#i have. so many ideas for how i could do things better now

[flw3rrr]

I love the idea of sevika with a retired brothel worker. Like they fell in love and sevika got her a job at the last drop or smth.

I also love the idea of mama sevika. I would love to give her a child 😭 so maybe domestic fluff around sevika her wife and their child. Lil' Families are my favorite thing

The bright side of things

Parings: Sevika x Retiredbrothelworker!reader

Warnings: Nothing major, Fluff, just full on FLUFF, No mentions of Y/n, and no description of reader. Sevika trying to seem tough around the kid, but fails. (100% let me know if anything is missed!)

Word count: 1.4k

Not proofread! sorry for any typos. I wrote this at like 2 am....oops

A/n: Thank you so much for this request. I loved this idea so much when I first read it, so I had to do this one immediately! 

(I have so many more amazing requests in my inbox, and I'll get to them soon! Thanks so much again for sending this, and I hope you enjoy it)

Dividers by: @cafekitsune

Ever since you retired from working at the brothel, life seemed more simple and comfortable. Sevika, who you met a few months ago before your retirement, had grown onto you. The way she carried herself whenever she would stride around the building made you burn inside a little.

It all got better when you were told you were booked for an hour. Dreading what kind of person you'd have to entertain or boost their ego to make them feel something, but with a big surprise when your face met with Sevika's, she was leaning back, legs spread open as a cigar sat on her lips. That's how everything started for the both of you.

Sevika offered you a job at the last drop when you first told her of your retirement; it got tiring and exhausting physically and mentally. Your heart melted at her offer and took it immediately. It's something you never in your life thought you would work at, but what can you expect? It's a way better job than working at a brothel, body sore and no break.

You always remember to thank her whenever possible; Sevika isn't the type to show affection in public, so you'd always kiss her on the cheek and lips as a way of thanking her. Sharing each sweet moment with one another in your new shared apartment. The undercity wasn't some fairytale place to grow up, but with her presence, it made you forget everything.

Sevika likes that you took her offer on working at the last drop. She now gets to keep an eye on you, especially when she plays poker, and in the quick moment whenever you'd hand her a drink, your eye's lock on hers every time you hand her the glass, a soft and sweet look. Of course her gaze locks in yours in return, but never softens; she can't let half of the undercity that she's practically on her knees for you.

And this is where the both of you are now, still together and head over heels for one another. The two of you sat on the couch that sat in the small living room; you held a sketchbook, drawing random doodles, never being the professional type, though. Sevika just watches you making a game of her own on trying to guess what you're making or stares very confusingly at it. Everything was quiet and calm until a thump was heard from one of the bedroom doors.

The sound of feet padding against the wooden floor became louder until a small girl appeared with a huge smile on her face. Immediately she decided to join the both of you on the couch, but rather than sit, she began to jump and speak very fast.

"Can I please, please, pleaseee come to work with you, Momma? I want to make drinks with you." Speaking so fast, neither you nor Sevika could comprehend a single word. Glancing at Sevika for a quick moment and back to the child before stopping her from jumping on the couch to avoid any possible injuries.

"Selani, remember what we both said about jumping on the couch? You could get hurt easily." Her smile dropped as she looked at Sevika, who spoke about 'the couch wasn't cheap.' Selani gave a nod in return before sitting herself down onto the couch. Both you and Sevika took Selani in after you both found her alone with nobody near; it broke your heart badly, and with not much nagging, you both quickly became her adoptive parents.

You could tell Sevika cared for her just as much as you did, catching moments between the both of them, Selani play fighting with Sevika, who obviously would go easy on the kid knowing her strength would accidentally crush or break a bone. Or whenever Sevika's arm needed to be repaired or a quick fix, Selani was standing right by her, being the best helper.

Slowly shaking your head, sitting down by Sevika once more, both of you would take Selani with you to the last drop, as you had nobody to watch over her. Thank goodness for Jinx sometimes, but you never wanted to pressure her watching over some kid, but she always proves you wrong when Selani is gone, in seconds walking away with Jinx to do whatever.

Sevika did whatever Silco wanted her to do, whether it be cleaning up one of his messes with people or looking scary behind him. But she is graced with time to herself, which is usually at the table playing poker. You'd always say her playing poker was a show just for you because you got to watch her from afar enjoying the smirk her face always held as the other players held a look of defeat.

"You lucked out, kid; none of us are going today." Sevika spoke up, breaking you out of your train of thought. Selani frowned at the news of not going out. She always wanted to be out exploring or at the last drop, whether it be with Jinx or sneaking away and somehow finding Silco and bothering him; he seemed to not mind, you hoped.

"What? Why not?!" Crossing her little arms in frustration, both of her eyebrows slanted. That is the start of a tantrum you've grown to learn from the years you took her in--not fun at all, you remembered. It took both of you time to learn how to be parents to a child, having no prior experience, though Sevika had a tiny bit from when Jinx was younger.

Sevika let out a huge sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose before looking back up at Selani. "Because we both got the day off, and you usually take those for granted, trust me, kid." Selani's gaze just stared at the both of you; confusion covered her face. The both of you never had a day off, so why now all of a sudden? Adjusting your body to sit more straight, you faced her directly, a soft smile placed on your face knowing it's good to talk to her straightforwardly with a few restrictions but to help her feel more validated and that she had your attention.

"It's a good thing not to worry, Selani; it just means me and Sevika have the whole day with you to play or cook, even just relax if you wanted." As soon as those words left your mouth, her face lit up as if she saw a whole pile of candy with a sign that said free. "Really!" A toothy grin appeared with one missing front tooth. Giving her a nod, she immediately shot up, running over to the both of you.

Once she was in front of you both, you could tell many ideas of games were filling her little mind. Taking both of your hands, making you stand. "Do you guys have any game ideas?" Selani asked, pride filled within you, teaching her to always ask her friends if they had any ideas before doing all of hers to ensure a fair game. Within a second, Sevika tapped her shoulder before dragging you away, running. "Your it!" is what you had managed to comprehend.

"That's cheating!" Selani yelled, her laugh heard behind you as you both ran. Now ending up in your shared room with Sevika, you purposely slowed down, letting Selani catch up and tap you. Quietly, you both teamed up to get Sevika and corner her. She went in the other room first, then you followed behind.

Immediately, Selani ran at Sevika, jumping on her; following Selani's actions, avoiding hitting them both, the three of you land onto the bed. Laughter could be heard throughout the whole apartment. And if it was heard by anyone, they would only think how happy you all are. This was your safe spot, where happiness is the love of your life and beloved child. 

Sevika carefully flipped Selani over the bed, and a game of play fighting began. You watched to make sure they both didn't get hurt, and to your surprise, Selani pulled the kick method. "You called what I did cheating. What you're doing is cheating!" She joked, a smile plastered on her face as she managed to get ahold of Selani.

In a moment, Selani whispered something to Sevika, and a grin grew as they both slowly turned to look at you. "Uh oh, what's going on?" With a blink of an eye, they both grabbed you, landing back onto the bed, Selani tickled you on your stomach.

Even if your laughs filled the room, your thoughts only held on how much you adored this moment and would cherish it forever.

Life for you got automatically better and brighter once they both entered your life, and you'd never trade it away.

[moonandstarshyuck]

"Always."

lando norris x gn!bf!reader

notes: I haven’t written since 2019, so bear with me. I’ve found myself thinking about a little blurb for Lando recently (actually a lot of ideas, but this one is sticking with me more than the others at the moment).

For some context, Lando’s been receiving a huge amount of hate online (and in-person) recently. I haven’t been a fan for that long—I got into F1 this summer, in 2024—but I’ve grown to care about him. I was there for Lando losing the championship, and while I think we all knew it would come to this (Max winning felt inevitable) but I’m proud of Lando for pushing so hard this entire year.

Still, with all the hate directed at him, I’m seeing a new side of him, and I’m learning that he’s a person with feelings like anyone else. I can tell he doesn’t always have the highest opinion of himself and tends to take the blame for anything that goes wrong during his races. What struck me about this is how much I relate to it. I blame myself for things out of my control or when I mess up. What sucks with Lando is that his small, human errors are what so many people focus on to criticize him—whether it’s why he didn’t win the championship or why they think he’s a bad person (which he absolutely isn’t).

The inspiration for this came from an interview he did after the Brazilian GP. At that point, everyone knew it was almost mathematically impossible for Lando to win the championship, and he talked about struggling in the aftermath: “I literally couldn’t sleep for the first two days…So I did like, what, 36-40 hours straight. So that probably made everything worse. When you’re tired, you’re more moody, and that kind of thing…I was just sat at home alone. It probably would have been better if I had been with my friends. But they don’t live in Monaco. They also have lives and are busy doing other things. And I’m a big overthinker, so like the whole flight home, the whole week, it just played over and over in my head. What could I have done differently? Why did I do that? Why did I not do this? You start thinking of all the scenarios that you kind of blame yourself for, why it’s now not possible, that kind of thing. And yeah, because I overthink and I struggle with that kind of thing, that took a bigger toll in the days after. It wasn’t an easy time.”

And I keep on finding myself wishing someone could have been there for him in person, so that he was okay. So, I wrote this. The reader in this is dating Lando but is written as a gender-neutral character that uses They/Them pronouns. The reader also has a service dog, a Bernese Mountain Dog named Thunder, to help with their own depression and anxiety (I’m not an expert on service dogs, so this many not be 100% accurate).

They woke up that early morning to the sunlight shining on their face, streaming in from the window outside. The bliss of sleep clung to them as they lay there, cocooned in warmth, the covers snug around their body. They stretched lazily, blinking their eyes open.

Instinctively, they turned to look beside them—only to find the space next to them empty. It’s too early in the morning to be anywhere else but in bed, even for training, they thought. Lando should still be here.

The realization pulled them out of their sleepy haze. The past couple of days had been not kind to Lando. They knew that he had a tendency to keep his feelings bottled up and beat himself up over his perceived failures. They understood that feeling all too well—the guilt, the constant sense of disappointment, the nagging thought that were never good enough. They had wrestled with those feelings since they were a child.

It wasn’t something that had an easy fix. If they had found the answer, they would have shared it with Lando years ago. But they had learned that the best way to fight those thoughts wasn’t isolation. Talking to someone, writing feelings down, even simple positive affirmations—thought they might sound silly—could help push back against the negative spiral. They had told Lando this countless times.

But Lando had a problem with not wanting to “inconvenience” anyone with his emotions. No matter how many times they reassured him that they were always there for him, he struggled to let himself. They didn’t blame him—it was human to struggle against your own mind.

What made everything worse was the constant online hate. Every little mistake or sarcastic comment from Lando seemed to turn into an avalanche of criticism. They remembered the first time they’d seen him like a hateful comment about himself on Instagram—the little heart next to a cruel statement, paired with note: “Creator liked this.” It had broken their heart. How could the Lando they loved ever believe such awful things about himself?

After Brazil, it had been clear that he wasn’t okay. He’d barely spoken since coming home, choosing instead to himself. They had given him space, hoping he’d find a way to process his feelings. But by the second morning, when he still hadn’t come to bed—almost forty hours after returning home—they knew they couldn’t stand by any longer.

That morning, they rose slowly from the bed, a plan beginning to form in their mind. Lanod needed someone to step in—someone to remind him he didn’t have to face his struggles alone. They were determined to be that person for him.  They couldn’t take it anymore, seeing the person they loved so badly, punishing himself over his ‘failures.’

The first step was to confirm where he was. Grabbing their phone, they opened Twitch and navigated to Max’s stream. After a few moments of watching, they heard Lando’s voice—tired, strained, but unmistakably his. He was joking with Max, his words clipped, like he was holding himself together with sheer willpower. It was enough to break their heart. They opened their messages with Max.

Thunder's Owner

Lan’s streaming with you rn?

Sent at 7:48 AM.

After a few seconds, Max replied.

Maximilian

Yeah he’s on voice-only.

Sent at 7:50 AM.

Gonna do something about him?

Sent at 7:50 AM.

Max knew. Of course he did. He probably heard the exhaustion in Lando’s voice, the edge self-loathing that came with overthinking. They typed back quickly:

Thunder's Owner

Yeah

Sent 7:52 AM.

Going to unplug his setup and drag him out of there.

Sent 7:52 AM.

Maximilian

Lol.

Sent 7:52 AM.

I’ll keep an eye out for when he disappears.

Sent 7:53 AM.

Thunder's Owner

Thx

Sent 7:54 AM.

They quietly made their way to Lando’s gaming room and eased the door open. Lando sat at his desk, controller in hand, headset clamped over messy curls.  He looked worn down, his shoulders slumped as he focused on the screen. His voice through, muted put playful, as he bantered with Max.

For a moment, they just watched him. Even now, he was handsome, but the tiredness in his expression made their chest ache. He deserved rest. He deserved to feel okay. And he wasn’t going to get that by sitting here punishing himself.

As soon as Lando died in-game and leaned back in his chair, they seized the opportunity. They crossed the room, catching his attention when they came into view.

“Why’re you—” Lando began, frowning, but they didn’t let him finish. Reaching down, they unplugged everything from the wall.

“What the hell—” he exclaimed, spinning around in his chair.

“No,” they said firmly, cutting him off. “I’m not you hurt yourself anymore. Get up.”

Lando blinked, clearly taken aback. “You can’t just do that!” he protested, but they were already tugging gently at him arm, urging him out of his chair.

“Angel, what are you—”

“No,” they repeated, their voice steady. “Get up,”

Lando hesitated for a moment before letting out a resigned sigh and standing. They took his hand, leading him out of the gaming room and down the hall to the living room. He didn’t resist, but he followed like a man in a daze. Once they reached the couch, they turned to him. “Sit,” they said, pointing at the cushions. Lando raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to argue, but they shook their head. “Stay.”

They turned to Thunder, who had been waiting for them in the hallway, and told him, “Thunder, guard,” while pointing at Lando.

The dog immediately moved into position, standing alert in front of the couch. Lando’s eyes widened slightly as Thunder fixed him with an unblinking stare. He shifted as if to get up, but Thunder’s stance didn’t waver.

“Jeez, I wasn’t going to get up,” he mumbled to Thunder, but Thunder just sat there and watched him until he fully relaxed back into the couch.

The thought ran through Lando’s head, how he had honestly forgotten how menacing his own dog could look. He knew Thunder was trained, saw reminders of it daily with how he interacted with his partner, but he was still shocked at how trained Thunder really was at that moment.

Thunder was still staring at him when he pulled out his phone from his pocket, opening up his texts with Max.

LN

I was just dragged out of my gaming room and told to sit on the couch and like a dog.

Sent at 8:05 AM.

Not against it, but how tf did they get so determined?

Sent at 8:05 AM.

Thunder’s watching me right now.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

I forgot how menacing he could be.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

*Picture attached.*

Lol.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

Max (The 1st One)

He’s like ‘try me, I dare you’

Sent at 8:06 AM.

LN

Yeah, I don’t particularly want to try him

Sent at 8:07 AM.

Max (The 1st One)

Lol.

Sent at 8:07 AM.

They told me before they did it

Sent at 8:07 AM.

I just let them. Lol.

Sent at 8:07 AM.

LN

Helpful. What if they were trying to  kill me?

Sent at 8:08 AM.

They wouldn’t have had to if you kept doing what you were doing.

Sent at 8:09 AM.

Lando’s let out a quiet sigh, Max’s words sinking in. He glanced at Thunder, who hadn’t moved, and felt a pang of guilt. He’d pushed himself too far again, and this time it had clearly worried his partner.

A few minutes later, his partner walked back into their living room. He thought they looked beautiful, wearing one of his old t-shirts and a pair of boxers. They were entirely focused on the bowl they were carrying, and only looked up when they got close enough to hand it to him. He gently took the bowl, looked into it and saw it was one of his prep meals. While not his favorite breakfast, he knew he just needed to eat first, so he started taking bites.

He glanced up every so often, and each time he did, his partner was just sitting there and watching him eat. Lando almost chuckled at his own thought that they looked just like Thunder when watching him, and he smiled into his bowl at the thought. His partner didn’t see his smile, but he continued to eat until he had finished the bowl.

When he was done eating, he set the bowl down, and his partner again pulled him up by the crook of his arm. He just let them do so, having a thought of what was going to happen next.

His partner led them both down the hallway to their bedroom, and opened the door, leading him to sit on their bed, then they turned around and went to close their blinds and draw their black-out curtains to cover up the sunlight from the window. They had turned on their bedside lamp earlier, and the soft orange glow of the lamp permeated the room. They walked past him again, going to close the door after letting Thunder in, then they walked back to their side of the bed, and pulled him to lie down against them.

As he settled against their chest, he felt a bit odd, it being a bit of a difference to feel how much he was loved by them. How much they cared for him. And he finally spoke again, “Thank you.”

“Always, Lan. Always.” They replied, pressing a kiss to his hair.

And for the first time in days, he let himself sleep.

author's note: got inspired to actually write something for once...ty @koalapastries for the inspiration (unknowing inspiration but ty) (also sorry for using your layout outline

comments & reblogs appreciated

and i made the dividers :)

[lostintransist]

Secrets Are For Grown Ups | Part 3

CW: Paperwork. I hate paperwork.

Shout out to the fabulous @xbirdiex. It's better than reading my words for the first time because she is so good at articulting to me how everything makes her feel.

Part 1 here.

John pulled off his glasses before rubbing his eyes so hard the kaleidoscope of colors blurred his vision for seconds after he blinked to clear them. He needed to retire. The years of being trapped at a desk and only let out for training had sapped him of the will to continue. He had given the greater good all that he could, but if one more file got sent to him as half digital half paper copy he would start launching things out the window or possibly set his office ablaze.

He had stayed longer than he should have again but the frozen dish of lasagna and beer at his flat did not entice him home. The trill of his ringing phone pulled him from his languorous thoughts. Number hadn’t been saved in his phone. Odd. The same tickle in his brain that saved him on countless missions twitched now. Answering it in silence he waited.

“Is this Captain Price?”

“Not a captain anymore, but this is Price. May I ask who is calling?”

The woman on the other end blew out a breath.

“I worked with you several years back on a visa from the US. I’m not sure if you remember me,” her tone indicated a question as she searched for more words.

John could only remember one such woman in his time as a captain. You popped into his mind in technicolor.

“I do remember. I haven’t heard from you since you left for your family emergency. Has something come up?”

He swore he could feel you vacillating on the other end of the line. You had been so painfully expressive in your communications the year you had worked for him. For you to call out of the blue after so many years, something had to be wrong.

“Yes. You could say that.” You blow out a slow breath before continuing. “This is a…a bit of a long story. Do you have a moment?”

Settling back into his office chair with a creak John gets more comfortable.

“For you, I can take all day.”

Leave had been approved fairly quickly. John had an overabundance of it that brass and the HR and accounting teams hounded him about taking. They all claimed it made their jobs harder if he let it build up so high. He could take off six months without putting a dent in his overall amount of leave. Also if he weren’t there to bitch about the paperwork brass would more likely pass it off to someone else.

Last-minute flights were a pain in the ass to schedule as well as to pay for but like everything else in his life money tended to pile up because he rarely had time to spend it. John packed the same way he would for a long mission, though this time he packed his good underwear. You had offered to let him stay with you after he provided the contact information for one Nyla MacTavish.

His phone rang as he zipped up his large suitcase. Glancing at the name John wished he had a cigar to add a hint of nicotine-laced clarity to his thoughts. Flicking open his phone with a thumb John lifted it to his ear.

“Been expecting your call.”

“That’s never a good way to start a conversation, John.”

“I agree. Now tell me what happened?”

“Did you know?” The quiet, pained question could bore through bone. Simon, one of his muppets, his strongest men, sounded on the point of tears.

“Not until a few hours ago,” pinching the phone between his ear and his shoulder John settled his wheeled luggage on the floor.

“Good,” Simon repeated it to himself as if confirming his belief in John stood strong. “I had to dose Johnny with part of an edible he didn’t know we had in the house. He wanted to break down her door for answers.”

The idea of Simon handing Johnny an innocuous candy or baked good to dose him into a stupor that wouldn’t lead to criminal charges caught John as funny.

“I think your husband is going to have something to say about that in the morning.”

Simon snorted, “Knowing him he is going to have a lot more than a single thing to say.”

“Mmm, you might be right.” John paused to lock his flat door behind him. “Give me twenty-four hours Simon. I am headed to the airport right now and out to you.”

“Did she invite you or are you coming to keep us in line?” Simon’s voice edged into Ghost territory.

“For your information, I was invited,” John replied, mock offended.

“You would have come anyway.”

John could hear the rolling of his eyes even across the line.

“Yes, but this way I get to meet your boys and don’t have to pay for a hotel.”

Simon sucked in a breath.

“Boys? We thought she had a boy and a girl.”

“Nope, she clearly referred to them as the boys or her boys.”

A wet cough cleared the phone line.

“Okay. Let us know when we can meet with her and discuss this all.” Simon sounded defeated, unmoored.

“Are you wanting her back?” John asked carefully as he stepped onto the street to wait for his cab.

“Not…not like before. Johnny and I are happy as we are, but if the boys are either of ours we both want to be involved. We deserve that much.”

John didn’t know if the word deserved had any place in this sticky of a situation but he let it slide. That would be for you to explain.

“I will see you in a day or so, Simon. Keep your husband on a short leash until I get there. We both know explosions from Johnny weren’t only from bombs.”

A light chuckle from Simon is the only warning before the call ends. John sighs through his nose as he tucks his phone away.

What a hell of a story this would turn out to be.

Secrets Masterlist | Masterlist

@love-kha1 @bdbdhshhs @persephone-kore-law @vmaxis @splaterparty0-0 @momowhoo @talia-the-gemini @redkarmakai @aethelwyneleigh27 @asexualbuthorny

[myownwholewildworld]

iv. two inches - acta, non verba

chapter 3 | series masterlist | ao3 pairing: conqueror!marcus acacius x ofc!reader. summary: will the stars finally align so you can have who you want? a/n: hiii! sorry it's taken me a month to update 🥲 after watching gladiator ii, i knew i had to come back to these two asap. as always, all interactions welcome, i do appreciate you liking, sharing and/or commenting! take care 💖 warnings (spoilers): 18+, mdni. smut incoming. sexual tension galore. marcus jerks off to the thought of you. kissing. breast worship. mentions of past sexual trauma/marital abuse. the tip goes in. misogynistic views. infidelity. dialogue in italics means it’s spoken in gaelic (unless stated otherwise, i.e. latin). marcus is 49, ofc!reader (callie) is 26. w/c: ~8.4k. dividers by @\saradika-graphics taglist at the end (let me know if you want to be added/removed please!)

Niamh’s appearance had startled you, bringing you back to reality. For a second you had let yourself rejoice in the moment, in having Marcus—quite literally—on the palm of your hand. You had not intended on it going so far; on grabbing his manhood with resolution and pumping him with delight. His hardening dick had been so hard to ignore, you just gave in to temptation.

His initial reticence to not be touched was what had spurred you on. Marcus had attempted to reject your advances, although unsuccessfully. Him turning you down only encouraged you more, wanting to prove to him how badly he desired you, even if he tried to conceal his lust.

The sooner he realised he wanted you, the faster your plan would move along.

And by the Gods did he realise, his steely cock living proof of his appetite for you.

What you had not expected though was your own body’s reaction to Marcus’ undeniable desire. Your pussy had been gushing all along, each stroke on his girth unravelling something within you — especially when you hinted at the idea of slotting his cock between your lips to suckle on him. That simple thought sent a warm wave down your spine, your folds wetting almost instantly. In fact, you could still feel the dampness your thighs were harbouring for him.

And it was all part of your scheme, anyway. Eventually you planned on it happening — sooner rather than later, preferably. If you experienced a few orgasms thanks to him in the process… well, even better. The trash sex Iain had subjugated you to for a decade was the only thing you had known in the bedchamber — not once did you climax, yet many a times—if not always—you wailed in pain. Considering how your flesh had reacted to Marcus, perhaps the General would be useful in more than one way to you.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you glanced at him over your shoulder — a quick peek through your lashes, your teeth nibbling on your bottom lip.

You were riding together on his horse, his arms tight around your shoulders pinning you in place. His bulge was pressing against the soft curve of your ass — no wonder your pussy was still laced with slick.

Knowing Marcus was in hell right now, you wiggled your hips back, the plumpness of your buttocks nuzzling his swollen groin. The General swallowed a groan, his arms tighter around your shoulders, and you smirked to yourself, feeling his erection hard pressed against you. Marcus had found no relief since Naimh interrupted you both and was still at full mast. And understanding that caused your insides to melt.

Truth be told, you would have liked to finish what you started. Not for his sake, but for your own. Making him come in your mouth would have partially put out the hellfire that burnt inside you, wreaking havoc in your seam.

The animosity between Marcus and Maximus shimmered in the atmosphere.

The Commander had only brought his own horse and yours had deserted you, which meant that, if you were to come back, you had to choose between the two Romans. Maximus had gracefully offered you to ride with him, and the mischievous sideways look he shot in Marcus’ direction didn’t escape you.

But before you could accept or decline, Marcus had mumbled something under his breath before ordering you to ride with him. Maximus was delighted with the whole exchange, and you understood that the Commander was actually teasing the General.

A little possessiveness wouldn’t hurt. It meant you were stirring Marcus in the right direction — yours.

You ventured another sneaky look at Acacius, your curiosity concealed by the cover provided by the trees.

His lips pursed in frustration, but his eyes distilled exhaustion. Marcus had lost enough blood to put a man to sleep for a week, but here he was, standing and conscious, away from Dhuosnos’ realm.

You had made sure of that, not only by mending his wounds, but also by killing one of the attackers. That ambush had left a crawling suspicion in the back of your mind, bothering and nagging. There was something weird about it all but couldn’t pinpoint exactly what.

Maximus spoke, filling the silence and voicing your inkling.

“And you’re sure you didn’t recognise them, General?”

Marcus slowly shook his head again, his chest rubbing your back with the motion.

“No. They spoke that barb— uhm, the local language,” he muttered, briefly looking at you sideways, almost apologetic.

You knew how the original sentence was going to finish: that barbaric language. A reminder of who he was after all—your enemy. You shouldn’t lose sight of that, of the true purpose of your actions.

It felt wrong, how your lust awakened for none other than your enemy. Yes, you intended on bedding him, but your previous thought of getting Marcus to make you come now angered you. Your arousal felt like a betrayal to the memory of your family. You shouldn’t wet at the idea of fucking him — if anything, you should feel disgusted of your own reaction.

Straightening your back, you just rolled your eyes with disdain, letting him know of your annoyance.

“I’ll ask around, see what I can find out,” Maximus thought out loud, then glanced at you through the darkness. “Did you recognise any of them? Their accent?”

Slowly shaking your head, you grasped the saddle’s horn.

“No, I didn’t. I’m not sure they were from around here,” you explained, wondering if you were saying too much.

They hadn’t recognised you, which showed they were not your clansmen. But they were pretending to be.

You went quiet, your frown deepening.

“What’s bothering you, my lady?” Marcus’ breath caressed your ear, your skin bristling instantly.

“Nothing,” you replied quickly.

Too quickly.

“I’m sorry you had to defend yourself,” he whispered, his husky voice low so only you could hear him. “I should have paid more attention. I won’t let it happen again.”

Suddenly you realised he thought this was your first time killing someone. Little did he know, you probably had reaped as many souls as he had. You were no stranger to the battlefield — your father had taught all his children how to wield a sword, how to take a life. You learnt how to detach your soul from your body whenever someone’s life was cut short in order to preserve part of your humanity. It was the only way you could live with yourself, because it didn’t matter if they deserved it or not, it still gnawed at your conscience at night.

Marcus, on the contrary, seemed to be oblivious to how much pain his killing had caused. Had caused you.

Another reminder.

But then you realised what he had said. He wouldn’t let it happen again — a fissure in his impassiveness. Was he starting to care about you?

So you played on his protectiveness, on his words. Pouting lips, doe eyes and all, you nodded.

“I… I just wanted to protect you, Dominus. I was afraid he would hurt you,” you mumbled back, faking your fear for him.

The decade with Iain was paying off after all. To survive by your late husband’s side, you had to master the ability of make-believe, to pretend you were feeling ways you truly weren’t — afraid, amused, sad, happy, distraught, content. You had acquired the skills to feign a whole range of emotions, and this would be useful with the General.

He bought it.

“Don’t worry about me, Callie,” his voice was but a whisper, but that wasn’t what distracted you.

His broad—massive actually—right hand had landed on your right knee, squeezing it lightly, as if to soothe you; your suffering for having killed a man. His touch was light and brief, but long enough to leave goosebumps in his wake.

You were not sure which one of you were more taken aback — him because of his sudden show of worry, or you because of how that had made you feel.

“But I appreciate what you did back there,” he quickly added, clearing his throat, both of his hands gripping the leather reins.

“I would do it all over again, Dux Meus. For you.”

Perhaps you were buying it too.

Nay, can’t be.

The whole ride back to Inbhir Nis castle was literal torture. A tempting nymph on his lap, warm and inviting, was the last thing Marcus needed to worry about.

But instead of the last, you had become the first on a never-ending list of concerns. Curbing his desire for you had been a herculean task, one he did not accomplish. Because as soon as the door to his chambers closed behind him, he stripped himself of all his clothing.

The moment the jail of his armour was gone, freed from its heaviness and tight grip, Marcus sighed, just finding a miniscule relief.

The erection that you provoked him was as hard as a couple of hours ago, shaft throbbing against his happy trail. It had been at least two hours since you had worked him to this state of unsatisfied lewdness and now it was just damn uncomfortable to be at full mast.

A warm bath was awaiting him, and Marcus only took a second to dive in. The hot, milky water was welcoming, soothing his strained muscles. There were herbs floating around — rosemary, lavender and thyme, at least the ones his sense of smell recognised.

A scent that had hit him before, when he encountered you getting out of the garderobe a few weeks ago. Why did that aroma remind him of you? Why would you just not leave his mind? This thought of you lingering was dangerous, distracting. But so fucking alluring too — there was something about you, the mischievous aura you exuded, that reeled Marcus in.

It was intoxicating, really. No, you were intoxicating. And he just wanted to drown in it, in you.

Marcus grunted in frustration, one hand sinking under the water to find his heavy balls and massage them gently. His head tilted back, resting on the edge of the wooden bathtub, and his eyes squeezed shut when his imagination took him back to the moment you wielded his cock.

Now that the haze of his fainting had lifted, he should have shown himself some self-restraint to stop whatever this was. But he couldn’t, the memory of your tight grip too unravelling, too compelling.

So, in the privacy and safety of his bedchamber, he gave in to temptation. A last squeeze on his full testicles and then he was pumping his thudding dick to the thought of you doing exactly the same. His hand was your hand, and that was everything Marcus needed.

His thumb pressed on the slit, just as you had done. Then the bobbing of his hand picked up a faster rhythm, his free hand drifting down to hold his balls again, and Marcus jerked himself off while he envisaged you sealing your lips around his plump head, just as you had teased.

That was his undoing — you suckling on him, milking him dry with your mouth. Marcus could envision it perfectly: on your fours between his hairy, thick thighs, hand twisting on the base of his shaft while you sucked in his mushroom head, dick pulsing hard for you. And you glancing up at him with those green orbs — full, hypnotising eye contact, almost too intimate.

A few more strokes on his cock, imagination running wild, and he finally came. His breathing hitched and accelerated, becoming irregular, as his fist clutched harder around his girth. Spurts of white, tacky robes left his slit, his glans just peeking out of the water, and landed on his chest.

It took Marcus a couple of minutes to come down from his high. This was a new low for him, having to masturbate himself to the thought of someone because he was too horny to let it go. Too proud to ask you to finish what you had started. Too loyal to his cheating wife.

The last thought annoyed him, not wanting to think about Livia at this precise moment. He resented her, probably more than what he should. But her betrayal stung like fire licking on his skin, their holy matrimony reduced to a farce. For all he knew, he did not have any children of his own blood now. Marcus loved them equally though, but it still gnawed at him that he had been raising the children of another man unknowingly.

The life he had carefully built seemed to have crush down to its foundations. Marcus truly did not know what to expect upon his return. He had left abruptly, called by the Emperor and Agricola, with no time to discuss his family life with his wife. He didn’t think he could just go back to normal, not after what had emerged.

Being out here in the wild Caledonia, Marcus felt his life on hold, postponing the inevitable. But he couldn’t think about that now, not when he had so many tasks ahead of him.

Absentmindedly, Marcus cupped some water and washed the cum off his chest, watching it swirl around in the tub.

A knock, then the creak of the door as it opened.

His heart jumped and he quickly sat back up in the bathtub, water splashing as he did. He had forgotten to put on the latch.

He hoped to hell it was Atticus, at least.

“Dux Meus?”

Wrong, fucking wrong.

Had he thought of you so hard that he had willed your presence?

Your profile peeked through the crack in the doorframe.

“Can I come in, General?”

Your ask was a mere formality, because before he could say anything, you had already entered the room and closed the door behind you.

Marcus’ back straightened, his relaxed muscles tautening again in your presence. Could he have no moment of respite, when he would not be haunted by bewildering scents and suggestive lips?

For a brief second, Marcus watched you look around, taking in the details of the room. A big, four poster bed with translucent veils hanging from every side; the matching oak furniture; the vivid, colourful tapestries on the bare stone walls telling stories he never heard of; a wonky standing shelf with a small library, books he had flicked through at candlelight before bed; the rudimentary chimney where a fire burnt and crackled.

Because even in spring, the thick walls of the castle kept a cool atmosphere inside. The pyre warmed up the room, but Marcus thought the temperature shot up the moment you stepped closer to where he was.

“What are you doing here?” his question sounded almost accusatory, his fingers gripping the edges of the tub, knuckles whitening.

His wary demeanour didn’t put you off, light feet closing the distance with a smirk.

As you approached, Marcus couldn’t help but marvel at the sight of you. Your green skirt flowed around you, hugging your voluptuous hourglass figure in all the right places. Your red hair framed your delicate features, freckles dotted around your nose and cheeks on your moonlight skin. Cherry lips as plump as figs, reddened and curled up. Some flickering green eyes as fiery as the orange sparks in the flue stared at him with unknown intent. A marble neck that led the path to the esplanade of your collarbone, and then, right underneath…

His mouth watered, and his cock inevitably pulsed again. Your full breasts almost spilt over the low squared neckline of your dress, like sunny hills welcoming him home. Pebbled nipples greeting him. A deep cleavage so inviting, he could imagine pumping himself in between them, his glans just peeking through and kissing the center of your clavicle.

Another twitch in his groin made him steel himself and drawing a deep breath in to calm himself.

You crouched down, squatting right beside the bathtub, and placed one soft hand over his.

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright, Dux Meus. That your wounds were not bleeding, and the stitches were holding up,” the concern tinting your voice felt real to him.

Marcus cleared his throat, tense.

“They’re all fine. My healer certainly knew what she was going,” he conceded, then remembered. “Except for the blunt tip of the needle. That I did not appreciate.”

You laughed and patted his hand a few times in jest.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure an acclaimed General like yourself can withstand a little bit of pain, Dominus,” you joked, long eyelashes batting at him. “But for that I am sorry, I had to work with what Naimh had at hand.”

“Thank you. For saving my life twice,” he whispered, almost solemnly. “I am indebted to you, Callie.”

You waved a hand to dismiss his gratitude, gifting him a crooked smile that quickly reached your eyes.

“You killed two men. I think we are even, Dux Meus,” you muttered back, a low, wicked husk that knocked him off his senses momentarily.

With the smile still painted on your round lips, your eyes slowly drifted down his chest. The milky water was murky enough so you wouldn’t see through it, wouldn’t see how hard he was getting again.

And then you bit and licked your lips, the grin almost fading as a darker, sensual expression transformed your face — a mesmerising gesture that forced Marcus to follow your sight. Then he saw what had caught your attention: his cum floating around, gathering around the herbs that scented the now lukewarm water.

A moment of silence stretched between you, his heart racing up as your gaze lingered on the water, as if you were hoping for his erection to peep its head out above it.

Your fingers reached down into the water; palm cupped to trap some of his wasted seed. It filtered through your fingers until it all fell back into the bath water. Swirling your fingers around, you grabbed a tiny bunch of rosemary, dragging it across the water until the small leaves caressed the exposed skin of his chest.

The summit of your tongue licking your bottom lip as your eyes locked intimately.

So fucking suggestive, Marcus’ breath hitched, close to losing his mind.

“Marcus,” you cooed, your wet fingers dropping the rosemary and lifting up.

Your hand slid to his, wrapping around his wrist, a warm touch that spiked his heart rate.

A thunder crawled under his skin the moment you guided his hand over to your bosom. You squeezed his hand, smoothing it over your lush left breast. He couldn’t help but cradle it, feeling the taut nipple grazing the thin fabric, rubbing his palm.

“Please,” you almost sobbed, moving his hand in circles over your boob.

To hell with everything. He shouldn’t let himself be distracted by the pleasures of the flesh during such an important campaign, but Marcus wanted you so badly — his new erection living proof of the desire that burnt for you.

Just one time, to satiate the caprice, and then he could go back to his duties.

Your mouth was agape, beckoning like a siren. And as he was about to relinquish to the temptation you offered, leaning forward, another knock on the door swept the moment away.

“Dominus, Commander Maximus necessitates your presence immediately,” Atticus forewarned him before his steps faded in the distance of the hallway.

Perhaps you despised Atticus more than you hated Marcus, and that was a feat to beat.

The universe was intent on your plan not taking form at all, otherwise you could not explain all these fucking interruptions. Another person might have taken the hint, but not you. Stubborn as a mule, you would not stop at anything — Marcus would fall in your tangled web, whatever the cost.

You only needed to remember to keep a cool head. Among the hatred, pleasure shimmered, and it certainly bothered you. How your body had a mind of its own and responded to his obvious desire, damp fold hidden away between your thighs.

It’s just an act, you reminded yourself.

But as much as you tried to convince yourself, your drenched pussy agreed to disagree.

Huffing and puffing, you went down the spiral staircase and sauntered towards the kitchens. You were in dire need of some light-hearted jest, and the old cook would help take your mind off things with his banter.

Cormag wasn’t there, just Isla and Brighid shuffling around the hearth, keeping it alive. The smoky smell filled the room, almost suffocating, and you coughed.

“That chimney is close to getting clogged,” you managed to say, clearing your throat. “Should put the fire out and get one of the helping lads to go in there and clean it out.”

Isla turned around, her head bowing down as a quick curtsy. They all really needed to stop doing that, even when no Romans were around.

“We can’t do that yet, mo bana-phrionnsa (my princess)”, she replied, her hands busy kneading the flour on the counter. “Apparently there is a feast to be had tomorrow, one of the Romans’ birthdays. We’ve been asked to start the preparations for it, so will have to pull an all-nighter…”

Brighid voiced her discontent, crouched down by the fire, feeding it some logs.

“I don’t understand why we are wasting so much food on them. My family’s starving, we barely have any bread left, and these cu…” she quickly looked at you, embarrassed, but you nodded, encouraging, “these cunts eat like gluttons. Last night you were not here, my lady, but some of them even started throwing the food around at one another. Disgraceful.”

“Aye,” Isla agreed. “I had to pick up some unspoilt veggies off the floor. My nan has not had anything to eat for the last two days, she was worried that my siblings and I wouldn’t have enough to eat.”

Their struggles broke your heart. Not only because they were your clan, but because of the injustice of it all. No person should go to bed hungry, and these undesirable guests were forcing people to go without a meal.

You knew both of the maids, their families. Brighid’s son was three and had started to talk; her husband had returned with you from Raedykes and now was an amputee, trying to find a job to provide for his family. Isla’s parents had perished during the battle of Mons Graupius too, serving your father till their final days.

It was frustrating, but it was even more infuriating. Your hands were tied, and you could not wait to break free of your tethers. You looked forward to the moment this all would be over, that you could face a defeated Marcus Acacius and impart upon him the same misfortune he and his people left in their wake.

You stayed with them a little longer, helping out where they needed you to. A couple of hours later, tired and in need of your niece and nephew’s hug, you were flying by the hallways of the keep, heading back to your aunt Bonnie’s crannog, when male voices stopped you in your tracks.

The door to the great hall was ajar, Maximus’ raspy tone filtering through.

“Cassius’ henchman and some of his men went back to the spot where you were attacked. There were patches of blood on the grass, but the bodies were gone,” the Commander husked. “I find it weird, honestly.”

“So do I,” Marcus agreed. “I didn’t want to say it before, but one of them spoke in Latin to me. His accent was… definitely Roman.”

“That makes no sense,” Maximus replied, their voices clearer now. “What did he say to you?”

“Just ‘Die, bastard’. That was all, but I could tell he was fluent.”

“Leave it to me, I’ll see what I can find out.”

Heavy steps approached, and you knew they were close.

Picking up your skirt, you ran down the corridor, mixing with the shadows until darkness wrapped around you.

“What were you fucking thinking, Callie? You could’ve gotten killed!”

Torcall was not impressed with your outing, to say the least.

You rolled your eyes at him, arms folded. You shouldn’t have explained why you had been missing for so many hours, but you were not one to lie to your allies. Especially if they were family.

“I didn’t have a choice, Torcall. He saw me leaving and decided to accompany me. What should I have done? Tell him his gallantry was no longer needed because I decided not to go? That would have been so suspicious,” you reasoned, your own anger flaring. “And I was in no real danger, anyway. They were Caledonians.”

You downplayed that on purpose. They were Caledonians, aye, but they were really intent on killing you. You were still ruminating on that detail.

“And you killed one of them. For him. To protect the fucking General of Rome,” Torcall barked, teeth clenching. “Why didn’t you let them finish him? All of our problems would be over.”

His accusation, although deserved, enraged you. Even more so because you had thought exactly the same thing, and still decided to defend him.

“You’re so short-sighted, seriously. If I did, his entire army would have come hunt me down, ye eejit (idiot)!” You stood up, the legs of the chair screeching against the cobblestone. “Half of the castle saw us leaving together, I would’ve been the first one they suspected. And you know they tend to kill first and ask questions later.”

Torcall scoffed, fury distorting his features. But then a change of demeanour: he got up too and closed the distance between you two. For a moment he doubted, and then his arms wrapped around you, hugging you close to his chest.

The sudden proximity made you feel weird. Uncomfortable.

“I was just worried for you, Callie,” Torcall mumbled, his breath fanning over your ear. He leaned back, his hands lingering on your shoulders. “You’re like family to me. To my children.”

The intensity his eyes distilled caught you off guard. They were soft and pleading now, all his anger forgotten. And then they drifted down, landing on your mouth.

The whole atmosphere shifted, your heart beating wildly. Surely this all felt wrong to the both of you.

“You are family, Torcall,” you remarked. “You’re my sister’s husband, that’s actual family, not ‘like’ family.”

Your words carried meaning, and more than meaning — a subtle warning. A reminder too, of who he was and who you were to him. He shouldn’t forget himself. Torcall was your brother-in-law, and although pain had brought you closer these past weeks, it meant nothing more than that.

At least to you.

Torcall cleared his throat, his arms falling slack to his sides.

“Aye, I guess we are,” he sighed, pinched the bridge of his perfectly straight nose, and sat back down on the chair. “So, were they our brethren? You said they were Caledonians.”

You were relieved at the change of subject, the tension between you fading.

Nodding, you sat too.

“Aye, although their accent was not really from around here. But Acacius seemed to think they were Romans,” you added, your fingers drumming on the wooden table between you. “Think he’s wrong though, you can’t fake an accent like ours so easily. Do you reckon it’s got something to do with the attempt on the General’s life a few days ago?”

Torcall seemed to take a moment, contemplating his answer before he spoke. His eyes flickered for a second, his pupils a well full of doubts, something you thought odd.

“I don’t think so. They were just lads, highly doubt they could pull something like that off,” he commented, almost cautiously.

You frowned, eyes slightly squinting.

“They could be part of a larger group. You said so yourself, people don’t listen to reason when they feel threatened. Perhaps some of them have decided to take justice into their own hands. I never got a chance to speak to my cousins yesterday—”

“I did,” Torcall cut you off.

The wrinkles between your brows deepened.

“You did? You went to Bun Craobh?”

“Aye, had some errands to run,” he didn’t add any further explanation to that. “Ran into them and told them about your plan when I realised you hadn’t spoken to them yet.”

“That wasn’t for you to do, Torcall,” you replied, mildly infuriated at him for taking the liberty to do so. “What the hell did you tell them?”

“Nothing in too much detail, mainly because they’d try to talk you out of it the same way I did,” there was a note of reproach in his voice, one you decidedly ignored. “Just that you were planning on spying on the General to get details of their next steps.”

How you got to Marcus was none of his fucking business. Now you questioned whether you should have shared that information with Torcall or not, if he was going to fucking judge you at every step of the way. What you did and how you got what you wanted was entirely up to you. You hadn’t broken free from Iain to fall under the controlling hands of another man.

“Tiugainn (come on), Callie. I just told them enough so the word would spread that Murdoch’s only living daughter is planning on fighting back. Give the people a reason to hope,” he pleaded, sensing your anger.

“Aye, but next time, ask me. I don’t appreciate you bypassing me in these matters, not when I’ve got enough enemies at my doorstep.”

Marcus did not like all this unwanted attention. He was adamant this had been one of Maximus’ jokes, just to get on his nerves.

The General did not like celebrating his birthday. In fact, hated it. His wife would throw lavish parties back at home, wasting gold on unnecessary decorations and gifts — Livia would use any excuse to show off how full their vault was. Having made himself from nothing, Marcus understood how hard he had to work for each and every denarius to his name.

His most trusted Commander knew this and ignored it completely. He had mobilised the people of the castle to prepare a feast, food filling tables and wine spilling out of goblets in celebration. A fire had been lit in the big chimney presiding the great hall, white flower arrangements hung from the stone walls. There was even music being played in the background, the soft sounds of the lyre accompanied by a female voice who sang in Latin and praised all his conquests.

And what angered him most: there was a good handful of meretrices (prostitutes) lingering around. Most of them were local freedwomen, but others were slaves that Agricola’s men had brought with them. Marcus had not allowed his own army to bring any woman into this new land, needing them focused on the task ahead. Agricola was, on the other hand, very lenient in that respect — encouraging almost.

“How are you this beautiful afternoon, Dominus?” A sensual hum whispered in his ear tightened his muscles uncomfortably.

Looking over his shoulder, Marcus saw the blonde woman who had been eyeing him for a while. She was wearing a white toga, obviously one of the Roman slaves brought from overseas.

Unrequited, she sat on his lap, her round butt cheeks kneading his soft bulge, while one of her arms wrapped around his neck.

“Would you like a taste?” she asked with a bright smile, bringing a cup to his lips.

Marcus shook his head no, one hand stopping the chalice from getting closer.

“No, thank you. And I rather be left alone,” he told the prostitute, rejecting her advances flatly.

She just laughed, putting the goblet back down on the table. Then she leaned forward, her lips brushing the artery on his neck.

“Oh, we don’t really need to play this game, Master,” she whispered in his ear.

Unbothered by the suggestive talk and her pressing onto his lap, Marcus swept the great hall, a burning sensation in his chest commending him to.

Your eyes locked through the observing crowd. The green orbs that stared him down were filled with playfulness. Suddenly, that sensual wickedness transformed into brief anger, then disappointment.

It took Marcus a second to understand why you seemed upset. He had forgotten about the prostitute sitting on his lap, talking his ear off.

You stiffed, chin lifted up with disdain, and turned around with a wooden jug on your hands.

Fuck. Wait, no. It’s not what it seems, he wanted to say.

Marcus tried to get up, almost throwing the woman to the ground in his haste to get to you.

“I won’t require your services,” he politely declined when she looked at him in surprise.

“Oh…” her disappointment was visible, but it wasn’t the one he cared to soothe.

“Don’t worry, love, come here. The General seems in a hurry to leave. Some important matters, I wager,” Maximus extended his arm towards the blonde woman, inviting her onto his lap.

The sneering look Marcus threw Maximus’ way did not go unnoticed, his Commander laughing it off.

Ignoring him, he quickly walked off the dais, following your trail among the crowd. Your fiery red hair was like a beacon, one he followed to the main doors. A second later he was in the hallway and looked around, just in time to see you disappearing into the garderobe storing the wine.

Why he was following you, he was not sure. Why he needed to put your mind at ease, he was not sure either. All he knew was that the crushed expression you had given him stirred something within him.

In a few strides, he was right behind you, his hand holding open the wooden door to the garderobe.

“Callie,” he called you, your name rolling easily off his tongue, like a trained whisper.

Annoyed didn’t cut it, disappointed didn’t either. You were pissed. There you were, breaking your back to get Marcus to yield to you, for a prostitute to easily find comfort on his lap.

The man behind the façade was unknown to you, but you hadn’t taken him for someone who enjoyed his free time in the whorehouse. Judging by how his hand cupped the small of her back and how the blonde was basically licking his neck, you were mistaken.

You were not jealous though. Just pissed, that was it.

Mumbling to yourself, you had walked out of the great hall to refill the empty jug with his favourite wine, not wanting to see such a spectacle unfolding in front of you. The burning sensation in the pit of your stomach would eventually fade, you were sure.

Although the door behind you was open, the inside of the garderobe was pitch-black. Patting blindly in the dark, you found the open barrel.

As you were about to turn the iron tap on, the sound of your name made you jump on the spot. Your pulse accelerated and the jug fell from your hands, clattering on the stone floor. You didn’t need to look to know who it was — considering how your skin bristled and warmth pooled low in your tummy, you already knew.

“Fuck, Marcus!” you exclaimed when you turned around to look at him.

Your heart rate spiked again, for a very different reason this time.

He had followed you; he had left the prostitute behind to come look for you. That had to mean something. Perhaps you had a tighter grip on him than what you originally thought.

And that pleased you immensely, to your dismay. The butterflies in your belly should be fucking dead, not fluttering their wings in excitement. Your heart kept on pounding against your ribcage, even harder when Marcus entered the tiny room and swung the door behind him, leaving it ajar.

A sliver of light flooded in through the crack, just enough so you could make out his features and the hard lines of his body.

Suddenly, the garderobe felt extremely small with him inside too.

“It’s not what it seems. I wasn’t—”

“You owe me no explanation, Acacius. What you do or you don’t do, it’s not my business,” you cut him off with the right amount of bitter venom distilling from your tongue.

The General pursed his lips in frustration. A dose of his own medicine wouldn’t hurt him.

“It’s not like I’m waiting around for you to make up your mind,” you added, lying through your teeth.

But you were such a good liar, Marcus was none the wiser. He believed every word. His nostrils flared and his hands tightened into fists on his sides.

“What do you mean?” his raspy voice came out in a threat.

You cocked a brow, proud chin up.

“You know what I mean. Or do you need me to draw it down for you, so you understand?”

The provocation was, most probably, the last straw for him. Marcus almost snarled at you as he closed the distance. He grabbed both of your wrists with his thick fingers, yanked at them and pushed you into his chest.

The sudden display of anger took you by surprise. A pleasant surprise, especially when you noticed his swollen bulge pressing on your belly. Saliva pooled in your cheeks and slick in your pussy.

“I know that’s not true. You wouldn’t be so desperate—”

“I am desperate?” you laughed, the shaking of your tummy stroking the lump in his white toga. “You can fool yourself, Marcus, but don’t try to fool me.”

Marcus stiffened, pulling your wrists down and around his waist as his head bowed down to you, his lips ghosting over yours.

He was about to kiss you.

“You’ll be missed on the dais. I’m sure that blonde is looking for you. Is she the reason you are so hard right now?” you grumbled, your best attempt to get on the last of his nerves.

“She can go to hell. I want you,” he groaned, his mouth brushing yours.  Your pussy gushing some more. “You are the reason why I can’t get it down.”

Marcus didn’t wait for your sneering reply — his mouth crushed yours, teeth colliding. The tip of his tongue pulled your teeth apart and he laid waste to your mouth. The stroke of his tongue on yours tasted sweet, warm. It swirled around in your cavity, looking for a crack in your determination to remain impassible.

But you were only human. You had wanted this since the moment you came up with your plan to destroy the General — you would never admit it out loud though.

So, you gave in, your tongue responding to his with little whimpers as your hands laced together on the small of his back to push him into you, feeling his erection through the fabric. One you knew how big and curved and thick it was. One you wanted to know the feel of in the most intimate way possible.

Marcus moaned in your mouth, and you breathed him in, bewildered by his taste and the herby smell his skin gave off. Your throat let go of a similar quiet wail, as you stumbled back, your back meeting the cold wall behind.

The General kissed you fiercely, the same way he waged war upon his enemies — relentless. His hips grinded against yours, rubbing his bulge on you to get off while his lips abandoned your mouth to lick the marble column of your neck. He trailed the path of your vein, leaving wet kisses on his way down.

Then he brushed the point where your left breast swelled, and the tip of his tongue skidded through your skin until it found the valley of your boobs. He licked between them, both of his hands cupping them up.

“I need to see them,” he whispered, your skin bristling instantly as his thumbs travelled up and rubbed the visible nipples. “Been dreaming about them since I met you. Can I?”

You did not expect him asking for permission, not when you assumed that, as the conqueror he was, he only took with no consideration.

Nodding with half-lidded eyes, surrendered to your own desire, you let him pull the neck of your dress down until both of your breasts were spilling over the hem.

“Good Gods, you are beautiful”, he muttered, marvelled at the sight of your boobs. His thumb brushed your taut left nipple, and you shivered. “They are perfect, columba (dove). So round and so full and so—” Crouched down over you, Marcus briefly licked it. “So fucking tasty.”

With no warning, his warm lips sealed around the tight button, and you couldn’t help yourself but moan, your hands burying in the nape of his neck and lightly pulling from his silvery curls. Marcus sucked it in, his tongue twirling around the nub. Then the caress of his wet muscle was replaced by his teeth lightly biting on your nipple and tugging.

Perhaps the sweet scent of the wine filling up the garderobe messed with your senses, with how you perceived the intensity of it all, of him.

You sobbed loudly, your cunt drenching and beating in response. Pressing your knees together, you wondered if this was how it was meant to be — how sex should feel every time. Warm, desperate, slick, needy. Because if this was it, if this was how it was supposed to be, you could never have enough.

A rush of wet warmth dripped onto your woollen loincloth, your lower belly inundated with a coiling feeling unknown to you — like a tense bow ready to fly an arrow.

Marcus’ right thumb found your unattended nipple, stroking it slowly as his devilish mouth devoured your other boob like a man starved. His tongue flicked and rippled against the tiny lump between his lips while his hips rutted into you, your dress and his toga impeding the contact you most craved.

“By Mars I swear you’re so fucking perfect,” he managed to say between licks before moving on to your other tit.

The General repeated the same process again and your legs trembled with elation. Tilting your face up, you massaged his scalp, soft moans slipping from your plump lips. His smothering tongue was so persuasive, lapping at you with precision, your mind went numb with pleasure. The coil in your belly tightened harshly, so much so you had to bite down your bottom lip to stop yourself from screaming his name.

Your damp pussy pulsated, another wave of slick wetting the pearly skin between your inner thighs.

“Marcus, oh, God,” you whispered, short of breath — your heart pounding in your ear drums, deafening.

“Let go for me. Come for me, sweetheart,” Marcus whispered before attacking your nipples again, one with his mouth and the other with his thumb.

His clothed cock rubbing low, right between your thighs. The roughness of your underwear abrasing your begging, writhing clit.

You couldn’t take it anymore. The overwhelming sensation between your legs was too much — your leaking cunt wanting to find release. And it did: the coil inside you finally snapped, warmth and dew soaking you. All your limbs went slack as you felt the last wave of your climax washing over you.

Then absolute peace, your brain numb with your first experience of an orgasm. Now you understood what other women whispered about when the men were away.

Speechless, you laid back against the wall as Marcus towered over you, a satisfied grin curling his lips.

“You’ve done so well for me,” his praise fell like sugary water from his lips, the palms of his hands cradling your face as he pressed his erection against you.

His tongue flicked between your lips, coaxing them apart, and you obliged. A soft, almost puritanical, kiss pressed on your mouth before his lingered to your cheek, then your ear.

“Callie, please, I need to fuck you,” the inflection on the word need made you whimper.

Unable to still find the words, feeling all mushy and heavenly, you nodded.

The sigh of relief that bubbled up Marcus’ chest would have made you laugh in other circumstances. But there was nothing laughable about this, about two people chasing the highest of highs.

“Praise be to the Gods,” he prayed at your acceptance, his broad hands landing on your hips to turn you around.

The cold stone wall greeted your nipples, the General pinning you against the wall with your back leaned on his hard chest. Tilting your hips back, your ass sweetly nuzzled his swollen groin, then his hands rode up the skirt of your dress, exposing your loincloths.

You gasped when Marcus pushed your underwear down to your knees slowly, his fingertips dragging along your velvety skin.

“I just know you’re gonna take me so well, mel (honey),” he purred in your ear, cupping your naked buttocks. “So, so well.”

The side of his hand slid across the fold between your ass cheeks until it found the dampness you harboured for him.

Marcus groaned in your ear, and you reciprocated, his touch so welcomed your clit twitched in response.

“Marcus, please,” you implored, eyes shut and mouth agape.

“I know, mel, I know.”

His clothes rustled behind you and knew he was naked from the waist down. Tempted, you looked over your shoulder just to confirm your suspicion, and your knees almost gave way. Pearls of precum topped the plump head of his throbbing cock, his hand holding it from the base.

As beautiful and tempting as last night, his dick twitched in need. Marcus stroked himself in a feeble attempt to calm himself. Leaned towards you, his lips nipping the crook of your neck, his beard tickling your sensitive skin, and you whined in desperation.

Guiding his thudding cock between your thighs, you felt it drag across your seeping furrow, wetting himself with your slick. The warm touch of his shaft along your puffy lips made you moan uncontrollably, back arched and your butt pressing onto his lower tummy.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, sweetheart. I’m going to feed it to you slowly,” he husked, voice raspy with want.

You wept some more, his cock sliding through your seam easily and freely. His mushroom head hitched on your clit, and then slipped back down to your entrance, catching too. Marcus pushed in ever so slightly, just half an inch, and your head tilted back, resting on his shoulder.

Another half an inch and then you felt it: the trained reaction of your inner walls clutching, not wanting to let him in. Years of abuse had taught your body to put up a fight, to squeeze your hole shut so your late husband wouldn’t hurt you.

You fought with yourself, asking your pussy to let Marcus in, as he intruded another inch.

He felt your hesitation, your inner struggle.

“Relax, columba, you’re too tight,” he groaned behind you, one hand sliding across your hip to your belly and diving between your thighs. Two of his thick fingers caressed your clit, the flick of them over your bundle of nerves softening your body. “That’s it, sweetheart, relax. I got you.”

Your inner walls loosened up ever so slightly as Marcus rocked his hips back and forth behind you, fucking you with just his tip. Easing his way in, helping you calm down as only his throbbing, leaking head pumped in and out of you. He was only feeding you a couple of inches, your pussy hugging him extremely tight as he did.

“Too damn tight,” he whispered, and you knew he was grasping for control, the pulsing of his cock rhythmic with the gentle petting of his fingers on your clit.

“Marcus, I can’t—”

Perhaps the trauma your husband had inflicted upon you reached further down than you thought. What a fucking moment to realise that.

“Shhh, it’s fine, it’s okay, mel. I’m more than happy with just the tip for now,” he reassured you, soothing your nerves. “Anything you give me willingly, I’ll take.”

True to his word, Marcus kept on fucking you with just the first two inches of his thrumming dick while his fingers worked your clit with expertise. Not too long after, your felt that burning, coiling sensation converging in your swollen pussy again, your cunt smothering Marcus’ tip even more.

“Oh, fuck, melculum (my little honey)… Come for me again, yes, come all over me,” he moaned in your ear.

At his command, you let go. A rush of liquid fire lapped at your pussy, then leaked over Marcus’ erection as you shrieked. Gathering your ridden-up skirt around your waist, Marcus wrapped one of his strong arms around you to keep you standing on your feet, rutting into to shallowly so he wouldn’t feed you more than two inches.

His cock pulsed hard in your entrance, a gruffy groan rumbling in his chest, almost tearing his throat apart. Marcus pulled back quickly, leaving you empty, and the tip of his cock rested on your left buttock as he jerked off.

A minute later, his warm white seed sticked to the skin of your round globe, dripping to the floor when it got to the cliff of your ass cheek.

Marcus kissed the back of your neck, both of you breathless and sweaty.

The first time you both found relief, together.

“You’ve done so well, mel,” he lauded you again, pulling your loincloth up.

You felt exhilarated, high and fucked out. Numb and spent. Satisfied.

You hoped he was too. He hadn’t been able to bury himself deep down in you, but you hoped you had been enough.

All the bravado you had showed him so far faded, a carefully built façade, and you felt slightly insecure with what had just happened.

“Marcus, I—”

Suddenly, the door to the garderobe swung open.

Marcus reacted quickly, pressing you against the wall some more and his hand placed against the wall, his arm blocking your face from the sight of the unwanted guest. His entire body along with the darkness shielded you from being recognised.

“Oh, Ò DHÌOL (oh my god)! Tha mi duilich (I’m sorry), General, tha mi cho duilich! (I’m so sorry),” you identified Brighid’s panicky voice and even though you couldn’t see her, you knew she blushed.

Then the door slammed shut.

Both of you started laughing.

@orcasoul @immyowndefender @sjc7542 @fairiebabey

@thepalaceofmelanie @harriedandharassed @whoaitspascal87

@verybigvag @jessthebaker @ivoryandflame @missadangel

@pepperstories @mewantpeepaw @inept-the-magnificent

[ihavemanyhusbands]

okayy. so this is my request idea 😍

can i req for him pls, he still mourning his wife however you (acacius' daughter) willing to give him your love, sadly he did not want it or keep you away from him. until you realized that he still in love with his wife so you gave distance. at the end, he wanted you and saved you after your father's death

Thank you for requesting <33

(Note: reader is not Lucilla’s daughter, just Acacius’ from a previous marriage)

——————

It had been a while since you’d last seen him.

You remembered your last encounter painfully well, when he'd turned his face away, unable to bear seeing the earnestness in your eyes. You had poured your heart out to him, but he hadn't been able to accept it. He'd drawn that line firmly in the sand, having to accept the consequences that came with it.

He hadn’t meant to hurt you, not really, but his heart was still splintered in a thousand bleeding shards. He was constantly reminded of the one he had loved for years before his return to Rome; The one he had bitterly lost at your father's command back in Numidia.

He never said her name at first — Arishat — until the day you confronted him after the naval battle at the colosseum. He had vowed his revenge against your father for her death, and he could not see past his hatred and mourning to see you. One of the only people who had offered him your genuine friendship, who'd heard countless stories about him from his mother, weaving an image of the strong, good-hearted man that you would one day fall in love with.

That day, the image had been shattered and your heart didn't fare any better. And so, for both of your sakes, you decided to keep your distance.

But then, after your father was arrested and forced to fight Lucius in the arena as a gladiator, things took a drastic turn. At the last moment, when your father had surrendered to him, Lucius decided to spare him, even going so far as to defend his honor.

Still, the Praetorian guard riddled him with arrows, and loss like you had never known had you crying to the skies, cursing the will of the Gods.

After the funeral, you were secluded at home for a nine-day mourning period in which no one else could reach you. Even after that, you refused to see anyone for another two weeks, letting both your heart and the scratches on your face from lamentations heal a little more.

When you felt just strong enough, you decided to throw a small dinner party to honor his life. And once the sun had set, it was none other than Lucius who showed up last, his expression somber. His body language was hesitant, like he wasn't entirely sure he would be welcome.

But when you made eye contact with him from across the room, he felt a little more encouraged to approach you. He offered his condolences and silently stood next to you as you stared at the flickering flames dancing in one of the braziers.

"Your father was a good man," he said. "I've come to realize that a little too late."

"He did what he had to do for the glory of Rome," you said, accepting his words but not denying that he had committed acts of brutality in his time as a commander.

"I have made many mistakes when it comes to you, as well. Please, forgive me."

You looked up at him and realized that despite how hard you had tried not to, you still ached for him. Swallowing thickly, you looked away before any tears could form in your eyes.

"It's all in the past now, Lucius," you murmured. "I bear you no ill will, especially after you showed mercy to my father."

There was a long silence in which the two of you were lost in thought. The two of you had your own burdens to bear, but perhaps they wouldn't be so heavy if the weight was shared. He had realized he did not want to be separated from you, even if it would take some time for the two of you to fully open up again.

He was a patient man and was more than willing to work for it -- to see it through. In time, perhaps two broken hearts would meld each other, stronger than before.

"I should like to be the one to take care of you now," he said, looking at your profile. "If you'll let me."

You stiffened, feeling something akin to hope surge within you. A lump formed in your throat and you let a tear run down your cheek. Unable to find the right words to respond to him, though, you settled for taking his hand.

And it was then he knew that things would be alright.

-------------

[avatar-anna]

Three days had passed and Harry hadn't left your tiny apartment.

He kept saying he should probably leave, and you insisted there were things you had to do, but neither of you actually made it past the threshold of your door. No one said goodbye, or even bothered to shrug back into clothes. For three days, you ate, drank, and slept with Harry.

"You're making it hard to leave," he murmured, his voice low and content as you placed tiny kisses on his neck, his collarbone, his jaw, anywhere you could reach, really. It was how you used to wake Harry up when you were together, and when morning number four rolled around, you couldn't help yourself but lean across the bed and kiss his soft, sun kissed skin.

At first, you kept up the pretense of being unattached, of sleeping with Harry merely because you knew each other well enough physically. "This doesn't mean we're back together," you'd both whisper, or something to that effect, before blurring the lines of your non relationship once more.

"You're not making it any easier to kick you to the curb," you mumbled, one hand reaching up to caress his stubbly cheek. The fine, short hair that seemed to grow in the last few days.

Harry smelled good, like he usually did with a mix of the soap in your shower. It messed with your head in a way that was dangerous, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

So he didn't leave (again), and you didn't tell him to go(again). You and Harry stayed in bed for most of the day, only bothering to get up when hunger was too apparent to ignore. You managed to whip something up from the meager groceries you had, not having gone to the market recently, and sat with Harry at the little dining table by the kitchen. The balcony would've been a much nicer spot, as it looked out over the neighborhood square you stayed in, but it was too public, too many keen eyes would've spotted Harry immediately.

"Part of me wishes I hadn't seen you at all," Harry confessed later in the day. You were back in bed after a brief stint in the kitchen where you tried to make pancakes, which promptly turned into kissing and licking pancake batter off Harry as he did the same to you on the kitchen counter, pancakes no longer a priority.

You knew he hadn't meant it to hurt you, but the words sent a pang through your chest, so different from the heat and fireworks and butterflies you usually got from him. Everything was so different now. It was hard to face how much had changed, especially now that Harry was in bed beside you. "I know."

"It's easier to pretend when I can't see you," he said softly, his hand never once stopping as it tracked through your hair, nor did your hand stop tracing patterns in his chest.

"Pretend?"

Harry blew out a large sigh before sitting up in your bed, his arms stretching high above his head. There were hickeys littered all over his body, one on his hip revealing itself as the bedsheet fell and settled just below his waist. You found yourself transfixed by your ex's body, the one you still loved so much the idea of him leaving made your heart hurt.

"Do you still love me?" Harry asked out of the blue.

The question shocked you, but only because you thought the last three days would've made it obvious. You certainly didn't have to ask him how he felt. "Yes."

"That makes it easier too. In a selfish way, I guess," he said, not once meeting your eye. "Knowing you're in as much pain as I am."

Unexpected tears welled in your eyes. You never wanted to hurt Harry. He'd been right to say it was easier to imagine him happy and healthy post break up if you didn't see or hear from him. It was easier to move on if you convinced yourselves that you were better off without each other.

"Harry—"

"I miss you, Y/n," he said, his voice trembling slightly. Harry wouldn't meet your eye, which made all of this so much worse. "I know why we broke up, and I've done everything short of sleeping with someone else to try and move on, but I just—Tell me you're struggling as much as I am. Tell me you don't sleep as well as you used to because I'm not there. Or don't. Tell me this has all just been sex to you so I know there's an end to this—this—"

"Misery?" you finished for him. "I wish I could. I don't know if I'll ever be the same again, honestly."

"Then why—"

"Don't ask why. Please. Not when you know the answer."

It wasn't like you and Harry woke up one day and stopped loving each other. Everything about your relationship had been nothing short of perfect from the very beginning.

Until it wasn't.

"No one has to know this time," Harry said. His tone had taken on a desperate edge, almost making you turn away from him so you wouldn't have to face it, do this all over again. "We can—We can keep this a secret. It'll be just us."

It will never be just us, you thought miserably. "People already know, H."

At the look of confusion on his face, you reached for your phone. You showed him the slew of articles that had already been written. Pictures of you and Harry walking through Rome together three days ago, each one picking you apart or depicting you as the villain in Harry's life.

"I know that's why you're still here. You're waiting for the storm to blow over," you said, unable to meet his eye.

"That's not—After everything I just said, you really think that's why I stayed?" he asked. You'd turned away from him, but you felt his hand on your shoulder, the kiss to your temple as he leaned in close.

"I wish I was the kind of person who didn't care what anyone thought, that I could simply exist in this relationship and not let anyone else in, but—but I'm not. I can't."

"You. Are. Enough," Harry murmured, pressing each word into your skin with a kiss. You closed your eyes, tears leaking from the corners as he curled himself around your body. One leg slid between yours, and you selfishly pulled him closer as he continued to murmur in your ear.

You fell asleep in your ex's arms, the weight of his body on yours more comforting than any blanket. When you woke up, Harry was there, but he wasn't wrapped around you anymore. He sat at the edge of your bed, wearing clothes for the first time since he'd set foot in your apartment.

"You're leaving?" you asked, voice scratchy with sleep.

"I'm supposed to go to Florence tomorrow," Harry said, bent over as he tied his shoes. "I've got a dozen messages on my phone asking where I am."

Something in Harry's voice sounded different, distant, just the way he sounded when you initially ran into him. It pulled at something in your heart, something that you'd been keeping at bay since you invited Harry into your apartment—the knowledge that this would eventually end.

"So you're—You were just going to leave? Without saying anything?"

You heard Harry sigh as he rested his head in his hands. "I thought it would be easier. Our last conversation seemed...final."

"I know, but—"

But what? Harry was right. This wasn't going anywhere. You told him you couldn't be in a relationship with him, and he was responding to that. You knew it was coming, but it didn't hurt any less now that the moment had finally come.

"You're right," you said eventually, sitting up in your bed. "We came here separately, of course you have plans. I'm sorry if I kept you."

"You didn't," Harry reassured. "There's nowhere I wanted to be the last few days, but we... we're broken up, and as much as I want to stay, I don't want to keep giving myself false hope."

Your fingers twitched, itching to reach out, to touch him, hold him. But he was right. As much as you loved this relationship limbo, that was all it was. Stringing you and Harry along would only hurt you more.

"I'm sorry," was all you could say. For too many things, none of which you could bring up without crying.

"Me too," Harry said.

Harry's lean figure appeared a couple minutes later, his head bent and shoulders slightly hunched, avoiding the few photographers who had been waiting for him to leave the building. You wanted him to turn around. You wanted to see his face one last time, a final farewell. But perhaps for his sake, he didn't, and you watched as he retreated down the street and turned down the road out of sight.

Leaning across the bed, he kissed your forehead, then stood up. "One day you'll realize how extraordinary you are, and you wont care how people perceive you," he said, his thumb caressing your cheek. "And then you'll go and make someone the luckiest man in the world by giving yourself over to him completely. I'm just devastated it wasn't me."

You watched him go from the sanctuary of your bed, knowing the second he was out of sight you'd break down completely. The door closed with a soft clock, and even though you knew you shouldn't, you hurried over to your bedroom window, waiting anxiously to get one last glimpse of him.

On your last day in Rome, you found a note he'd written.

Harry had hidden it in one of the pockets of his favorite of your sweaters, though you weren't exactly sure when. It wasn't very long, and the note itself was no more than a scrap of paper, one you'd nearly thrown out by accident. But you would've recognized his handwriting anywhere, and fond memories of notes you used to find among your things kept you from throwing away the folded paper and opening it instead.

Perhaps in another life. Unless you change your mind in this one, H.

[district4loading]

One of your girls

Twice Sana!Sub x Female Reader!Dom

5k Words

Content Warning: smut, fingering, oral, strap-on, slight possessive/jealous reader, breeding kink, hair pulling

Minors DNI

A/N: This isn't my first time writing, I have a bunch of other random stories and smuts in my drafts. Feel free to ask me anything and request stuff. When I have the time I will work on introducing you guys to me and the things I will/won't write along with the groups I stan.

With that being said, please enjoy! It's mostly smut

-

“So then, am I one of your girls?”

-

"You know, I saw a headline the other day titled 'Sana of Twice rumored to have been in multiple relationships with women'" You spoke softly, still hearing whines and whimpers coming from the girl above you as you slid the pad of your middle finger through her slick folds "Well, it wasn't like an established article or anything, more so a Tik tok video with rumors that saesangs—"

Sana sighed desperately, she honestly didn't give a fuck about whatever you were on about now. You were laid flat on your belly between her legs, face and fingers oh so close to where she needed you to be right now and you were talking about one among her many gay rumors. How could you possibly be thinking about anything else right now but getting her off? It was really all you were good for anyways. As you kept on speaking, explaining how the rumors were basically baseless claims she cut you off "Uh? Y/n.. can - fuck - can you just.. please"

You stopped speaking, considering the idea that you really could've been doing something better with your mouth right now. So you hummed "Yeah sorry, I just thought it was funny because it's true and nobody believes it... some even say that you're the straightest member" You snickered, finding that term being associated with Minatozaki Sana—of all people—to be humorous.

Sana more so huffed, the noise coming out of her mouth bubbling with impatience "Well that's no mere coincidence, i'm careful and I know how to pick my girls... now please just - Ah Fuck!" The girl's sentence was cut off by a guttural moan which tore from her lips because like the asshole you were, you decide to actually do something while she was speaking. Sana would never complain about that though, the moment you finally slid your finger past her folds and into her hot entrance she was inexplicably satisfied by the sensation.

Her legs tried to close a bit but they ended up only squeezing you because you were in the way. "So then, am I one of your girls?" You questioned her. Now, it wasn't like you didn't assume that Sana probably had some sort of roster, how could you not? The girl was one amongst the most attractive k-pop idols in the industry so of course she had options.

You just wanted to be her best one.

"You know you are - mmh" Sana's eyes clamped shut the moment you curled your finger. You feared to push another in because of the way her hot walls hugged you. She was so tight, like she hadn't been fucked by anyone else before this in a while. Which made sense because the last time you saw her was maybe a month ago? You slowly pumped your fingers in and out, allowing her to feel the stretch of the digit as much as she could.

You merely hummed in response to what she said, "When was the last time you've had sex?" It probably wasn't wise to ask her questions like this when you were two knuckles deep inside of her but you were curious and it's sort of relevant.

"Fuck- I don't know... whens the last time you were here?" She managed to say the words properly without breaking or moaning which was impressive considering that each time you made it to the hilt, your finger brushed passed her g-spot. Another thing you noticed, that quite frankly made your ears perk, was that Sana hadn't had sex with anyone but you in the past month. "I haven't had much time to - God - you know... because of work" Her hips began to squirm.

You couldn't help but smile as you slid your ring finger inside, eliciting a sharp and higher pitched moan from Sana. "Is it because of work or the fact that nobody can fuck like me?" You teased picking up the pace a bit. Sana just threw her head back, struggling to tell you to shut up as she arched her back while you continued to stretch her out.

Then finally, it was the time you decided to actually put your mouth to a much better use. You dipped your head down and stuck your tongue out, flattening it against Sana's warm clit feeling it pulse and throb like an irregular heart beat. Now your head was really being squeezed between her slim thighs as she keened, a cute noise escaping her lips.

It was obvious she hadn't done this in a while and if you couldn't tell by what she said or how tight she was, you would've known by how reactive she had been. So sensitive and needy, twitching - hips bucking at every graze and eventual touch you offered to any part of her bare skin. You swirled your tongue around the bundle of nerves "Fuck - just like that - Ah! - don't stop, baby" Sana gasped with her hands fondling her own breasts, tweaking her stiff nipples which were still glossy from your saliva.

You hummed, sucking the warm bud in, taking care of her properly like you always did. With your fingers still repeatedly hitting her g-spot you knew she had to be right there. You made a mental note as her breathing increased and she began cursing over and over again. Small phrases like "Fuck" and "Shit" but in different combinations. Sometimes she would chant them one after the other or she'd just stick to repeating one. "Fuck - If you keep - oh God yes - You're - You're - shit - gonna make me fucking -"

Her eyes were wired shut now, just after she had gathered up the courage to raise her head to watch you. Now she was about to cum all over your fingers and in your mouth and you couldn't wait for it. Her taste was delicious in only the most filthiest ways. Since Sana had to take care of her body, being a k-pop idol and all, she loved to eat fruit which is why she always made for the sweetest meal. You were more so doing it for your pleasure and hers rather than just hers.

"Cumming... Cumming... I'm..." Sana was heaving now, words she tried to say not being able to come out. Instead she mouthed them, it was the best she could do. From what you could make out she was only just repeating the audible words she last uttered. Cumming. Then in the blink of an eye, her back was arched the highest it could go, her body shuddering and shaking as she moaned the loudest she has tonight. Well it was more of an adorable squeal, which you noticed by now that she only did when she was cumming hard.

She began to leak all over your fingers as you slowed them to help her ride out her orgasm. When her body collapsed back onto the bed, you knew she was done. So you withdrew completely, sliding your fingers out and crawling up her hot body. She smiled lazily, allowing you to leave kisses on her lips that she couldn't even begin to reciprocate. Sana tried though, kissing you back just enough to satisfy the both of you. "Satisfied?" You questioned Sana as you stared into her still lust filled eyes.

"mm-mm" She shook her head, you knew she would. There was really only one way that she could be truly 'satisfied' by you and that was when you were 6-8 inches inside, hitting all of her deepest spots. You dipped your head into the crook of her neck, leaving kisses and small sucks on the warm flesh. The salty flavor was intoxicating. "Get the...mm, in the drawer" She told you.

A smirk grew on your face, you knew exactly what she needed right now and after a month with no sex you couldn't blame her. All the more you were glad that the first person she called over when she finally had time was you. So you left one more kiss on Sana's neck and went into the bottom drawer by her nightstand. "Which one?" You questioned her, seeing that there were a few new additions to her collection of toys.

"Your choice"

That was all she said and it made a giddy feeling emerge inside of you. Sana wanted you to choose a toy to ruin her with. She should know not to put that kind of power into your hands. You were no sadist, but if she gave you an inch, you wouldn't ever hesitate to take a mile. So you picked up the black strap-on, the biggest one in the collection. Maybe almost the length of Sana's forearm with a girth that made the silicone look all too intimidating.

Sana's eyes widened, pupils blown as she saw what you picked and sure enough, a smirk grew on her face."You know, you look the prettiest like that" You told her as you put the attachment on. She was just watching you, sitting naked on her heels as you got ready.

"So i'm the prettiest when i'm about to get fucked is what you're saying?" She teased, faking as if she was offended. "Not when i'm on a magazine cover or performing or modeling? You know, that's crazy because those times are when I actually try to look pretty"

You shook your head after finally working your way through the straps "mm-mm, because all those things are for everybody else to see. I mean sure, you are drop dead gorgeous no matter what" You paused then climbed onto the bed and on top of the idol to which she gave no resistance to lay down and let you in between her legs. "But nothing compares to the complete and utter... raw... lust and desire in your eyes right now. The one that you only look at me with." You kissed her neck once "That along with that sexy smirk of yours... makes for the prettiest face ever"

Sana hummed ignoring the part where you said that she only looked at you with lust and desire. It wasn't true, but she decided to let you have that one. "I didn't think of it that way, why are you so poetic?" She giggled a bit.

You just shrugged your shoulders "No idea... you ready?" You asked as you lined the head of the toy up with her entrance.

"mm-hm, just be careful. It's been long and you decided to pick the biggest one" You nodded, then pushed your hips forward a bit and fuck - it's in. You heard a sharp wince escape Sana's lips and then a delicate moan followed it as she shut her eyes. So you leaned down, allowing her to wrap her legs around your waist and her arms around your back as you went further... deeper.

The way her face twisted up, eyebrows knitting together, pouty lips almost frowning. You didn't know what you were thinking before because this was indeed the prettiest she's ever looked. You didn't say it though, you just called her name softly, not moving any deeper "Sana?" Her name escaped your lips so easily. She opened her eyes and looked deep into yours "You okay?"

Sana nodded, humming in response "Yes, please keep going" She gave you the green light verbally so you pushed your hips forwards some more. Sana was making that face again and god you wished you could feel her inside. She probably felt so fucking good, you envied any man she's ever slept with because it had to have been a life changing experience.

You sighed "I wish I could get you pregnant" It really just came out, you didn't even realize you said it out loud until Sana started to giggle.

"Wait" She stopped you just to laugh a little harder. "You're about to fuck me and you're thinking about getting me pregnant?" She asked, still not believing the words that just came out of your mouth.

"Well, yeah. Isn't it fitting?"

"Yeah except you can't"

"I know, that's why I said it... well, I thought it, I didn't even mean to say it out loud" You muttered, causing Sana to laugh even harder at you. Another sigh falls from your lips, you felt a bit embarrassed by your sudden expression of affection. You knew Sana found it funny because that wasn't at all what this was. She wasn't yours, you weren't hers and it bothered you, a lot. So you decided to shut her up, fully bottoming out without warning.

A scream tore from her lips, the loudest of the night at the sudden assault. "Oh my god" She squeezed your body harder "I told you to be careful" She complained, knowing that she was gonna be sore later. You didn't care though, you were pissed because she was laughing at you.

"Shut up" You muttered before drawing back and sliding all the way back in. She moaned loudly, her eyes rolling back as you began thrusting your hips hard and deep at a steady pace. She was struggling to get a grip while you changed angles.

"Fuck" Thrust "You're" Thrust "Hitting my-" Thrust "Ah! Fuck." You did it on purpose, fucking her like this just to make her a dumb mess while she spoke. There was something uniquely satisfying at the way each of your thrusts pushed a single word out of her throat. It made you so wet, having this exceptionally beautiful girl under you like this. You felt the slick arousal collecting between your thighs - Fuck and not to mention the way the seat of the toy brushed up against your clit each time you made it to the hilt. 'I could cum like this' You told yourself, feeling butterflies erupting in your belly with another surge of arousal.

You leaned forwards, putting your mouth on hers as you kept moving your hips, thrusts still hard and deep. She loved it this way and you knew it, you knew her body so well by now. You were catching her enthusiastic moans and swallowing each wonderful sound with your mouth as you kissed her more. As expected you did most of the work, licking, sucking and biting at her swollen lips. You couldn't get enough of her and it seemed like she felt the same way about you with how she squeezed her legs around you.

'This has got to be my favorite toy' You thought to yourself, sighing as you felt the slippery friction attacking your sweet spot in all the right ways. Sana couldn't even tell that you were feeling it because she was too fucked out and dizzy to notice your irregular breathing or your pleasureful grunts. It was all a blur in her mind right now as she carved sweet red marks into your back.

You pulled back a bit, now she was holding onto your biceps as you looked down to watch where your bodies met. She was clenching, you could tell because of the slight resistance you felt upon drawing back. You leaned all the way back down, your lips next to her ears. "You're about to cum aren't you?" You teased "Bet you've been waiting for this - God - you've been waiting for me to come over and fuck you dumb"

"Ah- yes, yes, yes, yes" Sana chanted, gasping as she felt that hot coil in the pit of her stomach, a feeling that she'd been craving for so long and God it was happening—and it was happening while you were between her legs. "Pl-Plea-uh Please!" She began begging, what for? Your permission of course but you were feeling generous this particular night.

"Go ahead baby, be a good girl and cum for me, Sana" You used the term she loved to be called. It only got her that much closer as you rolled your hips in a rhythm, the same one that kept her legs shaking and her walls fluttering. "Fuck - look at you, so fucking pretty while you're getting ruined"

"I...I-I can't... I'm cumming, I'm cumming, I'm cumming—" Sana repeated the words over and over like a broken record until one more "I'm" and before she could even continue, the coil snapped and she was orgasming with her back rising to form a wonderful bow shape. As if she was being summoned by God himself and well—it definitely felt like she was. Her body shaking and stuttering as you kept the same pace which if you knew Sana you knew it was crucial in helping her ride it out.

When she stopped moving, and her moans and gasps reduced to tired whimpers you took it as a sign that her peak had tapered off. You kissed her sweetly on the lips as you slid all the way out, but you weren't done yet. "Roll over" You asked softly, noticing that look in her eye. She was so down for more—another thing you really liked about Sana. The girl could go rounds and rounds and rounds without being boring or getting tired.

Sana slowly but surely turned over so that she could be on all fours—or at least try to be—she lazily allowed her upper body to rest on the mattress and she was just how you liked her to be, face down ass up. You positioned yourself behind her and took the toy into your hand. Once hand squeezing her ass cheek while the other was dragging the tip up and down her messy cunt.

Needy whimpers escaped her lips and she was already trying to push back to achieve some sort of penetration, pressure—anything. This surprised you because you didn't expect her to be so needy for it this soon, but then again it's been a while so you couldn't blame her much. But goddamn she was so sexy when she got like this, the noises she made, the needy movements... all of it so, so sexy and it was all for you. "So needy" You smacked your teeth and let your hands rest on her slim waist, squeezing it for a moment.

"Y/n~" Sana whined your name and it sounded like music to your ears. "Please... Please do something" She begged. You found it so hot, you hadn't even asked her to but she was already begging for you to take her again. You slapped her ass, hard, watching the flesh jiggle while she moaned in response. She loved the stinging pain, as a matter of fact, she got high on it.

"You've got to be specific to get what you want.. Princess" You muttered, knowing it would make her gush and clench over nothing. It was embarrassing how well you knew her body and all the things that made her tick after what? just a few months of hooking up with her. So easy.

"Please—Please" Sana took some time to raise her head and turn back. The sight was one you could only thank God for giving you the eyes to witness. Her eyes were dark and hooded, pretty pink lips swollen, brown hair stuck to her face with the sweat. "I want you to fuck me with that toy, fill me up, pound me, use me... and don't stop until we're both finished" Her words as well as her tone was nothing short of filthy lust, the kind that you would only hear in a porno. You fucking loved it.

Smirking, you took the toy into your hand and nudged the tip into her entrance. She was still looking back and when your eyes met hers, you pushed your hips forwards nice and slow. You watched as her eyebrows began to knit, mouth forming an 'o' shape as she took the girthy toy inside. When you made it to the hilt, Sana's upper body collapsed back into the bed and the seat of the toy pushed against your clit in a way that made you gasp. "Fuck... this toy is gonna be the death of me" You almost whimpered out loud, the burning pleasure being way too much to handle.

"Yeah? I knew you'd like it" Sana mentioned, causing you to quirk your eyebrow.

"What? you've used it on someone before?" You questioned her, knowing that she was a bottom that only occasionally liked to switch depending on who she was with. But Sana mostly was the type to seek out dominant women so you were a bit confused.

"mm-mm, i spent the night with a friend a bit ago and she told me all about it" You tilted your head, remembering that she said she hadn't been fucked in a month, and the last time you were here this toy wasn't in the collection.

"That doesn't make sense, Sana"

"What?"

"Earlier you told me that it's been a month since you had sex"

Sana stammered a bit before actually responding to you with words "I mean like it was 3-4 weeks ago so it's basically been a month since then"

You slapped her ass again, this time a bit harder causing a strangled moan to escape her lips. "Was it three or four Sana?" You were beginning to get possessive, knowing that you had no right to but she'd still allow it because she thought it was hot when you got like this.

"Ow- Fuck Y/n does it matter?"

"Yeah, Four weeks is a month, three isn't, so which one is it?" You said lowly.

In reality it's been four weeks, but Sana liked where this was going so she lied. "Three" She stated, closing her eyes as she bit back a smile, bracing herself for a slap that never came. Instead she felt your rough hands gripping her waist, causing her to whimper a bit. Then you began to fuck her, listening to her moan uncontrollably and grip the sheets as you began at a pace way too fast for the small girl to handle. "Y/n! Baby- Fuck... I'm sorry" She whined, getting off on this more than you could ever know.

You paused for a moment and reached over, gathering up her wavy brown hair in a ponytail. You pulled her head up then began fucking her again, her body jolting forwards come each thrust. It was so easy, the way the silicone just slid in and out but you weren't thinking about that, your mind was plagued with a complete jealous anger that burned in your stomach. You were near to her ear at this point "I didn't fucking hear you" You gritted through your teeth.

It was difficult to stay dominant cause - fuck - this toy was really rubbing you in the right places and it felt amazing. But you needed her a sobbing fucked out mess under you before you even thought about cumming so you had to hold it all back. "I'm - Fuck... I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm—" She kept on apologizing in that whiny tone you loved. She repeated the apology so many times that it was almost comical.

"Sorry for what?"

"Sorry for lying" You hummed as if you wanted her to continue and when she didn't, you slapped her ass again, hard. It seemed to knock some good sense into her because she managed to find the words herself. "Sorry for being a dirty, lying, slut" She specified, absolute filth dripping from her words. You felt that same resistance inside again and that’s what told you that she was getting off on this. You didnt think it'd turn her on that badly but... shit it did.

"You're so fucking filthy, you know" You muttered, letting go of her hair which allowed her to collapse as she wanted to on the bed. "I know you're getting off on this... you probably lied on purpose, knowing that i'd fuck you like this, because you love it, you love the way I fuck don't you?"

"Fuck - yes!" Sana began gripping the sheets once more, leaking and gushing at how aggressive you were being right now. "I love how you fuck me - so hard, so deep - I can - fuck - I can feel it in my fucking guts the way you — god yes right there" She was an utter mess, mumbling and muttering random broken words as you pounded her into the bed.

"Yeah? Who's the best fuck you've ever had?" You were just stroking your ego now, knowing that it was you.

"Y-You, baby... you!" She admitted vocally, moaning loudly as you continued to utterly wreck her. "Just like that baby - Just like that - Just like— Ah!"

You leaned over, pounding your hips into Sana's ass until she lay flat on the bed, your fists pressed into the mattress near either side of her head. Her ass was so soft it felt like you were thrusting into a soft pillow. "Keep fucking — you're fucking me so good - ah - i'm - so fucking close"

"Hold it"

"I-I I can't" She whined, this wasn't good. Sana would normally try to be a good girl, cum when she was allowed to. But tonight you were fucking the absolute shit out of her, hitting spots that she didn't even know existed. She was seeing stars as the pleasure overtook her so she had absolutely no control when it came to holding it this time. When it was happening, it was happening and there was no stopping it. So the best thing she could do? Beg. Beg like the neediest slut in the world so you would give her permission in time.

"Please! Please! Let me cum, please baby" She whined, feeling her legs begin to tremble on their own. Oh God this isn't good- you were merciless, pounding into her just right. Even if you weren't, she beilieved that you had to be some kind of sadist. You knew that she wouldn't be able to hold it when you were fucking her like this but you still told her to. Only a sadist would.. "Fuck- wait... please - it's - it's - it's coming!"

This whole time, you've been holding it too, you were so fucking close. The thought that you were going to cum while you were inside of her, made everything feel ten times better. You began grunting louder and animalistic "Fuck- I'm right there baby" You moaned, feeling it coming.

Sana gasped at this, the noise coming out of her mouth filthy as she realized it, you were going to cum inside of her. That made butterflies erupt in the pit of her stomach where she was oh so close to letting go. "Pl-Please! Breed me - Breed me.. please - w-want your babies..." The poor girl was sobbing now, she was only doing her best to keep up.

But the words she was saying, begging you to breed her. "Fuck - You can cum" You muttered and just like that, with one more stroke and a strangled moan you were cumming. You were cumming while you were maybe 9 inches inside of her. To ride out your high, you kept grinding and then Sana was cumming too, screaming into the sheets as her body shook so recklessly.

Eventually you ground to a stop, leaning over Sana to leave sweet kisses on her sweaty shoulder, then down her spine. You were both out of breath but you loved to worship her perfect body any chance you got. "Y/n?" Sana called your name softly so you hummed in response, your tone gentle as well. "Let me buy you dinner some time"

[sunflowervoltwentyeight]

Happy 28th! Here is my November 2024 fic rec, organized by word count, from longest to shortest. You can view my other fic recs here. Enjoy!

Next to your Heartbeat (where I should be) by jaded25 (130k)

"We were meant to be but a twist of fate made it so we had to walk away"

All it takes for them to fall in love is one night. All they have to do is wait one year to see each other again.

Yet, when Louis returns after his year abroad, the boy who's got his arms wrapped around Harry isn't him. It isn't a stranger either, which should make walking away all that easier. After all, friend's don't lust after their mate's boyfriends.

Technically, doing the right thing should be easy - but when has Louis ever been known to taking the easy way out?

To Haunt a Heart by etherealbliss / @givesuethemoon (110k)

A high-profile double homicide in the quiet, small town of Ashford, WA sends shockwaves through the public. Louis, the lead detective assigned to the case, is headstrong, earnest, and desperate to prove himself. Harry, the widow of one of the victims, is insufferably rich, wears far too many vintage dressing gowns, and is desperate to prove he’s not guilty.

Their desperation unexpectedly blossoms into something beautiful behind closed doors, amidst the ticking time bomb of a slowly unravelling mystery that the two soon find themselves deeply entwined in.

Where Words Fail, Music Speaks by Larry_you_know / @larryyouknow (45k)

Louis is a world class violinist. He’s one year over forty, living his best life in New York. One day, he comes to a small town in Connecticut where he inherited a house from his late father. The town looks nice and its people welcome him warmly. The problem is that Louis never knew his father and he doesn’t intend to change anything about it - his father can stuff his last will up his treacherous ass. In a strange coincidence, Louis meets town troubadour Harry, who seems wonderful to him just right until he reveals that Louis’ father was like a dad to him.

Even though Louis tries to convince himself that it shouldn’t - it hurts.

written for 1D Silver Fox Fest

Too Much, but It’s Enough by ohpleaselarry / @ohpleaselarry (40k)

There are about a thousand things Louis wishes he could go back in time and fix. A thousand things, and nearly all of them include Harry.

There are the more simple things, like showing him more support, telling him it’s okay to be himself, gently reminding him that a condom in his pocket is rather obvious in skinny jeans, but if he could just choose one thing, just one to change, he’d probably just have told the lad he loves him.

Always has. And always will.

Baby, What a Big Surprise by kiwikero / @icanhazzalou (33k)

As Harry settles into his seat, self-consciously adjusting his shirt over his slightly distended stomach, he can’t help but wonder how he got himself into all this. But he knows, of course he knows. It isn’t exactly easy to forget the moment that changed his entire life forever.

It all started with a party.

Or, the one where shy, quiet Harry has no idea he's a carrier, and a one night stand with the most popular boy in school shows him just how wrong he was.

Featuring Lottie as Harry's best friend, Niall as her boyfriend, and, of course, Louis as the popular boy with a soft spot for his little sister's quirky friend.

Into This Mess by crimsontheory / @ireallysawanangel (20k)

The first day of Louis’ promotion is going well, far better than he expected. That is until his new partner shows up, who just so happens to be the guy who stumbled half-dressed out of his flat that same morning.

Or the enemies to lovers detective AU.

Have Me And Hold Me by letsjustsee (8k)

His clumsy trips were now even more burdened by the sudden downpour. Twice he almost fell making his way back to the ceremony area, mostly due to his insistence on running across the lawn in between trips. The rain was relentless, coming at him from all angles with a deafening wind that muted everything outside of his own heavy breathing. He felt like he was making pretty good headway, all things considered. His pace was stalled only momentarily when, on his tenth or so trip, he thought about what someone looking out the window at that moment would see. Louis in his formal shirt and trousers, barefoot, stomping through the muddy lawn to gracelessly lug two chairs at a time towards the building.

Or, a wedding day AU in which Louis will let nothing stand in the way of a perfect day - especially a little rain.

If We Make It Through December, We'll Be Fine by penceypansy / @penceypansy (8k)

A job promotion of his dreams, an eight month long distance relationship, a cancelled train, and an emotional misunderstanding - Louis is just trying to make it home for the holidays.

No Faith Left to Lose by louieshalo / @louieshalo (7k)

Louis shoves an album booklet — Harry’s album booklet — into Harry’s hands, folded open to a familiar page. “I need you to tell me that that goddamn song is not about me.” His voice cracks a little in his vehemence, and ice fills Harry’s veins as he glances down at the creased page.

He doesn’t need to look closely to know what it is Louis is talking about — the title is printed plainly on the page, Second Chances, along with every incriminating lyric, line by line. It’s his most blatant offense off the entire album, probably; sickeningly indulgent and too obviously vulnerable to even defend himself against. The song is a surface-level dip into the fantasy world Harry toys with when the ache of loneliness gets to be too much in the middle of the night, the brief glimpse already toeing over the boundary he’d promised himself he’d set for his career.

Most damning, though, is the tiny embossed dedication at the bottom of the page;

“For who I’d be if I wasn’t afraid,” Louis recites, looking expectantly at Harry. “What the fuck does that mean?

or, the one where they miss each other more than anything.

With You I Am Never Alone by LiveLaughLoveLarry (SoLongAndThanksForAllTheFic) (6k)

Louis comes up with the idea of holding a Thanksgiving dinner for their families. Harry loves it. And him.

[ofdarknesseyes]

That damn kid really had no right blushing like that and making Toji feel a burst of warmth within him. He just wasn’t used to this anymore. He can’t stop thinking about the past, can’t stop the memories flooding in. The way he felt his heart soar when baby Megumi first smiled at him, first laid his head against him, first hugged him, first called out to him. He knows that the Megumi he once knew is no more, at least not really. He could maybe read Megumi a bit even now but truly he had no idea what his son even liked. Sure he remembers what he didn’t and did like back then but it's been years. Megumi has grown into his own person and been exposed, experiences so many different and new things.

Though he can’t help but grin at the fact that Megumi was still grumpy as hell. He has to stop himself from chuckling at the revelation. Only more amused at Megumi’s scandalized reaction to being called pretty. Has no one ever told him that before? He raises an eyebrow, now his grin of amusement unable to be contained.

“I can’t? Why not? Fine, handsome? Gorgeous?” “No? Okay, you’re hideous.”

He lies and rolls his eyes. Did his son truly believe he wasn’t good-looking? Perhaps it is him going through his whole teenage angst years. It’s been so long so he can’t remember what it was like for him. Then again teenage Toji had been more preoccupied with just trying to survive. Damn, he really had no fucking clue what it means to be a dad. How to act like one or say the right thing. He wonders if Gojo is any better at this? He doesn’t dwell on the matter for too much longer since he dozes off.

His senses are still apparently just as good as before because despite being asleep, he wakes when he senses Megumi by the bed. He makes a noise of acknowledgement but that's all for a moment. When Megumi doesn’t make further movement to lie down he sighs and finally turns to face him.

“I don’t bite, kid. There’s plenty of room.”

He shifts over to give him space. But then ends up slowly sitting up anyway, standing and yawning. Could he even blame Megumi for still being on edge? It wasn’t like he didn’t notice the subtle flinching anytime Toji got too close or touched him. Megumi has far from forgiven him yet, and he had no right to invade his personal space, even if Megumi was being wishy-washy with it all. Acting like he didn’t trust Toji and wanted nothing to do with him, but also not willing to let him go. Fair… Toji will roll with it.

“I’m going to shower too anyways. You can have the bed.” “Oh yeah, I got some clothes.”

He points to a bag on the table. He had bought a few spare outfits for them both, not knowing what the plan would be after this. With that Toji finally goes into the bathroom, leaving Megumi to relax in bed alone if he wants to. Unlike Megumi, Toji takes a quick shower, rinsing off and wrapping the towel around his waist. He comes out dripping wet as he looks for the new clothes he bought. He rummaged in the bag before pulling out something black and going back into the bathroom to finish drying up. When Toji reappears he is roughly drying his hair with the towel before draping it over a chair. He’s in nothing but black shorts. He grabs an extra blanket at the foot of the bed and then goes to settle in the armchair he had been lounging in earlier.

Megumi Fushiguro was fifteen years old -- on the crux of the jujutsu battle of the century (and more), finally meeting the father he assumed was long dead, and hormonal. It was a crime for anyone to be burdened with so much, experiencing so much in such a short amount of time, and a teenager trying to keep a level head through out it all was a downright sin. Even for someone as rational and solemn as Megumi, he was struggling. Bad. Satoru Gojo knew his boundaries and, of course, chose when to abide by them or break through it.

His sister was the only other person who knew how to handle him through the bad and the good. Megumi naturally thought it was all bad. He was odd and while he didn't want to change who he was, he did realize people preferred not to deal with him. He as prickly as an urchin and his father who returned from death didn't know him. He didn't know him like his benefactor and his sister knew him.

There was something painful in that of course, but more than that in made the boy flustered. His father had remained half a world away for all he knew, so WHY did he have to say such things and touch him. From head to toe the boy felt his body temperature rise several degrees as his cheeks flushed dangerously hot. A sea urchin with a nasty rash. He whipped his head away having never reacted in such a way. He didn't even blush when one of his classmates showed him an x-rated photoshoot of an idol; actually, he hadn't even blinked but he did turn away with slight disgust.

“ .... You can't say that. ”

It was his father who was bringing out new sides of Megumi by crossing lines he didn't know were in place. He was more than glad Toji had turned away because he must have looked more ridiculous than he felt. Without another word for fear of making himself look more clownish, the teenager darted for the bathroom and shut the door with perhaps more force than necessary. He gripped the counter of the sink and looked at his red face; he felt even more embarrassed. He was a boy and not pretty. Even as a boy he wasn't handsome or particularly good looking, unlike his fa--- Megumi groaned, then fearing he was too loud, pushed off the counter for the massive floor to ceiling shower.

He turned the faucet to the cold setting then rushed to strip of his clothes. Oh yeah, his father had changed him. His entire body felt hot and weird. Clothes were dropped in a messy pile once they were ripped off his body without a care for his wounds. Under the powerful but freezing spray, Megumi shivered but stuck it out. It helped soothe the worst of his abrasions and wounds but it did little to wash away his embarrassment. Toji's broad chest, the way his scar quirked, his large hands pinching his cheeks. Damn it!

He squeezed out body wash into his palm and scrubbed himself until he thought he might actually bleed. Shoving thoughts of his father away he moved onto washing his body from toe to root, then applied a mixture of shampoo and conditioner to his hair. He watched the dirt and debris wash away in ugly swirls of grey. The faucet was turned off only when the water ran clear down his body, but he was reluctant to leave. He wrapped himself in soft and fluffy hotel towels and just stared at his bruised reflection. He looked like a mess which wasn't entirely new but it was weird that it was his father.

The teenager released a deep sigh and continued to towel dry himself especially his hair, which returned more to its spiky normalcy the more he dried it. Still, some heavy spikes hung down and just for a second.. he looked like his father. It made his heart lurch. He didn't want to wear the clothes he had been sleeping in while dirty.. especially his boxers, so he hung up the towels and slipped into a complimentary robe. It was soft and smelled clean, but would it be weird? He was too into his own head. With a resigned grimace Megumi brushed his teeth, then exited the bathroom like a toddler throwing a tantrum. He sat down on the bed with his back turned to his father and..... now what? Would they just fall asleep like it was nothing? Megumi didn't say anything, just fiddled with the ties of the bathrobe.

[jazzy-art-time]

Thanks

CW: cooties

It’s that Turkey thanks day here where I’m at. So I figured I would be that cringe fucker who gets overly insightful on today for a change.

But I figured I would sit down and tap for a second for anyone who would glance over at me today.

This past year has been, a lot for me. Good n bad and stuff but.

I wanted to say thank you to my friends. My dear friends.

I don’t think I would be the man I am right now without you and your support.

Like literally, prolly wouldn’t have been Raymond without you. You helped me test out everything and become comfortable with becoming Raymond. I can never be thankful enough for that, I’m closer to who I am and want to be even. I cannot express my thanks enough for that.

You guys support my artwork and my characters so much. You guys let me yap for so long and you let me send so many paragraphs for hours about my shitty ass stories and OCs. You’ve listened to so much Jolene Bennet and Pinky BrainRot you deserve awards. It seems silly but it means a lot to me that you guys are willing to listen to me insanity. I’m not that interesting of a person, so my characters are all I’ve got going on, it just means a lot that you are willing to listen.

You have also had to bear witness to the Birth of Jarble as well as its continued development. Which is very special to me due to why I made Jarble to begin with. It means the world that I can feel comfortable sharing it, developing it, getting tips and bouncing ideas back and forth. Jarble went from a shitty AU I made to escape from everything into something I hold dear to me. It’s special now, it might have died out and fizzled. So thank you for helping me create something special. Also the fact that I’m willing to share my writings with you guys show how much I trust y’all, my writing sucks and you are the few who get to witness it. I will say however, fuck you for the sheer amount of Jeden emojis, he haunts me and you do this to me I’ll get you /silly

As well as you guys aren’t afraid to call me out on my shit. If I’m doing something wrong, if I’m being out of line or overreacting… you call me out. You come to me and talk and help me get better as a person.

You were in the trenches with me when I became a Aggressive, Distrustful person who snapped and was going crazy because I was being stalked. Helped me gain the courage to speak out when I got doxxed by Travis. Stuck with me when I had to change antipsychotic medications and I went absolutely batshit and had to go to the hospital. When I was stuck in bed for nearly two weeks because I was practically almost dying. You guys… for whatever reason. Stuck with me.

You didn’t have to stick around, I never would’ve judged you if you did. But you stuck around, you came to me and laid it all out on the table. You told me when I was being unreasonable or that I was hurting you with my actions. You helped me when you didn’t… really have to.

And you continue to help me, I’m a better person now and I know that. I don’t think I would’ve gotten as better as I am without you.

You support me, you help me when I’m lost or confused, you talk to me… you share Garfield things with me or if I’m upset you send a picture of your dogs or just.. you do so much for me.

I am forever thankful for everything. I’m not good at expressing emotions, I never have been. So perhaps it’s all just nonsense what I’m saying or maybe I’m repeating myself, I don’t know.

But thank you.

For everything.

I love you guys and I wish I could be better at explaining it… that way I’m not dropping a mile long scientific paragraph on you every few months

And a thank you for my Followers as well.

Which sounds like, cocky or something to say. I don’t know, feels weird standing here going “AND TO MY FOLLOWERS” but it’s hm.

ANYWAYS.

Thank you lot for sticking around!

Within the past year and a half I’ve… been different! I cut off all social stuff for the longest time and then went radio silent a lot posting wise. Almost all my blogs kinda went nonexistent. I deleted a lot.

And then I randomly went ���hey guys look at this story I’m working on called Jarble. I will tell you absolutely nothing about it.”

But y’all still? Stuck around.

Which I know I’m just like, another guy on the dash posting stuff. So perhaps it isn’t that deep as I’m making it sound? I don’t know.

BUT REGARDLESS. You guys stuck around!

You guys watched as I went insane over a AU that I never said anything about. Which might’ve been annoying when you guys asked and I just never answered because I got self conscious lmaO. Yet you guys still showed interest and shared support!

When I decided to update my blogs again, welcomed me back and showed support when I expressed interest in doing stuff again.

Even welcomed me back when I decided to attempt to be social again and join discord servers! Which was… hard for me and a 1000% awkward! Cuz I went insane and then shuffled back like a fool. Yet! Here I am!

You guys keep supporting me, sending me asks and supporting me and my work despite it all

And I thank you for that! I appreciate it and it makes me feel special when you guys appear to show genuine interest in my dumb characters and stories…

I know I’m just another idiot on the feed, but it means a lot to me that you stick around and glance in my direction.

So all in all

Thank you guys.

To everyone.

End of cooties

Edit: also thanks to my fiancé I guess. Whatever. You’re sitting right across from me and I might throw a cracker at you. But you alright I guess. 🙄🙄 don’t choke on the Turkey BabyGirl

[cynthiav06]

Annabeth stans and Percabeth shippers are talking about how ooc Annabeth is in WOTTG with her thinking Percy is stupid as if she hasn't constantly made fun of Percy's intelligence since the very beginning. As if she doesn't do it in every book, multiple times. Rick's characterization of Annabeth isn't changing, people are finally just growing up and realizing their fave ship when they were 12 isn't healthy. But instead of actually acknowledging that it's a bad ship they just blame the author.

Warnings: This is going to be a rant; bear with me. People from the "take everything as a personal offense" group stop reading. Will give us both the luxury of a peaceful mind.

It's easier to blame Rick, I think, given his series of shit decisions. The Wrath of a Triple Goddess is a complete abomination, and so is Chalice of the Gods in many ways. But at least it has helped readers understand the glaring flaws of Percabeth as a ship. How Percy's character is butchered to hype up Annabeth.

And I am completely exhausted of trying to get any of them to think rationally and in an unbiased manner. I can't make a willfully blind individual see sense after all.

But yeah, Annabeth has many, and I mean many character flaws throughout the series. The number of times I have made a post on Annabeth's flaws or even why Percabeth is incompatible.... At this point, I believe open-minded and careful readers are going to see and make their own conclusions, and the blind shippers will keep doing their own thing. This , I think, was my most recent post and will probably be one of my last ones on a similar topic. Unless I get newer asks that have some different viewpoints that I can actually explore cause, all has been said so far, I think.

I had a feeling that things would get better as they got older, more mature, you know, an Annabeth character arc of some sort. Maybe exploring the positive and negative nuances of Percabeth or even Percy's suicidal thoughts, non existent self esteem and how Annabeth has been unknowingly feeding into those.

She is one of the more iconic characters to people even outside the fandom. One from a very, very , and exclusive pool of actually strong female characters and the way her character is devolving isn't helping anything.

-------------------------------------------------------

All of Riordan's characters have such high potential, and the amount of plots he could explore is staggering, and yet he still dishes out the same generic plot again and again. He is in it for the money now, has been for a while, and so there's no hope there.

This might be a very hot take, but I think romance ruined the series. Rick kept slapping romantic relationships on every character as if that would suddenly make things better. Give them a relationship rather than explore their trauma. I guess it's the easier of the two.

But seriously, Caleo? Jiper? Solangelo ? (I can see the hate comments already). Whatever he was doing with Reyna, but at least she wasn't completely butchered.

Rick's problem is that he keeps giving more importance to romantic relationships and makes that the entire personality of a character.

He butchered Percy, even Jason at times, Leo bloody Valdez and Nico more prominently.

The way Percy and Nico's very deep and volatile bond and heavily dynamic relationship was butchered and distorted to feed into Solangelo and Percabeth, and I can't possibly understate how highly that's been going on.

Then Luke and Thalia's relationship was completely butchered for no absolute reason. I have no idea why. They were in love or at least had romantic feelings for each other, and Thalia just woke up and wanted to kill him? He literally gave all the angst to Annabeth even though Thalia had known him longer, and they had a more nuanced bond.

Jason's relationship with Camp Jupiter individuals was completely scrapped, his and Reyna's dynamic completely watered down, or even his and Leo's great friendship discarded all for Jiper or whatever else was shoved at him.

-------------------------------------------------------

As opposed to this whole shit show, I loved the relationships in the Magnus Chase series and Kane Chronicles. That was good stuff. Both character relationships and romantic ones even though I am pretty sure he got a lot of diverse representation wrong or so I have read recently.

Then there's the stupid, blind, bigot part of the fandom that just can't help themselves. I mean dumb Percy takes, Annabeth stans ruining Percy's character arcs and overinflating Annabeth's character, which in turn made Rick do the same.Then the boring Jason thing? What the hell was that? It's like everyone missed the point of why Jason is the way he is. I am going to make a post on that soon, but seriously, the shit that's been going on.

Then the shippers. Solangelo stans and Percabeth stans. They have single handedly ruined the ships for me with their distorted ideas of character dynamics. And their blatant and brutal hate against other Percy or Nico ships is just ridiculous and heavily toxic.

It's a fandom, not a monopoly. Everyone can have their own little thing as long as you don't meddle in someone else's own thing. Let everyone enjoy their own thing.

And for all our sakes, at this point, just pick your own version of canon. Choose which books to stop at. Trust me, it's less frustrating that way.

[ranahan]

i've been pondering how mando'a-as-first-language speakers might tend to parse [θ] and [ð]... we know <x> = <sh> thanks to ryan kaufmann (which i'd say must be canon enough since traviss didn't contradict it) and [f ~ p] and [z ~ s] from Traviss, (and maybe <vh> = [f] at least dialectally a la Vhett -> Fett, but I'd prefer to think that's more a matter of Basic speakers parsing [ɸ] as [f] than [ɸ ~ f] being widespread in mando'a) but I don't think we have any data on how they'd tend to parse [θ] and [ð]. I like the idea of th-fronting where [θ] becomes [ɸ] and [ð] becomes [v ~ ʋ] (Kiwi English is allegedly developing this phenomenon), but since mando'a phonotactics don't seem to allow [ɸ] outside of a syllable-initial position (of course since vhe- words are the only example we have of <vh> the data is a biiit limited, but if we assume it's true) I do wonder how likely mando'ade would be to parse, for example, the [θ] in "cloth" as [ɸ], or if they'd be more likely to parse it as [t] or [s]. Tho I do also like the th-fronting bc I wanna distance <vh> from <f> as much as possible :') Not a cipher! 🗞️

On the other hand I'm a bit charmed by [θ] -> [s] as well, mostly bc I associate it with the Askie pronunciation of ת‎, historically [θ] which has in different regions either remained as such or become [t] (Modern Israeli) or [s] (Askenazi). But then the lack of [z] for [ð] (since [s] and [z] are not readily differentiated among mando'ade) makes it less ideal imo. I mean ofc they could be mismatchy, it's not like [ð] and [θ:] were replaced with other sounds neatly and evenly in Finnish (and there's that variation across dialects, which of course would be a thing among mando'ade as well--) But yeah, [ð] could be, if not [v ~ ʋ], then [d] or even [ɾ] or [l]... for obvious reasons I find the idea of the [ɾ] realisation pretty charming :')

anyway, uh, thoughts?

(yes i am thinking abt this bc loan words mostly)

(also. while generally i prefer [f] -> [p], ~kevhe [or whatever final vowel would be best...] for caf is much nicer than kep, lol...)

I’m afraid your ask is going to be better thought out than my answer!

I did think about the same thing, then thought about the option of ð being loaned as dh in Mando’a, and then got hung up in determining what the heck Mando’a phonology even is, and what do the dh etc. spellings stand for. And then never really got back to loanwords.

But now that I’ve found an answer that satisfies me, I do have a whole bunch of things I’d like to loan to Mando’a actually, because I for one don’t buy that a language of an empire, itself a creole (if you subscribe to that headcanon), does not have many loanwords. You know that joke about English mugging other languages and riffling through their pockets for loose vocabulary? I think it would be more realistic for people to make similar jokes about Mando’a, and how Mandalorians plundered half of the galaxy and half of the dictionaries too. (Yes, this is the hill someone else will die on.)

Anyways, yes I do have thoughts. Sorry this is going to be very long and rambling because these are more of immediate thoughts rather than something I’ve formed a considered opinion on.

Like you, I’ve also noted that vh only occurs in syllable initial position in the Mando’a dictionary. But! There’s a Mandalorian world called Ceravh, which as far as I can tell comes from Traviss. I’d give that even odds of being Mando’a or being (perhaps a Mandalorianised version of) a native name of the colonised world, which could indicate that Mando’a could use syllable-final vh in loanwords at least.

But anyways, another option I have thought about is that a word-final φ could get loaned as v. Even if Mando’a doesn’t allow a syllable final φ, the voiced counterpart v is very common in that position. So e.g. caf > kav. Or heck, how about h? > kah. Idk how sensible h would be, it just popped into my mind as something that could sound similar and is allowed in the coda.

Another option of course is that Mando’a could insert extra vowels into loanwords, like e.g. te reo Māori which basically keeps all of the original sounds and adds vowels until the word conforms to te reo phonotactics. So e.g. caf > kavha or kevhe or whatever the vowels would be. There’s this quote, which has a different context, but be used as a precedent if you wanted? “Pronouncing terminal consonants varies in songs. They often become extra syllables. For examples, tor becomes to-rah and tang becomes tan-gah to maintain rhythm and meter.”

On the other hand, loanwords, especially old ones, could also be subject to Mando’a’s habit of contraction. Which tbh seems as much fanon as canon to me in that canon shows some contraction and elision (especially in compound words), but fanon has observed that pattern and taken it as a licence to go an extra mile. I kind of love that kind of an emergency and it’s what got me interested in Mando’a in the first place. I digress, but I’m trying to say faithfully borrowing every single sound is not necessarily the way I’d go for Mando’a. Maybe borrowing syllables as the closest equivalents would feel better? Idk, maybe I’ll try a couple of different approaches with some test sets of loanwords and see what happens.

I do generally like f > p, but… Idk, the results don’t always compel me? They don’t sound unlike Mando’a, but also not exactly like Mando’a either? I mean kav feels more like Mando’a than kap to me. Same for vhervhek vs perpek (although for obvious reasons, perpek does appeal as a curse). But on the other hand, fan > pan vs van vs vhan? Not much of a difference. And Fi > Pai, Felucia > Pelucya/Pelusha, even Falleen > Palin/Paliin do sound good to me. This is probably because while there are words that end in p (like kotep, taap), they are pretty rare. While words ending in v or beginning with a p are a dime in a dozen.

I agree that Vhett being spelled as Fett is a transliteration from Mando’a to Basic, and not necessarily indicative of how Mando’a L1 speakers would adapt loanwords from Basic to Mando’a.

Re: θ/ð, I’ve previously considered t/dʰ, but I like both s and th-fronting better! Those would be the closest fricatives, wouldn’t they.

Mando’a doesn’t seem to have /z/, which seems to be an allophone of /ts/ rather than /s/, if you go by Traviss’s recordings. Or maybe it’s an allophone of /s/, if you go by some comments. Heck, maybe it depends on the dialect. So perhaps you could go with s/ts, or level them both as s? I guess it would depend on whether z gets loaned as ts or s?

Or go with th-fronting (θ > ɸ, ð > v) in syllable initial positions, and for the coda, either voice the θ > v, or add an extra vowel after it, or allow φ in the coda for loanwords. I think that at least for dialects that realise <v> as [β], th-fronting sounds really close. I like it!

And since some Mando’a dialects seem to have [b ~ v] (or perhaps more likely [v ~ β], or maybe some dialect has /β/ which is heard as /b/ in some others…), after making the rounds in Mando’a dialects, a loan word might even end up with ð > v > b.

Full disclosure, I also like how either would make loanwords a little less immediately recognisable. But on the other hand, loanword phonology is also affected by the speakers’ understanding of the donor language, which might bias e.g. /t/ over /s/. Idk though how much we need to nitpick realism in an artlang though. Enough to ground it, not so much the art goes out.

And then we of course have the loan words Traviss picked from English:

besom /ˈbiː.zəm/ > besom /ˈbɛ.sɔm/

Bergen /ˈbəɹɡn/ > birgaan /bɪɾ.ɡaːn/

TAB /tæb/ > taab /taːb/

hyem /jɛm/> yaim /ʝaɪ̯m/

charva /ˈt͡ʃɑːvə/ > chaav’la /ˈt͡ʃɑːv.la/

chebs /tʃɛbs/ > shebs /ʃɛbs/

scran /skɹan/ > skraan /skɾaːn/

scunner /ˈska.nɐ/ > skanah /ska.nah/

(Geordie) way aye /ˈwaɪ.eɪ/ or (Pompey) weee /wiː/ > wayii /wa.jiː/

dinny /ˈdɪ.nɪ/> dinii /dɪ.niː/

jack /d͡ʒæk/ > jag /d͡ʒaɡ/ ?

(I’m not counting mhi and kando from that linked post, since they—or at least kandosii—are pre-Traviss Mando’a.)

Bit of a guess at the pronunciations because I’m not a Geordie and Traviss doesn’t do IPA, but I’m getting the feeling that the vowel qualities don’t match up that well. I might have loaned Bergen as *bargen or *begen instead. Besom i > ɛ I can excuse as levelling the vowels to the same height, which seems like something Mando’a is prone to. ɛ > aɪ̯ is interesting. But generally, I’m not sure what I’m looking at here? Maybe just artistic licence?

Of course if actual historical loans, we’d have to consider that those words might’ve been loaned from a dialect or at a time when the pronunciation differed from modern/RP pronunciation. Plus I at least like to think that Mando’a itself has many different dialects, so I’d be willing to excuse a degree of artistic licence and inconsistency, especially when it comes to vowels which are more fluid to begin with. Afaik it’s also not weird for natural languages to exhibit even considerable variation in loan word adaptation.

Ch is loaned both as ch and sh. Syllable-final r seems infrequently loaned (birgaan) or not (chaav’la) or loaned as h (skanah)—perhaps this reflects the (non)rhoticity of the dialect from which the loans came from, because Mando’a does have syllable-final r’s. Otherwise the consonants in these words seem unremarkable.

Talking about r though, I think there are some words in Mando’a where n > r in certain environments (or at least that could explain some etymologies). I guess it wouldn’t be too much a stretch to extend that to d and maybe ð. You can hear [kote], [kode] and [koɾe] or the Republic Commando OST. Imo this is simply the effect of singing on pronunciation (I was a trained singer once upon a time, I could go on about this), but Traviss seems to have taken it as t and d being interchangeable, or /kode/ being the archaic pronunciation and /kote/ modern.

Also as an aside, I kinda want to work out the phonetics of Huttese, because clearly Huttese (or trade/pidgin/creole Huttese, whatever they speak as a lingua franca in the Outer Rim) has lots of Basic loanwords, and I think that many Basic loanwords would probably arrive to Mando’a via Huttese rather than directly from Basic.

tldr: You have seem to have thought more about this than me. Do you have more thoughts? I’m not sure how much sense my reply made; it was bit of a brain vomit. I’ll probably go read some things and come back to this later with hopefully more sense, but I wanted to reply now because I’m not sure how busy I’ll be in the near future.

P.s. you wouldn’t happen to remember where you read about <x> = <sh>, [f ~ p] and [s ~ z]? I mean I remember reading some of those same things, but it was at least a year ago and I don’t seem to have saved the source (whoops). I can probably look up the source myself if you remember where it was. Might it have been this forum thread? “So, Xaga might have been "Shaga" (incorporating that "sh" sound the Mando like) and Zuka could've been Suka.”

[em1i2a3]

I Saw You In A Dream (Part One of Two)

Bjorn x fem!reader

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! I’m really getting into this format right now and I am honestly loving this community a lot! I wrote this one kind of out of the blue, but I broke it up into two parts because I was really wanting to build things up more. For this particular part I was hoping to bring some aspects of Alien Isolation into this by including the Seegson Synthetics (or the ‘Working Joes’), but don’t worry it isn’t that integral to the plot, and I’m trying to not touch the lore too much. I hope you guys enjoy this first part though, I will be working on this and many more so keep an eye out for the updates :)

Warnings: Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Blood/Surgical Procedures, Some Angst, and a little tiny bit of fluff, no smut in this chapter, keep an eye out for the next part tho hehe.

A P.S From the Writer: The title is taken from a song by The Japanese House. I typically listen to music when I write to put me in a good headspace so the song that I tune into to wrap up the chapter usually inspires the title. I will probably make a playlist at some point.

Word Count: 5,615 (Another chunky one!)

The blueprints were laid out on the table. The only light that illuminated the trailer was just above where everyone was sitting.

”This.” Tyler points with the edge of his pen, “Is where we would enter.” He instructed.

”How do you know the doors will even be open?” Bjorn chimed in, interrupting the game plan Tyler was trying to lay out for the team.

“Because I’ve scoped out the place already. You think I’m going to send you in without knowing the ins and outs of the fucking place?” Bjorn shrugged.

”Don’t know, that’s why I asked.” He shot back, walking away from the blueprints. You glanced over at him, watching him settle on the couch with a rough sigh, extending his arm out across the top, getting himself into a comfortable position away from everyone.

”Bjorn, you know you’re gonna have to look the blueprints over to actually know where the fuck you’re going right?” Navarro commented, staring daggers at him from over her shoulder.

”I’m sure I’ll be able to get a play-by-play from all of you, so I’ll stay right here, thank you.” He responded.

“This is an abandoned Weyland-Yutani building Bjorn. We need to be on our fucking game if we don’t want to get caught, now is not the time to have one of your fits.” You said, the backs of your ankles hitting gently against the cabinets below where you were sitting. You knew Tyler had been planning this for a while, and he had worked hard to obtain the blueprints of the place. Not only that, but you knew he was worried about Bjorn copping an attitude, he always did that when he was either jealous or when he didn’t have anything better to do with his time. In this situation, you couldn’t tell why he was being this way.

“If it’s abandoned I’m sure we won’t have any issues, honey.” He smirked. You could feel your blood begin to boil, as your cheeks turned a blush red. He definitely knew how to push everyone’s buttons.

”You think nobody has the same idea of scavenging the place for parts?” Tyler’s voice was filled with disbelief, taken aback by how stupid one person could be. “This is basically a suicide mission if we don’t have a plan. It could be a trap for all we know.”

“Then why are we even trying?” Bjorn questioned, trying to catch Tyler on his own words, his grip tightened on the table, and his teeth bit the flesh on the inside of his lip.

”Because if we don’t try we will be slaves to the corporation for the rest of our fucking lives. If you want that, then you can suit yourself, but we are willing to give it a try.” He said, motioning to the group. At this point everyone was staring at Bjorn, trying to see if any of his features were indicating that he was going to give in and return to his spot at the table, but when he didn’t budge, Tyler just continued with explaining the plan.

————

“Do you know why he was being such a dick today?” Kay asked, leaning against your workstation, looking down on you, watching as your hands worked on fixing your headlamp. You shook your head, wiping the sweat off your forehead, making a note that you needed to find some spare parts to fix your fan.

“I don’t really care, he’s gonna get himself killed if he comes with us though, that’s all I know.” You commented, your nimble fingers working to rewire one of the cords that had been fried. A pang of silence slipped into the room, as you glanced up at her, seeing a small frown appear on her lips. “What? What do you want me to do? Talk to him? Convince him to ask Tyler to show him the blueprints and go over the plan again with him?” You said, the disbelief in your voice almost palpable.

”Rain, Navarro and I have already tried, and Andy….Well you know he won’t take well to Andy.” She says, watching you lean back in your chair so you can get a better look at her, seeing the hidden desperation in her pleading brown eyes. Even though Bjorn could be an asshole at times she still cared about him, and she wanted to make sure that he was going to be safe. Kay would always tell you that family was family regardless of how stupid or mean they could be at times, this was one of those times. You placed the headlamp down on the desk with a defeated sigh.

”Fine…I’ll try, but I’m not promising you anything, if he walks back in with a black eye, don’t blame me. He really pushed my buttons today.” You replied, standing up from your seat, grabbing your sweater, cigarettes and lighter from your work area. She nodded with an understanding smile.

”I know he isn’t fun to be around most of the time, but whether you like it or not we need to have each other's backs, even if it may be hard.” You pulled the sweater over your head, fluffing your hair up, and shaking out the static, shoving your hands into the big pocket to make sure the fabric was covering your oil-stained tank top.

“Yeah, yeah I get it.” You sighed, “I’m gonna go have a cigarette, I’ll update you if my approach works.” She nodded, as you walked by her, down the cramped space of your work area, managing to shift by all the things that you had stacked by the door. You stumbled out into the living room area of the trailer, pushing open the door to step outside onto the makeshift porch you all pitched in to create. You were surprised to see that Bjorn was already outside smoking, sitting on one of the crates everyone used as chairs, watching people go by in their machines. The bright work lights above you were dimmed as the workers were trying to fix the generators that powered them, which allowed your eyes to easily adjust to the surroundings.

“Hey,” You greeted causally. Bjorn glanced over at you, eyebrows going up at your voice as you took up your spot on the other side of the door, leaving a large gap between the two of you. Your hands dug around the pocket of your sweater, slipping one of the cigarettes out of your previously opened pack, and retrieving your lighter in the process. You wrapped your lips around the filter, shifting slightly to get it positioned well before bringing the flame up to the end, breathing in as you lit it. You slid the lighter back in with your pack, and pulled the cigarette away from your lips, blowing the smoke out.

“Y’know, if you’re out here to talk to me about getting on my knees and begging Tyler for forgiveness so he can show me the blueprints and go over the plan again, I’m not gonna do it.” You looked over at him, motioning to your cigarette.

”Does it look like I’m out here to talk to you about that? You made your choice, I’m not here to coddle you like the people in there do.” You commented, shifting your head to the trailer, “They actually care about you.”

“And you?” He pressed, the end of his cigarette glowing, as he took a deep drag, his cheeks hollowing out while doing so. You shrugged.

”Me? I’m indifferent. Couldn’t care less what you choose to do, but I always have to play middleman and run interference when you get out of hand.” You lied. Even when Bjorn was being an absolute trouble maker you still had that little piece of yourself that wanted to make sure he was okay and safe, and breathing. You were hard on yourself and practically refused to admit that it was more than just a friendly concern you had for him. He rolled his eyes, pulling the cigarette away from his lips, forcing the smoke out of his mouth as he spoke.

”Yeah but you don’t have to do that.” He states.

”I’m sorry, it seems like you haven’t met your cousin Kay before, maybe I should introduce you to her sometime.” You shot back, flicking some ashes off onto the ground below you, crossing an arm over your torso. He smirked.

“I’ll repeat myself again sweetheart, since it seems like you didn’t hear me the first time. You don’t have to do that.” Your eyes shot daggers at him, watching his tongue lick his bottom lip, moistening it. “You always have the option to say no, you just choose to step in 'cause that’s the way you show you care.” He stated.

”No. That’s the way I keep the peace.” You emphasized, taking a quick drag “And fix your stupid mistakes.” You added, blowing the smoke out in the process.

“My mistakes?” He exclaimed, pointing at himself, a laugh escaping his throat, “You’re fucking ridiculous love.” You kicked around some rocks that surrounded you, as you stepped toward where Bjorn sat, watching his back straighten.

”Remember the time the mines laid you off 'cause you wouldn’t stop fucking around on the job?” He glanced away from you, looking down at the ground, the rocks crunching under your feet as you leaned into the crate he was sitting on with the side of your hip. “Tyler called, told me all about it, he was revved up because you didn’t have anything else apart from that to fall back on, asked me for a favour to help you out, and practically begged me.” You inhaled against the filter feeling a gentle burn in your lungs, breathing out a cloud of smoke. Bjorn’s eyes returned to you, watching your movements closely, examining your facial features, the way your pupils were blown out due to the dim lighting, and how your lips pursed as you continued the trip down memory lane.

“I refused to help at first, you put yourself into that situation so why should I care? Then all the others called me, and I couldn’t stand it. So I called your manager and made a trade with him to fix some equipment. He hired you back the very next day...Do you remember?” You could see his jaw clench in the dim lighting.

”Yeah. I remember. Didn’t know that was you, I thought I-“

”Was just that important?” You interrupted, your eyes meeting his shiny blue irises, catching him staring, a smirk drawing up on the corners of your mouth as you took another drag from your cigarette, blowing it off to the side out of courtesy, shaking your head. “No. He was adamant about keeping you away from the place actually. It took a lot of convincing.” Bjorn bit the inside of his cheek, tapping off the excess ash onto the rocks below him.

“The people in there knew how much you needed that job to keep you distracted. They care about you.” You took a moment to take another drag, breathing out before leaning in close to him, almost as if you were going to kiss him. “My honest recommendation for you would be to go in there and ask Tyler to go through that plan before you get yourself killed…Because that will be one mistake I won’t be able to fix.” Your voice was smooth, and sultry in a way even if the context of the conversation didn’t fit that type of tone. It made Bjorn’s stomach twist in knots hearing it change so quickly. He dragged his teeth along his bottom lip. You tilted your head a bit, before leaning in even closer, swaying to the side right when you were in close enough proximity so your mouth was at his ear. You pressed the cigarette out on the metal of the trailer, hearing a gentle hiss. Bjorn closed his eyes a disappointed sigh exiting his mouth, feeling your warm breath tickle his ear. “Thought I was gonna do something else?” You asked, leaning back to put your unfinished cigarette into your pocket, a playful smirk dusting your lips, as you shook your head, seeing his dazed eyes studying you.

“In your dreams Bjorn.”

———-

It was you, Tyler, Bjorn, Rain, Andy, and Navarro standing outside the fence that surrounded the abandoned Weyland building the next week. Kay had come down with a fever that day, so she stayed behind to recover and keep the trailer under supervision.

”Andy, you’re with me in the basement, we have to see if there’s anything valuable in the computer system. Rain, Navarro, you two stay together, search through the first two levels.” Tyler paused, looking over at you apologetically, “You and Bjorn will go to the top floor.” You nodded at him sharply, as he threw over a walkie-talkie to you. “Keep in touch, okay?” You slipped the communication device into your pocket, adjusting your headlamp.

”We will meet back here in an hour, right?” You asked, making sure all the plans were understood. Tyler nodded. You sighed, looking over at Bjorn, “Alright, let’s get going.” Motioning your head towards the hole in the fence that Tyler had stretched out a few moments before, fixing the handgun that you had strapped on your thigh. Bjorn crouched down, sneaking underneath the secret entrance as you followed closely behind. You glanced over your shoulder, giving the crew one last look before running towards the building.

From the outside, the building looked like it had been out of commission for decades, even though it had been a mere month since the corporation had let all its employees go. None of the security lights were on, and the emergency lights that were backups for the outage were barely working, this allowed the both of you to easily sneak in through the side door.

The inside of the building looked as if time had stopped within it. Papers were still strewn about the desks, coffee mugs half full with films of mold encrusting the liquid that remained at the bottom of them, and of course brochures with advertisements painted on them, promoting their featured items; insurance, synthetics, and computers.

“How’s it looking?” Tyler’s voice echoed from the walkie-talkie. You dug into your pocket and brought the mic up to your mouth.

”Looks like a building that was owned by a multimillion-dollar corporation. Making our way up to the top level now, I’ll call you if I need you.” You stated, sliding the device back into your pocket, tilting your head towards the emergency stairway.

”There’s an elevator right there.” Bjorn pointed out, you paused.

”Yeah? And this is an abandoned fucking building. If you want to risk getting stuck in there by all means go ahead…I’m gonna take the stairs.” He sighed.

”Always your way or the highway huh?” He commented, pushing by you to go towards the door, once again with you trailing behind him closely. You turned on your headlamp, and walked up in silence, your hand holding the handle of your gun, making sure you were prepared if you ran into anything. By the time you reached the top level, Bjorn was winded, hunching over his knees to catch his breath.

”My god that was a fucking workout.” He said, wheezing slightly. You stared down at him, your eyebrows raising at the way he tried to stabilize himself. It took him a few minutes to finally get his breathing under control before he stood up straight, his face darkened by the blood that had rushed to his head from the positioning, a sigh escaping his lips.

“You good now princess?” You asked mocking the nickname that he used with some people, catching him off guard.

”Yeah yeah. I’m fine.” He brushed the comment off, pushing against the door of the top floor, walking into the dimly lit room, with you following. “Jesus fucking Christ,” Bjorn murmured, you looked up at him, then followed his gaze to what he was going on about. It was a room full of desks, and different designs for synthetics, with a wide range of styles, big, and small, from human-looking to robotic and many more. One of the models stood out more than the most, one that you had never seen before. They were scattered among the rest, but you couldn’t recognize the make even though you had done extensive research on Weyland's production scheme, their goal of making the synthetics as human-looking as possible. These were extremely far away from that goal. The models looked cold and rubbery, the pale blue finish making your spine straighten. No wonder they wanted to make them look human, You thought.

“Just our fucking luck we get sent to a level that has a bunch of synthetics.” Bjorn pressed his fingers into the sides of his head, continuing to rifle off expletives as you grabbed the walkie-talkie.

”Tyler, we’re on the top level.” You informed, trying to make it quick so he didn’t catch Bjorn’s rant, but to no avail.

”What’s going on up there? What’s all the noise?” His voice was muffled, cutting in and out. You figured he might have been going down into the basement and losing connection.

”There’s synthetics up here.” You whispered, your eyes following Bjorn’s rapid, and chaotic pacing, his hands running through his hair nervously. There was a beat of silence, as you pressed down on the side of the device again, “Hello?” You mumbled, realizing that you lost connection. You slid the walkie-talkie back into your pocket, ignoring Bjorn’s panic, your eyes scanned the surrounding area, your hand clenching the gun on your leg once again. From where you were standing you could see files on each desk with prototype names written down on bright green sticky notes. You moved towards one of them, flipping it open to look at the typed notes that you assumed the developer had written out, trying to find any information you could on the state the synthetic was in.

“-Fucking stupid goddamn things are gonna kill us.” You turned your attention back to Bjorn, watching him seethe. You knew he had always had a weird thing about synthetics, and you didn’t blame him, he didn’t have a positive experience with any of them, except Andy, and that was saying something. He always toted the line of tolerating his presence, but this reaction was overboard even to his standards.

“Bjorn-” You cut in.

“I knew this was a bad idea, I fucking knew we were going to run into something like this-”

“Bjorn!” You yelled over him, causing his voice to cut off mid-sentence, stopping him dead in his tracks, “They’re not going to turn on.” You lifted the file in the air for him to look at what you were reading, “Their software isn’t even installed yet, they’re just the shells.” You threw the papers on the table, now going through the drawers, shuffling the contents around to see if there was anything that could be of use.

“H-How do you know that all of them are like that?” He stuttered out, slowly moving towards you, hoping that if anything were to happen there would be an advantage in numbers. His eyes glanced over at the synthetic you stood beside, the hazy blue skin tone practically glowing in the darkness that surrounded the both of you. A shiver went up his spine, seeing the unnaturally empty look the eyes had.

“Well, we’ll just keep checking the files and searching the desks for parts. The power is out in the building so I don’t think-.” Suddenly the sound of the bright fluorescent lights turning on interrupted your explanation, your eyes burning from your pupils trying to adjust to the harsh change, a conjoined hiss echoing between you and Bjorn. The low hum of the computers turning on grabbed your attention immediately, you glanced up at the screen to look at what was loading, not knowing what kind of codes were popping up.

“You were saying?” Bjorn commented, looking over your shoulder so he could see what you were seeing, not realizing how close he was to your exposed neck, his hot breath causing your skin to become sticky. You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, ignoring the feeling, a loud locking noise echoing through the space.

“Fuck.” You muttered, running over to the emergency staircase door, pushing against it, not feeling any give to it, “Oh fuck.” Bjorn let out a forced laugh.

“We’re fucking screwed.” He leaned against the desk, his head tilted back to look at the ceiling. “We are so FUCKING screwed!” He screamed, kicking the synthetic in front of him causing it to fall onto the ground, unplugging from the computer. You flinched at his outburst.

“Bjorn calm down, please…” He looked over at you, his head shaking back and forth.

“Calm down? We are stuck in a fucking room chalked FULL of synthetics. We have no idea what their directives are, and we don’t have communications with that stupid fuckhead in the basement. Then you tell me to calm down?!” He yelled, staring down at the synthetic he had kicked. You stood against the door, grabbing the walkie-talkie out of your pocket, and pressing down on the button on the side, hands shaking from all the screaming as you kept your eyes locked on Bjorn’s.

“Tyler…Are you there?” The room's silence was deafening at that point, all you could hear was the faint buzzing of the fluorescent lights. From the other end of the line all you could hear was static, the sound of something scraping against the mic. “Tyler god damn it are you there?!” You snapped, noticing a pair of eyes begin to glow a dim red in the distance, your breath hitching in your throat. Bjorn could see your facial expressions change, twisting and forming into something filled with sheer panic. All your skin had lost colour, and you turned pale, almost translucent, your breathing speeding up, as you tried to get yourself back into check. “Tyler please, if you can hear me, we are locked in on the top level…We need help.” Your voice was in a low whisper, your eyes still trained on the synthetic that began to tap around its body, trying to locate the plug that kept it connected to the computer as you slowly slid yourself down the door. The thought of their directives now coming into perspective.

“W-What are you doing?” Bjorn questioned, moving towards you, a confused look appearing on his face. You were shaking your head, watching another set of eyes glow red, and another.

“Bjorn…Get down.” You said through gritted teeth, your hand going towards your gun again. He crouched onto his knees, getting in front of you, looking at your frantic eye movements, now drawing his attention to what you were looking at.

“Fuck.” Was all he could manage to get out as one of the synthetics unplugged itself, its head slowly, methodically, turning side to side, like it was scanning the area. You were about to say something but Bjorn’s hand clasped against your mouth tightly, his eyes glaring over at you, the pointer finger of his other hand coming up to his lips, signalling for you to be quiet.

“Get under a desk.” He mouthed, “And don’t make a sound.” He added, watching you nod, his hand slowly leaving your mouth, your eyes searching his for a moment before shifting onto your knees, and crawling towards one of the nearby desks, trying your best to be as quiet as possible. Your ears were in tune with how the synthetics slowly began to move around, not making a noise, like they were trying to be as sneaky as you and Bjorn. Your movements were quick as you shoved yourself under the nearest desk, your back pressed up against the hardwood, hoping that you were hidden enough. You looked across the way, seeing Bjorn take his spot across from you, under his separate spot, his eyes trailing over to you almost like he was silently checking in. From behind the desk, you could hear two objects drop to the ground, the sound of feet shuffling entering the environment soon after. Bjorn’s gaze locked in above the desk, his jaw tightening as he observed what was going on above you.

“Guys. Are you there?” Tyler’s voice echoed through the walkie-talkie line, your hand immediately grabbing it out of your pocket to turn it off, but it was too late. The synthetic had already made its way around the desk in one swift movement.

“We are only here to help.” The modulated voice said, grabbing onto your wrist as it dragged you out from under the desk, tugging you up onto your feet, “Just hold still.” Then everything went black.

---------

“Tyler, drive for fuck sake, I don’t know if he’s breathing.” Rain’s voice ripped through the darkness.

“I’m trying!” He yelled back. You could feel your head pulsing as it lulled to the side, your neck feeling limp. You struggled to take in a breath without your lungs feeling like they were about to collapse. A whistling sound escaped your throat as you tried to breathe in and out..

“Andy what’s going on with her back there?!” Navarro’s voice echoed through the truck, sounding exhausted as the wheels hit three consecutive bumps in a row, shaking everyone in the enclosed space.

“She may have an internal bleed of some sort, I hear wheezing, and she is cold to the touch.” He responded calmly, feeling his hands run down the sides of your ribcage, a low cry escaping your lips as he touched what you presumed to be a bruise on your right side. “Rain, I don’t know what is happening.” Andy’s voice trembled slightly, turning you to your left, as a louder, more guttural cry echoed through the space, your chest feeling like it was being ripped out from your flesh. Your lungs were on fire, as your mouth opened, trying to suck in as much oxygen as possible, another whistling noise accompanying your breaths. A high-pitched moan now joined in with the noises you were making. You tried to force your eyes open, but nothing was working.

“Bjorn…It’s okay, we are all here, just calm down, you’re in the truck.” Rain explained, you could feel Andy’s fingers press down onto one area of your ribcage, tapping against them.

“Rain I think she’s got blood around her lungs, the sounds are dull, she won’t be able to breathe properly until we relieve the pressure and remove the clot-.” Andy’s words caught in his throat, as there was aggressive movement happening from in front of you.

“Bjorn, relax man, don’t move, we will take care of her.” Navarro said softly “She’s gonna be alright.” You couldn’t make out what he was trying to say, but you could hear his voice, the hoarseness of it, the jumbled wording coming out like gibberish. From the darkness you could hear things being moved around, hearing someone searching for something.

”Andy here. Take this. Do what you need to do to keep her alive.” Rain interrupted, her tone firm. You felt your sweater go up, as cold fingertips pressed into your ribcage, trying to locate the space between. He stopped momentarily, keeping his finger on the spot. You could hear shuffling, and then the sharp tip of a blade pressing into the spot Andy had found. A screech escaping your throat.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Andy repeated over and over again, as he dug his finger into the slit it made, creating a bigger hole, tearing your flesh. You could feel hot sticky blood run down your skin, as he removed his finger, replacing it with something hard and plastic, threading it through.

“What the fuck are you doing to her?! Get your fucking hands off of her!” Bjorn yelled, his voice muffled by something, you couldn’t tell if it was your ears or something that was physically wrong with him that was causing his words to sound like that.

“Bjorn, he is helping her…Look at the tube.” Rain said, there was movement once again, as your chest began to feel less and less weighed down, until finally you could draw in a sharp breath, letting the air fill your lungs with ease.

————

The first thing you heard when you regained consciousness was the soft snoring of someone. It was calm, quiet, soothing in a way. You moved slightly, as pain shot up your side, a hiss escaping your throat. You could feel that you were propped up with a few pillows behind your back, as you forced your eyes open, the dim light of your cramped room coming into focus. You swallowed, taking in your surroundings, noticing Bjorn sitting at your bedside with his head tilted back pressing against the wall behind him. He looked roughed up, his face filled with scrapes that looked like they were almost healed. His lip was busted and bruised, and there was a bright red spot just below his eye, not being able to identify if it was a scar or not. If he looked like that you couldn’t imagine what kind of damage was done to you.

“B-B-Bjorn.” You breathed, your voice hollow and dry, as you reached out your hand, tapping against his leg. He hummed, his eyes slowly blinking open, his gaze meeting yours, a small smile coming up on his lips.

”Hey….Good morning.” He said in a joking tone, moving his chair so he was closer to your bedside. You swallowed loudly.

”How…How long have I…” You struggled to speak, watching him grab a glass of water off from your bedside table, holding the straw for you so you could drink, the liquid cooling the inside of your chest.

”About a week.” He responded softly, pulling the straw away from your lips, “You had a few clots in your lungs…Andy was able to remove them with this makeshift chest tube thing he created in the back of the truck, once they were out it was like you slipped into this deep sleep…We didn’t think you would wake up.” He admitted, breaking eye contact, hearing an unfamiliar sadness lacing his voice. You swallowed, nodding.

“And how long have you been sitting here?” You asked quietly.

”The entire time.” He responded, “Took a break to shower, but the majority of the time I was here, waiting.” You could feel your heart catch at the confession, he took in a shaky breath, “I was so scared.” His eyes met yours, as you noticed a tear fall down his cheek. You hadn’t seen Bjorn like this. You were around when his mother passed and even then the state he slipped into was that of rage, not tears. Your eyebrows knitted together as you reached a hand out, placing it against his stubbly cheek, catching a stray droplet that fell from the corner of his eye, “I thought I was going to lose you.” He whispered, his hand coming up to place it atop of yours. You could feel your eyes begin to fill with tears as well, the emotions flooding you quickly, overwhelming you, realizing how much Bjorn had done, how much time he dedicated to making sure you were going to have someone be there when you woke up. He took your hand off his cheek, bringing the back of it up to his lips, giving it a light peck as he held it tightly.

“Come here.” You beckoned, finding what little strength you had in your muscles to push yourself to the right side of the bed to make room for him. He looked at you, almost as if he was asking if you were sure. You patted the free space now, watching him get up and kick off his shoes, lifting the heavy covers so he could slide in next to you. His cheeks were wet with his tears as you wiped them with your knuckle, “I’m okay Bjorn, you don’t have to worry anymore.” His rough hand held your elbow gently, as he nodded, leaning forward to press his forehead against yours, the both of you closing your eyes, your hands holding his neck as you breathed him in. You laid there enjoying the silence for a moment, until you decided to lean in, placing a gentle kiss on his lips, tasting the blood that was caked on them from the cuts. His breath hitched in his throat as his hand rested on your waist. You pulled away quickly realizing what you just did.

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t know what I was th-.” He shook his head.

”Please don’t apologize, I’ve wanted that for so long, don’t ruin it with an apology.” Bjorn murmured, his forehead meeting yours again. You smirked.

”I don’t want you getting the wrong idea, thinking I’m doing it to thank you.” He leaned back to look at you, his eyes scanning over your face.

”Are you doing it for any other reasons I may not know about?” He questioned.

”Maybe it is the fact that we almost died in that building without giving ourselves a chance to admit there’s something between us that we never acknowledged.” You explained, your fingertips tracing his frowny face tattoo just below his ear.

”So you feel it too, hmm?” You glanced at him, “I knew you couldn't possibly resist.” He joked, leaning forward to place another kiss against your lips, “I didn't even have to wait to have a dream about it either.” He added.

[dykedvonte]

Can you talk about trans!Curly a little bit more? I'm curios if you have any headcanons and the like

-💀

It's just such a thing in my mind because it adds a truthful sadness and differing aspect to mouthwashing.

If Curly was trans it adds the horror of the horribly selfish thought he could have easily been in Anya's situation. It could've been him but it wasn't and he so conflicted on the pit it put in his stomach that brings and the shameful relief it wasn't. In this scenario he is friends with Jimmy for a long time still. Jimmy likely knew him pretransition. Maybe he gave Curly weird looks then, maybe they never stopped after, maybe they seemed meaner. They are guys now, bros, both of them are. He doesn't really have to worry what those looks mean anymore, Jimmy just has that face with him sometimes. It's recontextualizing a lot of things for him that he was in denial about or too ashamed to admit. How naive he was being and how he let that get another person hurt.

Specifically with Anya, it's he knows the dread and fear she's feeling. He can understand it because he had to live with it for a good portion of his life, he knows it cause he still does, just in a slightly different way. It makes him think of all the times he's been alone with Jimmy, all the times he's been way more drunk off his ass and not remember the night, Jimmy was always with him the next day. Makes him think of the comments he would laugh off both because that's what guys do but because that part of being a girl says to laugh so Jimmy doesn't do something. It's the selfish realization that he was never safe and he's uncertain now too. Mad at himself for forgeting that feeling, espcially since for a long time he would've been considered the only woman on a crew (with all that implies) for a long time.

He should've taken those blinders off, step back into that position for just a moment and it's so much more painful that Anya likely came to him because he should've gotten it. Those thoughts don't leave his mind after the crash when he's in an even more vulnerable position than she was...

[ganondoodle]

(idk if anyone wants to keep hearing my opinions on totk book stuff but-)

apparently it says that rauru DID have kids, multiple even, which yeah... is kinda necessary for zelda to even be connected to them so much so that sonia can SENSE a blood connection (which, even with all the excuses with magic, is just a little too far for me to suspend my disbelief bc its over, OVER, ten thousand years worth of generations that seperate her from them that one lil touch of the hand can sense that (feels more like an attempt to make you care about them or .. see them as zeldas "better" parents just bc they exchange a few nice words, i never got the feeling they were 'better' parents and its also kinda disrespectful to her actual parents, like sure rhoam wasnt the best but i wouldnt call rauru better just bc he was polite)- i could see maybe the light power of hylia or sth but since its the coolest dude that ever lived rauru now that had it which still doesnt make sense and makes me unreasonably annoyed and she can sense BOTH of their powers in her? nah) the fact theres NOTHING about them in the game itself is just so ... no way they planned any of this

i dont think theres anything they can do or say that wont make be believe they either

are making it up alla 'fix it in post' mentality trying to hastily explain stuff the game never bothers to do to try and appease fans or let it appear as if they thought about it at all

something went really REALLY wrong during development, which kinda seems likely given how the game turned out (im sorry i cannot let go, its not just the writing, the game design too and how little was changed in the map while being so damn expensive, i dont know how people dont feel scammed q_q)

given that they (allegedly) spent the last entire year of development on polish (where??? where????? huh??? like it would make it more understandable (EXCEPT for the price) if there was alot of trouble, which was also bc it got delayed and ... turned out like this, but they dont want to say it, especially given their reputation, with that quote i have heard way too many times 'a delayed game blah blah') i just??

are they just gonna go and do it like they did with kashiwa (kass)? "they uuuh where flying around the whole time ony cool sonau tech maschines, you just dont see or hear from them ooooorrr they were uuuuh out of the country at the time" (sending invitations to other continents to join their glorious kingdom ;) )

(bet they are also gonna say they did all the stuff like ... moving the shrines around (lol?) and lifting the islands up into the sky- which is still weird bc ... didnt they also say they were living in the sky before coming to the surface?? so where?? did they park all their islands on the surface and the mystery kids had the keys so they had to repark them back into the sky after they returned off camera?? xD also why are the islands so different as an environment if they where from the surface? like even the STONE up there is different- and if they were first in the sky then on the surface and the nback in the sky .. why is there not a single yellow tree or grass in the past- you cant really argue that it changed bc they were up there so long bc .. nothing else changed, the suddendly and totally always there sonau buildings are largely in prime condition, only some slightly moldy, and what we see of the glorious past looks barely any different from the present, aside from like ... some standard trees shuffled, no castle yet and that glowy uwu filter DESPITE that stupidly long time frame between it)

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

trying to psych myself up to finally do oc refs by doing fandom-related refs instead: volume 1

wanted to update my yuma from whatever tf this au is so he was a bit more unique... takes inspo from a lot of different things while also trying to be its own sorta thing? which is fitting given the au ;)

bonus chibi now that i'm also figuring out how tf to do chibis lol: