#i meant to do this two months ago :D

[talesfromthecrypts]

Claudia in The Ruthless Pursuit of Blood With All a Child's Demanding // Lestat in The Thing Lay Still

[desireangel]

Dark Cherry | Aemond Targaryen

Part One (potentially ??? xoxo - indecision)

Summary: after months of a marriage that hardly harbours the passion that you'd dreamed about, you stumble across the reason for your husband's indifference and decide enough is enough. Aemond will learn just exactly what he's been missing out on.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader and also some Aemond x some random girly pop who could be impliedly understood as ms Alys ;o

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: smut - mdni 18+!!! infidelity, kinda angsty? second-hand smut? reader is a cheeky voyeur, oral (m receiving), talk of sex, masturbation, bad words, very little dialogue, I wrote this in 2 hours and it is barely edited so it may be shite. guys. please tell me if I've missed a warning, luv u xoxo

Author's note: here's a wee smth while I get my head around part 2 of Infernal Desires! the idea I had for this fic was for a multi-part but idk depends on how we're feeling so there will potentially be a part 2 ;D. kisses!!!! <3

Masterlist!

Whatever pretence was in play, you would be the first to admit that you were tired of it. A loveless marriage was nothing less than what you had expected–a union that was entirely for show and born from the political motives of your families. It was only expected.

You tried to convince yourself that you were content with such an arrangement. It suited your ambitions, meant that you could be left alone to do as you please while quenching the thirst to make your family proud. 

Somehow, despite your hesitance and despite your husband’s ignorance toward you, the one thing that you knew you would never truly hold had become your greatest wish. 

The reality was such that you found yourself longing for affection.

Preferably-of course-your husband’s affection. 

Between the forced smiles put on for expectant eyes, the brush of your shoulders whenever you sat next to each other at the dining hall and the gentle caresses at the small of your back until his touch was hurriedly removed once you were again behind closed doors, you had grown an incessant, consuming desire for the prince you were married to. 

Aemond was a man of great beauty and strength. While many had chastised his singular eye and told tales of his ruthless temper, Aemond had grown to be well respected and the object of many lustful gazes.

Eight months had passed since Aemond became your husband and you, his wife. Eight months of tense silences, lonely nights in a bed you had expected to share and eight months of nothing but false affections that were nothing but a performance.

You had considered yourself a romantic right until you felt the loneliness and realities of this marriage. Your naive desires to feel the throes and excitement of love that you read about were subject to a rude awakening the moment you became disgustingly aware of your husbands lack of it. 

Aside from the night of your wedding, Aemond seemed to avoid your bed as if it would burn his skin. Until two months ago, when you had pushed aside the sting on your pride and all but demanded he spare some time for you. 

Friends had warned you that it was hardly special. But if he was kind enough, as few of their husbands were from time to time, he would give you a chance to experience some of the pleasures of your body.

Aemond was hardly a passionate lover, it had seemed. With instruction to simply lift your skirt, he had you laying with your hips at the foot of the bed where he silently and effortlessly fucked his seed into your womb. It had not yet borne fruit despite his fortnightly visits. 

It was never enough. Your body had eventually begun to crave more. In a very raw and unmistakably physical need to find the release it had been denied for so long. Despite Aemond’s assurance on the first nights of your marriage that neither of you were to have any interest in whores or paramours, words and whispers of the prince’s capabilities had picked up over recent weeks and you came to understand that if only Aemond had wanted to, he could give you exactly what your body desired.

Even if you had the same freedoms as men when it came to taking on lovers outside of your marriage, you couldn’t. Admittedly, you’d developed a taste for luxury - a taste only for your husband. Or at least, the fantasy version of Aemond that you had concocted within your head. 

And when your hand made its way between your thighs in the small hours that followed restless nights, the only thoughts that existed in your mind were those of him. Of all the things you had hoped Aemond would guide you to discover about your bodies. Of all the things that you had read about in the books you’d sneak out to find. 

Sometimes, you wondered if Aemond thought of you while he touched himself. The idea of it often crossed your mind and you had since convinced yourself that you had been driven insane. 

Realistically, you knew that the arrangement you had with Aemond was out of necessity. Nothing more. But you were much like him in certain ways - hungry for what you know you deserve, relentless and cunning. But you had little patience left. 

The moment you had decided to make your worth known to your husband wasn’t one you could place a finger on. It was a gradual thing - as you had gently started shifting your attention past the lovers in your books who no longer calmed your lustful needs. 

You wanted him more fiercely than you had wanted for anything in your lifetime.  

So you gently lowered the neckline of your dresses to highlighted the bump of your collarbone, had your maids do your hair so that it framed your face perfectly while accentuating the shape of your neck. You had soon foregone the paler tones your mother had you wear, colours that announced your purity and innocence. The colours that you wore were deeper, richer and more sultry against the tone of your skin. 

With difficult ignorance of the nervous, shy and pious girl your parents had raised for such a match, you forced yourself to seek out Aemond’s gaze with an extra glint in your eyes. You let your once hesitant touches linger with a newfound confidence that stole your breath away whenever Aemond would escort you to and from the dining hall. On the days Aemond would spare time to walk you through the gardens, you made an effort to speak of more than just the weather. 

At times, you felt uneasy about the act you were putting on. Were the prospect of his affections so important to you that you forced yourself to act so differently? In your mind, being a seductress was never so dishonourable as many made it seem but you had hoped this act would pay off in a matter of a few weeks. 

Your impatience becomes painful when you have every other desire at your beck and call. 

But you were mistaken. If anything, Aemond’s indifference had only grown. And at each hardened glance from your head to toe, at each moment in which he continued to ignore you or look past you, your resolve weakened.  

Aemond could not have found you unattractive - this much you knew as a fact. You knew from the way he used to look at you with a gentle fire in his eye and made sure that your every other need had been taken care of. From the way he clenched his jaw in restraint when you would lay back for him, how his grip on your hips and your thighs left marks on your skin as he fucked into you - even if there was little more than a duty being performed. After all, he was still just a man. 

So despite the fact that your efforts were shaping up to be of no use, you didn’t give up. You started taking breakfast in your chambers, requesting Aemond to join you when he was available, dressed in your softest, prettiest nightgowns instead of having dressed up already. 

You made a show of it, unashamed and brazen. Almost surprisingly, Aemond enjoyed the dark cherry more than you could have hoped. There were subtle changes in the way his eye would linger over the dip of your neck, the way his wordless gaze would follow the deep red that would stain and spill from your lips as you bit into a cherry from the bowl of fruit that you shared.

Your conversations have always been comfortable. Aemond may be a brooding, arrogant hardass sometimes but he was always respectful and kind to his you in the time you shared together as husband and wife. But now he would falter, his words getting caught as he watched you gently sucking off the juice of a cherry from your fingers, humming gently as you glance at him with false nonchalance mixed with your best bedroom eyes. 

And it did drive him insane. Aemond had never seen this side of you, much unlike the quiet, prudish woman he had married. But then again, had he ever truly known you? Either way, you had caught the amusement in his gaze and the way he challenged you wordlessly with a shift of his hips and gentle smirk.

Much to your disappointment, little else changed. Nearly three weeks had passed and Aemond had given you little more than those lingering looks and a few stolen breaths. He had at once withdrawn and become increasingly lacklustre, and when you had even tried asking him about his training with Ser Cole, you received no more than curt, blunt answers at each try. 

It had become too much by the time you had retired to your chambers alone once again. The day had been long and uneventful, Helaena had been by your side for most of it which had been nice but you were in no mood to fake an interest in sifting through the performative duties of a princess. 

In all honesty, it was frustrating. You were starting to wear thin on the constant nagging of absolutely everyone about your lack of a child. It has been almost a year and you have failed to perform your duty as a wife, almost a year and you have not missed a single cycle, almost a year and you haven’t blessed the prince with an heir. 

Because, as a lady whose name you hadn’t cared enough to remember had not-so-gently uttered to you over her dreadful playing of a stringed instrument; what was the point of being his wife if you didn’t bed him well enough to carry his child? 

You had, in truth, been distracted. And the idea of carrying the child of a man who only paid you the necessary courtesies out of politeness and good manners made you feel ill. 

Queen Alicent, although you could tell she was inclined to agree with the lady, had placed a gentle yet firm hand on your bicep to calm the anger that had clearly taken you over. With a glare at the loose-lipped woman, you quickly picked up the handkerchief you’d been attempting to embroider and excused yourself. 

If anyone had noticed your absence from the evening meal, which the Queen had always insisted upon eating together, nobody bothered to say anything. 

Over an hour had passed, tossing around in your bed and your eyes stinging from embarrassment. Why was Aemond so averse to you? Why would he stare at you as if you set his blood on fire in one moment and then glance straight past you in the next? What had you done that convinced him so strongly that you were not even worth trying to be familiar with? 

The gods had surely intended to punish you for something in a past life if they were so adamant to trap you in a marriage with a man who would much rather be anywhere other than with you. 

You may as well be strangers to each other. 

The ache of your anger led you straight out of your own chambers and towards his. You spared Ser Tunsley, the knight standing at your door, a harsh glare and snapped at him to give you your privacy otherwise you’d have him stripped of his cloak. He was a timid one, you noticed, and with a nod he stood back, his eyes staring straight past your shoulder in an attempt not to stare at the thin nightgown that clung to your skin. 

It was an outrageous hour and you were of half a mind in your frustration to thank the gods for the empty hallways. In fact, you noticed the lack of an armoured man at the door to Aemond’s chambers and wondered if maybe the prince was elsewhere. 

You stepped towards the door, curiosity peaked at the sound of shifting, followed by some voices and you hesitated. Frowning, you ran through what you would say if Aemond opened the door - there was nothing that would make sense. 

As you stepped closer to the door, a soft light spilled out and you noticed that it was, in fact, just barely ajar. 

It was unlike Aemond to leave his door open and you were certain he would question you sneaking around the hallways in the small hours, dressed only in underclothes. But you ignored the rational voice at the back of your mind and took silent steps so close to the door that it would be cowardly to back out now. 

You couldn’t hear the voices anymore, ears ringing as you held your breath and gently nudged the door while muttering a silent prayer that it wouldn’t make a sound. 

Shock first. Then fear, anger, desire and an all consuming jealousy as you took a moment to understand what you were seeing.  

Aemond was resting at the end of his bed, naked and resting his weight lazily on one arm, his free hand tangled in the dark hair of a slender woman, just as bare as him, kneeling at his feet and moving her head in an up and down motion. Aemond guided her movements with a firm hand, his head tipped back gently. 

He wasn’t wearing his eyepatch. You’d never seen him without it–he never let you. His eye was firmly shut and you caught the glint of the sapphire in place of the other that was stolen from him. The movements of his chest were heavy and you could hear him panting gently, lips gently parted. 

You were unable to tear your eyes off of Aemond. He looked more beautiful than you had ever seen him, under the golden hue of the lamps, his body lean and chiselled–each curve and muscle glowing under the lights. You could see his pleasure, in his expression, the tinting of his skin and the way he roughly tugged at the mystery woman’s hair. A couple strands of his own hair, usually pulled away from his face, fell forward and the flush of his cheeks were starkly pink against the silver of his hair. He let out a breathy groan, murmuring something you couldn’t quite hear as he opened his eye, dark with lust, and gazed down at the woman that was hunched over his lap. The lewd sounds of her mouth on him almost made you gasp and you thanked the gods that Aemond could not see you. Because you could not move if you tried. 

You couldn’t see anything other than the back of her head, and you were glad of it. Because you knew that seeing her face would have been too much and staying hidden and quiet would have been ten times more difficult. Despite the pressure between your thighs, the uncomfortable slick that you felt against your small clothes and the heat that rushed through you from head to toe, you glared viciously at the back of her head. 

Aemond’s breathing stuttered, a string of curses falling carelessly from his lips while he watched the woman as if he were entirely enchanted by her. Despite the fact that you couldn’t really see what she was doing, so expertly that had him in such a state, the entire thing felt obscene. And you could hear her muffled moans, the wetness and her light gagging when Aemond tightened his hold on her hair and thrusted upwards.

Your cheeks burned and your blood felt like lava coursing through your veins. The intensity of your want for him–as he was right now–made you dizzy and you drew in sharp breaths, careful not to make a sound. Because if he turned his head slightly to the left, just for a second, he would see you. You didn’t want to know the consequences. But nothing  that existed among all of the realm could force you to turn around and leave. 

Aemond’s groans were quiet and deep but they grew slightly louder than before, his breath catching as you could see him grow closer to his peak. Your thighs trembled as you pressed them together, barely thinking about how you would be able to escape after he was done–when he would surely see you watching unashamedly. 

The sounds that Aemond was making sent shockwaves straight to your wetness and as you could see his entire body grow visibly tense, hips jerking as his groans turned strained amongst grunts and whispers of just like that and fuck and—a name. 

It was your name. 

You couldn’t help but gasp, clenching around nothing, squeezing and rubbing your thighs together to try and relieve the throbbing of your clit. The woman faltered, much to your satisfaction, and she pulled her head back from him. You couldn’t see past her but her hands remained as they were, biceps moving gently as she continued to touch him. 

“Aemond-” you winced as she said his name, no bother for formality. Her voice was slightly husky and it remained sultry and smooth. “I’m not-”

Your husband’s jaw ticked, squeezing his eye shut and pushing her head down towards his hips again. “I know. Fuck–” he grunted, roughly pushing her further down, cursing as she gagged. She hummed around him. 

Suddenly, the desire in your veins became secondary to the jealousy that burned your lungs and the betrayal that caught in your throat. You knew men were not faithful creatures, and even though part of you had known Aemond had been no different��not with how you have heard the servants speak on a couple occasions–but foolishly, you had hoped that he had been a man of his word. Another naive part of you truly did believe him when he said he would have no other woman. 

Whatever she was doing, however she was doing it and no matter that it was your name that fell from his lips, Aemond was enjoying it. He was praising her–telling her she was his, telling her she was doing so well and letting himself get lost in the pleasure she was giving him. 

It was painful to watch and you cursed your body for yearning so badly for reprieve. You’d become soaked, thighs slick from where you’d dripped down. But you would be damned if you gave in and as Aemond’s hips started jerking, his strained grunts becoming desperate as he chased the peak he was nearing, you pushed yourself away from the door and ran back towards your own chambers. 

The entire scene had seared itself into your brain and you trembled as you shut yourself away in your bedchambers, ignoring whatever questions Ser Tunsley had been asking you. 

Who was that woman? You couldn’t make sense of all the questions that flooded your brain. The emotions that fought for dominance. How had they met? Was she a whore? 

Did they see you? 

Your mind replayed the way he’d groaned your name, unable to help yourself from whimpering at the memory. It didn’t make any sense. Aemond was clearly thinking about you yet he had never so much as spared you more than a heated look - he had never even given you a kiss. 

Aemond had never been so comfortable with you. Not the way he was with her. The way he let her say his name–free of his title, like she was his equal. You had only addressed him without title once, on the night of your wedding. 

You laughed. How silly this all was. 

Despite your arousal, and regardless of your hurt, you were angry. 

How dare he? Did he think so little of you? 

Did he love her? Is that why he never tried for you? 

It was infuriating. And there was little you could do about it. But nonetheless, you saw an opportunity through the tears you scolded yourself for shedding over a man who never gave you what you deserved. 

Aemond would regret it. And he’d learn that his wife was the only woman who could give him what he needs. But for now, you let yourself grieve the Aemond you had led yourself to believe was real. The man who held your hand in his and told you that while he couldn’t be the husband you wanted, he would never disrespect you so much as to let another woman into his bed. 

[dndorkdoggo]

Wise Men Say...

No matter what universe, Friday is a goddess of fate. Goodbid/Mercury Human!au (7,951 Words)

**

October 9th, 2022

“I’m tellin’ ya she was right here!” Goodbid groans looking around the food court frantically.

He had decided to take his daughter to the mall after work and his friends had decided to tag along. It was supposed to be a fun day of ice cream and shopping, but instead, his lovely little girl disappeared.

“She’ll turn up, Bid,” Glib soothes despite his own nerves. He wrings his hands on his black jacket, but he stops when Goodbid looks at him.

“Yes, and we’ll keep searching for her,” S.G. asserts, their accent coming out stronger from stress. S.G. always considered themselves a secondary parent to his daughter, down to even demanding to have every other weekend with her.

“But what if she doesn’t? What if she walked off with some-”

“Found her,” Emmy whispers, cutting Goodbid short, as he points into the crowd. Glib goes to the black-haired kid as Goodbid and S.G. shoot up, immediately running toward the shining white hair in the distance.

On the other side of the food court, his social butterfly of a daughter is chatting happily with a man around Goodbid’s age.

“Friday!” He shouts, more relieved than angry as he runs toward her like a bat out of hell, not caring about the strange looks he’s getting from the other customers.

Friday turns and smiles innocently at him. “Oh hi, daddy!” she says happily. He drops to his knees and pulls her into a death-grip hug. She pulls back and pears up at him. “Daddy? What’s wrong?” she asks genuinely, her green eyes catching in the light.

“Friday, you can’t just disappear like that! You scared me plum to death!” Goodbid chides, his accent coming out thicker than he normally lets it.

“But I was with him!” She laughs pointing over her shoulder to the man who is still sitting. Goodbid’s gaze snaps to the man who looks genuinely guilty.

“Sorry, mate,” he says with a thick New Zealand accent, scratching the back of his neck. “I was trying to keep her here until someone claimed her.” Almost as an afterthought, he sticks out his hand with a kind smile that would have knocked Goodbid off his feet if he weren’t crouched on his knees. “I’m Mercury.”

From somewhere behind Goodbid he hears S.G. mutter something that sounds suspiciously like “oh my god, he’s hot.”

Goodbid accepts the hand and slowly stands up, not acknowledging the Russian. “Goodbid, John Goodbid,” he says with his most charismatic grin.

“He’s leaving out the best part,” S.G. teases. “His middle name is Brixton and they used to call him Johnny which makes his full name Johnny B. Goodbid.”

Mercury looks at them incredulously but without malice.

“Right, well, they’re leavin’ out the part where I was named after my Daddy’s best friend who died in a farmin’ accident right before my Mama got pregnant with me, and Brixton was my grandaddy’s name,” Goodbid explains as he picks up Friday and sets her on his hip. “Not to mention their name is S.G.!” Goodbid counters.

“What’s that stand for?”

“Some Guy,” Glib says as he joins the group. Friday squeals, “Uncle Glib!” and gets a fond look and a bit of ruffled hair in return. “Oh and I’m Gilbert, but everyone calls me Glib.”

Mercury laughs good-naturedly at them. “I can’t fault you for your names,” he laughs. “My name is Mercury Avery Saylor -that’s with a y and not an i- and I’m from a family of seamen, but now I’m a pilot.”

“Really?” Glib laughs, flinching as it pulls at the fresh cut on his cheek. “There’s no way that’s your family name.” As always, Emerald seems to just appear next to his adopted dad, hiding his face in the back of Glib’s long black jacket.

“No, no, really!” Mercury laughs. “And my dad used to be called Legs and I used to be called Legs Jr.”

“What’s so funny about that?” S.G. asks, plucking a fry off of the pilot’s plate. Friday and Emerald laugh in a strange, all-knowing way, as the blonde lays her head on her father’s shoulder and Emmy steps more into the open. Without missing a beat, Mercury grabs his pant legs and pulls them up, revealing two prosthetic legs. S.G. chokes on and then spits out their food, turning away as they hack-cough.

He cracks a smile and then says, “you can laugh” to which S.G. starts howling with laughter as the others stare at him.

“How? Or- no- why that nickname?” Glib sputters out, slack-jawed.

“The prosthetic legs have nothing to do with the nickname, actually,” he says, dropping the pant legs and smoothing them back down. “My dad used to have these short stumpy legs so they used to call him Legs, and I used to have these really long legs so, of course, they had to call me Legs Jr. to mock my dad.”

“Well, do they still call ya Legs?” Goodbid asks slowly, watching Mercury’s expression to see if he’s overstepping.

“No, uh, they haven’t called me that in years,” Mercury says with a slightly solemn expression before shaking his head as he stands up, coming out about half a head taller than Goodbid. “Not because of the prosthetics though.”

“Oh, uh, sorry I didn’t mean to hold you if you got somewhere else to be,” Goodbid says as he backs up slightly, making a way for Mercury to leave. He pushes down the several less-than-civil thoughts that appear in his head as he looks up at the man.

“Ah, no, I don’t really have anywhere to be,” Mercury says lightly.

“You should stay with us!” Friday says joyfully, to which Emmy nods.

“Now, Friday, I’m sure that this lovely gentleman has something better to do today other than follow around a group of strangers,” Goodbid jokes lightly and is met with a warm smile from the pilot which makes him a little weak in the knees.

“But Daddy, don’t you want to talk to your future husband?” Friday asks with genuine concern. Everyone goes dead quiet and stares at her, only to be broken by Mercury’s laughing.

“Quite the little one ya got there,” Mercury says through his laughs.

“Honey, you can’t just say that,” Goodbid chides her, ignoring the blush that is sitting high on his cheeks. “I’m so sorry,” he apologizes quickly, “She’s six and has no filter.”

Mercury chuckles and shakes his head. “Nah, mate, you’re alright,” he claps Goodbid on the shoulder and ruffles Friday’s hair and offers Emmy a fist bump to which he nervously accepts. “It was nice meetin’ all of ya, but I gotta be off now!” He picks his bag off the floor and leaves the group, waving over his shoulder as he does.

As soon as Mercury is out of ear range, Goodbid looks down at Friday. “You and I are goin’ to have a talk about what we can and cannot say to strangers in public.”

*

October 11th, 2022

Mercury was in so much trouble. He was running so far behind because the stupid joints in his prosthetics were acting up this morning, putting him about an hour behind. Normally, that wouldn’t matter except for the fact that he has a meeting with the CEO of the company he is hopefully starting to ship for.

“I knew I should’ve got these stupid things replaced!” He groans as he runs up the stairs to the company building, his suit jacket flying in the wind. He is suddenly very glad for his foresight to put his hair back into a ponytail before running out the door because if he hadn’t, his hair would be akin to a rat’s nest right now.

He starts babbling to the receptionist, panting and wheezing. The man, sympathizing with his dilemma, waves him onto the elevator, giving him basic directions to the boss’s office. As soon as the elevator doors open, many floors up, he bolts out of them, skidding to a stop in front of the personal assistant’s desk. He glances down at the nameplate and then back up to the unimpressed woman.

“Can I help you?” she asks in a flat tone, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, um,” he fishes a note out of his pocket and reads off the crumpled ink. “I have a meeting with Mister, uh,” he squints at his writing but the receptionist waves her hand and silences him.

“Mr. Goodbid, yes,” she says and types quickly on her computer before looking back at him and adjusting her glasses. “Mercury A. Saylor?” She asks.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he says with a nervous smile.

She scans him with an extremely critical eye before saying bluntly, “You are ten minutes late.”

He tries to keep his shoulders from slumping. “Yes, miss, I know, but my-”

“I’m not the one to plead your case to,” she says coldly. “Go on.” She points to the door to Mr. Goodbid’s office. “He is not an overly patient man.” She doesn’t spare him another look as she returns to her work.

Mercury swallows every mean thing he wants to say to her and turns to the door. He hesitates and knocks on the door.

“Enter,” a muffled, but distinctly southern voice shouts from the other side.

He breathes a shaky breath before slowly opening the door and stepping through.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, sir,” he says as soon as he gets a foot in the door. “You see I have these issues with my-”

“Mister Mercury?” A faintly familiar voice cuts him off.

His head snaps up and sitting behind a very ornate dark oak desk is the man from the mall a few days ago.

“Johnny B. Goodbid?” He laughs, stepping through the door and shutting it behind him. “I didn’t know you were going to be my boss.” He cringes and adds, “My hopefully boss.”

Goodbid laughs with his full chest and all of Mercury’s anxieties fade away.

“Well, I didn’t know that you were the Captain I was interviewing!” Goodbid says, reaching up to toy with the end of his mustache.

“Really? My name was on the paper!” Mercury says as he slowly approaches the desk.

“No, I thought I was interviewing Captain Mercy Skylar!” Goodbid says, lifting his paper up before putting it back into its neat stack.

“How did you mess it up that badly?” Mercury asks, voice full of mirth.

Goodbid sighs and leans back in his chair. “My PA -you met Sandra, right?- has horrendous writin’ that only she can read,” Goodbid explains with a shrug of his shoulders. As they talk, Mercury notices Goodbid’s southern accent becomes steadily heavier as he seemingly relaxes.

“Yeah, quite mean, that one- AH!” he shrieks as his left-knee joint locks up, sending him falling forward onto Goodbid’s desk. Goodbid shoots up and catches him by the arm and waist, protecting his papers and desk. Mercury straightens up, blush painted high on his tanned cheeks. “I am so sorry,” he apologizes quickly.

“No, no, you’re fine,” Goodbid soothes instantly. “Are you okay?” He asks with genuine concern. Something about his expression and his worrying about Mercury sends the ex-sailor’s heart fluttering.

“Yeah, I’m, uh, fine,” he says as he sits down in one of the chairs facing Goodbid’s desk. “It’s actually the reason I was so late. My joints have been giving me trouble all week. It made me run about an hour late this morning so the fact I got here at all is really impressive.”

Goodbid tsks before saying, “can’t ya have them replaced?”

“Not without sending the entire legs in to get fixed,” Mercury says tiredly. “And then I’d be wheelchair-bound for at least a month which means I couldn’t work for a month. I don’t have that much money saved up to live off of for that long, not to mention actually getting them fixed would cost me an arm and a leg.” He pauses and looks up at Goodbid and grins. “And I only got an arm to give.” He shakes his leg, letting the metal squeak a little.

Goodbid laughs with his full chest again. “We’ll have to talk about covering those costs, my friend,” he says as he stands up and walks around the desk. He sobers slightly, but the joy doesn’t leave his face. “That bein’ said, I have another meeting here in around three minutes, so how about we resume this conversation tomorrow, after hours.” He stops in front of Mercury and gives him a blinding smile. “How do you like coffee?”

“I like it quite a lot, yeah,” he says with a grin.

“Good! How about you meet me at The Holy Coffee House -it’s not actually a religious organization, don’t worry- at, let’s say, 6:30? It's about a block down the street, and I have to say that it is the best coffee I’ve had in a long while,” he offers a hand for Mercury to grab.

“Well, how could I resist with a sales pitch like that?” the pilot says with a smile of his own as he accepts the hand and pulls himself to his feet. “So, I assume it's safe to say I’m not out of a job yet?”

Goodbid laughs again as he walks Mercury to the door. “I am quite certain that you and I will work quite well together.” He says with a smile that is a little too genuine to be a salesman's grin.

“Until tomorrow, Mr. Goodbid,” Mercury says as he steps back into the waiting lobby.

“Oh, please, everyone just calls me Goodbid, no ‘mister’ necessary!” Goodbid corrects happily.

“Well, in that case, until tomorrow, Goodbid,” he says again with a friendly wave.

“Until then,” Goodbid smiles at him before shutting the door and, assumingly, returning to his desk.

Mercury passes Sandra who is staring at him slack-jawed. He gives her a polite smile and wave, as he continues to the elevator. He starts to undo his tie, as he begins to plan what he is going to wear tomorrow.

*

October 12th, 2022

Straighten papers.

Check watch. 6:15

Shuffle things around.

Check watch. 6:15

Sip coffee.

Check watch. 6:16

Straighten papers again.

Check watch. 6:16

Look busy.

Check watch. 6:16

Goodbid has been impulsively checking his watch for the last hour. He’s not very sure why he is so anxious. He hasn’t been this anxious to meet anyone since he met Friday’s social worker for the first time. He has no reason to be so worried! He is just conducting an interview. An out-of-office interview. At a coffee shop. With a ridiculously handsome sailor. That his half-prophet daughter said he would marry.

Goodbid sighs heavily, as he runs a hand through his hair. He has no clue what has gotten into him. He’s like a schoolboy with a stupid crush.

He shakes his head to clear the thought as he checks his watch again.

6:17

Three more minutes and he can leave. He hasn’t gotten any work done since five o’clock, but he doesn’t want to incur the wrath of Sandra, who is already skeptical of him leaving ten minutes early. He chuckles at the irony of that. Everyone thinks he is this strict, iron-fisted CEO, but truly he is a pushover who is scared of his personal assistant.

He stands up and pops his back, stretching in the ways that S.G. taught him to help with his back pain. He runs a flat hand down his suit, smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles for possibly the thousandth time today. He decided on a clean charcoal-black suit with a dark green button-up. He was going to wear a slick black and green tie, but Friday demanded that he wear his black and white mustache-print tie, and who is he to deny his precious little girl?

He packs his briefcase, checking it once, then twice to make sure it contains everything he needs. He checks his watch again, almost praising God that it is 6:19. He picks his top hat off his hat rack and walks out the door.

“Evenin’, Sandra!” Goodbid greets happily as he bounds past her.

“Mr. Goodbid, leaving already?” Sandra asks, peering up at him over the rim of her thick red glasses frames.

“Yep, don’t wanna keep the man waitin’!” He says as charismatically as he can. She looks him up and down, eyes lingering on his fun tie, before humming judgmentally and returning to her obnoxiously loud keyboard. Goodbid nearly audibly sighs before trotting to the elevator.

He taps his foot the entire way down, watching the floors tick by. He has to restrain himself from sprinting out the door as they open, reminding himself that he is the CEO and is currently in the office building.

He walks calmly out of the building and struts down the block, smiling at everyone he passes.

Just as he predicted, he arrives at Zalkas’ right at 6:30. With a calming breath, he steps into the brewery. He quickly spots Mercury sitting in a booth near the window. Goodbid has a fleeting thought about how Mercury somehow picked Goodbid’s favorite booth before he walks over.

“Howdy, stranger,” he says lightly as he sits down across from the brown-haired man.

Mercury jolts before his features soften into a happy expression. “Heya,” he greets with a soft smile which becomes slightly nervous as he pushes a cup over to the businessman. “I took a guess on what you like because I got here early.”

Goodbid takes the cup and prepares himself to lie and say he likes it, but is completely astonished to find that Mercury managed to guess his coffee perfectly. “How did you get it so perfectly?” the CEO asks as he takes another drink.

“Wait, really?” Mercury asks.

“Black with two sugars?” Goodbid replies, taking another sip.

“Holy crap, I was right?” Mercury laughs as he puts his own cup down.

Goodbid nods before a question comes to his head. “Why were you here so early?”

“Oh, uh, I’m either really, really early to things or horrendously late,” Mercury explains. “Not when I ship things, obviously, I have other people to keep that from happening, but when I am left to my own devices, well…” He sweeps his hands out in a broad gesture before shrugging and taking a drink from his cup.

Goodbid laughs and nods. “I used to be like that, but then I got Friday, and now I’m late to just about everything,” he jokes.

Mercury looks at him for a moment before cautiously asking, “can I ask you something that might be a little rude?”

Goodbid, having an idea of where this is going, smiles behind his cup. “I didn’t name her Friday, I adopted her, and no I’m not married and never have been.”

“I guess you get the same questions a lot?” Mercury asks sheepishly.

“More than you’d know, but I’ve gotten used to it,” Goodbid soothes effortlessly.

“No, I get it,” Mercury laughs. “I get the same questions about my legs.”

They settle into a comfortable silence as they continue drinking their respective beverages.

“So is there a test or something that I need to pass?”

“Test?” Goodbid murmurs before he puts the pieces together. “Oh, no, I did all the paperwork, you just need to sign this.” The businessman takes his briefcase from the floor, plops it on the table, clicks it open, pulls out a few documents and a pen, puts it back on the floor, and places it in front of Mercury all before the pilot could process what was being done, all while drinking his coffee.

Mercury laughs as he picks up the pen. “How’d you do that?”

“I’ve done this for years,” Goodbid explains with a shrug.

Mercury accepts the answer with a noncommittal hum as he scans over the paperwork.

“Uh, Mister Bid?” Mercury says quietly as he slowly looks up.

“Yes?” Goodbid starts running through any legal jargon he could’ve messed up.

“I think you’re tryin’ to pay me too much,” Mercury says, hesitantly pushing the paper toward him. “I agreed to about two thousand less than that.”

Goodbid picks up the paper and reads it quickly before clicking his tongue and putting the paper back onto the table. “You did, but after a quick consultation with the finances and the shipping department, we decided that we can easily pay you two thousand more than originally agreed on.”

Mercury studies him for a moment before slowly asking, “why?”

“Because I like to take care of my employees when I can,” Goodbid explains in a tone that leaves only a little room for debate.

Mercury looks at the paper before looking back at the businessman, who is trying to maintain his composure under the intense gaze. Suddenly the pilot starts to grin.

“I knew there was a reason I liked you,” he says under his breath before leaning back with a sly grin on his face. “That and you are apparently my future husband.”

Goodbid blushes up to his ears. “I’m real sorry about that,” he spits out before his brain has fully caught up.

Mercury laughs warmly, and Goodbid is suddenly very glad for the blush already on his face. “No problem, mate. She’s a sweet one.”

Goodbid preens slightly at the compliment. “She’s a real gift,” he says happily before a thought occurs to him. “She wants to see you again. She’s not typically like that with strangers, so you must be special.”

Mercury smiles and tilts his head to the side. “I wouldn’t be opposed to seeing her again.” He pauses before tentatively saying, “maybe we could get coffee more often and you could bring her?”

Goodbid smiles at the idea. “I’d love that.”

*

November 3rd, 2022

“Heya, Mr. Bid!” Mercury greets him on their weekly coffee meet -not date, no matter what S.G. says. He pauses and looks him up and down. “You look stressed.” His eyes drift down to where a certain six-year-old is bopping alongside her father. “G’evenin’ Friday.”

“Hi, mister Mercury!” she says happily, giving him a grin that is all teeth.

Goodbid slumps down into his regular seat across from him, sighing as he does, and Friday wastes no time in clambering into his lap. The bags under his eyes are dark, his normally perfectly groomed hair and mustache are frizzy, and the top two buttons of his suit are undone, not to mention his lack of a tie.

“Like ya wouldn’t believe,” he says, his voice coarse, exhaustion lacing every word.

A silence falls over them as Goodbid spaces out, the only sound being Friday’s scribbling on a piece of paper that her father pulled from his briefcase.

“Want to talk about it?” Mercury asks, pushing Goodbid’s coffee towards him.

“Well, it’s just-” The businessman breathes out a long breath before bringing his eyes up to Mercury’s for the first time since he got there. “I’m stressed about Friday and Emerald.”

The pilot sits up straighter at that. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing major,” Goodbid dismisses with a wave of his hand. He runs his fingers through Friday’s long white hair as he gathers his thoughts. “It’s just that- well, ya know how Glib and I are goin’ on that business trip tomorrow and won’t get back until next week?” Mercury nods, thinking vacantly about how they will probably not have a coffee-meet next week, but he doesn’t acknowledge the twinge of pain that courses through his heart at the thought. “Well, S.G., normally keeps them while we’re gone, but they just caught the flu.”

“Oh, that’s not good,” Mercury says sympathetically. “Are they alright?”

Goodbid nods, smoothing down Friday’s hair before speaking again. “We don’t really know what to do,” Goodbid continues, taking a sip of his coffee. Mercury stifles a laugh at the euphoric look on the businessman’s face when the caffeine hits his tongue. “We can’t hire a babysitter on such short notice, none of our parents live close enough to get here in time, and we don’t really have anyone else around here that we can drop them off with.” He sighs and puts down his cup. “I’m worried we’ll miss the trip which we can’t do because this is really important for this, that, and a third!” He groans and drops his head down on the table.

“Why can’t you just take them with you?” Mercury asks.

“They’d miss too much school and they would have to stay in a strange apartment in a strange town alone all day,” the man explains, head still on the table. Friday giggles at her dad, but says nothing.

“I mean, I could take care of the buggers,” Mercury offers carefully, watching Friday happily draw what looks like a family picture.

Goodbid’s head snaps up and he looks at him with wide pleading eyes. “You could? There’s two of them, and they can be quite the handful and-”

Mercury, much more confident now, shrugs him off. “I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t sure.” The gratitude in the businessman’s eyes nearly melts Mercury on the spot. “Besides, it's only for a week.”

Goodbid sits up straight and with a dopey grin and says, “I could kiss you right now. Thank you so much!”

Mercury blushes slightly but covers it with a laugh. “How much sleep did ya get last night?”

“Not enough!” Goodbid declares as he stands up, picking Friday up with him.

“Wee!” Friday cheers as she takes her picture with her. “Can we go to Mercury’s house now?”

The businessman looks at Mercury with a slightly shyer look on his face. “Would you mind? I would kinda like to look around your home first to make sure everything is alright.”

“Yeah, of course!” Mercury agrees quickly, easily understanding the father’s concern. “I actually live about a ten-minute walk away.”

Goodbid gives him a warm smile. “Lead the way then.”

The air outside the coffee shop is nippy and dry, but it’s not unpleasant. Friday walks between them, holding her dad’s hand, but when a car whizzes by them, too close and too fast for comfort, she latches onto Mercury’s hand. The ex-sailor ideally thinks about how they must look like a little family on a walk before shaking the thought from his head. It doesn’t take long to reach his apartment complex, and before he knows it he is showing his boss his apartment so that way he can babysit his daughter and nephew.

“It isn’t much, but it was the first thing I bought on my own, so it means a lot to me,” Mercury says with a skittish smile as he opens the door.

“Hey, I get it, I had helicopter parents too,” Goodbid says with a smile.

The pilot makes a slightly pained expression. “Yeah, something like that.”

Goodbid does a thorough, yet entirely sleep-deprived, inspection while Friday explores.

“Everything looks good!” Goodbid praises. “Alright, Friday, let’s go home,” he says as he starts to look for his daughter.

“Oh, she’s in my room, taking a nap,” Mercury explains quietly from the kitchen. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all,” Goodbid on instinct. He glances at his watch and realizes that he missed Friday’s nap time.

“Yeah, she told me she was sleepy and since I don’t have the guest room set up for her yet I just told her to sleep in my room.” Mercury slides past him into the kitchen where he starts to cook himself some food. “Hungry?”

On cue, Goodbid’s stomach growls. They both laugh before Mercury gets out enough ingredients to cook for three.

“Maybe we could add you to the rotation of babysitters,” Goodbid jokes, yawning as he does. “Give S.G. a break.”

They continue to talk while Mercury cooks, but Goodbid slowly becomes quieter, yawning more frequently. By the time the food is ready, the businessman has gone completely silent.

Mercury walks out to the living room but stops in the doorway.

Goodbid is dead asleep on his couch.

“Hey, you should probably eat something before taking a nap,” Mercury whispers, shaking his arm. Goodbid stirs groggily, blinking up confused at the pilot. Mercury chuckles and explains, “food’s ready.”

The cogs in the businessman’s head are slow but they are turning. After a few seconds of them staring at each other, Goodbid nods, slowly standing up. Mercury carefully guides the shorter into the kitchen. Goodbid stands like a zombie, clearly not thinking and just existing. The ex-sailor takes pity on the raven-haired man and makes both of their plates before leading him into the dining area.

Goodbid eats slowly, but he eventually does finish his food. Mercury finishes his food in silence as Goodbid zones out, fighting for his life to stay awake. Eventually, the businessman looks up at the other. “I like your voice,” he says suddenly.

“Yeah?” Mercury says with a chuckle. The poor man is clearly half asleep and not thinking clearly.

“You should keep talkin’,” Goodbid says with a nod.

Mercury stifles a laugh with his hand. “Why don’t you go sit on the couch? We can watch a movie or something.”

“Sure,” Goodbid says as he stands, walking unsteadily to the couch and collapsing across it like he was before.

Mercury laughs loudly at that. He cleans up the plates, packing Friday’s away for later. Once everything is clean, he returns to the soundly sleeping man, trying to decide what to do.

“Mr. Bid, wake up,” Mercury whispers, shaking him lightly, to which the sleeping man grumbles, but does not stir. After a moment of internal debate, Mercury drops down and removes the man’s shoes and suit jacket. He slips his hands under Goodbid’s knees and the small of his back before lifting him up bridal style; he is surprisingly light.

He briefly considers taking him to the guest bedroom before deciding that Goodbid will probably feel better if he is with his daughter.

His room is messy, stray clothing is scattered about and a few empty cans here or there, but Friday is fast asleep in his bed. Mercury gently lays Goodbid down next to his daughter before pulling back the covers and throwing the blanket over the man. He quietly backs out of the room, returning to the living room to wait for them to wake up.

*

TRIGGER WARNING for abuse and homophobia! I will put a chapter summary in the end note if you just want to skip this chapter!

February 15th, 2023

The rapid knocks at the door startle Goodbid out of his light sleep. He sits up from the recliner and glances at the time on his phone. 12:26 am. He must’ve fallen asleep in his chair after putting Friday in bed. He stands up and stretches, but the rapid knocking draws his attention back. He assumes it’s his neighbor's as he tucks his phone into his pocket and starts for the door.

“Hold ya horses, I’m comin’!” Goodbid grumbles as he opens the door. Standing on the other side is Mercury with his hair down, shivering as snow falls around him. “Mercury?” he says, astonished and confused to be seeing the pilot at this odd hour.

His head snaps up when Goodbid speaks like he didn’t hear the door open. “I’m sorry to be bothering you, but I don’t have anywhere else to go,” he says instantly, teeth chattering. Goodbid studies his face and his stomach drops as he sees dark bruises forming on the dark-haired man’s face. Sitting by his feet is a bag overflowing with clothes and other small items.

Goodbid is struck silent for a moment before swinging the door wide open and gesturing the younger man in.

“You are drippin’ wet!” Goodbid says as he takes the bag of clothes from Mercury and brings it into the living room.

“I’m- I’m sorry, I can ch-change if you w-want.” Mercury makes a move for the bag but Goodbid stops him.

“Oh, you’ll be changin’ alright, but you’re takin’ a hot shower first!” Goodbid says as he places a hand on the pilot’s shoulder and is startled to find how cold it is. Mercury mindlessly nods as the businessman guides him into the bathroom. “This one’s the hot, this one’s the cold.” He explains simply before tacking on, “I’m gonna get you a fresh change of clothes.”

He doesn’t wait for Mercury to respond before leaving. He quietly creeps past Friday’s room, praising any deity that will listen that his daughter could sleep through an apocalypse, and goes into his bedroom. He fishes out a clean pair of underwear, socks, and a comfy set of pajamas, and returns to the bathroom. He’s relieved to hear the water running and decides to just set the clothes outside the door.

He then goes into the kitchen to do what he does best: make southern comfort food.

Since most of the ingredients were already made and sitting in the fridge, it takes him no time at all to whip up a warm bowl of chicken noodle soup. He pauses for a moment to listen for the sound of running water before continuing with his plan to make a small batch of cookies and some fresh hot chocolate.

The shower clicks off as Goodbid cleans the kitchen up, the smell of freshly made food and baking cookies wafting through the house. Mercury timidly appears in the doorway, damp hair laying across his shoulders.

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks, his posture tense and drawn in on himself, like he’s worried he’ll get in trouble for not helping.

“Um, yeah,” Goodbid says after a moment. He throws the rag he was using over his shoulder and points to the bowls of soup. “Take those to the table, and then start eating. I’ll be joinin’ you in a minute.” He flashes Mercury his signature blinding smile before he continues to wipe down the counter.

He listens to Mercury’s socked feet pad into the kitchen before going into the dining room. He hears the wooden feet of the chair scrape against the wooden floors before Mercury sits down.

Goodbid gives the counter another once over before deciding his work was satisfactory. He notes how much longer until the cookies come out before picking up the cups of hot chocolate and joining Mercury at the table.

They eat in silence for a few minutes before Goodbid decides to try and address the elephant in the room.

“Now, I won’t force you,” he begins as gently as he can. He notes the way Mercury tenses up even further. “But I do want to know why you showed up at my door, not dressed for the cold, at 12:30 at night.”

Mercury nods and sits up a little straighter. His eyes focus on the wall behind Goodbid and he purses his lips, before laughing slightly manically.

“I- I don’t really know where to start,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

“Take your time, I have all night.”

Mercury is silent for a minute, the thousand-yard stare still fixed in his eyes before he looks at Goodbid. “Did I ever tell you about my dad?”

“Only that y’all argued a whole lot and you moved in with him a month ago because of his bad back.” Goodbid sips his hot chocolate.

“Did I ever tell you why we argued?”

“He was upset that you got your mother’s plane,” Goodbid recalls from previous conversations he’s had with the pilot. “Which is weird because he’s a sailor who can’t fly it?”

Mercury chuckles tiredly. “Yeah, dad wanted me to still be solely reliant on him like mom was, down to making me give up my apartment so I wouldn’t be able to go back…” Mercury trails off, the distant look returning to his face.

Goodbid tries to not react to that statement. Mercury talked frequently about how much his apartment meant to him, and he had no idea that he no longer had it. “But?” Goodbid prompts.

“But that’s not all we’d argue about,” Mercury says quietly.

Goodbid is silent for a moment, waiting for him to continue, but once it’s clear that Mercury has no plans on doing so, Goodbid says, “I won’t force ya to talk about it, but I won’t judge if it's somethin’ bad.”

Mercury looks down at his food before looking back to Goodbid with a determined expression. “You’re not homophobic, are you?”

Goodbid chuckles and shakes his head. “It’d be awfully hypocritical of me if I was.”

“You’re gay?”

“Pan, actually,” Goodbid clarifies.

Mercury is quiet for a moment before saying, “Okay, then this will be easier to explain than I thought.” Goodbid flashes him a smile and waits for him to continue. “I’m gay, and my dad knows. He hates it and regularly uses it against me.” He hesitates and takes a drink while he gathers his nerves. “We got in a bad fight over the fact that I won’t be marrying a woman, and he probably won’t be getting biological grandkids.” His grip on the mug tightens. “He gave me ten minutes to gather my stuff before he was going to shoot me with his shotgun.”

A heavy silence falls over them.

“I’m so sorry,” Goodbid says gently. He tentatively places his hand over Mercury’s. “That shouldn’t happen to anyone.” Mercury shrugs but doesn’t try to remove Goodbid’s hand. The businessman studies his face before saying. “We have an extra room. You can stay here for as long as you like.”

“Really?” Mercury asks quietly like if he raises his voice this moment will shatter and he will wake up in his dad’s house again, fearing being berated or beaten for sleeping in.

“Of course,” Goodbid says with a genuine smile. “I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t serious. Besides, Friday will be thrilled to have you here!”

Chapter Summary: Mercury shows up at Goodbid’s house at midnight. Goodbid brings him inside and after Goodbid has made their food, Mercury reveals that he got into a bad fight with his dad and was kicked out. Goodbid offers him a place to stay.

*

June 11th, 2023

“Merc! Fri!” Goodbid calls tiredly into the house as he shuts the front door. “I’m home!”

“Okay, I’m in the kitchen!” Mercury replies. He hears Friday happily run up to her father. “We have guests by the way!”

The click of Goodbid’s shoes echoes through the hall as he pops into the kitchen, Friday sitting on his hip. “Oh really, who’s here?”

“Hey, mustache,” Glib says from the couch.

“Oh, howdy, Glib!” Goodbid says tiredly but with a smile nonetheless. “What ‘re ya doin’ here?”

Glib stands up from the couch and stands in the kitchen doorway. “I was dropping Friday off, and needed to wait until you got here so I could give you these papers from Mystery Man.”

Goodbid groans. “What now?”

Glib laughs. “My thoughts exactly.” He shakes his head and holds out a manilla folder. There’s fine writing across the front, but Mercury learned months ago that Callisto is very specific about who sees what information. He quickly diverts his eyes back to the stove as Glib continues, “nothing urgent this time. Just some paperwork that he decided would probably be best in your hands.”

“About our last… task?” Goodbid asks cautiously.

“Yep, apparently you have to fill out a field report about the…” he looks at Friday who is playing with her tablet in her hands. “The accidents.”

Goodbid, still holding Friday on his hip, takes the folder and instantly starts pouring over it.

“It’s really nothing important, it can wait ‘til tomorrow,” Glib says to him before turning Mercury with an apologetic look. “Make sure he gets some rest.”

“I always do,” Mercury jokes, taking Friday from the distracted businessman and putting her on the ground. He takes her tablet and puts it on the counter. “Go wash up for dinner.” He looks up to Glib as Friday hurries off, yelling something about how fast she can be. “Will you be staying for dinner? We’d love to have you!”

Glib shakes his head. “While I would really like some of your cooking, I got things to do back home. I’ll leave you and your boyfriend alone. Goodnight!” He turns and leaves, not acknowledging the confused look on the pilot’s face.

“Boyfriend? We aren’t dating?” he says quietly.

But then he starts to think about it. They do everything couples do. They cook for each other, go out to dinner when it's just the two of them, sleep in the same bed (Friday accidentally ruined the guest bed by spilling a number of strange liquids on it and the best solution was to just share a bed until it got replaced. They still share the bed three weeks later), share clothes, call each other pet names, buy each other small gifts, and are always together. Hell, Friday’s even started calling him Pa!

Mercury, lost in a stunned silence, barely notices when Goodbid clicks his tongue and pulls away from Mercury.

“I’m gonna take this upstairs, change, and come down for dinner, I’ll be only a minute, baby,” he explains quickly. He kisses the pilot on the cheek before running up the stairs and into his office.

Right, there’s also the cheek kisses.

Mercury, with the help of a chatty Friday, sets the table and awaits Goodbid’s return.

Once the businessman arrives they eat dinner quietly, discussing each other’s days; Mercury strategically waiting until Friday goes to her room to play to ask his real questions. Once he hears the little girl’s door shut, he takes a bite of his salad and looks at Goodbid who is sitting across from him.

“So, how long have we been dating?” he asks, not accusatory, just casually.

Goodbid scrunches his eyebrows in thought before saying, “about two months, why?”

Mercury starts laughing and drops his fork.

“Is that wrong? Did I miss an important date?” Goodbid asks, becoming increasingly more concerned.

Mercury, still laughing, shakes his head. “Well, that’s news to me!”

The businessman cocks his head to the side and stares confused, “What do you mean?”

“John, my love, when did we establish that we are dating?” Mercury asks, the disbelieving smile still plastered to his face.

“Uh, it was when we- we had uh…” Goodbid trails off, the gears turning too rapidly in his head for him to focus on speaking at the same time. Mercury looks at him expectantly with a barely concealed smile. “Oh my god.”

At that Mercury loses his composure entirely and starts howling with laughter. “Welcome to the crisis I’ve been having for the last twenty minutes!” he teases as Goodbid bluescreens in front of him. Mercury snickers for another minute before he regains control of his laughter and Goodbid’s brain boots back up. “So I suppose today is the official date, then?”

The businessman runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I suppose it has to be,” he says, completely dazed before a smile breaks across his face, “but now you’re officially mine.”

Before Mercury can respond there’s a small cheer from the stairs overlooking the dining room. “Woo!” Friday yells, “my dads are together!”

Mercury devolves back into laughter as Goodbid goes red to his ears.

“Friday! We talked about this!” he scolds. Friday’s laugh rings through the house as she darts back up into her room. Goodbid shoots out of his seat and runs upstairs, “get back here missy!” he yells, laughing the whole way.

*

October 9th, 2024

“Oh god,” Goodbid groans, spinning on his heels as he scans the entire food court. “Where did she go?”

Goodbid had stupidly decided to go to the mall with Friday and their friends. They were supposed to be shopping for a birthday gift for Mercury, but his eight-year-old has suddenly vanished from his side.

“Why am I getting deja vu?” Glib mumbles as he puts a hand on Emmy’s shoulder, pulling him closer as he anxiously wrings his hands and smoothes his black jacket, shrugging when Goodbid flashes him a confused look. “But I’m sure she’s fine, she wanders off all the time, mustache.” Glib looks for S.G. for backup, but they are rhythmically running their hands through their hair, eyes wide, unseeing, and worried as they stare out into the large food court.

“Dad,” Emmy whispers, tugging on Glib’s coat. “I see her.” He nods into the crowd, eyes intently focused on the white-haired girl.

“Bless you, Emerald!” Goodbid exclaims as he sprints to the other side of the massive food court, not paying attention to who Friday is chatting to. “Friday!” he cries as he scoops her up, crushing her against his chest in a bear hug. “You can’t keep wanderin’ off like that! You’re gonna get kidnapped, child!”

“But I didn’t wander off,” Friday’s muffled voice says.

“Like hell, you didn’t!” Goodbid scolds, “What do you call this then?”

“I think I know how this one goes,” a familiar New Zealand accent says with a bashful smile. “I think my line is ‘sorry, mate, I was just keeping her safe until security came.’” From behind a dumbfounded Goodbid, Glib, and S.G. laugh. He flashes Goodbid that smile that almost makes him forget why he was upset. Almost. “I’m Mercury by the way.”

“Mercury, what in the hell are you doin’ here?” Goodbid says through a slack jaw.

“That’s not how this goes!” Mercury teases as he takes a sip of his drink. He wipes his mouth on his sleeve before he speaks again, “Well, I was enjoying my lunch when this little girl-” he ruffles her hair to which she squeals, “came bounding up to me, and who am I to say no to this cute little face?”

“I saw Pa and wanted to say hi!” Friday explains as she wiggles her way out of her father’s arms.

“Friday, you didn’t say anything! You just disappeared!” Goodbid explains exasperatedly.

“Again,” Glib tacks on, sipping his bright red drink.

Goodbid nods before turning to Mercury. “Why didn’t you tell me you were gonna be at the mall?”

Mercury shrugs. “I was just gonna eat lunch and then return to work.”

“You should stay with us!” Friday interjects happily.

“Now Friday, we shouldn’t keep your Pa from his work,” Goodbid says gently as he places a hand on her shoulder to calm her down.

Mercury glances at his watch before shrugging. “Well, it’s not like I have anything better to do.”

“What about your work?” S.G. asks.

“Nothing dire, mostly busy work.”

“Stay with us! Stay with us!” Friday begins to chant, Emmy joining in not long after.

“And you’re sure it won’t put you behind?” Goodbid asks, already giving into his precious child’s demands.

“It’ll be fine, John.” Mercury stands up and presses a kiss to Goodbid’s cheek. “Besides I want to spend time with my husband.” He links their hands together, his gold and green wedding band catching in the light.

“Fine, as long as we aren’t inconveniencing you,” Goodbid -the absolute softy who is well aware of it, damn it!- giggles as he melts like butter in the sun.

As they begin walking off, S.G. begins to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Mercury asks, leaning over Goodbid to look at them.

“Friday was right again.”

Mercury and Goodbid share a confused look before looking back to S.G. for an explanation.

“Two years ago Friday demanded that Mercury stays with us because he was going to be your husband.” S.G. laughs before adding, “And she was right!”

Friday, who is holding onto Mercury’s hand giggles. “I’m always right,” she says in an innocent yet all-knowing tone.

“Well, Blondie, what do you think will happen next?” Glib asks jokingly as he saunters behind her.

Friday is quiet for a moment as she and Emmy whisper to each other before the little girl confidently says, “Uncle Glib is going to get a really big and strong husband who works like daddy and Pibling S.G. will get a pink-haired magic friend!”

“What?!”

[navybrat817]

Indulgence

Pairing: Dom!Bucky Barnes x Sub!Female Reader Summary: When Bucky calls, you go to him. Word Count: Over 5.7k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, D/s elements, bondage, aftercare, established arrangement, insecurities, pet names, longing, possessive behavior, world building, mix of canon and non-canon, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: I'm very excited for this new AU, lovelies! There's a deep bond between these two, but we know the road to love isn't always easy. ❤️Beta read by the amazing @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. And thanks to @targaryenvampireslayer for listening to me ramble about this part. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You had only been asleep for an hour when your phone went off, your eyes barely open as you reached for the device and saw the familiar name appear. “Bucky?” You answered drowsily.

“Hey, angel,” he said roughly, the pet name bringing a sleepy smile to your face. It sounded like he hadn't gotten much sleep either. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s okay. I have tomorrow off,” you said, a bit more alert as you sat up. “Are you at your apartment?”

“Yeah, I got back a bit ago,” he replied, swearing under his breath. “It’s really late. I just…”

“Need me,” you finished for him, stretching your back as you stood up. If he wanted to tell you he made it home safely from his latest assignment, he would've sent you a text. You knew by now that a call meant he had to see you in person. “Give me a few minutes?”

“You sure? I understand if you’d rather go back to bed.”

“I’m not going to get any sleep until I know you will, too,” you said. It would drive you crazy. “I want to come over. Okay?”

You wondered if the call dropped since you didn't hear anything on the other end. “Okay. I’ll send a car,” he said. He never let you pay for a ride yourself. “Thank you,” he added so softly you almost missed it.

“You don't need to thank me,” you assured him, though you appreciated hearing it. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he promised, your heart skipping a beat before he hung up.

You brushed your teeth again before you changed out of your pajamas. The outfit didn't exactly matter. If it had, he would’ve told you what you wear. It wouldn't stay on long anyway. You sensed that this was a night for him to simply blow off some steam or release anything still pent up from his assignment.

You were more than happy to help.

“On my way.” You messaged him a few minutes later as you went out to the car.

You politely greeted the driver before gazing out the window. If anyone had told you months ago that you’d be sleeping with the former Winter Soldier, you would’ve laughed at them for saying something so crazy. You never expected to meet the man, let alone connect with him. That was your life now though. You were sleeping with Bucky Barnes.

But it wasn't that cut and dry.

“I’ll be outside.” He sent back.

You smiled to yourself as you thought about Bucky, the man searching for himself again. After years of enduring horrific pain and having no control over his actions, he felt lost once he was free. In his eyes, he would never be able to right all the wrongs of the atrocities he was forced to commit, but making amends for his past was a start. It wasn't enough though to heal the cracks from within. It couldn't stop him from plunging into the deep abyss of his mind where it once felt whole.

He had to find a way to feel semi-normal again. He needed to do something good for someone else outside of his heroic duties. And he had to do so in an environment where he could express himself openly, honestly, and authentically with a person he could trust.

That was where you came into the picture.

If Bucky called, no matter what time of day and you were available, you went to his place in a car he paid for. You stayed until you were both satisfied. A more crude way to think of it was that you helped him fuck out his frustrations and gave him a means to inflict pleasure on someone instead of hurt. It was a routine you were used to by now.

“You wanna be my angel?”

You may be his angel, but you weren't his girlfriend. He wasn't in a place to have a typical relationship. You weren't just a fuck buddy either. You were his submissive of sorts, along with his confidant and a way for him to find release and some sense of normalcy.

While he sometimes fucked you like a whore, he never once treated you like one. He cared for your well-being and checked in on you the way a boyfriend would. He kept his place stocked with your favorite snacks. You didn't sleep with anyone else and neither did he. You looked out for each other.

Unlike your last boyfriend.

As far as arrangements went, you could do much worse. There were rules set in place. Bucky was honest about his needs and helped you heal your wounds from the failure of your previous relationship. But the more time you spent with him, the more you wanted to be with him.

Was it a recipe for disaster?

The drive seemed faster than usual because before you knew it the car stopped in front of Bucky’s apartment building. Your pulse quickened when you saw the brunette standing by the door, donned in his usual leather jacket. Even from a short distance, he looked massive and heat bloomed in your core as you knew what was to come. He moved to the curb with more grace than a man his size should have, his hard blue eyes set on you through the glass before he opened the door.

His gaze practically set your heart on fire and it went full ablaze when he tenderly smiled. He was stunningly beautiful even in the dark of night. It almost hurt to look back at him.

You had it bad.

“Hey,” he said, offering you his gloved hand to help you out. You hardly ever saw him out without his vibranium hand covered. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hey,” you smiled softly, giving the driver a quick thanks before you got out. “You, too.”

Bucky's large hand moved to the small of your back as he gently led you toward the building and opened the door. He didn't like to linger outside for too long. Neither of you spoke as he guided you to his apartment on the first floor and you didn't push him to make small talk. It was a delicate arrangement and some nights didn't call for filler.

Still, you tried to get a read on his emotions. There was a stiffness to his stance, but he didn't appear upset or angry. You also didn’t spot any obvious injuries.

“Were you hurt?” You asked as he took his keys out. He was only gone for a couple of days, but you knew how dangerous the missions were.

He turned and stared at you, not at all surprised by your question since you always asked. “No, I didn’t get hurt,” he assured you, reaching up to scratch at the stubble on his chin. “But I can't exactly talk about it either. I’m sorry.”

You nodded in understanding. It was information you weren't privy to and you doubted he called tonight to talk about it anyway. He peeled back layers of himself, yet there was so much underneath that you didn't know about. You cared for him regardless.

“Bucky, you don't have to apologize for that,” you reminded him.

“I just feel bad. You can tell me about your work, but I can't always talk about mine,” he said, looking both ways before he poked his head into his apartment.

“My job isn’t as ‘exciting’ as yours,” you teased before he let you in.

Bucky had a nice place. The partially exposed brick walls paired well with the hardwood floors. Tasteful, but not extravagant. The thick curtains in the living room matched the drapes in his bedroom. Since he occasionally slept on the floor by the oversized chair, it helped to block out the sun. He didn't have much as far as decor, but he did have a piece of art that his best friend, Steve, drew hung up in the hall.

He also had a bowl that you made on the console to hold his keys, which he promptly set them in.

It meant something that he even let you into his apartment when others close to him had never been invited.

“Need anything to drink?” He asked, slipping his jacket and glove off.

He had an empty glass waiting on the kitchen island in case you did. While you indulged in a drink now and then, he wouldn't allow you to have too many. He refused to have sex with you if you were inebriated. Said it took consent away and you wouldn't be alert enough to use a safeword if necessary.

He wouldn't budge on that rule.

“No, thanks,” you answered, gazing at him.

His T-shirt strained against his biceps, one flesh and one vibranium. You could still smell his cologne from the small distance across the room, amber and cedarwood. Warm, comforting, dominating. All the things he was to you.

Not the monster he sometimes believed himself to be.

You eyed him as he poured himself a shot of whiskey, the need to soothe him coming forward when you caught a distant look in his eyes. He didn't even make a move to down his drink as he set his hands on the counter and stared off. Maybe he couldn't give you the details about what happened, but you could take care of him.

Because as much as he sometimes had to have control over you, both of you had power in your relationship.

“Bucky?” You gently called out, pulling him from his trance. “You can talk to me, even if you have to keep some things to yourself.”

His shoulders dropped as he sighed. “Three months.”

“I'm sorry?”

“Three months since we started this,” he answered.

You realized he was right when you remembered the date. It felt longer yet still brand new. “Yeah. Three great months,” you smiled.

A knot formed in your stomach when he didn't smile back. “And you still feel safe with me?” He asked, gripping the counter so hard you thought it might crumble in his hands. “You really trust that I won’t hurt you?”

Your smile slipped, the questions like a punch to the gut as you walked toward him. You stopped a foot in front of him to give him some breathing room as he made eye contact. Where had that come from? What happened to make him question that?

“Of course, I feel safe. Not only do I feel safe with you and trust you, I know that you won't hurt me. You will always take care of me,” you said with fierce determination, yet with a vulnerability you couldn't hide. “If I didn't believe that, I wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t submit to you.”

You told him the same thing the day you two agreed on this arrangement. He wasn't your boyfriend, but he wasn't like your ex. He wouldn't just throw you away without a second thought or ignore your needs. You also had faith in him that he wouldn't harm you.

And as much as you trusted him, he trusted you that much more. If he didn't, he wouldn't have called you in the first place. That meant he still trusted himself around you.

He looked away and asked above a whisper, “Do you still think I'm a good man?”

“Yes,” you replied without hesitation, your heart aching when his jaw clenched. “Bucky, look at me, please.”

He slowly made eye contact with you, a storm swirling in his stare.

“You are a good man,” you stated, needing to reach the part of him that believed it. “And it doesn't matter how many times you ask me that, my answer isn't going to change. Ever.”

Bucky was silent, his breathing the only sound in the space. You were worried that you said the wrong thing before he pushed himself away from the counter. Instead of moving back when he approached, you stood firm, ready to brace the storm. You sometimes felt like a mouse confronted by a lion when he got close, but it sent a thrill through you. Because you meant what you said.

You trusted him and he made you feel safe.

“I just had to hear you say it,” he whispered as he cupped your face.

A fire lit within you as Bucky captured your mouth with his. There was care and tenderness beneath the hunger and you found yourself clinging to his arms as you kissed him back. No one before him had ever kissed you with such desire, such passion. It had you chasing his lips when he pulled away too soon.

“Now go to my room, get undressed, and kneel on the bed facing the headboard,” he ordered, his voice low and allowing the words to sink in just in case you had any objections. Because he was done talking and ready to play.

So were you.

It took you a moment to answer since you had to bite back a whine. “Yes, Sir,” you whispered, feeling his eyes on you as you walked to his bedroom.

You focused on keeping your breathing even as you shed your clothes, taking a moment to fold them before you set them on the chair in the corner. The only time you left your garments on the floor was if Bucky put them there or had you put on a show for him. It was his space and you respected it.

He hadn't told you how long to wait for him, but your heart thumped as you knelt on the queen sized bed. You didn’t see any toys as you glanced around, but there was water, snacks, wipes, and the soft blanket you loved waiting on the nightstand. It took a moment for you to spot that there was a blindfold and scarf on top of the blanket. Your womb clenched in anticipation, an exquisite feeling knowing your patience and obedience would reward you.

Bucky walked through the door a minute later and shut it behind him. The energy shifted completely, both of you ready for each other. As much as you wanted to lift your gaze and look behind you, you kept your eyes downcast as he approached the bed. He cupped your cheek once he was close enough and forced your eyes to meet his.

“My beautiful angel,” he whispered, brushing his thumb along your skin as you glowed from the praise. He reached for the scarf and ran his fingers across the silk as he glanced at you. “As much as I hate to cover those beautiful eyes of yours and restrain you, I want you to concentrate on my touch tonight. Just let me have you.”

A shiver rolled down your spine as you nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Hands behind your back,” he said, moving to secure them once you did so. The silk was soft against your skin, almost as soft as the kiss to your shoulder. After years of being restrained, you knew he felt guilty at times taking your control away. The difference was you gave yourself to him willingly. “Tell me your safewords.”

“Green is good. Yellow to pause,” you stated, testing the scarf. He never bound you too tight, but it was enough that you couldn’t slip your wrists free. “Red to stop."

“Good girl,” he praised, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You turned your head a fraction so he could slot his lips properly over yours. Gentle, yet hot enough to melt your insides. “My good girl.”

He maneuvered you so you were in the middle of the bed and spread your knees a bit further apart. He joined you on his knees, still fully clothed. Casting your gaze down again, you bit your lip when you saw the prominent bulge in his pants. A hand came up to grasp your chin before you could stare for too long and lifted your head. If you were still wearing your panties, they would’ve dampened from his darkened gaze.

“So beautiful and all mine tonight,” he said.

“I’m yours, Sir,” you whispered, the word “always” unspoken.

“And I know you were staring,” he smirked, his fingers working the button and zipper of his jeans. His impressive cock sprang free once he pushed his underwear and pants down far enough and you wished you could lean down and swirl your tongue around the large head. “Greedy angel. Just desperate to have my cock in you.”

“Yes, Sir. Please,” you begged.

He made a show of lifting the blindfold before he slipped it over your head, your body tensing up when your world went dark. Sight was one of the senses you relied on the most. It helped you absorb most of the world around you. And now it was temporarily gone. It felt like your heart would burst from your chest as you breathed a bit heavier. But Bucky was there, softly touching your face until you relaxed.

“Breathe, angel. I’ve got you,” he whispered, drawing a gasp from you when his lips touched yours. His hands mapped your body, brushing along your breasts down to your thighs. You felt him everywhere. “Color?”

“Green,” you whispered as a hand moved around your back and forced you to arch. He was careful not to hurt your arms. “Please.”

Your head fell back with a moan as his lips closed around your nipple. You could practically feel that he looked up at you as he gently suckled. A wave of arousal crashed through you as he pinched the other. No one had ever lavished your body with such attention the way Bucky did.

“I love seeing you like this,” he murmured against the swell of your breast. “Helpless. Trembling. Needy.”

You didn't mean to let such a wanton moan escape, but he made you feel needed. He made you feel wanted. It was a beautiful thing to surrender to him.

“And I love that I'm the one you trust to take care of you.”

“I trust you with my life, Sir,” you moaned.

And your heart, even though he had the power to break it.

Your chest suddenly felt colder when Bucky pulled his mouth and hand away and you shook from the loss of his heat. His vibranium hand touched your torso to remind you he was close when he shifted closer to you on the bed. You gasped when he dragged his hand down and you were helpless to do anything but feel when it slid between your legs.

“You're doing so well for me,” he said, his teeth grazing your neck as his fingers spread your sopping folds. He teased you, letting you soak his metal fingers as you mewled. He lightly bit you again when he replaced his fingers with his cock, sliding along your slit, but not pushing inside you just yet. “You want me inside you? You need me to fuck you, don't you? Tell me.”

Your cheeks flamed as you whined. “I need you to fuck me, Sir,” you said, trying to widen your thighs to take him in more.

“I will. I'm going to give you everything you need,” he rumbled, gripping your hips with strong and capable hands to keep you still. “And you’re going to let me ruin your pretty little pussy with my cock.”

You panted with want at his possessiveness. Filthy words were something you never thought you’d hear from someone associated with The Avengers and they kicked your body into overdrive. You ached to have him split you open. “Ruin me, Sir.”

In one swift move he lifted you, pulled you into his lap, and buried himself to the hilt. Your mouth fell open as you let out a cry, every inch of his cock stretching and making itself at home in your welcoming cunt. You couldn't brace yourself on his shoulders with your hands behind your back. You couldn't see the ecstasy in his eyes as he let you adjust to his size, but you didn't have to. Not with the way he dug his fingers in and groaned against your shoulder.

He took you to heaven when he was inside you.

“Color,” he said against your skin, thrusting his hips up once.

“Green,” you moaned, reminding yourself to stay still when you wanted him to move. “So green.”

“Good girl,” he whispered, gently kissing up to your ear. “Keep being good while I bounce you up and down on my cock.”

Your eyes fluttered behind the blindfold as he pulled you up and slammed you back down on his cock. Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and your heart beat frantically in your chest. It was difficult to string thoughts together, but they all went back to him and how good he made you feel. How he made you feel beautiful.

Flaws and all.

“It’s like your cunt was made for me, angel. Practically crying all over my cock,” his voice was smoky as sounds of pleasure tumbling from your lips. The next moan was softer when he slid a hand up to your neck, resting it there as the other kept your hips flush against his. “You deserve to feel good because you are good. So fucking good.”

Your lower lip trembled as a sob worked its way to your throat, “Thank you, Sir,” you whimpered before he squeezed.

“And I. Deserve. You.” He punctuated each word with a deep thrust. You didn’t have to see his face to know the fury that surfaced. “My angel. Mine.”

It overwhelmed you as he bounced you in his lap, sinking you down onto him again and again. His thrusts were almost unforgiving, but the hand on your throat didn’t tighten anymore. He couldn’t hurt you. He wouldn’t hurt you.

“I’m your angel, Sir,” you moaned as he reduced you to a needy wet mess.

“I wanna tear you apart,” he growled against your lips. “And put you back together so you still feel me when you fucking breathe.”

“Tear me apart, Sir,” you gasped, a plea for him to use you more. Your thighs hit his as he thrust up and all you could do was take it. He touched places inside you no one else could reach, physically and emotionally, and you never wanted it to stop. “Please!”

“Tell me you need me to come inside you and I’ll let you come,” he ordered, the hand on your neck squeezing a fraction. “Say it.”

“Come inside me, Sir,” you begged.

“Bucky,” he breathed against your lips. “Say. My. Name.”

Your next breath was shaky. He always had you call him “Sir” on nights like this. Why was this different?

Your orgasm began to crest, but you couldn’t let go until you gave him what he wanted. And he’d give you what you needed. “Come inside me, Bucky,” you exhaled. “Please.”

He swiped his thumb along your pulse with a deep groan, his cock still driving up into you. “I will after you come,” he promised, his tongue sliding past your parted lips and pulling away all too quickly. “C’mon, angel. Come for me. Show me you’re mine.”

The sob you tampered down earlier resuraced, wrenched from your throat as you came. Your release continued, practically leaking around his cock as tears slid out beneath the blindfold. You were beyond rational thought as pleasure spiraled through you, vaguely aware that he thrust through it to chase his own end.

“Good. Fucking. Girl.” He grunted, pulsing hotly inside you as he filled you up.

Both of you panted as you continued to drift from euphoria, your heart still beating wildly. You were warm, but your body shivered as he lifted you up. Your combined release slid from your aching cunt once he slipped free. You floated and wanted him to catch you, but you couldn’t put your arms around him.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered when you let out a whimper. He made quick work of untying your wrists so he could lay you down properly and wipe away the tears still on your cheeks. “I’m going to take the blindfold off.”

Your eyes stayed shut for a moment when Bucky removed it, but you cracked them open when you wanted to see him. Your vision slowly cleared as you blinked a few times, your mind still floating as he came into view. He called you an angel, but he was the one who had a halo around his head at the moment. A gorgeous angel who had unrightfully had his wings taken away. He smiled like he wanted to eat you alive, but his touch was nothing short of tender when he brought his hand to your face.

“So fucking beautiful. You did so well for me. Fuck, I just wanna clean you with my tongue and fill you up all over again,” he praised as you clenched around nothing and whined. As hot as it sounded, you needed a bit of rest after that. “Not tonight,” he smiled, keeping a hand on you as he grabbed a wipe.

A reason he had everything close by was because you craved his touch after sex. If he ever got too far away, you whimpered and reached for him. It made you feel needy, but he assured you that he needed to keep touching you just as badly.

It just wasn’t fair that he looked so composed.

Bucky continued to shower you with soft praise as he cleaned you up. It didn’t take him long before he wrapped the soft blanket around you, trembles moved through your entire body as he put his arms around you, too. He took aftercare very seriously. It was a way for you to feel cared for and nurtured while allowing your body and brain to return back to normal. He never wanted you to experience negativity or sadness after any sort of session, especially an intense one.

You were aware that he moved you closer in his arms and rested his cheek against the top of your head, but you weren't ready to speak yet. It always took you a minute to come back to yourself and he was never one to rush or push you. If relaxing in his embrace was what it took to return to the world, he was more than content to keep you in his arms.

At least, that was what he told you.

You opened your eyes after a few minutes. Your heartbeat was back to a steady rhythm, but you still weren't ready to move yet. You were warm and safe. Bucky was there to take care of you. But what about him?

Had you taken care of him?

Bucky had a faint smile on his face when you lifted your head, his shoulders relaxed and eyes soft. Like he was at ease with everything around him. “Welcome back, angel,” he whispered, peppering your face with light kisses.

“Hey,” you smiled tiredly, your voice a little hoarse as you brought a hand to his hair, happy that you could touch him again. Judging by the way his eyes slipped shut for a moment before he opened them, he missed your touch, too.

“You okay?”

“I am and so are you. You're okay.” It wasn't a question. Whatever haunted him earlier was gone.

For now.

He didn't tear his gaze away as he reached for the water behind him, which you gratefully accepted as he put it to your lips. “You amaze me, you know? You just came back to yourself, but you're talking about me being okay.”

“Isn’t that why you call me?” You asked with a small frown, taking another large sip. “To help you?”

His brows furrowed. “It’s not just about me. This is about you, too.”

You took one more drink before you could say something stupid. Yes, this was about you, too. How he didn't push too far. How he’d hold you after sex and talk with you because those things were important to you. How he made you feel cherished and wanted for a short while.

You just didn't want to admit that he was a constant in your mind. But would it be so wrong if you did? Even if he’d never date you, didn't he have a right to know how you felt?

Communication was key and you would have to eventually tell him if those feelings persisted.

“It’s about both of us and I just want you to be okay,” is what you said because it was the truth.

He set the water aside and cupped your cheek, his calloused hand a little cool, but nice. You almost wished you could hide from his knowing eyes, but he didn’t press you for more. “I am now,” he said, swallowing a little. “I just couldn't let you see me tonight.”

Worry filled his eyes like he may have upset you, but you shook your head. You had seen his scars, but he was never obligated to show you his body. “You're letting me see you now,” you said, scooting closer as he brought your wrist to his mouth to kiss it.

You thought about how the evening played out. How he asked if you thought he was a good man. How he demanded that you speak his name. And how he said he deserved you. Either something happened while he was gone or someone said or did something to get to him. You wished you knew what it was since he didn’t expand on what had been eating away at him before.

“And before you ask, you didn't hurt me,” you told him, knowing the question was coming. You appreciated that he cared enough to check.

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “Good because I’d never stop hating myself if I did,” he admitted, looking at the ceiling for a moment. “You don't deserve that kind of pain.”

Your heart swelled, not letting any past hurt enter your mind. He made you believe that you deserved better than what you had. It was a good feeling.

“Neither do you. And that's a reason why safewords exist. Both of us can use them,” you reminded him. Like aftercare, he took the words seriously. He listened to you. And if he ever got overwhelmed, he had every right to stop it the same way you did. “So no self-hate tonight.”

He huffed in mock annoyance. “Yes, ma’am. And speaking of self-hate,” he teased, tilting his head to look your way. “I really don’t want to go to therapy tomorrow.”

There was a forced calmness in his blue eyes as you assessed him. “You still don’t like your therapist,” you stated.

One of the conditions of his pardon was that he had to go to therapy. It was meant to help him process his thoughts and past experiences in order to work through them. Though he didn’t tell you what went on in his sessions as it was none of your business, he didn’t keep it a secret from you that the doctor was far from his favorite person.

You wondered if Bucky told her about you.

“What’s there to like?” He asked.

You smiled a little, knowing better than to poke the bear and say she probably wasn't that bad. “Well, being able to speak to someone who provides non-judgemental and empathetic support is one thing.”

“That’s why I like talking to you,” he said, the affection in his voice making your heart skip a beat.

“Oh,” you said, not sure what else to say.

Moments like that made you think he cared. No, that wasn’t right. You knew he cared about you. But hearing things like that made you feel like there was hope for more and he wasn’t ready for that.

Hope was both a wonderful and dangerous thing.

“Have you met anyone else?” He asked suddenly, moving his hand to your back.

It was a question Bucky asked every time he had you over. He said from the start if there was another man in your life that you’d rather be with, someone who could offer you more, he’d step aside. There wasn't anyone else. You didn't want anyone else.

And while it was admirable that he would walk away if that ever changed, your heart ached at the thought that he’d easily let you go. Because at the end of the day he wasn't ready for a relationship. Not yet.

Even if he was, who said he wanted one with you?

“No, I haven't met anyone,” you said, feeling the warm breath of his exhale against your skin as his hand moved up and down your back. It relaxed you more and you found yourself fighting a yawn. “Have you?”

“No,” he chuckled. The crinkles by his eyes made him look carefree. “Not since you saved me.”

You shut your eyes, afraid that tears would well up if you looked at him. “I didn't save you. All I did was buy you a coffee one afternoon,” you whispered dismissively.

That day changed your life.

“I’m going to let that slide since you're sleepy, but I’m going to remind you when you're wide awake that you did a lot more than that,” he spoke. He held you a little tighter when you stayed quiet. You were more tired than you thought. “Get some sleep, angel. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You let your eyes shut at his command. “Thank you for taking care of me, Bucky.”

“Thank you for taking a chance on me.”

There was something else unspoken in the air, but a tender kiss to your forehead stopped you from reading too deeply into it.

In the morning, he’d send you back to your place after he made you breakfast. He’d text you later to make sure you were okay. He would continue to check in and you would do your best not to fall for him more. Because one day he wouldn't need you anymore. You didn't know when that day would come, but tonight you could indulge in the fantasy that Bucky wanted you to be his girl.

Permanently.

I just want these two happy and together. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[yamayuandadu]

Nonconformity, ambiguity, fluidity and misinterpretation: on the gender of Inanna (and a few others)

This article wasn’t really planned far in advance. It started as a response to a question I got a few weeks ago:

However, as I kept working on it, it became clear a simple ask response won’t do - the topic is just too extensive to cover this way. It became clear it has to be turned into an article comprehensively discussing all major aspects of the perception of Inanna’s gender, both in antiquity and in modern scholarship. In the process I’ve also incorporated what was originally meant as a pride month special back in 2023 (but never got off the ground) into it, as well as some quick notes on a 2024 pride month special that never came to be in its intended form, as I realized I would just be repeating what I already wrote on wikipedia.

To which degree can we speak of genuine fluidity or ambiguity of Inanna’s gender, and to which of gender non-conforming behavior? Which aspects of Inanna’s character these phenomena may or may not be related to? What is overestimated and what underestimated? What did Neo-Assyrian kings have in common with medieval European purveyors of Malleus Maleficarum?  Is a beard always a type of facial hair? Why should you be wary of any source which calls gala “priests of Inanna”? 

Answers to all of these questions - and much, much more (the whole piece is over 19k words long) - await under the cut.

Zeus is basically Tyr: on names and cognates

The meaning of a theonym - the proper name of a deity - can provide quite a lot of information about its bearer. Therefore, I felt obliged to start this article with inquiries pertaining to Inanna’s name - or rather names. I will not repeat how the two names - Inanna and Ishtar - came to be used interchangeably; this was covered on this blog enough times, most recently here. Through the article, I will consistently refer to the main discussed deity as Inanna for the ease of reading, but I’d appreciate it if you read the linked explanation for the name situation before moving forward with this one.

Sumerian had no grammatical gender, and nouns were divided broadly into two categories, “humans, deities and adjacent abstract terms” and “everything else” (Ilona Zsolnay, Analyzing Constructs: A Selection of Perils, Pitfalls, and Progressions in Interrogating Ancient Near Eastern Gender, p. 462; Piotr Michalowski, On Language, Gender, Sex, and Style in the Sumerian Language, p. 211). This doesn’t mean deities (let alone humans) were perceived as genderless, though. Furthermore, the lack of grammatical masculine or feminine gender did not mean that specific words could not be coded as masculine or feminine (Analyzing Constructs…, p. 471; one of my favorite examples are the two etymologically unrelated words for female and male friends, respectively malag and guli).

While occasionally doubts are expressed regarding the meaning of Inanna’s name, most authors today accept that it can be interpreted as derived from the genitive construct nin-an-ak - “lady of heaven” (Paul-Alain Beaulieu, The Pantheon of Uruk During the Neo-Babylonian Period, p. 104). The title nin is effectively gender neutral (Julia M. Asher-Greve, Joan Goodnick Westenholz, Goddesses in Context: On Divine Powers, Roles, Relationships and Gender in Mesopotamian Textual and Visual Sources, p. 6) - it occurs in names of male deities (Ningirsu, Ninurta, Ninazu, Ninagal, Nindara, Ningublaga...), female ones (Ninisina, Ninkarrak, Ninlil, Nineigara, Ninmug…), deities whose gender shifted or varied from place to place or from period to period (Ninsikila, Ninshubur, Ninsianna…) and deities whose gender cannot be established due to scarcity of evidence (mostly Early Dynastic oddities whose names cannot even be properly transcribed). However, we can be sure that Inanna’s name was regarded as feminine based on its Emesal form, Gašananna (Timothy D. Leonard, Ištar in Ḫatti: The Disambiguation of Šavoška and Associated Deities in Hittite Scribal Practice, p. 36).

The matter is a bit more complex when it comes to the Akkadian name Ishtar. In contrast with Sumerian, Akkadian, which belongs to the eastern branch of the family of Semitic languages, had two grammatical genders, masculine and feminine, though the gender of nouns wasn’t necessarily reflected in verbal forms, suffixes and so on (Analyzing Constructs…, p. 472-473). In contrast with the name Inanna, the etymology of the Akkadian moniker is less clear. The root has been identified, ˤṯtr, but its meaning is a subject of a heated debate (Aren M. Wilson-Wright, Athtart. The Transmission and Transformation of a Goddess in the Late Bronze Age, p. 22-23; the book is based on the author’s doctoral dissertation, which can be read here). Based on evidence from the languages from the Ethiopian branch of the Semitic family, which offer (distant) cognates, Wilson-Wright suggests it might have originally been an ordinary feminine (but not marked with an expected suffix) noun meaning “star” which then developed into a theonym in multiple languages (Athtart…, p. 21) She tentatively suggests that it might have referred to a specific celestial body (perhaps Venus) due to the existence of a more generic term for “star” in most Semitic languages, which must have developed very early (p. 24). Thus the emergence of Ishtar would essentially parallel the emergence of Shamash, whose name is in origin the ordinary noun for the sun (p. 25). This seems like an elegant solution, but as pointed out by other researchers some of the arguments employed might be shaky, so it’s best to remain cautious about quoting Wilson-Wright’s conclusions as fact, even if they are more sound than some of the older, largely forgotten, proposals (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 40-41).

In addition to uncertainties pertaining to the meaning of the root ˤṯtr, it’s also unclear why the name Ishtar starts with an i in Akkadian, considering cognate names of deities from other cultures fairly consistently start with an a. The early Akkadian form Eštar isn’t a mystery - it reflects a broader pattern of phonetic shifts in this language, and as such requires no separate inquiry, but the subsequent shift from e to i is almost unparalleled. Wilson-Wright suggests that it might have been the result of contamination with Inanna, which seems quite compelling to me given that by the second millennium BCE the names had already been interchangeable for centuries (Athtart…, p. 18).

As for grammatical gender, in Akkadian (as well as in the only other language from the East Semitic branch, Eblaite), the theonym Ishtar lacks a feminine suffix but consistently functions as grammatically feminine nonetheless. I got a somewhat confusing ask recently, which I assume was the result of misinterpretation of this information as applying to the gender of the bearer of the name as opposed to just grammatical gender of the name itself:

Occasional confusion might stem from the fact that in the languages from the West Semitic family (like ex. Ugaritic or Phoenician) there’s no universal pattern - in some of them the situation looks like in Akkadian, in some cognates without the feminine suffix refer to a male deity, furthermore goddesses with names which are cognate but have a feminine suffix (-t; ex. Ugaritic Ashtart) added are attested (Athtart…, p. 16). 

In Akkadian a form with a -t suffix (ištart) doesn’t appear as a theonym, only as the generic word, “goddess” - and it seems to have a distinct etymology, with the -t as a leftover from plural ištarātu (Athtart…, p. 18). The oldest instances of a derivative of the theonym Ishtar being used as an ordinary noun, dated to the Old Babylonian period (c. 1800 BCE), spell it as ištarum, without such a suffix (Goddess in Context…, p. 80). As a side note, it’s worth pointing out that both obsolete vintage translations and dubious sources, chiefly online, are essentially unaware of the existence of any version of this noun, which leads to propagation of incorrect claims about equation of deities (Goddesses in Context…, p. 82).

It has been argued that a further form with the -t suffix, “Ishtarat”, might appear in Early Dynastic texts from Mari, but this might actually be a misreading. This has been originally suggested by Manfred Krebernik all the way back in 1984. He concluded the name seems to actually be ba-sùr-ra-at (Baśśurat; something like “announcer of good news”; Zur Lesung einiger frühdynastischer Inschriften aus Mari, p. 165). Other researchers recently resurrected this proposal (Gianni Marchesi and Nicolo Marchetti, Royal Statuary of Early Dynastic Mesopotamia, p. 228; accepted by Dominique Charpin in a review of their work as well). I feel it’s important to point out that nothing really suggested that the alleged “Ishtarat” had much to do with Ishtar (or Ashtart, for that matter) in the first place. The closest thing to any theological information in the two brief inscriptions she appears in is that she is listed alongside the personified river ordeal, Id, in one of them. Marchesi and Marchetti suggest they form a couple (Royal Statuary…, p. 228); in absence of other evidence I feel caution is necessary. I’m generally wary of asserting deities who appear together once in an oath, greeting or dedicatory formula are necessarily a couple when there is no supplementary evidence. Steve A. Wiggins illustrated this issue well when he rhetorically asked if we should treat Christian saints the same way, which would lead to quite thrilling conclusions in cases like the numerous churches named jointly after St. Andrew and St. George and so on (A Reassessment of Asherah With Further Considerations of the Goddess, p. 101).

Even without Ishtarat, the Mariote evidence remains quite significant for the current topic, though. There’s a handful of third millennium attestations of a deity sometimes referred to as “male Ishtar” (logographically INANNA.NITA; there’s no ambiguity thanks to the second logogram) in modern publications - mostly from Mari. The problem is that this is most likely a forerunner of Ugaritic Attar, as opposed to a male form of the deity of Uruk/Zabalam/Akkad/you get the idea (Mark S. Smith, The God Athtar in the Ancient Near East and His Place in KTU 1.6 I, esp. p. 629; note that the deity with the epithet Sarbat is, as far as I know, generally identified as female though). 

Ultimately there is no strong evidence for Attar being associated with Inanna (his Mesopotamian counterpart in the trilingual list from Ugarit is Lugal-Marada) or even with Ashtart (Smith tentatively proposes the two were associated - The God Athtar.., p. 631 - but more recently in ‛Athtart in Late Bronze Age Syrian Texts he ruled it out, p. 36-37) so he’s not relevant at all to this topic. Cognate name =/= related deity, least you want to argue Zeus is actually Tyr; the similarly firmly male South Arabian ˤAṯtar is even less relevant (Athtart. The Transmission and Transformation…, p. 13). Smith goes as far as speculating the male cognates might have been a secondary development, which would render them even more irrelevant to this discussion (‛Athtart in Late…, p. 35).

There are also three Old Akkadian names which might refer to a masculine deity based on the form of the other element (Eštar-damqa, “E. is good”, Eštar-muti “E. is my husband”, and Eštar-pāliq, “E. is a harp”), but they’re an outlier and according to Wilson-Wright might be irrelevant for the discussion of the gender of Ishtar and instead refer to a deity with a cognate name from outside Mesopotamia (Athtart. The Transmission and Transformation…, p. 22). 

There’s also a possible isolated piece of evidence for a masculine deity with a cognate name in Ebla. Eblaite texts fairly consistently indicate that Inanna’s local counterpart Ašdar was a female deity. In addition to the equivalence between them attested in a lexical list, her main epithet, Labutu (“lioness”) indicates she was a feminine figure. However, Alfonso Archi argues that in a single case the name seems to indicate a god, as they are followed by an otherwise unattested “spouse” (DAM-sù), Datinu (Išḫara and Aštar at Ebla: Some Definitions, p. 16). The logic behind this is unclear to me and no subsequent publications offer any explanations so far. It might be worth noting that the Eblaite pantheon seemingly was able to accommodate two sun deities, one male and one female, so perhaps this is a similar situation.

It should also be noted that the femininity of Ishtar despite the lack of a feminine suffix in her name is not entirely unparalleled - in addition to Ebla, in areas like the Middle Euphrates deities with cognate names without the -t suffix might not necessarily be masculine, even when they start with a- and not i- like in Akkadian. In some cases the matter cannot be solved at all - there is no evidence regarding the gender of Aštar of the Stars (aš-tar MUL) from Emar, for instance. Meanwhile Aštar of Ḫaši and Aštar-ṣarbat (“poplar Aštar”) from the same site are evidently feminine (Athtart. The Transmission and Transformation…, p. 106). At least in the last case that’s because the name actually goes back to the Akkadian form, though (p. 85).

To sum up: despite some minor uncertainties pertaining to the Akkadian name, there’s no strong reason to suspect that any greater degree of ambiguity is built into either Inanna or Ishtar - at least as far as the names alone go. The latter was even seen as sufficiently feminine coded to serve as the basis for a generic designation of goddesses. 

Obviously, there is more to a deity than just the sum of the meanings of their names. For this reason, to properly evaluate what was up with Inanna’s gender it will be necessary to look into her three main roles: these of a war deity, personification of Venus and love deity.

Masculinity, heroism and maledictory genderbening: the warlike Inanna

An Old Babylonian plaque depicting armed Inanna (wikimedia commons)

Martial first, marital second?

War and other related affairs will be the first sphere of Inanna’s activity I’ll look into, since it feels like it’s the one least acknowledged online and in various questionable publications. Ilona Zsolnay points out that this even extends to serious scholarship to a degree, and that as a result her military side is arguably understudied (Ištar, Goddess of War, Pacifier of Kings: An Analysis of Ištar’s Martial Role in the Maledictory Sections of the Assyrian Royal Inscriptions, p. 389). The oldest direct evidence for the warlike role of Inanna are Early Dynastic theophoric names such as Inanna-ursag, “Inanna is a warrior”. Further examples are provided by a variety of both Sumerian and Akkadian sources from across the second half of the third millennium BCE. This means it’s actually slightly older than the first evidence for an association with love and eroticism, which can only be dated with certainty to the Old Akkadian period when it is directly mentioned for the first time, specifically in love incantations (Joan Goodnick Westenholz, Inanna and Ishtar in the Babylonian World, p. 336).

Deities associated with combat were anything but uncommon in Mesopotamia. There was no singular war god - Ninurta, Nergal, Zababa, Ilaba, Tishpak and an entire host of other figures, some recognized all across the region, some limited to one specific area or even just a single city, shared a warlike disposition. Naturally, the details could vary - Ninurta was essentially an avenger restoring order disturbed by supernatural threats, Nergal was a war god because he was associated with just about anything pertaining to inflicting death, and so on. 

All the examples I’ve listed are male, but similar roles are also attested for multiple goddesses, not just Inanna. Those include closely related deities like Annunitum or Belet-ekallim, most of her foreign counterparts, the astral deity Ninisanna (more on this figure later), but also firmly independent examples like Ninisina and the Middle Euphrates slash Ugaritic Anat (Ilona Zsolnay, Do Divine Structures of Gender Mirror Mortal Structures of Gender?, p. 114).

The god list An = Anum preserves a whole series of epithets affirming Inanna’s warlike character - Ninugnim, “lady of the army”; Ninšenšena, “lady of battle”; Ninmea, “lady of combat”; Ninintena, “lady of warriorhood” (tablet IV, lines 20-23; Wilfred G. Lambert and Ryan D. Winters, An = Anum and Related Lists, p.162). It is also well represented in literary texts. She is a “destroyer of lands” (kurgulgul) in Ninmesharra, for instance (Markham J. Geller, The Free Library Inanna Prism Reconsidered, p. 93).

At least some of the terms employed to describe Inanna in other literary compositions were strongly masculine-coded, if not outright masculine. The poem Agušaya characterizes her as possessing “manliness” (zikrūtu) and “heroism” (eṭlūtu; this word can also refer to youthful masculinity, see Analyzing Constructs…, p. 471) and calls her a “hero” (qurādu). Another example, a hymn dated to the reign of Third Dynasty of Ur or First Dynasty of Isin opens with an incredibly memorable line - “O returning manly hero, Inanna the lady (...)” (or, to follow Thorkild Jacobsen’s older translation, which involves some gap filling - “O you Amazon, queen—from days of yore, paladin, hero, soldier”; The Free Library… p. 93). 

A little bit of context is necessary here: while “heroism” might seem neutral to at least some modern readers, in ancient Mesopotamia it was seen as a masculine trait (Ištar, Goddess of War…, p. 392-393). It’s worth noting that eṭlūtum, which you’ve seen translated as “heroism” above can be translated in other context as  “youthful masculinity” (Analyzing Constructs…, p. 471). On the other hand, while zikrūtu is derived from zikāru, “male”, it might refer both straightforwardly to masculinity and more abstractly to heroism (Ištar, Goddess of War…, p. 397).

However, the same hymn which calls Inanna a “manly hero” refers to her with a variety of feminine titles like nugig. There’s even an Emesal gašan (“lady”) in there, you really can’t get much more feminine than that (The Free Library… p.  89). On top of that, about a half of the composition is a fairly standard Dumuzi romance routine (The Free Library… p. 90-91; more on what that entails later, for now it will suffice to say that not gender nonconformity). 

This is a recurring pattern, arguably - Agušaya, where masculine traits are attributed to Inanna over and over again, still firmly refers to her as a feminine figure (“daughter”, “goddess”, “queen”, “princess”, “mistress”, “lioness” and so on; Benjamin R. Foster, Before the Muses: an Anthology of Akkadian Literature, p. 160 and passim). In other words, the assignment of a clearly masculine sphere of activity and titles related to it doesn’t really mean Inanna is not presented as feminine in the same compositions.

How to explain this phenomenon? In Mesopotamian thought both femininity and masculinity were understood as me, ie. divinely ordained principles regulating the functioning of the cosmos. In modern terms, these labels as they were used in literary texts arguably had more to do with gender and gender roles than strictly speaking with biological sex (Ištar, Goddess of War…, p. 391-392). Ilona Zsolnay on this basis concludes that Inanna, while demonstrably regarded as a feminine figure, took on a masculine role in military context (Ištar, Goddess of War…, p. 401). This is hardly an uncommon view in scholarship (The Free Library…, p. 93; On Language…, p. 243). 

In other words, it can be argued that when the lyrical voice in Agušaya declares that “there is a certain hero, she is unique” (i-ba-aš-ši iš-ta-ta qú-ra-du; Before the Muses…, p. 98) the unique quality is, essentially, that Inanna fulfills a strongly masculine coded role - that of a “hero”, understood as a youthful, aggressive masculine figure - despite being female.

It should be noted that the ideal image of a person characterized by youthful masculinity went beyond just warfare, or abstract heroic adventures, though. The Song of the Hoe indicates that willingness to perform manual work in the fields was yet another aspect of it (Ilona Zsolnay, Gender and Sexuality: Ancient Near East, p. 277). This, as far as I know, was never attributed to Inanna.

Furthermore, the sort of youthful, aggressive masculinity we’re talking about here was regarded as something fleeting and temporary for the most part (at least when it came to humans; deities are obviously a very different story), and a very different image of male gender roles emerges from texts such as Instruction of Shuruppak, which extol a peaceful, reserved demeanor and the ability to provide for one’s family as masculine virtues instead (Gender and Sexuality…, p. 277-278). It might be worth pointing out that Sumerian outright uses two different terms to designate “youthful” (namguruš) and “senior” (namabba) masculinity (Gender and Sexuality…, p. 275); the general term for masculinity, namnitah, is incredibly rare in comparison  (Gender and Sexuality…, p. 276-277).

It needs to be pointed out that a further Sumerian term sometimes translated as “manliness” -  šul, which occurs for example in the hymn mentioned above - might actually be gender neutral; in addition to being used to describe mortal young men and Inanna, it was also applied as an epithet to the goddess Bau, who demonstrably was not regarded as a masculine figure; she didn’t even share Inanna’s warlike character (Analyzing Constructs…, p. 471). Perhaps the original nuance simply escapes us - could it be that šul was not strictly speaking masculinity, but some more abstract quality which was simply more commonly associated with men?

In any case, it’s hard to argue that Inanna really encompasses the entire concept of masculinity as the Mesopotamians understood it. At the same time, it is impossible to deny that she was portrayed as responsible for - and enthusiastically engaged in - spheres of activity which were seen as firmly masculine, and could accordingly be described with terms associated with them. Therefore, it would be more than suitable to describe her as gender nonconforming - at least when she was specifically portrayed as warlike. 

Perhaps Dennis Pardee was onto something when he completely sincerely described Anat, who despite being firmly a female figure similarly engaged in masculine pursuits (not only war, but also hunting) as a “tomboy goddess” (Ritual and Cult at Ugarit, p. 274). 

These observations only remain firmly correct as long as we assume that gender roles are a concept fully applicable to deities, of course - I’ll explore in more detail later whether this was necessarily true.

Royal curses and legal loopholes

A different side of Inanna as a war deity which nonetheless still has a lot to do with the topic of this article comes to the fore in curse formulas from royal inscriptions. Their contents are not quite as straightforward as imploring her to personally intervene on the battlefield. Rather, she was supposed to make the enemy unable to partake in warfare properly (Ištar, Goddess of War…, p. 390). Investigating how this process was imagined will shed additional light on how the Mesopotamians viewed masculinity, and especially the intersection between masculinity and military affairs.

The formulas under discussion start to appear in the second half of the second millennium BCE, with the earliest example identified in an inscription of the Middle Assyrian king Tukultī-Ninurta I (Gina Konstantopoulos, My Men Have Become Women, and My Women Men: Gender, Identity, and Cursing in Mesopotamia, p. 363).  He implored the goddess to punish his enemies by turning them into women (zikrūssu sinnisāniš) - or rather, by turning their masculinity into femininity, or at the very least some sort of non-masculine quality. The first option was the conventional translation for a while, but sinništu would be used instead of the much more uncommon sinnišānu if it was that straightforward. Interpreting it as “femininity” would parallel the use of zikrūti, “masculinity”, in place of zikaru, “man”. 

There are two further possible alternatives, which I find less plausible myself, but which nonetheless need to be discussed. One is that sinnišānu designated a specific class of women. Furthermore, there is also some evidence - lexical list entry from ḪAR.GUD, to be specific -  that sinnisānu might have been a synonym of assinnu, a type of undeniably AMAB, but possibly gender nonconforming, cultic performer (in older literature erroneously translated as “eunuch” despite lack of evidence; the second most beloved vintage baseless translation for any cultic terms after “sacred prostitute”, an invention of Herodotus), in which case the curse would involve something like “changing his masculinity in the manner of a sinnisānu” (Ištar, Goddess of War…, p. 394-396). However, Zsolnay herself subsequently published a detailed study of the assinnu, The Misconstrued Role of the assinnu in Ancient Near Eastern Prophecy, which casts her earlier proposal into doubt, as the perception of the assinnu as a figure lacking conventional masculinity might be erroneous. I’ll return to this point later. For now, it will suffice to say that on grammatical grounds and due to parallels in other similar maledictions, “masculinity into femininity” seems to be the most straightforward to me in this case.

The “genderbending” tends to be mentioned alongside the destruction of one’s weapons (My Men Have…, p. 363). This is not accidental - martial prowess, “heroism” and even the ability to bear weapons were quintessential masculine qualities; a man deprived of his masculinity would inevitably be unable to possess them. The masculine coding of weaponry was so strong that an erection could be metaphorically compared to drawing a bow (Ištar, Goddess of War…, p. 395).

Zsolnay points out the reversal of gender in curses is also coupled with other reversals: Inanna is also supposed to “establish” (liškun) the defeat (abikti) of the target of the curses - a future king who fails to uphold his duties - which constitutes a reversal of an idiom common in royal inscriptions celebrating victory (abikti iškun). The potential monarch will also be unable to face the enemy as a result of her intervention - yet again a reversal of a mainstay of royal declarations. The majesty and heroism of a king were supposed to scare enemies, who would inevitably prostrate themselves when faced by him on the battlefield (Ištar, Goddess of War…, p. 396-397). 

It is safe to say the goal of invoking Inanna in the discussed formulas was to render the target powerless. (Ištar, Goddess of War…, p. 396; My Men Have…, p. 366). Furthermore, they evoke a fear widespread in cuneiform sources, that of the loss of potency, which sometimes took forms akin to Koro syndrome or the infamous penis theft passages from Malleus Maleficarum (My Men Have…, p. 367). It is worth noting that male impotence could specifically be described as being “like a woman” (kīma sinništi/GIM SAL; Ištar, Goddess of War…, p. 395).

Gina Konstantopoulos argues that references to Inanna “genderbening” others occur in a different context in a variety of literary texts, for example in the Epic of Erra, where they’re only meant to highlight the extent of her supernatural ability. She also suggests that more general references to swapping left and right sides around, for example in Enki and the World Order, are further examples, as they “echo(...) the language of birth incantations” which ritually assigned the gender role to a child (My Men Have…, p. 368). She also sees the passage from the Epic of Gilgamesh describing the fates of various individuals who crossed her path and ended up transformed into animals as a result as a more distant parallel of the curse formulas (My Men Have…, p. 369). However, it needs to be pointed out this sort of shapeshifting is almost unparalleled in Mesopotamian literature (Frans Wiggermann, Hybrid creatures A. Philological. In Mesopotamia, p. 237), and none of the few examples involve a change of gender. The fact that the "genderbending" passages generally reflect a fear of loss of agency (especially on the battlefield) or potency, and by extension of independence tied to masculine gender roles, explains why they virtually never describe the opposite scenario, a mortal woman being placed in a masculine role through supernatural means as punishment (My Men Have…, p. 370). It might be worth pointing out that a long sequence of seemingly contradictory duties involving reversals is also ascribed to Inanna in a particularly complex Old Babylonian hymn (Michael P. Streck, Nathan Wasserman, The Man is Like a Woman, the Maiden is a Young Man. A new edition of Ištar-Louvre (Tab. I-II), p. 2-3). It also contains a rare case of bestowing masculine qualities upon women: “the man is like a woman, the maiden is like a young man” (zikrum sinništeš ardatu eṭel; The Man is Like…, p. 5). However, the context is not identical to the “genderbening” curses. The text is agreed to describe a performance during a specific festival. Other passages explicitly refer to crossdressing and rituals themed around reversal (šubalkutma šipru, "behavior is turned upside down"; The Man is Like…, p. 6). Furthermore, grammatical forms of verbs do not indicate a full reversal of gender (The Man is Like…, p. 31). Overall, I agree with Timothy D. Leonard’s cautious remark that in this context only religiously motivated temporary reversal of gender roles occurs, and we cannot use the passage to make far reaching conclusions about the participants’ identity (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 298).

It’s important to bear in mind that a performance involving crossdressing won’t necessarily involve people who are otherwise gender nonconforming, and it doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with the sexuality of the performer. While I typically avoid bringing up parallels from other cultures and time periods as evidence, I feel like this is illustrated quite well by the case of shirabyōshi, a type of female performer popular in Japan roughly from the second half of the Heian period to the late Kamakura period.

A 20th century depiction of a shirabyōshi (wikimedia commons)

They performed essentially in male formal wear, and with swords at their waists; their performance was outright called a “male dance” (Roberta Strippoli, Dancer, Nun, Ghost, Goddess. The Legend of Giō and Hotoke in Japanese Literature, Theater, Visual Arts, and Cultural Heritage, p. 28). Genpei jōsuiki nonetheless states that famous shirabyōshi were essentially the Japanese answer to the most famous historical Chinese beauties like Wang Zhaojun or Yang Guifei (Dancer, Nun…, p. 27-28). In other words, while the shirabyōshi crossdressed, they were simultaneously held to be paragons of femininity.

Putting crossdressing aside, it’s worth noting women taking masculine roles are additionally attested in legal context in ancient Mesopotamia, though only in an incredibly specific scenario. A man who lacked male heirs could essentially legally declare his daughter a son, so that she would be able to have the privileges as a man would with regards to inheritance. For example, in a text from Emar a certain mr. Aḫu-ṭāb formally made his daughter Alnašuwa his heir due to having no other descendants, and explained that as a result she will have to be “both male and female” (NITA ù MUNUS) - effectively both a son and a daughter - to keep the process legitimate. Once Alnašuwa got married, her newfound status as a son of her father was legally transferred to her husband, though. Evidently no supernatural powers were involved at any stage, only an uncommon, but fully legitimate, legal procedure (My Men Have…, p. 370-372). It should be noted that when male by proxy, Alnašuwa was explicitly not expected to perform any military roles - her father only placed such an exception on potential grandsons (My Men Have…, p. 370). Therefore, the temporary masculine role she was granted was arguably not the same as the sort of masculinity curses were supposed to take away, or the sort Inanna could claim for herself to a degree.

Luminous beards and genderfluid planets: the astral Inanna (and her peers)

A standard Mesopotamian depiction of the planet Venus (Dilbat) on a late Kassite boundary stone (wikimedia commons)

Male in the morning, female in the evening (or the other way round)?

While the inquiry into Inanna’s military aspect revealed a fair amount of evidence for gender nonconformity, it would be disingenuous on my part to end the article on just that. A slightly different phenomenon is documented with regards to her astral side - or perhaps with regards to the astral side of multiple deities, to be more precise.

To begin with, in Mesopotamian astrology Venus (Dilbat) was one of the two astral bodies which were described as possessing two genders, the other being Mercury (Erica Reiner, Astral Magic in Babylonia, p. 6; interestingly, it doesn’t seem any deity associated with Mercury acquired this characteristic unless you want to count a possible late case from outside Mesopotamia). The primary sources indicate that this reflected the fact Venus is both the morning star and the evening star, though there was no agreement between ancient astronomers which one of them was feminine and which masculine (Ulla Koch-Westenholz, Mesopotamian Astrology. An Introduction to Babylonian and Assyrian Celestial Divination, p. 40). We even have a case of a single astrologer, a certain Nabû-ahhe-eriba, alternating between both options in his personal letters (p. 126). It needs to be pointed out that while some interest in stars and planets might already be attested in Early Dynastic sources, its scope was evidently quite limited and astrology didn’t develop yet (Mesopotamian Astrology…, p. 32). No astrological texts predate the Old Babylonian period, and most of the early ones are preoccupied with the moon (p. 36-37), though the earliest evidence for astrological interest in Venus are roughly contemporary with them (p. 40). Astronomical observations of this planet were certainly already conducted for divinatory purposes during the reign of Ammisaduqa, and by the seventh century BCE experts were well familiar with its cycle and made predictions on this basis (p. 126).

Inanna’s association with Venus predates the dawn of astrology by well over a millennium. It likely goes back all the way up to the Uruk period - if not earlier, but that sort of speculation is moot because you can’t talk about Mesopotamian theology with no textual sources, and these are fundamentally not something available before the advent of writing. The earliest evidence are archaic administrative texts which separately record offerings for Inanna hud, “Inanna the morning” and Inanna sig, “Inanna the evening” (Inanna and Ishtar…, p. 334-335). However, it is impossible to tell if this was already reflected in any sort of ambiguity or fluidity of gender. It also needs to be noted the archaic text records two more epithets, Inanna NUN, possibly “princely Inanna” (p. 334; this is actually the single oldest one) and Inanna KUR, possibly a forerunner of later title ninkurkurra, “lady of the lands” (p. 335). Therefore, Inanna was arguably already more than just a deity associated with Venus.

It’s up for debate to which degree an astral body was seen as identical with the corresponding deity in later periods (Spencer J. Allen, The Splintered Divine. A Study of Ištar, Baal, and Yahweh Divine Names and Divine Multiplicity in the Ancient Near East, p. 41-42). There is evidence that Inanna and the planet Venus could be viewed as separate, similarly to how the moon observed in the sky could be treated as distinct from the moon god Sin (p. 40). The most commonly cited piece of evidence is that astrological texts fairly consistently employ the name Dilbat to refer to the planet instead of Inanna’s name or one of the logograms used to represent it, like the numeral 15 (p. 42).

Regardless of these concerns, one specific tidbit pertaining to astrological comments on Venus is held as particularly important for possible ambiguity or fluidity of Inanna’s gender, and even lead to arguments that masculine depictions might be out there: the planet can be described as bearded (Astral Magic…, p. 6). Omens attesting this are most notably listed in the compendium Iqqur īpuš (Erica Reiner, David Pingree, Babylonian Planetary Omens vol. 3, p. 10-11). it should be noted that the planet is referred to only as Dilbat in this context (see ex. Babylonian Planetary…, p. 105 for an example). I’m only aware of two texts where this feature is transferred to the corresponding deity: the syncretic hymn to Nanaya and Ashurbanipal’s hymn to Ishtar of Nineveh. Is the beard really a beard, though? Not necessarily, as it turns out.

The passage from the hymn of Ashurbanipal has been recently discussed by Takayoshi M. Oshima and Alison Acker Gruseke (She Walks in Beauty: an Iconographic Study of the Goddess in a Nimbus, p. 62-63). They point out that ultimately there are no certain iconographic representations of bearded Ishtar. There are a few proposed ones on cylinder seals but this is a minority position relying on doubtful exegesis of every strand of hair in sight; no example has anything resembling the “classic” Mesopotamian beard. I’ll return to this problem in a bit.

In any case, the authors of the aforementioned paper argue the key to interpreting the passage is the fact that the reference to the beard (or rather beards in the plural) occurs in an enumeration of strictly astral, luminous characteristics, like being “clothed in brilliance” (namrīrī ḫalāpu). Furthermore, they identify a parallel in the Great Hymn to Shamash: the rays of the sun are described as “beards” (ziqnāt), and occur in parallel with “splendor” (šalummatu) and “lights” (namrīrū). Therefore, they assume the “beard” might be a metaphorical term for a ray of light, rather than facial hair. This would match actually attested depictions - in the first millennium BCE, especially in Assyria, images of a goddess surrounded by rays of light or a large halo of sorts are very common.

A goddess surrounded by a halo on a Neo-Assyrian seal (wikimedia commons)

Perhaps most importantly, this interpretation is also confirmed by the astronomical texts which kickstarted the discussion. The phrase ziqna zaqānu, “to have a beard”, is explained multiple times as reflection of an unusual luminosity when applied to Venus. The authors additionally argue that it is possible the use of the term “beard” was originally tied to the triangular portions of the emblems of Inanna and her twin (which indeed represent the luminosity of Venus and the sun) to explain why a plurality of “beards” is relatively common in the discussed descriptions (p. 64).

As I said before, the second example is a hymn to Nanaya. It’s easily one of my favorite works of Mesopotamian literature, and a few years ago it kickstarted my interest in its “protagonist”, but tragically most of it is completely irrelevant to this article. The gist of it is fairly simple: the entire composition is written in first person, and in each strophe Nanaya claims the prerogatives of another deity before reasserting herself: “still I am Nanaya” (Goddesses in Context…, p. 116-117). The “borrowed” attributes vary from abstract cosmic powers to breast size. The deities they are linked with range from the most major members of the pantheon (Inanna, Gula, Ishara, Bau…) through spouses of major deities (Shala, Damkina…) to obscure oddities (Manzat, the personified rainbow); there’s even one who’s otherwise entirely unknown, Šuluḫḫītum (for a full table see Erica Reiner’s A Sumero-Akkadian Hymn of Nanâ, p. 232).

As expected, the strophe relevant to the current topic is the one focused on Inanna, in which Nanaya proudly exclaims “I have a beard (ziqna zaqānu) in Babylon”, in between claiming to have “heavy breasts in Daduni” (Reiner notes this is not actually an attested attribute of Inanna, and suggests the line might be a pun on the name of the city mentioned in it, Daduni, and the word dādu) and appropriating Inanna’s family tree for herself (A Sumero-Akkadian…, p. 233).

A possible late depiction of Nanaya (wikimedia commons)

It needs to be stressed that Nanaya’s gender shows no signs of ambiguity anywhere; quite the opposite, she was the “quintessence of womanhood“ (Olga Drewnowska-Rymarz, Mesopotamian Goddess Nanāja, p. 156). I would argue the most notable case of something along the lines of gender nonconformity in a source focused on her occurs in the sole known example of a love poem starring her and her sparsely attested Old Babylonian spouse Muati. 

Muati is asked to intercede with Nanaya on behalf of a petitioner (Before the Muses…, p. 160), which usually was the role performed of the wife of a major male deity (or by Ninshubur in Inanna’s case; Goddesses in Context…, p. 273). Sadly, despite recently surveying most publications mentioning Muati I haven’t found any substantial discussion of this unique passage, and I’m not aware of any parallels involving other couples where the wife was a more important deity than the husband (like Ninisina and Pabilsag).

A further issue for the beard passage is that Nanaya had no connection to Venus to speak of -  she could be described as luminous, but she was only compared to the sun, the moon, and unspecified stars (Mesopotamian Goddess Nanāja, p. 153-155).

Given that the hymn most likely dates to the early first millennium BCE (Goddesses in Context…, p. 116), yet another problem for the older interpretation is that the city of Babylon at this point in time is probably the single worst place for seeking any sort of gender ambiguity when it comes to Inanna.

After the end of the Kassite period, Babylon became the epicenter of Marduk-centric theological ventures which famously culminated in the composition of Enuma Elish. What is less well known is that as a part of the same process, attempts were made to essentially fuse Bēlet-Bābili (“lady of Babylon”) - the main (but not only) local form of Inanna, regarded as distinct from Inanna of Uruk (the “default” Inanna) - with Zarpanitu (The Pantheon…, p. 75-76). Zarpanitu was effectively the definition of an indistinct spouse of another deity - there’s not much to say about her character other than that she was Marduk’s wife (Goddesses in Context…, p. 92-93). Accordingly, it is hard to imagine that the contemporary “lady of Babylon” would be portrayed as bearded.

During the reign of Nabu-shuma-ishkun in the eighth century BCE an attempt to extend the new dogma to Inanna of Uruk was made, though this was evidently considered too much for contemporary audiences. Multiple sources display varying degrees of opposition to replacement of Inanna in the Eanna by a goddess who didn’t belong there, presumably either Zarpanitu or at the very least Bēlet-Bābili after “Zarpanituification” so severe she no longer bore a sufficient resemblance to her Urukuean colleague (The Pantheon…, p. 76-77). Inanna of Uruk was restored during the reign of Nebuchadnezzar II, who curiously affirmed that her temple was temporarily turned into the sanctuary of an “inappropriate goddess” (The Pantheon…, p. 131). However, the Marduk-centric ventures left a lasting negative impression in Uruk nonetheless, and in the long run lead to quite extreme reactions, culminating in the establishment of an active cult of Anu for the first time, but that’s another story (I might consider covering it in detail if there’s interest).

To go back to the hymn to Nanaya one last time, it’s interesting to note that a single copy seems to substitute ziqna zaqānu for zik-ra-[...], possibly a leftover of zikrāku, “manly”. Takayoshi M. Oshima and Alison Acker Gruseke presume this is only a scribal mistake, since this heavily damaged exemplar is rife with typos in general (She Walks…, p. 63), though I’m curious if perhaps a reference to the military character of Inanna herself or Annunitum was meant. This would line up with evidence from Babylon to a certain degree, since through the first millennium BCE Annunitum was worshiped there in her own temple (Goddesses in Context…, p. 105-106). However, in the light of what is known about this unique variant, it’s best to assume that it is indeed a typo and the hymn simply refers to luminosity. 

While no textual sources earlier (or later, for that matter) than the two hymns discussed above attribute a beard to Inanna (Zainab Bahrani, Women of Babylon. Gender and Representation in Mesopotamia, p. 182), the most commonly cited example of a seal with a supposedly bearded depiction is considerably earlier (Ur III, so roughly 2100 BCE, long before any references to “bearded Venus”). It comes from the Umma area judging from the name and title of its owner, a certain Lu-Igalima, a lumaḫ priest of Ninibgal (“lady of the [temple] Ibgal”, ie. Inanna’s temple in Umma). However, Julia M. Asher-Greve  points out that the beard is likely to be a strand of hair, since contemporary parallels supporting this interpretation are available, for example a seal of a priest of Inanna from Nippur, Lugalengardu. Furthermore, she notes that the seal cutter was seemingly inexperienced, since the detail is all around dodgy, for example Inanna’s foot seems to be merged with the head of the lion she stands on (Goddesses in Context…, p. 208). Looking at the two images side by side, I think this is a compelling argument, since the beard doesn’t really look like, well, a typical Mesopotamian beard, while the hairdo on the Nippur seal is indeed similar:

Both images are screencaps from Goddesses in Context, p. 403; reproduced here for educational purposes only.

While I think the beard-critical arguments are sound, this is not the only possible kind of depiction of Inanna argued to reflect the fluidity of gender attributed to the planet Venus.

Paul-Alain Beaulieu notes that an inscription of Nebuchadnezzar with a dedication to Inanna of Uruk she might be called both the lamassu, ie. “protective goddess”, of Uruk and šēdu, ie. “protective genius”, of Eanna; the latter is an invariably masculine term. However, it is not entirely clear if the lamassu and šēdu invoked here are both really a partially masculine Ishtar, since there’s a degree of ambiguity involved in the concept of protective deity or deities of a temple - while there’s evidence for outright identification with the main deity of a given house of worship, they could also be separate, though closely related, and Beaulieu ultimately remains uncertain which option is more plausible here (The Pantheon…, p. 137-138). He also points out that there’s some late evidence for apotropaic figures with two faces, male and female, which were supposed to represent a šēdu+lamassu pair, but rules out the possibility that these have anything to do with Ishtar, since two faces are virtually never her attribute (The Pantheon…, p. 137).  There is a single possible exception from this rule, but it’s an outlier so puzzling it’s hard to count it. A single Neo-Assyrian text from Nineveh (KAR 307) describes Ishtar of Nineveh (there is a reason why I abstain from using the name Inanna here, as you’ll see later) as four-eyed, which Beaulieu suggests might mean the deity had a male face and a female face. The same source also states that Ishtar of Nineveh is Tiamat and has “upper parts of Bel” and “lower parts of Ninlil”, though (The Pantheon…, p. 137), so it’s probably best not to think of it too much - Tiamat is demonstrably not a figure of much importance in general, let alone in the context of Inanna-centric considerations.

The same text has been interpreted differently by Wilfred G. Lambert. He concludes that it’s ultimately probably an esoteric Enuma Elish commentary and that it might have been cobbled together by a scribe from snippers of unrelated, contradictory sources (Babylonian Creation Myths, p. 245). If correct, this would disprove Beaulieu’s proposal, since the four eyes would simply reflect the description of Marduk (Bel) in EE (tablet I, line 55: “Four were his eyes, four his ears”). I lean towards Lambert’s interpretation myself; the reference to Tiamat is the strongest argument, outside EE and derived commentaries she was basically a non-entity. I’ll go back to the topic of Ishtar of Nineveh later, though - there is a slim possibility that two faces might really be meant, though this would take us further away from Inanna, all the way up to ancient Anatolia.

As a final curiosity it’s worth pointing out that while this is entirely unrelated to the discussed matter, KAR 307 is also the same text which (in)famously states Tiamat has the form of a dromedary. As odd as that sounds, it’s much easier to explain when you realize that the Akkadian term for this animal, when broken down to individual logograms, could be interpreted as “donkey of the sea” - and Tiamat’s name was derived from the ordinary Akkadian word “sea” (Babylonian Creation…, p. 246).

The Red Lady of Heaven, my king

While both the bearded and two faced Inannas are likely to be mirages, this doesn’t mean the dual gender of Venus was not reflected in the world of gods. The result was a bit more complex than the existence of a male Inanna, though.

In addition to being Inanna’s astral attribute, Venus simultaneously could be personified under the name Ninsianna. Ninsianna could be treated as a title of Inanna - this is attested for example in a hymn from the reign of Iddin-Dagan of Isin  - but unless explicitly stated, should be treated as a separate deity. This is evident especially in sources from Larsa, where the two were worshiped entirely separately from each other (Goddesses in Context…, p. 92).

Ninsianna’s name can be literally translated as “red lady of heaven” (Goddesses in Context…, p. 86), though as I already explained earlier, nin is actually gender neutral - “red lord of heaven” is theoretically equally valid. And, as a matter of fact, it is necessary to employ the latter translation in some cases - an inscription of Rim-Sin I refers to Ninsianna with the firmly masculine title lugal, “king” (Wolfgang Heimpel, Ninsiana, p. 488). 

It seems safe to say that in Ninsianna’s case we’re essentially dealing with a deity who truly was like Venus. Timothy D. Leonard stresses that while frequently employed in past scholarship, the labels “hermaphroditic” and “androgynous” do not describe the phenomenon accurately. What the sources actually present is a deity who switches between a male form and a female one (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 226). In other words, if we are to apply a contemporary label, it seems optimal to say Ninsianna was perceived as genderfluid.

Interestingly, though, it seems that Ninsianna’s gender varied by location as well (Goddesses in Context…, p. 92). The worship of feminine Ninsianna is attested for example in Nippur (Goddesses in Context…, p. 101) and Uruk (Goddesses in Context…, p. 126), masculine - in Sippar-Amnanum, Girsu and Ur (Ninsiana, p. 488-489). No study I went through speculated what the reasons behind this situation might have been. Was Ninsianna’s gender locally viewed as less flexible than the discussed theological texts indicate? Were specific sanctuaries dedicated only to a specific aspect of this deity - only the “morning” Ninsianna or “evening” Ninsianna? For the time being these questions must remain unanswered in most cases. 

There’s a single case where the preference for feminine Ninsianna was probably influenced by an unparalleled haphazard theological innovation, though - in Isin in the early second millennium BCE the local dynasty lost control over Uruk, and as a result access to royal legitimacy granted symbolically by Inanna. To remedy that, the tutelary goddess of their capital was furnished with similar qualifications through a leap of logic relying on one hand on the close association between Inanna and Ninsianna, and on the other on the phonetic (but not etymological) similarity between the names of Ninisina and Ninsianna (Goddesses in Context…, p. 86). As far as I know, this did not influence the perception of Ninisina’s gender in any shape or form, though.

An interesting extension of the phenomenon of Ninsianna’s gender is this deity’s association with an even more enigmatic figure, Kabta. Only two things can be established about Kabta with certainty: that they were an astral deity, and that they were associated in some way with Ninsianna; even their gender is uncertain (Wilfred G. Lambert, Kabta, p. 284).

It might be worth pointing out that as a result Kabta and Ninsianna seem to constitute the first case of a Mesopotamian deity of variable (Ninsianna) or uncertain (Kabta) gender being referred to with a neutral pronoun in an Assyriological publication - Ryan D. Winters’ commentary on their entries in a variety of god lists employs a singular they (An = Anum…, p. 34):

Wilfred G. Lambert argued that the two were spouses (Kabta, p. 284). More recently the same point has been made by Winters based on Kabta’s placement after Ninsianna in An = Anum, and directly before Dumuzi in an Old Babylonian forerunner of this list (An = Anum…, p. 22). However, I feel obliged to point out that An = Anum, which fairly consistently identifies spouses as such, does not actually specify the nature of the connection between the two. Once the enumeration of Ninsianna’s names finishes, the list simply switches to Kabta’s (An = Anum…, p. 170). 

In another god list, which is rather uncreatively referred to as “shorter An = Anum” due to sharing the first line with its more famous “relative” but lacking its sheer scope, names of Kabta are listed among designations for Inanna’s astral forms, which would have interesting implications for the nature of the supposed relationship between them and Ninsianna (An = Anum…, p. 34). Furthermore, as noted by Jeremiah Peterson, both of them, as well as Kabta’s alternate name Maḫdianna and a further astral deity, Timua, are also glossed as Ištar kakkabi - in this case according to him likely a generic moniker “goddess of the star” as opposed to “Ishtar of the star” - in a variety of lexical lists (God Lists from Old Babylonian Nippur, p. 58). 

In the light of the somewhat confusing evidence summarized above, further inquiries into both Kabta’s character and the nature of the connection between them and Ninsianna are definitely necessary. Assuming that they were spouses, how did theologians who adhered to this view deal with them also being treated as two manifestations of one being instead (I suppose you could easily put a romantic spin on that, to be fair)? Did Kabta’s gender change alongside Ninsianna’s, or perhaps following a different scheme, or was this a characteristic they lacked? Unless new sources emerge, this sadly must remain the domain of speculation.

Ninsianna’s fluid gender also has to be taken into account while discussing one further deity, Pinikir. The discovery of a fragmentary god list in Emar made it possible to establish the latter was regarded as the Hurrian equivalent of the former (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 224; note that there seems to be a typo here, the list is identified as An = Anum but it’s actually the Weidner god list). This deity similarly was understood as a personification of Venus (Piotr Taracha, Religions of Second Millennium Anatolia, p. 99) and was in a certain capacity associated with Inanna - however, as it will become evident pretty quickly these weren’t the only analogies with Ninsianna.

Despite appearing in Emar in Hurrian context, Pinikir actually originated to the east of Mesopotamia, in Elam (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 223). Her name cannot yet be fully explained due to imperfect understanding of Elamite, but it is clear that the suffix -kir is feminine and means “goddess” (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 237; cf. the not particularly creatively named Kiririsha, “great goddess”). Sources from Anatolia recognize Pinikir as an Elamite deity, though direct transfer from one end of the “cuneiform world” to the other is unlikely (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 236). Most likely, Hurrians received Pinikir through Mesopotamian intermediaries in the late third or early second millennium BCE, and later introduced this deity further west (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 237). We know Mesopotamians were aware of her thanks to the god list Anšar = Anum, where the name occurs among what may or may not be an enumeration of deities regarded as Inanna’s foreign counterparts (An = Anum…, p. 36). For the time being it is not possible to track this process directly, though - it’s all educated guesswork.

While as far as I am aware none of the few Elamite sources dealing with Pinikir provide much theological information about her, and none hint at her gender being anything but feminine, Hurro-Hittite texts from Anatolia indicate that at least in this context, like Ninsianna in Mesopotamia, she came to be seen as a genderfluid deity, sometimes counted among gods, sometimes among goddesses (Gary Beckman, The Goddess Pirinkir and her Ritual from Ḫattuša (CTH 644), p. 25). Firmly feminine Pinikir occurs in a ritual text (KUB 34.102) which refers to her in Hurrian as Allai-Pinikir, “lady Pinikir”; interestingly this is the only case where she is provided with an epithet in any Anatolian source (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 211). However, there are examples of ritual texts where Pinikir is listed among male deities (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 229). He is also depicted in the procession of gods in the famous Yazilikaya sanctuary in a rather striking attire:

I know, I know, the state of preservation leaves much to be desired (wikimedia commons) This isn’t just any masculine clothing - the outfit is only shared with two other figures depicted in this sanctuary, the sun god Shimige and the Hittite king (The Goddess Pirinkir…, p. 25-26):

Shimige (left; wikimedia commons) and the king (right; also wikimedia commons)

Piotr Taracha argues that it reflects the attire worn by the Hittite king when he fulfilled his religious duties (Religions of…, p. 89); Pinikir’s isn’t identical - it’s only knee length, like the more standard masculine garments - but the skullcap is pretty clearly the same. He is also winged, which is a trait only shared with the moon god and one more figure (more on them in a bit), and likely reflects celestial associations (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 211). All the same traits are also preserved on a small figurine of Pinikir from the collection of the MET:

A much better preserved masculine Pinikir (MET)

It’s therefore probably safe to say that the male form had a fairly consistent iconography, which furthermore was patterned on what probably was an archetypal image of masculinity to Hurro-Hittite audiences. The king, whose appearance is reflected in Pinikir’s iconography, was, after all, supposed to be not just any man, but rather the foremost example of idealized masculinity (Mary R. Bachvarova, Wisdom of Former Days: The Manly Hittite King and Foolish Kumarbi, Father of the Gods, p. 83-84).

Since we started this section with beards, we may as well end with them - I feel obliged to point out that no matter how clearly described as masculine, neither Ninsianna nor Pinikir were ever described (let alone depicted) as bearded. 

It is difficult for me to estimate to which degree the information about the genderfluidity of Ninsianna and Pinikir can be used to elucidate in which way the association with Venus influenced the perception of Inanna’s gender. However, it seems safe to say the focus on secondary physical characteristics made some authors miss the forest for the trees. I’ll leave it as an open question whether Inanna could be interpreted similarly to her even more Venusian peers, but I’m fairly sure that a metaphorical beard is unlikely to have anything to do with the answer.

Excursus: “the masculinity and femininity of Shaushka”, or when an Ishtar is not Ishtar

Bringing up the masculine Pinikir, and the matter of possible genderfluidity of deities in Mesopotamia and nearby areas, makes it necessary to also discuss Shaushka. The two of them appear mere two lines apart in Anšar = Anum  (An = Anum…, p. 36), though they were not closely associated with each other - rather, they were both deities associated with Inanna who happened to belong to the same cultural milieu.

Mx. Worldwide: the transmission of Shaushka across the cuneiform world

Shaushka was originally the tutelary deity of Nineveh, but the attestations span almost the entire “cuneiform world” - from Nineveh in the north to Lagash in the south, from Hattusa in the west, through Ugarit and various inland Syrian cities all the way up to Arrapha in the east. There are simply too many of them to cover everything here.

The oldest known reference to Shaushka (which doubles as the first reference to the city of Nineveh) occurs in a text from the Ur III period. It’s not very thrilling - it’s only an administrative text mentioning the offering of a sheep made on behalf of the king of the Ur III state (Gary Beckman, Ištar of Nineveh Reconsidered, p. 1). The earliest sources render the name as Shausha; the infix -k- which only starts to appear consistently later on is presumed to be an honorific, or less plausibly a diminutive (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 55-56). Either way, it is agreed it can be translated simply as “the great one” (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 56) - a pretty apt description of its bearer.

Ur III attestations of Shaushka are sparse otherwise: a textile offering in Umma (possibly a garment for a statue), a handful of theophoric names like Ur-Shausha and Geme-Shausha in Lagash, and that’s basically it (Tonia Sharlach, Foreign Influences on the Religion of the Ur III Court, p. 106). Still, it’s probably safe to say it’s one of the examples of a broader pattern of interest in Hurrian religion evident in the courtly documents from this period, and in the appointment of a number of Hurrian diviners to relatively prestigious positions. Whether such experts might have influenced the introduction of Shaushka and other Hurrian deities who entered lower Mesopotamia roughly at the same time (for example Allani from Zimudar or Shuwala from Mardaman) remains an open question (Foreign Influences…, p. 111-114).

A degree of equivalence between Shaushka and Inanna was already recognized in the early second millennium BCE, as evidenced by a tablet from the northern site of Shusharra dated to the reign of Shamshi-Adad which records an offering made to “Ishtar of Nineveh” (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 58). However, it might have happened as early as half a millennium earlier, during the Sargonic period - Gary Beckman suggests the identification between the two might have initially occurred simply due to the importance assigned to Inanna by rulers of the Akkadian Empire (Ištar of Nineveh…, p. 2). 

Furthermore, a number of later Mesopotamian lexical lists label Shaushka as “Ishtar of Subartu” - a common designation for the core Hurrian areas (Ištar of Nineveh…, p. 2). Meanwhile, Hurrians and cultures influenced by them used the name Ishtar as a logogram to represent Shaushka (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 46). Furthermore, they placed Shaushka in Uruk in an adaptation of the Epic of Gilgamesh (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 125). One is forced to wonder if perhaps from the Hurrian interpreter’s perspective Inanna was some sort of foreign Shaushka ersatz, not the other way around.

Despite Shaushka’s origin in the Hurrien milieu of northernmost part of Mesopotamia, the bulk of attestations actually come from Hittite Anatolia (Ištar of Nineveh…, p. 2). Kizzuwatna, a kingdom in southeastern Anatolia, was the middleman in this transmission (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 95). The earliest evidence for Hittite reception of Shaushka is an oracle text from either the late fifteenth or early fourteenth century BCE (Ištar in Ḫatti, p. 84). However, save for the capital, Hattusa, no major cities were ever identified as cult centers of this deity, and they were seemingly worshiped largely within the southern and eastern periphery of the Hittite empire (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 94). Most of the ritual texts Shaushka appears in accordingly appear to have Kizzuwatnean, or at least broadly Hurrian, background (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 87).

Is non-astral genderfluidity possible, or what’s up with Shaushka’s gender?

Probably the most fascinating aspect of Shaushka’s character is the apparent coexistence of a female and a male form of this deity. The best known example of this phenomenon are the Yazilikaya reliefs, where a masculine form, with unique attributes including a robe leaving one leg exposed and wings, marches with the gods (with the handmaidens Ninatta and Kulitta - more on them later - in tow) while a caption accompanying a damaged relief indicates a feminine one was originally depicted in the procession of identically depicted goddesses (The Splintered Divine…, p. 75).

Masculine Shaushka (right) accompanied by Ninatta and Kulitta (wikimedia commons)

A restoration of the procession of goddesses, including feminine Shaushka (wikimedia commons)

A number of epithets applied to Shaushka were similarly explicitly feminine, for instance Hurrian “lady of Nineveh” (allai Ninuwawa) and Hittite “woman of that which is repeatedly spoken” (taršikantaš MUNUS-aš), implicity something like “woman of incantations” (Ištar of Nineveh…, p. 5); magic was apparently understood as a particular competence of this deity (Ištar of Nineveh…, p. 6). There is even a singular case of an incantation being explicitly attributed to Shaushka (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 98). 

Literary texts, chiefly myths from the so-called Kumarbi cycle, generally portray Shaushka as feminine too, and more as a love deity (to be precise, as something along the lines of a heroic equivalent of a femme fatale) rather than as a warlike one (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 85). Mary R. Bachvarova tentatively suggests that a reference to possibly masculine Shaushka might be present in the first of its parts, Song of Going Forth (also known as Song of Kumarbi), which mentions a deity of uncertain gender designated by the logogram KA.ZAL, “powerful”, which she argues has the same meaning as Shaushka’s name (Wisdom of Former…; p. 95 for the text itself, p. 106 for commentary). However, I’m not aware of any subsequent studies adopting this view.

Regardless of the contents of the literary texts available to us presently, Shaushka is explicitly counted among male deities in CTH 712. The enumeration in this ritual text also includes the “femininity and masculinity” of this deity. The male form of Pinikir is there too, though without a separate entry dedicated to any of his attributes or characteristics (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 219). Another example might be less direct: two descriptions of depictions of Shaushka use the terms “helmeted” (kurutawant), which referred to headwear worn by gods, as opposed to “veiled” (ḫupitawant), which referred to the typical headwear of goddesses. This lines up with the relief of masculine Shaushka from Yazilikaya (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 300).

A detail I haven’t seen brought up in any discussion of Shaushka’s gender which I personally think might be relevant to this topic is that their name occurs as a theophoric element both in feminine and masculine Hurrian theophoric names, which is otherwise entirely unheard of. Hurrians evidently were more rigid than Mesopotamians when it comes to theophoric elements in given names, as goddesses occur only in names of women and gods in names of men (Gernot Wilhelm, Name, Namengebung D. Bei den Hurritern, p. 125). 

Interestingly, Hittite sources pertaining to Shaushka offer a parallel to the “genderbending” curse formulas as well (My Men Have…, p. 363-364; note they are actually slightly earlier than the Assyrian examples). In a few cases, including a prayer and military oaths, this deity is implored to deprive foreign adversaries of the Hittite empire of their masculinity and courage, to take away their weapons, and to make them dress like women (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 90).

How did this aspect of Shaushka’s character develop? I’d assume that in contrast with Ninsianna and Pinikir, the influence of astronomical ideas about Venus can probably be ruled out. Beckman stresses that at least in Anatolian context Shaushka was evidently not an astral deity (Ištar of Nineveh…, p. 7). Timothy D. Leonard argues that the wings, which only the male form possesses, likely reflect a celestial role, but he doesn’t explore the point further (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 211). However, he notes that only Pinikir is explicitly identified with Venus in Hurro-Hittite sources, and presumably fulfilled the role of personification of this astral body alone (p. 225). 

Leonard argues that it cannot be established with certainty whether Shaushka  was perceived as capable of taking both male and female forms, as existing simultaneously as a male and female deity (with two bodies, presumably), or if they should be regarded as androgynous. However, he notes that there is no evidence for the recognition of any sort of nonbinary identity in known Hittite sources - so at least implicitly, he assumes the gender of both of the forms would need to be binary (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 298). 

It needs to be noted that the validity of applying the label “androgynous” to Shaushka has already been questioned all the way back in 1980(!) - in the first detailed study of Shaushka’s character and cult ever published, Ilse Wegner argued that in both visual arts and literary texts they are presented either as feminine or masculine, but never is their gender ambiguous (Gestalt und Kult der Ištar-Šawuška in Kleinasien, p. 47). Frans Wiggermann argues that KAR 307, which I already discussed and which describes a single figure with both masculine and feminine traits, might be related to depictions of Shaushka (Mischwesen A…, p. 237; thus I suppose the text would deal with an Ishtar, not with Inanna slash Ishtar herself) but this would quit obviously at best constitute a late exception which could be attributed to very vague familiarity with the deity. 

In addition to the options discussed by Leonard, a further interpretation present in scholarship is possibility is that Shaushka might have been seen primarily as a goddess, but performed a male role in specific context, to be precise when portrayed as a warlike deity (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 301) - in other words, that we are dealing with a similar phenomenon as in the case of Inanna. For instance, Wegner assumed Shaushka was essentially female, and the masculine portrayals merely reflect adoption of masculine-coded character traits and attributes as opposed to actual transformation into a male figure (p. 47-48). Gary Beckman similarly suggests that Shaushka was a goddess, and that the male form, which he likewise considers to be a military aspect, was interpreted as crossdressing, as opposed to an actual shift in gender (Shawushka, p. 1). Leonard accepts the possibility that the male form might reflect the fact that warfare was seen as an exclusively masculine pursuit in Anatolia, though since there are multiple sources where goddesses whose gender never shifted in any way appear on the battlefield he stresses it’s not impossible such gender norms did not necessarily apply to deities (Ištar in Ḫatti, p. 299-300).

Out of all the possible interpretations I personally find the possibility that Shaushka was imagined to shift between a male and a female deity to be the most convincing - in other words, that they were viewed as genderfluid, similarly to Ninsianna, though almost definitely for different, presently impossible to determine, reasons. However, since the matter is far from settled, I opted to generally use neutral forms across this section of the article - I hope this doesn’t make it too confusing. Can any of the information pertaining to Shaushka be applied to Inanna as well? I don’t really think so. For starters, no source goes out of its way to depict a feminine and a masculine form of Inanna in the same location, so I would argue that it is significant this is something attested for her counterpart - a sign that the latter’s masculine identity was more pronounced. Note that this is only my personal impression, though, and it might not fully hold to academic scrutiny, not to mention that the emergence of new sources might invalidate it.

Beyond Inanna: Shaushka’s other connections

While I focused on the connection between Shaushka and Inanna, it’s necessary to point out that the former was more than just a “foreign counterpart”. As a deity worshiped for well over a millennium, they amassed their own complex network of deities - often completely distinct from Inanna. For instance, it’s hard to find a parallel to Shaushka’s position as the sibling (and, in myths, main ally) of the head of the Hurrian pantheon, Teshub (not least because he represented a somewhat different model of a head god than Mesopotamian Enlil and Anu). However, to do this matter justice I’d basically need a separate article. Due to the scope of this treatment of Shaushka, I will limit myself only to a small number of figures they were associated with - either because they have something to do with their gender, or because they are additionally in one way or another connected to Inanna.

In Hittite context, Shaushka came to be closely associated with an Anatolian deity, Anzili (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 112). Since the latter’s character is poorly known (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 113), the reasoning behind the equivalence between them is opaque (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 119). Timothy D. Leonard tentatively proposes that Anzili’s name might be grammatically masculine and that it originally designated a god who later came to be seen as a goddess (as reflected in available sources), or that similarly as in the case of Shaushka both a male and a female form could be attributed to them (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 117). 

Untangling this problem is complicated further by the fact that Anzili’s name is used simply as a Hittite translation of Shaushka in both ritual and literary texts in which the deity of Nineveh is undeniably meant, down to being explicitly referred to with titles pertaining to this city - where Anzili obviously wasn’t actually worshiped (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p.120-121). Through the association with Shaushka, Anzili’s name even got to be used to translate the name of their Mesopotamian counterpart a few times - the Hittite translation of King of Battle, the most famous epic about Sargon of Akkad, refers to his divine backer as… “Anzili of Akkad” (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 125). Ultimately the translation was not entirely consistent, though, and texts written in Hittite where Shaushka’s name is nonetheless rendered phonetically, leaving no possibility that it was translated as Anzili, are also known (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 126).

Next to Inanna and Anzili, the deities probably the most commonly associated with Shaushka were their handmaidens Ninatta and Kulitta (Ištar of Nineveh…, p. 6). They could be portrayed as divine musicians (Gestalt und Kult…, p. 78), but also as warlike deities (John MacGinnis, The Gods of Arbail, p. 109). Ilse Wegner went as far as suggesting the phrase “right weapon of Shaushka” was an apposition of the pair, though that’s obviously speculative (Gestalt und Kult…, p. 79). 

Further information about their role is provided in a hymn to Shaushka (CTH 717). They are grouped in it with two other handmaidens, Šintal-irti (“seven-tongues”) and Ḫamra-zunna. The four of them are supposed to look after households which Shaushka views favorably, so that their inhabitants can live in harmony. Meanwhile, four other handmaidens, Ali, Ḫalzari, Taruwi and Šinanda-dukarni, are entrusted with making people in households which Shaushka resents quarrel with each other (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 120-122). It has been argued that this reflects the two aspects of Shaushka’s character - as a love deity in the case of the first four handmaidens, and as a warlike one in the case of the second group (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 123) - but I am skeptical if this can be easily reconciled with the fact Ninatta and Kulitta appear with them no matter which side of them is in the spotlight. 

Ninatta and Kulitta also represent probably the strongest case of Shaushka leaving a mark on their Mesopotamian counterpart. In the Neo-Assyrian period, they appear as members of the entourage of the latter not only in Nineveh, but also in Arbela and Assur under “Akkadianized” forms of their names, Ninittu and Kulittu (The Gods of Arbail, p. 109)

While Inanna had an extensive court - something that for mysterious reasons is not acknowledged online or even in publications aimed at general audiences (to use a recent example - even an a-list example like Nanaya comes up less times in Louise Pryke’s Ishtar than Buffy the Vampire Slayer, who, as far as I am aware, is not attested in any cuneiform texts) - I’m not aware of any instance of Ninatta and Kulitta being explicitly identified as counterparts of any of its members, though. Perhaps the fact that some of the cities in which they are attested were originally Hurrian has something to do with it - they weren’t introduced there as new additions, it was the Mesopotamian goddess who was superimposed over their original superior (The Gods of Arbail, p. 112).

Madonna-whore complex and beyond: (the modern reception of) Inanna as a love deity

After the brief detour focused on Shaushka, it is time to go back to Inanna - specifically to the most major aspect of her character I largely left out before, her association with love and all that entails.

As I already said, the oldest available texts affirming this was one of her prerogatives are younger than these linking her with war, let alone these hinting at her astral role. Regardless of when this aspect of her character first developed, it took until the Ur III period for it to take the center stage (Inanna and Ishtar…, p. 338). Simultaneously, it is by far the most well known today, to the point you often get the impression people barely know there’s more to her. Tonia M. Sharlach notes that even in scholarship there is discussion over whether this aspect of her character isn’t perhaps overestimated to a degree (An Ox of One’s Own. Royal Wives and Religion at the Court of the Third Dynasty of Ur, p. 268). 

At least when it comes to the spread of this misconception online, one is tempted to ask to which degree pretending this is the only thing about Inanna that matters amounts to the need to present her as some sort of demo version of Aphrodite, with limited, if any, concern for Mesopotamia.

None of these phenomena is why I kept it for last, though - even if I do agree that viewing Inanna simply as a “love goddess” is misguided at best. My decision simply reflects the fact that the relevant sources portray Inanna probably at her least gender nonconforming . As argued by Bendt Alster, in some cases in love poetry it would essentially be possible to substitute her and Dumuzi for an average young human couple without the need to make any adjustments (Sumerian Love Songs, p. 78).  Ultimately, these works reflect fairly normative ideas of courtship, romance and sex, though with a clear female focus (Frans Wiggermann, Sexuality A. In Mesopotamia, p. 412). The portrayal of love and eroticism in them has been described as “playful”, in contrast with the more blunt genres like potency incantations, or even with portrayal of sex in myths like Enki and Ninhursag (Jerrold S. Cooper, Gendered Sexuality in Sumerian Love Poetry, p. 92-94). Many of them are honestly an enjoyable read, as long as you are willing to engage with heavy use of assorted metaphors in descriptions of sex (date syrup, lettuce and agricultural activities are particularly abundant). Here is a fairly representative example:

The Song of the Lettuce (ETCSL)

There isn’t really much to say beyond that - they’re a fascinating topic in their own right, but they are largely irrelevant for the matter this article investigates.

Frans Wiggermann, an author whose work I generally value highly, made the peculiar argument that erotic poetry in which Inanna is the more active side and her goal is sexual gratification might reflect attribution of masculine traits to her and proceeded to argue every depiction of sex where the woman tops is ought to be related to this phenomenon (Sexuality A…, p. 417-418). He simultaneously raises an interesting point that these representations of Inanna might have been supposed to justify sex without the aim of reproduction. It is unclear to me how it would “allow minorities a place under the sun”, though (p. 418), as the sex scenes in relevant compositions are invariably straight.

While I am unsure about some aspects of Wiggermann’s argument, I should stress that I think it was made in good faith. Sadly this can’t be said about much of the other scholarship pertaining to Inanna and sexuality, and especially the intersection of the topic of sexuality and gender.  This matter has been investigated in depth by Zainab Bahrani in the early 2000s already. She argues that publications which overestimate the ambiguity of Inanna’s gender (which typically employ hardly applicable labels like “hermaphrodite”; she singles out Rivkah Harris’ Inanna-Ishtar as Paradox and a Coincidence of Opposites and Brigitte Groenberg’s Die sumerisch-akkadische Inanna/Ištar: Hermaphroditos? as relatively recent examples), in particular while emphasizing her erotic character, are essentially a leftover a fear of nefarious seductresses common in popular culture of fin-de-siècle Europe, for example in symbolist paintings (Women of Babylon…, p. 146).

Jen Delville's The Idol of Perversity, a fairly standard example of the sort of symbolist painting Bahrani meant, a representation of the fear of "unquenched bestial desires of a woman" (wikimedia commons)

I think it’s also a valid point that traits like assertiveness or a quick temper could very well be assigned to a femme fatale, and are not necessarily an indication of any ambiguity of gender (Women of Babylon…, p. 144), though I don’t think every aspect of Inanna’s characters needs to be subsumed under the erotic, and recent publications focused on her military role and its intersection with gender are much more nuanced, as you could see for yourself earlier.

Bahrani also highlights that publications she criticizes - both historical and modern - treat transsexuality, crossdressing and various adjacent phenomena and (male) homosexuality as basically one and the same (Women of Babylon…, p. 145; I will come back to this). However, I feel she falls into this trap herself to a small degree when it comes to women, as she appears to link the dubious Inanna scholarship  overestimating the ambiguity of her gender and the phenomenon of various femme fatale figures being portrayed as bisexual for voyeuristic purposes, and to Orientalist art at the very least implying lesbian activities (Women of Babylon…, p. 146). I am not aware of any actual publication dealing with Inanna or relevant phenomena (of any quality) which would go into this direction, though.

I also disagree with treating Inanna as unique compared to other goddesses just because she is not primarily portrayed as a wife or mother (Women of Babylon…, p. 149) - the median Mesopotamian goddess was a personification of a profession or the interests of a city or both, arguably; major members of the pantheon like Nanshe, Nisaba, Ninmug, Nungal or numerous medicine goddesses were hardly defined by either of these two roles, even if they could be, indeed, portrayed as wives or mothers in a capacity Inanna was not.

Most importantly, I disagree with invoking Freud and his disciples (positively, for clarity) to bolster arguments (Women of Babylon…, p. 153-154).

Still, I do think the core concerns raised by Bahrani are more than sound. The next section will sadly make that painfully clear.

Sexualization of lamenting

The validity of some of Bahrani’s criticism is pretty evident just based on the survey of past literature on the matter of the assinnu (The Misconstructed Role…, p. 83-84), a type of religious specialist or performer who you already met earlier in the subsection of this article dedicated to military curses. It would appear that the authors most keen on far reaching speculations about their gender identity and sexuality are probably some of the least qualified to deal with this matter, and lo and lo and behold, typically blur together being gay, nonbinary and any form of gender nonconformity. 

Furthermore, even though texts from Mari explicitly link the assinnu with Annunitu (The Misconstructed Role…, p. 94) - the single most straightforwardly warlike Inanna-ish deity of them all, whose very name, “the skirmisher”, refers to combat - a peculiar obsession with rendering their role into something innately sexual (or rather lascivious) just because of their association with Inanna, appears to be a distinct trend. It  intersects with the former issue; after all, it is known that anything but being a cis straight person who is a paragon of gender conformity is innately inappropriately (or even “abnormally”, as one of the past evaluations cited by Zsolnay critically put it) sexual.

For what it’s worth, there is some evidence that the assinnu were men who - at least in certain situations - crossdressed and played lyres (The Misconstructed Role…, p. 86). In an Old Babylonian hymn I’ve already mentioned, this is said to take place during a festival which also involved female performers who for this occasion dressed up in a masculine way and carried weapons, who are not described with any specific technical term (The Man is Like…, p. 6). Given the context of this mention, I feel the jury's out on whether this was universal, or merely a specific local festival, especially in the light of other evidence for the activities of the assinnu, though. The participation in a celebration which involved crossdressing could explain why late lexical lists - first examples only come from the Neo-Assyrian period, some 1000 years after the Mariote and Old Babylonian attestations - sometimes offer UR.SAL as the logographic writing of assinnu. This combination of signs can be interpreted in different ways - some probably can be ruled out since they refer to female animals (canines and big cats), not to people; this led to the common interpretation as “feminine man” or “woman-man” based on other sign values. Zsolnay disagrees with it, and tentatively proposes something like “servant of women” (The Misconstructed Role…, p. 85)., though this might be an overabundance of skepticism.

However, Zsolnay’s position might not be entirely unwarranted. She correctly points out lexical lists are not necessarily reliable when it comes to synonyms of technical terms, such as religious titles (The Misconstructed Role…, p. 86). Furthermore, the assinnu seemingly were famous for performing a song titled “Battle is my game, warfare is my game” (mēlilī qablu mēlilī tāḫāzu; presumably purposely a nod to terms often  used to describe Inanna’s warlike characteristics). They also danced the “whirl dance” (gūštu) - which likely also had belligerent connotations, and which quite importantly is the main topic of the poem Agušaya, which entirely focuses on Inanna as a warlike deity (The Misconstructed Role…, p. 93).  Yet more important is the fact that UR.SAL is not the only combination of logograms which could be used to render the term assinnu. The other option, SAG.UR.SAĜ, literally means “foremost hero” - in other words, it does appears to point at some sort of “warlike” or, to be more precise, “heroic” role  (The Misconstructed Role…, p. 85). Zsolnay accordingly concludes that the ordinary role of the assinnu was most likely that of an exaggerated “heroic strongman” performing war dances, and that with time an association between these specialists and festivals associated with the military aspect of Inanna (and similar deities like Annunitum) developed due to obvious similarities (The Misconstructed Role…, p. 98).

Nonetheless, just due to the association with Inanna combined with possibly vaguely gender nonconforming behavior (I will not attempt to evaluate whether it was a staple of their activities or only one of the celebrations they took part with), they came to be described in questionable scholarship as “temple prostitutes” (not an actually attested insitution, though it is evident we are dealing with a multi level conflation of crossdressing, being gay or trans, and sex work based on quotes from previous studies provided) whose very existence simultaneously must have terrified the general populace (The Misconstructed Role…, p. 85). 

I feel obliged to point out in a footnote Zsolnay states that after finishing her article she was informed by a reviewer similar conclusions about assinnu have been independently reached by Julia Assante in Bad Girls and Kinky Boys? The Modern Prostituting of Ishtar, Her Clergy and Her Cults. Sadly, while I am quite sympathetic to the latter author’s valiant struggle against the myth of “sacred prostitution” and related problems, her methodology is much more flawed than Zsolnay’s, and at times it feels like she herself falls into some of the pitfalls she correctly points out in other studies. I also feel obliged to warn you that for reasons uncertain to me, Assante at some point in the 2010s abandoned academic work and became a medium. Therefore, I would engage with her publications cautiously, to put it very lightly.

There’s at least one point Assante raises which warrants further consideration, though (even if she phrases it very differently than I would). She notes it is peculiar that any individuals whose gender might have been perceived as non-normative or ambiguous, or whose gender is unclear, are automatically presumed to be AMAB, and the possibility that women might have been gender non-conforming, or that people whose gender identity might have differed from Mesopotamian norms were AFAB, is not considered seriously. As an example, she points out that a passage according to which an enigmatic cultic official, the pilipili, received a weapon “as if she were male” sparked little, if any discussion (Bad Girls…, p. 36). This is definitely agreeable, and if nothing else a good start for further inquiries, considering no detailed studies of the pilipili alone have been conducted, as far as I am aware.

It might be worth noting that in the satirical Old Babylonian literary text The Old Man and the Young Girl the second of the eponymous character tricks her way into temporarily reversing gender norms through a royal court verdict, which prompts her to encourage other women to “behave like the pilipili” to celebrate her victory (Jana Matuszak, A Complete Reconstruction, New Edition and Interpretation of the Sumerian Morality Tale ‘The Old Man and the Young Girl’, p.192-193). While more evidence would be necessary to make a genuinely strong case, the possibility that the pilipili were women perceived as gender non-conforming does seem compelling to me on this basis - so, I suppose, credit to Assante in that regard, even if her treatment of the matter leaves a bit to be desired. It’s worth noting a similar proposal about the identity of the pilipili has recently been advanced by Sophus Helle based on the same passage Assante cited (Enheduana. The Complete Poems of the World's First Author, p. 158).

On a further related note, as a pure curiosity it’s worth mentioning that a single lexical list, Malku, lists the feminine form of assinnu - assinnatum - who never sparked the sort of discussion her counterpart did. It should be noted that this label is explained in this context as a synonym of ugbabtum, a fairly widespread type of priestesses (attestations are spread virtually everywhere from Terqa to Susa) involved in the cults of various deities (The Misconstructed Role…, p. 86). As far as I am aware, this is an isolated example, so for the time being it’s impossible to determine if assinnatum ever designated a distinct class of performers or cultic personnel or if it was a scribal invention. I’ll refrain from any speculation about whether it might have anything to do with the women who appear alongside assinnu in the Old Babylonian hymn discussed earlier.

To go back to the assinnu themselves one last time, a further thing to note is that sometimes far reaching dubious conclusions are drawn based not even on information pertaining to these performers themselves, but rather the gala and an enigmatic class of cultic officials presumably involved in mourning, the kurgarrû. However, while the latter two occur together quite often in literary texts (recall that the two clay beings in Inanna’s Descent bear the names Kurgarra - an obvious variant of kurgarrû - and Galatura, ie. “little gala”; however, note as well that gala also commonly occur alongside ašipu), there is very little evidence for any actual close association between them and assinnu - they only occur side by side in a single literary text, the lament Uru-Amirabi (The Misconstructed Role…, p. 91).

The gala (Akkadian kalû; not to be confused with galla, either literally a “gendarme” or town guard, or a type of demon fulfilling an analogous role in the underworld) themselves warrant some further discussion, as they are probably the most egregious example of the phenomenon discussed in this section of the article.

The primary role of the gala was performing various types of hymns, prayers and laments in emesal, a dialect of Sumerian (Paul Delnero, How To Do Things With Tears. Ritual Lamenting in Ancient Mesopotamia, p. 41). Through the third and second millennia BCE, gala most commonly occur alongside temple singers (nāru), for reasons which should be self explanatory, while in the first millennium BCE - alongside āšipu, a type of exorcist, which reflected the involvement of both groups in scholarship (Uri Gabbay, The kalû Priest and kalûtu Literature in Assyria, p. 116).

The gender identity of the gala is a subject of much debate. It might have been unique to them (in other words, they were nonbinary, with gala being both a professional designation and gender identity) or alternatively they might have been men who engaged in broadly speaking gender nonconforming behavior (How To Do…, p. 109). I am not going to attempt to convince you one option or the other is more plausible, I personally don’t think the matter will ever be possible to fully settle unless texts written by gala themselves going in depth into how they perceived themselves ever emerge. Obviously, we also have to take into account what exactly being a gala entailed varied between time periods and locations.

The only thing that can be said for sure is that the gala were not regarded as women. This seems to be an entirely online misconception, though one with an enormous reach - a post making similar claims garnered some 40k notes on this site recently. Said post also stated that they underwent “gender affirming surgery”; it needs to be noted that the status of the gala - or any other type of clergy - was in fact not attributed to any medical procedure (and I don’t think Magnus Hirschfeld, who pioneered gender affirming surgery and deserves more credit than he gets for it, lived in Early Dynastic Mesopotamia…). Obviously, this is not a denial of the possibility the gala weren’t cis (to put in in modern terms) - but it seems beyond credulous to both claim their identity depended on a medical procedure alone, and to project a fairly recent accomplishment for which a genuinely heroic maverick should be credited into incredibly distant past. I don’t think we need a trans version of “ancient matriarchy” mirages, personally.

However, ultimately the main misconception about gala is that they were “priests of Inanna” - and various mortifying hot takes emerge specifically from that. Especially online, more or less haphazard attempts are made to prove that, despite the plentiful evidence for what being a gala entailed, their role - and the roles of any even just tangentially related religious personnel - was innately sexual, since it was tied to Inanna (we have such choice tidbits as “males who engage in transgendered or prostitute behavior”, courtesy of Patrick Taylor, The Gala and the Gallos, p. 176; unclear to me how these labels are in any shape or form interchangeable). 

To put it bluntly: it seems like to some the fact the gala might have been, broadly speaking, lgbt (or just gender non-conforming) is in itself something sexual, much like the possibly gender nonconforming performance of the assinnu. 

What differentiates this view of the gala from similar faulty opinions about the assinnu is that I think at least online the intent often isn’t malicious - it is not wrong to hope someone in the past was similar (as I understand, the underlying assumption behind many misguided post is that the gala were trans women). However, sadly the underlying motivation of the authors whose takes end up laundered to teenagers online this way is ultimately an example of the same phenomenon which, in a more extreme form, leads to various suspicious groups calling for removal of the tamest possible literature for teenagers from libraries because a gay or trans character appears.

A further problem is that while the assinnu indeed occur chiefly in association with Inanna, the gala were not innately associated with her (and especially not with her sexual side) - referring to them as “priests of Inanna” is a misconception at best, and outright malevolent at worst (in bad faith cases, the logic follows what Bahrani described pretty closely). They were actually present in the cults of numerous deities, most of whom were paragons of gender conformity and had no sexual aspect to speak of - in other words, whatever the identity of the gala was, it was disconnected from the identity of the deity they performed for. Every single major temple dedicated to a city deity had a “chief gala” among its staff. Such an official oversaw the activities of other gala employed by it, but also took part in day to day economic activities of the temple, like managing prebends (How To Do…, p. 110). To go through all of the available evidence would take too much space, so I will only list a handful of particularly notable examples.

There was a “chief gala” among the staff of Ninurta’s main temple Eshumesha in Nippur, as attested in a list of provisions where this official appears next to a “chief singer” (Wolfgang Heimpel, Balang Gods, p. 583). In Old Babylonian Kish another “chief gala” was the second most important religious official in service of Zababa, with only the temple administrator ranking higher (Walther Sallaberger, Zababa, p. 165). A further “chief gala” resided in the temple of Sin in Harran, as attested in sources from the Neo-Assyrian period; the holders of this office were tasked with sending astronomical reports to the kings of Assyria (Steven W. Holloway, Aššur is king! Aššur is king! Religion in the exercise of power in the Neo-Assyrian Empire, p. 409). A “chief gala”, as well as a number of regular gala, were also part of the staff of the temple of Nanshe in NINA (reading uncertain; Tell Zurghul) in the Early Dynastic state of Lagash (Gebhard J. Selz, Untersuchungen zur Götterwelt des altsumerischen Stadtstaates von Lagaš, p. 205-206).

It’s important to note that the arts of the gala and the knowledge transferred among members of this profession - kalûtu - were associated with Ea, not with Inanna; the closest parallel are, once again, the arts of the āšipu (The kalû Priest…, p. 116). However, it would be disingenuous to call them “clergy of Ea” - I’m just highlighting they had no specific connection with Inanna. Stressing the lack of any unique degree of connection between her and the gala is not supposed to be an argument against inquiries into their gender identity, either - though I do advise to be cautious which authors are consulted. 

Maternal obsessions: do deities even follow gender roles?

While I dedicated a lot of space to warnings about questionable motivation behind some arguments pertaining to the gender of Inanna and especially clergy with varying degrees of association with her, it needs to be stressed that there’s a need to be cautious about the exact opposite attitudes too sometimes. While skepticism is generally a virtue in scholarship, it is hard to deny that some of the opposition to inquiries into Inanna’s gender and related matters also has highly questionable motivations behind it. 

For instance, my reservations towards Julia Assante’s article discussed earlier come from the fact that at least some of her criticism is rooted not in valid reasoning, but in what appears to be a degree of homophobia -  for instance, part of her opposition to interpreting cultic officials like the assinnu or gala as gay men (for which the evidence is indeed hardly sufficient - we have evidence for crossdressing in one case, and for either gender nonconformity or a unique gender identity in the other) stems from her conviction that this is an example of “abnormal male sexuality” (Bad Girls…, p. 37). 

Interestingly this is a selective case of homophobia, though, since she simultaneously voices a perfectly valid complaint that earlier scholarship has “not allowed discussion on lesbianism other than to dismiss it” (p. 36; it needs to be noted that in contrast with gay men, direct evidence for lesbians is lacking altogether in cuneiform - see Sexuality A…,  p. 414 for reference to a MLM love incantation and absence of a WLW equivalent - but you’d at least expect some serious inquiry into Ninshubur’s portrayal in literary texts by now). Some examples are even more blunt. For instance, Wolfhang Heimpel, after concluding that references to “bearded” Inanna reflect the perception of the planet Venus as opposed to the deity (which is not too dissimilar from the interpretation I highlighted as plausible earlier) reassures the reader that Inanna was therefore not an “androgynous monster” (A Catalog of Near Eastern Venus Deities, p. 15) - I am somewhat puzzled what exactly would be “monstrous” about facial hair. It’s hard to escape the conclusion that in contrast with the newer study of the same passages which I discussed in detail and have no objections to, it’s not the weakness of the evidence that bothers the author, but the slightest possibility of androgyny.

Not everyone is so direct, though. There are also more insidious cases - and these invariably focus on Inanna herself, as opposed to any religious officials. What I’m talking about are sources which refer to Inanna as a “mother” or “fertility” goddess or some nondescript “divine feminine” entity entirely detached from historical context. As a result Inanna is essentially forced into an incredibly rigid feminine role she never actually fulfilled. I won’t dwell upon the abstract maternal obsession itself much here. I already wrote a separate article a few years ago about its impact, exemplified by the recent portrayal of Inanna as a grotesque pregnancy monster in a certain videogame (this is not an exaggeration) and I think that was enough. It will suffice to say that these visions belong not in Mesopotamia at the dawn of recorded history, but rather in the most feverish depths of Victorian imagination (I won’t explore this topic here; Cynthia Eller’s publications are a good start if you are interested, though). Interestingly, simultaneously sources of this sort basically never investigate Mesopotamian texts which actually focus on motherhood - which is a shame, because compositions such as Ninisina A are filled with genuine warmth. However, they don’t deal with some sort of overwhelming Frazerian ur-mother reduced to bare biological essentials.

To go back to the main topic of this section, the  true crown jewel of the discussed subgenre of Inanna literature has to be this paragraph courtesy of Tzvi Abusch (Ishtar in Dictionary of Deities and Demons in the Bible, p. 453):

One is tempted to ask why Abusch argues Inanna is “incomplete” or exhibits “psychic wounds” due to her character not revolving around being a wife or mother. How about her roles as a war deity, love deity, personified astral body or representation of political interest of one city or another? Roles which are, quite obviously, fully realized? As a war deity, she was believed to assist kings, deprive their enemies of the ability to fight, and to confront various supernatural adversaries like rebellious mountains; as a love deity, she was invoked through love incantations and acted as the archetypal lover in erotic poetry; as Venus, she shone in the sky. 

Should we also question why, for example Tishpak’s roles as a husband and father are not fully realized considering he primarily plays the role of a warrior and divine sovereign of Eshnunna (the human ruler was merely acting as a governor on his behalf, a fairly unique situation otherwise only attested for two other gods)? Very few male gods actually match the image of masculinity presented in Instruction of Shuruppak as an ideal to strive for - just as very few goddesses fit the image of the ideal wife preserved in proverbs.

This is not the first time this comes up in this article, but while the world of gods, and the character of its individual inhabitants, obviously arose in specific historical context, it was not a perfect mirror of the world of humans and its mores  (Do Divine Structures …, p. 105-106). Ilona Zsolnay outright argues that even if some (but not all) of the Mesopotamian deities were at least in part characterized based on normative patterns of behavior tied to them - there are, after all, deities defined at least to a degree by, for example, fatherhood (like Enlil) or marital status (like Aya) - ultimately they were not bound by the same gender norms as humans. Furthermore, religious and political factors, as well as natural phenomena deities could be linked with, influenced their character considerably more (Do Divine Structures …, p. 116).

Granted, it should be noted that Abush is basically writing about an Inanna he made up. As you’ve seen earlier, the first attestations of Inanna already sound fairly similar to her most famous portrayals from later periods. However, he instead argues that the original Inanna lost to time was one of “primitive earth of mother goddesses” and that from the fourth millennium BCE onwards (coincidentally when the first actual attestations of Inanna emerge thanks to the advent of writing) Mesopotamians simply couldn’t grasp her true character (Ishtar, p. 454). The need to portray Inanna as she actually was imagined as some sort of aberration, coupled with a desire to uncover an “original” version which just so happens to conform to an incredibly rigid vision of femininity is quite something. Rarely do you see someone basically recreating the Madonna-whore complex so literally.

Absent parents, ever present children

While as I said I won’t engage in depth with the peculiar obsession with making Inanna into a maternal figure evident in Abusch’s treatment of her, I do feel obliged to cover a related phenomenon: the obsessive focus on the quite rare cases where some minor deities are identified as her children. This is a particularly big problem online, though vintage scholarship and publications aimed at general audiences (even very recent ones) are equally, if not more, guilty of it. 

The nominal assignment of largely irrelevant deities as children to Inanna was ultimately inconsequential, and in particular it had nothing to do with her erotic role - or with Dumuzi, for that matter, as he is never identified as their father (Inanna and Ishtar…, p. 339). Pregnancy, childbirth and maternity are not topics dealt with in compositions focused on the two of them (Gendered Sexuality…, p. 95). 

Only three deities have ever been described as Inanna’s children in primary sources: Shara, Lulal and Nanaya. In every single case caveats apply.

Shara’s connection to Inanna was geographically limited. It wasn’t a pan-Mesopotamian convention to regard them as related, but rather a local tradition restricted to Zabalam (Goddesses in Context…, p. 202). Julia M. Asher-Greve suggests that it might have originally been little more than a way to give Inanna access to the epithet ama, literally “mother” (but metaphorically, as a divine epithet, something like “venerable woman”; Jeremy Black, Songs of the Goddess Aruru, p. 48), which was however primarily used not to indicate motherhood but rather a position of authority in the pantheon (Goddesses in Context…, p. 140).

It’s also important to note that Inanna of Zabalam didn’t really start as (an) Inanna, since the earliest literary text she appears in, the Early Dynastic Zame Hymns from Abu Salabikh, refers to her with the enigmatic name Nin-UM. Joan Goodnick Westenholz assumed that Nin-UM was the original name of the goddess of Zabalam, with the name Inanna (and many of Inanna’s traits) effectively imposed upon her due to the theological and political influence of nearby Uruk (Goddesses in Context…, p. 42-43). Whether this was the case or not, the two are treated as functionally separate deities in god lists (Goddesses in Context…, p. 79-80). 

While this is far from certain, Douglas Frayne proposed that this phenomenon might also be the motif of conflict between Inanna and Gilgamesh, first attested in the standalone poem Gilgamesh and the Bull of Heaven from the Ur III period, and fully developed in the considerably later standard edition of the Epic of Gilgamesh (which might reflect what Paul-Alain Beaulieu described as “anti-Ištar sentiment”; The Pantheon..., p. 108). He assumes that it reflected hostilities between Uruk and Zabalam, with the antagonist actually being Inanna of Zabalam and not Inanna of Uruk (The Struggle for Hegemony in "Early Dynastic II" Sumer, p. 63-64). In any case, the connection with Shara cannot be taken out of context and applied where it is not explicitly mentioned.

The other most frequently cited case, that of Lulal, is even weaker than Shara’s. He is addressed as Inanna’s son exactly once, in a fragmentary hymn published in the 1960s (Anna Glen, Jeremiah Peterson, The Lulal širgida Composition CBS 12590 (HAV 5, pl. 7, VIII), p. 169) - so he has an equally firm claim to being her son as the personified Styx has to being Persephone’s mother. In Inanna’s Descent, the composition most often “enriched” today with forcible assertions of familial bonds between Inanna and miscellaneous side characters, the connection between them is merely “close, but unspecified” (Wilfred G. Lambert, Lulal/Lātarāk, p. 163). Anna Glen and Jeremiah Peterson assume he is an attendant, not a family member, and point out elsewhere (Inanna D, line 32) he is portrayed only as a minor warrior god acting on her behalf (The Lulal širgida…, p. 169). An annotated edition of the Weidner god list equates Lulal with Sin (Klaus Wagensonner, CCP 6.7.A - Weidner’s God List A) which, as it will become clear very soon, creates some issues for claims of widespread acceptance of his status as Inanna’s son.

The third deity sporadically addressed as Inanna’s child was Nanaya. In contrast with both Shara and Lulal, she was actually a major figure in her own right, and her connection with Inanna is attested in various cities and time periods. Ironically enough I don’t think I’ve ever seen her described as her daughter online, though. I suspect the explanation is fairly straightforward: she doesn’t appear in the “canon” of shoddy vintage translations of a small handful of texts on which the online image of Inanna often seems to be built.

However, the fact Nanaya had a firm connection to Inanna doesn’t mean undue importance should be assigned to the cases where they are presented specifically as mother and daughter. Only three sources actually refer to them this way: an inscription of king Lipit-Ishtar, a first millennium recension of an older balag song, and a unique oath formula. Olga Drewnowska-Rymarz assumes the relation described in them might very well be metaphorical (Mesopotamian Goddess Nanāja, p. 30).It would not be hard to find parallels proving this is a distinct possibility: Ninshubur was demonstrably not Inanna’s mother, and yet she addresses her as such as a sign of respect in at least one composition. Ninshubur herself has no known parentage, and yet refers to every high ranking god as “father” in Inanna’s Descent. The examples of using terms of kinship as an indication of respect or closeness are numerous.

Furthermore, multiple genealogies could be assigned to Nanaya. In laments, she is consistently the daughter of Urash, the tutelary god of Dilbat, for instance (Mesopotamian Goddess Nanāja, p. 31). Obviously, the fact that Nanaya could also be at least partially identified with Inanna (though this is a late phenomenon; Goddesses in Context…, p. 131) poses some problems for viewing them as child and parent. In most cases it’s probably best to agree with the description of the relationship between the two as “definite, but unspecified” (Joan Goodnick Westenholz, Nanaya: Lady of Mystery, p. 68). 

On a side note which is not directly related to the main topic of this article, it is quite peculiar that preoccupation with Inanna existing as a part of a family never seems to extend to highlighting her connection with her parents. Ironically, the family connections people downplay online are the ones which actually mattered the most theologically.

The tradition making Nanna (Sin) and Ningal Inanna’s parents was by far the most widespread one, and it is reflected in various genres of texts across history (Aino Hätinen, The Moon God Sin in Neo-Assyrian and Neo-Babylonian Times, p. 309-310; Goddesses in Context…, p. 230; The Pantheon…, p. 111; even Abusch’s Ishtar, p. 452). References to this connection are frequent in literary texts, even ones which don’t focus on Inanna, let alone on her family ties. For instance, Ka Hulu-a, which isn’t even a composition dealing with deities on the most part, casually refers to Inanna as “wise daughter of Sin” (dumu galzu Suenna; Jana Matuszak, Don’t Insult Inana! Divine Retribution for Offense against Common Decency in the Light of New Textual Sources, p. 361). 

The connection between Inanna and her parents was so strong it could be transferred to other deities by proxy. Both Shaushka (Marie-Claude Trémouille, Šauška, Šawuška A. Philologisch, p. 102) and Pinikir (The Goddess Pirinkir…, p. 27) - not to mention an entire host of major and minor Mesopotamian goddesses, ranging from Annunitum (The Moon God…, p. 313), though Belet-ekallim (Ištar in Ḫatti…, p. 160) to Nanaya (The Moon God…, p. 312) - could be addressed as the moon god’s offspring (or, at the very least, as the offspring of a moon god since at least in Shaushka’s case the name is in all due likeness used as a logogram).

Perhaps even more importantly, the connection between Inanna and her father was also responsible for her well attested association with the number 15, best reflected in the use of this numeral to represent her name from the Old Babylonian period onwards. Since Sin’s number was 30 (a reflection of the number of days in the lunar month), a half of that was deemed a suitable number to represent his daughter by ancient theologians (Wolfgang Röllig, Götterzahlen, p. 499).

Conclusions

I was initially reluctant to cover the topic of the gender of Inanna and related deities in depth, I’m frankly not sure why. It is not my intent to boast, but much of my online activity has consistently revolved around assyriology since 2020 (technically it has been my interest for much longer, but my methodology required refining). I wrote 200+ wiki articles about Mesopotamian deities, including multiple which specifically required dealing with the matter of gender; in contrast with the overwhelming majority of hobbyists I keep up with academic publications.

To go back to the question which originally inspired this article, I don’t think it’s possible to give a straightforward answer. I’d say at least some of the current mainstream Assyriological scholarship (by which I mean roughly from the mid to late 1980s to now) offers a fairly accurate evaluation of what can be said about Inanna’s gender, and about the gender of related figures - Ninsianna, Shaushka, Pinikir etc.; I hope spotlighting sources which can be described this way through the article makes this clear enough. Some specific details are definitely overemphasized (the eerie quest for a beard is the prime example but I’d be lying if I said Wiggermann’s puzzling views on femdom didn’t make me laugh). What is definitely overestimated is to what degree the supposed ambiguity of Inanna’s gender was tied to her sexual aspects. The general lack of any such characteristics among deities even more firmly associated with sexuality than Inanna was - I highlighted it in the case of Nanaya, but it holds equally (if not more) true for Ishara, Gazbaba, Kanisurra, Bizilla, the list goes on - also doesn’t seem to ever be highlighted. While obviously each of them was a deity with own unique character and not just a carbon copy of Inanna (for example, Ishara was associated with weddings in a capacity no other love goddess was, while Nanaya persistently appears in texts dealing with unrequited love or rejection), convergence of traits was a fairly common phenomenon in Mesopotamian religion. For example, numerous couples consisting of a medicine goddess and a war god emerged over the course of the late third and second millennia BCE - so surely it would eventually reemerge in one of these cases?

A further problem is of course the questionable scholarship based on these misconceptions which focuses less on Inanna herself and more on clergy associated with her, or even just vaguely adjacent to her. While a lot has changed since the early 2000s, let alone the 1980s, it is still arguably a major weakness of assyriology as a discipline that often gender, sexual orientation and presentation are often treated as entirely overlapping phenomena. There are numerous authors who write about relevant matters thoughtfully, but this is hardly the rule; especially when assyriology intersects with Bible studies or classics, the problem remains strong (meanwhile, in depth studies of, say, transmission of laments will often be quite cautious; it’s also not as easy as just blaming the age of some researchers and calling it a day).

However, there are also matters related to the gender of Inanna and related deities which definitely receive too little attention. To which degree what we know about Ninsianna can be applied to Inanna? Why the planet Mercury, despite also being regarded as switching between two genders, seemingly never came to be personified the same way as Venus? Why Shaushka and especially Pinikir appear in firmly masculine attire, while Inanna basically never does? All of these questions require further in depth inquiries. Much as I can’t give an unambiguous response to the initial question, I honestly don’t think it’s possible to give a straightforward answer on the matter of Inanna’s gender in the first place. Obviously, it’s impossible to disagree that fundamentally she was primarily a feminine figure. However, it’s also important to remember she essentially took a masculine role in the military context. I still stand by my joke chart from a few months ago:

While as I demonstrated things get much more murky when it comes to outright ambiguity or fluidity of gender, I would not rule it out entirely either, at least in an astral context - though I also doubt it’s fair to speak of anything directly comparable to the cases of Ninsianna, Pinikir or Shaushka. 

Perhaps in the end we have to simply accept how Inanna’s character is summarized in an Old Babylonian composition I brought up much earlier:

[targaryenluvs]

YOURS TRULY

pairings: dark!luke castellan x fem!reader, dark!percy jackson x fem!reader

summary: with one demi-god on your tail, you try your hardest to make your escape. but with two? they’re both no where near willing to let you go.

warnings: obsession, possession, stalking, implied kidnapping, sexual implications

a/n: look who decided to write again!

Icons not mine, credits to the owner!

it wasn’t hard for him to find you again. a given, he would track you down to the ends of tartarus as long as you wound up where you were meant to be.

by his side.

at first he’d been disappointed in himself when he fell for you. luke thought himself above that, thinking that he’d devoted himself entirely to his cause. but maybe being around so many kids for so many years caused him to soften in places unknown.

because when you’d limped into camp, collapsing in the strawberry fields and sending the the place into a tailspin, he found an eerie sense of peace with you. the words and thoughts in his heads were drowned out the second you looked up at him.

“it’s- it keeps- it’s chasing me.” his hand came down to your stomach, a lash ran across. not too deep, barely half a centimetre perhaps less. luke immediately picked up his sword in defence of you, waiting for the monster to show. meanwhile the other kids were either running for chiron and mr d or gearing up themselves.

there was no way they were missing the chance for kleos.

but the monster was already subdued, as percy walked out dragging a head along with him. “order to go?” you couldn’t help the smile that came across your face at his words. but luke didn’t like it, how the hell had percy beaten him to it?

over the next few months you found yourself in between the two of them, fighting for your attention. even if it was just for a minute. during the capture the flag you found yourself rotating teams every time since apparently the other promised victory every time. but you knew if you only focused on one of them the other would be angry.

everyone else at camp found it hilarious. two of the most well known campers competing for someone who apparently couldn’t care less. you just wanted to be at camp with your friends.

but what you didn’t know was that they were actively working against each other.

“nice sword skills jackson, a scarecrow teach you?” luke laughed as percy sighed, “your insults are weak castellan, so are your own skills.” luke raised his eyebrows, he was one of the best swordsman around in a long time. they both were one of few who saw the real sides to them, the jealousy and the arrogance. all because of you.

it got so intense to the point that you knew you needed to run. they were hurting eachother constantly, all for your approval, and even threatening your own siblings at times. to the point where they slowly began to distance themselves when the two were around. whether they’re excusing themselves for the bathrooms or just blatantly upping and leaving.

“hey y/n, how are you?” your spoon froze mid air as you heard percy’s voice, a quick glance at your siblings and you could see the fear. “guys, you mind giving us a second?” all your sibling at the table were younger than you and more than happy to leave, “i’m doing fine jackson. you?” you couldn’t be any shorter with him yet he always engaged himself in conversations with you. even when you were clearly uninterested.

“i’m doing amazing, now that i’m talking to you.” you flashed him a smile before getting up with your tray, “that’s nice, i’ll see you around.”

percy watched as you walked away, until he heard the voice he dreaded. “left alone are we?” luke joked whilst sitting down in the spot you’d occupied not too long ago. “shut up. she barely talks to you.” luke smiled, “well, when she’s with me we don’t do a lot of talking.” if looks could kill, luke would be a goner. “stop it.”

“bet i could catch her before you.”

“you’re slower than me let’s be realistic jackson.”’

“you wanna bet?”

and that’s exactly how you ended up here, knee-deep in the creek with either boy on each side of you. “will you just leave me alone? what is wrong with you!” luke’s face was cold, his grip on his sword was more than enough to make your heart race. “just come out and let me talk to you.” you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion at percy’s words, “why would i? it looks like you wanna kill me!”

“no!” luke’s shouting caused you to stumble back, “i mean— i would never hurt you.” he took a step forwards as you pointed your spear, “stay back!” unfortunately, you’d been so busy fending off luke you’d forgotten about percy to your left. you screamed at the top of your lungs when his arms came around you.

“hey, quit it.” luke whispered as his hand came over your mouth. “i don’t want to hurt you.” you’d be damned if you went quietly, so you shook and writhed. trying your hardest to get away, and luke had a short temper when it came to you. his sword came across your head, knocking you out cold. “what the hell!” percy yelled as you went limp in his arms. “she’ll be fine, now let’s get going.”

as they walked with you, either one couldn’t help but think, when they’d get rid of the other.

[wndaswife]

hi! do you think you could write smth about mean mommy wanda when she finds out that you've touched w/o permission? thank you so much, im obsessed w all of your fics!!!

breach of trust | wanda maximoff & fem!reader

While she’s away at a city council meeting, you find mommy’s collection of special pictures and can’t help but start touching yourself to them, and she isn’t particularly pleased when she comes home to see her baby having enjoyed herself without her.

Word count: 4963

Tags: smut (kinda), fluff, mdlg, aftercare, breast suckling, masturbation, spanking, degradation, mommy kink, there is crying but i don’t think it’s dacryphilia, but im tagging just in case you’re kinda into it, dom!wanda maximoff, sub!reader | MINORS DNI

gif credit to vanessacarlysle

Mommy was a special, important woman; she was one of the primary representatives for the town’s school district, so on some Sunday mornings she had to leave early in order to make it on time for city council meetings in which they discussed things from tax fund relocations to local events. 

Sometimes they didn’t talk at all about the school district, so mommy ended up leaving her sweet sleeping angel at home for no reason at all — or so she put it. 

But no matter what they discussed at those meetings, those Sundays where Wanda had to leave early were dreadful, for on these mornings you had to wake to an empty bed and no kisses from mommy until around lunchtime. 

Though on most occasions anyways, Wanda made efforts to message you to make sure you’d eaten breakfast and that you were holding up alright without her; she knew how lonely you could get home alone without her, for you wouldn’t let her come home each time without getting an earful of how much you’d missed her.

This morning seemed particularly long for whatever reason, and mommy hadn’t responded to you in about an hour, which meant that she was likely discussing something that did indeed involve the school district this time.

Breakfast was yummy fruits that had been cut up for you and refrigerated before Wanda left so you could have them with your waffles. 

Wanda was happy to see that you weren’t overdoing the whipped cream and syrup like you normally did when you sent her a picture of the breakfast you made, although you did add a few extra spurts of whipped cream after you took the picture to send to her.

You left the syrup as it was, though.

After that, you watched a few cartoons to which Wanda asked which of your stuffies you were cuddling with when you also sent her a picture of you sitting in the living room.

She still hadn’t responded to the picture of you hugging your stuffies close, which you knew she’d especially love because you were holding the bunny stuffie she’d gotten you for Easter a few months ago closest to your chest.

In any case, you were getting antsy and bored and you missed mommy an extra lot this time.

So you decided to start exploring.

You had only moved in with Wanda a few months ago, and though you had been here multiple times before you started living together, you still thoroughly enjoyed looking through mama’s things. 

She was only ever mildly annoyed when you unfolded her clothes, but otherwise she didn’t mind at all when her sweet baby was sitting in the closet looking through her things or sitting at her vanity fiddling with her jewellery. 

There was one time where you were smelling Wanda’s perfume and looking through all her jewellery and makeup, and she sat you down on her lap so the two of you were sitting in front of the vanity while mommy did your makeup and put her jewellery on you and sprayed you with the perfume you liked the most. 

The recollection made you all warm — you loved mommy so much. But it also made you even antsier, for you were now desperate for her attention and you missed her dearly. 

In dire need to feel mama close, you went upstairs and sat on the floor of the walk-in closet. 

Immediately, you unhooked one of her white cashmere pullovers and wore it before digging through the boxes on the top of her side of the closet. 

Most of these boxes had Wanda’s important memories, more expensive jewellery she didn’t often wear, mementos, and other things you really liked to look through because you loved seeing things like photos of her and Tommy and Billy or tickets to her first poetry reading she attended. 

There was a smaller box you hadn’t seen before, a white one set not on the upper shelf, but on the hanging closet organiser that both you and Wanda put some of your smaller things in, like scarves and belts. 

You made space on the ground for the box, moving the other things aside and sitting cross-legged while you inspected the box. 

Unsure why you hadn’t seen the box before during the other times you went through mommy’s things, you curiously opened the box and were met with a collection of pictures. 

Stored on their sides, you couldn’t see the contents of them until you laid the box on the side and carefully pulled the pictures out from the box. 

The sight made your face immediately heat up and you suddenly felt every inch on your body throb with desire and anticipation. 

There were nearly twenty photos of both you and Wanda having sex, all derived from several occasions. You’d known she’d taken them, as she always showed them to you when you were cuddled against her chest feeling all sleepy and happy, but you had no idea she printed them out nor had you seen any of them since she showed them to you the first time. 

There were some of them you liked particularly, photos of just mommy with a handful of her tits or while she was fucking you from behind or while she had you on your knees with your head buried between her thighs, or pictures with her fingers in your mouth or of you buried in her breasts while she rode the strap attached to your hips.

Why did mommy have these?

You felt a throb develop between your legs and you wondered if she used them to get off when she was without you, and though it made you pouty to imagine mama touching herself without you, it drove you up the wall to imagine her alone in bed looking at pictures of her sweet angel and fucking herself to them.

Then you started looking over the pictures of mommy’s tits and her view fucking you from behind and the one where your lips were wrapped around one of her nipples with her hand cradling the back of your head, and you felt yourself inadvertently beginning to press your thighs together, your cheeks heating up exponentially and your yearn to be with mama making it all the more intense.

By the time Wanda replied to your picture of you cuddling with your stuffies calling you adorable and telling you how much she couldn’t wait to be back home with you, you’d already taken your favourite photos to bed and laid them out on the blanket, now too distracted to notice the vibrations of your phone.

When you looked down at them all splayed out, you knew what it was that made your fingers begin to twitch and your knees begin to dig into the soft blankets of the bed, the sheets still a mess and the bed still unmade from when you woke up without mama this morning.

You took a few moments to look them over, each picture, feeling your body thrum impatiently while your mind raced to perhaps lock the images in your memory so you didn’t have to indulge in what edge you were about to spill over.

But that picture — oh, that picture — of mommy cradling the back of your head while you sucked sleepily from her breasts made you ache.

So you slid off your pyjama shorts and slowly took a pillow from against the headboard and slid it between your thighs, securing your knees around it and rolling your hips downwards.

You didn’t even pull your panties to the side at first, because you knew mommy didn’t like when you did anything like this on your own if you at the very least didn’t get her permission first — which she more often than not didn’t bestow, because mommy was a greedy and impatient woman when it came to you.

It wouldn’t be bad if you at least made yourself feel a little good, and your special big girl parts weren’t really touching anything but your panties.

But, oh, the smell of mommy’s cashmere sweater and the pictures of her pretty body made your head all woozy.

You used the same laundry detergent and all, but mommy’s clothes always smelled a little different somehow; it smelled richer, like some of her perfume or her shampoo, though you know it had been washed away in the washing machine.

In any case, you just felt completely surrounded by mama, and when you pulled your panties to the side and began rubbing your throbbing clit against the pillow, you didn’t feel that you were exactly disobeying her when everything surrounding you reminded you of her.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been going at rubbing yourself against the pillow to the photos of mama because you were in a strange place of feeling guilty that you were doing it and not wanting to be conscious of how long you were disobeying her for, and sheer pleasure from riding your pillow looking at pictures of mama that you could just look at over and over and over again, and they’d be there every time you opened your eyes or looked down at the blankets where they were sprawled out.

Though the amount of time you’d been doing it for didn’t matter, at least not to Wanda, who you hadn’t heard come home and walk up to the bedroom.

Perhaps she’d been suspecting that you were up to no good when her baby was uncharacteristically silent over texts, or that you were sleeping and decided not to make too much noise when she came up and looked for you.

Whatever it was, it was only until she dropped her purse on the floor a few feet away from the bed to storm over that it finally broke you from your concentration and made you realize that she’d come home.

By the time you looked up, she took your face in her hands and angled it up so you could look at her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she growled, looking down at you.

Your stuttered attempts to answer her question ended up being worth nothing when Wanda looked down at the bed and saw the sprawled out photos in front of you. She looked over at the closet and noticed the other photos left on the floor along with the open white box she’d stored them in.

With a hum that was startlingly cool and unassuming, she looked back over to you, her eyes scarily focused as she said, “It seems we have a rat infestation; my things being gone through while I’m not home, my things not being in the same place they were when I set them down.”

You swallowed and kept quiet, for you knew she was leading up to something; if it were not for the frightening steadiness in her voice, then it was the way her fingers remained pressing into your cheeks as she held your head in place.

“Unless you have an explanation as to why those pictures are on the floor, Y/N?” she asked, tipping your head down a bit so you had to look up at her as if you were a guilty puppy.

There was no use lying now, and besides, you’d felt guilty for what you were doing ever since you laid the photos down on the bed.

“It was me, mommy, I made the mess,” you confessed. “And I was doing big girl things without mommy’s permission.”

Wanda’s eyes narrowed slightly, and then she looked down at the sweater you were wearing. The flash in her eyes seemed to be one of adoration, and you at least knew that a part of her appreciated you wearing her clothes when you were home alone.

Indeed, she did see the image of you with your face in her hands while you looked up at her with the sweetest pleading eyes and wearing her clothing to be a most adorable sight.

“Do you know what makes mommies, mommies?” she then asked.

Perking up a little as you thought about it, you answered hopefully, “Having a baby like me to care for?”

“And what does ‘caring’ for a baby like you mean, Y/N?”

You hummed thoughtfully before responding, “Giving me kisses and cuddling me and making me feel like the most special little girl in the world.”

“Oh, of course,” Wanda conceded, smiling at you. 

But her grip on your face did not lessen.

“Yet, if that were the only way mommies care for their babies, then anyone else could do the same and be just as important to you as mommy,” she explained. 

“Sweetheart,” Wanda cooed, “there’s one thing you’re missing.”

When you didn’t answer, looking at her curiously without any implication that you knew what it was that you were missing, mommy said, and tightened her grip on your face, “Discipline — mommies get to discipline their little girls when they’ve been bad.”

She suddenly pushed you back and let go of you, using her other hand to tear the pillow out from between your legs. 

“No, mama, please!” you begged, getting onto your knees and crawling over to her. “I apologised already!”

“I have yet to hear this apology,” she said as she collected the photos from the bed.

She was right — you’d forgotten to apologise.

“I’m sorry! Mommy, I’m sorry! Please don’t give me spankings!”

“I’m happy to see you can take responsibility for your actions, honey, but what kind of precedent would I be setting as your mommy if I let your disobedience go without punishment?” She placed the photos on the nightstand and straightened with her hands on her hips. “Be a good girl and take your clothes off.”

You sniffled and crawled forward further so you could kneel in front of her. “Please, mama, I don’t want to,” you continued to beg.

“Colour?”

“Green,” you answered honestly and sniffled, still hoping she’d take pity on you.

She maintained, “Then I’m sorry, honey, but you need to take your clothes off — now.”

You rubbed your eyes and Wanda clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, reaching down and slapping your hands away from your face.

“You do not want to make mommy angrier than she is right now, angel,” she snarled from beyond a clenched jaw as she tightened a hand around your wrist. “I’ve been dealing with bullshit all afternoon and I come home to see you fucking off as if I’ve never disciplined you or taught you any form of manners in your life. The punishment I currently see fit is nothing compared to what I will force you to take if you don’t get your fucking ass up and take your clothes off.”

You knew there was nothing else to do but obey when mommy was this angry.

Earlier, you hadn’t realised how upset she already was; she must’ve been holding her tongue or trying her best to maintain her patience. She told you her punishment for you would be worse if you didn’t undress right this moment, but you also knew that the punishment you were getting now was already worse than what she’d originally intended when she caught you masturbating.

You took mommy’s sweater off first and then your panties, but when you moved to take off the loose cropped pyjama top that barely covered your tits, mama hooked a finger under the strap of it and released it so it slapped lightly against your shoulder.

“Leave this on,” she said. “I like how they make your tits look.”

Her thumb ran across one of your breasts and she thumbed for a moment at your nipple, amused at how quickly it hardened and how you pressed your lips trying not to moan in the face of how you were just about to be punished for indulging in pleasure.

She let go of you and sat down on the edge of the bed, adjusting her posture to allow you enough space to lay yourself across her lap.

Not protesting even a little bit, you crawled over to the edge and laid your stomach on her thighs. She moved around a bit so you were able to lay both your arms and legs down on the bed, leaving only your hips arched up a bit with how you were sprawled out across her lap.

“Spread your legs,” she told you, and you obeyed, making sure both of your legs were still on the bed so you could allow her proper access to you.

Wanda draped an arm over your waist and secured you in place while her other hand parted your thighs a bit more so she could lean over and inspect your cunt.

“Look at how wet this pussy is,” she said, disappointed. “You got so far without mommy’s help. Are you a big girl now, Y/N? You don’t need mommy to make you feel good?”

“No, mommy!” you protested immediately. “I-I was looking at pictures of you, mommy.”

She hummed, seemingly unconvinced, but you couldn’t tell for sure now that you were sprawled out across her lap, unable to see her face.

A thumb delved into your folds and spread you open, revealing just how sticky you’d gotten all on your own.

“It’s disgusting how good you seemed to have felt while knowing you were disobeying your mommy,” she said. “Mommy is very, very disappointed in you, honey, and not only because you disobeyed me, but because this filthy little cunt is telling me that you have no problem doing big girl things on your own. Does it feel better on your own, Y/N?”

“No, mama!”

“How will you prove it to me?”

“I can prove it to you — I can. I’ll take my spankings, mommy. I’m a good girl. I am. I made a mistake, but I love my mommy and I don’t want to do anything without mommy’s help. I was being selfish and I just missed you so much.”

“That’s sweet, honey. Indeed, you will have made it up to me should you take your spankings like a good, obedient girl. I understand little things like you make mistakes, and perhaps if it were any other day, I might choose not to punish you at all. But because you chose to be selfish today, I see it fit that I get to be selfish too. I’ve had a terrible day, and I want to be able to do what I want with my little girl to make me feel better. Does that sound fair to you, angel?”

You nodded quickly.

“Good,” Wanda said, “because mommy is feeling very, very upset.”

Worrying that perhaps if you questioned her at all you might set her off even more, but feeling curious anyways, you cautiously asked, “Why are you upset, mama…?”

Wanda took a handful of your ass, inspecting its soft, supple skin being taken into her hand. “Dealing with dim-witted idiots who seem to have no intention of saying anything worth anyone’s time yet taking it all up nevertheless has made mommy rather frustrated,” she answered. “Do you know how frustrating it is, baby, to expect so much more from someone, only to be disappointed?”

You were sure the question was rhetorical, so you could bury your face in your arms in shame while mommy delivered your first spank, eliciting a muffled yelp from you.

She continued, “I pour so much time and effort into those useless city council meetings, and yet it’s always the school district representatives that get overlooked. You have no idea how upset it makes me, angel, to come home and see you fucking a pillow of all things, because you were too much of a desperate, horny slut to listen to mommy’s rules.”

Another spank.

Wanda squeezed your ass and dug her fingers into your stinging skin.

“I want to hear you apologise again,” she demanded.

Immediately, you raised your head and said, “I’m sorry for not listening to mommy’s rules! I’m so sorry, mommy.”

Spank.

“What rules did you break, exactly, Y/N?” she pressed.

You swiped at your eyes and answered, “Baby isn’t allowed to touch her big girl parts and do big girl things without mommy’s permission.”

Another spank — this time, one on both sides of your ass.

“Why did mommy make that rule, sweetheart?”

“Because I’m too little to make big girl decisions,” you said, “and only mommy is big enough to know what’s best for me.”

Wanda rewarded your answer with a quick swipe of her thumb through your pussy, lightly grazing against your clit, before returning her hand to squeezing at your ass. “And don’t you see what happens when little girls make big girl decisions? Hm?” she pried. “Now you’re all filthy and ill-mannered, and mommy did not train you to be like that.”

Then suddenly, mommy was spanking you over and over, all over your ass, covering your delicate skin in flushed shades and trails of her nails.

“No one seems to want to listen to me today, honey,” she gritted. “And I thought that my baby, out of everyone, would respect mommy enough to listen to her.”

Seemingly propelled forward by the verbalisation of her anger, Wanda used one hand to spread your ass and delivered a spank to your pussy, making you cry out into the bed sheets.

“Nevermind the other idiots from the council, but I walked into this room feeling very betrayed and ignored by the sweetest, most beloved thing I’ve ever made mine,” Wanda explained sternly. “And there are not enough words in English nor Sokovian that could sufficiently express to you how upset that makes me feel, bunny.”

It was not the pain from the spankings that made you break, but instead, it was mommy talking about how betrayed and ignored she felt that did it.

“I didn’t mean to make mama feel bad,” you sniffled and rubbed at your eyes with the back of your wrist.

Wanda paused her spankings and replied, “I didn’t quite catch that, sweetheart.”

You raised your head and took in a deep breath to steady yourself before saying, “I was just being selfish, mama. I really love mommy so much.” You rubbed your eyes again when tears started forming. “I’m not a big girl. I still need my mommy. I’m still just a baby and I still need mommy.”

From the way you were facing, you couldn’t see what mommy looked like when you said all that, and you weren’t sure if you were about to see what other punishments she had in store for when you disobeyed her even further.

You buried your face in your arms again and shut your eyes.

“Why don’t you tell mommy more about that?” Wanda asked, her voice smooth but not indicative of if she was upset or not.

Sniffling, you turned your head to the side so she’d be able to hear you when you spoke. “About what, mama…?”

A soft hand ran down the expanse of your stinging ass, almost soothingly.

“About how much you need your mommy,” she clarified. “Come on, honey. I want to hear about how my sweet little girl still needs her mommy.”

You wiped your face of your tears and raised your head.

“U-Um,” you stuttered, now feeling a little shy now that mama was asking for all your mushy feelings about her. “Well, I’ll always need mommy. Need mama to dress baby and make breakfast and cut up baby’s fruits in little shapes.”

The more you talked about it, the more lighthearted you became, and you perked up a bit as you started thinking more and more about what you needed Wanda for. “And!” you started again, excitedly. “And I need mommy to give me baths and cuddle me and give me kisses when I have nightmares. And I need mommy to hold my hand when I’m scared, and I need mommy to help me do big girl things.”

While you were speaking, Wanda kept rubbing her palm softly against your ass, and you imagined that she was pleased with what she was hearing for she stopped spanking you and talking about how upset her day had made her.

And mommy always liked petting her baby like that when she was content, like when you laid your head in her lap or when you were resting back against her in the bath.

“I like hearing these pretty things coming out of your mouth, honey,” Wanda said, sounding truly very grateful. 

Then, she pressed a kiss to both sides of your flushed ass and gave you a gentle pat. “Come up and sit with mommy,” she said. “Are you alright? You aren’t feeling too hurt?”

Carefully and modestly as to not be improper by suddenly getting up and jumping into bed with mommy, although you certainly did want to, you sat up and followed mama to where she positioned herself against the headboard. 

You shook your head and crawled over to her, where she sat you down on her lap and took you into her arms. “Feeling okay, mama,” you answered. 

Wanda smiled, and she seemed much more relaxed than she did earlier. She stroked your cheek with her thumb and kissed the tip of your nose. “That’s good, sweetheart,” she whispered. 

She looked down at you in a way that made you just absolutely melt, the way she was holding you close and petting your hair and touching your face. 

“Do you want mommy to make you feel good?” she asked, trailing a hand down to your lower stomach. 

You thought for a moment and Wanda waited patiently, until you cuddled closer and shook your head. Gently, you tugged on one of the buttons of her burgundy blouse and looked up at her pleadingly. 

The picture of you suckling from mama still rang clear in your head, and really, it had been that picture that tipped you over the edge. 

“Oh my,” she breathed out, impressed as she raised her eyebrows. “My little girl always has the best ideas, hm?��� 

Wanda pinched your nose, which made you giggle, before she began unbuttoning her blouse, doing it slowly enough so you could watch each one come undone, exposing more and more of her. 

She looked at you with a smile on her face as you watched her unbutton her shirt, simply taken by how much love her little girl had for her. 

When her blouse was unbuttoned with just her bra keeping you from her breasts, Wanda leaned down and kissed your lips and then your forehead. 

You hooked a finger around her bra and looked up at her for permission. She gave you a single nod and, eagerly, you pulled her bra down and released one of her breasts. 

Wanda brought you forward, and your lips immediately latched onto her nipple. She sighed in satisfaction and she leaned back against the headboard, stroking your head softly as you sucked. 

“That’s good, bunny,” she whispered and brushed the corner of your mouth with her thumb. “Ah, your lips are so gentle.”

After a few tender moments, a sudden thought came to you and you unlatched from mommy’s nipple and looked up at her before asking quietly, “Why did you have those pictures, mommy?”

“The pictures of the two of us, angel?” she asked and looked down at you cuddled against her. She tapped your nose with her finger. “The one you were being all naughty with earlier?”

You blushed and turned your face away a little.

Wanda’s other hand that cradled the back of your head used its fingers to tilt your head the other way so you were looking back over at her. “I couldn’t stop looking at them on my phone and decided to get them printed. I was planning on sharing them with you soon, but I couldn’t find the right time,” she told you, her voice sweet and soft.

“It’s partially my fault — what happened earlier,” she then added, her fingers stroking your cheek. “I shouldn’t have kept the treats out where my little kitten could find them.”

She smiled when you giggled and she leaned down to kiss your forehead. 

Then Wanda said quietly, “Thank you for being so sweet and patient with me, baby.” She hugged you closer so you could rest your head on her chest. “I know you did something bad today, but I didn’t have to be as harsh with your punishment as I was. I was just very upset, and seeing you do such things without me made me feel very left out.”

You looked up at her from her, nearly about to tell her how much you loved her again, but Wanda could understand it from how you looked at her. 

“It’s okay for you to make mistakes sometimes, sweetheart, especially when I know you did it just because you missed me. I lost my temper, is all. Thank you for caring for me by being so understanding, even when I was being a little mean. Even little girls care for their mommies too, you know.”

Sitting up a bit, you wrapped your arms around her shoulders and hugged her. “I wanna care for mommy forever and ever,” you voiced proudly. 

“Only if I get to be your mommy forever and ever,” Wanda teased, kissing your cheek and rubbing your back with her other hand. 

“I’ll always need mommy.”

“Then I’ll always need my little girl.”

[vitaminkyeom]

us, again || j.ww

“MAYBE NEXT TIME, IT WILL BE US, AGAIN”

PAIRING || Wonwoo x Female Reader

GENRES || Angst, Fluff, Strangers To Lovers AU (?), Reverse Chronology

SUMMARY || If crush at first sight was a thing then you were a fine example of it. How you were heads over heels with a man you had just met was beyond you but you all you knew was Jeon Wonwoo had occupied every bit of your mind and heart. But when you and him finally began dating, little did the two of you expect a your relationships to turn out this way.

Or, in which, you and Wonwoo unfortunately have a happily never after ending.

WARNINGS || none

WORD COUNT || 11.3k

A/N || This was so self indulgent that it almost hurt me to write this fic TT. Based on my interaction with the guy I liked it in college and no we did not end up together i really hate you @wonumatics for instigating me to write this but ngl, it was so so easy to write this and was a huge change for the crazy writers block my other fics have been facing :D. The story is written in a different way, sorry if it's too confusing but i just wanted to try out smth new for this.

TAGLIST || @hanicore @alyssng @hyneyedfiz @weebotakuboy @aaniag @jjeongddol @k-drama-adict @thepoopdokyeomtouched @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hrts4hanniehae @mnstxmnbb @athanasiasakura @doubleshoticedshakenespresso @escoupseu @asasilentreader @isabella29 @mrswonwooo @wonvsmile @nonononranghaee @cheolsboo @hoichi-02 @lanatheawesome @sana-is-ms-rmty @gaslysainz @sea-moon-star @dinossaurz @veriety-is-the-joy-of-life @tinkerbell460 @bluewbwerry @iamawkwardandshy @hoeforcheol @kawennote09 @gyuguys [if you want to be added to my taglist, fill in this form!]

30.09.2024

You stood on a familiar path, the autumn leaves decorating the path just like how it had when you and Wonwoo had walked through it years ago.

Cold wind blew against you but you were so numb with emotions that it didn’t even matter. You took out a photo from your pocket; it was the one you and Wonwoo had taken at the amusement park.

You smiled involuntarily at the memories; even though you had been very scared of the rides, Wonwoo made each ride as rideable as he could.

And you were thankful to him for that.

In fact you were thankful to him for many things. Especially loving you back and giving you his time.

But maybe this lifetime wasn’t meant for the both of you.

“Next time.” You muttered, folding the paper and slipping it back to your pocket. “Maybe next time, it will be us, again.”

30.06.2024

It had been six months since Wonwoo moved out and words couldn’t describe how much you missed him. Even though he was always running in your mind, there were certain times when you missed him even more.

Like now.

You were lying in bed all alone, the morning sun being up for hours. But you were too lazy to wake up, missing the warmth your boyfriend used to give you whenever you snuggled to him or the smell of food as he attempted to cook breakfast for you.

Honestly all you were doing was staring at the ceiling, the feeling of missing Wonwoo almost gnawing at your heart as you glanced at the missed call of his on your phone screen.

The first two months had gone really smoothly. You didn’t mind being woken up early or going to bed late just to talk to him and neither did he. But as the days progressed, you found yourself having to prioritise work or other things before him. And so did he.

Slowly, you two began missing each other’s calls, resorting to texts. 

You both still texted a lot but it wasn’t like talking to him face to face. You missed seeing his face, hearing his voice and the tears pricked your eyes when you realised just how lonely you were feeling.

Or some days you were just too tired to stay awake and fell asleep.

Exactly what had happened yesterday night. And now the guilt along with the longing to be in his arms and bury your face into the crook of his neck to inhale his scent was eating you up.

You took the phone in your hand, wondering whether or not it was the right time to call him.

What if he was sleeping?

But it wouldn’t hurt to give it a shot, right? 

Thinking that, you hit the call button and waited for Wonwoo to pick it up. But even after multiple rings he didn’t pick up, and you sighed before throwing the phone beside you on the bed.

He was probably asleep.

You missed him so much. So, so much. 

You weren’t sure how long you could go about living like this anymore. You had applied to be shifted to the same country as Wonwoo and you were still waiting for the approval. 

But the wait was eating you up.

When was the last time the two of you talked? You couldn’t even remember.

What had gone wrong in the relationship? You weren’t sure. The two of you had promised each other that you won’t be like how you had begun to be whilst living together; missing dates, missing out on talking to each other etc but now it was worse. He was on a whole different continent and you had no way of reaching him even if you wanted to.

You thought of all the time the two of you argued, wondering why you even did that in the first place. Instead the two of you could have made better memories which you could have looked back at now.

And the more you thought of it, the more you realised that most of the arguments were started by you. 

But all because you felt like a burden to him.

It was always you who had to do everything first. You were the first one to reach out to him, The first one to confess. The first one to kiss. The first one to always compliment him. And while you loved his introvertedness you realised with a jolt how that made you exhausted sometimes, being an introvert yourself.

Yet for him you always went out of the way. Trying your best to impress him and shower him with love even in ways you were never that comfortable in.

Shut up!

Why were you having such negative thoughts? Wonwoo loved you. And he always made sure you knew it. So why were you questioning it now?

But no matter how much you tried to shrug off the feeling, you couldn’t stop the pain blossoming in your heart.

Were you both really not meant for each other?

Was that why things had started going down during college itself?

Maybe everyone was right. Wonwoo and you were never meant to be with each other. The two of you might have loved each other, but you just weren’t meant for each other.

No, no, no! Stop these thoughts right now!

You thought of when Wonwoo had come back home three months agp, staying back for fifteen days to visit you, his family and friends.

Back then you had promised him that you would go out with him every single day to make up for all the time you had lost. Had promised the love of your life to give him every second you could.

But you couldn’t.

Right at that time an important project had popped up, nearly rendering you sleepless and breathless. You barely went back home, let alone get time to spend with him.

And before you knew it, it was time for him to leave. You cried so much on the day he left but no amount of tears would bring back the time you had lost and not managed to give him.

Maybe you both weren’t compatible.

Maybe this was your fate. To fall in love with someone who was never meant to be yours in the first place. Someone who deserved better.

Pushing yourself up from your bed, you sighed, making up your mind.

You just couldn’t live like this. Not anymore. 

And you were going to put an end to it.

20.12.2023

“Hey,” You greeted him with a smile as you opened the door, taking in his tired appearance. “Long day?”

“Yeah.” He muttered, stepping into the house. You reached forward to help him shrug off his coat but instead, he pulled you into a hug. 

You found yourself immediately melting into his warmth that encased you, hugging him back equally tight. “What’s wrong?” You asked, gently patting his back.

“What, I can’t hug my girlfriend?” He muttered into your hair, and you found yourself giggling at his actions. “Yeah, you totally can. Lean into me as much as you want, baby.”

After what felt like an eternity Wonwoo pulled away, finally grinning at you. “That felt great.”

You smiled back at him. “Good. Then how about you freshen up while I set up the table? I’m done making dinner.”

“No.” He whispered, suddenly sounding urgent. “We, uh, we need to- we need to talk.”

You look at him, confused as to why he was acting so serious. “About what? What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“I- uh, I-” He stammered. Then lowering his head so that it was resting on your shoulders, he murmured. “I’m getting transferred.”

“What?” You asked, not sure if you heard him correctly. “What was that Woo?”

“I’m being transferred. Abroad.”

You stayed silent for a few seconds, letting his words sink into you. 

Transferred abroad.

Slowly, you pulled him away from you so that you could see his face. Wonwoo averted his eyes down and his grip on you tightened.

“You’re…what?” There was no way this was happening right? There was no way Wonwoo was moving away. A hollow sensation filled the pit of your stomach. How were you going to live without being able to be with him everyday?

“Moving abroad. It’s- it’s a better pay and I thought-”

“Wonwoo.” You said, smiling at him as you took his hands in yours. “Do you want to?”

“What?” He asked, sounding confused now. “Do you want to go abroad?” You repeated your question.

“Yeah, I-” He looked down at your intertwined hands. “I do.” He murmured, barely audible. “I do. It’s a great opportunity. But I don’t want to leave you. I can’t imagine-” he sucked in a breath before continuing, “-living without you.”

“Neither can I.” You muttered. “But, if you’re happy, then I’m happy. If moving out is what you want to do, I will wholeheartedly support you. Even if it makes me sad, it will make me sadder knowing I held you back.”

“So… you aren’t upset at all?” He asked. You smiled at him as sweetly as you could, feeling it wobble a little. “Nope.” You choked a bit. “I won’t miss you at all .”

Wonwoo chuckled, before sniffling and to your shock you saw a tear glide down his cheeks. “I love you so much. I’ll miss you so much.”

“Oh Woo.” You sobbed, you too crying as you gently rubbed away the tears from his cheeks with your thumb. Laughing a little as another sob escaped you, you pulled him into a hug. 

Your hands dug into his back as you cried, letting the tears fall now. He too clutched you tightly, as though you might disappear if you let you go even a bit. 

“Do you think we can do it?” He sniffled, to which you nodded. 

“I know we’ve talked about how slowly everything is starting to feel like a chore now, and it’s no more like it used to be in college but I promise you, I’ll keep in touch. I’ll never ever let you go.” You whispered into his shoulder.

“Me too, love. Me too. I promise too.” He said. “I cannot even imagine breathing without you.”

“At least we won’t have missed birthdays or dates.” You joked, still crying. You felt Wonwoo chuckle, his chest rumbling. “Yeah. I’ll call you to greet you good morning and good night no matter the time or day and I expect you to do the same.”

“Right.” You sighed into his chest. “Should we start making a list right now?” 

17.08.2023

Ding!

You jumped awake at the sound of the notification, searching for your phone in a daze.

9.30 pm.

Groaning, you stretched your hand over your head, trying to get the tiredness out of your system. Looking around with a sigh, you wondered why no one had bothered waking you up. Even though the office was sparsely populated at this time, you had thought some of your friends would have woken you up if they caught you falling asleep.

Unless they all had left before…

The last week had been an extremely busy week, with a new project coming up and Wonwoo’s surprise birthday party planning-

Oh no. Oh no.

Hurriedly, you grabbed back your phone, switching it on to check the date and time again. It couldn’t be today, could it-

You were greeted with at least twenty missed calls from your common friends, Mingyu and Wonwoo.

“Shit, shit, shit.” You muttered, quickly searching up Mingyu’s contact and hitting the call button.

After two rings, he picked it up. 

“Hey, Y/N.” He said, sounding mildly annoyed. And Mingyu rarely got annoyed.

“Oh god, Gyu! I’m so, so sorry! I was so exhausted I fel asleep and completely lost track of time-”

“Well, you could have set an alarm since you knew today was an important day.”

“I know, I know.” You said, already packing your things up as quickly as you could. “It’s totally my fault. Where are you guys? It will take my just fifteen minutes to reach home if I run and then you can bring Wonwoo over-”

“It’s okay, Y/N.” He cut you off. “We went to a bar instead and celebrated, but he wanted to leave early. He’s at Seungcheol’s now and he said would come over to the apartment once he was okay.”

You had been running out of the building by then but you stopped, pausing to swallow at what Mingyu had just told you. “Oh god, so he- so he doesn’t want to see me? I- I should call him and apologise-”

“Oh, he told me to tell you that you shouldn’t call him or text him for a while, not until he’s over this.”

You felt your knees buckle as you covered your face with your free hand to stop the tears from falling out. You felt so torn. And so heartbroken.

You had planned all day and night for this party. You wanted it to be special for him. Wanted it to be something that he would remember for a very long time.

But now even though he would remember it for a very long time, it would be for the wrong reasons.

“Listen Y/N. It’s okay. Work happens and I know it's terrible forgetting someone’s birthday and being forgotten on your birthday but I’m pretty sure you both will be able to work it out.” Mingyu said.

“Yeah.” You sniffled, feeling like the world had just come crashing down. “I’ll let him call me.”

You heard Mingyu cut the call and stayed in the same position for some time, trying to control your emotions. You had been feeling so overwhelmed this week but you had really wanted to give Wonwoo the best birthday party you could. 

But all your efforts had gone down the drain and also your boyfriend was mad at you. 

You couldn’t imagine how Wonwoo felt and that made it worse.

This wasn’t the first time either of you were forgetting a date. Ever since the two of you started working it was like all the free time of your life had been sucked out. Which was why you both had decided to move together in the first place. So that even if it wasn’t possible to go on dates you would at least see each other and be close to one another.

But forgetting his special day was… on a whole different level.

The first rain drop hit your head at the same time you finally shed a tear, unable to hold back anymore. You sobbed heavily as it started raining, feeling the rain wash away your tears even before you felt them.

With a jolt you realised you had left your umbrella back in the office in a hurry to leave, and by that time it was too late. You were already drenched as you got up slowly, feeling the rain hit every bit of your wet skin now.

Sighing once more, you slowly trudged towards your apartment. You remembered how Wonwoo always used to pick you up whenever it rained whether or not you had an umbrella.

Maybe you deserved the rain. 

13.06.2022

“I could get used to this.” Wonwoo muttered, before edging closer to you to peep into your answer. Flushing in the face, you hastily closed the book shut before shooting your boyfriend a glare.

“What?” He asked, sounding hurt.

“Don’t- don’t look at my answers!” You said, looking down in embarrassment. “They’re all wrong probably.”

The truth was, you were terrible at gas propulsion and had asked Wonwoo to do a group study in hopes that you would be able to understand something from him at least. And so far you hadn’t even asked him to show you how to solve even one problem, feeling embarrassed that he would think you’re an idiot if you did.

Which was funny because it was almost three years that the two of you had been dating and yet you still felt embarrassed and shy around him. (You were not sure at this point if it was a good thing or a bad thing.)

“As if. You’re not that bad.” Wonwoo huffed, gently reaching out to grab the book from your hand.

“That’s right. I’m terrible.” You muttered, accepting defeat and letting him open your book. Wonwoo didn’t say anything as he stared at your almost empty page and you were sure he was snickering inside.

Instead, he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me you were not getting these sums?”

“I, uh.” You looked down, feeling your cheeks heat up. Suddenly you felt his finger grip your chin and angle your head up, so that you were forced to look at him. “Look at me, baby.”

You felt your cheeks flush even more.

“Yeah, uh yeah. Sorry.” You muttered, unable to tear away your eyes from his intense yet soft ones. “I, uh, didn’t want to bother you.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m always here to help.” He said, before leaning in to press his lips against yours. Your mouth automatically parted as his breath hit yours, feeling soft lips encase yours. 

“I just don’t want to look stupid in front of you.” You muttered, your lips brushing against his. “Don’t want to burden you.”

“First of all, you’re not stupid. Just because you don’t get a subject doesn’t mean you are stupid. Second of all, you are not a burden to me. You never were and you never will be. So don’t you dare think that again” Wonwoo said, frowning at you. 

You leaned back to look at your boyfriend who was still looking at you slightly angrily, as though you had just insulted him. You felt a smile tug at the corner of your lip.

“I love you so much Wonwoo.” You whispered, taking his hand in yours. Wonwoo’s cheeks turned a dusty pink as he smiled back at you, placing another peck on your lips.

“I love you so much, too. Now come here while I explain these sums to you.” He said, sitting at the spot on the sofa right next to him.

“By the way.” You said, crawling over to him. He wrapped an arm around your back so that the two of you were cuddling, and he placed the book on your lap. “What did you mean by ‘I could get used to this’”?

“Oh I just meant that I could get used to coming over and studying with you.”

“Aren’t you romantic?” You joked, scrunching up your nose in fake disgust. “Are these study sessions replacements of our dates?”

“Hey at least we’re together and I’m not ditching you like the shitty boyfriend I was.”

“You weren’t shitty-” You began before he cut you off.

“No, I was. I could have at least informed you. You were always so understanding if I cancelled it even at the last minute even though you always kept your promises. So I’m determined to make changes now.”

“Wow.” You said, placing a kiss on his cheeks as you melted at his touch even more. He was always so warm and comforting and that always calmed you down. “I’m really beginning to enjoy my final year of college.”

“I have loved college since the very first day when I laid my eyes on you.”

Your cheeks heated up more quickly than you had wanted it to and you smacked him on the face lightly. 

Which he dodged by turning his face at the last minute, kissing your fingers instead.

“Woo!”

“But seriously.” He continued, his voice dropping lower as a serious look masked his face. “I liked you so much but I never knew how to tell you that so I was over the moon when you confessed to me.”

“And I was so sure you would not like me back ever that I was jealous of you and Sohye when I first saw her.”

“Awww.” He cooed, causing you to glare at him. “My baby was jealous?”

“Not that jealous. Don’t get yourself too ahead Mr. Handsome.”

“And wow! You think I’m handsome too?”

You laughed at his antics, wondering for the millionth time how you were so lucky to end up with him.

“It’s okay baby, I think you’re pretty too.” 

18.09.2021

“I waited for an hour!” You snapped at the phone, before inhaling sharply to calm yourself down. You did not want to get mad at Wonwoo but this time, he had taken things too far.

“It’s the third date in a row!” You hissed into the phone as you kicked the door of your shared apartment open, striding in angrily after throwing your shoes towards the shoe rack. “Do you not respect my time?”

“Baby.” You heard Wonwoo inhale too, as though trying not to raise his voice at you. As calm as Wonwoo always was, you always knew when he was angry. And with how dangerously low his voice had dipped right now, you could tell he was fuming at you too. “Try to understand. I’m not doing this on purpose-”

“But you’re not the only one with an internship, Jeon Wonwoo!” You interrupted him, finally losing it all. “I’m doing my internship and managing my outings too. I always put away my time for you Wonwoo. When you ask to go on a date, I always manage to squeeze time.”

“First of all, I rarely ask to go on a date because I know you’re busy. Second of all… well I’m sorry my internship is not as flexible as yours but do you really not care about my internship-”

“You could have called and told me!” You screamed, throwing the phone on to the bed before crashing into it, tired. tears pricked your eyes. “You could have told me Wonwoo. I wouldn’t have been mad. I would have understood. Instead you made me sit there like a fool and all because you completely forgot about me.”

“Baby?” Wonwoo sounded panicked. “Are you- are you crying?”

“No.” You sniffled, aggressively rubbing away your tears. “I’m not.” 

“Shit, sorry baby.” Wonwoo said. “I'm so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you at all. It’s just that this stupid internship just randomly throws in dates to do the work.

“I know.” You muttered, letting the tears fall smoothly now. You felt so hurt. You were mad at him for not even telling you that he wouldn’t be able to make it. The both of you were barely able to meet up with each other even though it was summer break and you had begun to miss him more than you had expected. 

But what hurt more was that Wonwoo never informed you if he was not able to make it to the date, and you felt like a burden to him. Like he was only agreeing to them in the first place because you asked to go on dates.

“My work gets over at 3 pm today.” Wonwoo said softly. You kept quiet, silently asking him to go on as you had no idea what he was trying to suggest. “So if you want I could get some takeout and drop by your apartment by four to watch a movie. How does that sound?”

You sucked in a breath harshly. “Really?” You asked, sounding a bit sceptical. “You mean it?”

“We could rewatch frozen if you want to?” 

“Really?” This time you exclaimed, almost jumping out of the bed in happiness. You felt yourself fall in love with Wonwoo all over again at his efforts to make up for the failed dates.

“Yeah baby. I promise I’ll be there.” He said.

“Well, you even promised that you would come today-”

“Hush. No, I won't repeat that ever again. I’ll never make a promise that I can’t keep from now on. Ever.”

“Promise?” You giggled, already stepping into the shower freshen up.

“Promise.” He said. 

23.11.2020

“So your parents aren’t home?” Wonwoo asked as you carefully balanced the bowl of popcorn in one hand and nachos in the other, eyebrows scrunched in confusion before placing them on the tea table in front of him. Then, sitting down beside him on the sofa you nodded to his question. “Correct. So no funny business, okay? They lectured me for an hour about trust and responsibility before leaving.”

“No funny business, huh?” He muttered, eyes flicking over you lazily, causing your cheeks to heat up like it did every time he did that. He tilted his head and smirked at you, before suddenly grabbing you by your waist and jerking you towards him. You let out a yelp as your back hit his chest but before you could wiggle out of this position, he tightened his grip on you.

“I wonder what funny business they could be talking about. “ He whispered, thumb gently rubbing small circles over your stomach, the thin fabric of your t-shirt letting his warmth seep into your skin. 

“You know what they mean.” You muttered, cheeks flushed in embarrassment as you stared at his arm wrapped around your body. You always loved his arms for some reason. Loved the way his muscles flexed every time he cuddled a kitten, loved the way his veins slightly popped out when he held your hands in his. 

“Oh no. I couldn’t possibly know what they mean, right?” 

“Wonwoo.” You groaned, leaning back a little so that your head was resting against his shoulder. He chuckled in response, pressing a quick kiss on your forehead. “Sorry it’s just…you’re so adorable when you’re so flustered.”

“Says you when you were the one who looked scandalous after Mingyu kissed his girlfriend.”

“That’s because he is only allowed to kiss me.”

You turned back to give him a dry look, but all you got from him was a laugh (much to your delight though). 

“I hate you so much.” You said before looking away, still leaning back so you were sitting comfortably against his chest.

“And I love you so much.” He muttered, his deep voice rumbling behind you. A second passed before his words finally settled in, causing the two of you to freeze. You tensed up in his arms and felt him too still behind you. 

I love you so much. 

Love. He loved you.

And it was like Wonwoo’s words had broken down the dam in your heart because as the river came down crashing, you felt a surge of emotions flow through you, hitting you with a realisation.

You were in love.

You were in love with Jeon Wonwoo. 

Slowly, you turned back to look at him, blinking at him a little as he too stared back at you with a shocked expression.

“I’m- I’m-” He stammered, unable to meet your eyes anymore. You could hear your heart hammering in your ears as you asked softly. “Wonwoo? Did you mean that?”

Slowly, he looked back up at your face, cheeks flushed before giving you a small nod. “Yeah.” he muttered. “I love you.”

You felt your mouth fall open slightly, as you felt your heart skip a beat. “Oh, Woo.” You whispered, gently cupping his face. “I love you too. I love you so much.”

Wonwoo blinked at you for a few seconds before breaking into a shy smile. You too felt your cheeks heat up again, before looking away, unable to maintain eye contact anymore. Your hand slipped off his cheek onto your lap but he immediately reached out to grab it in his, bringing it closer to him so that it was resting on his lap. 

Silence engulfed the two of you like many other times and like all them, it wasn’t uncomfortable. You could still feel your heart hammering loudly at your chest as you tried not squeezing Wonwoo’s hand too tightly out of the little sparks of excitement you were feeling.

After some time, you heard Wonwoo speak. “Well…that was sudden.”

“Yeah.” You giggled, unable to contain yourself anymore. “You would think we just started dating. Who would think it's been almost a year?”

“It doesn’t feel like a year. And I love the fact I still get butterflies in my stomach when I look at you or even think of you.” He whispered. 

You wondered if couples who were ‘comfortable’ with each other still felt this shy still but you pushed away that thought from your head. People still felt butterflies years into their marriage right? Which meant they were still nervous even after all these years.

“Me too.” You whispered back, before snuggling into his body. Wonwoo immediately wrapped his arms around you and you melted into his touch, finally turning your concentration back to the movie.

03.05.2020

“Should we leave?” Wonwoo asked, sliding his fingers into yours as he came and sat down on the empty chair beside you. You tore your attention away from what you were talking with Sohye and her small group of friends towards your new boyfriend.

The party was still going on but as soon as your eyes landed on him everything, including the dazzling lights seemed to dim away despite having spent the majority of the evening with him.

His eyes seemed to be shining behind the glasses as his lips curled into those soft smiles that always had your heart racing at a thousand kilometres per hour. You stared back at him as his lips moved slowly, nearly melting in his beautiful brown eyes, your heart squeezing painfully.

“Earth to Y/N?” Sohye’s voice brought you back to the present, causing you to jerk as you looked at her in surprise just as she let out a laugh. You looked around the group in embarrassment as the other girls too giggled, trying to figure out what they were talking about.

“Oh god Sohye.” Dahyeon giggled, “Why did you stop the love birds?”

“Shut up.” You muttered, breaking eye contact to glare at the girls. You heard Wonwoo chuckle beside you, causing your cheeks to heat up more as you felt his voice rumble in your chest too. 

“We’ll be bidding our goodbyes then.” The chair beside you scraped as Wonwoo got up, causing you to look up at him. He extended his hand to you and you lightly placed your hand over it, not expecting him to grip it tightly and pull you up. You managed to mask your look of surprise with a sudden laughter, waving goodbyes to everyone as you allowed Wonwoo to pull you through the crowd.

Even though it was hot at the party, especially with your heavy makeup and large earrings that you chose to wear, you could still feel the heat of Wonwoo’s palms searing through your skin. You were very conscious of his soft skin against yours, but you decided to ignore it for now as you stumbled through the crowd and finally made your way out.

The cold wind hit you almost immediately and you found yourself gasping in relief, not realising just how suffocating the house had been. It wasn’t like you weren’t enjoying yourself, but too much social interaction had drained out your battery completely.

“Are you okay?” You heard Wonwoo ask and you nodded, unable to meet his eyes for some reason. “Really?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You muttered, turning to face him but looked over his shoulder instead. 

“Hey,” he said, grabbing your wrist that caused you to finally look at him. “Look at me.”

“I am.” You squeaked, and then cleared your throat and spoke normally again, “I am.”

Wonwoo smiled softly at you, causing your knees to go wobbly again. “Now you are. What’s wrong? Did Sohye make you feel uncomfortable? Did one of the girls say something-

“What? Oh no, Woo!” You cut him off in surprise. “No no no. Sohye was amazing! And so were the other girls.”

You hadn’t realised how tense Wonwoo was until right now, as he relaxed his shoulders and let out a breath.

“Thank god. I was worried for a second. Then what’s bothering you?”

You bit your lips, unsure how to go about it. “Well, I kind of hoped- kind of thought we would get to hang out with each other more. It’s the first time we saw each other face to face after I… after we confessed. So yeah, I had hoped to spend more time with you.

“Oh.” Wonwoo looked at you apologetically. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise- I didn’t think- Oh shit I’m so sorry. I was excited to see you but I thought you wouldn’t want to see me or would want to hang out with the girls.”

You cocked your head to the side in confusion. “Why would I not want to see you?”

He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, unable to meet your eyes now. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I was thinking.

“It's okay.” You said, suddenly feeling slightly uncomfortable. You didn’t want to make things awkward at the very beginning of your relationship itself so you decided to let the topic go instead. Besides, Wonwoo was on the quieter side. Maybe he didn’t know how to communicate it with you.

Just as you were about to step out of your house the first droplet of water hit your shoes, and Wonwoo immediately pulled you back into the veranda where the two of you had been standing. Within two seconds it started pouring, getting you both stuck there.

“Do you want to go in?” You asked Wonwoo, wondering if you both should take shelter back in the house. The rain wasn’t falling on either of you but you wondered if he would rather use this time to talk to his friends than you.

“Are you cold?”

“Um, no.”

“Then I’m okay here. I didn’t spend time with my beautiful girlfriend and now she’s rightfully upset with me.”

Heat rushed up your cheek and you playfully hit his shoulder. “Don’t- don’t throw around that word just like that!”

He grinned at you, stepping closer so that you could feel his body heat radiate off his skin and causing goosebumps to form on your arms due to the cold. “What words?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes at him. “You’ll be the end of me Jeon Wonwoo. Please don’t make me flustered.”

“Aw, but you look so cute doing that!” He pointed out, his words making your stomach jump again. You glared at him.

“You did it again!”

“I’ll do it a thousand times more if it means getting to see you this way.” 

You turned her head away from him so that he couldn’t see you flushing like that when you felt his knuckles brush against yours. You took this opportunity to wrap your hand around his. His palms were still warm and comforting and it made you realise just how cold you were because of the rain. 

He gave your hand a squeeze which caused you to look at him again. Wonwoo smiled at you, turning his head a little to the side as he gazed at you softly. 

“Hi.” He whispered.

“Hi.” You giggled back.

“You look beautiful today. Did I tell you that before?”

“Only seven times before right now.” You laughed.

“Right. That’s because you look gorgeous everyday-”

You were not sure from where the sudden urge or courage came, but hearing him compliment you for the millionth time that day broke something in you and you found yourself leaning up to smash your lips against his. As soon as his lips touched yours you felt sparks go off in your heart, causing you to close your eyes shut and enjoy the tingling sensation you felt all over your body.

But two seconds later, you realised what you were doing and with a gasp you jerked back.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry-”

Your sentence was cut off as Wonwoo captured your mouth in his, enveloping your lips in warmth. Your eyes fluttered close when you felt an arm go around your waist and you clutched his shoulder to steady yourself. 

Your stomach kept somersaulting every time Wonwoo moved against your lips, every single second feeling electrifying. Slowly, you cupped his warm cheeks with your hands, kissing him back with everything you had.

Because you felt like you were in heaven. His searing mouth on yours felt like heaven. Every bit of skin his other hand touched left a shock at its wake and you felt like you were going to combust there and there.

After what felt like an eternity and you were nearly out of breath, you broke apart, gasping for breath. Your cheeks were on fire and you could still feel his breath on your lashes, making you unable to look at him.

“Y/N.” Wonwoo whispered, his voice sounding a bit hoarse.

Slowly, you looked up to meet his eyes. Your knees nearly went weak and you were glad he was holding on to you as soon as your eyes met his soft, dark ones. They were filled with so much emotion that you felt your heart would burst.

He leaned in until your foreheads were touching, and you felt yourself smile at the gesture.

“Hi.” He whispered, his lips brushing against yours slightly.

“Hi.” You whispered back.

27.07.2019

“I ordered your favourite cake.” 

Wonwoo greeted you with a smile as you practically ran into the cafe, breathing very hard as you tried to catch your breath. You smiled back weakly at him before sitting down on the chair opposite to him, fanning yourself lightly, praying that you weren’t sweating too badly.

“Thank you.” You whispered in between breaths and he just smiled more widely at you, the familiar spark shooting up your stomach. “I’m so, so sorry that I’m late. I completely miscalculated how much time it would take me to reach here and the traffic was so bad that-”

“Hey.” He whispered, reaching forward to hold your hand in his. He gave it a gentle squeeze that shut you up completely, looking down at both of your intertwined hands. “Don’t stress about it. I just saw that your favourite flavour was there but it looked like a lot of people were buying it so I wanted to get it before it went out of stock. I’m not upset that you are late. Traffic can be really stressful.”

You stared at him for a second, heart swelling at his sweet gesture before you remembered to respond. “Still, thanks a lot. I just feel bad because I asked us to meet here and then I was super late.”

“Well, in that case.” Wonwoo leaned back and folded his arms, his muscles flexing underneath the cardigan he had worn, easily showing how well built he was. Oh to have those arms wrapped around you- Not now Y/N! “You can let me treat you this time.”

“What? No way! I invited you over!” You complained, getting up to pick you both of your orders before he could. Wonwoo laughed at the way you darted towards the counter with your phone already in your hand, as though afraid that he might pay instead. The sound of his laughter was so endearing that you felt your cheeks heat up, glad that your back was facing him now.

His laughter. You loved hearing him laugh. You loved being able to make him laugh. And you wanted to be one of the reasons he smiled and laughed. 

“Here.” You said, placing his cake and drink in front of him before sitting back on your seat, sipping on your drink nervously as you mulled the question you’ve been dying to ask in your head.

“What's wrong?” Wonwoo asked and you said, “Nothing.” a bit too quickly. 

“Hmmm. What’s wrong? You know you can talk to me about anything right?” He said, reaching out for your hand once again. The look of concern on his face was enough to melt you into a puddle but for the sake of your dignity, you held on, pretending that him rubbing small circles on the back of your hand with his thumb was not doing things to you.

“Yeah. I know.” But how can I talk to you about you?

“It’s just that…” You began, trying to rephrase the question that was the main reason you had asked to see him. “I wanted to ask- I wanted to know if you- if you want to go out with-”

“Wonwoo?” A voice cut you off from behind and you turned to see who it was, eyes meeting with a girl of your age beaming at the two of you- no, at him, brightly. 

You blinked in surprise as you felt the small courage you had managed to build to ask him out break, turning back to look at Wonwoo as his smile widened as recognition dawned on his face.

“Sohye?” Wonwoo asked, standing up to greet her. You too stood up and that’s when she finally noticed you, smiling at you equally gracefully. As you beamed back at her, you felt something move lightly against your lips and with horror you realised you had some cream stuck on to it. 

“Hi.” Sohye greeted you sweetly, as you waved a hi at her, the napkins that you had hurriedly grabbed still in your hand. “I’m Sohye.”

“She’s my neighbour.” Wonwoo explained, still smiling sweetly at her.

Had he ever smiled at you like that?

You winced at your own thoughts when you realised how pathetic you sounded, letting the green eyed monster take control of your thoughts.

“And this is Y/N.” Wonwoo said, pointing at you.

“Ah, so you’re the Y/N?” She asked, eyes widening in amusement as she looked between you and Wonwoo. You laughed at her statement politely, unsure about what she was talking about. What was that supposed to mean? Maybe you shouldn’t have read too much into your friendship and assumed that he might like you in a more than a friend way. Maybe you-

Your eyes fell onto the tote bag she was carrying and you felt your stomach drop. 

Oh.

They were in the same technical club. So she wasn’t just his neighbour, then? This meant that they were really, really close friends. And you knew how hard it was to get into that club so she must have been really brilliant. 

So Sohye was Wonwoo’s pretty and smart neighbour, friend and now even possibly his love interest? Because the way he was looking at her with those soft, smiley eyes, there was no way he saw her as a friend only.

There was no way you stood a chance. 

What were you even thinking? There was no way you ever stood with someone like Wonwoo. Someone as sweet, as nice, as funny (in his own ways, though Seungkwan would disagree), as handsome, as beautiful, as caring and as kind as him. 

“He talks about you all the time.” She added, nudging his chest lightly and your ears perked up. What?

“Hey! You promised!” He gasped, crossing his arms over his chest in faux betrayal. 

Sohye rolled her eyes at him. “Promised what?”

“You know…” He began, before locking eyes with her. The two of them seemed to silently converse about something before she shrugged, patting him gently as though she understood what he was implying at.

Great, now you were feeling like a complete idiot. Apparently he talked about you but one could talk various things about someone all the time, including their bad qualities. So what was it that Wonwoo talked about you to Sohye all the time?

“Fine, fine. I’m sorry. I need to leave now but don’t forget about this Saturday’s party Wonwoo.” At this, he let out a groan and flopped onto his seat, earning a giggle from you because you had never seen him this fed up about something. You saw the corner of his lips quirk up as his eyes flicked to yours, causing your cheeks to flush up like they usually did whenever he looked at you like that. Then turning to you, she winked, before adding. “Oh, you’re invited too. Just that you need to have a date. So make sure you ask someone out, okay? Sometimes, men are just so dense that you need to be the one who…ah, takes the initiative for everything.”

You blinked at her, trying to process what she had just said. Did she mean Wonwoo. No way right? But then-

“She’s nice, isn’t she?” Wonwoo asked as he watched Sohye walk out of the door before turning to look back at you. She gave you a thumbs up and everything sunk in finally. “She’s really-”

“Do you want to go out with me?” You blurted out, with a sudden surge of confidence given by Sohye, and unable to contain the question anymore. Wonwoo froze, staring at you with his mouth open, not even blinking as though he was completely dumbfounded by your question.

Immediately you felt dread fill the pit of your stomach as you almost heard your heart shatter, an ugly, nauseating pain beginning to clutch your throat and chest. Wonwoo blinked at you, opened his mouth once and closed it, and you felt tears stinging at the corner of your eyes. 

It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay! Don’t just cry, okay? 

Your nails dug into your skin, leaving crescent moons on it as you gave him a weak smile, trying your very best not to burst into tears because of how dejected and hurt you felt right now. Why did you listen to Sohye, a complete stranger? 

“Ignore me.” You said, your voice coming out more choked than you had expected it to. You could actually feel yourself choking, the pain almost unbearable and you quickly reached forward to swallow down your drink in an attempt to calm yourself down. 

“Wait!” Wonwoo yelped, jerking forward to grab your hand so suddenly that you almost flinched back in surprise. You looked at him in bewilderment, and he stared back at you, as though equally surprised by his actions.

Both of your eyes flicked to your hands, and then back to each other, before Wonwoo looked away first, his cheeks completely flushed. “Careful.” He muttered, gently taking the mug out of your hand. “It’s hot. You’ll burn yourself if you drink it.”

“Oh.” Was all you could say. He still wasn’t meeting your eyes and you could feel the urge to cry slowly ebbing away. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself down, you said, “Uhm, I’m sorry. The question must have thrown you-”

“I would love to go out with you.”

This time, you froze, blinking at Wonwoo, who was finally looking at you, trying to process what he had just said.

“What?” You asked, and he flushed even more, looking away once again. But this time, he turned to face you almost immediately, a look of determination on his face. “Yeah. I’ll go out with you.”

You felt the tears sting your eyes once again but Wonwoo was faster this time. He practically jumped out of his seat and dragged his chair right next to yours, gently grasping both of your hands in his. 

“Don’t cry, Y/N. It really hurts me when you cry. Especially if it’s because of me.” He whispered softly, causing you to break down more instead.

“I’m not- I’m actually- Oh my god.” Was all you could say before he pulled you into a hug, his strong arms wrapping around your waist as you almost melted into his touch. You buried your face into the crook of his neck and tried to control your sniffling, clutching his sweater with both of your hands as though he might disappear if you let go.

“I won’t let you go.” He whispered, gently rubbing circles on your back. “I promise.” 

14.03.3019

“I really like autumn, you know.” Wonwoo muttered and you looked up, feeling your breath being taken away for the millionth time that day. The cold wind blowing had ruffled his hair slightly but he looked really cute as he stared at the orange foliage overhead, with a small smile on his face. 

“Is that so?” You asked, and he turned back to look at you, giving you a small nod. Smirking at him, you asked again, “Why? Is it because it’s cold and you can have an excuse to stay inside and play games the whole day?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners as his smile widened, chuckling lightly at your joke. “Maybe?” 

You rolled your eyes at him before giving him a light push. “You could have answered it with something more productive like finishing your assignments, you know.”

“Yeah, or like texting you.”

The statement caught you so off guard that you nearly tripped on your own feet, and to make the situation worse, Wonwoo grabbed your arm to stop you from stumbling. 

“Hey, be careful.” He said, slight concern lacing his voice. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You muttered, unable to meet his eyes as you cursed yourself for being clumsy enough to trip on your own feet. You could feel your cheeks burning from his gaze and you wondered for a second why you were still so awkward and shy around him, despite being friends with him for almost three months.

If you could call your relationship with him as friends, that is.

You had hoped that your crush on him would go away after hanging out with him for a while (he had to have a flaw in him, right?) but if anything it grew more and more with passing time. Wonwoo made it worse by his completely sweet demeanour and mannerism towards you, reducing you to shambles each and every time. No matter how much you tried to compress the fluttering of your heart or the flushing of your cheeks, Wonwoo had to ruin everything by doing something that completely floored you always.

And that was the worst part of it. You had never thought you would like someone as quiet as him, always having liked outgoing guys with good humour. But there was something about Wonwoo’s introvertedness that was really comforting to you. It wasn’t like he always sat silent when next to you, it was just that he knew exactly what to say and when. He was a great listener and always listened to you with such rapt attention that sometimes it even surprised you.

It made you feel…important. Wanted. Loved.

Though most of the time it was you who had to initiate the conversation, you didn’t mind because Wonwoo would always continue with it, never leaving you hanging or ignoring it. 

“Hey.” You heard Wonwoo call you softly, and you finally looked up at him. He took a step close so that your shoulders were brushing, feeling his body warmth seep into you through your touching arms. You felt an urge to throw yourself into his arms but you pushed that thought to the back of your mind. “Are you actually okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” 

“Don’t say that.” Wonwoo was frowning at you, and you panicked, wondering if you had said the wrong thing. “How can I not worry about you? You’re so clumsy. Seriously, what would you do without me?”

Gulping slowly to calm down your racing heart, you felt your cheeks automatically pull into a smile. “Fall onto my face and embarrass myself?”

Wonwoo snorted at your sentence, wrapping an arm around your waist as he began walking again. “Not a chance under my watch. You aren’t Mingyu.”

“Poor Gyu.” You whispered, looking down so he wouldn’t see how much your eyes were gleaming. 

“Poor me, you mean. I’ve given up trying to save his ass every time he trips.”

You laughed as he went on complaining about his best friend, and all the embarrassment that you had been feeling from before was gone as you relaxed into his touch. You loved being with Wonwoo. You really loved spending time with him. Even though there were still traces of awkwardness between the two of you (from your side more than his), you hoped that one day all of that would be gone and he would see you the same way you looked at him.

And then one day, you would finally ask him out. One day. 

05.12.2018

The second time you met Wonwoo, or rather were with Wonwoo, was during a break period, when all your classmates had left the classroom for various purposes but you had decided to stay back and study. 

At first, you didn’t realise he was there too because you thought everyone had left. When you turned back to pull out a notebook from your bag, both of your eyes met from across the classroom and you found yourself immediately turning away, wincing a second later at your action.

Slowly, you turned back and to your relief, he was still looking at you. Trying to not look as flustered as you felt, you gave him a small wave, the quiet whisper of a ‘hi’ almost dying in your throat. 

Wonwoo smiled back at you and waved back, before getting up and walking towards your table.

Oh no. Oh no. Act normal. Act normal.

“Hey.” He said, his deep voice causing your stomach to drop a little. “Uh, did you do the maths homework? The one he gave in the last class?”

“Uhm, maths? You mean, uh, this one?” You asked, pointing at the half done sum in front of you. Crap, what if he wants my help? Why didn’t I do this before at home? Why didn't I think of studying this part beforehand?

“Oh, even you didn’t get it?” He asked, sitting himself down beside you. You could get a hint of his cologne and you swallowed hard, hoping your cheeks weren’t as flushed as you thought it was. “Do you want to solve it together? I think we can get it if we try together.”

“Yeah sure!” You said, a bit too enthusiastically. “I mean, yeah, of course. Let’s do it together.”

The two of you then began to work on the problem, but to your disappointment, you both barely talked. You were able to solve the problem on your own within the second try, and so was Wonwoo because so far the only other thing he had said was “You got it? So did I.”

The classroom once again lapped into silence and you could feel your nerves becoming jittery, because you wanted to say something to him, wanted to strike a conversation with him but you just couldn’t. What if what you said sounded so dumb that he decided not to talk to you ever again? 

Also Wonwoo looked like he had no problem with the quiet atmosphere, though you were feeling more and more awkward with each passing second, once again hyper aware of your actions as you sat next to him.

“So, uh,” You began after clearing your throat, so that you wouldn’t startle him. “Do you have any hobbies?” 

Wonwoo looked up at you from his notebook, blinking at you as though trying to process your question a bit. How does one look this cute just by blinking?

“Yeah, I like gaming.” He said, smiling at you. If he kept smiling at you like that any longer, you were sure you would have difficulty meeting his eyes next. 

“Gaming? That’s cool.” You said with a bigger smile. Internally though, you were screaming. You had next to no idea about gaming, what games were played on laptops or even the types of games out there. So you said the most intelligent (and probably the stupidest) thing you could come up with. “I play mobile games. Sometimes.”

At this, Wonwoo chuckled, a deep sound that was enough to cause your heart to flutter. “Mobile games? That’s cute.”

“Uh, thank you.” You muttered, averting your eyes back to your notebook. “What- What about you? What games do you play?”

“I play a lot of games to be honest. I’ve played Visage, Genshin Impact, League of Legends…yeah I’ve played a lot to be honest.” He said, going back to solving his problems too. 

“Oh, I see…” You said, not even sure what these games were about but you still pretended that you had at least some idea about what he was saying. 

Once again the two of you relapsed into silence, and you were finding it difficult to begin any conversation. It wasn’t that Wonwoo was making things difficult. You had noticed that he was a fairly quiet guy so you supposed he had no problem with this and was in fact comfortable with the silence between the two of you.

Letting out a sigh, you reached out for your water bottle, wanting to calm yourself down from the way Wonwoo was making you feel. 

You must have inhaled while you were drinking because all of a sudden you felt water hit your windpipe, blocking your air passage immediately. You made a choking sound as you spluttered, trying to cough out the water from your windpipe. 

“Y/N!” You heard Wonwoo call your name but it sounded so far away. Your mind was in a state of frenzy as you realised that you couldn’t breathe, you just couldn’t breathe and the water wasn’t coming out-

“Cough it out.” You felt an arm wrap around your front as Wonwoo thumped your back hard, making you cough harder. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Just cough it out.”

You coughed once more and took in a shuddering breath, causing you to cough again as your senses finally returned to you slowly. You were shivering, and your chest hurt as small coughs kept bubbling up in an attempt to regain your normal breath. 

“It’s okay. Just breathe slowly. I’ve got you. Breath, okay?” Wonwoo muttered, rubbing soft circles on your back. Still shivering in his arms, you looked up to see his face. His face was just inches apart and even through your teary eyes, you could see how handsome he was.

Then, you realised with horror how pathetic you must be looking. Your eyes were brimming with tears and you could feel the saliva all over your chin. And to make matters worse, you could feel that your nose had begun to run too. 

“Uh,” you started, slowly pushing yourself away from Wonwoo’s grasp as you hastily searched for a tissue or napkin. 

“Wait here.” Wonwoo said, before running back to his bench and then coming back to you, offering you some tissues he had got. “Here.”

“Thank you.” You muttered, feeling embarrassed as you slowly wiped away the spit on your face. “Thank you for…helping me.”

“Are you feeling okay?” Wonwoo asked, walking over to stand in front of you. You looked down at your lap and nodded, unable to look at him anymore. Of all the times you had to choke on your drink, it had to be in front of him.

“Hey, look at me.” You heard him whisper. You looked up just as he leaned down so that he was at your level now. You felt your breath catch in your throat as he looked at you, an expression of concern on his face. 

“Are you actually feeling okay? Because you are still shivering.” Looking down, you saw your hands clenching the tissue tightly. True to his words, you were still shivering and you took in a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself down.

“I’m okay. I’ll be okay. I just- I was just caught off guard that’s all.” 

Wonwoo glanced at the clock on the classroom wall before reaching down and picking up your bag. You looked up at him in surprise as he walked over to get his bag, and then stood in front of the class door. 

“What are you- Where are you going?” You asked, standing up. 

Wonwoo looked at you in surprise. “Don’t you want to have lunch? It’s lunch time.”

“Yeah…but my bag? You don’t have to-”

“I don’t.” He said, smiling at you. “I want to.”

You felt your heart explode as you fought back the urge to smile, almost jumping from your bench to catch up with him. Maybe, maybe accidentally choking on your drink wasn’t a bad thing after all.

01.10.2018

“Are we still in the same seminar hall?” You asked, peeping into your friend’s (if she could be called that considering the fact you met her only an hour ago) phone as she searched the timetable up. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess. I think we should just walk in and see to be honest. If not, we can ask around.” Yubin said, closing her phone and slipping it into her jeans pocket, before taking a deep breath and pushing open the seminar hall doors. 

The hall was almost crowded and you were glad that you were behind Yubin, so all you had to do was follow her as she tried finding two empty seats. 

Finally, you both sat down on the three empty seats at the end of the third row, glad that you got decent enough seats, if not good, because of how late you both were (it had to be your unfortunate luck that the seminar hall was at one end of the campus and the canteen was at another end). Removing your bag, you lifted it to place it on the empty seat next to you because you were sure no one would take a single empty seat when you heard someone ask, “Is this seat taken?”

You looked up to see who it was and immediately felt the air almost knock out of your lungs. Your cheeks heated up as you blinked at the student standing in front of you, all coherent words thrown out of your head because he was just so, so handsome. 

He looked so good with his square framed glasses, unbuttoned chequered shirt over a casual t-shirt and dark blue jeans. In fact, he looked like any other of the countless averagely dressed college students you had seen on campus so far and yet, he looked so attractive that you were having a hard time formulating a simple sentence. 

“Uh,” You began, staring at him as you tried to rack your brains for an appropriate response. What was the question?

“Nope!” Yubin said, reaching out to grab your bag and place it on your lap. “No one’s sitting here so you can sit if you want to!”

He gave you (the two of you actually but you hoped it was just you) a small smile before sitting down and you slowly turned towards your now grinning friend, frowning slightly as you just tried to process what had just happened.

He was sitting next to you. He was sitting next to you. The guy, who caught your eyes within a few milliseconds of your encounter was actually sitting next to you. 

‘You think he is cute?’ Yubin mouthed to you, to which you could only exhale and look back at the presentation that was about to start in front of you, unable to think clearly still. 

Cute was an understatement for the guy next to you. He was handsome. Ethereal. Beautiful. Someone who made your heart stutter just by looking at them and made you hyper aware of your each and every action, just like now as you carefully slid out your notebook from your bag.

Your cheeks felt like they were still on fire, and you tried to act nonchalant as you cleared your throat and flipped through the pages, trying to find an empty page when your pen fell from your hand.

Brilliant.

Just brilliant. You mentally cursed yourself as you bit your lips. bending down to pick it up but he was much faster than you, the pen already in his hand as he offered it to you. 

“Uh, thank you.” You mumbled, trying to give him a small smile but of course your flushed cheeks had to act up at this moment itself and you were pretty sure you ended up giving him a lopsided one instead.

He just nodded back at you, before turning his attention back to the presentation and so did you, but it was like you could still feel his gaze on you. 

The rest of the session passed in a blur, as you tried your level best to concentrate on what was being explained but it was just so hard doing that when each second seemed to drag on for hours and you were painfully aware of what he was doing and how embarrassing you were acting. 

Finally, after what felt like years, the students started getting up and leaving the auditorium. Your mind was in a whirlwind as he too started packing up his things. Now’s the time, Y/N. It’s now or never. Just ask him-

“I didn’t catch your name!” You squeaked just as he got up, causing him to pause and look at you confused. You immediately cringed at your voice, sinking into your seat a little before clearing your throat and repeating your sentence. “Your name? I didn’t catch it.”

“Oh.” He said, his face softening a little as he pushed his specs back up his nose. Okay, now that was hot. “It’s Wonwoo. Jeon Wonwoo. And you are?”

“Wonwoo…” You muttered, the name rolling off your tongue before you realised he had asked yours. “Oh! Uh, I’m Y/N. L/N Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you Y/N. I hope we can be friends.” Wonwoo smiled at you, almost causing you to forget your second question. 

“Yeah! Yeah, of course! Also, uh, can I have your number? Because, you know, uh-” You stuttered but luckily Wonwoo cut you off.

“Sure.” He said, extending out his hand. As quickly as you could (without dropping anything or appearing clumsy) you handed him your phone and he took it, typing out his number. Oh wow, he has really pretty hands. 

“Here.” He said, handing it over to you. “Give me a missed call okay? So that I can save your number too.”

“Yeah…yeah I will.” You said, giving him another smile. He gave you a small goodbye before walking away, and you continued staring at him until he split out of the door. Even then you were just standing, frozen at your place as you tried processing what had just happened, until Yubin gave you a nudge. 

“Are we going to go for lunch or are you gonna keep dreaming about lover boy?” She joked, causing you to snap out of your reverie. 

“What? He’s not- It’s nothing like that. He’s just cute.” You said defensively, picking up your bag as you followed her out. 

“He’s just cute.” Yubin said, mimicking you and you hissed at her. “Shut up! Someone might hear you!”

“Yeah, and you were definitely not drooling over him.”

“I was not drooling over him!” You gasped.

“Okay sure. Just the next time you both sit together, I’ll make sure I’m not next to you. Actually I’ll make sure no one is next to you both so that you can have your alone time together.”

“Yeah,” You muttered, as you saw Wonwoo walk in front of the two of you, laughing and talking with two other boys. You felt your heart give an odd squeeze when he turned back and your eyes met, smiling at you warmly. “I wonder if it will ever be just us, again.” 

A/N: Please do tell me what you think about this story!! I worked really hard on it and I would love to know everyone’s thoughts on it~ Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

© 𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐎𝐌 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

[hxney-lemcn]

Not so Long Distance — Idia Shroud x gn! reader

summery: with the seconds ticking down, everyone has a certain amount of time before they meet their soulmate, you just hope yours is your online crush.

tw: awkward encounters, reader isn't Yuu.

a/n: I'm in my Idia phase, help. Also, my first soulmate fic I'm proud of.

wc: 2.6k

Master List

The countdown on your wrist that had once been a beacon of hope and excitement slowly turned into one of doom. The idea of meeting your soulmate was terrifying yet exciting. Meeting someone that you fit perfectly with was mystifying, and the underlying fear of rejection scared you, but overall you would accept your soulmates wishes. But now? Something you never even thought of happened. 

You’re falling for someone you met online, but your timer is still ticking. 

With the internet still being new, and research into how it could affect the soulmate mark is still going on, you’re not sure if you should lose hope yet. For all you knew, the mark didn’t register when two people meet from separate distances…but you felt like you were coping with that explanation. You had met him online months ago, and every bad joke or insult towards a shitty player made you laugh, everytime he laughed at your bad jokes your stomach fluttered. It was embarrassing in a sense, you were falling for someone you hadn’t even seen yet. What if he was tricking you and he was some old man? But you doubted it, he sounded young and the way he talked was even outdoing modern slang. In fact, you even brought up this train of thought one day while you were on a call playing separate games. 

“Y’know, for all I know you’re some fifty year old guy,” You said in a joking tone, farming your crops in game.

“Hah?” Gloomuri, or Gloom as you’ve dubbed him, let out a noise of confusion. “Are you really that dumb?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean!” You huffed, accidentally hitting a plant that still needed to grow mature causing you a slight profit loss on your farm. “I just mean that I’ve never seen your face. Even though I know you, if I saw you on the street I’d never realize.”

The call fell silent for a few seconds, but to you it felt like minutes. You were propositioning something that felt like crossing a small boundary that was set. A video call. Something you were nervous about as well since that meant showing your own face. But IGloom had snuck his way into becoming one of your top, if not closest friend over the past few months. He’d drone on about some game drama you had almost no idea about, while he’d listen to your ‘normie’ drama (as he dubbed it) about school or friends. Although you’d say the best moments were when you’d both geek out over games or anime together, fighting on who the best character is and what your favorite part was. 

“Y-you wanna do a…video call?” Gloom hesitantly asked, you could hear the nerves in his tone which caused you to backtrack.

“We don’t have to if you don’t wanna, I’m not trying to pressure you,” You assured. “I’m just a bit curious. 

A few more seconds passed before he spoke up, voice even shakier than before, “Y-you’d show your f-face too…right?”

You fidgeted with your computer mouse, his nerves starting to get to you, “It’s only fair I suppose…” When you clicked on the call, unsure where this was going, you were surprised to see his camera on, but covered. “Wait, you mean right now?” You asked. 

“D-did you not mean right now?” He replied back, his voice an octave higher. 

“I-I just don’t…I’m not the most presentable,” You muttered back, looking at your reflection in the black of your phone screen. You pushed some of your hair back into place, fixing the collar of your sweater. Oh gosh, you were going to finally see what your crush looks like! 

“I don’t either,” Gloom mumbled, continuing to mumble something under his breath that you couldn’t make out. “N-never mind, never doing this-”

“W-wait!” You called out, turning your camera on as soon as you were out of sight. “I’ll do it, just don’t judge me too hard, okay?” Another few seconds before he meekly replied a small ‘ok’. “On the count of three. One…two…three.” 

Just like that, your breath got taken away. On the other side of the camera was a pale guy with blue flaming hair and…wait a minute…didn’t someone exactly like him go to your campus? You blinked at him with wide eyes, snapping out of your daze when he shied away from your gaze.

“Do I know you?” You asked dumbly, snapping Gloom out of his own daze. It was his turn to blink at you before he tilted his head. 

If he moved his hand away from the bottom of his face you’d notice a sharp smirk overtake his handsome features, “I’d hope so, we’ve been talking for how long?”

“That’s not what I meant,” You huffed once more that night. “You look like a guy that goes to my campus.”

“Really?” Gloom asked, unbelievably skeptical. “‘Cus not many people have blue flaming hair.”

You rolled your eyes, glad that convo was back to your playful banter, “I’ve never actually seen him. Only heard about him once from my irl friends. And yes, he was described as having fiery hair.”

“...Where do you go to school?” He asked, suddenly serious.

You gave him a skeptical look, “And why should I give you my current location? So you can stalk me?”

“I could find out in one click if I wanted,” He shrugged, amber eyes showing he was completely serious. 

“Thanks for not doxxing me I guess…” You grumbled, a bit put off. “I go to Night Raven College.” The silence was loud after that revolution before he broke it.

“I guess you do know me irl.”

That call had changed something in your friendship. The space between y’all had seemed to get smaller as you both grew more comfortable with one another, nearly having calls everyday. Now that you knew what eachother looked like, you’d have some video calls sprinkled in, and your raging crush seemed to only grow stronger. Now you had a pretty face to put to his lovely deep voice, and you wanted to strangle him for how attractive he was.

You now found yourself counting down the days till school started, and as you looked down at that damned timer on your wrist you found yourself hopeful again. You had fifteen days till school, and your soulmate timer was down to twenty days. You had been barely getting any sleep due to that, hoping that once you met Gloomuri, who you’ve come to know as Idia, the timer would hit zero. You both just clicked so well in a way you’ve never felt before, you just hoped he had the same numbers lining his own wrist. 

…

With how excited you were with meeting Idia, you found yourself getting quickly overwhelmed with school work. The professors didn’t hold back when it came to work, and contact between you and Idia had devolved from video calls into texts. It wasn’t until you woke up the first Saturday of the school year, looked down at your wrist and noticing the time had changed from days to hours. You nearly had a heart attack seeing it, all your anxiety mashing together at one moment. What if you just stayed in your dorm all day? But then that would mean your soulmate was someone in your dorm. But if you went out there was a high chance it wasn’t Idia. 

Before the dilemma could get to your head too much, your roommate asked if you wanted to tag along with them to Sam’s shop. Wanting to clear your mind a bit, you agreed, hoping to just ignore your problem instead of overthinking. You both ended up talking about classes, what you predicted you’d struggle in and do okay, who was in your classes and such. 

You had to hold yourself back from buying something, though you do have to give Sam props for having almost everything you could think of. All was good once more…until someone with a head of fiery blue hair walked in. It wasn’t Idia though, no, but someone who looked eerily similar if not quite a bit younger. Your friend noticed your attention left them, falling onto the young technomatic humanoid and decided to speak up.

“Hey Ortho,” They greeted him with a smile. “How’s it going?”

“Hello!” He replied back quickly, “My morning is going well. How about you?”

“It’s been good,” They smiled. “This is my friend.” They introduced you, saying your name. To your surprise Ortho lit up, seemingly recognizing your name. 

“Really?” He asked. You hummed while nodding in agreement, heart skipping a beat. Peaking at your wrist you noticed the time was cut down to minutes. Was this it? Was Idia actually your soulmate? Your hope was reignited tenfold.

“My brother talks about you all the time!” Ortho exclaimed excitedly.

“Wait, you know Idia?” Your friend asks, astonished. “The shut-in who uses a tablet to attend class?”

“M-maybe,” You murmured bashfully, crossing your arms as a nervous habit.

“Are you free after this?” Ortho asked, nearly jumping up and down.

“Yeah,” Your friend spoke up before you could. “We just finished actually.”

“That’s great!” Ortho exclaimed, his eyes shining. You were sure if he didn’t have the bottom half of his face covered he’d be smiling widely. “You should come over to Ignihyde, I’m sure Idia would love it if you came to visit.”

“Okay.” 

It was out before you knew it, and like a whirlwind, you were suddenly swept to the front door of Idia’s dorm room, his little brother by your side. Before you could lift your hand up to knock, the door automatically slid open after Ortho’s face was scanned. You knew Ignihyde was known for its technical prowess…but this seemed like overkill. You stood outside awkwardly, unsure if you were allowed to step in yet, but you weren’t left to flounder for long as Ortho pulled you in by your hand. You glanced once more at your wrist and you nearly burst into tears. Only a few seconds left. A few seconds left until Idia was your confirmed soulmate and you suddenly didn’t feel as excited. Fear grasped your heart, unsure if he would be willing to be tied to you for the rest of your lives. You didn’t have much time to think of every terrible scenario as you faced the guy you had been fawning over. 

As Idia turned to greet Ortho (and grab some snacks), he found himself having a heart attack when he saw your face. He knew you both went to the same school, but he wasn’t prepared to see you face to face…not irl at least. He barely comprehended Ortho’s rambling, too busy trying to hide his visage from your sight. He wasn’t prepared for someone to visit, not to mention you. Everywhere he looked he saw a different mess that would surely disappoint you, dirty clothes that scattered the floor, empty ramen cups that lined his desk, and empty cans of energy drinks that filled his trash can…yeah not the best first impression. 

You, on the other hand, anxiously straighten your shirt while trying to not seem like you cared about your appearance too much. You were the first one to speak up after Ortho took his leave (seemingly ignorant of the tense atmosphere). 

“Hey,” You greeted, an awkward smile on your lips. Instead of replying, Idia merely gave a weak whimper as he pulled his hood as far as it would go over his head. “I-I’m sorry, Ortho invited me, and I have been wanting to meet you in person, I hope I’m not overstepping too much…” Then, he let out a sudden shriek, causing you to nearly fall over from how loud it was.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, scared he might’ve hurt himself somehow. 

“Th-the…y-your…I’m in a dream, this has to be. There’s no way this is real,” He muttered, holding his face in some sort of desperation. 

“Not a bad dream I hope…” You chuckled awkwardly, not sure what was going on. Not the cute meeting with your soulmate like you wished, you just hoped this wasn’t him violently rejecting you. Instead of replying, he let out another whimper, and you felt like you’re intruding in something you shouldn’t be. Your awkwardness meter being at its max, you decided you should take your exit and hope he calms down soon so you both can talk the situation out. 

“I’ll just…it was nice seeing you,” You stumbled over your words a bit. “I’ll let you uh…I’ll leave you to it…”

“W-wait!” Idia jolts up, eyes erratic. “You…w-we’re…” “Soulmates?” You supplemented. 

“Y-yeah…how are you so calm about it?”

“Would…would it be weird if I said I was hoping for you to be my soulmate?” You asked in a whisper, eyes darting around his room instead of meeting his own. Not like he’d be able to make eye contact with you either. 

Idia let out a squeak at your reply, his heart beating erratically. He found you too good to be true. You both liked similar games and anime, and when you didn’t play the same game you’d both play your own game while being on call. He found himself looking forward to your calls, something he would have never thought possible (he avoids calls like the plague). He found himself looking forward to something for once, finding solace in something that wasn’t fictional for once, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about that. It was scary, but manageable when you were just pixels like everything else he loved (Ortho wasn’t technically pixels, but he wasn’t human (anymore) either). But now you were face to face in person, and you were so much more attractive when he could see you fully, and gosh he’s not sure how much more he could handle this. Especially not with such bold remarks like that. 

Idia never really cared about soulmates. If anything, he loathed the ink that marked his skin. Wished for the digits to just go away. His entire life was a curse, so cursed that he was forced to drag someone down with him. He didn’t deserve it, and no one else deserved his fate. And now, seeing you, a person outside of his family that he managed to grow close to…he felt conflicted. He too was happy you were his soulmate. You were so sweet, but not overly so. Not afraid to snap back at him with your quick wit. His heart would skip a beat when he heard the smile in your voice, or when you’d laugh at his lame joke. He would dream of a future with you when he closed his eyes, allowing him to envision a life with you and Ortho, living happily somewhere like normal people would. He was also guilty, you didn’t deserve a secluded life away from others.

“Yes,” He ended up answering. “That’s like…super weird.”

“Oh,” You felt disheartened. This was totally a rejection. 

“You shouldn’t like me,” Idia continued. “Someone like me doesn’t get that ending…”

“Hmm,” You hummed, an idea forming in your mind. Perhaps you just needed to speak his language. “I guess you got the secret good ending then.”

“B-but-”

“No buts,” You tutted. “Now, last time we talked you mentioned that game, why don’t we play it?”

It’ll take a lot of time for Idia to fully warm up to the idea of having a soulmate, truly. Not just some numbers, but an actual person who smiled at him so warmly, like he was worth something. It’ll take even more time for him to warm up to you, your love, your affection…but he found something small burning within him. Like a small spark being lit deep in his heart…hope. Hope for the future, something he’s never felt before.

[pedropascallme]

☆Kinktober 2024☆

Day 12: Mutual masturbation

Pairing: Damien Haas x f!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI!!!!) mutual masturbation, mild dom/sub dynamics (softdom!Damien is BACK baby!!) dirty talk, little bit of cum play, if I missed anything please let me know!

AN: I actually wrote another mutual masturbation fic with Damien a few months ago, so if that's your thing, you can find it here :D

He wasn’t ignoring you—not purposefully.

Damien had tucked away in a corner of the house, glued to the screen of the desktop computer.

You approached quietly, watching the muscle in his wrist just barely flex when he clicked the mouse.

For as long as you’d been together—and prior to that, as long as you’d been friends—you knew Damien was the type to get hung up on small details. He’d focus until he was burnt out; he’d try to deal with everything in one go and become deeply frustrated when that backfired on him.

He was detail oriented, almost painstakingly so.

At least right now he was hyper-focused on something harmless, something that brought him real joy.

Still, it was going on midnight, and you wanted him in bed with you—for the more selfish purposes, yes, but also because he’d be mad at himself if he stayed up too late, which would morph into a deep-seated grumpiness that would, in turn, make him feel guilty.

“Do you plan on coming to bed on your own tonight?” You draped an arm loosely over his shoulder, leaning over him, “Or am I going to have to drag you there myself?”

Damien leaned his head back against you, eyes glued to the computer screen. It was Elder Scrolls, you knew that much, but which version, you couldn’t tell.

“I’m playing,” he was smiling, that toothy, lopsided grin that he wore, an expression of unbridled joy and genuine amusement.

Your favorite version of him.

“It’s late, Dames…” You bent down and pressed your face into his neck, brushing your lips to his skin.

He let out a contented sigh. “Late to you. To a vampire—very early.”

You removed yourself from his neck, taking the two steps forward that let you position yourself in front of him, leaning the back of your thighs on his desk.

“Game will still be there in the morning…” You reached out to brush your knuckles over his cheek.

He turned his head slightly, ghosting a kiss over your hand. “But I’m…I dunno…” He huffed, still smiling, but his brow creased slightly. “It’s been such a busy week and I want to unwind. And even though it’s late and I’m exhausted, I’m not…tired.” He explained, pulling your hand from his face and lacing his fingers with yours.

You lifted yourself onto the desk, careful not to push anything off the surface.

“Well…I can think of plenty of ways to tire you out…” You purred, and though you meant it as a tease, you were only half joking.

Damien leaned back against the chair he was in, letting your hand go in favor of reaching out to hold your leg.

“Go on.” He smirked, rolling his shoulders.

“I mean, I could—” You tried to rattle off a list of the first depraved things that came to mind, but he cut you off, squeezing your thigh.

“Don’t tell me,” his smirk contorting into a wolfish grin, “Show me.”

You bit lazily at your bottom lip.

“Right here?” There was a ghost of a smile on your face, the merriment you felt momentarily winning out over the lust that had begun to swell within you.

“It’s what you’re thinking about right now, isn’t it?” Damien removed his grip from your leg, bringing his hands behind his head. He spread his thighs and quirked a brow. “Go ahead, princess.”

You stared down at him from your perch on the desk, sucking the inside of your cheeks for a moment as you considered his challenge.

You gave in immediately.

“Fine,” You put your hands on your thighs, leaning forward for emphasis. “I will.”

Leisurely, your fingers danced under the hem of your sleep shirt, tugging at the fabric. You lifted it over your head slowly, revealing your bare chest to him, your nipples pebbling from exposure to the air of the room.

You tossed your shirt in Damien’s lap, and he grabbed it with both hands, white knuckling the fabric, his gaze piercing. He let out a sigh, a soft growl, urging you to continue.

You put your hands on your neck, trailing your palms down over the swell of your breasts and over your stomach, fingertips grazing the waistband of your shorts. You brought them back up to your chest, kneading the supple flesh, pinching your nipples. The feeling sent shivers down your spine, and you subconsciously arched into your own touch.

“I would’ve gotten you to make a lot more noise by now.” Damien’s voice was smug, but his jaw was tight.

Defying his words as best you could, you caught his eyes, letting out a breathy moan while you rolled your nipple between your thumb and forefinger.

Damien took a deep breath, as if to collect himself. His head tilted back slightly, but he found your gaze again and matched it.

“Feels better when I do it, doesn’t it?” He asked, and you squeaked.

“You said I should show you what I want,” you mumbled, dropping your head to watch your hands massage your breasts. “That’s what I’m doing, Damien.”

“And this is what you want, princess?” He smiled, “You want me to tire myself out by playing with your tits?” He let go of your shirt, tossing it to the floor, and shifting in his seat.

The way he said it, gravelly and pleased, made you swallow down a whimper.

But the way he’d moved the obstruction of your shirt from his lap and spread his legs wider to reveal the obvious tent in his sweatpants made your lips part to allow the sound out.

“I have other ideas, if this doesn’t do it for you…” You mewled, still palming your chest.

He didn’t grace you with a verbal response, offering a simple nod, darkened eyes goading you.

You let your hands fall down your body, shimmying out of your shorts and exposing yourself to him. You spread your legs, shifting your weight on the desk in a teasing display.

“Fuck,” Damien’s voice was strained; still domineering but having more trouble holding it together now. “Were you—were you this wet when you came in here, or is that just…?” He shifted his jaw, grinding his teeth and letting his sentence trail off.

You were spurred on by his lapse in dominance, enjoying the fact that you could get him so distracted and wound up by simply flashing your bare cunt to him.

You dragged your hand over your stomach, stopping when your fingers brushed over your clit. You let out a needy sound. Wound up so tightly after groping yourself and listening to him speak over your movements, you were convinced you could cum just like this.

Your fingers spread you apart, fully exposing your glistening hole, and Damien groaned as you circled yourself with your fingers.

“Come on,” his lips parted as he stared, the rise and fall of his chest becoming more pronounced. “Show me.”

Maintaining eye contact with him, you dipped an albeit shaky finger into your sex, down to the knuckle. Your breath caught in your throat, eyes closing briefly as you finally gave your body what it had been craving.

You rocked your hips, slowly thrusting the digit in and out of yourself.

“There you go…” Damien smiled up at you wickedly, “Look at you, princess, so self-sufficient. Is this you trying to tell me that you only want one of my fingers?”

You shook your head, moaning, and pushed another finger inside yourself.

With a groan, Damien gave in to his own urges completely, and you watched him hook a thumb under the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down enough to release his cock. It bounced against him, tip wet with precum, and you whimpered.

He licked his palm, bringing his hand down to smear the precum and his spit down his length and subconsciously matching the rhythm of your fingers as you pumped them in and out.

“This is what you were thinking about, isn’t it?” The question was entirely rhetorical—he knew what you were thinking, knew you were as desperate to get fucked as he was to fuck you.

You offered a weak nod, the pressure of your release building slowly but surely somewhere deep behind your stomach.

You brought one of your legs up, pressing your foot against the surface of the desk to switch the angle to one that would get you there faster.

Damien groaned, sliding his hand over his cock, using the image of you spread out and fucking yourself on his desk to chase his own release.

“Good, princess,” he spoke through clenched teeth, the muscle in his jaw twitching, “Say it. Say that you’re thinking about getting fucked.”

Your breath was stuttered, fingers curling into the tender spot inside you.

“I—yeah, I’m thinking about—about getting fucked…” You managed to squeak out, heavily lidded eyes tracking the movement of his hand over his cock.

“Yeah—yeah, by who?” He coaxed you, twisting his wrist. He watched you drip over your fingers, coating yourself in your own juices, and it was an exercise in self-control for him to not lean forward and press his face into your cunt; lap you up and lick you clean.

“You, Damien,” your eyes closed, your jaw dropped, and you felt the familiar buzz take over your body. “You.”

“Fuck, that’s right,” he keened at your words, brow furrowed as he watched you near your high. “You can do it, baby, you’re so close—fuck your hand, let me see you make yourself cum.”

You were in exactly the right spot, and upon hearing his words, you felt a swell of pleasure; something pushing down on your body in all the right ways, contorting you and satisfying you as your walls clenched and your back arched.

You moaned, letting out unsteady breaths to match your trembling thighs. You continued to press your fingers into yourself, mimicking as best you could the way he always prolonged your pleasure until it became overwhelming, brushing your delicate spots and making you cry out.

“Oh, fuck—” Damien moaned at the sight, the shiver that overtook your body and made you cry out for him. He fucked his fist faster at the thought of how you’d look beneath him, crying that way and begging for more of him. “You’re so fucking pretty, baby, you’re so—you’re so perfect. Fuck, I’m gonna cum…” He jerked himself quickly, spilling over his hand with a low moan.

He panted, all but going limp in his seat as his head fell back, a parallel to the way you had slumped against the wall behind you, taking heaving breaths after you’d finally removed your fingers from your cunt.

He picked his head up, admiring you with a soft smile.

“What?” You scoffed, smiling back at him.

“I’m still not tired.” He smirked at you.

Moving off the desk in a manner most ungraceful, you took his playfulness as permission to drape yourself over his lap, sagging against him and grabbing his wrist.

“That’s a shame…” You brought his hand to your mouth, sucking on his fingers and savoring the bitter spend that had dripped over him. “Gonna just sit here and play games you’ve already played all night?” You quirked a brow, swirling your tongue over his middle finger before dropping his hand.

“Oh,” he smiled, wrapping his arms around you, “I’m gonna play, just…probably not out here and definitely not on this computer.”

He stood, lifting you, and you laughed.

“Monitor is still on.” You nuzzled against him, and he tilted his face down at you.

“Baby, I love your mindfulness, but I could not care less about what’s happening on that screen right now.”

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | close as strangers (post chb)

a/n: okayyyy so i didn't give them an angst ending but i had to give into the angst monster at least once for this series so here's a bonus chapter for poisoned mercury. miscommunication galore. long distance is hard! two dumbasses in love!

song: close as strangers by 5sos

series masterlist | previous | next

"i'll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?" luke whispered, trying not to wake his bandmates up. the tour bus was large enough to house them while they were on the road, but it didn't really give the privacy he hoped for. chris was just across the narrow walkway from him and luke could hear his soft snores through the thin curtain that separated them. 

luke felt his heart hammering in his chest when you didn't reply to him. he could still hear your breaths through the phone and you were just talking to him a second ago, so he knew you were still awake. you both had equally busy lives which meant that your phone calls were getting shorter and shorter each day. luke knew it was because you were booked with school and tournaments for field hockey and he was always exhausted after each meeting now that the band was working on their second album. luke knew all of this, but it didn't stop him from missing you. he was lucky to get a ten-minute call with you nowadays. 

"baby?" he tried again, chewing on his bottom lip. he turned to face the ceiling of his bunk, the light from his phone casting a shadow on his face as he waited for you to say something. anything. "can i call you tomorrow?" 

you sighed, "i don't know, luke. i have a busy day. it's a travel game tomorrow so i don't know if i'll be up late." 

"oh," he cleared his throat, trying to hide his disappointment. he felt a little stupid that there were tears pooling in his eyes. so you can't talk tomorrow, it shouldn't be a big deal, right? except that luke felt like you were pulling away from him. little by little. and he didn't know how to stop it. it wasn't like he could drop everything to show up at your doorstep and fix things with you. if it was up to him, he would do it in a heartbeat, but you'd probably get mad at him for it, for abandoning his responsibilities as the lead singer of the most popular band in the world. not to mention the boys would be livid and mr. d and his mom would be equally furious. 

"sorry, maybe next week?" 

"yeah, sure," he replied, thankful that you weren't on facetime tonight. he didn't want you to see his face. "alright, i'll let you get some rest. go kill it tomorrow. g'night, five star." 

"goodnight," you said, ending the call as soon as the last syllable left your lips. 

luke groaned quietly, tossing his phone on the foot of his bed. he knew long distance was going to be difficult. it's been months since he last saw you, months since he was at camp half blood, sleeping in your bed and waking up to the feeling of your lips peppering kisses on his face. maybe he shouldn't have gotten so attached so fast, but it wasn't like he had a choice in the matter. 

he got out from his bunk, tucking his feet into his slippers and made his way to the living room area of the bus. he sat on the couch, peering out the window to watch the empty roads ahead. they were on their way to nashville to meet with a producer that mr. d recommended. the second album was almost done, but it was missing something and none of them wanted to put out a record that didn't meet their expectations. 

mr. d was already in tennessee waiting for them. he'd flown in from houston a few days ago with luke's mom and the rest of the poisoned mercury team while the boys were in atlanta for a movie premiere. they decided that a road trip was needed to de-stress after the glitz and buzz of the red carpet. it was nice to have some alone time with the boys. in their tour bus, luke felt like they were back in connecticut, just four friends fucking around, writing music, and eating junk food until their stomachs hurt. 

he turned on the tv, switching to some random channel that he wasn't paying attention to. he just needed some noise to drown out his thoughts, but that didn't seem to work. all he could think of was you, his five star, and how much he missed you. luke wondered if you were having second thoughts about this whole thing. maybe he'd been too optimistic about things; maybe you weren't on the same page as he was; maybe you realized that it was too difficult to be with him. 

a shiver ran down his spine as he spiraled into his thoughts. admitting to himself that something was wrong between the two of you left a bitter taste in his mouth because he didn't want to believe it. he saw you as his endgame, like nobody else in the world could compare to you, and to think that you may not feel the same about him... well, it was a difficult pill to swallow.

he wondered if he came on too strong, showed his cards too early, and seemed too clingy and lovestruck before it was deemed appropriate. you'd only been together, officially at least, for four months, most of which were long distance, but luke knew he was a goner for you way before that. 

he silently cursed as the chill of the december air hit his skin. he should've worn a hoodie. he grabbed the small throw blanket draped over the armchair and placed it around his shoulders. he wished he got to see you over thanksgiving break because maybe you two wouldn't be in this rocky situation right now, but your coach ordered you and clarisse to stay on campus over break to sharpen your skills since you missed summer training. luke and chris were less than pleased with the idea, but they knew it was out of their control. 

luke fell asleep on the couch that night after succumbing to the tiredness in his body. the sun was beginning to rise by the time his eyelids fluttered shut. he hoped that he'd wake up to a text from you, but when he woke up to the sound of the bus screeching to a halt in nashville, he realized it was the hope that kills. 

-

“are you guys going to the fall concert?” silena asked, poking her head out of the bathroom. she was part of the planning committee for the unc fall semester concert and she’d been stressing over the logistics of it for weeks. 

“lena, if we even tried to miss it, you’d kill us,” clarisse chuckled, putting on a coat of mascara. “you’ve been talking about this since we got back.” 

the three of you were getting ready in your dorm. you and clarisse were roommates this year, thank gods for athlete privileges, and silena lived in the building next door in a single since she was an ra. how she had the time to be an ra, be a member of the music festival planning committee, and be a full-time student was truly beyond your comprehension. 

“lena, calm down. it’ll be good,” you squeezed her shoulders as you passed by behind her, grabbing your lipgloss from the counter. “and even if it sucks, half the people in the crowd are either drunk or high or both and will probably not remember it.” 

“true,” she snorted, curling the final piece of her hair. she unplugged her hair curler and gave herself one last look in the mirror, “i’ll see you guys there? i gotta go make sure shit didn’t hit the fan.” 

you and clarisse nodded as silena said her goodbyes. you dabbed on some lipgloss, glancing down at your phone every few seconds. clarisse side-eyed you, unable to hide her smile, “you waitin’ for a text?” 

“shut up,” you rolled your eyes at her teasing tone. she didn't really know that your relationship was a little muddy at the moment. you weren’t the best at talking about your feelings and it felt wrong to talk about your relationship drama when clarisse and chris seemed to be going strong. “they’re supposed to land in los angeles ten minutes ago.” 

“their flight probably got delayed, y/n,” she replied, “happens all the time.” 

“no, i know, but just wanna make sure they’re safe, y’know?” 

clarisse crossed her arms over her chest, “they’re safe or he’s safe?” 

you ignored her question, opting to busy yourself with the weather app on your phone to avoid any follow-up questions, “how are you not checking your phone for a text from chris right now?” 

she shrugged, “he always knocks out on long flights so i don’t expect a text until he gets to their hotel.” 

“how are you and chris, by the way? i know we live together and shit, but i feel like we haven’t gotten to talk about it in detail since we’re always so tired from school and practice.” 

“we’re good,” clarisse hummed, “just miss him loads, though. i haven’t seen him since we left camp– what? four, almost five, months ago?” 

you were in the same boat, kind of. you and luke hadn’t seen each other in months and you were getting antsy. they’d been on the road for the past few months, meeting with producers and fulfilling their contractual obligations. they hadn’t been in a set location long enough for you to be able to fly out to see luke, even just for a weekend. 

at first, there were movie dates where you’d order each other food and eat and watch the movie on facetime together. there were weekly phone calls and daily texts, but nothing compares to the real thing. being with luke in person was something that you were craving. camp half blood spoiled you with having him all for yourself and now that you were back in school and he’s out in the world, it was beginning to weigh on you. 

you missed him. a lot. 

you missed kissing him and feeling his lips break out into a smile when you’d mumble something stupid. you missed feeling his arms around you, hugging you from behind while you got ready for the day. you even missed waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of him scribbling random lyrics on pieces of scrap paper he found in your room when he slept over. 

long distance is hard and sure, luke wouldn’t be the type to cheat or do anything to jeopardize your relationship, but it still didn’t stop a knot from forming in your stomach every time a picture of him or the band popped up on your social media with a gorgeous singer, actor, or model that they ran into on the red carpet. what if he realizes one day that he wants someone who lives the same life as him? wild and adventurous, not tied down by school or sports? 

a part of you felt silly for being so insecure about things. it was too early in the relationship to have this conversation, isn’t it? you knew that your avoidance of the topic was starting to affect your relationship with luke, as much as you wished it didn’t, but what if the minute you voice your concerns, he’ll realize that being with you was more than he bargained for? after all, you weren’t the same five star with all the time in her hands, care-free, and relaxed that he met at camp. there was a chance that luke would call it quits on this if you said anything and it felt like too big of a risk to take. 

your phone buzzed on the counter, indicating a text.

from: luke <3 

‘landed and jetlagged. gonna sleep for a few. enjoy the concert babe!’ 

you hearted the message and slipped your phone into your back pocket after sending him a quick goodnight text. the three dots popped up for a second, then in a blink, they disappeared. read at 8:43 pm. 

“you ready?” 

you snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of clarisse’s voice. you nodded and grabbed your small purse before heading out the door. you ran into a group of your teammates who were heading to the amphitheater across campus for the concert. the walk seemed to fly by as they cracked jokes and shared stories about random things. you stayed silent for the most part, only laughing along when it seemed like the right time, but your mind was somewhere else. your mind was in los angeles. 

by the time you got to the venue, you and clarisse separated from the group to enter the vip tent, courtesy of silena. a small crowd was beginning to form in front of the stage, taking up the grassy field. charlie was already at the tent, sipping on an ipa when he saw the two of you. his face broke out into a wide smile, giving you and clarisse a quick hug before leading you to the seats he saved. 

“season’s looking promising for you guys, charlie,” you commented, accepting the high noon he offered. “the team’s looking good out there.” 

“thanks,” he beamed, “don’t think we’re on the level of national champs just yet like you guys, but we’re trying!” 

“you guys are doing great,” clarisse chimed in, “the energy in the stadium is electric this year. makes me love college.” 

“are you telling me the papers and tests aren’t what makes you love college, la rue?” charlie teased. 

she snorted, “oh yeah, because i just love staying up until 1 am writing a paper on greek mythology for classics 101.”

the three of you fell into a comfortable conversation about the class you were all taking. it was a prerequisite class that most athletes choose to take because the professor was flexible with deadlines when it came to athletes. it was helpful especially when a team has to play beyond their season for tournaments or championships. about ten minutes before the opening act got on stage, silena rushed into the tent.

“guys, please you need to come with me. i need your help,” she said frantically. she was nervously tugging on her ‘staff’ badge around her neck, already halfway out of the tent as she waited for the three of you to follow her. “please, it’s an emergency.” 

“woah, lena, what’s going on?” you asked, getting up to comfort her. you followed her through the crowd, grabbing clarisse’s hand to keep her close. 

silena shook her head, continuing her march through the sea of people, “just come with me, i’ll explain when we get backstage.” 

you and clarisse looked at each other, feeling bad for silena. she put in her blood, sweat, and tears into this concert and you knew that she would beat herself up over it if something went wrong. silena always put her all into the projects she’s passionate about, but sometimes things outside of her control happen and unfortunately, she blames herself for it. 

in the whirlwind of ‘excuse me’s’ and ‘sorry’s’, the four of you managed to make your way backstage. it was chaotic. people were running around everywhere making sure everything was set for the opening act. the girl who was opening the concert was waiting by the wings, her guitar strapped across her chest as she took some deep breaths. the crowd wasn’t full yet, but you knew that if you were in that position, you’d still be sweating buckets. going out there on stage to perform for strangers was nerve-racking. you didn’t know how luke did it. you admired that about him. 

“lena, are you gonna tell us what’s going on?” clarisse questioned, picking up the pace of her steps to match silena. 

silena stopped in front of a door, slowly turning to face you and clarisse. suddenly, her stressed facade faded as she twisted the doorknob, “why don’t you see for yourself?” 

if you weren’t so confused about what was going on, you would’ve seen charlie lift his can up to his lips to hide his smile at how proud he was of his girlfriend for her acting skills. when the door opened, your heart stopped. 

luke was here. 

he stood in the middle of the room beside chris with a nervous smile on his face. he was wearing a black leather jacket on top of a white tank top and black pants. his poisoned mercury chain hung from his neck, shining under the overhead lights. his hands were stuffed in his front pockets, shy and timid, as he waited for your reaction. 

clarisse screamed when it hit her that chris was actually here. she ran to him and nearly tackled him to the floor. chris wrapped his arms around his girlfriend and laughed as she giggled into his neck. the two of them shared a heartfelt reunion before rushing out of the room to get some privacy. the sound of the door shutting behind you made you blink.

luke cleared his throat, right hand scratching the back of his neck, “hey, five star.” 

the nickname brought you back to your senses. you ran to him, engulfing him in a tight hug with an ‘umph.’ at first, luke was tense under your touch, unsure if you’d be happy with his surprise, but quickly, he melted into you. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, sighing in content as your familiar scent surrounded him. he felt sparks coursing through his veins as you hugged him tighter and all he could think about was how good it felt to have you in his arms again. his mind was still reeling at your reaction. he didn’t expect you to run to him like this, especially not when it felt like you’d been avoiding his calls over the last few weeks. 

“what are you doing here?” you asked him, pulling away to hold his face in your hands. your eyes twinkled as you raked over his face, still in disbelief that he was actually in front of you. “you’re supposed to be in la.”

luke couldn’t stop the lopsided smile on his face, “well, i lied? we were in nashville recording with your dad and he mentioned that he didn’t schedule a session for us this weekend in case me and chris wanted to take a trip to north carolina, so here we are.” 

you ran your thumbs over his cheekbones, whispering, “here you are.” 

“god, i missed you so much,” he said, voice breaking. “you have no idea how hard it’s been.” 

you gulped, your hold on his face faltering a bit. if luke wasn’t on edge, he wouldn’t have noticed the falter in your step, but he felt the slight hesitation in your actions. your warm touch slowly peeled away from his face and he instantly regretted saying those words. here he goes being clingy again. he removed his hands from your waist, clearing his throat. he sat on the couch, motioning for you to sit beside him. he tried to keep his hands to himself when you left a space between the two of you. 

“i still can’t believe you’re really here,” you said, staring at him. you wanted to lean over and hold him in your arms again, but there was a weird tension in the air that made you feel queasy. “i feel like i’m dreaming right now.” 

“i hope you’re not mad that i’m here,” luke looked down at his lap, flexing his hands. he had to keep his hands busy or else he’d surely reach for yours and he didn’t want to come on too strong. he had to keep his distance. he didn’t want to scare you off any more than he already did. “there was just an opening in the schedule and i-i wanted to see you.” 

“i’m not mad at all.” 

“good, good,” he replied. silence. he forced himself to look up from his lap, twisting his body to face you. he bit his bottom lip, trying to build up the courage to ask his next question. “are we okay?” 

“we’re okay.” 

“okay because i feel like things have been different between us lately,” he pursed his lips, looking at you with sad eyes. his tongue poked out the corner of his lips, eyes darting between you and the wall behind you. “i don’t know. i feel like we haven’t talked in ages, y’know? and i know you’re busy and you have a great life here that i’m not really a part of, but uh, i wanna be, y’know? i don’t know much about school or field hockey, but it’s important to you and you’re important to me so i wanna hear about it.” 

he was met with more silence. luke continued, “maybe i’m asking for too much when i ask you to let me be a part of this life, but uh, i miss you? and i just feel like i’m losing you and that’s the last thing i want. so you gotta give me something, five star. tell me what i can do to be better.” 

“if you need me to back off, i’ll do it, you know? you call the shots. you tell me what you need from me, and i’ll do it, okay? i just– i can’t lose this. i don’t wanna lose you,” luke mumbled. “maybe this is all in my head too. i don’t know anymore.” 

you shuddered, lip quivering, “i feel like i’m holding you back.” 

“what?” 

“come on, luke,” you flicked away the tear that trickled down your cheek, “you’re out there in the world doing what you love. meeting new people. living your life and i don’t want to hold you back from that. we met each other when i didn’t have all these responsibilities and who i was at camp is not who i am here and i know you love those impromptu adventures and trips and spontaneity. a-and i can’t give that to you.” 

“you deserve someone who can live this life with you and i’m stuck here for two more years, luke. i can’t do that,” it was getting hard to breathe. your throat felt like it was closing up, cutting off your airflow. you’d been putting off this conversation for weeks. it didn’t feel right to talk about this over the phone, and you thought that you had a few more weeks to figure out what to say to him when you saw him for winter break, but he was here now. “you deserve more than facetime calls and text messages, and that’s all i can offer.” 

“is this–” he paused, licking his lips. “is this not what you want anymore?” 

“what?” 

“this, us? is this just not what you want anymore?” 

an involuntary laugh escaped you as you wiped under your eye, “castellan, i don’t think i could stop wanting you even if i wanted to. and you know when we first met, i really wanted to.” 

luke moved closer to you, just an inch or two, trying to gauge your reaction. you didn’t move away, which he took as a good sign, “i’m confused. why do you sound like you want to end this then?” 

“i don’t want you to settle for this,” you sighed, “i know what you deserve and it isn’t this.” 

“bullshit.” 

you furrowed your eyebrows, looking at him in disbelief, “what?” 

“i’m sorry, five star, but that’s bullshit,” a small smile was tugging on his lips. he reached over to place a hand over yours. his fingers traced your knuckles, running the pads of his fingers across the familiar ridges of your skin. “i don’t understand how after all this time you still don’t realize that all i want is you. it’s ridiculous, really.” 

“it’s ridiculous?” 

“it’s ridiculous,” he chuckled wetly. his other hand rubbed at his eyes, clearing his foggy vision. “our situation isn’t ideal, i know that, but i’d take long distance with you over anything else with anyone else. don’t you get it, five star? you’re it for me. if this isn’t what you want anymore, i’ll accept that. but if you’re only doing this because you don’t think i want this… five star, i want it all with you. long distance. phone calls. text messages. weekend trips when we can get them. distance has nothing on how i feel about you.” 

leave it to luke castellan to make you blush. you shyly looked at him, eyes twinkling with something more than either of you bargained for when you first met in that secret spot you call yours, “how do you feel about me?” 

“i’m not gonna say it right now because i don’t want to have the first time be while we’re in a fight,” luke laughed. the air was starting to clear. “but i have a feeling you know.” 

“i know,” you squeezed his hand three times, “i do too.” 

“will you put me out of my misery and kiss me please?” 

“always so fucking dramatic,” you scoffed, playfully rolling your eyes, but you leaned over and pressed your lips to his.

[aycius]

SATORU, WHY COULDN'T YOU BE READY, TOO?

feat. satoru gojo

author's note. ahhh this is inspired by faye webster's song"jonny (reprise)!! i love it so much, like i resonate with it so much so ig this is kinda just indulgent :D it is angsty, but i hope you enjoy! my first time writing something that isn't a headcanon or smau so be nice :p

to love satoru gojo is to accept promises in various ranges. empty, full, and even in the form of white lies. to love satoru gojo, is to navigate life on his terms, a world full of uncertainty and agonizing heartbreak.

tonight, you realized that more than ever.

you sat in the edge of the bed, staring at the blank white walls in your shared bedroom that seemed to mock you with their sterility—walls that were meant to be filled with memories now stood as a silent testament to the promising future he claimed he saw with you. the same white walls that he promised would be filled with love and prosperity were still the same spotless walls even after months.

satoru gojo was a force to be reckoned with, his presence overwhelming, his absence even more so. he was everything the world needed, but, unbelievably nothing of what you did. and you loved him—God, you still think you do, but loving him got harder as the months went by.

as you wandered the empty halls of your once shared apartment, ones that used to be filled with memories, you stopped by a portrait of the two of you—smiling, carefree. it felt like a lifetime ago, you think. a time in your life where you thought you could be enough for him.

countless nights you’d spend, waiting for him to finally come home, hoping he'd walk through the door and see you, truly see you. but when he did come home, it was with a tired smile and empty reassurances, his eyes never quite meeting yours.

it wasn't his fault, of course, you knew that. satoru was a product of his world, a world that demanded everything from him. he gave what he could, at least that's what you like to believe. it just.. never seemed enough. you needed more—more than fleeting touches and half-hearted promises. you needed someone who was ready. ready to build a life with you.

with a heavy heart, you turned away from the window, walking to the bedroom to continue packing your bags. a part of you wondered if you were being overdramatic, that you were asking too much of the strongest individual on the planet, but don’t you deserve even the slightest bit of happiness?

as you zipped your final bag, the door creaked open. satoru stood there, his usual carefree expression faltering as he saw the suitcase. his eyes widened, a flicker of something akin to fear crossing his face. but satoru, ever the poker facer, hides it almost instantly.

you met his gaze, as quickly as you dropped it back down to your bags, scurrying to zip them as you wiped a tear from your cheek, “i was just getting my last few things, i’ll be out soon.” you whispered, voice breaking.

but satoru didn’t try to stop you—and it was then you couldn’t tell which hurt most. him watching you pack without muttering another word, or the white walls, that remained empty and waiting.

you were done waiting for him to fill them, though.

to love satoru is to sacrifice your pride and dignity with hopes of filling up those blank white walls. to love him, is to undergo a relentless cycle of longing and heartbreak, for the slightest chance, of earning his love to the fullest.

[makethatelevenrings]

Skeletons in the Closet // D. Grayson x gn!reader

Requested? Yep!

Warnings: reader is followed home at night!!! if anyone ever follows you home, you have my consent to beat the everloving shit out of them!!!! your life is far more valuable to a fucking creeps!!!

Summary: While being followed home after work, you get a call from your boyfriend. He sends in some help from a friend. Things are realized.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck fuck.

With your keys clutched tightly between your thumb and palm and your pepper spray poking out from your grip, you hurried down the street with your heart racing faster each step. Another glance over your shoulder confirmed it. You were being followed.

You had to stay late at work because two of your coworkers had the flu and this was the punishment you got for trying to be nice. Fuck this. Fuck capitalism. Fuck the world and having to be scared walking to your fucking apartment.

And just your luck, the red line stop near your apartment was closed for repairs to the platform structure so that meant you had to walk an extra four blocks to get home. Fuck.

Your phone buzzed in your hand and you nearly jumped out of your skin at the sudden jolt to your system. With shaking hands you swiped your thumb across the screen and pressed it against your cheek as you kept walking.

“Hello?” You really hoped that the person on the other line couldn’t hear the pure, visceral fear in your voice but you doubted it.

“Hey. I was just calling because you never texted that you left work or got home.” Oh. Right. Your boyfriend of three months, Dick Grayson, was a perfect gentleman and he always appreciated a text from you when you got home at night, whether it was from work or a night out with friends. He didn’t care if you were out late partying. He just wanted to make sure you were home safe at the end of the night.

“Right, shit. Sorry. I just got out of work a half hour ago and…” You glanced back at the guy following you and dropped your voice. “Someone’s following me. I’m about ten minutes max away from my apartment and I’ve got pepper spray, but you should know that I-”

“Where are you?” His voice had grown frigid in the time you were rambling and you peered up at the street sign you just passed.

“Avalon and Fifth.”

Dick inhaled deeply and then said something away from the phone, as though he was talking to someone in the background. He moved back closer to the phone and started talking quickly.

“Okay, baby, here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to put my friend on the line and she’s going to keep talking to you, okay? And in the meantime, I have another friend in the area and he’s going to come meet you. Keep walking towards your place. Don’t stop moving. Barbara will talk you through it.”

The line clicked before you could say anything and then a calm, pleasant voice filled your ear. “Hi, I’m Barbara. Dick’s told me a lot about you. Did you know he’s kind of obsessed with you?”

The sudden levity of the question elicited a laugh from you as you hurried down the darkened street. You could hear the footsteps getting closer and it made your throat close with anxiety.

“Hey Barbara, what’s going to happen?” you asked quietly.

“Don’t you worry about that. Just keep walking. You’re doing fine. Why did you stay late at work?”

“My coworkers are sick. Flu season and all that.”

“Hmmm, viruses are a bitch.” There was something in her voice that indicated more to her comment than you knew, but you didn’t have time to pry. The closer you got to an ally, the faster the steps sounded until the guy was full on sprinting towards you.

“Fuck,” you gasped as you turned to watch him barrel at you. Before he could get within three feet of you, a blur of black and blue swung down from seemingly nowhere and then Nightwing was standing over him, escrima sticks clutched tightly in his hands.

“Go,” the vigilante barked. He looked back at you and what a sight you probably made. Shaking, phone pressed to cheek and other hand gripping keys and pepper spray, and what felt like tears streaming down your cheeks, you stared back at the mask covered eyes. His chin dipped and you realized that he was inspecting you for some kind of injury. Nightwing raised his head to stare at you once more and then he jutted his chin out towards you in a silent command. The silvery white scar on his lower jar stood out under the light of the street lamps.

“Go,” he repeated. The man below him tried to sit up and the vigilante snapped one of his bludgeons down onto the man’s arm with a sickening crack, eliciting a scream from the man. You almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

You didn’t need another prompting and instead you turned, tucked tail, and sprinted the rest of the way home. You nearly forgot that Barbara was on the other end of the phone until you heard her call your name.

“I’m…I’m okay. I think. I…I’m okay.” Your hands shook so hard as you tried to unlock the door to your apartment that your dropped your keys and cursed under your breath. Scooping them up once more, you tried again and flew into your apartment.

“I’m home. Door’s locked. I’m fine. I…fucking hell. What just happened?”

“Hey, hey,” Barbara said. “Breathe with me, okay? That was a scary situation. Breathe. In two, out three. There we go.”

The fragments and pieces of your scattered brain started to knit an image together of what just happened. As the adrenaline receded, you were able to try and come to terms with the events of that night and one thing stood out to you.

The scar on his chin.

Nightwing’s.

The same scar that you pressed a kiss to in thanks for coffee. The same scar you made sure to pepper with kisses when your boyfriend curled around you and fell asleep against your chest. The same scar that you looked up at when he pulled sweet moans out of your lungs.

“I’m going to kill him,” you hissed.

Barbara barked out a laugh. “Please make sure to film it for me.”

“Oh, I will.” You tossed your keys and pepper spray onto the table just as a shadow passed over the window of your living room. “It’s been nice meeting you, Barbara, but I have to go strangle someone.”

“I’m going to put your number in my phone and we will be getting coffee soon.” You gave her a final goodbye and then stalked towards the window. Your phone tumbled onto the plush cushions of the couch as you passed. Yanking open the window, you stuck your head out and glared at the vigilante standing on the far end of your fire escape.

“So this is why you always make an excuse to not stay the night,” you snapped. Anxiety had turned to rage real quick. Nightwing grimaced and raised his gloved hand to run his fingers through his hair. It was then that you saw the fresh blood that mottled his knuckles and you knew exactly where it came from.

“And also why I make sure you get home at night,” he added quietly. You crooked your finger at him and he complied wordlessly. His footsteps were nearly silent on the old fire escape and you took a moment to marvel at how such a muscular man was able to move so quickly and quietly.

“Is this it? Any more skeletons in your closet?” you asked.

“You know about my family, so no. No more skeletons.”

“I’m going to ask Barbara when we go and get coffee,” you breathed against his lips. Dick paled slightly before he cleared his throat.

“That’s fair.”

“Now get in here and get that suit off. I’m still mad at you but I could really do with a hug right now.”

He didn’t protest.

Tag List: @someoneimsure​ @perpetual-fangirl900​ @visagebrise​ @cursedandromedablack​ @alexxavicry​ @the-wayward-daughter​ @raging-trash-of-mind​ @bunny-kawa​ @khaylin27​

[aziraphales-library]

Hi there! I’m in search of the perfect M rated fics - where aziracrows intimacy and desire is explored but perhaps not in such an explicit way. Bonus points for great kissing scenes. Any ideas? X

Hello. Here are some intimate M-rated fics...

Of Words and Wonder by AJ_Constantine (M)

When Aziraphale idly wonders what kissing is like, Crowley impulsively show hims. This sparks feelings between them that they’d never felt before, which is as shocking as it is wonderous. Aziraphale attempted (and likely failed) at a casually light tone, as it came out rather breathless and wobbly, “So, er, that’s what kissing is like?” Crowley leaned forward, his mouth against Aziraphale’s ear, breath tickling against sensitive skin as he hissed, “No, angel. That wasss not what kisssing is like. That wasss … sssomething elssse entirely.”

like real people do by rabbitinrain (M)

The couple on the screen tumble about some more. Little gasps escape their throats. One of them throws their head back in a silent moan. “I meant,” Crowley says through gritted teeth. “Do you. Ugh. Should we try that?” “Ah. Do you want to try it?” Crowley grimaces. If they were anyone else, in any other circumstances, then Aziraphale might take offence to such a reaction. Fortunately for Crowley, they’re two sexless beings who have only just mastered the art of kissing (and communicating) properly, so it’s only natural for him to still be somewhat wary about this. What he eventually settles on, after mulling it over for so long that the couple on the screen have had ample time to finish up their activities and get a good night’s sleep to top it all off, is this: “Eh, maybe.”

Or; Crowley and Aziraphale try something new.

A Warm Day In the Third Circle by Kat_Rowe (M)

(A fic in which it is acknowledged that what you want isn't always as wonderful as what you already have. Also a fic in which a great deal of gluttony occurs. Gluttony for food, gluttony for touch, and gluttony for the sensation of being deeply and completely loved.) For reasons best not explored too closely, Crowley and Aziraphale are covered in flour and bits of pastry dough. A shared bath seems like the only natural response to this turn of events. Crowley being Crowley, alcohol is involved. Aziraphale being Aziraphale, so are sweets. Their relationship is changing, and so are they. Things that wouldn't have been possible a few months ago have become commonplace. Crowley finds a lot of it overwhelming, but being overwhelmed isn't always a bad thing.

Noisome Breath by DiminishingReturns (M)

Six thousand years of wanting comes to a head after the stress of the failed apocalypse, and Aziraphale and Crowley get swept away in a heated moment. Swept away to someplace... else. Someplace where they can finally take a breath and slide the last piece of the puzzle into place.

Hope Is The Thing With Feathers by Gefionne (M)

Because they can’t see each other more than once every few decades, Aziraphale suggests that he and Crowley write to each other to pass the time apart. As quills for their letters, they exchange wing feathers: a gesture of great intimacy that Crowley is convinced only he perceives the depth of. But time will tell that it’s not just him who sees it that way.

Effortless Intimacy by Quefish (M)

Aziraphale and Crowley, learning each other. There is more to intimacy than sex, thank Somebody.

- Mod D

[teddy06writes]

Hi! I hope you're doing okay! I say that you were taking Alfie requests and was wondering if it would be alright for me to ask this from the “i’ll keep you safe” prompts list you reblogged:

⋆ “either go to bed and get some rest willingly, or i will drag your ass down the hall kicking and screaming. you know i’ll have no problem with either option.”

I don't know why, but to me this seems like a very Alfie thing to do. Especially if he sees that his partner is overtired and yet too stubborn to get rest.

No pressure either way! Love your writing and thank you 🖤

"Either go to bed and get some rest willingly, or I will drag your ass down the hall kicking and screaming."

Alfie Solomons x gn!reader

Prompt: “Either go to bed and get some rest willingly, or i will drag your ass down the hall kicking and screaming. You know i’ll have no problem with either option.”

Trigger Warnings: Somehow only one (1) swear, (does that imply ooc alfie? Whos to say)

Summary: Lately, you've been overworking yourself, stretching yourself thin in an attempt to prove yourself to your new bosses. Alfie wants you to rest, and will have none of your excuses. Reader works at Ward, Lock & Co, a real publishing house based in London that opened originally in the 1850s and still functions as a member of a larger publishing group today.

{Look at me putting my degree work to use :D Reader is meant to be an editorial assistant}

{Thanks so much for requesting!!}

You'd been working for hours. The stack of folders you had brought home with you for the weekend, stuffed full with unread manuscripts, had barely seemed to shrink. The editor you reported to had all but dumped the stack on your desk in the office, asking you to sift through the slushpile to find something worth while.

You'd only been at this job a month, and you wanted so desperately to prove that you were worthy of staying with the company. To prove that you had what it took to become a senior editor one day.

The manuscript in front of you was by far not the worst thing you'd read today, but as the hour grew later and your eyelids grew heavier, it only got more and more boring. You found yourself reading the same sentence over and over again.

You underlined another particularly well written piece of dialogue, hardly even noticing as footsteps made their way down the hall toward you.

"Treacle?"

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of your husband's voice, looking up from your work to find him leaning against the door frame, "Jesus- Alf you scared me half to death!"

He let out a quiet chuckle, venturing further into the room, "You comin to bed love? It's gettin late."

You nodded absently, already focused back on the pages before you, "Mhhm."

Alfie surveyed the scene in front of him with knowing eyes. From the dark circles gathering under your eyes, to the long since abandoned cup of tea he'd brought you earlier in the day, forgotten and threatening to be lost in the midst of your so called 'controlled chaos'. He knew you had been working hard, he understood why you felt you needed to prove yourself so desperately.

Still, it hurt his heart to see you pushing yourself like this. You, who always badgered him into taking breaks and staying home from the bakery on the days his sciatica was bothering him.

You stifled a yawn, rubbing at one of your eyes with the heel of your hand.

"Treacle?" He tried again, hovering at the edge of your desk.

You looked up at him, blinking owlishly, as if you'd almost forgotten he was there, "Alfie?"

"Are you coming to bed or not?"

You glanced back down at the pages before looking back up at him, "I've got to get this done. Just this one more and then I'll be in, okay?"

"Just the one?" He raised an eyebrow. It was never just one.

Still, you nodded seriously, "Just the one."

Alfie sighed, but moved to make himself comfortable on the sofa the two of you had chosen to furnish your study with, so long ago now, for when you needed company while you worked.

From there, he watched as the hour grew later and later, and your head drooped lower and lower. While you were making some progress, it was clear that you wouldn't be finishing that submission tonight.

Eventually, Alfie stood, making his way back to your desk, and put a hand on your shoulder, gently, "Treacle, come on, give it a rest love."

"I need to finish this, Alfie!"

He let out an exasperated sigh, "Petal, you're worn out. Let's get to bed, and you can finish this in the morning, yeah?"

You crossed your arms, "You don't understand! If I can't handle this- If I can't get through this, they'll think I'm no good for the job! Alfie-"

"Ah, ah, ah, none of that now, love," He cut you off, grabbing your hands and gently pulling you up out of your chair, "That's just your being tired talking yeah?"

"Alf..."

Alfie's voice stayed gentle and calm, "Listen to me, sweetness, yeah? Either go to bed and get some rest willingly, or i will drag your ass down the hall kicking and screaming. You know i’ll have no problem with either option.”

You sighed, leaning into him, "Fine."

He beamed, "That's more like it."

Alfie was quick to guide you back down the hall, and within a matter of minutes, you were tucked safely within his arms, fast asleep.

[valiantroeagleangel]

Varney.

Vampire! Noah Sebastian x female reader.

Varney! Noah, mention of blood, kind of dub-con but not really but a bit I think because of compulsion, oral, unprotected sex, mention of death.

I often have thoughts with Vampire! type of shit and I think I got a bit carried away gathering some of them here. Maybe I need to warn that this is inspired by the book "Varney the Vampire: The Feast of Blood." It's gothic horror I think, nothing too graphic is going on here though. But just- don't want you to be fooled, this is based on gothic gross vampires not that sparkling Edward bitch. I know nobody reads that part every time but you can't say you haven't been warned.

5.3k words if you ask.

Mama’s tag list:  @philomenie @gipsonnikki @circle-with-me @somewhere-diamond @malice-ov-mercy  @smokeynaomi @darkhallcorner  @loeytuan98  @sthnog  @cookiesupplier  @cncohshit  @lma1986  @skulliecadaver-blog @talialovesmiw @to-be-written @4rtificialfolio @arkiliastuff

"Varney enjoys all the pleasures at once and when he manages to desecrate the bed of a pretty young woman while bleeding her white in a horrible sucking sound. He is a fearsome and scary creature that usually wakes up the members of the fair sex by scratching at the window of their room."

She knew he was here. She could feel him, hear him. She could hear the same four notes he was humming, letting the melody indicate his presence to those around. She looked through the window, trying to discern the shape outside, the condensation on the glass concealing his figure. But she knew he was here, god she knew and she couldn't look away. She didn't dare to move, she didn't want him to know she knew. He did though. Of course, he did. He just didn't say anything, he couldn't scare his prey. She was so innocent in her white nightgown, creeping at the window from her bed, fearing to be harmed in the middle of the night.

So he continued to sing his chords, the notes living rent-free in her mind for years now.

D♭, G♭, E♭ₘ and A♭ₘ.

It was like an obsessive thought, it intruded her mind, and it ate her brain. All she could do was hum along every time she heard them.

She knew he was here, she always did. And even if she abhorred it to hell, all she could do was to be haunted by these notes. They were so mesmerizing, like she was compelled to appreciate them, finding comfort in them even though they seemed terrifying.

D♭, G♭, E♭ₘ and A♭ₘ.

She murmured them like a mantra, like it would save her from damnation. As if they were going to keep him away from her when he was the one living by their harmony.

D♭, G♭, E♭ₘ and A♭ₘ.

It wasn't that hard. Actually, if she tried, she was sure she could play them on the piano.

D♭, G♭, E♭ₘ and A♭ₘ.

She was just a child then, not so long ago, when she first heard these four notes. That day he left a letter. "I'll come for you, my yuri." Yuri was not her name and by then she had no fucking clue of what he meant. She still doesn't. With time, the years went by and he started to reach for her again. It was first once a month, then once every two weeks, to finally once a week. The more she grew the more he seemed to visit. He was frightening her. He looked so tall, so massive and impressive. She only saw his face once, disguised in the darkness of her room. It was the only time he approached her that close and despite the terror she felt that night all she could remember was his long nose and the way his hair framed his face.

But while he continued his visits, he never tried anything to harm her to her surprise. She knew what he was, she often heard the elder talk about these creatures that come for you at night. But she liked to think he was some kind of protector. Oh, only if she knew. His intentions were everything but caring and kind. He wanted her. From the moment he saw her as a child, he wanted her, he wanted her blood. She smelled like no other.

His first thought was to get rid of her as a child, get a good meal from her and leave her for dead in the snow in front of her house. But even for him, killing that innocent child was too much. So he waited, promising himself a good feast for the years to come. He just had to watch for her, to be sure that no one would try to harm his prey. They called him Varney, Varney the vampire, attacking only those who were pure enough to be maidens. But as the years passed he never acted. He could have assailed her a thousand times now. She was not a child anymore and she lived so carefree- that girl was completely unconscious. He needed to act and to act soon before she would do something that would ruin her forever.

But he did nothing, he watched her for years, he observed how she evolved, how she went from that sweet smiling child to the woman she was today. And god, he was happy he waited because nothing ever smelled as divine as her. She smelled like strong lilies, yuri.

Yuri was the Japanese appellation for lilies. He didn't know her name, even after all these years he didn't look into it. He didn't need to know his prey, all he needed to was watch over her. Watch how happily she danced during the spring balls, how sad she cried during the dead season at the end of the autumn, how charming she was for the Christmas time, and how fragile she looked alone in her bed at night. That poor nightgown wasn't doing her any favour, he swore that if he squinted just a bit more he could see everything. That clothing was so see-through that she might be freezing to death during those stormy nights.

One day he dropped her a cloth, some kind of duvet for her body to heat. It was the only time he actually entered her room, hoping for her to be dead asleep. Unfortunately, she was not, and she saw his face. He knew she did, he only hoped for her to not remember, to think that it was some kind of dream. Only that she wasn't dumb, she knew he was lurking for her all these years and she knew he was here that night, next to her bed. At first, she thought she was good to die, the time had come. A stranger in her room watched her sleep like a psychopath, but he only dropped that duvet, and she knew it was him. He hummed for her and her body relaxed immediately. He had tamed her, had domesticated her. She wasn't even worried about him intruding on her space like that.

He knew he did a great job then, even if she saw what she was supposed to never see, his face.

D♭, G♭, E♭ₘ and A♭ₘ.

Winter balls have never been her thing. She much preferred the ones that were held in the spring or the summer. The celebrations were different, more festive. During the winter the balls were cold, held in big mansions from the ones who were welcoming all the people. Often they were masquerade parties, and she hated that too. She didn't like wearing that mask all night, it was itching and making her face sweat like a pig. Gosh, she hated them, and that corset dress too. It was so tight she could barely breathe. Spring balls were allowing more liberties, no masks, no dresses, nothing but dancing.

Nonetheless, she still walked through that hall, finally entering that marble castle and she couldn't help but appreciate the heat that welcomed her. Greeted by some kind of butler she walked through the corridors, reaching the room of the festivities.

She stared at the impressive chandelier, overwhelmed by all the luxury that surrounded her. She didn't have any idea whose house it was this time. Winter balls were held by the nobles of the land, one by one, it's all she needed to know, at least that's what she lived by.

And just like that the night went, she danced around with some people, chatted with others, it was all pleasant until she couldn't take it anymore. Politely she escaped the small group she was with, reaching for a balcony of some kind as she hoped for some air. That corset was for sure killing her. She laughed to herself, the idea of being killed by her awful garments making her smile a little.

"Oh no the poor lady suffocated in that way too tight dress, who's idea it was? We should strip her naked to see!" She mimicked some kind of rude man by herself, laughing even more at her antics. Maybe she was drunk, maybe it was the heat obstructing her brain, but she found that pleasant enough.

D♭, G♭, E♭ₘ and A♭ₘ.

Until he called for her. She first thought her brain was playing her tricks, but he called again.

D♭, G♭, E♭ₘ and A♭ₘ.

She looked up, then down, looking for that well-known figure, only to notice him hidden among the roses of the garden below. She moved as fast as she could, hoping to actually be able to catch him tonight. She had so many things to ask, but she wasn't afraid, curiosity was gnawing at her.

D♭, G♭, E♭ₘ and A♭ₘ.

He sang the chord again and she let his voice guide her through the labyrinth of flowers and small trees she was losing herself in.

D♭, G♭, E♭ₘ and A♭ₘ.

"Come for me, my yuri."

He talked to her and for the first time, she felt like she heard his voice, like he was real, like all of this was concrete.

D♭, G♭, E♭ₘ and A♭ₘ.

She couldn't see him yet, but the more she walked the more the melody became persistent.

"Yuri."

He guided her with his voice, keeping it sultry, as soft as his sweet words. Once again transported by his melodies, all she could do was search for him, she was completely frenetic, obsessed. She needed him, she needed more. She wondered why every time she heard him sing she couldn't feel fear anymore. As if he was some kind of saviour, an angel from heaven.

And then she saw him, standing in front of the fountain, hidden by thousands of thorns and roses. She recognized that tall frame and that nose. It's all she could remember him by, the long nose, so straight, so pretty, making him look so elegant.

She was in awe, her eyes staring straight into his, her lips agape. She didn't even dare to swallow, worried he might disappear at any second as if he was supernatural. He wasn't real, he wasn't human, she swore he was not. But he was clearly not an angel either. His aura was so dark and she remembered why she feared him at first.

His eyes pierced through her skin and she suddenly felt naked, as if she was not the one only wearing nightgowns in front of him every night for the past ten years. It was so different from what he used her to, he actually looked terrifying, as she remembered him from when she was a kid. He felt the change in her mood, felt how frightened she became in an instant. And without her even realizing he was by her side, in a flash, he towered over her against that thorny bush.

"It's okay my yuri, don't be afraid." He tried to soothe her, to coax her, but it didn't work that time. As if his voice had lost all of his fascinating power.

She tried to step back, only to puncture the naked skin of her arms with another thorn, a single drop of blood forming at her wound. It cascaded through her arm until it reached her hand. She felt it rolling down but her eyes were drowning in his. She couldn't look away, it didn't matter how frightened she actually was, her gaze couldn't leave his.

He licked his lower lips, the glow in his eyes darkening, and she didn't miss any of that. He swallowed hard, his eyes alternating between hers and her lips. He licked his once again, until he couldn't bear it one more minute. Carefully, he approached his face to hers, brushing his lips on hers.

"You’re bleeding Yuri." he whispered and she swallowed hard, her voice stuck in her throat. "Be careful, we wouldn't want to hurt that delicate flower."

Was he talking about her or about the roses behind her? She had no idea but she still blushed and he stepped back, leaving her some personal space again while she realized she actually had stopped breathing for several seconds now. He held his hand to her as he went sitting on the edge of the fountain.

She followed obediently, actually taking his hand in her as he pulled her toward him, startled by how hot she was compared to him. He made her stand between his spread legs, turning her so he could face her back. His eyes fell on the blood spreading on her arm, strings of red tarnishing the purity of her skin. Hypnotized by it he let his fingers travel from her hand to her forearms and the upper arms, brushing gently her skin in his path, ever so slowly, as delicate as he saw her. The scent of it was becoming intoxicating and he wished he could smell more, touch more, feel the thickness of the blood between his fingers, he wanted to taste her so badly. She smelled like lilies but would she taste like lilies too?

"Yuri." It escaped him, a murmur that he couldn't refrain from, it's all he was thinking about. Lily, Yuri. He didn't move, he didn't even try to act like nothing happened, he just fixated on the blood imprinting her skin. He hadn't smelled it in years but it smelled as divine as the first time he saw her. It was even more sacred than that day.

"What does Yuri mean?" She asked, clueless, as she stared at the bush where she actually hurt herself. Her voice startled him, he wasn't used to hearing her. He found that sweet, so sweet. She was all her blood was, he was sure of that and he wondered, for a second, if he wasn't just infatuated with her.

"Lily." He answered calmly, but if his heart was still actually beating he swore he would be breaking.

"Lily as the flower?" He only hummed at her as a form of answer. His thumb brushed the wound and she didn't react. He wished she would have hissed or whined, but she didn't, she only stayed still, staring at the bush. "Why?"

The more his thumb caressed her the more she relaxed into his touch, as if she wasn't terrified minutes before.

"Because-" He stopped, thinking of what he was about to say actually. "Just because. You don't need to know."

When he finally took his finger away, he brought it to his lips, allowing himself to taste, just for a bit, just a tidbit as his tongue licked it more than he should have.

The taste lingered in his mouth and thinking suddenly became hard, way too hard for the simple man he used to be. Worried by the absence of sounds he was making she turned back, facing him.

He looked at her from under, curled up on himself as he revelled himself in the flavour of her blood. Eyes dark and bloodshot, canines peeking through, long nails finishing his hands. When she realized what he was actually doing her eyes widened. His lips were stained with the liquid. For an unknown reason, she found him absolutely gorgeous. He looked so needy, it actually surprised her. How could the strong figure ensuring her at night look so weak under her like that?

Caught red-handed, he tried to compose himself to not lose the imposing presence he tried so hard to give himself these past few years. But the blood still on his lips, he couldn't behave decently. He felt so stupid, like a horny teenager, all he wanted was her.

Completely incautiously, she approached her fingers, wiping his lips and her blood away. When her fingers left his mouth he chased her, chased the heat of that alive body and the taste that was coming along, the taste he was losing. She could have touched his canine in that moment, she could have injured herself badly by unleashing that part of him. She hadn't noticed them but they were menacing to pierce through her weak skin and suck the life out of her. It's all he had been dreaming of all these years, he was so close to his goal, if only he dared to catch her.

But in the silence of the night a couple came to disturb their peace, distracting her attention away from him for a couple of seconds, acknowledging the two persons stepping into the garden. And when she eventually looked back at him he had disappeared, like he vanished into the night.

She cursed, startled by how quickly he was to leave. She knew he was able to do that, she was just not expecting him to do it tonight. She was so close, terrified but yet drowned to him, and now he faded without even telling her his name. She sighed, desperate as she sat on the edge of the fountain, trying to process what just had happened.

On his side, he cussed everybody who dared to put themself between himself and her. He was so close finally, if only he got a few more minutes he could have ravished her right here right now. How stupid he was to have hesitated even one second, he was getting weak and it was something that he couldn’t allow.

Following that event, the nights passed and looked all the same, dull, cold, and annoying. He didn't come for a total of nine nights, she counted them all. Nine nights were she was, in fact for the first time since her childhood, free from his gaze. She could have left, she could have brought someone home, she could have done all the things she doesn't dare to do when she knows he's lurking at her, but she did nothing.

On that ninth night though, she knew he was here. Despite the absence of melody, she could feel him, she could tell how disguised he was in the shadow, like he was actually for once ashamed of what he was doing. Because all he was, in fact, was a creep, lurking at a woman's window every night. And when it finally hit her all she could do was clench her legs. He was here for her, he was watching her every night, in that white nightgown, that little dress, revealing her naked body underneath, and he was here, and he was watching her.

Her legs clenched once again and she rolled into her bed, trying to chase her thoughts away but she was still feeling his presence. It was burning her, every ounce of the sheets her body was touching tingled. She rolled over and over, the image of that needy man, sucking on her blood, his fingers in his mouth like he was starving. She clenched her legs. Again. She was so petite under him, against the bush, her body hitting the thorns. Again. Was it the blood? Would he come for her if she was bleeding again? Again.

She wanted him to come for her, she wanted to ask him his name and feel his cold fingers on his arms once again.

D♭, G♭, E♭ₘ and A♭ₘ.

She called for him, naturally, like he called for her but he didn't answer, he stayed in his darkness, unsure of what to do. Did she want him to devour her all? Did she know what he had planned to do?

D♭, G♭, E♭ₘ and A♭ₘ.

She called again, tempting him, playing with the little nerves he had.

D♭, G♭, E♭ₘ and A♭ₘ.

Like a plea, she called him, she called for his furtive touch, his calloused fingers, she called for him to get out of the darkness. And when he finally dared to step out of the corner, she realized that he wasn't outside like she thought he was. He was in her room. Like he did the first time he saw her wearing that ridiculous nightgown. Her eyes widened at her -expected- unexpected visitor.

He approached her bed as she straightened herself, switching positions to sit on her feet, revealing herself. His hands approached her face, his fingers caressing the top of her cheek and she shivered, the contact surprising her, his coldness contrasting with her hot body.

"Shh, it's too late to be afraid, Yuri." As always, his voice relaxed her and she leaned into his touch, her face chasing his hand until he cupped his whole cheek, his fingers reaching from behind her ears. His thumb stroked her face and she sighed, closing her eyes, like it was her missing piece. She didn't understand why but she felt herself ignite. She was burning and the more he gently caressed her face the more she was catching on fire.

In a movement, as furtive as always, he sat on the bed, the mattress not making a single sound as it was used to. When she finally opened her eyes back, she met his gaze and it all suddenly became hard to breathe. She wanted to call him, to whisper his name but she had no idea of who he was, so she only murmured a quiet "please." that looked more like a whine than anything else, it was a supplication. She didn't know what she was pleading for but she did, she needed to get freed from this, whatever it was, and she knew he was the one who was going to help her. It felt like evidence, he was the one who was going to free her from that painful agony.

"Please what? Tell me, my sweet lily." He asked, his free hand cupping her other cheek and she closed her eyes again, expecting a kiss that never came. Why would he have kissed her? She didn't know, but she knew he was about to, she saw it, she felt it, she-

"Kiss me." She asked for it, the words escaping her without her consent, like he compelled her to do so. "Please kiss me-"

She wanted to call his name again but was dismissed that right, her lack of knowledge of his person showing. It scared her once again, how ready she was to give herself to that man she barely knew, how she let him watch her all these years, it wasn't herself, she was scared of him but why did it feel so good at that very moment?

But thoughts became long forgotten when she felt his lips on her, chastely moving in rhythm, like another chord. It's all she needed to lose it, she didn't think anymore, a violent moan leaving her when he pressed himself even more on her. Their two bodies flopped on the bed, her back hitting the mattress as he quickly settled himself on top of her without ever breaking the kiss. He could have done whatever he wanted with her, she was putty in his hand at that very moment, she belonged to him the second he put his hands on her nine nights ago.

He kissed her as if his life depended on it, as if he wasn't already half-dead, he was drowning in her scent. The more he kissed her the more she whined into his arms, her scent becoming stronger and stronger. He was drunk on her, he could feel her blood rushing through her whole body, he could hear how fast her heart was beating, how hot and aroused she was just from his kisses. When he finally broke apart for real, letting her gasp for air, he analyzed her, the needy look she was giving him, as if she needed this as much as he did, as she didn't need to live, what was her life in comparison to man's touch?

She wanted to ask for his name again, and finally, as if he read her mind, he breathed out, his mouth drawn to her neck.

"Noah." His mouth attached itself, almost automatically to her skin and he dared, just so little, press his teeth against her carotid, enough to just feel the blood pump under his touch.

She tilted her head back at the contact, sighing. "Noah." She repeated and he nodded, smiling in the crook of her neck as he travelled on her body. She was smelling so good, he was going crazy, the more he approached her heart the more excited he was. His lips landed on her clavicle, her cleavage and when he finally dared reach that devil gown, who taunted him so many times, he ripped it, freeing her chest from the fabric. He almost moaned at the sight of her bare body, like it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his entire life, and it was. She was almost glowing in his eyes, like she was coming straight from heaven and he wondered how it was possible for a creature of the devil like him to be able to reach for the gods through her.

"Noah." She called again, cautiously, like these words would hurt her if she said them too fast or too loud.

He hummed against her, his head already diving into her chest, his lips attached to her left breast he sucked on it, feeling her heart pump under him, feeling the blood coming to his mouth as he sucked a bit more vividly. Until he sucked enough for his teeth to pierce through her skin, her blood escaping her without her being able to contest or fight. All she could feel was the euphoria that his touch was giving her.

The taste of her was like a relief, it was the best thing he ever put in his mouth, after centuries of existence. It was the sweetest of the nectars. When he was still human he recalled once drinking a wine called "The Wine of the Gods." The best one ever created. But he swore it was nothing compared to her. Nothing could compete with that delicate sweetness, she tasted like she smelled and he couldn't stop. He wondered if her pussy tasted the same, his intrusive thoughts battling against him and his will to feed. He couldn't get his teeth out of her breast but god- her pussy, scented as divine as her blood and he wanted to taste her so bad.

He opened his eyes back but it was too late, she was already too far away from her pleasure, drowning in all the sensations she was feeling. When he finally collected enough will he left her chest, not without regrets, to pamper her with kisses, travelling through her stomach to reach her bare pussy. She didn't bother herself with underwear at night and he couldn't be more glad for that.

He kissed her pelvis, his mouth not leaving her skin for more than a few seconds. And when he finally dared to settle between her legs, when she automatically spread them for him, all he wanted to do was thrust violently into her and bite her neck until she would cry from the pain. But he did nothing of that, he gently bit her inner thigh, delecting himself with the so little blood he took.

Finally deciding to put his hands to good use, he grabbed her by the hips, his fingers sinking in their fat as he pushed her to his face. She squirmed under him, her hands reaching for his hair by instinct. All she wanted was to push him more and more on her, begging him to speed up his pace. She was dying for his touch, completely compelled and mesmerized by her predator, just like he wanted her.

But the predator liked to play too much. He only teased her, keeping his slow motions, nice and gentle, groaning when she would moan a little bit louder or push him a little bit too hard.

He was quick to get how her body worked and how she reacted in a certain way. Soon he had his two hands grabbing her legs to put them on his shoulders, his tongue pressed against her cunt with such fervour. His nose rubbed her clit, making her moan. Her hands immediately left his hair to cover her mouth, refraining from her sounds but he was quick to move, leaving his spot between her legs to reach her face, grabbing her hands to move them away from her mouth.

"Let me hear you Yuri, let me hear the holy sounds you make." Quickly, he regained his place back, his tongue pushing itself on her folds as she moaned again.

He was cold, all of his being was freezing but it was enough to make her burn under his touch. She desired him in a way that she never desired anybody, and yet she felt so away that she wasn't sure it was her who was feeling all these emotions. Her heart was ready to explode as she pushed his head deeper against her core. She moaned and he answered back, groaning vividly between her legs.

The closer she grew to her orgasm the sweeter she tasted, it was intoxicating, it was all too much. Until she came, rocking her hips on his face, quivering between his hands and crying his name for her own sake, to remember something tangible, like all of this was real. Because she felt completely out of her body, her conscience tore apart from herself.

Nonetheless, he kept eating her, he couldn't get enough of her scent, of her taste. If he wasn't a starved man before he definitely was one now. He only pulled apart when he heard her cry his name out, completely overstimulated. And when he finally dared to look at her he understood how fucked he was. Because there was no way he was turning back now, there was no way he was letting her run free into the wild again. He just needed her body over his, he needed to be inside of her for real, to feel her alive around him. At that very moment, he didn't care about anything else, he needed to feel how warm she was, how alive she was compared to him. And when he finally achieved that feeling, when he finally thrusted into her without a care in the world he almost immediately came from the sensation. Nothing ever made him feel alive like that, even not when he was actually alive.

She cried for him but at this point, every sound she made was long forgotten, he was already gone. He heard her heart beating, like a psychotic melody. It was maddening, the more he thrusted the more he heard it.

D♭, G♭, E♭ₘ and A♭ₘ.

She kept crying of pleasure, reaching for his embrace and when he finally held her between his arms she was ready to give up on her life. It was feeling all too good to be true, it wasn't her, she knew it, he was only chasing his own pleasure yet she was reaching her climax so quickly. Something wasn't right but it was too late to notice. Her arms around his back she held him closer, tightening her grasp on him to comfort herself.

She was doomed. She knew it, it was the end. She cried out, from the pain this time as she acknowledged her situation. He held her closer, feasting on her supplications, one of his hands reaching for her face, his thumb brushing away some tears."Shhh, it's okay Yuri. It's too late now." and before she could come he bit violently into her neck, the pain awakening immediately. It was violent, brutal, nothing like before. She felt her life escape her without being able to do anything while he continued to fete on her, unable to stop drinking from her, years of starvation just for that instant. But for him, it was all worth it, nothing had ever been as worth it as it was. It was delicious, excruciating all of his senses. He never felt so great in so many years. He loved those who were pure enough to be maidens, they really were a gift from the gods, descended straight from heaven and he was bringing her back to where she belonged. Away from the monstrosities of the earth. Away from himself who belonged to hell. Varney.

The chords used are from Masquerade by Versailles.