he can go, loving the tang of your arousal and the way you moan his name.

He groans in your flesh, vibrating it deep into your core and it makes you clench around his tongue. Pushing your hips down against his face, you want to grind into it. To ride his tongue. You’ve heard of such things, witnessed some of the orgies when you had been spying on your husband’s parties after you had been sent off to bed. “Marcus, oh fuck. I- it’s so good.”

He loves hearing your cry of pleasure and his nose presses against your clit. His hand on your hips slides up to squeeze your breast, wanting you to cry out his name again. At this moment, he doesn’t care about anyone hearing your cries even though the Emperor wants this to be your dirty secret. He groans and pinches your nipple, wanting you to fall apart again.

You shiver, your legs tremble as you climb closer to your peak. Feeling your body start to buck again as he pinches your nipple again. “Cum for me and I’ll fuck you.” He rasps out, pulling away from your cunt long enough to order you to cum before he dives back into it. Throwing you over the edge with another swipe of his tongue, your cunt starts to gush in pleasure as you clench around nothing.

He laps up every drop you offer. Like elixir, he greedily sucks at your folds and your clit, working you through your orgasm as his fingers grip your body to keep you in place until you push his head away, overstimulated. He’s aching, hard and pressing into the bed.

“Gods.” You pant, pushing to your elbows and looking down at him. “You are good at that.” You reach down and grab his shoulder to drag him up. “Kiss me.” You beg, not caring that your juices are on his mouth. “Then I want you to fuck me.”

He cannot deny you anything. Shifting onto his knees, his cock tenting his tunic as he leans down to press his lips to yours. He shifts his weight to push against you and he hisses when you reach for the hem of his tunic to pull it over his head, breaking the kiss.

“You are gorgeous.” You whisper, reaching down and wrapping your fingers around his cock. “Do you like to fuck away the heat of battle when you come back to your tent?” You ask curiously. “Do you prefer a softer touch then to counteract the violence of earlier?”

He groans, looking down at your soft hand around his cock, “it depends. Mostly it’s rough, fuck away the adrenaline.” He says and leans in to kiss along your jaw as he holds his weight over you. “Gods, you are - let me inside you.” He pleads, needing to feel your hot cunt again.

You spread your thighs wider, lifting a leg to hook onto the side of his hip. “Fuck me.” You order him, surprised that he had even asked permission.

You release his cock and he grips himself, pumping his length a few times, squeezing as he positions himself at your dripping entrance. He slowly pushes into you, wanting to feel how hot and wet you are as he gives you inch after inch of his cock.

It’s slower than last night. As if he is savoring every inch as he pushes inside you. You don’t rush him, enjoying the way his cock scrubs against your walls slowly, breaking you open and making your cunt fit him inside. Holding onto his shoulders, you encourage him with your sounds, moaning in pleasure and caressing his skin as he pauses halfway inside you.

He surges forward to press his lips to yours, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he pushes the rest of the way inside you. His cock twitches once he presses against your cervix, groaning at how you’re gripping him. His hand caresses your side as he slides his hand up to your breast.

His grip on your flesh is possessive, sure. Taking more liberties now that your husband is not directing his movements. “I’m yours now.” You murmur softly in encouragement. “Touch me. Explore me. Use me how you want.”

He knows you’re not his, can never be his, but you are in this moment, and he’s greedy. He groans, kissing along your neck, and he ducks his head down to take your nipple into his mouth. He bites down, sucking on the hardened nub, and he loves how you cry out at his touch.

You love your breasts being played with. Caracalla has a feeding obsession, wishing that you produced milk, but hopefully soon you will be able to. You wonder if Marcus would want to taste milk from your breasts.

He groans at the way your hand tangles in his hair and he starts to move inside you. “Fuck. You feel so good.” He murmurs against your sternum, turning his head to take your other nipple into his mouth.

You whimper his name, letting him rock you closer to pleasure as he suckles at your breast. “Fuck, you- I can’t describe it.” You admit breathlessly. “You are like a god.”

He chuckles, his breath washing over you, and he grabs your thigh, “you’re a goddess. Fucking - fuck. You’re Venus. I am merely here to worship you.” He declares, his voice is raspy.

It’s intimate, so intimate that it makes your eyes wet with yearning. He feels like he is speaking to your soul, even if it is just the moment. You aren’t used to such soft words and you turn your head to press kisses to his broad shoulder, not wanting him to see you choked up.

He shouldn’t feel like this, like this is right where he should be. You belong to Caracalla and he should still mourn his wife, but the way you take his cock has him groaning your name into your neck as he tries to conceal the way you’re making him feel.

Your body responds to him so easily, making every roll of his hips push you higher. The pants and moans grow steadier every time he pushes deep and the inhale of anticipation when he draws back. The rhythm is one that neither one of you questions, each pushing towards pleasure together. “Fuck.”

He wants you to cum for him, needs to hear and feel it. He grabs your other thigh, pushing it back towards your stomach so you are folded over. He groans your name, kissing along your jaw to press his lips to yours. He slides his tongue into your mouth and drops his hips to grind his pelvis against yours.

Your moan is sealed into your mouth with his lips, or maybe it’s absorbed by him. All you know is that your nails dig into his shoulders as he works himself deep into your cunt. Pressing harder and harder with every roll of his hips. “Oh gods!”

Your cry into his mouth makes him smile against your chin, rocking into you a little faster as you clamp down on his cock. His pelvis and balls are soaked with your release and he hisses when you squeeze him like a vice. “Fuck.” He grunts, eyes closing as he works you through it. He pulls out when you relax beneath him and he rolls over, your body on top of his. “Ride me, empress. I want you to take another wave of pleasure from my body.” He demands, smacking your ass.

Eyes wide, you sit up, your hands on his chest. “I’ve never- never been in charge before.” You admit, even though you would love to do such a thing. “I- help me?” You ask, grinding down on his length and wanting him inside you again.

He suppresses his chuckle at your wide, uncertain eyes, but he loves how you look on top of him and the fact that you haven’t done this before. He reaches down to grip his cock, telling you to lift up. You shift to lift up and he positions his cock so you can sink back down onto him. “Rock your hips.” He commands, wanting to help you ride him.

He feels different from this angle. Bigger. His cock pressing against different parts of your walls and you gasp in pleasure when you roll back down on him. “Gods.” Your eyes close and you lean back, enjoying the way his cock stretches you this way. “You feel even bigger. Like you are right here.” Your hand covers your stomach. “You are in my womb.”

“I will be. I will fill you until it takes.” He promises, his hands gripping your hips. He helps you start to rock and you moan, your mouth falling open and he loves the way your tits bounce as you start to get a rhythm together.

It’s so different, being in charge. If you slow down or grind down harder, Marcus groans and twitches inside you. Like he’s enjoying you using him. Your body moves eagerly, loving the sounds he makes as he digs his fingers into your hips. “Gods, your cock is made for my cunt.”

“That’s it, empress. Take what you want from me. Use me.” He demands, his hand slapping your ass while the other grips your waist. He watches you take your pleasure and he loves the way your chest heaves when you get the angle just right.

You squeal when he slaps your ass again, clenching down around him. He is so commanding, even when he is under you and yet he lets you control him. If you pulled off his cock right now, you know he would let you. It’s freedom, and you’re breathless when you collapse onto his chest to press your lips to his.

He groans, his hand grabbing the back of your neck to keep you close, his tongue sliding against yours. He loves the way you rock back onto him and he wants you to make yourself cum. He needs you to cum again for him.

You lean into the kiss. Continuing to work yourself on his cock. Whining softly when your cunt starts to pulse until you are locking down around him with a cry into his mouth.

He groans when you cum for him again, soaking him, and he wraps his arms around you. He hisses your name and starts to thrust up into you. He can’t hold off any longer as he works himself towards your orgasm. He pushes deep into you, his cock twitching inside you as he starts to paint your walls with his cum.

You turn and press kisses to his jawline and moans softly. “That feels so good.” You murmur, resting your head against his shoulder and feel him riding out his high.

He pants as he closes his eyes, trying to catch his breath. He’s never felt like this before. Like his soul is leaving his body. He caresses your spine, fingers lazily trailing along your skin as he breathes you in.

“Can I stay like this?” You ask softly, content to lay just like you are if he will let you. You reason that having his cock still stuffed inside you is even better than tilting your hips up. “Am I too heavy?”

He shakes his head, “no, not too heavy. You can stay like this.” He says softly, closing his eyes as he enjoys the weight of you on top of him. He feels tired, his eyes still closed as his cock softens inside you.

You don’t realize you fell asleep until you wake up. Still on top of him with his arms secured around you. Holding you in place as he breathes softly underneath you. He’s still sleeping, making you softly turn your head up and watch him. He’s beautiful when he sleeps and you hope that the child you have looks like him.

Marcus wakes up when he feels your stare and he offers you a soft smile, “wore me out.” His chuckles vibrate through you and he sighs, glancing over at the balcony to see the sun is setting. “The Emperor will be wanting your presence.” He says softly, “we must clean up and I’ll leave you to your peace.”

“The emperor is attending a feast tonight.” You hum, knowing that you should probably keep your distance from the general when you are not letting him fill you. “I will be presented and then expected to leave before the festivities begin.” You snort. “There will be an orgy.”

Marcus snorts, “I never understood the appeal.” He confesses, “I like connection. Even with the whores I bedded, I felt connected to them even if only for the night.” He admits before he bites his lip, “do you like your life here or do you miss your home?”

“I miss home.” You want to hope that he will not tell the emperor. He doesn’t like when you admit somewhere else might be better than Rome. “I don’t have many people who will talk to me. Or spend time with me. I’m lonely.” You sigh. “Only to be seen and to bear the emperor's children.” Your father had sent you to marry the younger brother in order to preserve peace for your realm.

Marcus sighs, “I’m sure you do. I miss my village. When I was a boy, my father was killed in war and my mother struggled to survive, to feed us. As soon as I was able, I left to join the army. I wanted to send coin back to my mother but by the time I returned home, she was dead.” He murmurs, brow furrowed because he hasn’t thought about this for so long. “I threw myself into the fight until I met my wife. She was the daughter of a noble and I never imagined I’d be able to ask for her hand, so I fought hard to rise in the ranks until I could ask her father for his blessing. When we married, I was so happy, and she became with child. Then the day of our son’s birth…she died. So did he.” He’s lost in the agony of the memory, swallowing harshly as he tightens his grip on you.

You sigh softly and reach up to caress his cheek. Even though their deaths weren’t recent, you can see the despair on his face. “My prayers to the gods that they are peaceful together in death.” You murmur softly. “You gave yourself to the army and to Rome after that.” You know what it feels like to have nothing to live for, you feel like a prisoner with a decorative chain around your neck. Leaning in, you press your lips to his in a kiss meant to comfort.

He sighs into the kiss, cupping your cheek as he kisses you softly. “And now I give myself to her Empress.” He murmurs, “I shall fetch us some wine.” He says and you nod, shifting off him and he moves off the bed so he can get you a cup of wine.

He moves easily in his own skin, unashamed by his nudity and the body he possesses. He is not as firm as he might have been in his youth, but there is a leanness to him still that makes the broadness of his shoulders and bulk of his muscles incredibly appealing. There is a strength in his frame that Caracalla could never possess. “Do you mind?” You ask softly. “Knowing that your child will be claimed by Rome?”

He pours the wine as he contemplates his answer, “I have no choice. Even if it is not my wish, I cannot say no. As for the child…I am a general. I will die in battle and I would wish for my child to be taken care of. I know this child will be taken care of to the fullest extent.” He confesses, “I can die in peace.”

It’s wise, pragmatic even, but you still feel a sudden wave of sadness thinking about this man falling in battle. “Then I must learn all I can about you.” You murmur softly, smiling when he walks back over and hands the cup to you. “So I can tell him stories about a man that he should admire.”

Marcus offers you a soft smile, appreciating you wanting to tell your child about him. “He can never know that Caracalla is not his father.” Marcus reminds you, “he must be the rightful heir. But if you wish to tell him about your friend, I am willing to share myself with you.” He offers, “but you must tell me more about his mother,”

“That sounds fair.” You smile and take a sip of the wine as you lounge in his bed, completely nude. This is the most relaxed you have been since you have been sent to Rome and you know it is because of him, “I will tell you everything.” You promise.

****

Marcus groans as you clamp down on his cock, soaking him again as sweat glistens on his skin. He grunts, jaw clenched as he rocks into you from behind, his hips hitting your ass so the only noise in the room is slapping skin. He's been fucking you for two months now, spending nearly every night in your bed. Caracalla has entertained himself with his whores and orgies, leaving Marcus to make you scream his name every night.

You collapse down to your elbows, face on the cool sheets as he fucks you through the spasms of pleasure. “Amor, cum for me.” You beg, losing yourself to the moment and slipping up. Calling him an endearment you have kept inside you for weeks now. You spend all day, everyday with Marcus. Falling in love with the general and wishing that you were free to be with him. You feel as if he cares for you, but that just might be the sex that he enjoys.

Your words send him over the edge and he pushes deep as he cums, painting your walls for the umpteenth time. You missed your bleed last month but no one announced a pregnancy, wanting to be sure that you are with child. Marcus is reluctant to have it declared, knowing that his duty will be done and he will be sent away back to his villa, away from you. You are unlike any woman he's ever known. Strong, smart, beautiful, and you are lonely. He senses how isolated you are so he has spent a lot of time with you, discussing his battles, your battles - different in their methods but no less weary - and he has fallen for you. You are not his though, you belong to Caracalla and if he even dared to think about you being his, he would be killed.

Whining in pleasure as he fills you, your legs slide out from under you. Bringing you down to the bed and knowing that he will follow you. You love how close the two of you are, how he loves to touch you and keep touching you. You catch your breath and start to giggle softly, feeling him twitch when your walls clench around him in the aftershocks. “I love how you feel inside me.” You hum, lazy now that your body has been used and satisfied equally.

Marcus follows you, keeping his weight off of you just in case you are with child, and he kisses along your back. “You take me so well.” He murmurs, resting his forehead on your lower neck as he hovers over you. “Do you think…do you think you are with child?”

“I should not say this, but I hope I am not.” You sigh softly. “I have become accustomed to you in my bed and between my thighs. I do not want to give such a pleasure up.”

Marcus pulls out of you and shifts to lay down beside you, “perhaps…perhaps we can continue this. Ask the Emperor if he will allow us to copulate until the babe is born. He may allow us to continue in each other’s company, saying it’s to ensure the baby’s health.” He ponders, reaching out to cup your cheek, “I do not wish to give you up just yet.”

“I do not want to give you up either.” You confess softly, leaning into his touch. “You have become important to me. I….care for you.” It’s dangerous to admit, but you have to tell him that much at least. “I will ask the emperor to continue spending time with you.” You promise.

Marcus knows the request could be easily denied but he wants to continue spending time with you. He nods, shifting to pull you into his chest, burying his nose in your neck. He's gotten lazy, not wanting to train when he could be spending time with you.

****

“Congratulations, empress.” The Hippocrates you had called to the suite beams at you as he packs away his tools and tinctures. “The emperor will be pleased and the empire will drink to the health of your child.” You cover your womb protectively and wonder how Caracalla will take the news. Even though he had demanded this, he could always have a different view now that it is done. “Thank you.”

Caracalla is beaming when you tell him the news, pleased that his plan has worked and he can tell his brother that his child will be the next in line. “If it’s a son.” Geta hums and Caracalla nods, “it will be. A strong boy.” He celebrates by holding a party and you are alone, needing “to rest and protect the baby” in your quarters when Marcus enters, his brow furrowed. “What is the occasion for the orgy?” He asks, not having heard the news yet as he was training with his men all day.

When Marcus comes in, you rush over to him, flinging yourself into his arms and pressing your lips to his. Now truly able to celebrate the baby since his father has come home. “I am carrying your child.” You whisper softly, “your child. Not Caracalla’s.” You bite your lip and reach down to cover your womb. “I do not feel as if this child is his. It belongs to the man I love.”

Marcus’s eyes widen at the news and he pulls back to look down at your hand on your stomach. “Our child.” He murmurs in awe, unable to believe it’s happened despite him spending every night in your bed. He grabs the back of your neck, dragging you to his lips, and he pulls back after several moments to declare “I love you.”

You close your eyes in relief, letting out a small sob. “I love you too, Marcus.” You whisper softly. “In another life, we would be together.” You hate that you are the empress, that you are Caracalla’s wife and not his. “I wish we could change our fate.”

Marcus nods, “me too.” He cups your cheeks and sighs, “I love you, amor.” He murmurs and kisses your forehead, “for now, let us enjoy our time together before I am sent away. Let me worship the mother of my child.” He declares, shifting to kneel down in front of you.

“I will talk to the emperor.” You hadn’t had a chance to talk with him in private before he was rushing off to plan a feast and orgy to celebrate ‘his’ virility. Reaching down, you run your fingers through his dark curls and pray to the gods your babe has those same locks.

Marcus lifts your tunic, exposing your body to his hungry gaze, and he leans in to kiss your lower stomach as you bunch your tunic up under your breasts. His hands caress the back of your legs as he kisses down to your mound, burying his nose in the curls at the apex of your thighs. “Want to taste you.” He murmurs against your skin, shifting so he can slide his tongue through your folds.

Marcus is very talented with his tongue. He has proven that over the past months and you moan in pleasure. He lifts a leg onto his shoulder and you feel so exposed. Like a god being serviced by a mere mortal. He makes everything good. “Marcus.” You pant, closing your eyes briefly before you look down at him on his knees. Wanting to memorize this moment in fear that you might not have it again.

He groans at the tangy taste of your arousal, sliding his tongue through your folds and lapping at your clit like he’s worshiping Venus. He wants to savor every second of being with you before he’s sent away. It could be any second Caracalla decides his job is complete and sends him back to his villa.

His hands hold you in place, keeping you upright while he takes his time to lick through your folds and making you moan his name loudly.

He squeezes your ass just as the doors open and Caracalla strides in, dressed in his robes and taking a moment from the party. “Ah, Acacius. You are taking care of the Empress. Well done on ensuring I have an heir.” Caracalla watches as Marcus doesn’t stop, his tongue lapping at you. “I heard that fucking during pregnancy ensures a boy. I want a son. You will remain here in the palace to make sure I have an heir.” He declares, his cock twitching at the way you moan and Marcus sucks on your clit.

Your eyes find your husband, his face filled with pride and lust. “Yes.” You agree quickly, since it’s exactly what you want. “You need a son, my emperor.” You moan. “He will keep filling me, making sure you get what you need. A strong son.” You bite your lip. “He has served his emperor well and will continue to do so.”

Marcus loves your praise, continuing to ignore Caracalla’s presence as he works you towards your orgasm. He wants to be greedy, to have you like this for as long as he can before he has to leave you. “Keep pleasuring her, Acacius.” Caracalla orders and spins in his heel, wanting to enjoy his evening at the party celebrating his heir. “Keep her cumming.” He shouts back before he shuts the door and leaves you and Marcus together.

You push his head away as soon as the door slams shut and you drop to your knees. Needing to kiss Marcus now that you know that he’s not going to be sent away.

Marcus whines into your mouth in protest but he can't deny you. He cups your cheek and deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth as his other hand grabs your ass to pull you against him, his cock hard under his tunic.

You kiss deeply, thoroughly. Panting into his mouth and gasping for air when you break apart. “I love you.” You moan. “I need you inside me. Here, now.”

He grabs your thighs, lifting you so you are hovering over him as he kneels on the floor. "Take my cock and put me inside you." He demands, holding your weight over his body.

You fumble with his tunic, reaching underneath and pumping his cock before you line him up with your cunt. Moaning when he slowly lowers you down on him. “Fuck, amor.” You whimper, feeling him like it’s the first time all over again. You feel like you’re more sensitive but it just might be from the emotional turmoil.

Marcus inhales deeply when you sink down on him, engulfing him in your wet, hot cunt. "Fuck." He pants against your jaw as you grip his shoulders when he's fully inside you. "I love you." He murmurs against your skin, wanting you to know how he feels.

Your arms are around his shoulders, fingers tangling into his hair as he holds you up in his thighs. “I love you.” You promise him, knowing that even if your body belongs to Caracalla, your heart belongs to him. “You are my one love. Forever.”

“Fuck. I love you. Never thought - never imagined I could ever feel like this again. Fuck, I want you to - to take all of me and cum again.” He demands, starting to work you on his cock.

You moan in agreement, letting him take charge and control your pleasure. He’s so good at it. There’s only been a handful of times you’ve not cum on his cock and that was only because he was so worked up he came too quickly. However he had made sure he had pleasured you with his fingers and tongue afterwards.

He rocks you on his cock, wanting you to soak his cock again, and he grips your thighs. “Fuck, te amo, amor.” He rasps, leaning in to press his lips to your neck, tasting the sweat and salt of your skin.

Your eyes water and you wish for a split second that Caracalla was dead and you could celebrate your love. Holding him close, your walls are already trembling around his cock as he rocks up into you. “Yes.” You moan, loving when he uses his mother’s tongue.

He is lost in the feel of you, his cock twitching inside you as he rocks into you. He imagines for a brief moment, a life where he can be with you. A life together with your child. It's not possible though. The Emperor would have him killed, could still have him killed, and it's a dangerous game that Marcus has gotten involved in.

Your toes push off on marble floors, helping you bounce on his cock and you could stay just like this with him forever. You want to stay like this. “I love you. You are my love, my amor.” You moan in his ear. “I would be Marcus Acacius’s wife.”

Your words are treason but they make his cock twitch inside you, closer to his orgasm. He groans your name, pressing his lips to yours as he rocks a little faster, needing to feel you clamp down on his cock. “You’d be mine. I’d die for you.” He promises, “mine. Mine. Mine.” He growls against your lips.

You both are vowing things to each other that would have you both killed, but you don’t care. His next thrust pushes you over the edge and you cry out into his mouth as your walls soak him in hot waves of your pleasure.

His hand finds your ass, rocking you as you shudder through your orgasm, and he groans, thrusting a few more times before he falls apart. “Fuck. Fuck. Empress.” He pants, cock throbbing as he paints your walls, his hands squeezing you closer to him.

You cling to him, both relieved that he is going to stay beside you for the foreseeable future and desperate to never have him leave you at all. “You are perfect.” You kiss his neck gently, stroking his back over his tunic that he couldn’t be bothered to take off. Both of you are still dressed, but the moment had been perfect regardless.

He snorts, knowing he’s not perfect, but he wants you and he is going to protect you and the baby until his last breath. Caracalla wants him to stay and that is the best thing he can wish for right now. “Let’s get you cleaned up and settled. You need to rest for the baby.” He reminds you and helps you shift off his cock.

Grinning, you look down at him as he climbs to his feet. “You are going to be overprotective from now on?” You ask, already aware of the answer. He will be protective, he will take care of you. You are already in love with the baby in your belly and you feel like he is the same way.

****

"Fuck, amor." Marcus groans as you rock on top of him. Your bump pressing against his stomach as he rests his back on the wall while you ride his cock. Your knees dig into the bed beneath and his hands cup your sensitive breasts. He's been in your bedchamber for the past six months and he falls more in love with you with each passing day. It will surely kill him to leave you when he is ordered to return to war, but he will go. You can never be his. Caracalla will never permit a divorce and he will be killed for treason. He must go after the babe is born.

Caracalla hadn’t spent more than an hour a week with you, carousing and spending every night having an orgy. He claims he is excited for his child, but he only brings you out to brag about his soon to be born son before he leaves you in Marcus’s care. You are scared, because you know how precarious a position you are in. But you can only survive.

"That's it. Take what you want from me. It's yours. I'm yours." He vows, his dark eyes watching you as you bounce on his cock. Your belly is round and heavy with his child. It's something he never imagined having again after he lost his wife. He's addicted to you and he doesn't know how he's going to leave after the baby is born.

“Marcus.” You moan, leaning back and knowing that he will make sure you are comfortable and safe. “My general, my warrior.” You have been thinking about something dangerous, but you can’t think about it when he’s deep inside you. “I love you.”

He caresses your hips, leaning in to take a sensitive nipple between his lips, and he suckles lightly. He has gotten too comfortable being away from the battles the Emperors send him into, but right now, he doesn’t want to die like that. He wants to spend the rest of his life with you at this moment, no one else but you and him. His hand slides across your hip to find your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves to push you over the edge.

Carrying his baby has made you so sensitive to his touch that it only takes a few strokes of his thumb before you cry out. Your body shaking and your hips grinding down while your cunt locks down around his cock and your juices coat him.

He hisses your name as you clamp down around him, his eyes fluttering shut for a few moments as he lets you ride your high, until he’s squeezing your hips and thrusting up into you.

“Cum for me.” You beg softly, burying your face into the side of his neck so you can breathe him in. “I want to feel you inside me. Carry you with me even more.”

He groans, rocking up into you with a hiss as he gets closer to his orgasm. “Fuck. Gonna - fuck. Shit. Empress.” He moans your name as he pushes deep inside your pulsing cunt and he falls apart, painting your walls with his seed as he clenches his eyes shut.

You hum quietly, stroking his neck as he catches his breath. Feeling the baby move slightly and biting your lip. “We need to use your favor in the Senate.” You lean close and whisper the treasonous words into his ear. “Stage a coup. Revolt.” You pull back and look into his eyes seriously. “Kill the emperors.”

Marcus inhales sharply, his head turning so he can look into your eyes to see if you are testing him or if you’re serious. When he sees your eyes, he knows you’re serious and he swallows harshly, “it won’t be easy. Trying to convince the senate without the emperors finding out.” He admits quietly, “and they could find out and kill me.”

“Set the meetings.” You had thought long and hard about it. “I will convince them, I will do the talking. If our plot is found out, Caracalla could not immediately put me to death. Geta would discover the child is not truly his and he will never allow that.” You caress his cheek. “I wish to have you installed to rule as proctor for ‘his’ child.” You know the senate could never find out that the child isn’t Caracalla’s but no one but you and Marcus know this truth besides your husband.

Marcus caresses your spine, knowing that you could risk everything you’ve created, your life, your child, it’s all on the line. “Amor…” He murmurs and you cup his cheek, “I will never be allowed to be my own person. I will never be allowed to love you freely unless you do this.” You tell him and he nods, swallowing harshly, “I’ll get it organized.” He promises, “we will see it done.”

“Thank you, my love.” You lean in and press your lips to his. “I fear for our child raised under Caracalla’s direction.” Even if you are the mother, the fact that the baby would be proclaimed the emperor’s heir would mean he would be guided by your childish and evil husband. “I want him to grow up to be like his father.”

Marcus caresses your cheek, knowing there is no choice. If he looks back, he knows that he had to make this choice at some point. He never truly wanted to let you or his child go. The next morning, he dresses for court and decides to start with the hardest senator to convince, Brutus. A man who struggled to watch the Emperors rule but had loyalty to Rome. Marcus approaches him under the guise of talk of war, and Brutus nods, wandering off into a quiet corner of the senate to speak. “I fear we cannot speak in these quarters. Come to my villa, we can speak freely.” Marcus says and Brutus nods, unaware that you will be meeting with the men.

You pace, nervous about what you should say, would say. This is the most dangerous undertaking you have ever attempted. Not even trying to run away from your fate was as dangerous as this. You are trying to change your fate. The senators could be allies, or they could stab you in the back.

Brutus enters the room with Marcus, his head held high but his eyes widen when he sees the Empress standing there, her bump protruding beneath her tunic. “Empress.” He greets you, bowing his head.

“Brutus.” You greet him cautiously, but with a gracious smile on your face as you rub the swell of your stomach, bringing his eyes down to the baby. You will leverage the child in your womb. For your freedom, and perhaps Rome’s as well. “I trust you are well?” You ask kindly. “Please sit. The wine has been especially good lately.” It’s been watered down for your use, but you nod to Marcus to pour the senator a cup. “I hope you do not mind the subterfuge, I needed to speak with you and did not wish to summon you myself.”

Marcus pours the cup of wine and hands it to Brutus who nods, thanking Marcus, before his attention turns back to you. "I trust you are well, that the future Emperor is well?" He asks, and you nod in response, "he is lively. Due any day now." You declare and Marcus clears his throat, "the heir is the reason why we called you here.”

You wait for Brutus to turn back to you curiously, setting his cup down. You take a deep breath and caress your stomach. “It is no secret that unrest in Rome is at an all time high.” You murmur softly. “People are starving and while General Acacious has not been sent off on another expensive and bloody campaign, he will be soon.” You pause and sigh. “I fear for the future of Rome, of my son’s legacy that he will inherit.”

Brutus looks at Marcus who stands there, spine straight and steely eyed as your treasonous words are aired. Brutus could go tell the Emperors and you would be killed as soon as the babe is born, Marcus would be hanged the next day. However, Brutus doesn't run off. He nods, setting his cup down, "it is true that the empire is on a precipice. It could be the fall of Rome or her glory continues. The Emperors are driven by lust and greed. Their actions are selfish and make the lowest Roman anxious for change. We will fall if we allow the Emperors to continue down this path."

“There is another solution.” You suggest, rubbing your stomach again. “In my belly lies the next emperor of Rome. Ready to be guided by wise and cautious men.” Your eyes slide over to Marcus briefly. “Men who know the true cost of war and would be able to teach our emperor those lessons without it harming Rome’s people.” You look back at Brutus. “Men such as our senators, you, nurturing a leader that will take Rome to an even greater height.”

Brutus frowns, looking over at Marcus, knowing that the man who will assist in raising the young Emperor will be him. "And how would we remove our problem?" Brutus asks, eyebrows raised. 

"I say we speak to the senators...establish a coup. My husband and brother-in-law would never see it coming." You say and Brutus takes a gulp of his wine before he says, "I will start speaking to the senators tomorrow."

“I hope that we can count on your discretion.” You add, pushing out of your seat and moving over to the senator. “We are on the cusp of change.” You murmur softly. “If it is the ruin of Rome or the brightness of her future, I leave that to your hands.”

Brutus nods, "if this gets out, it will be death for us all. We won't risk it." The senator promises and he looks over at Marcus, "you shall be the one who the senate turns to?" He asks and Marcus nods, making Brutus smile. "very well. I will do what needs to be done."

You nod to the senator when he leaves, Marcus walking out with him and you start to pace. Wondering if you have just signed your death papers or if you will be successful.

****

The senate is abuzz with chatter until Caracalla and Geta enter the chamber. The senators stand straighter and Marcus stands there, dressed in his official robes with the golden laurel wreath shining. He looks regal and the Emperors slosh wine across the marble floor as they greet the senators with wide grins. Brutus looks over at his fellow senators, his hand resting on his dagger. "Emperors." He greets them, walking towards them, and his eyes meet Marcus's for a moment. "The senate and I have been in discussions about the future of Rome." He declares and Geta hums, "and what a wonderful future it will be." 

Marcus sighs, "we aren't so sure. Romans are starving, you tax them more and more every day to fund your wars and your lavish lifestyle." Marcus declares and Caracalla spins around, his eyes narrowed at the accusations, "you dare to spit these treasonous words?" He demands and Marcus shakes his head, "you are draining Rome dry. Her empire will be no more." He says louder and the senators nod while Brutus steps forward, "your leadership has driven Rome to the edge and we want to save our empire before it falls." Brutus declares and he steps up behind Geta while Marcus moves towards Caracalla. It happens in a flash, the daggers pulled out and embedded in the lower backs of the Emperors who cry out, cups of wine falling to the floor. The other senators rush forward, daggers in their hands as they each take a turn stabbing the emperors until blood runs along the marbled floors.

Your cry from your chamber is loud and pained, servants rushing and whispering through the halls. The Hippocrates has been summoned and the labor seems to be quick. The new heir to the throne of Rome is insistent on being born today. It takes your mind off of your worries. Your waters had broken almost as soon as Marcus had left to join the senators. You know that they had planned to kill your husband and his brother today, but the pains had taken over all thoughts so you had not been able to fret over the hours as they passed. 

Blood covers the floor of the senate as Caracalla and Geta lay dead, blood pouring from their mouths. It turns out they betrayed a lot of senators, made promises they couldn’t keep. The senators didn’t take a lot of convincing to remove them from power. “It is done.” Brutus declares, “a new emperor shall be born any moment but we need someone in the interim. An emperor who will represent us, save Rome and her people from ruin. I nominate General Marcus Acacius.” Brutus declares and Marcus’s eyes widen. He didn’t expect to be nominated, feeling that Brutus would want to take control. “I second that nomination.” Drusus announces and one by one, the senate declares Marcus to be the next emperor. The General is speechless, knowing he could easily be taken down like Caracalla and Geta, but this means he gets to have you. “I accept. I will serve as Emperor for all, we will make Rome prosperous and safe.” He promises as a servant rushes in to announce, “the empress is in labor.” Marcus’s eyes widen and he rushes from the senate, running through the marbled halls in his mission to get to you. He doesn’t care that men shouldn’t be in the birthing room as he pushes through and stumbles to your bedside. “Amor. I’m here, I’m here.” He promises, blood still on his hands as he reaches for yours.

“Is it done?” You gasp out, scared for a brief moment that Marcus had been injured, but he would not have been able to come to your side if the plot had been foiled. “It is.” He murmurs, leaning down and pressing his lips to your forehead. You don’t even care that the servants can see, that the rumors will spread across Rome of your relationship with the General. He ignores the Hippocrates’s complaints about him being there as another pain rips through you and you scream, fingers crushing his own hand until the pain passes and you are panting for air. Your child is safe. Boy or girl, they will be free of your husband’s influence. “We need-” you gasp. “A ruler until the baby is older.” 

"The senate has voted. They have chosen me to be Emperor until the child is old enough." He confesses, "I did not want to become Emperor but I want to save Rome and her people from destitution." He admits just as another pain causes you to grip his hand.

Your hiss is low and almost animalistic, the pains feeling like you are being ripped in two, but you know that it is natural. Surprised that the senate had voted for Marcus, you can’t help but be pleased by that outcome. It would ensure that you do not have to be apart. He will have a large role in raising your child together. “The babe is coming.” The Hippocrates tells you from between your legs, frowning at Marcus as he looks down to see the head. “You must push, empress. As hard as you can.”

Marcus is suddenly taken back to the moment when his wife was laboring and after the silence that lingered in the air when the boy was born sleeping, he remembers his wife's cry of agony until she started convulsing. His grip on your hand tightens as his heart pounds, terrified that he is going to lose you in the same way.

Gritting your teeth, nodding as you sit up and start to scream as you bear down as hard as you can. Sweat is pouring off of you and for a moment, you want to give up and tell them that you cannot do it. The pressure on your hand makes you look up. Seeing the horror on Marcus’s face, you know that he is scared for you. For the baby. Closing your eyes, you push again, feeling the pressure suddenly release and hearing the Hippocrates exclaim happily, “a boy!”

Marcus is shaking when he hears the babe cry out and he knows he's alive. He looks at you, wanting to see if you are okay as the hippocrates cradles the crying baby who has a mop of black hair.

You hear the hushed whispers, but you don’t care. You don’t care if all of Rome knows that the baby that will one day be Emperor is Marcus’s. The Hippocrates cleans the baby up while the servants start to massage your stomach, making you wince in pain but it’s all forgotten when the babe is placed into your arms. Making you cry happy tears as you kiss his head softly.

Marcus stares down at the babe in your arms, his cries echoing in the room, and Marcus falls instantly in love. His son. He will never allow harm to come to the boy, and he will claim him as his. He is Emperor now, he can do as he wishes in regards to his personal life. He wishes to marry you and claim the child as his. “I love you.” Marcus declares, uncaring of anyone else in the room, and he leans in to kiss the forehead of the crying baby. “My son.” He whispers, wanting him to know how much he already adores him.

You beam as you look at Marcus and your son. The future is far brighter now that your love has done the impossible. He and the senate have toppled the emperors and restored order without needless bloodshed. “I love you too.” You promise, leaning forward and kissing him boldly. “Both of us do, my emperor.”

****

Marcus wraps his arm around your waist, the golden laurel on his head matches yours as you stand on the balcony. “Do you, Maximis Acacius, vow to dedicate your life to the Roman Empire and her people?” Brutus asks, his hair now greying like Marcus’s. “I do.” Maximus vows, his head nodding. Marcus is proud of his son who he has trained to be the emperor. He claimed him as his son after he was sworn in as emperor and the empire celebrated having a new emperor with a son to take over. Since that day, you and Marcus have had 3 more children who stand beside you, proud of their brother who is taking his rightful place.

You look out over the crowd, a smile on your face bright and proud. You have been incredibly lucky, Marcus has been a wonderful emperor. Rome has flourished under his care and now he willingly turns the reins over to Maximus like he had planned when he was born. “I love you.” You murmur as the crowd roars in celebration of the new emperor.

Marcus turns to look at you, older but no less beautiful. You are his world - you and the children. He leans in to nudge his nose against yours, “I love you.” He promises, pressing a soft kiss to your mouth. His entire world has changed thanks to Caracalla’s mad idea to have another man conceive the heir to Rome. In the end, Marcus is the one who won with his son as emperor and the empress as his uxor.

[idiotgojo]

eye fucking satoru <3

tags; gojo x reader | fluff, suggestive (?) | jealous (?) insecure (?) reader

note; here's some comfort before the next chapter leak... gojo comeback 😩

"I'm not jealous, I'm just—" you waved your hands in frustration, unable to put words to match what you were feeling. That was all you could manage. Gojo, on the other hand immediately understood. He smirked, narrowing his eyes at you.

"You really don’t realize the effect you have on me, do you?"

And that was how you ended up on top straddling him, both of you still fully clothed. The heat of his body radiated through your thighs as you sat on top of him.

“What are we even doing? I’m tired. Let’s just go to bed,” you sighed, trying to lift yourself off his lap, though a part of you wasn’t entirely convinced.

"While my princess is mad at me? I'd rather die than let you sleep upset with me," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. His hands tightened on your waist, keeping you locked in place, as his gaze softened just a little with a pout.

Suddenly, a wave of insecurity hit you out of nowhere. You were usually confident—quick-witted, and perfectly aware of your beauty. But something about the way that other woman had flirted with him earlier stirred doubts. She was a contrast of you—different hair, a niche style, a whole different vibe. Was Gojo craving something new? Was he tired of you?

Just as your mind began spiraling, his palm faintly tapped your thigh, bringing you back to the present. You bit your lip, refusing to meet his eyes, knowing if you did, you might just fall apart in front of him.

"Look at me," Gojo said softly, yet firmly, as he gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Your eyes remained fixed on your fidgety hands in your lap. But Gojo wasn’t the type to let things go so easily. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered,

"I dare you to look into my eyes and see what happens."

You hesitated, but curiosity, or maybe just him, got the best of you. Slowly, you met his gaze.

In seconds, you felt it—him hardening beneath you, unmistakable and sudden. You gasped, instinctively glancing down at his growing length pressing against the thin fabric of your clothes. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you blushed furiously.

Gojo chuckled, reaching up to grab your chin with one hand, tilting your head up to meet his eyes again. His other hand slid up your thigh, teasing.

"Now do you see the effect you have on me?" he asked, his voice loud with excitement, eyes locked on yours that sent a shiver down your spine. The corner of his mouth lifted in a sly smile as he waited for you to respond.

Words failed you, your brain fuzzy, buzzing with the intensity of the moment. Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a searing kiss. His lips claimed yours, biting gently on your lower lip, eliciting a moan from you. The pressure of his body beneath yours, the friction as you rocked your hips against him—it all made your pulse race, drowning out every thought but him.

Both of you groaned softly into each other’s mouths, hands roaming feverishly. The heat between you was undeniable, and the tension finally snapped as you deepened the kiss, tongues tangling, breathing ragged and needy.

That night, Gojo didn’t just show you his desire—he made it clear that you were the only one he ever wanted. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word left no room for doubt. You were his one and only.

disclaimer (?); a lot of ??? in the whole post, which is probably because I'm not even a real writer. I just write for fun, a place to collect and keep my scenarios I create in my head before I go to bed lol. This is my first written piece! Enjoy :)

© idiotgojo 2024 do not steal or translate. if you wish to use the idea and create a better fic please tag me :)

[snowball-doie]

| pairing: Haechan x fem!Reader x Jaehyun

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. Poly ilichil. MLM behavior. Breast feeding. Lactation kink.

| wc: 1.6k

| aurora's note: originally written for my poly!ilichil x fem!oc fic. edited as much as possible to be reader friendly. also wrote this in the middle of the night, so i apologize for any errors

It was beginning to piss you off, the uncomfortableness from being so full throughout the morning. The baby'd woken up in the middle of the night, maybe around 2AM, screaming and crying, an obvious tell that she was hungry. Jungwoo brought her to yours and Mark's room, gently woke you up, then handed her over for you to feed. You were half awake the entire time. Mark was dead asleep, Jungwoo was brushing your hair with his fingers to comfort you, and the rest of the house was quiet. You were beginning to hate the fact that you were the only person in the family who could feed your daughter-- Sure, she would wean off eventually and move onto bottles, and then the boys could take turns; Until then, you were all she had.

But once she went back to sleep around 3AM in Jungwoo's room, you couldn't sleep. One of your breasts was still full and tender... The other was sore from being suckled, and as the sun rose, it began to feel full too. You tried to distract yourself. Watching movies in the living room, scrolling through videos on your phone, making a snack in the kitchen. Nothing worked. So you crawled back into bed, this time with Johnny who rolled over in his sleep to embrace you in his arms before the two of you crashed. And then there was more crying around 6AM. The whole house woke up finally, Jungwoo and Doyoung bringing the baby into the room while Johnny helped you sit up and get comfortable before taking her in your arms. You tried to help yourself by having her latch onto the opposite breast than before-- However, she wanted nothing to do with you. She was crying like she was hungry, but no matter what you did, she just wouldn't give in. So Doyoung took her back. Jaehyun and Haechan entered, both of them visibly exhausted, Haechan rubbing his eyes under his glasses.

"Oh, sweet girl, what is it, hmmm?" Jaehyun cooed while Doyoung handed her over to him. "Why're you giving your mom so much trouble?"

"Maybe she just had a nightmare?" Doyoung theorized.

"Maybe."

Slowly, she calmed down in Jaehyun's arms, the crying turning into coos that turned into snores. Doyoung offered to put her in the crib in his room since it was the furthest down the hall, so if she started crying again so early, no one else would be bothered by it. He and Jungwoo left with the baby, Johnny slowly slumped back into his pillows, and Haechan and Jaehyun turned like they were ready to leave.

"Wait--" you called out to them.

They both stopped.

"Please... It hurts..."

They turned to look at you, worried. What hurt? Did you need something? Whatever it was, they were always willing to help, just say the word and they would turn back time for you. So they approached you slowly while watching you struggle to get comfortable in bed, Johnny making more room for you to sit with the two of them.

“She won’t drink from the right side,” you whined. “It fucking hurts now.”

Haechan climbed onto the bed to settle between you and Johnny, his hands drifting upwards to massage your sore right breast. Jaehyun sat on the edge of the bed at your left side.

“They’re uneven. They’re full. It hurts like a bitch to have her just sucking on it for hours and have nothing happen. I’m so fucking over it. Please, just do something…”

A direct request was unnecessary by that point. Jaehyun and Haechan were like sharks lured into bait the way they were staring directly at your tits, both of them eagerly trying to free you again from your maternity clothing. Haechan was the first to do something— The second you were free from the restraints of your bra, he leaned in to wrap his lips gently around the sensitive nipple of your right side which hurt the most. You moaned with relief. It wasn’t sexual, not this time at least… In the past, especially when the boys first came home from tour to see you so, so pregnant, Jae and Hyuck couldn’t keep their hands to themselves, they were always trying to fuck you or at least suck on your tits. Now that there was a baby taking everyone’s attention and all of your physical wellness, they had retreated slightly in order to let you focus on getting better… But you needing them so badly that you had to beg for their help made it impossible for them to hold back anymore; and once Jaehyun began sucking on your left nipple, you couldn’t help but feel completely as peace with the fact that you were finally being given the aid you so desperately needed after weeks of nothing but diapers, baby vomit, and having issues getting her to latch on to you.

Jae looked up at you through his lashes. He could tell that the baby had drunk from that side earlier so it was more sore than full, which meant that he had to be more kind to you than Hyuck who was eagerly sucking and massaging, moaning quietly as he did so. The fullness that kept you up all morning was finally fading… You felt tired all of a sudden. They did you a favor by drinking up everything stored away inside of your body just so you could get another few hours of rest before inevitably waking up again with that same, unbearable fullness and a crying baby down in Doyoung’s bedroom.

Between the two of them, Haechan was more into the idea of the milk aspect. He loved the taste, and the intimacy of having his hair played with while he suckled, drinking every single drop until both of you were satisfied. As for Jaehyun, the attraction came out of wanting to help you. Knowing that he was the one rushing to your aid, the one watching as you melted and thanked him for getting rid of the soreness, your body slumping against his, all of it made Jae swoon. He’d do anything for your family. It was the most important thing in the entire world to him— Helping you out, no matter the request or the cost was the best thing you could ask of him.

Hyuck pulled away first to catch his breath. As he did so, a bit of milk dribbled out of your nipple and slid down your breast. He immediately went to catch it with his tongue, licking up the trail of liquid to make sure he got every bit of it before returning to sucking on you. Your hands found warmth in his long brown hair that he refused to cut ever since the baby was born because he loved how she would reach up to tug on it when he’d play with her.

Jae pulled away next, his hand still cupping the underside of your breast, fingers gently kneading the fat. “Feeling better?”

All you could do was nod in your state of tranquility.

He quietly chortled. “Should’ve woken one of us up earlier.”

“I felt bad,” you replied.

“Don’t,” Hyuck said. “We’d rather lose sleep than see you in pain.” And then he went right back to his task with a satisfied groan and a roll of his hips into the bed.

Jaehyun moved one of his hands down to your thighs for him to massage that too in tandem with your tit. With nothing else dribbling out or left to suck on, he knew that you were tapped out on his side, so all he could do was try to keep you relaxed while Haechan played the catch up game on the other side in order to even you out like you asked for.

“We’ll start weaning her off this week,” Jae said. “Need to give you a break so it doesn’t keep getting this bad. We’ll make a schedule for bottle feeding, too, that way it’s fair.”

You thought about how all of that was already decided in your mind hours ago when you were sitting on the couch watching TV, but hearing Jaehyun say it out loud with Haechan and a half-asleep Johnny as witnesses made you feel like it was real, that the boys would finally get to chip in so you could sleep for an entire night.

Hyuck pulled away while licking his lips and sighing heavily. He was done, too, the pain in your breasts subsiding at a rapid pace.

“Thank you,” you whispered, sinking into the bed some more.

Hyuck kissed you passionately, the taste of your milk on his hot tongue.

“If you guys are gonna fuck, can you do it in one of your rooms,” Johnny grumbled as he rolled onto his stomach and stuffed his face full of his pillow.

Jae pulled Hyuck away from you, muttering something about how you looked too tired to have sex, and that you needed to rest before the baby would wake up again. Haechan seemed a bit disappointed, but he was also incredibly understanding. So despite his hard-on in his pajama pants, Haechan adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose then slid off the bed after Jaehyun leaned in to kiss your cheek. You wanted to ask for them to stay or at least help you into one of their rooms where the three of you could cuddle together, but exhaustion hit you like a truck in a single instant, preventing you from forming a coherent sentence. They just laughed at how cute you were when you were that tired. Then with another kiss and a quiet series of “I love you,” they left, and Johnny reached to scoop you into his arms again.

[oldbutchdaniel]

iwtv fanfic friday <3

happy weekend reading!

all human decisions by LuckyDiceKirby (@luckydicekirby) m, 19k

Daniel’s bastard maker had the advantage over him: he could travel by daylight. By the time Daniel woke at dusk, sprawled on the couch and actually literally tucked in, there was no sign of him. Well, fuck Armand. Daniel might be a newly minted best-selling conspiracy theorist whose sanity was being publicly debated on every existing social media platform, but he was still a journalist. He could track down one monstrous extremely divorced serial killer, easy.

(armand is sooooooo annoying in this. he's everything to me.)

colour me your colour, baby by hederabug m, 2.6k

“Daniel.” Daniel hears the soft, but insistent voice first as a distant call, as if she’s submerged in water. She breathes air when Armand’s hand grabs at her shoulder. “Wake up, lover.” Armand is on all fours, hands and knees on the bed above where Daniel’s still lying down, so they’re face to face. Armand’s brown eyes are glinting with some manic light, her face cast in shadow, striking chiaroscuro, lit only by the dull amber glow of the bedside table.

(rest assured i will be doing a dm yuri theme week soon and rest assured this will be on it. but it was too good not to include here. i need like 17 more fics in this series)

With His Heart Still Intact (They Didn't Do It Right) by CaravanOfCrows (@asthedeathoflight) t, 6k

A series of collisions; in which free will exists but fate isn't going down without a fight. (surely Armand and Daniel only have extremely normal feelings about freedom and agency and destiny)

(WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT THE DM SOULMATE AU AGAIN. CAN WE TALK ABOUT IT PLEASE)

marketplace heart-eater by eggalbumin m, 6k

Daniel picks up a blade from the stack of discarded tools in the kidney tray. It has blood on it. “I’m a little scared to ask,” he says, with the aura of someone who isn’t very scared of asking at all, “but who’s blood is this?” Mine. Yours. My master’s, twice-diluted. Why does it matter anymore? It’s poison either way. “The doctor was just showing me how to do incisions. It’s fascinating work.”

(really fucking awesome armand character study. the first time i ever found marius compelling due to the fact that he's written from the lens of armand's tangled knot of being. like i think he should be killed with hammers as much as the next guy but he makes for such a fascinating narrative concept)

did you believe in the glass city by tei @bloodripelives nr, 5.9k

"Yes," Armand breathes. "Yes. Is anything they did to me worse than what I have done to you?" Daniel wants to say yes, but shit, he's not even sure what Armand had done to him. And whatever it was, he is sure that he would have let him do worse.

(daniel tracks down marius for the sake of armand's tangled knot of being. it goes as well as you would expect. so fucking beautiful and soooo fucking compelling. made me cry at least twice. read it now)

[itsaship-literally]

It’s A Ship - Literally Revisited

As many of my long-time followers and friends know…

THIS BLOG supports the POTENTIAL FUTURE of Beetlejuice and Lydia.

In the past, I have written posts about WHY we ship Beej and Lyds, specifically here on this blog, when there are so many controversies. It needed to be cleared up many times because, with every new piece of media, there comes opposition, which is totally understandable if you are not used to supernatural or horror-themed romance tropes.

I am here to help break it down for all the new fans sitting back and trying to figure out the ship's where, what, why and whens.

Here we go!

Movie verse:

Many of us were young when we met Beetlejuice and Lydia for the first time. Some latched on to and related to a young Winona Ryder. It was a vibe, and while we are well aware that in real-life terms, a teen is not ready to be involved with a 600+ ghost (cuz that’s an option 🤣), we couldn't help but find the allure in the Living Meets Death dichotomy. As you will undoubtedly see, this is a running theme in the fandom.

We had countless reunion fics featuring an older Lydia (sometimes by years, sometimes by months) reconnecting with her villain/antagonist. Many were dark fic, some light and fluffy and some off the wall chaotic, while some crossed over into the MoToon verse (yes that is a thing)

So here we are, more than 30 years later, and our pair reunited legitimately on the big screen. It was beautiful and, without giving away any spoilers since this new piece of media is still fresh, it gives us more to play with because, let’s face it, he is not done haunting her.

With this movie universe, there is still potential for this ship to thrive. (And that’s not just because Winona and Michael are down. I still am in shock over their revelations)

Toon Verse:

Yet another oldie that many grew up on. This one is a hotbed for both friend-shipping and Relation-shipping.

Here, we have a long-term bond that can be wholesome, platonic, romantic, complicated, or, on occasion, dark and twisted.

Stories have ranged from childhood crushes to outright possessiveness. The fanart from cute fluff to… well… rule 34.

Lydia is young in this cartoon. We are aware of that and in any cartoon fandom, aging up is par for the course. It is expected (and preferred by many) that any stories of romance happen in circumstances outside of the toon cannon.

Age issues aside, we cannot deny that BJ adores her. The man has an entire shrine in his head, idolizing this twisted, weird girl that, once again, many older fans related to. He would do anything for her and has proved it many times. The chaotic dead man with no shits to give will give up freedom and wealth and go against his nature to make her happy.

How can we not find the potential for a future of these two goofballs?

Musical Verse:

This universe combined the goofiness of Toon with the antagonism of the movie—a nice combo that I and those we call MusicalBabes enjoy.

Regardless of what the cast believes or feels about the shipping subject, they are working with a pair of unseen, attention-starved, chaotic nut jobs—a compliment, not disparagement.

Beetlejuice and Lydia need each other. They were miserable before they met and would have continued to be so had they not entangled themselves in the other’s existence.

Living and the dead, once again, need each other to balance their lonliness.

Does musical verse have ship potential? Hell, yes, it does. (Also, this is the only piece of media where the wedding actually went through)

Just a few Common Tropes In This Ship: (there are so many more than this)

Mayfly/December Romance (also see: May/December and Age Gap)

Reincarnation Romance

Death and the Maiden (also see: Monster and the Maiden)

Beast and Beauty

Ugly Guy, Hot Wife

Boy meets Ghoul

Why the name Beetlebabes?

Read: Beetlebabes: A History

To find more ship related content use: Beetlejuice x Lydia, Betelyds (alt. Beetlyds), Beej and Lyds, Beetle and Babes, Beetz and Deetz (or more simply Beetz) are the original ship names. BeetleBabes, MovieBabes, ToonBabes and MusicalBabes are all relatively new.

This blog often uses Beetlebabes but it’s not a hard fast rule that it will be on every post.

The goal of Its A Ship - Literally...

I created this blog many years ago (around 2016) to collect all the goodness in the fandom. Memes, art, fics, fan theories. I picked up the ship names and used them as tags. Gathered as much as I could from Tumblr posts, in all universes, and tried so hard to stay neutral amidst the internal fandom drama. (give or take a few misteps, iykyk)

The only goal I have here is to collect and share and boost all universes. Movie, Toon and Musical, including the mini verses of MoToon and Graveyard Revue if I can find it.

I do this for fun, to destress and play internet magpie with shiny beetle stuff while I stuff everything into the queue.

Lots of love to you guys. And as always, please show love to your fan creators. Credit them and boost the signals. These creators do so much hard work.

- 🪲 - 🪲 - 🪲 - 🪲 - 🪲 -

Previous Posts Like This: Because It Needs to Be Said Yet Again (2017) | One More Time (2019)

[aziraphales-library]

hello, i've been on the aziraphale-centric fics kick because he is one of my favorite characters ever :( <33 i wondered if you all have any azi centric fics to recommend? i really like hurt/comfort and hurt aziraphale :-) thank u <3

Hi. We have some Aziraphale-centric fics here, so check those out (it includes that one you're thinking of, so you don't need to add it in the notes). Here are some more...

A Gradual Acceleration by PunJedi (G)

Aziraphale has to deal with 6000 years worth of pent-up feelings and what happens when the world doesn't end on schedule. It's a tricky thing, love; his modus operandi has been to ignore it. But there reaches a point at which it simply cannot be ignored. Crowley is willing to wait, though.

It's Not The End Of The World by mellohirust (T)

“I think I'm still worried about… our old sides.” This is where he expects said bomb to explode. This is his fatal flaw, that he hasn't actually moved on, that things aren't actually as over as he wants them to be. It's all they've ever wanted, and they didn't truly have it. Not in his mind. Not somewhere deep within him, like a disease, like something he couldn't pry out of him. How selfish would he be, to drag the other down with him just for reassurance, force him to relive it all? Crowley stays quiet. Aziraphale feels as if he's confessed to something awful, like a part of him was fundamentally incompatible with the other. Aziraphale suspects both of these things could be the case and Crowley would love him anyway. He has it written down, somewhere in his mind, what Crowley ought to say. It’s not what he actually winds up saying. “Yeah,” the other finally mumbled, after what felt like eternity. He draws a breath. “Yeah, me too.” - Aziraphale hasn't been able to let himself rest in six thousand years. Crowley's determined to help him change that, even if addressing the root of the problem is more unpleasant and complicated than either would've hoped for.

So Still I Wait by HotCrossPigeon (T)

Aziraphale asks one too many questions. What is Heaven to do with their wayward Principality? Crowley picks up the pieces. (Solitary confinement warning)

A Hard World for Little Things by GiggleSnortBangDead (E)

When the Almighty Lord created the universe and decided that desire would exist within it, They hadn’t exactly said: “This shall go on top, and this on bottom.” But there was an ordering of things and a hierarchy of desire. That’s how it was explained to Aziraphale. All of us serve, he had been taught, and some of us are happy to serve a little more.

Night and Day by wyrmy (E)

Aziraphale Engel, black sheep of his strictly religious family, lives a quiet and monkish existence in the middle of London, trying to avoid the many temptations of the flesh and do his bit for the church that his father founded. But his quiet, untroubled, and unhappily narrow existence is about to come to an end, and he will be faced with the choice to give up even more of who he is or to survive in the real world.

Smitten at First Fright by Oopsynini (M)

Aziraphale has problems. No one needs to tell him so, he's well aware that his issues are many and in-between. He's an agoraphobic shut-in with a bad back and a sad past. It's a rule that, to most, he isn't much worth the effort of getting to know. Crowley doesn't seem to abide by any of that. He's an enigmatic gardener with a green thumb and a smile a thousand miles wide. It's something like love at first sight; if that included a panic attack and a minor foray into bird watching. Aziraphale is smitten, now if only he could get past his fears and admit it.

- Mod D

[wanderingblindly]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers! Spread the self-love 💞

oooooooh this is so cruel, how dare you make me consider my fics this way????? reflecting on this made me realize that a lot of my personal favs are actually my less popular ones. that makes sense, in a way; often my favorites are where i'm trying to express a really specific emotion or idea, which might not always resonate with people? anyways, ordered from oldest to newest:

Eighteenth Summer (Do You Wish We'd Fall in Love?)

ambient, pining, sort of sepia toned vignette filtered lestappen. i remember really wanting to capture the ambiguity that comes with being 18 and finishing high school -- a new future looms even when you feel like you haven't finished living what you have now. very much being on a precipice, but with a happy ending :)

You Bring Me Closer To God

i literally fucking love this universe so much. even if the fic wasn't special, writing all the dynamics between the bandmates, between the bar flies, between oscar and lando... it was such a joy. i still think about writing more within Dirty Blondes all the time.

I Know Your Name (But Not Who You Are)

lestappen in grief! the passage of time! the fear that life has somehow stopped moving on but also changed more than you can stomach! wanting things from your childhood but having to accept that you can never go back! but perhaps learning that moving forward is beautiful, too! yet another one where i entered it trying to capture a specific feeling, and i think i managed to like... use the setting in a way that achieved that.

Someone in Seattle

i like this one because i managed to write a fic i'd love to read. i love fics that explore the soft, meandering development of relationships -- the ones where falling in love is a bit of a blurry line, and it happens just by the nature of truly Seeing each other. it's a love letter to my home, and i think of her very fondly.

Impasse of Biting

THIS IS THE ONLY FIC WHERE I FEEL LIKE I GOT EVEN CLOSER TO LIKE. SOMETHING YOU COULD ANALYZE. THERE ARE CHARACTER MOTIVATIONS! THERE'S SPECIFIC WORD CHOICE! THERE'S UNRELIABLE NARRATION AND COMPLICATED EMOTIONAL TIES! idk. it's one that i feel like each reader could come away with something wildly different, and (as someone who doesn't often deal in ambiguity), that makes me proud.

[34saveme34]

FINALLY HERE!!!

Imperfect Integrity 3/5 for Ties AU (check out my fic tag to see the others if you didn't catch up yet!)

this is quite marware fic

some silly warnings: self harm, blood, emotional so fucking emotional, gay, there's gay sex mentions (NOT CLICKBAIT), 4 being an asshole

20k words, so far the longest thing I had ever written, if I keep this up, which I'll probably will, the Ties AU at the end might turn out to be like, 100k words overall or so but that's just an estimate

also as an aside, for the next part you will need to watch Meta runners to understand the stuff in it, otherwise it won't make sense. so if like you want to watch in like. Idk when I'll be able to write AND finish it but it'll probably take a while until I get there.

now when I don't feel exhausted, I'll start working on the Magical AU ep 1 and probably like try to remember worldbuilding stuff I forgot to write down like an idiot

anyways, enjoy!

It had been a while since Mr Puzzles was cleared of the dredged piece. It really cleared his mind, even more overtime. Although, with no money, he didn’t quite know what to do. As he walked around the city, trying to jog his mind, to give him something to work with, he spotted one of his rivals. Or well…. to him more of an ex rival. They locked eyes, Puzzles wasn’t sure how they were feeling. Staring at him with such a mysterious expression, veiled by maybe his still foggy mind or he just forgot how to understand people.

“Puzzles…?” he could hear them speak. Puzzles suddenly straightened himself up as he was caught off guard. Maybe he even stared, how embarrassing!

“Y-.. Yes! It is… I…” he chuckled awkwardly.

“You’re… not here to scheme again, are you?”

“Hm? Oh… I kind of stopped that. Especially with my old studio smashed to the ground” he might’ve sounded a bit too devastated, something he didn’t mean to be in front of someone like this, someone who knew what he was before way too well and felt it on their skin. Even if they never exactly fully met face to face, especially not in such a casual way as now.

“Yeah, I’ve heard about it! I didn’t want to believe it. I mean, someone like you, losing your… your…”

“My everything? Yes, indeed… Is that all you want?”

“Uhm… I don’t know. I never quite got close to talking to you. You were always so…intimidating”

“Yeah I- I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t quite myself, to say the least”

They looked at him shocked.

“You- You’re saying sorry? Huh… You really changed.”

“For the better I think” Puzzles smiled fondly, one man crossing his mind.

“Heh… Well, I’m sure. So, what will you do now?”

“Well, I kind of don’t have anywhere to go and I’m out of a job”

They didn’t reply for a while, seemingly thinking something over.

“Hey… c’mere, maybe I can offer you something good”

“Oh? Sure” Puzzles took a seat in front of them.

Only now did he fully get a good look at them. They were in a white sundress, had green eyes and gray long hair, let loose draping their face a bit, one of their eyes barely visible. He was kind of used to seeing them in suits and other formal clothing from pictures so it was an interesting change. He really needed that sort of casual vibe right now.

“So… You may have been a boss before but… what do you say to working for me? I know you’re qualified so we don’t even have to bother with that nonsense” they smiled. They were serious about their offer. If Puzzles still had a jaw, it would’ve dropped. He still clearly looked shocked though.

“What? You’re a great catch when it comes to this industry. It’s even YOU doing me a favour. And don’t worry, I’d pay you accordingly too, you can name your price”

“Well… I’d like it if it was fair to the others as well. I don’t want to be paid that much more compared to other workers”

“So a little bit more?”

“Sure but- what position do you have?”

“Oh just- whatever”

“...Whatever?”

“Whatever you can take when you come to it”

“So… An… Everchanging position?”

“Well… considering you’re really skilled in all fields of movie making, I feel I would stifle your potential if I forced you into a single position”

“You flatter me”

They laughed.

“You earned it, Mr Puzzles. Even though you were a vindictive… ahem asshole, it’s hard to deny that you always were an extremely talented person”

“Hm… heh” he chuckled “Well, sure, I’ll take it. Let’s just make it official at some point” Puzzles added almost awkwardly. The offer did find him pretty suddenly so he might have rushed into it. Then again, he didn’t see anything bad to it. Though it’ll definitely make headlines that he’s working for a rival of his. There will probably be rumors about it. He didn’t care though, since he would still get to do what he always loved doing.

Just as his now soon to be boss was handing him a business card, he heard wild yelling. Not just any yelling, it was his name being yelled. And it was rapidly getting closer. As he turned to the source of the noise, said source tackled him.

“Mario needs you!!” Mario yelled, as the source of the sudden noise as he was sort of straddling Puzzles with how he knocked him over.

“Uhm…?” his soon to be boss looked over at the 2 and thought for a bit. Then they laughed “Well, alright, here” they gave him their business card “Just call me when you’re not busy being tackled by men” they winked then left. 

Puzzles felt a little hot as he got up, then ripped Mario off of himself as well, considering how he was latched onto him. Puzzles, being tackled by men? No! That never happened before. Mario tackling him down was an exception. And it didn’t mean anything more than that. He just… needed him for whatever reason.

“Mario needs you!!!” Mario repeated himself, looking up at Puzzles with his big blue eyes. God, maybe he will do whatever he wants! Who said that.

“What do you need me for?” he sighed, giving in, asking him as he crouched down to his level. 

“For research. For SMG1 and SMG2”

“Uhuuuh. And why exactly?”

“Our link.” Mario said as if Puzzles was already well versed in Cosmology lore.

“Our what now?”

“The thing I did for you to not die. Though it was on accident… Mario will do lotta accidents but he didn’t think he could do such a big one!”

Mario almost looked proud of himself.

“Hm… Well” Puzzles smiled at Mario, with such a disgustingly sweet smile, it couldn’t be more genuine “I’m glad you did, you really saved me. I would still be lost if it wasn’t for you”

Mario seemed to be lost looking at Puzzles’s screen. Almost as if he froze. It took a good few seconds for him to respond.

“S… So!! Mario needs you!! Right now!!” Mario picked up Puzzles and started running with him at a speed Puzzles didn’t think was possible for the avatar to achieve. He… truly had some wonderful tricks up his sleeves. And didn’t it just make him more endearing? Who said that. 

Mario ran with him to 1 and 2’s place, not stopping even for a moment before getting there. Almost like he was doing everything in himself to focus only on going and nothing else around him. 

They arrived and Mario quickly dropped Puzzles down once he entered 1 and 2’s home.

“There you 2 are!” 2 cheered.

“So, we can start, yes?” 1 chimed in too.

“What will this be for anyways?” Puzzles asked, still sort of confused with the situation.

“You see, Mr Puzzles, what you have with Mario is really special.”

Puzzles tried very hard to not interpret that in a different way than it was meant to. No way anyways! Mario was not his type. He wasn’t even sure if he would even like anyone though. He never really had people like that in his life. At all honestly.

“Special how exactly?”

“Well… uh, exposition time I guess! 2, get the exposition powerpoint!” 

2 brought out a projector, 1 pulled down a white projector background out of nowhere. Puzzles was a little impressed by how well the meme guardians were prepared for this kind of thing. Kind of made him think about the ways he thought of handling stuff before he went really crazy… Good times.

“So you see, I, SMG1, as well as SMG2, we are meme guardians, and also partners. As in cosmically linked. You see, this was something that was inherent to us since we started existing.”

2 flipped to an image of the 2, with their hands linked, in the process of transmuting a meme.

“Started existing? Cosmically linked?” Puzzles was trying to keep up.

“Yes, we are ageless in a sense. Maybe… Immortal is more correct? And yes, cosmically linked. Sort of like being soulmates. It’s so we can share our power and make each other stronger as well. While we can work on our own as well, working together almost always brings better results. Like what you see on the slide, this is us transmuting memes! The same is true for SMG3 and SMG4 as well. Now… You 2”

he sighed.

“I… I don’t really know to be fair” he admitted.

Silence filled the room. Puzzles was thinking how to react.

‘“Well uh… that’s why I’m here, right? So you can figure it out” Puzzles tried to be optimistic for 1 and 2.

“Right!” 2 chimed in. 1 was starting to feel better about it now.

“Yeah, I guess so”

“Should I bring the memes, 1?”

“Just what I was thinking! Almost like you read my mind”

2 giggled before leaving to get the memes.

“What do you need the memes for?” Puzzles asked.

“You see… I was wondering if your weirdly created link can also manipulate memes or not. Considering Mario is literally the avatar of this world- Oh yeah, Mario being the avatar means if he gets killed the whole world goes to ruin. He’s like the heart of this universe. Oh yeah, we come from a different universe, it’s just since we… lost our avatar, it went to ruin, it became uninhabitable. Dwelling on the past so much is no good though ahah.”

Puzzles was just nodding along.

“Say uh… I’ve been thinking… I remember when SMG3 and SMG4 mended their severed ties… although in a pretty dreamlike way, considering I wasn’t fully there but- they had their literal physical ties well- located differently”

“Physical ties?” 1 looked at him curiously “Why didn’t they mention this to me or 2” Puzzles could almost imagine the kind of talking to 3 and 4 will get about this… Ah, well, not his problem.

2 came back with the memes.

“I was just mentioning it” Puzzles started again, slowly to make sure he had 1’s attention again “Because their ties were on their hands, while with Mario, he does have it on his hands, I actually have it right by my collarbone”

“Oooh, the same place Mario grabbed with all his will to make sure you don’t die!” Mario added with a cheery tone, as if it wasn’t traumatic at all.

“E-... Ah, exactly, Mario” Puzzles sighed.

“Hm” 1 immediately grabbed a few notes to scribble on “I wonder if their locations being different could affect anything in this… even the fact that neither of you are meme guardians!”

he still seemed to be a bit frustrated with this whole thing. Puzzles kind of felt bad.

“It’s my fault, I’m sorry” he spoke quietly but everyone looked at him. 1 panicked a bit.

“Oh no no no, I’m so glad to know this is actually possible! I’ve never seen anything like this! I’m just frustrated because it’s hard to figure out!” 

Puzzles showed a weak smile.

“Besides, it’s also Mario’s fault” Mario chimed in as he stood closer to Puzzles, as if he was trying to comfort him.

They got to a few tests after finally everyone was okay. They came to a few conclusions: The power of the link can be measured physically, however it is more chaotic than the average guardian link, thus it is more unstable. It cannot affect memes, however it has the potential to be more powerful than that. Though that was just a theory from 1 based on how it managed to save Puzzles from going back. However he did note the shared pain being so intense must have something to do with it. 

As they were leaving, Mario didn’t seem to leave his side.

“What?” Puzzles looked at him.

Mario seemed to struggle before finally spitting out something that had been on his rather empty, echoey mind of his. 

“Mario was thinking if you want to live with him!! Considering that he knows you don’t have anywhere else to go right now!!” 

Puzzles was taken aback. He chuckled, his face feeling a bit hot, hot enough that Mario noticed.

“Heh, uhm well, didn’t know you took such a liking to me, Mario” it almost felt like Puzzles was teasing Mario, even though it wasn’t his intention at all. He just wanted to stop feeling like a shaking leaf over kindness.

More concerning, Mario seemed to stop, again, that frozen face of his. Puzzles was scared he hurt him, immediately trying to make it right.

“I mean! That you feel sorry enough for me! I mean uhm, you must not be inviting just any homeless person to live with you!” if he could sweat right now…

Mario slowly regained the composure he seemingly lost.

“Hey now, I do like you a little bit” Mario said cheerfully as he went to lead the way to his and Luigi’s house.

Likes him a little bit? Oh those words were like flints trying to spark something and slowly causing a fire inside his head, making him even more stupid about this whole situation… Oh, it must be the link! There wasn’t anything weird to be explained here, he was just feeling this way because of their link and nothing else. Especially since it happened so recently too! Who knows, it could be actively lying to him about his feelings!

They went inside the house, Luigi greeted him. 

“Mario did say you had nowhere else to go so I agreed that you could live here until you figure something out!” 

“Thank you, it really does mean a lot to me, more than anything” Puzzles sounded so awfully grateful practically on his knees but that could’ve been because he was so god damn tall, it had both brothers ever so lightly flustered. Just a tiny bit but enough to where Puzzles was starting to notice it.

“Oh, of course! It’s the best we can do, it really isn’t much!” Luigi was the more awkward one while Mario just laughed then stared in front of himself. It was almost like he was asserting dominance with just his gaze. Puzzles once again felt awkward.

“Oh, did I mess up… This social interacting thing really isn’t my strong suit right now-”

“Oh, you’re fine, really! Just never had someone so grateful for hospitality is all” Luigi finally sounded fine again “Besides, you can always really thank us by helping around. Mario is like a tornado of messes anyways and I wouldn’t mind help with that”

“Hey! I’m not that bad” Mario defended himself.

“Heh, what, bro? You want to look good in front of your new friend?”

Friend.

Friend.

Friend.

Friend

Oh, it rang so many times in Puzzles’s head. It should have settled in at this point but hearing it like this what did it. Sometimes he still thought he was living in that total loneliness he used to be in before. He smiled. He smiled so much, if he could he would’ve cried.

“I’m your friend?” he sounded like he was genuinely crying.

The 2 brothers looked at him.

“Of course! You’re our friend!”

“Mario thinks you’re pretty cool”

He grabbed both in a tight hug before setting them down again and leaving immediately to a different room. He didn’t even know the layout but he sure was going. At least he was exploring on his own! Oh, he was feeling like a dumbass then. He seemed to stop in what was possibly Mario’s room, considering how messy it looked. But it did smell like him so it was definitely his room. His smell had such a comforting effect on Puzzles, probably due to the fact that the link they newly formed was having undeniably strange effects on him that can’t be attributed to anything else. Nothing else at all. Besides he could NEVER be into fat italians. Just a combo he always found unappealing. So why would he EVER find that type of man interesting or worth his time now? Not even character development could ever do that to him! Just a forceful cosmic link that makes you believe untrue and super false things!

Mario opened the door to see Puzzles on his bed. It was kind of silly, considering he was not even close to being able to fit on the bed. He was just way too tall and lanky to fit on there right. It made Mario chuckle which made Puzzles notice him. They stared at each other for a bit, before Puzzles got up.

“I got in your bed- that wasn’t my intention”

“Mhmmm… It also doesn’t seem big enough for you…”

“Huh? Yea I- How did I not realise that” Puzzles laughed awkwardly as he decided to just plop down on the ground instead.

“It’s okay, Mario understands. Puzzles man only recently became normal”

Puzzles nodded, not knowing what else he could add to this. He didn’t want to run his mouth and say something stupid again. Was he always this much of an idiot? He could barely remember at this point.

Mario could easily notice the frown forming on Puzzles’s screen, which only served to concern him. He sat beside him.

“You good?” 

“Oh I… Well, would you really want to listen? I think it’s just a bunch of nonsense but-”

“Yes, Mario will hear you out. You think he doesn’t think about a bunch of nonsense? You underestimate him”

Puzzles chuckled.

“Well alright… I’m just feeling really stressed… about life in general I think. Since it moved on without me- I can’t exactly resume from where I left off. And my head feels weird in general. Sometimes just… feeling like doing things without thinking or something…”

“HmmmMMmmMMMMMmMM” Mario made loud thinking noises.

“Oh? Do you have an idea on what it could be?”

“No…. although….”

“Although?”

“SMG4 noted before that I acted pretty weird lately”

“Oh huh?”

“In his words ‘Why did you just suggest something good to my videos that wasn’t a meme?’ “

Well this puzzled the Puzzle. 

“What did you suggest?”

“Don’t remember” Mario looked aside for a moment then he seemed to become rather content about himself.

“This is weird… We should talk about it with SMG4 sometime…”

“Mmmm… wait!!” Mario suddenly got up and ran to a calendar “We’ll have vacation soon!!”

“V… Vacation?”

“Yeah! SMG4 said we all deserve one good break!!”

“Huh! So um… I won’t see you for a bit?”

“No way!”

Mario furrowed his brows before he grabbed his phone and went outside. Was interesting seeing Mario act this way… not just stubborn but so… He didn’t even know how to put it into words.

As he sat there, beside Mario’s bed, his mind started to wander, listening to the silence better and the noises hidden in it… The analogue clock that was hung on the wall dominated it although he could hear other things. Like the wind outside. Steps sounding across the halls outside. Even the light hum of his screen finding him. It was rather peaceful, it let him think. He still needed to think about a lot. Or maybe just not think at all. The idea seemed rather attractive. Even though he now cringed as he remembered how tightly he hugged the 2 brothers before running off like a mindless idiot. Good thing Mario didn’t seem to question it. Maybe he should look at things in a similar way! Do first, question why later. Or never, preferably. What could possibly go wrong?

As he was deep in his thoughts, what stirred him from his daydreaming was yelling outside. He now knew it to be Mario, it was rather well… fitting to him. No one else could yell the same way as Mario does. What an odd thing to note for Puzzles…He chose not to think about it though. Just appreciate Mario’s unique nature without further thought. 

A few minutes later, Mario came back with a big smile on his face.

“Mario convinced SMG4 to let you come with us!!” he cheered, hugging Puzzles.

The affection still felt weird, he was still battling feelings. He was sort of relieved when Mario let go of him but he still wished it back so dearly. It was probably one of those things where he couldn’t turn off his brain no matter how much he wanted to.

“You should keep hugs to a minimum, Mario” he commented.

“Awww, you don’t like hugs?” he sounded a bit sad “Really funny how you hugged us so tight before… Mario don’t get it” he looked genuinely stumped.

“I don’t know! I do but I don’t. Just- Just keep them short… please?”

“Okie-dokie!!” Mario smiled “Hmmm… what should you pack for vacation….”

“I kind of don’t have anything” he laughed awkwardly.

“Uhuh… Not even a phone?”

“Nope”

“MmmmMMMMMMMMmmmmMMMMmmmmmm damn”

“Am I not enough by myself”

“I’m gonna ask Luigi if we can get you stuff, can’t just let you come with us with zero planning. That could generate issues we could combat right now instead of leaving it for later”

Mario left. His tone was different from usual. This man was LEADING and with GRACE at that. Puzzles felt starstruck. What the fuck? Sure, Mario had his moments acting a bit outside of who he is but this was so much more. He talked like… Like how he would. Eh, it’s probably nothing!

Luigi got dragged into the room.

“Mario brought Luigi here for you”

“Sorry” Puzzles already felt the apology escaping him. He didn’t think much about it right now afterall. He didn’t think anything. He definitely wasn’t thinking. Why would he be thinking right now? Don’t be silly! He was definitely not thinking and thinking till the end of the Earth! Only the old Puzzles would think about how much of a burden he felt like as soon as he was himself again. The new Puzzles would definitely not feel like he was worth nothing or even less, or that he didn’t deserve to be forgiven even if he was kind of brainwashed.

He was definitely not thinking about any of that. He would never. End of it.

“Hey, it’s okay!” Luigi tried to reassure Puzzles “You do need some things. I heard we’re going to the nearby beach so you need at least some kind of beach clothes. Can…. Can you even go in water?”

“Everything except my head”

“Then yeah! We need swimwear for you. And we need to go shopping anyways!”

“Are you sure?” Puzzles still tried to be nice but was trying to hide so hard that he wasn’t feeling okay mentally.

“Of course! We need spaghetti for Mario anyways so I wanted to go shopping! And maybe… I know where we could get you swimwear”

“Alright” Puzzles got up, hitting his head “Sorry, I’m so tall”

Luigi giggled.

“Well, sadly that’s one thing we can’t fix”

“I think I’ll get used to it”

“Hmm…” Mario thought out loud “Maybe you can squish the spiders up there for Mario”

“Sure thing, Mario” Puzzles smiled at him before turning away, not entertaining anything in himself. Such a stupid idea to overthink such a simple thing anyways. It did freeze Mario though, especially because of the way Puzzles would say his name. Maybe he was a little unwell about Puzzles. Even Luigi noticed the tension between the 2 but decided to brush it off.

“C’mon, guys! We gotta finish while it’s still bright outside!” He left the room, the other 2 soon followed. 

Mario was oddly quiet during the shopping trip until they went to a shop that seemed to be holding just- an abhorrent amount of swimwear of all sorts. Even styles Puzzles never saw before. He was a bit overwhelmed by the selection, although less and less as he reminded himself that about 90% of the stuff sold here won’t fit him considering how god damn tall he was. They went inside, looking around. The shopkeeper, a rather old lady, came out and immediately led the 3 men to the taller section. Now there Puzzles had the chance of finding something good!

They looked around, Puzzles started to feel rather picky. He didn’t know exactly what to go for. 

“Stumped?” Luigi looked up at Puzzles as he seemed to be struggling.

“I don’t know what I exactly want”

“Aren’t bikinis hot right now?” Mario chimed in “Mario was also thinking about getting some”

Puzzles flushed red.

“Me? Showing skin? Don’t be ridiculous!” Puzzles seemed rather defensive. And utterly embarrassed. 

“Mario! Don’t just say things without thinking!” 

“But I’m Mario” 

“You embarrassed him!”

The 2 brothers went onto arguing about boundaries while Puzzles searched further. In the end he found one of those one piece swimsuits that reach from elbow to knee and seemed satisfied with that. It was probably his best choice. Luigi bought it for him. After that they also got him some clothes so he could change later. Once again something that was hard to find at first but since their wonderful world was very diverse even without Puzzles’s amazing lankiness, they found clothes that fit him.

“I’ll pay it back though!” Puzzles said “Write it up somewhere and I’ll totally have it covered as soon as I start working again!”

“Okay okay!” Luigi tried to calm Puzzles down “This won’t drive me broke! If buying Mario a yacht’s worth of spaghetti each month doesn’t then nothing will”

“Oh that sounds like soooo much spaghetti” Mario salivated at the thought.

“Don’t entertain that idea!”

Puzzles laughed at the two.

“Alright but still write it down somewhere. I don’t want to use you too much”

Luigi nodded.

They got home. Luigi went to unload all the groceries while Puzzles got dragged to Mario’s room by Mario himself. He seemed to be going toddler tantrum mode by how tired the day had gotten him or maybe he was just upset he wouldn’t get a yacht’s worth of spaghetti. Even then, his grip on Puzzles was stronger than what should have been possible. 

Mario laid Puzzles down with ease and laid beside him with not much afterthought. He fell asleep fast and even then clung onto Puzzles pretty strongly. He could not escape. 

He couldn’t help it, he let his mind race. He didn’t know how he exactly felt about Mario but he really might make him act up at this rate and he wasn’t kidding. He was being so cute through all of this and at the swimwear shop what kind of sounded like flirting. It definitely wasn’t though! He doubted that Mario would pull out actual flirting just like that. Nobody ever made him feel this way and it was super infuriating for him.

He kind of ended up riling himself up as he angrily stared at Mario. That anger slowly slipped away. He couldn’t stay mad at him. He hadn’t known him for that long anyways, he could always just be feeling this way because experiences in general felt new to him. He just- won’t fully entertain this crazy shit right now but try his best to give himself space to process his feelings. Even if it might throw off the people around him. Even if it could cause him to be a  burden… He stopped at that. He also didn’t want to feel like dead weight around the crew. Especially as he imagined how god awfully awkward he’ll feel around everyone when they go on that vacation. This was gonna be really hard on him, even if he realised he needed space for his big feelings. He yawned. He felt tired too. He pulled the blanket off of the bed and tried his best to cover himself and Mario as well. Kind of weird, but they managed to fall asleep on the floor together. 

The 2 slept soundly together, as they tangled up more while sleeping. Considering how neither was a light sleeper, Luigi had an interesting sight to greet him when he went to Mario to tell him that breakfast was ready.

He giggled at the sight and even took a picture. That’ll be something he can tease Mario about later. He left the room quietly with an evil grin plastered on his face.

It took a while until Mario stirred. Even he was surprised that he was held so closely by Puzzles. And just how warm he was. And wasn’t nearly as hard as he thought he would be, considering his body was made of wires and cables. He actually felt really comfortable. Maybe a bit too comfortable. He still couldn’t quite understand what was going on in his brain. He just let the thoughts run across him as if his mind was a waterfall and these thoughts were feeble, unfit fish that are defenseless against the power of a waterfall. Just like how his thoughts were defenseless at Mario’s mind becoming so empty they become nothing as well. Though that just left him confused. He didn’t know if this was okay but hey! It was probably nothing. It’ll just solve itself in some roundabout way like how things usually just go off in a chain reaction around him. He was sort of used to things happening to him and around him. Just like when his Mighty Italian suffered at the merciless door’s slammige. Although he was panicked, things happening around him kind of solved it. Just like how a good but silly plot demands it. This time should be no different. Since there was a good and engaging start to this and it had slowly been ramping up, it should reach a satisfying conclusion. It was only fair, to make a story that could leave a mark on people… What… What were these thoughts? Even Mario himself was stumped at his thoughts. Maybe it was because he just woke up but he wasn’t exactly the type to have discussions like this inside his head for fun. He preferred his mind to have as much of a reverb as St. Stephen’s Basilica no less and with the most disgustingly awful sound system set up, so bad any words spoken are drenched in noise, losing clarity. Honestly, maybe even more. Make his mind as echoey as a hollow Earth would be and record it with an xbox type headset.

He looked up to Puzzles, discarding his thoughts as he observed Puzzles’s softly humming screen engulfed in static. It was rather mesmerising. He squirmed until he freed his hands and reached up to feel his screen. Even his screen was sort of warm, although harder than his body, there was still something startlingly alive about it. He became a little obsessed with it. And it seemed Puzzles chose the worst possible time to wake up.

Mario hesitantly pulled away his hands from Puzzles’s screen. 

“Hmmm?” Puzzles didn’t speak yet, just humming softly as he woke up.

“Good morning, TV man” Mario defaulted to being sort of polite. It seemed he couldn’t fully discard those thoughts now! Unfortunate. Suffer my gay wrath, Mario.

“Morning, Mario…” he yawned “How’d you sleep”

“Pretty good… you’re comfy” he giggled as he cuddled closer to Puzzles. To his dismay. Puzzles sat up. He whined. Puzzles pulled Mario off of him. 

“Physical affection time is over now” Puzzles said, rather dryly. 

Mario looked at him, with waves of sadness, waves that washed away in his blue eyes that got so big, pleading, looking at Puzzles just to give him one more second of physical closeness. Puzzles strongly averted his gaze. Although now he won’t be able to get those puppy eyes out of his mind. 

He stood up, this time more careful to not hit his head in the ceiling. 

Mario decided to brush it off. Though, once again, he couldn’t quite discard it all until he thought about breakfast.

“Oh, Mario’s gonna have breakfast” and there he went.

Puzzles sighed. Even yesterday, Mario got to him quite a lot but he didn’t have the heart to push him away. Especially not after what he ended up thinking about after Mario fell asleep. Although, based on how it all went down, it might not be the last time that Mario would fall asleep latched onto him. And he was a bit worried about the fact that it didn’t bother him. Though maybe it was better for him to get used to it. He knew he had to make some odd sacrifices to make his life work again. Or more like start working for the first time ever. 

He left to see Mario destroying breakfast. It was as if they made mukbang but violent. He already saw what Luigi meant by Mario being something to deal with. Luigi looked at him, they shared a look. He sat down with the brothers to eat with them. Although he didn’t need a lot to sustain himself, he still needed a bit. And as he did, the 2 brothers looked at him. Puzzles felt embarrassed.

“What?” he already tried to defend himself “can’t a man have his breakfast?”

“TV eats…. pretty cool” Mario was maybe a bit too joyful about Puzzles being able to eat.

“I just didn’t think about it before but it makes sense! Sorry if we caused you to feel bad”

Puzzles sighed.

“Thank you, apology accepted… I just don’t want to be seen as a freak is all…”

“Of course, it’s understandable”

“Mario will fight the haters for you” and he sounded serious about it too.

Puzzles was clearly flattered, maybe a bit flustered. Luigi looked between the 2. Puzzles looked at him. Luigi gave him a look that could only be described as having the vibe of ‘Idk what’s going on with you 2 but I’m not gonna get tangled in your problem’. Puzzles felt defeated.

“Say… When exactly is the vacation?” Puzzles changed the subject.

“This weekend”

“Oh huh! 2 more days then… At least I have time to attend to… actually getting a job”

“TV already getting a new job?”

“Yes, Mario” he said “Actually you interrupted me in the middle of it when I was asked to join my ex rival’s studio. Which is why I would’ve needed the- Wait we actually really did forget about getting me a phone” Puzzles stared off “How will I call them now?”

“You can use our land line!” 

“Oh, thank you! Maybe next time we go we can actually get me one”

“Sure thing, Puzzles! Let's hope we don’t forget next time”

“Yeah”

He got up and left, forcing the conversation to end. Mario watched him closely then stared at where he saw Puzzles leave.

Luigi took his phone out with the picture he took of the 2.

Mario noticed the motion under his face, looking down. He took a bit as he realised what he was looking at. He slowly flushed red. Luigi grinned at the reaction.

“I see you slept well” he teased Mario.

Mario couldn’t react as he turned away from Luigi, trying to hide his face. His ears being so red were giving away his thoughts though.

“Oh, dear god, you’re THAT smitten” Luigi laughed, now feeling a bit bad. Mario would usually try to throw hands at this point.

He looked back at him with the most genuine shock in his eyes.

“Smitten??!” he said with so much disbelief, he genuinely didn’t think about it that way.

Luigi stared at him.

“You didn’t think about that at all?”

“No!!! Mario is too stupid for stuff like that!” he seemed rather panicked now.

“Oh, bro” Luigi now just fully felt bad, as he wrapped an arm around his brother, trying to comfort him “I get that it can be hard to deal with these feelings-”

“Mario thought he could only love spaghetti” he started sobbing. Luigi looked unamused.

“...Just know I’m here to listen if you wanna talk about it, okay?” 

Mario nodded then hugged him. Good grief, he didn’t think he would need this so suddenly, just like this. He didn’t even know he could develop feelings in such an embarrassing way. He wasn’t the cool and easygoing Mario anymore, he was stupid and scared now. Sure, he could be scared but it wasn't exactly usual for him to feel this anxious. Not even Peach could make him feel that way while she was around and he still sort of liked her. He never felt like he’s fumbling a bad bitch or something, especially because that fumbling was part of their relationship in a way. However here he felt so much more, being scared he couldn’t be enough for the man he happened to fall for a little bit. Maybe it’ll just pass! That was an on and off thing with a certain someone who wasn’t Peach. And he even grew pretty casual about it too! But this… Mario was fucked. As in utterly, deeply and strongly fucked.

He sighed which drew attention from his brother.

“Mario thinks it’ll pass. Just very intense right now. Way too intense” by the end it sounded like he was whining. 

Luigi chuckled and patted his back.

“If that makes it easier to sleep at night”

Puzzles took a while, it felt like time stopped. But he came back afterall. Why did Mario feel he was gone forever? He wouldn’t leave… would he? When… When he is able to make good money he probably will.

Mario stayed oddly quiet while Luigi and Puzzles were discussing something entirely unimportant to him. It was all just noise. His head never felt so full, it felt suffocating. Uncomfortably so. So many things he had been through yet this broke him in a way he didn’t know could happen to him. He quietly got up and got himself more spaghetti to occupy himself with something. Luigi didn’t say a thing, just glanced at him. Puzzles was none the wiser about the fact that Mario wasn’t just having seconds, he was actively coping with eating. 

The day passed by. Puzzles had the job now, he would start as soon as he got back from the vacation they so suddenly invited him to. More like Mario invited him. From what little he could guess from what he saw and heard, SMG4 really didn’t like him. Not that he had a problem with that, he had every right to. He just knew it could easily make things awkward. Especially because he didn’t know what to expect. Hell, what if he ruins the whole outing? Just making it awful for everyone around…. It truly scared him. In these times, he was weirdly glad he had Mario sometimes latching onto him in his koala kind of manner. Though he did draw the line at his screen being used to watch stuff. Sure, he had so much love for television himself and all- but that was his face! And his face is there to be a face, not to just be your usual household equipment. Mario did try every so often though until he seemed to reach a breaking point with it. He was REALLY bored but he also didn’t want to bother Puzzles into… maybe even hating him. The thought sent a chill down his spine.

Mario was struggling, oscillating between being beside Puzzles or not. He finally put his foot down, abruptly leaving. Puzzles was sure puzzled by this. Staring a hole into the door, as if the door did something to him. He realised what he was doing was dumb as hell as he pushed himself up from the floor and left the room. No one was inside so he left the house to look around. He found Luigi tending to their garden in the back. It was small but really pristine and well-kept. He did know it was a passion of his so it didn’t surprise him but he thought it would be bigger.

“Anything wrong?” he must have stared because this was a question he got from Luigi.

“Oh no, not really! I was just- looking around is all. And it felt a little lonely inside.” 

Luigi hummed.

“If you want to know, Mario left to SMG4”

“Ah! I see! Not… Not that I asked it but thank you”

“Sure” Luigi said with sarcasm which Puzzles did not pick up on at all.

For a while he didn’t do much until he had quite the grand idea. He looked around the house on his own, searching for stuff to aid his idea. On his quest for a pen or pencil and paper, he found personal stuff which he didn’t mean to. Like pictures and notes about adventures they both had. He sighed, happy that they both had such an eventful life, but also feeling jealous for the very same reason. He wished that were him. He shook his head, though he couldn’t help but wonder about all those adventures as they slowly seeped into his idea, tainting it so so sweetly. And it showed. His idea wasn’t only his anymore. But he did like it. 

He started to sketch out concept shots for it as well, full of drama and plans for all sorts of lighting, camera angles, scenery, the practical effects, even ending up pondering about the sound effects, the kind of music he’d use. It’s almost like his love for filmmaking never left him.

By the time Mario got back from an adventure with SMG4 which he induced by causing problems, as he tends to from time to time, he found his room covered in a lot of doodles, with Puzzles being in the middle of it. He looked like he was consumed by it but didn’t seem bothered by it. Grinning happily and without care in his metaphorical black hole of passion. Mario found the smile rather contagious. He couldn’t help but stare at everything, taking in so much detail. Usually his head would explode over such actions, especially because there were words he had to read, or refuse to take in information but today seemed different. He took it with open arms, just like the man in the middle of this beautiful mess.

Their eyes met, shared a few moments of eye contact. The realness of it all, it was sickening and weird. Mario wished some really bad things while being so deeply enamored. Made him wish he never existed. 

Puzzles on the other hand was more confused although flustered. He didn’t think about it too much before but Mario’s opinion on him might have mattered more to him than he let on.

The stare off ended as Puzzles awkwardly spoke up.

“Uhh- hey, Mario! Are you interested in my work?”

Mario took a bit.

“Mario doesn’t know what you’re making but it looks cool”

“Oh they are just plans for scenes I was thinking about! You see, my plans are always all over the place but they always come together in the end!”

“Hmmmmmm….” Mario thought strongly “Like a puzzle”

Puzzles got flustered at the comment as it hit him. He felt stupid for not realising it sooner. He didn’t even choose it because of that, even though this was right there to justify it.

“Oh, dear, aren’t you so smart!” he laughed, slowly letting the awkwardness pass him by. 

Mario shook his head.

“Barely if ever”

“Exceptions exist just for that you know”

“Uh- Guess so? Wouldn’t know”

“Say… would you like to listen to me talk about all this?” he gestured at all his notes and sketches.

Mario thought for a bit then answered rather unusually. 

“Sure, yeah” he sat down beside Puzzles as he started going over the intricacies of building up his perfect scenes. Even having them connect so well, although a full script or story was currently not finished, they were genuinely falling into place. Such an impossible feat, working like that. No wonder he was considered a catch if he can do things like that. And Mario ate it all up. Nodding along to his words whenever he looked for validation to continue, without even thinking much about it. It just all came so unsettlingly natural. 

It felt like so much time had passed when Luigi knocked on their door and opened it, seeing Mario leaning on Puzzles while Puzzles was full of excitement talking.

Luigi giggled at the sight which alerted the 2. Although both were flustered Mario was the one who had it worse. 

“Just wanted ask you 2 if you want dinner” Luigi said as he put a hand on his hip, teasing them.

“Oh hmm dinner haha!!” Mario spoke nervously as he got up fast and ran for the kitchen. Puzzles rolled his eyes, looking a little disappointed.

“I see you’ve been working on stuff” Luigi said, pointing at all the stuff scattered on the floor.

“I’ll clean up!”

“Of course!” Luigi giggled “That’s not why I mentioned it”

“Then…?”

“It’s just great to see you have fun! Now come and eat, you probably didn’t eat all day and that’s not good”

Puzzles got up with a smile on his face. He really was having fun. Especially… when Mario joined. Although that thought was quite complex for him and one that made his head hurt, he still couldn’t wipe off the grin he got going on. He felt almost controlled by it. Not in a bad way, just in the way that he couldn’t hide his happiness at all.

They all sat down. Mario devoured food like a bottomless pit while the other 2 ate a normal amount. Mario eating was a bit too loud this time to make casual talk. The way he sounded, he might as well be choking on pasta at the rate he was taking it in his mouth, making sure he had a good mouthful. And this made him messy as all hell as well, if the absolutely disgusting noises he made weren’t enough. Luigi sometimes glanced at his brother, concerned. He did that enough for Puzzles to notice as well. 

As soon as they finished, Luigi grabbed Mario without a word, dragging him to shower. Mario was screaming about not wanting to shower. Puzzles just watched, awkwardly waving him goodbye, as if out of solidarity. And it was but Puzzles was scared if it looked like he was mocking Mario for getting forced to shower. 

He sat there awkwardly for a bit before he decided to go back to Mario’s room. He tidied up his notes and put them neatly together in a way he knew he could use it again. Order was important to him, sometimes the only thing soothing his anxieties.

He sat down on the floor, then slowly flopped over. His ever so crazy creativity going so fast before drowned out his sleepiness but now it came out full force. He thought over the day as he closed his eyes, noting his thoughts one by one. Being invited to hang out with people who he hurt before. He was scared of how that could go. He would understand if they threw him out immediately after seeing him. Hell, maybe it would be a mistake to take him at all! Even when not possessed, he was still a nuisance, not ready for the world at all. And he felt like the world wasn’t ready for him either. Maybe he’ll just choose to stay away from the others and not talk to anyone! Maybe they would even be glad. Yes. Of course. What else would be a better choice than shutting the hell up as soon as he is around people who could easily make him feel awful even just with a slightly negative glance. He would crumble if he even uttered a word. 

The door to the room opened momentarily shaking Puzzles out of his thoughts. Then fully as he saw that Mario was wearing pink pajamas with a mushroom pattern. The mushrooms had faces and looked like they were ripped from some kind of obscure children’s show. Both the top and bottom had mushrooms. What made it actually kind of funny was the miserable face Mario held. Puzzles chuckled at the sight, he found it way too silly like this.

“You like Mario’s drip?”

“Sure do” Puzzles chuckled again “It fits you well”

Mario rolled his eyes.

“What do you know, Puzzles!” He was clearly playing it up dramatically, and he was failing at even acting like it. He was grinning so much. 

Puzzles yawned.

“Well, I know the day had been long”

Mario stepped rather close to Puzzles, clearly expecting something.

Puzzles looked at him, knowing exactly what he wanted. They hadn’t spent too much time together yet but reading Mario was quickly becoming easy for him. He sighed as he got up.

“Okay, but I’m gonna shower first”

Mario sat down, looking up at him with big puppy eyes.

Puzzles groaned at the sight, was it convincing? Absolutely. Was he gonna practice self control for the sake of not only himself but his hygiene? Also yes.

“After I shower I’m yours all night just stop making that face”

Mario nodded. Puzzles left.

Mario was left to his now mildly filled head. It was bouncing thoughts so awfully. He wished he could think about pasta forever but sadly that wasn’t possible for him. Even before, but now even less. It felt like his head from comfortable silence went to experience white noise. Ever so constant, out of nowhere too. He couldn’t say he fully hated it though. Every once in a while, he just wanted to embrace it so strongly, with his whole body, just the amount of passion he felt even just the thought of expressing it shook him sober. Sober on the idea that he genuinely gained feelings for someone like Puzzles. He didn’t like feeling this aware.

Puzzles came back, Mario’s cloud of soberness immediately dissipated into a different world as he latched onto Puzzles. Puzzles felt a little hot over it. At least he could blame it on the hot shower he took.

“Not wasting a single moment, huh?” he teased Mario, kind of half intentionally. Lot of mixed feelings about it but he didn’t want it to end. It was actually kind of nice.And being sleepy did make him clingier as well.

“Nuh-uh”

Puzzles chuckled as he held Mario in his arms while he laid down.

“Say…” Mario started, looking up at Puzzles.

“Hm?”

“Would you like to come over tomorrow to SMG4’s as well?”

“I- I’m not sure he would like that”

“C’mon! I’ll convince him”

“I- I don’t even know what I would say when I’m there. Doesn't everyone else in your friend group hate me? I did bad things so it would be only fair”

“Times are changing, TV man!” Mario playfully booped Puzzles.

“Are you sure?”

“It would also be good to test the grounds before the vacation”

“Test the grounds, huh? I’ll say… I like the way you think”

Mario seemed to freeze. 

“You good, Mario?”

“You got Mario confused… what thinking did he do?”

Puzzles was looking at him, kind of confused but more disappointed.

“C’mon, Mario, I know those braincells of yours can work out some beautiful things. I’ve seen it”

Mario blushed at the compliment but played it off.

“But Mario got no braincells, only himself! That was all Mario original”

Puzzles couldn’t help it, he laughed at the silly joke.

“You know what, just for that, I’ll go with you tomorrow, just make sure you help out if things get bad”

“Yay! Mario will be your cool white knight”

Puzzles couldn’t help the smile that was growing on his screen just thinking about that.

“Alright. Now sleep”

They slowly fell asleep, in such a sure place. Sure as in right. Might be just the weird feelings in them but it felt like their bond strengthened. Maybe they could even take over the world with what they got. God damn it, good for them! Good for them.

The next morning rose, along with Puzzles first this time. He wanted to get Mario off of himself so he could dress up, considering he was in his pajamas. He actually didn’t like loose fitting clothing like this too much on himself. Sure, they were more comfortable to sleep in but that didn’t mean he would like them.

But by GOD, he didn’t have the heart to wake Mario like this. He could imagine the expression he would pull on him if he tried. And that expression is deeply dangerous!

So all he could do was lie there, taking it as if it was a punishment. He wasn’t necessarily that miserable though.

After a while of lying there, he made up his mind. He REALLY wanted to get dressed. And of course, he was right. He got the most sad puppy look of Mario.

“Please just let me dress up”

Mario whined but let go of Puzzles, letting him grab his stuff and then leave to dress in the bathroom.

Mario was looking at the door until Puzzles appeared again. Lucky for himself, he was too sleepy yet to have further thought. All he knew was that he was already missing the warmth. As soon as he was back, Puzzles opened his arms for Mario to come back to.

It wasn’t exactly the same but it still satiated him.

“You know, I never would’ve guessed you would be clingy” Puzzles noted casually while getting his notes out of where he put them to make sure they still made sense. 

“Oh, Mario’s been this way… he would often sleep at SMG4’s for this reason”

“You… would cuddle SMG4?”

“Yes. Anything wrong with it?”

“No, I was just cur-”

“Maybe jealous?”

Puzzles lit red at the accusation.

“I’m not jealous! Don’t be ridiculous!” 

Mario laughed. 

“Mario believes you”

“Thank you”

Puzzles went back to sorting his notes again, although still a bit bothered.  The more he thought about it, he DID feel a bit jealous. And he felt so stupid for it. He shouldn’t even have the audacity to feel that way. 

Mario clinging onto him did sooth the silly thoughts he didn’t want to have. 

Mario let his grip loosen as he turned to the notes. He was looking at them pretty intently.

Puzzles noticed as well.

“Anything wrong, Mario?”

“Just…. this” he pointed at one of the notes which was detailing a character of the movie Puzzles was working on. It was the protagonist.

“Yes?”

“You were saying this character doesn’t have a motive to do things he does yet”

“Yeah?” Puzzles was puzzled by the verbose thoughts from Mario but listened nonetheless.

“A great motivation would be love. For this character” he pointed at another character, it was actually the secondary protagonist “You said you want this character to be more goofy but I think it would make it interesting if these 2 had something more going on. Especially because you could also show a motive for the murder in act 3. Maybe just make that character a little worse and there!”

Puzzles was staring at Mario. Oh, his mind was full of so many thoughts. And he looked so…. Uhuh, Puzzles, what were you thinking there? 

“That… Actually works pretty well. Hell, it could even work as a twist at the end! So unexpected that the comedic character could end up as the motivator. That they were… always meant to be lovers”

“Even better” Mario laughed “Better write it down”

Puzzles hummed.

“Now Mario’s gonna get breakfast”

“Have a great feast” Puzzles teased Mario.

“Mmmmm feast” Mario walked out with a silly smile on his face, thinking about how big a feast can get. Since this was about Mario, probably very big.

Puzzles looked over his notes and corrected over with the new detail where he saw fit. With a few corrections, the story really felt more whole now. Something about the fact that Mario helped him with it also made him love it more. He wondered if he was supposed to feel bad about that. He and Mario didn’t know each other for too long yet so… would it be… would it be bad to say…

Puzzles shook his head as he clumsily reassembled his notes and hastily put them away as he went outside. Why was this so hard to think about?

He left the room to see Mario indeed finished his feast at this point. He was actually lying down on the floor at this point.

Puzzles looked down at Mario confused.

“Mario’s coping” he said weakly.

Puzzles chuckled, smiling down at him.

“Understandable”

They gazed into each other’s eyes until Luigi disturbed them. 

“Puzzles, I have a lot of work around here, can you help? I’d ask Mario but I don’t know-”

“Mario was planning to go to SMG4! WITH Mr Puzzles too!”

Luigi sighed.

“Can you help me with this at least?” Luigi almost pleaded to Puzzles.

“But of course”

“Hmph” Mario stumped off, making sure he’s very far from housework.

“He can be quite a handful sometimes” Luigi sighed again.

“But of course” Puzzles said, chuckling.

Luigi watched him catiously, while still cleaning another dirty plate left by Mario’s Mario-sized feast.

“You like him a lot, huh?”

Puzzles seemed to go into deep thought as he thought over that. 

“I guess so… in some ways”

“Some ways?” Luigi seemed puzzled by the Puzzle himself.

“I… do like spending time with him. He can be nice… my opinion can always change though! I could always… end up hating him”

“Hey I get that. Having any kind of relation with Mario isn’t exactly the easiest thing. He IS hard to handle and can be awful to handle- he can do awful things, sometimes even just to spite you. But when he doesn’t do that I do think he’s worth it. I wouldn’t have anyone else as my brother”

“That’s sweet, Luigi… I just don’t know if I’ll last beside him…”

“Oh?”

“It’s just- maybe I… I don’t know…” Puzzles got rather quiet by the end.

“If you’re scared Mario doesn’t like you, I can assure you he does. He doesn’t exactly latch onto people just like that”

Puzzles felt his screen heat up over the mention of the clinginess Mario could prosper in.

“Okay…”

“Is that all?”

“No… It’s very hard to get back to- everything. And I- never had a real friend before. Even before the- possession, I didn’t focus on it as much as I should have”

“Well… then you just have to be patient. I think you know things will be hard and that shouldn’t stop you”

“Right…. thanks, Luigi”

“Anytime”

“I’m also uh…. I also wanna ask for advice. Because I was convinced to tag along with Mario to SMG4’s and I…”

“You’re scared the crew is gonna hate you?”

“Yeah…”

“I get that, I’d be scared if I were you too. Some of them can be hard headed. But they can be really kind too. If you just act like yourself I think you should be fine”

“Really?”

“Yeah. They might make fun of you but they do that to each other all the time. You should’ve seen how SMG3 and SMG4 were before- But they still all love each other, so who's to say they couldn’t love you too?”

“Mhmm… Yea, you’re making a lot of sense”

“I know. I’m sure you’ll do fine. With Mario as well”

“Thank you, Luigi. Now I’ll feel forever indebted to you”

“Oh you” 

After they finished with the dishes, Puzzles went to get Mario so they could go to SMG4’s. 

He wasn’t in his room.

“Mario?” he called out for him “There aren’t more dishes left, we can go”

No answer.

Panic set.

It’ll be okay! It’ll be so. Fine.

“Mario, please?”

He waited in the room.

“This isn’t the time for games, please”

He paced in the room before leaving the room. He went to Luigi.

“I can’t find him”

“Mario? Hmm” 

Luigi went to the front door. He opened it. He took a big breath in. Puzzles watched in anticipation. 

“MAAARIIIOOOOOOOOOO” he shouted, he sounded amplified,, Puzzles swore he could feel the vibrations of his voice. It must carry far if it was this loud for him. How the hell did he do that? Some kind of Mario brothers gimmick or something? He wasn’t sure.

A worried Mario showed up, seemingly coming from the road he’d take to SMG4’s. Even though he was nervous, Puzzles’s heart sank. Did he not want to bring him along? Maybe he really was a burden.

“Mario! You left Puzzles here!”

Mario froze.

“Oh-” 

Puzzles didn’t say a word.

Mario collected his thoughts.

“Sorry- You still want to come?”

“Sure” Puzzles said, sounding rather defeated.

The 2 set off, Luigi could finally relax while 2 were to fight off tension.

They were silent for a while then, Puzzles not even looking Mario’s way.

“Hey… I’m sorry if I upset you. I… didn’t mean to just- ran after my empty head-”

“I thought you didn’t wanna bring me”

“What?? Why else would Mario ask you??”

“I… I don’t know, to take pity on me?”

“Mario doesn’t take pity”

“But.. you took me in as well-”

“Because Mario finds you cool!”

Puzzles felt himself getting hotter over the compliment.

“You think so?”

“Of course!”

“Well, I… I think you’re cool too” Puzzles chuckled with a lovestruck expression. 

Mario never felt so in love. Damn it.

He jumped up and hugged Puzzles, which halted him as he didn’t want to fall over. He stood for a bit before Mario spoke up, looking up at Puzzles with big puppy eyes.

“Can Mario stay here?”

Puzzles chuckled, trying to stifle his embarrassment with little success.

“Sure, but we’ll keep going”

“Good with Mario”

Puzzles went on, with Mario wrapped on him. He held him with one arm while letting the other relax by his side, following the rhythm of his stride as he followed the path to SMG4’s.

By the time they got there, both got rather used to the contact. It was hard to deny it was rather comfortable.

He saw some of the crew outside, seemingly discussing something. It was Meggy, SMG3 and SMG4, with Eggdog and Beeg there. They noticed the 2. 4 immediately went back to the discussion while the other 2 waved at them. He waved back awkwardly.

“We’re here?” Mario asked.

“We sure are… Do you want to get off?”

“Well, if Mario needs to…” Mario reluctantly loosened his grip on Puzzles, landing on his feet without trouble.

 Mario walked ahead and Puzzles followed behind, still an air of awkwardness with him. The glance 4 took at him alone brought back all the anxiety he was feeling before. 

“Hey you 2!” Meggy greeted the 2. 

“Didn’t know Puzzles was coming today as well, good to see you though” 3 said, while carefully looking to 4 too. He knew something was going on with him. Puzzles understood what he was getting.

“Hi” 4 said as he turned around, only one glance at Puzzles then looking at Mario. Even that single glance burned him.

“Mario, remember when we were talking about an event idea for 3’s café?”

They started talking about something Puzzles couldn’t contribute to. So he just stood there awkwardly. Not wanting to go anywhere because he didn’t want to leave Mario’s side but also wanted to leave so badly because he was feeling so awkward. And it definitely didn’t help that he was also really tall compared to the others. Really made him feel like he was never meant to fit in. He wished he could sink into the floor until he felt someone poke him on his forearm. He turned around to see Tari.

“Hi” she said, with a look of understanding. 

“Hey?” he wasn’t sure how to respond.

“You weren’t here before so I was wondering how good you are at games!” she said, already dragging him along. 

“Oh! Sure!” 

Mario looked at him.

“Okay! Happy gaming for you!”

Tari brought Puzzles inside, letting him take a seat on the couch in the gaming room.

“Okay… Puzzles” she looked at him with certain firmness, a sort of care “You looked like a shaking leaf. Sorry if I- appeared suddenly, I just wanted to help you out. You don’t need to game if you don’t want to”

“Uh- Thanks, Tari. I want to try at least. Just be gentle heh” he chuckled.

“But only this time”

Tari brought up Smash and showed Puzzles the controls and showed off stuff in game as well. Letting him get used to it, he didn’t play super awful. He didn’t win a single time but he did put up a good fight. 

“Sorry, Puzzles” Tari was feeling bad “It’s really hard to turn my gamer brain off. You could try fighting against a bot?”

“A bot?”

“Yeah. It’s a player controlled by the game”

“Sounds good”

They played for a while until Meggy appeared there too.

“Gaming going well?” she asked as she sat beside Tari.

“Sure is” Puzzles smiled “I didn’t know games could be so much fun”

“And this is only one! We have quite a few more here. I also have other games I sometimes bring over” Tari cheered.

“By the way” Meggy spoke more quietly “Sorry I couldn’t help you out, Puzzles. I wanted to but the talk of the café event was pretty important too.

“No worries. What’s it gonna be?”

“We’re still in the idea phase. Maid event came up but 3 shot it down”

“Maids, huh? I’d prefer butler” Tari said.

“To dress as one or to be served by one?” Meggy asked.

“Both” Tari giggled.

“Well, now I want to be a butler for it. Maybe I’ll mention that to 3.

“Oh, yeah, how did you manage to get away?”

Meggy took a bit to reply.

“Well… 4 wanted to talk to Mario privately”

Both girls hummed while Puzzles froze.

“Oh, I hope it’s nothing bad”

It was something bad, Mario could feel as he followed 4, rather quietly. It felt like if he tried anything he would be killed on sight.

“So” 4 sat down on his bed, patting the spot beside him for Mario to sit down. Mario hesitated but sat down.

“Did Mario do something wrong?”

“I’ll decide that when I know more. You are pretty clingy with him, huh?”

Mario turned red. Not only did this feel like an interrogation, it was also about his maybe-kinda-probably crush.

“Guess so” he looked away.

“Did he do something to you? Hurt you? Manipulate you? Why are you letting him live with you?”

“Mario just… wanted to be kind”

“That can’t be it. You can tell me if he tried to threaten you”

“But he didn’t! He’s actually really nice”

4 didn’t seem satisfied with the answer.

“He must have gotten to you badly”

“Oh, awfully” Mario flushed at the thought. 

4 wasn’t happy.

“You like him or something??” he asked, anger dripping out of his words.

The longer Mario didn’t reply the more sure 4 was.

“I can’t believe you. We don’t even know if we can REALLY trust him!”

“You’re not even giving him a chance!”

“You wouldn’t either if you knew what I went through because of him!”

“You would if you knew what happened in the void!”

“Shut up! He probably manipulated you then as well!”

“Why are you so insistent? Are you jealous or something?!”

“I just want to protect you” 4 sighed, lowering his voice “You’re important to me, Mario. You’re my best friend”

Mario didn’t know how to reply as he left the room, tears falling from his eyes.

“Wait!” 4 ran after him.

The 3 in the gaming room heard Mario leave. Puzzles felt it in his soul. He was terribly sad. And scared. 

“We have to check on him. He’s doing awful” Puzzles said.

The 2 girls followed him. They went to Mario outside but 4 was still trying to catch him.

“It’s gonna be worse if he betrays you when you like him” 4 shouted after Mario. He didn’t realise the other 3 were there.

Meggy ran up beside 4, grabbing him by the shoulder with force.

“You’re just making him more upset! This won’t make anything better!!”

“But what if he tries something?? He can’t-”

“Yeah, what if I try something?” Puzzles spoke up, while looking down. He wasn’t being silly, he felt scared. 

“It’s like he’s confessing to a crime right now!! Can he really be trusted??”

“Is it too far-fetched to say someone could redeem himself? Or did you never actually trust SMG3?” Mario spoke up, rather angry at 4. Throwing words he might not mean later but he was so angry. It engulfed him and Puzzles too. Puzzles could feel it burn, he was so mad. 

“That’s fucking different!” 4 lunged at him after prolonged silence. 

“And how so?? Do you have proof??” 

“Why would you say something like this about someone like him??”

“Because you speak like that about Puzzles”

“Because- UGH” 4 gave up as he walked away, leaving without another word. His aura somehow seemed to remain though as the 4 of them couldn’t say a word for a while now.

Mario was the first one to do anything, he walked up to Puzzles and held one of his hands in his.

“I trust you, don’t worry” he looked up at him, showing a hopeful smile. Puzzles smiled back.

“Thank you. At least someone… believes that”

“Hey, we believe in you too!” Tari said.

“Yeah! We’re here for you, Puzzles. Even if you did bad things in the past”

“I guess… SMG4 just doesn’t forgive. But honestly I get it. I did awful things. Then again I helped him get with SMG3-” he joked lightly. Mario chuckled at it.

“In a weird way, yeah” Meggy and Tari chuckled too.

Puzzles was glad his silly moment was a hit with the crowd. Good grade for socialisation. 

“But back to it. You’re right… it seems he doesn’t forgive easily. I’m sorry if this made things hard for you” Meggy apologised for 4. 

“You don’t need to be sorry!” Puzzles reassured her “I just hope he’ll be able to calm down. I… I don’t hate him”

“Puzzles is right, we can’t apologise for someone else. 4 will have to do that himself” Tari reassured Meggy, who earned a smile in return.

“By the way, we could go back to gaming” Puzzles suggested.

“Let’s go gaming!!” Mario cheered.

The 4 went back inside to keep playing fun games.

4 paced in his room, starting to doubt stuff. He swore he was right, he was so sure he was right. This man, he knew, he had wicked plans. Wicked plans to ruin people. He almost ruined SMG3, his world, he almost ruined his world for good. It made him so angry. The idea that he could lose his best friend that… that monster. It made him so angry. He wanted nothing more than to cut him out of their life. He wished he didn’t exist at all. So nobody would’ve gotten hurt by his schemes, let that be trauma from being killed several times, risk of losing your privacy, losing oneself to perfection, losing oneself to self loathing and the idea that you’re not enough. He had an impressive collection of things he had done and he didn’t understand how anyone could trust him. How Mario seemed to adore him so much…

Did… Did Mario fall in love with Puzzles?

No… No way. He would act differently about that. He was just… Maybe Mario is playing 4D chess with Puzzles. Sure.

Stop lying to yourself, SMG4. You know very well that you are just trying to make yourself feel better because you can’t cope with the things that happened to you. You’re lashing out because you feel alienated. But you don’t know that. You can’t put it into words. All you know is that you hate Puzzles.

You hate him so much.

He paced around a little more. It was so unfair. Why did it only have to be him?

He left the castle, walking. Just walking. Somehow ending up right back in the café.

“Hey, where were you bl- Oh my god” 3 reacted accordingly to how 4 looked. He looked so messed up.

3 dragged him away to fix him up as much as he could.

“You can’t be serious” 3 whined.

“It’s not fair” it was all 4 could say.

“What’s not fair? I’ll listen” 3 said, cupping 4’s face. But instead of saying anything he burst into tears. 

3 hugged 4, not really caring much about someone screaming outside to order.

“There there…I’m guessing this is about Mr Puzzles”

“Yeah…” 4 said, kind of ashamed in a way. It was hard to deal with the fact that no one else seemed to care.

“You know… I don’t like him too much either but… I don’t really want to concentrate on it. I’d rather give him space to improve than to… push him into new villainy.”

“But… He could take Mario from us… What would I…. Would I be a good friend if I lost him just like that, because I let things happen?”

“Blue, you’re making things worse right now… I bet Mario isn’t happy about this either. And he can fend for himself. Don’t take the guardian part of your name this seriously”

“But I… 3…” 4 seemed to press on.

3 hugged him tighter.

“I’m hugging the worry out of you, 4”

4 chuckled.

“You’re being so silly right now”

“And you’re smiling about it. It’s working.”

“You know you could… do something else to get the worry out of me…”

3 was staring at 4. 4 was staring at 3 with an emotion he identified way too quickly.

“Shush… Don’t tempt me right now. After work you can”

“Bummer”

3 gave him a quick peck on the lips.

“Too bad! Now work, slave” he said jokingly as he then left outside to finally take the yelling costumer’s order.

4 sighed, getting himself together. He couldn’t fail 3. He already did bad enough today.

The day went by rather decently. Even if the feelings didn’t leave. They festered in their minds. Almost unkillable. With so much guilt. Rage. Anxiety. Love. So much.

Hard to bear. Too hard.

The night grew closer. Mario excused himself for a walk from gaming. 

It felt like he was in a bubble. The world felt unreal around him. So many things happening. Weighing on him. He didn’t want any of this. He wondered if he deserved it anyways. Pain. Pain. Pain. Love. Pain. Guilt. Pain. Sadness. Love. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.

Guilt.

He ran and ran until he felt his soul reach back to Earth. He looked around, it was dark. Just a dark night. It was comforting. He sat down in the grass looking up at the sky. Being alone was like medicine. Sure, he enjoyed his time playing with his friends as well. Especially with Puzzles. He actually managed to beat Mario in smash because he got distracted with him. He may have a competitive heart but it’s also really stupid. Nevertheless, the grin and cheer of Puzzles made it feel like Mario won instead. Won guilt.

Guilt.

Guilt.

Was it his fault that SMG4 was acting that way? How could he ever make sure this didn’t happen again? He cared so much about him. He wanted to make things better for him so badly. 

Love.

Puzzles. He… 

Guilt.

He couldn’t ever hurt him. Even if he was forced, he’d fail to. 

So there’s only one person he could actually hurt.

He went back inside. The thought not leaving his mind. 

But he pretended. He pretended he was fine. But it was eating him up.

There was only one person he could actually hurt. For the benefit of his best friend.

And nobody noticed a thing. 

He went back home with Puzzles.  Nobody noticed.

He got home and had a shower. And still, nobody noticed. 

He told Puzzles he’d be back after a midnight snack. He still didn’t seem to notice.

Mario left the room. With steps that felt heavy but were lighter than a feather. He didn’t need Luigi to know. He took all sharp utensils out of the drawers. cutting himself in the process. It hurt.

But it didn’t do a thing. It was like the scene changed and his hands weren’t even hurt now. As pristine as ever. he bashed his hands on as many sharp edges as possible. Hoping for something to stick but nothing. It was like the world was against him hurting himself.

He cursed to himself as he tried again and again. While his hands didn’t retain even a sign of hurt, his blood still remained. Odd. He did feel a bit light headed. He tried to stab himself as well, in as many places as he could think of but it all yielded the same result of nothing truly sticking. But that might have been from him concentrating so hard on hurting himself. To get him out of this hell he put himself into. He made a big mistake. If only he waited enough inside that void for the meme guardians to save him. If only he didn’t feel a sort of kinship. If only he didn’t start liking Puzzles. If only it was so easy to cut him out of his life. If it was only so easy to make SMG4 happy. If it was only so easy for Mario to be happy. To not worry. To not feel guilty. To not feel like the cause of everything bad happening.

He felt frustrated, not knowing what he could use.

Puzzles appeared, soft light coming from his room as Puzzles seemed to turn on a smaller one. It gave him a glow. Like a saviour.

“Mario? What are you doing?” Puzzles asked, trying to keep back just how worried he was.

Mario didn’t react.

If only he didn’t take out the piece. If only he didn’t feel bad for it.

The piece…

The piece. 

Mario, without a word, bolted for the door, leaving in record speed. Puzzles went after him.

He ran after him as much as he could. But he couldn’t keep up.

He cried, holding it right at the scar. The ties. It hurt. It hurt from the pain Mario felt.

Puzzles locked eyes with the ground, concentrating. The energy, he felt it connecting the 2 of them. He searched in it. A blinding power. 

And he concentrated on it further. He wanted this to be over so badly it brought physical results.

He stopped Mario in his tracks. With only his mind. He finally managed to catch up and catch Mario in his arms.

Puzzles felt warm and comforting. The light was still strong but slowly dimmed as Puzzles held Mario in his arms.

They didn’t need to speak a word. Mario tightly hugged back, crying into Puzzles’s shoulder. 

They were there for a while. 

Just in each other’s arms, settled in silence. They understood. As much they could.

Mario’s sniffles slowly calmed down. Puzzles got up, with his arms still wrapped around Mario as he began to walk back right to their room.

Even the walk was silent but both sure were thinking. Especially as they passed by the painful red reminder. Puzzles felt like he got there too late. That he should’ve listened to the signs earlier. At least he still caught Mario from doing something bad. 

They got in their room. Puzzles settled down.

“Listen…” Puzzles started carefully “You don’t need to explain yourself if you don’t want to. That’s fine. I know you’re going through a lot I can feel it and I’m sorry… I wish I could help you more. You… helped me and… here I am… making life hell for you…”

Mario grabbed Puzzles’s head. He had a rather firm grip. They were looking at each other.

Puzzles still had that guilty look.

“I’m really sorry, Mario I-”

But before he could say another word, Mario pressed a kiss on Puzzles’s screen, immediately shutting him up. 

“You’re so much, Puzzles”

Puzzles didn’t even know what to say, his screen was just increasingly heating up. In fact he was way too hot. Mario took his hand away from his face as even through his gloves he could feel the heat becoming too hot.

“Ouch, you could fry an egg on your face” Mario tried to joke. 

Puzzles seemed frozen until he slammed Mario down and held him. He held him so hard. Something about that just made him open up more than anything else. He felt like his soul was ripped open and it felt better than anything he ever felt. 

Mario felt a bit helpless under the weight of Puzzles. Not that he minded. It was actually kind of comfortable. 

Mario wondered what SMG4 would think.

And just as that thought crossed his mind, Puzzles rose up, straddling Mario, face to face.

“What are you thinking?” Puzzles asked, a sort of carefulness carrying in his tone. Showing how cautious he was but especially just how much he cared.

Mario felt hot himself, which was obvious as Puzzles screen wasn’t exactly dim enough to hide that.

“I want you”

That stopped both. Now you’ve done it!

The 2 just stared at each other.

“I need you” Puzzles one upped the other, leaning a little closer. 

This felt like a dream.

Mario pulled Puzzles’s head down enough to press another kiss on it. 

How could this feel so natural? Brain in havoc.

As another kiss. Another move. The comfortable pressure. A bite.

A bite?

A bite into the neck. But a gentle one at Puzzles’s neck, which slowly intensified. It was like Mario knew exactly how to get to him. It felt like this could escalate further before Puzzles stopped Mario from another silly little move up his sleeve.

“We should sleep…” he said.

“But…” Mario looked at him with the biggest eyes.

“No buts” he sounded a little cranky.

“I love you”

Oh. Oh alright. That really did it. Well, no stopping now!

They slept in for quite a bit. Sure wonder why.

Luigi decided not to bother them, considering some… things he heard in the night while passing by to go to the bathroom. Better not to bother them.

They took a while to wake up but first Mario did. At least he got time to admire Puzzles in a different way… At least as much as he could from where he was, locked in the hold of him. Honestly, he looked a bit more freaky in the light seeping in but that honestly just made Mario adore him more. With a body that looked so machine yet bore scars that felt like flesh. Maybe part of the reason he didn’t want to show skin. He didn’t know something like that was possible. Adoring Puzzles even more, especially so openly. I mean after what happened… would be a little concerning if he wasn’t… Or at least confusing.

While he could admire Puzzles till the heat death of the universe, Puzzles stirred at some point too.

“Morning, Mar” he said, still kinda sleepy.

“Mar? I like that” 

“Mhmm…” Puzzles cleared his screen a bit, as if to wash the sleepiness away. As he took in his surroundings more, he felt the heat… his fans could barely keep up.

“I-I thought I dreamed that” 

“I’m happy you didn’t”

“Yeah….… me too… sure did feel like a dream too… I… felt like I wasn’t fully… in control? I don’t know”

Mario grinned.

“That’s one way to describe wanting Mario so badly”

Puzzles blushed.

“You’ve no shame!”

Mario laughed at the response.

“You’re not wrong”

Puzzles got up and started dressing up. Mario couldn’t resist looking. Even doing the fuckboy expression, biting his lip.

But when Puzzles looked at him he looked away, as if he was innocent. They continued this until Puzzles looked at Mario rather annoyed and half dressed.

“I know you’re staring at me! You don’t need to”

Mario looked down, a lovestruck grin on his face.

“Mario can’t help it. You’re nice to look at”

“Am… Am I?”

“Yeah” Mario trailed off, slowly caressing Puzzles’s calf that was closer to him

He almost gave in again. 

“No! We have to prepare! We have a whole trip to go on!”

“Buuut Mario loves youuu!!”

“Not gonna work this time. Love you too though”

Puzzles seemed to be able to finally get dressed while Mario was melting on the floor. Melting with love. That’s all that was in his head. Nothing else right now. If only that could last forever.

Mario got up, grabbing stuff to dress up as well.

Puzzles was staring at his back.

“Ayo? And you shame Mario for staring?”

Puzzles brushed it off, reaching to a spot on Mario’s back. It looked burnt but in technicolour. It stung, pain coursing through Mario’s body.

“Does this hurt?”

Mario cried out as he fell over but it was too comical to take it seriously.

“Oh I’m sorry, dear! I didn’t know I ended up hurting you!”

“It’s fine!! Mario’s fine!” he got up “Mario will just..- continue on without a shirt for now”

“Yeah, I’m really sorry though. I didn’t mean to hurt you at all” he cupped Mario’s face in his hands. Mario leaned into it.

“You’re really affectionate with Mario now” he grinned so hard about it, even Puzzles couldn’t interpret this in a negative way. If he did, he’d have to be an idiot for that. And one bigger than Mario at that.

“Is that a problem? I’ll stop” he grinned, teasing Mario as he took his hands back.

Mario huffed in response.

“Mario loves affection… Mario loves you” the shyness compared to his previous behaviour- the difference was staggering! Puzzles found him adorable either way. Oh, wasn’t he such a weird combination of lovestarved and a hopeless romantic for this silly italian? Maybe it’s not exactly like in TV but he would lie if he said he wasn’t happy. He hoped nothing would come between them. He really did hope.

Maybe a tiny bit of worry in the back of his mind. Just the sliver of a chance that something could go terribly wrong. 

“Well, time to pack” Puzzles got up after thinking for a while. Mario looked at him like he was expecting something.

“What?” he asked.

“You forgot to say it back…”

Puzzles sighed and raised Mario up in the air by his armpits.

“I love you too, silly man”

The new name Mario got for himself visibly flustered him. Though that quickly turned into joy.

“Mario IS silly!! The silliest!!”

“And do you know what silliest men do?”

“Love their TV men?”

Puzzles chuckled.

“Maybe. But packing for vacation first and foremost”

Mario sighed.

“Okayy” 

Puzzles put him down.

Puzzles started to pack for himself, taking his sweet time making sure his stuff is as compact and perfectly packed as possible. So good in fact that Tetris players would be jealous of his skills. He laughed at his little joke in his head. He was SO smart. He felt like he was on cloud nine. Maybe what they did yesterday- really eased him up. Which was a good thing. He was kind of happy to have Mario, whatever that meant for the both of them.

As he finished, he noticed Mario struggling with it. He seemed to panic. 

“Dear, are you not good at packing?” Puzzles sat beside him, looking to see he indeed had quite the mess in his suitcase.

“Luigi usually does it for Mario” Mario said, feeling a little ashamed.

“Hey, I’ll help you! I’ve already done mine”

And so Puzzles basically packed for Mario as well. Just as neatly as for himself. Mario watched each hand movement and gesture Puzzles did, like a cat trying to calculate when to pounce.

Mario grew impatient and reached out quickly, grabbing Puzzles’s hand.

Puzzles wasn’t sure how to react for a second. This wasn’t anything strange from Mario to him but he did catch him off guard. 

“Mar, dear… we can hold hands later”

Mario looked at him like a sad wet puppy. Puzzles sighed and grabbed him, placing in his lap. Mario gratefully took it as his rightful place, while Puzzles continued packing with some trouble while trying to inquire what else Mario needed. Who knew a man in his lap could be so distracting. He wasn’t sure if he was fully comfortable but it was also way too nice. He liked the closeness and all. But the weight felt strange and alien to him still. He didn’t know before how he exactly imagined cuddling but the weight was definitely something to him. Just a constant reminder of a presence to him. He was used to feeling lonely. Just because he was brainwashed it didn’t mean he forgot about that. So this presence… In general, as it had been in these past few days, the moment Mario took that piece out of him as well. He swore he felt this all was meant to happen when all that went down. He may have gone a bit crazy but… can you REALLY blame him?

They got done, they went out, seeing Luigi had packed everything else they needed for the somewhat short trip. He stared at the other 2, knowing, especially at Mario, considering he didn’t have a shirt on.

“Mario, do you plan to dress up?”

“Mario’s back really hurts, he can’t” he whined.

“It can’t be that bad- OH MY GOD” Luigi freaked out when he saw it “how did this happen??”

“I… I can’t recall right now…. could’ve been anything” Puzzles said, with little confidence. He didn’t lie but he wasn’t actually trying to be sincere either.

“I’ll see what I can do for your back” Luigi took Mario to the bathroom. Puzzles watched helplessly. He didn’t exactly want to get involved, as much as this was his fault.

He felt bad about it, awful even. He let one person get close to him and it felt like he already ruined it. Maybe now Mario is really only with him out of pity. Who would want to be around someone who hurt them? Especially at such a vulnerable time. He didn’t want the thought to fester. He really didn’t want to. But it did, like a virus, he could feel it in all that was left of his nervous system.

He wondered if he even deserved Mario in the first place. Or if he maybe only brought Mario suffering. And he still felt out of place. How could he fit into a tight knit group of friends anyways? 

And just as he got so deep, the brothers made it back, Mario looking grumpy with a shirt on while Luigi felt a little tired.

“Alright, let’s get going to SMG4’s, we’ll be late at this rate” Luigi said.

Puzzles carried the heaviest suitcases because he was actually the strongest of the 3 but also he just really wanted to occupy himself. And so he was quiet. And he didn’t say a thing about it but Mario noticed. And he didn’t like the silence coming from Puzzles. He wasn’t a therapist or anything but it didn’t exactly feel pleasant or nice. But he brushed it off for now. He just hoped he could make Puzzles feel better in some way or another. Probably in a way that doesn’t end up with him getting more toxic goop on himself that made his skin burn. He didn’t realise it yesterday but Puzzles felt… acidic? Weird stuff.

After a walk that felt longer than it should, they got to the crew. Everyone seemed ready and  were waiting for them. Nobody really felt negative outwardly about this except for 4. Though, he seemed to hold back, with 3 close to him. Puzzles felt this wasn’t going to be the easiest time. 

They got into a bus they rented for this. At least Puzzles was told it was rented but who knows with these guys. Not that he was really that against a bit of crime but he would rather be aware if he was made an accomplice in something like that.

What made him think that was the fact that there was a driver inside but they didn’t look very happy about having to do this. In fact, they looked rather scared. Puzzles decided to push the thought aside as he ascended on the bus the best he could with his tall build.

He sat beside Mario, Luigi went to talk with the others. Puzzles sat by the window. Due to the length of his legs, he actually took up 2 seats and Mario was kind of sitting on his leg. Not that he needed to, there would’ve been space for him elsewhere. But it seemed Mario was visibly very stubborn about sitting with Puzzles. 4 was increasingly bothered by this. 3 grew tired of this at this point, talking with Meggy and Tari instead. 

It was quite the long trip, it was a few hours. It was long with the emotions it had to drag with itself. It felt like it was anchoring time down, intentionally making it harder for time to go on.

But they got there, relatively in good spirit. 4 was really bringing it down. In his obsession to protect Mario he didn’t even notice it was affecting the others as well. In fact, most of the trip, 3 was quietly talking about how annoying he was right now to Meggy and Tari. Listing the ways he had to pander to at least somewhat calm him down which soon stopped working. Though, he tried to be cool about it because he was worried too. He didn’t hate 4 for this, he knew it must be harder for him. But this was beginning to become a lot for him. As much as he loved him, with his whole heart, his mental state kind of reminded him of the perfect incident. It really scared him. Especially because what if something similar happened to him like then. With someone evil enough to take advantage of the situation. And make their life hell.

Regardless, they were there now, packing out to a rather large apartment type of building by the beach. It had enough rooms to house everyone. Luigi kindly asked to be in a different room from Mario and Puzzles, which left the crew questioning for a second. Regardless, he somehow ended up with Saiko and Melony.

They took out the guest bed for him. He put his stuff down neatly.

“So, how come you didn’t want to stay with Mario this time?” Saiko asked, suspicious of this. Melony was sitting on the bed while sorting out her suitcase to take her laptop out she brought for the trip. She was listening though.

“Ah well…” Luigi sighed, a bit annoyed.

“It can’t be that bad” 

“I’m pretty sure they had sex yesterday night”

That shocked both girls, even Melony looked up from the stuff she pulled up to sift through. She recently got into hacktivism to pass the time so it was related to that. Some kind of an article from someone she looked up to.

“Are- Are you sure??”

“Yeah. I kind of- heard them. I OBVIOUSLY didn’t want to” he sighed again. It wasn’t the fact that he found it weird or bad but it was still kind of mind boggling to think about. Especially because just before Mario was crying to him about crushing on Puzzles and now this? Things moved fast with these 2.

“Huh…” Saiko thought for a bit “I see it honestly”

“Mario did have that kind of glow to him” Melony commented which made both look at her weird.

“Nah, he actually burned his back with- whatever comes out of Puzzles’s screen. I don’t know how they did that and why but I don’t need to know”

“BURNED??” both girls yelled in unison. 

“Yeah. I actually had to treat it for him today so he could wear a shirt at least while we get here. It looked pretty rough”

“Mario and the things he gets into I swear” Saiko didn’t know whether to laugh or feel annoyed. Maybe a bit of both if she had to be honest.

“I just hope SMG4 doesn’t freak out too much if hears about this” Luigi thought out loud, concerned. Even scared for his brother.

“Why would he? It’s kind of none of his business” Melony said.

“He really seems to hate Puzzles. I don’t really get it but…”

“I’ve noticed” Saiko was annoyed too “Look, I get it, he was bad but there was a reason for that. Besides, he IS dating SMG3, he’s so unreasonable”

“I have a feeling he just wants to protect Mario but… I’m thinking he might have been doing the opposite…”

The 2 looked at him, at the brink of the worry rising in them. 

“Go on” Saiko said finally.

“I uh… woke up to a pool of blood in the kitchen. I don’t know how it got there… it… could be Mario’s…And there was no sign of struggle. Nothing knocked over or anything, just a single misplaced knife and a pool of blood… it led me to believe that he… he…”

They were looking at him shocked. Luigi finally broke down. The 2 girls scrambled to comfort him, Melony as much as she could with her laptop in her lap. They were just hoping the worst wouldn’t happen. Hopefully.

After a bit of time passed, they heard knocking at their door.

Turns out it was 4, he was gathering everyone to come down. 

The 3 tagged along, following him along with the others.

A big part of the crew was there, with the Mario brothers, the meme guardians, all 4, Melony, Saiko and Puzzles of course. Meggy and Tari decided to stay in their rooms for a bit. The bus driver seemed to vanish for some reason. As they went out they noticed Boopkins was already in there with Bob who had a bright pink donut pattern floaty. He also had those gaudy kind of sunglasses that were gold so it kind of balanced out.

Saiko slowly entered the water, helping Melony out while Mario quickly charged in the water, splashing people on the way. 4 ran after him, yelling about manners. There was something unsettling about his tone of voice but he didn’t say anything wrong. Yet it remained eerie regardless. Puzzles also silently wondered when 4 would mention Mario’s back. He was surprised he didn’t, maybe it was the reason his tone of voice felt so unsettling. Like he was expecting him to lash out again. BUT he knew 4 saw it, he saw that he saw it. And it was terrifying.

1 and 2 set up chairs and parasols so they could enjoy the beach without too much sun. They were also seemingly discussing important meme guardian business as they usually would. 

Puzzles decided to stay back, quietly, sitting just barely in the water. He didn’t want to interfere with 4 and Mario. His reaction to Mario’s back was already scary enough for him. Not even a word, just looking at him so deeply judgmentally. The thoughts reemerged, the idea that he really didn’t deserve any respect. That he deserved a life meant for loneliness and nothing else. Just like how he was before. It would probably be easier. If only Mario let him die instead, he wouldn’t need to be such a black sheep within such great people. He could have moved on from a painful life. He could’ve ended it there. it could’ve been so good.

“Oi, you don’t want to come in deeper?” 3 asked Puzzles, which shook him out of the awful thoughts.

“No… Don’t want to disturb Mar and SMG4 having fun. I think they deserve it”

3 sighed.

“You’re selfless for being lonely for so long. I would be so much more jealous”

“Jealous?”

“You obviously love him, no? I know the signs. Way too well”

Puzzles heated up at how easy he was to read.

“Oh dear… I didn’t know it was that obvious”

“So then? Don’t you just… want him by your side?”

“I… I don’t know if I deserve him” he got rather quiet.

“Blue is a dumbass, don’t let him tear you down”

“But is he really? I.. even hurt Mario”

“Hurt him?”

“Uh… Not important how”

3 stared at Puzzles. Puzzles stared back.

“Oh-.. kay but… really. I don’t get you”

“I made life harder for him. He had… an episode of sorts yesterday. He doesn’t take SMG4’s behavior well and it feels like it’s my fault… I mean if I was just… dead… he wouldn’t”

“Y’know, 4 and I cause each other problems all the time.”

“I think this is different”

“I used to try to terrorise him. We were some… awful people to each other. Worse than what you are for Mario. And we still got here. You know how?”

“No…”

“Love prevails… as much as I hated to admit it before”

“You think so?”

“Definitely. And because of you and that shitty piece of that damned box, I learned it very intimately”

“Sorry about that..”

“Thank you”

“You what now?”

“It might sound messed up but I needed that I think… We both needed it. I never realised before how stubborn 4 was actually about me. I never would’ve figured out if it didn’t get so bad. We might still be here, not dating but still painfully pining if it wasn’t for you”

“I assume you’re joking”

“No. We were a hopeless case” 3 laughed.

Puzzles reacted with chuckling as well.

“Well, I just hope I can somehow… convince 4 that I’m good enough for Mario”

“Way better way to think. I’m going in now, good luck”

3 left in, jumping on 4 and pushing him in the water with a swift and calculated move. Puzzles chuckled at the sight, especially as then they begin to playfully fight. 4 was way less freaky with a smile on his face, having fun. He almost wished that could be a sight that would look at him that way. Just a sliver of acceptance for him. 

He looked up at the sky, thinking stuff through. So many things he wanted to do. And number 1 on his list was to make 4 like him, whatever it would take. He felt like he was trying to achieve the approval of a protective father. While no, it was just his dear’s bestie.

He wondered how he could even do that. It definitely wouldn’t be him trying to show off with his skills. 4 would think he was shallow and maybe even think he was planning something worse secretly. If he poured his heart out, 4 probably wouldn’t listen either. Maybe Mario could put in a good word for him? Or the others, as much as they can. Convincing 4 that he wasn’t evil anymore was way more trouble than what his ideas could change. He sighed.

He suddenly jerked up at the sensation of someone poking his shoulder several times. It was Mario.

“What’s up, Mario?”

“You were sitting here, alone”

“I didn’t want to disturb your time with SMG4”

“Mario has space for everyone”

“SMG4 is questionable in that regard”

Mario could only sigh in response as he leaned onto Puzzles’s shoulder.

They spent time silently, it was maybe a bit too silent for Mario. It looked like he was out of energy.

“Say…” Puzzles started awkwardly after a while.

“Hm?”

“How’s… your back”

“It was totally worth it”

“That’s- That’s NOT what I asked”

“But that’s what Mario cares about”

“YOU… You’re so shameless” Puzzles couldn’t help but smile.

“Maybe. But you love Mario either way”

“I sure do”

They stayed in comfortable silence. 

Meggy and Tari finally arrived as well. Meggy had her hands behind her back, nothing suspicious. The grin on her face was definitely not suspicious as well.

She looked around, looking for the right victim to strike. She spotted the one least suspecting it: Bob, looking half asleep on his silly floaty. She aimed with precision champions would get jealous about. She then shot, water sprung out of her gun, hitting Bob just right, knocking off his glasses.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR??” he shouted, looking around for  the culprit.

Meggy and Tari were loudly laughing about this so it didn’t take a lot  for Bob to see them. 

“What, Bob? can’t handle a bit of water, eh?”

Bob didn’t reply verbally, instead he pulled out his mega deluxe golden water guns that matched his sunglasses he was so painfully separated from.

And from here, a war began as others brought out their guns too.

Puzzles panicked as he quickly got up and ran away, while Mario sadly got caught in the fight, he had no choice but to join in.

He found a place to hide, he was out of view by this large rock.

He sat down and tried his best to calm down. His circuits could’ve gotten damaged there badly. He didn’t want to think of the nightmare that would be fixing that kind of damage. He had to once and he still wasn’t sure if he fully recovered from it.

He just sat there, in the sand, still feeling the water dripping down on his lower limbs. The sand sticking to him felt uncomfortable but he could manage. 

He sighed, laying against the rock. His mind felt a little empty. He didn’t exactly expect to be left alone like this. Maybe it was just his brain playing tricks on him but he felt uneasy for some reason.

That reason turned out to come realy quick by. SMG4. Just the 2 of them. 

“AH!!” Puzzles got surprised by 4’s presence as he stared him down as he was good for nothing.

“I’ve got a few words for you” he said, it seemed he wouldn’t waste his time with useless small talk.

“Yeah?” Puzzles was scared.

“The bruise on his back was you, wasn’t it? What did you do to him?”

“I uh…” Puzzles got quickly nervous “You don’t need to know that”

One of 4’s eyes twitched. He was NOT happy.

“If I find out you’re controlling him this way, you’re dead”

“I’m not! I promise. I care about him too, okay? He hadn’t been doing well”

“Like I’d believe you. If you really aren’t controlling him you would tell how he got the bruise”

“I said you don’t want to know”

“It was clearly you”

“Yeah, but you don’t need to know how”

“What could be worse than fucking mind control goop??”

“...Acidic…” Puzzles turned away, honestly thinking about it just made him heat up all over again.

“Acidic??” 4 was unsure what to think. He was trying to be mad but he was more lost on where this was going.

“And it… got on his back on accident… I didn’t mean to, we… got carried away” Puzzles tried to leave out the most important part.

“C…Carried away? With… WIth what?” 4 was left confused as he was trying to figure it out. But Puzzles wasn’t replying anymore, instead strongly trying to avoid eye contact with 4.

“Did…” it clicked for him “Holy fuck, Mr Puzzles, did you fuck my best friend??”

Puzzles grew visibly more nervous.

4 was left more confused if anything.

“I-  I don’t know what you’re planning with… all this you’re doing but you’ll NEVER convince me”

“I get that…”

“Blah blah I can’t hear your pitiful acting” 4 left, not listening to Puzzles’s words which actually were as sincere as they get.

“It’s okay…” Puzzles got up “I just wish you didn’t ruin stuff this way for other people” he said that last part under his breath, which 4 luckily didn’t end up hearing.

“You know, I really don’t get your deal” 4 said.

“I have no deal. I just wanna live again”

“That’s what they all say”

“Didn’t SMG3 have a similar thing”

“Unlike you, he wasn’t a parasite on other people”

“I… was invited”

“Maybe if you had a spine you would have declined”

Ouch.

“Maybe… It would be easier for you, would’t it? For the both of you. If I were just… out of the picture”

4 didn’t say anything. When it was said outloud like this it felt… different.

Puzzles continued.

“I want you to get one single thing through your head if it won’t be anything else” Puzzles said, glaring at 4 “You can believe I’m still a villain all you want, you can believe I want to hurt people all you want. But if you do this to the detriment of Mario’s mental health and constantly try to infantilize him with trying to ‘’’’’’’care’’’’’’’’’’’ for him, thinking you know so much better than everyone else, just know you’re annoying everyone else in the process. And hurting Mario more than you’ll ever realise.”

And with that, he left 4 dumbfounded. He wasn’t even sure how to react. This GUY trying to lecture him?? What the fuck did he know about life anyways??

He stomped off, far away from everyone as he went back inside. He didn’t want to see anyone then. He needed to see some funny memes. If they could even help him at this point.

Mario noticed this. He felt awful again. Even Puzzles joining back didn’t quite help.

Especially because 4 seemed to have left for good. The silence he left felt louder than anything.

“Dear, are you okay?” Puzzles finally asked him.

Mario couldn’t verbally respond without crying so he just shook his head.

“If… you’re worried about SMG4… I kind of talked to him.”

“Wh… What did you say to him?” Mario asked, though he did tear up in the process.

“Just… something he really needed to hear. A piece of my mind”

“You shouldn’t hurt him… he doesn’t deserve that”

“He WAS hurting you, no?” Puzzles grew a bit frustrated and spoke a bit louder, gaining their friends’ audience.

“Is this about 4?” 3 asked, stepping into it.

“I just.. I told him that he’s hurting Mario with his bullshit.”

“It’s- not-” 

“Yeah, it’s so easy to see! Mario looks miserable ever since 4 started being overprotective” Meggy chimed in.

Mario felt uneasy.

“Guys-”

“Yeah, you guys are right, even I’m upset about it” Luigi joined in after listening for a bit “I’m WELL aware”

“Please just-”

“I’m so sad he’s been causing so much trouble! If only we could all just get along” 

“SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP” Mario broke, scaring everyone.

“Oh, dear…? Are you…”

“You guys are being so mean about Mario’s BEST friend. Sure, he is an asshole but he’s MARIO’S asshole” he got up and left the group, aiming to search for 4, leaving everyone there stunned. Puzzles felt bad.

“I… really thought I was doing the right thing” Puzzles felt guilt wash him over.

“You tried” 3  pat him on his back.

“I just feel like I can’t make things right. Like things won’t ever be perfect”

“Well, with people like us around, it won’t be” 3 tried to be reassuring “but we can try to make it work, you know, love prevails”

“Aww, 3, didn’t know you were giving away advice like this now” Meggy giggled.

3 tried to shush her.

Puzzles smiled at the interaction.

“Is it bad if I need time to  figure out how I can make it work?”

“We’ll be here for you either way” Tari said, stepping beside him.

“Exactly! Cuz what else are friends for?” Luigi joined in.

“Aww you guys” Puzzles could melt “I’ll… really try my best!”

And he got wrapped in a brief group hug. Damn, did it feel nice to have friends!

Meanwhile, Mario was banging on SMG4’s room to no avail, screaming, crying for him to open up. 

“Please….. SMG4…….. This can’t go on… I know Puzzles was a bit mean to you but…. just please talk to me”

“Whatever you want to say you can say without opening the door” 4 said, quietly. It was hard to read his tone.

“I know you’re scared of Mario being tricked into an awful thing but he promises he’s not! If Mr Puzzles wasn’t actually nice he wouldn’t like him as much as he does! Mario knows you want to protect him but still- You shouldn’t feel so much burden over that! Mario doesn’t need you to worry” he was practically crying. He just wanted things to be okay so badly.

He sniffled there for a while.

“Hope you at least tried to understand me” he said, as if hope left him.

And then the world turned awfully quiet for 4. He thought for a while it was nothing. But that nothing really felt like something. As in that something bad could happen, and it could happen right under his nose without him doing anything. 

The anxiety rising in him after a few minutes got the best of him. He finally unlocked the door, even the unlocking felt painfully heavy and slow. He had not time for this shit.

“Mario?” he looked around, seeing no sight of the italian. He grew more worried as he called out again, receiving no response.

He went around in the rooms. He went to check all of them, he was in none of them. Although, something caught his eye about 1 and 2’s room. Something very important. But he wouldn’t go that far… right? Right? 

Okay, now he was REALLY worried as he barged out the door with force that could’ve broken it if it didn’t open so easily as he tried to find any clues where Mario could have gone. This was BAD.

Puzzles could feel it too. He excused himself as he went looking for Mario himself.

As he did, he found 4 first instead.

Puzzles glared at 4. 4 glared at Puzzles.

Time seemed to stop.

After glaring enough both sighed. Which made them look at each other with judgement all over again.

“We should stop this” Puzzles said, begrudgingly. He was holding it back but damn 4 didn’t do much to show he’s good to be around.

“You’re right” 4 sighed, defeated.

“Let’s just… try and find Mario”

“Yeah”

The 2 went on silently, which was the most peaceful they had been around each other.

“You know…” 4 started.

“This isn’t the time”

“I’m just worried over what he might be doing”

“He’s hurt, I know that”

“Duh, idiot”

Puzzles rolled his eyes.

“What do YOU know anyways?”

“He took the godbox piece”

“He did WHAT????”

“I… I noticed it wasn’t in SMG1 and 2’s room anywhere when I looked around to try and find him.”

“Oh my god…”

“Yeah I… god I feel so bad…”

“That’s the first step”

“YOU’ve got nerve”

“SMG4… I get it, you’re jealous, he told me he’d go over to sleep and even cuddle you. I’m… not trying to steal him away”

4 blushed at the mention of it.

“Me? Jealous? No… No I…”

“He IS your best friend so of course you care a lot. I… don’t blame you but you did go too far”

“... I just… can’t help being anxious I guess? It feels like anything can be out to get us at this point…”

“Look… SMG4. I’ll promise you something. I’ll let SMG1 and 2 do all the things and tests to confirm I have no ill will anymore, no godbox manipulation. Don’t you know how it feels? You… become… something else…”

“It’s… scary…”

“I’m sorry if I scared you too”

“Yeah…though, how do you know the fact that the godbox manipulated us before?”

“Sometimes… it’d whisper things. The piece had a faint voice”

“A… A voice??”

“Of course… It would tell me what to do and manipulate my senses to think I’m doing the right thing. It would also tell me some information I could use to my advantage. And sometimes it would utter words I couldn’t connect anywhere. Sometimes I wonder if… the piece itself went insane…”

“That’s… scary I’m… I’m sorry. For… everything these past few days I guess”

“I’ll only accept if you accept me too”

4 stared at Puzzles.

“Maybe after we save Mario from doing something stupid”

They walked for a while. The quiet wasn’t so uncomfortably tense anymore. Puzzles found 4 a lot more likable when he wasn’t swearing at him and staring daggers into him. As they walked they spotted Mario at a cliff, his back turned to them. His arms in front of him, holding the piece. He seemed lost in it.

“Mario!!” Puzzles shouted for him as he and 4 got closer and sped up.

Mario turned a bit too fast, slipping off the edge.

Puzzles and 4 jumped after him with not much thinking. Puzzles caught both of them, utilising his long arms. 4 was too busy fearing death to actually object against it. None of them wanted to die, so badly too. Like a sense of determination crossing across them like electricity, light engulfed all 3 of them, slowly slowing their fall and making them land safely. Though, they barely realised that with how bright and strong the light was. Puzzles noted it was stronger than when he kept Mario back last time. But it felt similar.

As they finally came back to their senses from such an adrenaline inducing fall, 4 picked Mario up, cheering he was saved. But Puzzles did too. And he was taller so with that 4 came too. 4 didn’t mind it much but it did feel weird being lifted up like this. While Mario was SO confused.

“I’m so glad we managed to save you” Puzzles expressed his happiness with words.

“Mario thought he’d die for good”

“Did you want to?” 4 asked.

Mario lowered his head, not answering. But then for a different reason as he looked in his hands, seeing what the piece had become. It went form the pit of darkness it had, turning blindingly bright but still somehow safe to look at. It also seemed to constantly shift in shape. The other 2 looked at it too, just as confused.

“Did we… do this?” Puzzles asked.

“Guess so” 4 replied.

Mario looked at one of them then the other.

“You 2 are not trying to kill each other anymore?”

“We… talked” 4 said “I’m sorry for how I acted, Mario… I really am”

“Mario knows”

“I’m also sorry. Lashing out wasn’t exactly the… best choice I made today”

“You both need therapy”

The 2 laughed.

“We’ll make it work. Somehow” Puzzles reassured Mario, finally putting both of them down.

“And we need to show 1 and 2 what happened to the piece. I don’t know whether they’ll be super excited about it or if they’ll be bummed out they can’t examine it further”

“Probably a bit of both”

“Mario’s…” Mario spoke up, changing the subject “MARIO’S SO HAPPY HIS FAVOURITE PEOPLE ARE GETTING ALONG” he was jumping with joy. It only just fully settled in then.

That was when the others got there.

“You guys are okay??” Meggy was running in the front.

“We were so worried!” Boopkins ran ahead, although he was trying to catch his breath.

“Sure are but” 4 pointed at the piece that changed in Mario’s hands. 

Everyone was shocked, 1 and 2 were in fact so shocked they both fell over. There was a lot to tell and the crew was sure shocked, especially at the fact that 4 and Puzzles talked it out. The piece went back to its rightful place and then they could finally have the few days they’d spend there be chiller. There were still problems but it wasn’t anything the crew couldn’t bear. One could say that they weren’t perfect but they still found integrity.

For now. You know the saying, nothing lasts forever! However for now, things are okay, which was what really mattered.

[aylacavebear]

Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. - Ch. 15

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 2615

Warnings: Angst, suspense, emotional situations, The Tension is Growing, Premonitions.

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 15

For a while, you just sat there, your emotions running completely rampant as your thoughts ran laps around your mind. They all knew something that you hadn’t been told. Whatever it was, it wasn’t in your parent's letters, and it was more than Dean had already told you, which you thought had been everything.

Even if you still weren’t convinced he was your soul mate, you had kept your distance from him, only keeping things to friendship. The thought of the whole soul mate thing made your mind snap back to how you’d ended up alone in this room and looked around for a mirror. Finding one hanging over the dresser, you walked over to it and moved your dress so you could see what had only been incoherent lines.

You felt a knot in your stomach as you looked at it. The only letter that had come in was the last one, an n. 

There are other names that end with the letter ‘n.’

You needed to write down every tidbit of information you had at the moment. Quickly scanning the room, you found a notepad and a pen on one of the nightstands. 

No mark at 16. Parents killed at 2. Wounded soul. Shunned by town. Winchesters showed up 3 months before my 25th birthday. Promotion at garage and became Dean’s boss. They joked about him not doing anything funny with me. Sam and Dean knew I didn’t get my mark. Have to fully heal to get my mark. Dean knew something when he met me, and so did the boys at the garage. I could talk to Dean, easily, honestly. He saw me at school. Lisa isn’t Dean’s soulmate. Bobby had us work together on Dean’s first day, and we became friends, quickly. Dean was always thinking of me. The adults knew about the marriage contract and never told me, and they knew my parents hid key documents. Bobby and John were thankful Dean and I hit it off so quickly and became friends.

The more you wrote out, the faster your heart began beating. Most of that had only happened within the first month of meeting the Winchesters. There was so much more that was there, and you needed to see how it all fit together, like the parts of a car. That was how your mind worked, slowly seeing the connections. You’d never wanted to hope to find your soulmate, even after what Dean had said.

My parents left me letters, telling me about the Vaughts. The Vaughts knew what would happen if I lost my parents. They knew about my lineage. They knew I would be an empath.

That last line made you stop and think further.

Wait. Why would that matter? What would be the purpose of making me marry Cole? Why is that important? What about an empath, don’t I know?

You pulled out your phone and began searching online for anything related to empaths and why they’d be important, other than in specific jobs that helped people. There were more things you probably should have written down, but with the questions plaguing your mind, you had to find answers.

Nearly an hour, perhaps longer, passed, and you were still attempting to find anything that would answer your questions. You’d made a few notes, but it was only tiny pieces. One interesting thing was that if an empath found their soulmate, they could hear each other’s thoughts, but there was no conclusive evidence on the distance that worked. That didn’t help your other questions when it came to the Vaught family.

Frustrated, you tossed your phone on the bed and looked back at the list you’d been making. Reluctantly, you picked up the pen and jotted down other things. 

Dean seemed to know what I was feeling even if I hid it. He was always there when I had a nightmare. He never pushed anything intimate. All he ever did was try to comfort me and be there for me. He said he knew I was his soulmate at 16. The Vaughts

At that moment, goosebumps ran down your entire body. The Vaughts knew he was your soulmate. Dean had explained what had happened with that woman, Lisa. Even in your parents' letters, they had told you what the Vaughts were capable of. Now you had new questions, on top of the ones before.

Why didn’t Dean get closer to you? What was holding him back? Why wouldn’t he want to help you heal by being intimately close? What did your twenty-fifth birthday have to do with it all, and why was that date so important? 

That’s when you remembered Sam had told you that the powers that be were keeping this sort of thing from making it to the regular news. You glanced at the closed door of that bedroom and sighed, setting the pen down on the notepad. Yeah, you could storm back down there and demand answers, but what would it accomplish? 

You reluctantly got up and went through your bag, finding some comfortable pajama pants and a tank top. After changing and brushing out your hair, you laid on your back on the bed. You wanted to be alone, but you wanted so badly to have Dean there holding you like he would when you typically felt like this. The fact that he hadn’t come, hurt a bit, but you told yourself he was just busy hanging out with those he hadn’t seen in a while. You’d been the one to storm off.

My life sucks.

The thought made you roll onto your side, pull one of the pillows out from under the covers, and cuddle up to it. Your mark burned again, but you ignored it, no matter how badly it stung. You didn’t want to deal with anything, feeling as overwhelmed as you did. There were far too many questions circling your mind and just as many emotions coursing through your body to let you focus on any one thing, let alone deal with any of them.

With a heavy sigh, you closed your eyes, exhausted in every sense of the word. Your body, mind, and soul needed rest. So, you let the heaviness in your eyes win, slowly closing them as your body relaxed into the mattress, letting sleep take you.

The sounds of hounds woke you sometime in the middle of the night or perhaps very early morning, pulling you from another nightmare. Your heart was pounding, and your breathing was ragged, but you forced yourself off the bed and to the window as the house seemed eerily quiet. The stillness outside on the grounds of Crowley’s property made you think the shadows were moving, watching you. A shiver ran down your body as you watched three large dogs dart across a section of lawn where a lamppost stood.

He’s here…

The thought scared you, and it was hard to breathe, as if something was pressing against your chest.

Dean…

Without thinking, you ran out of your room, needing to find him, more to reassure yourself that he was okay. Halfway down another hall, you stopped dead in your tracks as an image began forming in your mind. 

It was somewhere outside, on Crowley’s land, around his home. Four men in tactical gear were slowly making their way closer to the house, using the shadows to stay hidden. They almost reminded you of what a SWAT team looked like, guns and all. Now you saw dogs, big, black, fierce dogs, more than a dozen of them, moving in packs of three. They were hunting. They, too, were using the shadows to move, just as silently as the four men. Broken glass and a silent gunshot in one of the rooms of the house. The room was blurry, and hard to make out the details. Someone was sitting on the edge of the bed, and there was a dart on the person's neck, but you couldn’t make out enough details.

You shook your head a bit, pushing the images away. With the emotions swirling through your mind and body, you took a shaky breath, steadying your nerves. Something you had read online teased its way through your mind. 

Follow the thread.

For a moment, you closed your eyes, taking slow, deep breaths and letting them out just as slowly. You knew that in order to find it, you had to accept that Dean was your soul mate, which both terrified you and brought you a sense of peace. When you opened your eyes again, you turned to the direction you’d come from, feeling a strange pull.

The darkness in Crowley’s mansion wasn’t what brought the feelings of dread that seemed to seep into your nerves. It was the eerie silence, not even the dogs outside making a sound. The shadows seemed to dance or move of their own accord. You set your hand on the wall, letting it guide you through the darkness.

You tried to find that thread, but it eluded you. Some light came in through the large windows near the stairs that led down the main room. For a moment, you looked outside. The grounds were still, and that stillness felt out of place. A shiver ran down your spine as the hair on the back of your neck stood on end. It was like someone was watching you.

When you were able to pull your gaze from the window, you continued down the stairs, creeping quietly through the main entrance. Cautiously, you opened the dining area doors. You almost felt like a mouse thrown into a game of cat and mouse that you had no control over. Swallowing hard, you looked under the table. You let out a sigh of relief, having found nothing there. Finally managing a deep breath, you pushed yourself through the dining room and into the kitchen. 

The light wasn’t on, none of them were, and you hadn’t come across anyone, not even servants. For a moment, you thought you’d seen the flash of a light outside one of the kitchen windows. Slowly, you crept closer to it, cautiously glancing around. Your heart was pounding so loud you were sure it would give away your location. 

A shadow that moved in the darkness outside the window sent a wave of fear throughout your body. Slowly, your hand covered your mouth, and you began backing up just as slowly. Someone came up behind you when you reached the center of the kitchen, wrapping one arm around you and putting a hand over your mouth. Just as you were about to scream, he spoke.

“Shhh, it’s me, Sweetheart,” he whispered softly, slowly taking his hand from your mouth.

You swung around in his arms and wrapped yours over his shoulders. “I was so worried something had happened to you,” you whispered, keeping your voice down.

“I’m okay,” Dean quietly tried to reassure you, holding you close, while also keeping a watchful eye. “Come on, it’s not safe here.”

Dean quietly but quickly led you to what looked like a study. There were no windows here, but the entire staff, Crowley, and Benny were there. There were also a couple of other men, although you hadn’t met them before. Dean pulled you into his arms after he closed and locked the door, wanting to help calm your nerves.

“Good, you found her,” Crowley said, both relieved and pleased, but he wasn’t happy that Dean had gone looking for you.

Dean just shot him a glare but stayed quiet; his focus was only on you now. Benny stayed leaning against a nearby wall, his arms crossed, unhappy with the situation.

“What’s going on?” you finally asked in a whisper, not wanting to mention the images you’d seen from earlier.

“Nick isn’t one to follow the orders of anyone,” Crowley sighed. “It’s why I arranged to have the three of you brought here until the next court date. The FBI isn’t capable of keeping anyone safe from that family.” 

Slowly, you looked over at him but stayed in Dean’s arms. “You knew they’d come after me?” you asked, a little confused.

“Love, he’s not just after you. He needs leverage, to make you comply. Figured you would have realized that already.” Crowley stated as he shot Dean a knowing look, which you didn’t miss. “That whole family knows they only have so much time before you’re useless to them.”

That made your brow furrow in complete confusion. You pulled away from Dean, looking up at him, now needing answers. “What haven’t you told me?” you asked him bluntly, but also were terrified of the answer.

You saw the sadness flash across his eyes before he hid it, even if he couldn’t look at you. “If Cole marries you before your mark comes in, it won’t matter who your soulmate is, your mark will change to his name, because you’re an empath.” Dean finally confessed quietly.

The silence in the room was deafening, but your heart was pounding, and again, it felt like you could barely breathe. For several moments, all you could do was stand there in a state of shock. It was the final piece to the puzzle that made everything else make sense, and the thought of that terrified you. 

“How do I make my mark come in all the way?” you asked quietly, your voice shaky, and your nerves felt like they were all exposed and firing all at once.

Dean finally met your gaze, as it had never left him. There was pain and hurt in his eyes, but you also saw a hint of hope. You could see his hesitation like he wanted desperately to give you the answer, but something was holding him back.

“Bloody hell,” Crowley’s exasperated words broke the silence. “If you don’t tell her, I will.”

That made both you and Dean jump a little, but you never looked away from him, even when he shot Crowley another glare before looking at you again. He managed a deep breath, but it was shaky. Before he could open his mouth to say anything, the man who had been standing near Crowley, watching monitors, spoke up.

“The Hellhounds have done their job. I’ll inform the police and the FBI,” the man told Crowley, his British accent thick.

Crowley took an annoyed breath, “Thank you, Ketch. You may all return to your rooms. The situation has been handled.”

With a heavy heart, you went to the door first, unlocked it, and headed toward your room. The staff followed you out, Ketch bringing up the rear, but Dean and Benny stayed behind with Crowley. You rubbed the place where your mark was, your gaze on the floor as you slowly made your way back to your room.

Dean’s words seemed to play on repeat through your mind. At least now you understood why the powers that be had kept something like this under wraps. If it got out, there were far too many grim possibilities that could happen. What was bugging you was that Dean knew more; they all did, and you still hadn’t gotten all the answers you needed.

You closed your bedroom door but couldn’t relax, so you paced a few feet from the foot of the bed. Your mind swam with questions. After several minutes, you finally just plopped down on the foot of your bed, frustrated, when you felt a sharp stinging feeling on the side of your neck. Just as you reached for it and your vision went blurry, someone came into view as they stepped out of the closet, and then everything went black.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 16 - Coming soon

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If I missed tagging, please let me know. I had a lot of requests for tags for this one. If you'd like to be tagged, drop me a comment.

[yanderes-galore]

Fandom: HOTD

Characters: Aemond Targaryen, Aegon Targaryen

Pairing: Rivalry (romantic for both)

Type of fic: Concept

Extra info: Both Aemond and Aegon start to take notice of maid!Darling. I was thinking Darling being / becoming a handmaid of,, Helaena for example, could be a way for both Aegon and Aemond to have a way to constantly see Darling, thus letting their obsession grow even more

-🥝 anon 🤎🤎

Poor girl just trying to do her job only to have two princes after her....

Yandere! Aemond Targaryen vs Aegon II Targaryen with Maid! Darling

Pairing: Romantic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Jealousy, Violence, Mature themes, Harassment/Unwanted affection, Murder, Targcest (Aegon and Helaena due to canon), Forced relationship(s)

Being Helaena's handmaid is usually a quiet job.

The woman often keeps to herself, muttering to herself as she plays with her insects.

You clean, speak to her, and act as a companion to the Targaryen princess.

You're around the same age and are always at her side.

However, this naturally gets you in contact with her siblings.

Both princes are bad in their own ways.

Aegon is bad because he's... touchy.

Aegon is infamous for bedding any woman he has access to.

Maids, brothels, any woman.

Which means you are constantly hit on, courted, and cornered when around Aegon.

Aemond is much better in this regard.

While he is similar to Daemon, his uncle, in many ways...

Aemond does not have the hedonism his uncle and brother have.

No... But he does have the very same bloodlust Daemon does.

Meaning he tends to duel (or straight up murder) those he thinks are too close.

So... both brothers are bad in their own right towards their obsession.

Them in a rivalry? Well, based on what I've seen and written...

Sibling rivalries within the Targaryen dynasty are quite dangerous.

Or any family at all in ASOIAF.

Would the two murder one another? Aemond might.

However, he knows better than just doing it.

He'd want to frame it as an accident or frame it on someone else.

An example of this in canon is during Season 2 of the show with Aegon vs Rhaenys.

He felt he could get away with burning Aegon with Vhagar during the battle.

And if Criston Cole didn't catch him?

He probably would've finished the job.

Now, would Aegon?

He seems to be the one more likely to tease or threaten, but not entirely follow through.

However, both princes are still dangerous and possessive.

It just appears Aemond, ironically the one who isn't trying to bed you every five seconds, happens to be the biggest threat.

I want to add spice to this request and say Helaena would try to support and protect you from her brothers.

Although... Her character isn't very... assertive.

She would probably try to keep you away from her brothers.

Yet Aegon would ignore her, trying to pull you away, saying you'd serve him better as his servant.

While Aemond may compromise, allowing Helaena to stay beside you while Aemond has your company.

Aegon's yandere behavior is both dominant and submissive I feel.

He can be intimidating, yet alone with his obsession and if you play your cards right?

Putty.

Aemond, however, is just dominant...

He's more attentive to your needs but is controlling.

Naturally, though, both princes like the idea of controlling a maid darling.

All while Helaena pities and worries for you... as when the rivalry occurs, you're barely attending to her.

Both brothers are affectionate in their own ways.

Aegon likes to corrupt you, offering pleasure and gifts to make you like him more.

While Aemond tries to be more of a chaste gentleman, still giving you gifts but often offering dances or walks.

Occasionally you're around to watch their sword practices... and the two destroy one another when they notice you're there.

Ser Criston Cole has to pull the maway from one another, both men bleeding and fighting like moody teens.

Alicent grows increasingly concerned that her two eldest sons are fighting over a handmaid.

She's been trying to work on betrothals for them in order to help them stay on track.

Yet both princes keep clinging around you while Helaena begs her mother to help her.

Helaena considers you a friend since youth, she just wants you happy.

She can tell you're overwhelmed by her brothers' infatuation over you.

You may be a simple maid, a woman made to serve...

But the princes don't care.

They want your hand regardless.

This is strange for both of them, especially Aegon who never even considered marriage for a long time.

The only reason Aegon begins to accept Alicent betrothing him to Helaena is because he has better access to you.

Which just makes Aemond more determined to marry you, begging Alicent to betroth you both so Aegon can be kept away.

You begin to wonder if you'd make better money somewhere else... serving some lord far from King's Landing.

Alas... fate isn't merciful to you.

As war eventually comes to be, more attempts at kinslaying come up.

During The Dance... Aegon is crowned king and Aemond is meant to serve him with his dragon Vhagar.

However, the two are still planning on keeping you to themselves.

Aegon may have more opportunities to keep you to himself, much to Helaena's dismay...

But the two brothers still have each other to deal with.

As more battles begin, the two siblings start plotting betrayal.

In fact, if we want to follow canon, Aemond may get Aegon back by burning him.

With Aegon bedridden or dead... and Aemond in power...

You'd belong to Aemond.

Although... maybe you want an alternate timeline, where Aemond is assassinated either by Aegon's order or Daemon's...

Allowing Aegon to keep you as his beloved maid.

Either way... it looks like you'll be stuck with one of them in the end.

Hopefully The Blacks will win against The Greens...

Maybe then you'll be freed from the twisted princes... maybe then you can go back to your old life with both of them dead.

[aph-america]

Can you analyze amerus relationships in canon?

yeah why not!

when it comes to Alfred’s side of things, I did a one that I’ll link here. Def check it out since I include strips from the comic to showing why I feel the way I do. Quick summary is basically: Alfred is sooo unserious about Ivan. He isn’t scared of him, tries to one up him, isn’t fazed by him or his threats. And he hangs out with him because he wants to, not because he’s scared of him.

I really enjoy the ship because it’s based on the fact that Ivan’s met his match. Someone who isn’t afraid to say no, teases and bites back. (In the comic, when Ivan calls Matthew about their friendship, he complains about how Alfred always says no to his ideas and is annoyed that Matthew just goes along with it: or so he feels that way).

I’m a fanfic writer so- I find it fun and when I’m writing them I always include that Ivan’s attracted (and when nationverse also frustrated at times) to that. Personally for me, it’s not the most fun to write a relationship based off of fear. I just find it boring and overdone. (Alfred as a child was strong enough to throw a bull, and he’s afraid of ghost because he can’t punch them. Why would he be scared of Ivan?) Same with the hate sex thing. Maybe because I’m sexually active I know it’s just kind of not a thing haha. Instead of hate sex I like to (on Ivan side) have him be VERY annoyed and conflicted that he finds Alfred attractive, and enjoys the man’s confidence. He ends up giving into Alfred’s advances and flirtations, as he’s not used to someone pinning after him. Star crossed lovers also I’m WEAK for.

And for Alfred’s side, I make him frustrated that Ivan won’t accept capitalism, (he thinks he does everything better than everyone else, thinks he’s always right, doesn’t like being told no) and like I said in this post: in fics I always write him as very pressed, he views Ivan almost like a trophy… a prize for his conquest to not only be the sole world power, but to finally push his sphere of influence into Russia. (Hey still some toxic for the people who enjoy it)

I know you said canon, but I can’t help to include my own personal headcanons. As they are part of the reason I have fun and enjoy it. Hetalia is NOT a serious show: it’s short comics and a five minute anime based around WW2, written by a Japanese man who makes it unserious. I’m not one of those historical fans that take it incredibly seriously. (Not trying to shame people who are, it’s just that in my ten years in the fandom, my personal experiences have been being talked down to/shamed for being silly by them). One of the reasons why I tend to write human au’s is because I don’t need someone breathing down my throat about historical accuracy. I’m here to have fun!!!!! But those are my thoughts. Sorry for the rambles. They don’t interact that much in canon so you gotta really expand their relationship when writing.

[thieves-never-say-die]

So glad to encounter another White Collar fan! I've enjoyed following your watch of the series and reliving memories from my first watch, and I'm intrigued about the fics you mentioned you're working on. Can you share a little about the fics?

I'm glad you're enjoying my watch! It's been a wild ride and I'm so happy I got around to finishing the show.

And I will take any excuse to talk about my fics SO there's a few that are just general Neal whump, one in specific that I'm still thinking about and haven't actually written anything for yet is for s5e4 Controlling Interest, because they really didn't do enough with Neal getting drugged twice in (I think) one day??? Insane that there were no side effects. Also I think it would be interesting to go into depth about what Neal tells Peter before Mozzie gets there, because we know he's talking about his childhood and they only give us like one line, but I'm kind of waiting to finish the series and see if they fill in any more gaps about his mom themselves before I go out and write that one (they have to tell us more about his mom. right? please someone tell me they give us more about his mom, we've gotten like two lines and they paint a very sad picture)

The other two are VERY angsty AU's. The first of which is 'what if Neal kills Keller in s3' (I think in ep 11? when El gets kidnapped?) because there is NO REASON for Neal to be good with guns. Why is he that good with guns. There is no precedent for Neal to be that good with guns. I just think it would be interesting (read: very sad) if Neal accidentally kills Keller while trying to protect Peter.

The second is at the end of s4 when Neal is trying to keep James around so Peter isn't charged with Pratt's murder, James shouts "don't make me do something I'll regret" which my brain immediately went "ok but what if he did something he'll regret". Which started off simple but has spiraled out into a much longer fic so that one's taking a while to write.

[grif-hawaiian-rolls]

Anyways the “essay” about the energy sword to character development pipeline below the cut

Ok so like yea tucker-crunchbite-junior is, obviously, the first instance of the sword-quest-companion theme/trio that im like, rattling in my head rn

Tucker finds the sword, crunchbite shows up and theres the “quest” that challenges tucker both in the false intent (you need to be the hero) and the true intent (SA leading to Junior which is not handled well but it IS important) which is a push against tucker’s character thus far in that he’s the comic relief, make everything a sex joke archetype— he doesnt take it seriously, he doesnt see himself as important beyond getting just enough recognition to be “hot” and now he’s made to be the so called “hero” and the true plot puts him in the one position that he probably never thought could be him. Bc he wants to get laid so… yeah. Pushes his character if you give it like three seconds of critical thinking and not just the standard “haha alien baby bullshit” (that said, i do enjoy fics that explore crunchbite more and play with the potential of the “joke” shitty character into someone less sinister, but im doin my best to stick to canon rn)

And JUNIOR, oh man, because theres the thing that really solidifies this for me like

The dude who doesnt care doesnt bother is all jokes and ‘man whatever’ energy is a dad, and it starts with him trying to avoid it but he really fucking quickly steps the FUCK up for Junior and its the start of his development that people are like “oh he learns to be a leader on chorus” which i mean kinda yeah but he never struck me as a Leader even on Chorus even tho he does decidedly lead, its not the same as when kimball leads or when wash leads or carolina

He’s leads as a dad bc he is a dad

Not always a good one, but he’s trying and yea sometimes that means being the asshole, sometimes that means screwing up but it also means you fucking care and you take responsibility and you put yourself in danger first (the rescue mission, leaving the lieutenants behind)

And that doesnt start on chorus! Its the most evident there sure but

it starts with junior

It starts with him going after tex to protect his son, it starts with him trying to be a diplomat so they stay together, in sending junior away so he is safe while tucker buys time protecting the temple, it STARTS with him looking at church and going “leave my kid out of this” and yeah the way rvb was written and approached does Not take that seriously bc it wouldnt and if it did it would be a very different show but the implications are there and its acknowledged with tucker’s photograph of junior with his 5th grade basketball team (“i know right? Who carries actual pictures anymore” -tucker) which i could go on about THAT too but suffice to say its very clear that tucker cares so gd much about his kid and yeah his character development isnt super linear but you can basically pinpoint when it starts with the sword and junior

The second run of this trio of things is actually grif which is admittedly, a stretch, a big ol reaching for straws (okay, TECHNICALLY grif is the third run, but i’ll address that in a minute) largely a stretch bc grif… does the pattern backwards

This IS S16 stuff so if ur a shisno paradox hater i respect that, i however am gnawing on it with everything i have and will be going feral so this is your warning thank u for reading the tucker side of it mwah appreciate ya

Anyways

Grif does his plot backwards during timetravel shenanigans

He gets the alien companion/friend who contrasts his character first in Huggins

Grif is a loyal friend, but he is lazy, even after s15’s breakdown and apparent change of tune, he’s still looking to take the path of least resistance, avoiding the call, trying to keep things from moving

Enter Huggins: zippy, full of energy, excitable and just so different in that she is not only so proactive she puts herself in danger (which helps everyone in the long run/plot but its the principle) but shes so fucking lonely

As far as she knows, her family is dead, except for muggins who is so dettached from her, he might as well be a coworker and not her brother

Compared to grif, who has a family even when he tries to push them away (the reds, the blues, KAIKAINA) but hates taking action

Huggins is the start for grif’s arc of “it sucks but someones gotta do it” which in their case is best shown as the trudge across the bottom of the english channel which is so fucking funny to me but it really pushes both of them and puts them firmly in the friends category

Huggins cant zip ahead without grif, grif cant stop moving because huggins wont let him, so they find their little balance of gas vs brakes and together they cruise along p well

The actual push of the “quest” is grif having to be the one who steps up (kinda like tucker but its to the left) he’s the one who starts getting everyone together again across the timeline, even if he is very,,,

Well he’s very Grif about it, but it is still fundamentally, the change in character

Tucker isn’t a always good dad, Grif isn’t always a good instigator of action

But theyre trying and theyre working on it and grif’s arc suffers a Little from being so late in the show and thus not having much of a parallel to pull on but you could argue he gets the parallel from s15 anyways with the refusal of the call (from fake church/loco) and rescue mission but i hesitate to call that a parallel bc its literally back to back but an argument could be made for it which i love

Enter part two: the alien quest giver

“Wait wasnt that huggins”

NOPE huggins was alien companion! The Bestie in grif’s case,

The alien fetch quest comes from atlas, in that stupid wishing sequence but cmon it wouldnt be rvb if the character development wasnt sandwiched inbetween obnoxious gags and stupidity

The quest is less important here admittedly bc again, with grif doing this in reverse its not the challenge to his principle character that it was for tucker, his connection to huggins was the challenge, and this becomes the final push into the development, the “you have a role, now play it” that gives grif the final shove into Doing Things literal!! And his prize? For this character development arc? An alien sword

And thus the inverse version reaches an end, sort of (im pissed that technically he loses his sword, im also ignoring that he loses it in canon bc he fucking earned it okay this is a bit of canon i will ignore and loophole my way around it)

And now we track back to Chorus and to the second iteration of the sword-quest-companion plot

Locus

Now okay i will admit this is conjecture and pepe-silvia-on-corkboard-with-red-string fuckery at this point but hear me out okay!

He gets the sword with Felix’s death. We know this. What we dont know is how the fucking hell he gets off Chorus! We just see him show up later with A’rynasea. The vaguely alien (maybe sentient?? AI? Its implied with the way he addresses her but we literally have her for like two episodes) ship that seems to be the driving force (literal) (bc shes his ship) behind his chosen redemption arc where he pushes himself to help others at no apparent benefit to himself, but because it is, and i quote “the right thing to do”

Arguably, Santa could be Locus’ quest giver, seeing as how he is the one who triggers the whole shift in view for Locus in the first place and that is, technically, what crunchbite does and what atlas finalizes for grif! But the problem is we simply dont have enough of A’rynasea to draw the parallel between her and Locus as personalities, as companions for it to work for me??? But that might just be me overthinking? But it does make Locus’ version is a bit messier depending on who you consider his quest-giver but as far as I’m concerned, he’s still on his quest snd its just up to interpretation if A’rynasea is his companion?? or if theres a secret third alien for Locus that we never wouldve seen even if they planned for that bc its red vs blue and im just delusional about locus and his role in plot and this is just me firing concepts blindly into the sky at this point like - yeah i could still theorize what kind of companion characterization i think locus would work well with bc its more about the wielder than the companion in this sense (sorry junior and huggins i love yall i promise) but thats a completely separate rant at this point and not nearly coherent enough at this exact moment to add it PLUS its ridiculously self indulgent and only marginally canon compliant/adjacent but i will never not be amused by this very specific plot beat happening enough to draw these parallels, as tenuous and vague as the parallels are

[lokimobius]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by the lovely @elodiah <3

I'm still working on my next door neighbours au. Currently it's looking like it might be two chapters, but we'll see! I don't think I'll be posting it until it's completely written though.

I may or may not have written Mobius as a bit of a disaster gay in this part of the fic. He only has a "tiny crush" on his neighbour; it's nothing serious, of course... Don't judge him!!!!! He's a repressed university professor. His life doesn't get much more exciting than this!

His eyes widened when he caught sight of himself in the mirror. His hair was tousled messily at the back of his head from where he’d been lying on his sofa all morning. A shiver ran down his spine. Had he really answered the door like this? He pulled at it nervously, trying to make it more presentable, which only made it look strangely neat. “Damn it!” He grumbled under his breath. “You got a serious case of helmet head, Mobius.” He ran both hands through his hair and tousled it, this time going for a more deliberate dishevelled look. After having the same hairstyle for most of his life, his friends had convinced him to try growing his hair out. They promised him that it would look good, and they were right. It was a good look for him. However, he still had no idea how to style it. Normally, the way he looked wouldn't bother him, but he was about to have the most put together person he'd ever seen in his apartment. He gave his hair a final smoothing over, silently cursing himself for not making more of an effort with his appearance in the first place. In his defence, he hadn’t been expecting guests today, let alone Loki. A loud knock at the front door interrupted his preening, and he jumped, his heart thudding in his chest. “Shit!” He bared his teeth at his reflection quickly. Did he have anything in them? Did his moustache look okay? Were his glasses on straight? Oh god, he was wearing his glasses. No one was supposed to see him in these. He took them off and threw them onto his sofa as he raced past it to unlock the door. Loki stood outside in his slippers and robe, holding a fluffy green towel and what looked like a cosmetic pouch in his arms.

No pressure tags to: @loki-is-my-kink-awakening @kcscribbler @in-my-loki-feels @thosegayoldmen

@silentxsymphony @devilbearingtrouble @andthekitchensinkao3

[anaer]

wip wednesday (sept 18 24)

JJK time travel fix it fuck it up fic CHAPTER TWO (in which gojo ends up back in time and decides its time for a hostile takeover) sukugo/stsg rating: gojo plots murder

“So I think I’m going to kill the higher-ups next week,” Gojo announced to Nanami and Shoko that evening.

Nanami choked on the beer he was drinking, squawking like he was dying even more when Gojo (very gently) slapped his back to help him.

“Stop that before you break his ribs,” Shoko chided, reaching over the table to shove him away from Nanami.

“I was helping!”

“Helping make my life more difficult when I end up having to heal him.” Shoko gave him a pointed, blank look. “And it sounds like I’ll have my hands full in the next few days, so I want to enjoy my night.”

“Ah, it’s fine; I won’t do it until at least Tuesday. You’ve got time.”

“No,” Nanami said between coughs, pounding on his own chest. “Stop talking. I don’t want to hear this.”

Gojo leaned to the side, face fully in Nanami’s space. Nanami tried to lean backwards but there wasn’t much room in the inside of the booth he was trapped in. Regret was already written over his face, but regret was the only emotion Gojo ever got from Nanami, so he paid it no mind. “Don’t worry, Nanami! I’m not killing them just for shits. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll definitely enjoy it, but this is just because Sukuna said society’s hierarchy should be determined by strength and he thought I’d be in charge, and I’m thinking he might be right.”

One second, two, three of Nanami processing what Gojo had just said. Confusion ran across his face followed quickly by abject horror before settling into resignation as he said, “What?” Fingers pressed against his forehead, pinching away the headache he would most likely claim was growing. “Why are you enabling this idiocy?” he asked Shoko.

Shoko laughed and tossed back her whiskey. “Oh, right. You don’t know. Gojo is apparently from next year.” She nodded in Gojo’s direction. “He made a whole timeline. It’s pretty interesting. You die, apparently, but I make it.”

Nanami’s face looked even more pinched as he dragged his own drink to his mouth.

“Yeah, I died, too,” Gojo added. “Which, you know, kinda sucked, but as far as ways to die go, I’d say that was a solid nine out of ten. Pretty fun, all things considered.”

Nanami mouthed ‘fun’ with disbelief against the rim of his cup.

Shoko was still laughing, entirely too amused for what was, in fact, a very serious situation. Gojo didn’t mind, though. Unlike some people (Suguru), she took his threats seriously. She just thought he was naturally funny, which he was. “And get this: he’s also in love with Ryoumen Sukuna now.”

Nanami started choking again. Gojo very pointedly did not try and help him this time.

“The mummified fingers?” he finally managed. He dropped his glass back down onto the table, but only because it was empty.

“Mm,” Gojo acknowledged. “I’m pretty sure he’s at least a little in love with me, too. Or at least he was; now I have to go through the whole process of seducing him again. Fuck. It went so perfectly last time! I nearly killed him. He killed me. We had a moment!”

Nanami blinked very slowly at him. “And this is why…you want to kill the higher-ups,” he said, voice dry.

Gojo waved him off with one hand and sat back in his chair. “Nah. That wouldn’t impress him; they’re too weak. I’m going to kill them for me.” He beamed as he said it, delighted by the thought.

Nanami rubbed his forehead like that would at all ease the impending headache growing behind his eyes. He didn’t get it. Of course not. Gojo nodded as he decided to explain further.

“Here’s the thing: I didn’t kill them last time. I mean, I did. I completely butchered those fools, and it was the best part of my birthday.” Nanami looked like he wanted to die. Gojo ignored it and continued. “But I didn’t before they fucked everything. I could’ve. I should’ve. But, you know, everyone’s so insistent you have to be a good person all the time. If you murder people, they’re all ‘oh you’re an evil cult leader now, you have to be kicked out of society’.”

“To be fair,” Shoko interjected, “Geto deserved it. Don’t defend him for that; he dumped you at a KFC.”

“First of all, he didn’t dump me. We just grew apart. Because he’s obnoxious and I can’t stand listening to him talk. Also, the whole murdering most of the world thing is a big turn-off. If he’d only decided to murder a couple thousand people, I could’ve been on board.”

Shoko and Nanami exchanged a look.

“Anyway,” Gojo continued. “That’s not the point. I tried being a good person, and it didn’t end well for anyone. And killing those idiots was both fun and a net good, so why wait this time? I’ll do it now. Before everything is fucked. I can’t possibly run things worse than they do.”

It was possible Nanami mouthed something like, ‘so we’re all doomed,’ right before he downed the rest of his drink, but Gojo, as always, graciously ignored him.