#it wasn’t worth the constant waking up but well

[azmageddon]

Silence

Pairing: Azriel x Cassian's twin!healer!reader

Summary: When you get stuck Under the Mountain, your mate finds the sudden silence deafening.

Warnings: none!

a/n: Based on an anonymous request! Requests are so fun! I love exploring ideas I never would have thought of. Keep them coming! This all takes place within the same AU where reader and Azriel kept their relationship secret from the IC (besides Cassian).

Azriel's POV

The silence was deafening. Never in the last 450 years had he felt such empty silence. The bond was never closed. 

But now it was silent and cold. The golden thread that joined him to you floated from the middle of his chest, right at the center of his soul, into nothing. He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes, rubbing until he saw stars, willing this to be a dream he would wake up from. But Azriel knew better than to think this was a dream. He never slept anyway. 

“Keep Velaris safe,” Rhys’ voice had said. “And don’t come after us.”

Rhys’ voice was calm, yet commanding. It was the demand of a High Lord: something Azriel physically couldn’t ignore. 

At first, he didn’t understand the command. What did he mean, don’t come after us? Keep Velaris safe? You and Azriel had just been having a mental conversation, gossiping over the abhorrent fashion of the Autumn brothers, when Rhys’ voice interrupted you mid-sentence. 

But when Azriel reached back out to you to ask what the warning meant, he was met only with the thick, suffocating silence. 

The bond was never closed. It stayed open when you were hard at work: treating the injured, delivering babies, or easing the pain of Illyrians’ clipped wings. It stayed open when you were angry, or sad, after an argument, especially if you wanted him to feel particularly bad about it afterward.

The bond was never closed. Not when he went on missions for weeks at a time. Not even when he dragged Rhys’ prisoners to the dungeons of the Hewn City and did unspeakable things. You were his comfort. Your shared emotions were what grounded him, reminded him that life was worth living. They were a constant in his life, as effortless to absorb as breathing. 

You had become his inner voice; his conscience. His reminder that he wasn’t the villain of this story. Now that it was gone, he wasn’t sure. 

For 450 years, the bond was never closed, a vow the two of you had made when you accepted the mating bond. But now, that silence was louder than any battle or war he had ever partaken in. 

The memory of when he had found out you were mates played in his head. Azriel couldn’t keep the memory from flooding into his mind and the guilt that came along with it every time he remembered. 

You, covered in blood that wasn’t your own, watching him with worry in your eyes. 

“How long have you known?” He remembers asking, venom lacing every word he spat at you. He was angry and embarrassed; how could he have missed all the signs? How could you keep such an important, life altering secret from him? He couldn’t show that embarrassment, couldn’t show weakness, especially not to you. So he chose anger instead. 

“Since the day we met,” you replied, taking a step and trying to close the gap between the two of you. Instinctively, Azriel took a step back, the shock turning his embarrassment to shame and anger to rage.

“I was eleven when we met, Y/N,” he hissed, implying the absurdity of the time frame. Nearly a century of his fate was kept a mystery to him. Cassian had joined them at that point, pointedly observing that Azriel wasn’t taking the news well. A thought surfaced in his mind. Turning to Cassian, he has to refrain from advancing on his longest friend. “And how long have you known?” Cassian’s silence was the only answer he needed.

Azriel shook his head to clear it, choosing not to remember how you cried at the way he turned away and left you with your heart in his hands, just for him to crush it. 

It all made sense after your confession. He never understood why you insisted on being childhood friends. He was broken and lonely and disowned by his own family, but you had always shown true kindness and friendship. As you grew together, you slowly evolved into innocent adolescence first loves, and eventually adult lovers. It wasn’t until your untimely move from Illyria to Velaris to work for the late High Lord that Azriel never saw you again. That is, until the first war with Hybern and your admission of the truth. 

After Azriel had recovered from the initial anger and shock, your best kept secret had become a shared secret as the two of you accepted the bond. He still remembers the first time he heard your voice in his head. Your lovely, soft voice that wrapped around his mind like the sweetest honey. 

“Old age getting to you?” You teased as Azriel took what looked like a painful blow to the stomach from Rhys during training. 

He was so taken aback by your voice that he even turned to you, thinking you had said it out loud. But you weren’t looking at him; you had your back turned in a combat sequence with your brother. 

The momentary lapse rewarded him with another hit from Rhys, this time on the side of the head. 

“Everything alright, brother?” Rhys asked, concern flooding his voice. 

But Azriel only smirked and turned back to his brother to begin again. 

“You’ll pay for that later, love” he responded through the bond and could have sworn that he saw you falter in your training from his peripheral vision. 

How could he have let this happen? How could he have not foreseen that you would be taken from him? A mysterious invitation calling for the High Lord and his second in command to attend a party Under the Mountain? What kind of Spymaster couldn’t ascertain the danger that now all-consumed the other half of his soul?

Azriels felt something hit his knees, the sting traveling up to make his teeth chatter. He pulled his hands away from his eyes and saw that he had fallen to the ground of the Townhouse. Cassian quickly knelt in front of him, gripping his shoulders to keep him from total collapse. 

Azriel stared at Cassian and saw his lips moving rapidly, but no words came out. He furrowed his brows in confusion. What was he trying to tell him? 

In fact, Azriel heard no sound at all besides the buzzing silence in his ears and his own mind hurling insult after insult of his own sad excuse of being a mate. 

But wait…that was it. Cassian had turned to the others and Azriel was able to read the words on his lips as he spoke to the remaining Inner Circle in the room: She’s his mate.

All at once, too many voices spoke and the sounds came rushing back to Azriel. As if he would keep him from dissolving through the floor, he gripped onto his found brother for dear life.

“Cassian,” Azriel groaned, finding his voice at last. “Cassian, she’s gone. I can’t feel her.”

“We will get her back, brother. I promise.”

[rainrot4me]

Better Than Him

Summary: Nina wanted nothing more than to impress Jeff. So, as her best friend, she sought your help on how to get his attention. But when a quick lesson on how to kiss turns intense quickly, you feel it's only right to prove to her she's worth more than him.

Characters: Nina the Killer x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Friends with benefits, humiliation, Jeff is a douchebag, inexperienced, teaching, vaginal grinding, tribbing, eating out, overstimulation, first time, revenge, mention of broken bones

Words: 4.3k

As a creep, you knew all too well the weird tendencies that the other members of the mansion had. 

Especially Nina. But she was your best friend, so of course you let her habits slide more than others. But as she lay in your lap, sobbing about how Jeff brushed her off again, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. It was exhausting, truly. Her every waking thought and action seemed to revolve around the pale killer, but you could never understand why.

Jeff was ugly as shit, face all mangled and gnarly. His personality was a drainer to be around, always cussing you out or telling you how shit you were at something. But the worst thing about him was the constant stench of rot that came off of him, the aftermath of him murdering some helpless guy and never showering after. He wasn’t pleasant to you, but no guy in the mansion was. The only one you could stand was Jack, his quiet demeanor was his only saving quality.

You rubbed Nina’s back, cooing some bullshit about how he would come around eventually and how he didn’t deserve her. You honestly couldn’t care less about him, but it was anything to get Nina to hush. She finally sat up, holding your hands as her highlighted hair sat dishevelled on her forehead. “You have to help me.” She gasped out, eyes frantic as she gripped your hands tight, her neon press on nails digging into your skin. You stared at her, confused. “Help you how?” She smiled, her gapped teeth shining bright. 

“Jeff doesn’t pay any attention to me.” You knew that, obviously. “So, I have to impress him somehow. Like, with something he likes.” She grinned, waiting for you expectantly. You tried to wrack your brain of all the crap Jeff has mentioned liking before, but all you could think of was the porn magazines he hid not so well under his bed. You had found them by accident after Jeff stole your guns over some petty argument, that being the first place you thought to look but ending with an even bigger argument than before. It ended with you locked out of his room and his reputation amongst the other guys little to none. But at least you found an answer.

“Listen, Nina, I don’t thi-” She brushed her bangs from her face, eyes wide and pleading. “Oh please, I don’t care. Whatever Jeff likes I’ll be sure to like too.” You groaned, letting go of Nina’s hands and laying back on her bed, her dark room comforting you. Nina wasn’t at all the porn star type, especially not what Jeff was after. He was still mentally stumped as a horny teenager, so any girl wasn’t good enough unless her ass and tits stuck out farther than the rest of her two-inch waist. It was sick, but you knew Nina wasn’t at all what he was going for. The crazy don’t go for even crazier. Nina was just out of cards. You grumbled.

“Jeff is a pervert, alright? Like… only goes after girls that look like supermodels type shit.” You groaned, refusing to look her in the face. The silence was awkward, you only glanced up to see her lost in thought, that same look she got every time she was contemplating something. “Nina-” But she was already up, already pulling her closet open and shuffling through her clothes. You sat up, trying to get a look at what she was searching for before she pulled it out.

It was a tiny pleated skirt, black and leather that was way too tiny for your liking. She tugged down her patterned skirt, your eyes flicking towards the ceiling quickly to not stare as she stripped. When she stumbled over to her full-length mirror in the corner of her room, you glanced back down, cheeks flushing red. She turned in the mirror, getting good luck with the short shirt that barely even covered anything. Her ass was practically out, the miniskirt just centimeters away from showing her clothed cunt as well. Her panties were purple and pink striped, but you didn’t even have to guess. “Oh, this has to work.” She giggled, shaking her tiny ass teasingly as you shook your head, standing up to meet her. 

“Listen, Nina-” But she was already rushing towards the door, swinging it open as the skirt swayed against her pale skin. “I’m gonna go look for Jeff. Wish me luck!” Before you could say anything else she was out in the hallway, skipping down the stairs and out of view. Jeff was going to kill her if you didn’t first.

-

You heard the crying before you even saw her. It hadn’t even been an hour, but you groaned as you sat up on Nina’s bed, already knowing exactly what was coming. You stayed in her room, opting for the comforting space in case something like this did happen. 

Bursting through the door, Nina’s mascara-streaked cheeks were flushed from crying. She fell on top of your lap, you were quick to scoop her up and sit her comfortably against you as she cried into your shoulder. You knew it wasn’t going to work, but you were going to kill Jeff anyway. You rubbed her back, shushing her as she sobbed loudly, her tears soaking into your shirt and making you cringe. It was routine at this point. Nina would storm in crying, come up with some new hope as to how to impress Jeff, and then disappear before starting the whole cycle over. But this time, there were no questions of what she should do or pleas for compliments. She only lay there, face tucked into the crook of your neck and crying softly. You continued to rub her back, wondering what in the world had happened to make Nina, the most talkative girl you knew, stay silent. 

“Nina?” You cooed, pushing her shoulders back to get a look at her face. Her cheeks were flushed, mascara smudged against her eyes and running, her jagged smile anything but happy. “Wanna tell me what happened?” She wiped her eyes, unzipped her jacket and tossed it onto the floor before laying down on the bed, dragging you down to lay next to her. You held her close, the dark room giving a nice blanket of comfort around the two of you.

“Well,” She started, sniffling. “He liked it, I guess.” You were stunned honestly, turning to look at her face as she continued. “He was in the living room with the other guys, so I walked through, hoping I would catch his attention. It did, and he followed me down the hall, pushing me into the bathroom. I kind of panicked, so I asked him to stop. I pushed him off of me, but he kept grabbing me, trying to pull my panties down.” Your blood was boiling, hands already pressed against the couch and ready to storm downstairs and give Jeff a piece of your mind, but Nina held you close, keeping you down. “Eventually, I guess he got tired of me fighting and shoved me off. He told me I was an ugly… an ugly bitch and that I was lucky he didn’t embarrass me in front of everyone.” 

Nina went quiet, holding your waist close as she silently cried. You held her close, staring at the ceiling as anger raged inside of you. You knew Jeff was a prick, but to do this to her was uncalled for. You sat up, brushing Nina off as you stormed to the door, but Nina’s arms quickly wrapped around you, pulling you back to her bed. You groaned, glancing at her as she quietly begged you not to say anything. She didn’t want him more upset than he already was. You wanted to tell her off, but you guessed that was her fangirl talking. But against your better instinct, you sat back down, Nina quick to hold you close again. 

Her crying had subsided, small pitiful whines replacing them as she wiped her mascara. It was breaking your heart. “Nina. You have to understand that Jeff is a sick fuck. If you’re not willing to do whatever he says, you’re no good, alright?” You grumbled, rubbing her smeared eyeshadow off of her eyelid. “But you’re beautiful, gorgeous even. You can’t let a man who’s set in his dumbass ways dictate your feelings.” She nodded quietly, staring anywhere but into your worried eyes. You hoped your words had reached her, but as she sat up, determination in her face, you knew your hopes were already useless. 

“You’re right. Jeff isn’t going to like me if I don’t like what he likes.” You rolled your eyes hard, groaning into your hands. “I have to show him I can do it!” She was hopeless. But at least the girl had determination like nothing you ever saw. Nina turned to you, wrapping her hands around your shoulders, excitement in her eyes. “You have to teach me how to kiss.” 

You were taken back a second, eyes scanning her flushed face for any signs of some joke. But she was dead serious, smile wide and goofy and she held you stiff. “Nina, I-” But she was already pressing closer to you, crisscrossed knees pressed flush against yours. “Listen! You’re my best friend, [Y/N]. I need you to teach me how.” She was pleading, bright eyes begging you. This was becoming awkward, your weight shifting uncomfortably in her hands. But if you knew Nina, she wouldn’t stop, no matter how badly she needed to. 

“Fine.” You gritted, her smile lighting up. “But this is it. I’m done with your dumb Jeff fantasies.” You were stern, but it was the only way you knew she would listen. Nina nodded quickly, her body pressing close eagerly. In truth, you had fucked around with some relationships before becoming a full-fledged creep, but you were no expert in the sport. Nina, on the other hand, was completely clueless. As far as you knew, she was a stone-cold virgin, her obsession with Jeff giving her some fucked up chastity belt for the killer. You figured you would rather her go in somewhat familiar with the whole deal than get laughed out. 

You brushed your hair off your shoulders, focusing in on her as you spoke delicately. “Firstly, just follow me, or, Jeff, I guess. Don’t try to force anything, just let your lips glide with his. He’s probably going to be pretty rough, but I want you to just learn how to go slow first.” It was like teaching someone how to drive, except you were all nervous and hot. Nina didn’t seem fazed as she mentally jotted down what you were telling her, excitement running through her small frame. You smiled nervously, unsure how to initiate the whole thing. “So, I guess just… uhm…” You sat forward, eyes glancing nervously between Nina’s big eyes and her lip-glossed lips, wrapping your hands around her forearms. From this angle, it was almost impossible not to get a full shot of her panties from the tiny skirt she still wore. You blushed, focusing on her before leaning forward, her eyes flicking excitingly at your lips. “Just do what I do…” You mumbled, your lips inches from hers. 

When Nina pressed forward quickly, finally closing the distance, it shocked you. Your heart was pounding in your ears, fingers gripping her arms nervously as you began to slide your lips against her smooth ones. Her lipgloss tasted sweet, both of your eyes fluttering shut as you tried to slowly make out with her. Nina was pressing close, her lips moving just a little too eagerly for your pace, so you had to slow her down. Letting her arms go, you slid your hands on either side of her head, tangling your fingers in her dark hair and angling her head, guiding her lips to move against yours easily. She happily complied, her hands reaching up to cup yours as her lips followed yours nicely. You were making out eagerly, every brush of your lips more electric than you thought it was supposed to be. But you had little time to contemplate your confusion as Nina slid her arms around your neck and swung her leg over your thighs, straddling you as she refused to let off your lips. 

This was quickly spiralling out of control, but when Nina’s little breathy whines broke through every gap in your kissing, your resolve was beginning to melt. Your hands slid to her waist, her thin body pressed close onto yours. You were both breathing heavily, chests pressed against each other as you practically swallowed the other in heavy kisses. This was becoming too much for her, Nina’s whines growing louder as you peeked your eyes open, seeing her brows knitted roughly. You slid your hand against her cheek, pushing her back as you both caught your breath, lips swollen and cheeks red. “Uh-” You panted, quickly becoming aware of the position the two of you were in and growing anxious. Nina only smiled, scanning your face as she caught her breath, wiping her lips off her sweet lipgloss. “I think… I think I need one more example.” She giggled, eyes heavy as she leaned back in slowly. You nodded, unsure of what you were even thinking as you slipped your hand into the back of her hair, fisting it softly. Nina smiled back into the kiss, her lips dancing with yours comfortably. You were just helping her learn. So of course you needed to show her every possible scenario that Jeff was going to throw her way.

At least that’s what you told yourself as you gripped your hands under the thighs, flipping the two of you over and pressing her back into the bed. Nina giggled, her arms gripping your shoulders tight as you pressed against her lips hard, roughly tugging her bottom lip with your teeth. “Jeff’s… probably- ah, probably going to be rough. So you gotta… gotta be ready.” You panted against her lips, placing your arms on either side of her head as you nestled between her legs. She nodded, moving away from your lips to press her swollen lips against the corner of your mouth, pecking slowly down to your neck. You gasped, her sweet chaste kisses sending goosebumps against your skin. “Ah- Nina-”

“It’s okay,” She purred, placing her wet kiss under your chin. “I’m just trying to, ah, see what I should try on Jeff.” You couldn’t protest any logical answer as she slid her hands under your shirt, her cold fingers scratching gently and making you groan. “Yeah… yeah that makes sense…” You whined, Nina’s hands pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it to the side. She pushed your shoulders back, rolling you over so she was straddling your lap again, your back pressed against her bed. “Like, I wonder…” Nina’s face was red as she slid down, her lips pressing sweetly against your chest and down in between your tits. “Would Jeff like this?” You glanced down nervously as she palmed your bra, kneading your tits in her delicate hands. Your face exploded with heat, a small gasp falling from your lips as she pushed your bra up off your tits, letting the mounds fall exposed. You glanced at her nervously, unsure if you should draw a line. This wasn’t a learning experience anymore, this was a horny virgin finally getting to release herself. And who were you, as her best friend, to deny her that feeling?

You let yourself relax, reaching behind your back to unclip your bra and sliding it off your chest, Nina’s eager eyes watching closely. “I don’t know. Maybe try and see if he would…” You purred, Nina leaning down quickly to grip your tit, licking your nipple and sighing at the feeling of the nub on her tongue. “I think Jeff would be sensitive… I would like that…” She cooed, rolling your perky nipples between her cool fingers and purring as you squirmed. She watched you closely, her hips slowly beginning to grind down against your crotch as she took your right tit in her mouth, sucking lazily. You tangled your fingers in her smooth hair, tugging lightly as she sucked and nibbled on your already sensitive flesh. She groaned, brows furrowing as she fought to stay sucking on your tit like a kitten. It was overwhelming, your skin hot and flushed as you squirmed under her. 

When she finally popped off for air, you took your chance and pushed her up, smashing your lips back against her as you tugged on her hoodie, tugging the purple fabric over her head and smiling when she whined. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath, her bare skin and small tits exposed against her pale skin. You leaned forward, her hands pushing on your shoulders as you kissed her chest, pushing her back onto the sheets. Her dark room made her flushed skin look so pretty and supple under your kisses, her skin coming to life with goosebumps as you kissed down further. That stupid miniskirt was riding up, basically covering nothing as you tugged it down her thighs, tossing it to the floor as you spread her knees, her small whines making you blush. The purple and pink panties she wore matched nicely with her thigh-highs, her pale thighs shaking slightly as you smiled at her already evident arousal. “I think,” You cooed, unbuttoning your pants and sliding them down your legs, your dark panties contrasting nicely with hers. “Jeff would enjoy eating you out… Getting you ready before he fucked you…” You grinned, running your thumb along the wet spot on her panties and making her whine behind her hands. She nodded slowly though, letting your hands press her knees apart as you tugged her panties down, careful to keep her thigh-highs rolled up. Your heart was thumping as you nestled between her thighs, Nina’s already dripping cunt pink and cute, just like her. Your own arousal was pounding between your legs, but as a good friend, you had to put her first.

Rubbing your fingers against her clit, you leaned in, teasing her entrance with your tongue. She was already a squirming mess, back arching and knees clasping together as you licked against her folds, tasting her sweet arousal. You rubbed her clit slowly as you dipped your tongue past her entrance, chasing that addicting taste of her. Nina moaned out, her hands tangling in your hair and tugging as you curled against her walls. Her arousal gushed against your tongue, your own pants mixing with her moans as you ate her out eagerly. You couldn’t think straight, Nina’s breathy pleas to go faster making your head spin. It wasn’t long before you were gripping her thighs, nails digging into her pale skin as you tongue-fucked Nina quickly. You moved quickly between flicking your tongue against her sweet clit and dipping past her tight folds back into her warm walls. Her taste was heavenly, your eyes squeezed shut as you begged your tongue to press further, doing anything to hear her sweet moans ring in your head. 

Her hips were bucking, your tongue curling sharply against her tight walls until you felt her cry out, warm arousal rushing against your tongue. You chased her orgasm, lapping up every sweet flavor that danced on your tongue until she was gripping her thighs tightly around your head. You refused to let up, even when her walls clamped so tight you had to move to her clit, you still licked long stripes, relishing in the way her hips bucked against the sensitivity. “[Y/N]! God- please-” She begged, pulling against your hair desperately. But only when you felt like you had tasted every inch of her did you let up, panting heavily as she whined. You slid up her body, wrapping your arm around her waist as you pressed your lips against hers, shoving your tongue into her warm mouth and begging her to taste how sweet she was. “Taste… so good, Nina…” You whined, grinding your clothed cunt down against hers. 

Nina sucked on your tongue, swirling hers into your mouth and swapping spit. You were both groaning, hands rubbing against each other’s bodies until your cunt desperately begged against your panties. You raised up, Nina whining as you let off her mouth but smiling when she saw you sliding your panties off your thighs and onto the floor. “I think…” She panted, tugging you closer to her. “That Jeff would want, uh, a blowjob, right? I think it’s time he got a little rough…” She smiled nervously, tugging you to straddle her face. You smiled eagerly, nodding your approval as you positioned your knees on either side of her head, spreading your throbbing cunt with your fingers and watching as Nina blushed wildly. She was quick to wrap her arms around your thighs and pull you down, shoving her warm tongue against your cunt. You groaned, her tongue sliding against your clit and flicking gently. She tried desperately to mimic your actions, sliding her tongue against your folds before pressing into your entrance, moaning at your taste. Sighing, you sat down further, letting Nina’s tongue lap at your sensitive walls until you were grinding down lowly, hands resting against your thighs to keep yourself steady. Nina was kneading your ass, her nails scratching against your skin as she delved deeper, curling her tongue the best she could. It was heaven, your clit throbbing hard as she moaned against you. 

As much as you would have liked to let her eat you out some more, you needed to feel her, bad. All sense of what Jeff would’ve wanted to be damned, you needed to feel her yourself. Pulling off of her tongue, she whined, chasing your thighs before you laid back against the bed, gripping her arms to straddle your waist. “Need you, Nina… I mean, Jeff- Ah, whatever. I need to feel you.” You groaned, Nina’s heavy eyes watching you carefully as you spread your legs, pushing her hips back until your folds slid against each other. When your clits bumped, Nina moaned, her hands reaching down to grip your tits, rolling the mounds in her hands. You gripped her hips tightly, tugging her hips to rub her sensitive cunt against yours. “Fu- Fuck me… [Y/N], please…” She ground her hips down, riding your cunt easily. You leaned your head back, watching through hooded eyes as Nina pulsed her hips, your clits rubbing against each other roughly until you were both squirming. 

If you had a cock, you’d pound the poor girl, leaving her breathless. But as she stuttered her hips against your soaked cunt, you couldn’t help but push your legs apart further, pressing your hips up against hers. You tugged her hips up off of you, nails gripping her pale skin until you pushed them back down quickly, repeating until you were bounding her hips against yours. Your clits slammed together quickly, both of you crying out at the sensitive impact. You felt her arousal dripping from her cunt, her soaked folds pressing against yours. “Gonna fuck your cute little cunt with mine- Gonna, ah, make you cum way harder than Jeff’s dumb cock could.” You gritted out, every time you pulled her hips down you quickly ground up against her clit, making her cry out. Nina’s fingers fiddled with your nipples, her jaw hanging open as sweet moans spilt from her lips. “Oh, yes- fuck! Make me cum!” She whined, clit bouncing on yours roughly. She was panting hard, her small tits bouncing cutely as she rode your cunt, chasing her orgasm. “Yeah? Go on, Nina. Come on me, let me feel it. Let Jeff know how good it feels.” You coaxed her, teeth gritted as you held her hips down, sensitive nubs rubbing roughly against one another. 

Nina’s eyes rolled hard, her back arching sharply until she was crying out. You felt her warm arousal spill down onto your cunt, her loud moans and whines enough to push you over yourself. Stuttering your hips against hers, you held her tight, arousal crashing into you roughly. You both whined loudly, your grip guiding her hips to slowly grind down against your clit, chasing your orgasm. 

When Nina finally collapsed on top of you, you both breathed heavily, chests heaving as sweat dripped down your cheeks. Nina’s face was flushed and hot, her heavy eyes laying next to yours as you stared at her, admiring her fucked-out expression. You wrapped your arms around her waist, sliding her off of you and to your side, hugging her tightly against your waist. Finally catching your breath, you pressed small kisses against her cheeks, her skin hot under your lips. She smiled softly, heavy eyes evident of her tiredness. You brushed her bangs from her face, tucking her messy hair behind her ear as she snuggled in close to your side, breathing deeply. 

“Get some sleep.” You whispered, pulling the messy sheets over the two of you as your sweaty bodies pressed close. You rubbed her back, sighing as you watched her bright eyes close. Maybe Nina was a hopeless romantic. But as her friend, her best friend, you were always willing to put her first. No matter what. 

-

Nina wouldn’t realize that you had slipped out of bed hours later, her soft snores making you smile as you redressed yourself. She also wouldn’t realize until she woke that Jeff was screaming in agony a couple of yards from the mansion, arguing with you to let him go. 

But when he returned to the mansion with a couple of broken fingers and a black eye, she wouldn’t have to guess who did it.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[blackenedsnow]

Hello! Sorry for the message in Spanish! I think that I have sent the English version :<

Well...I was thinking of shadow sharing apartment or house with a queen of disco (I think it would be very cute the image of shadow sleeping on top of the big hair of a woman almost three times taller than him)

funk

WARNING: None

PAIRING: Shadow the Hedgehog x (Fem) Reader

NOTE: Hey it's not a problem! Thanks for sending this amazing request! It was so much fun writing this scenario lol. I’m always happy to create something special for you!

SUMMARY: Shadow the Hedgehog isn’t one for roommates, but somehow, he ends up sharing a place with you. A disco queen.

The apartment was quiet for once. Well, it was only quiet because you weren’t home yet, but Shadow wasn’t complaining. He didn’t mind the constant hum of disco music playing from your vinyl collection or the way you’d hum along while twirling in your platform shoes. It was just… a lot sometimes.

When you’d first moved in, Shadow hadn’t exactly expected to live with someone so full of life. His world had always been chaos, but yours? Yours was vibrant. You brought glitter, neon colors, and a wardrobe that could blind someone. Still, there was something about the way you lived that intrigued him. You owned the dance floor of life, and Shadow had never seen anyone do that so effortlessly.

He was sitting on the couch when the door finally swung open, revealing you in all your disco glory. Your heels clacked against the hardwood floor as you tossed your bag onto the couch beside him.

“Shadow, you’ll never guess what happened at the club tonight!” you exclaimed, spinning once before plopping down into an oversized chair. Your hair, as big and bouncy as ever, framed your face in a cascade of curls and glittery pins. You looked like you belonged under a spinning disco ball, not in a modest little apartment.

Shadow barely looked up from his book. “I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

“Oh, I will!” you said, leaning forward with excitement. “But first, I need to get these shoes off. My feet are killing me!” You kicked off your platforms, sending one of them clattering against the floor. “Ahhh, much better.”

Despite himself, Shadow cracked the smallest hint of a smile. He’d gotten used to your dramatic flair. Actually, he’d gotten used to a lot of things—like how your hair always seemed to take up half the room when you sat down.

“Anyway, what about you? Did you do anything fun while I was out?” you asked, brushing some glitter off your outfit.

Shadow shrugged. “Nothing worth mentioning. Just the usual.” He closed his book, standing up from the couch and walking past you toward his room. But when he reached the hallway, he paused and glanced back. “You should get some rest.”

You smiled at him, knowing that was Shadow’s way of checking in. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll sleep after I unwind. You go ahead, though.”

A little while later, the apartment was quiet again. You were sprawled out in your chair, half-asleep, while Shadow stood in the doorway to his room, looking at you. There was something oddly calming about the sight of you at rest. Your hair, now fluffed up even more from the night’s events, was almost comically big, framing your face like a soft, glittery pillow.

Shadow shook his head, but a thought crossed his mind. It wasn’t like him to seek comfort, but… maybe, just this once.

Without saying a word, he padded across the room toward you. Your soft breathing filled the space as Shadow climbed onto the back of the chair. He hesitated for a moment, then—gingerly—settled himself on top of your giant curls.

He could feel the softness of your hair beneath him, warm and light, like resting on a cloud. It was absurd, really. The ultimate lifeform, sleeping on a disco queen’s hair. But somehow, in the midst of all the glitter, chaos, and color, it felt right.

You stirred slightly but didn’t wake up, and Shadow relaxed. Maybe disco and darkness could coexist. He could handle the glitter, the music, and the energy—because somehow, you made it all feel like home.

[ultimate-chickennougat]

| Your Salaryman Husband | (Vol 2)

Vol 1 (not required) Vol 3 Vol 4 Vol 5 Vol 6 Vol 7 Vol 8 Vol 9

Salaryman!Kento x Housewife!Reader;

Waking up with Kento Nanami...

Word Count: 1.2k

CW: SFW, domestic fluff, fem!Reader, Nanami's shirtless (nondescriptive)

A/n: I hope to make a 3rd volume soon... this was so fun to write!

There was something so peaceful about the morning. Since marriage, life was full of excitement and pleasures big and small. Former causes of stress had been lifted off your shoulders, all by the love of your life, your dear husband Nanami - something that you would always be grateful for. 

To say that the provided comfort was reciprocated, was certainly believed by Nanami. His disposition on work remained unchanged since you first met, and you had remained his most precious thought, making every troublesome day worth it and fade away. 

Instead, it was only time that still lingered, the tick of a clock and rise and fall of the sun being your constant reminders. In the end, life is short, something that both you and Nanami understood and dreaded. 

That was the reason for sleeping in that morning, in Nanami’s eyes. He knew you were both sore and tired from the day before, and it was only right that the two of you got some much needed time together, as newlyweds. 

Sunlight had started to pour into the room through the large windows, decorating the dressers and chairs away from the bed. It was a sight to behold, the precious space that the two of you decorated together, and of course the face of you, sleeping softly in his arms. 

He couldn’t help but smile at the thought that crossed his mind, closing his eyes. Though he could spend hours listing everything he loved about you, there was one that was particularly apparent at that moment.

Your heat. 

The warm radiating heat of your body, covered in blankets after long hours of sleeping. It was such a wonderful contrast to the coolness from the night before, after you took a quick shower and hopped into bed, clean as you preferred. Feeling cold as usual, you had snuggled in close to his arms as he spooned you, hand resting on your stomach as you drifted off to sleep. 

Now, you were the warm one, and Nanami wouldn’t have it any other way. It was addictive, having your heated squishy form pressed against him when he woke up. In fact, he woke up early every day, just to enjoy that without missing work. 

To get started on the day's tasks, you had to wake up early as well. Nanami left for work promptly at 8:30 AM each morning, and his breakfast and lunch had to be prepared, as well as his outfit and things. Now, this didn’t take nearly as much time as was provided by waking up at 5:30, and the intention of course was so he could sleep in, but that didn’t happen, and in fact it never did.

Something about it being important for Nanami to wake his wife up, with kisses of course, was still floating around in his brain after two months of sleeping in the same bed. He got a good 7 hours of sleep anyway, and dreaming of you still wasn’t as good as the real thing. 

Moving even closer to you, he started his little routine. His arms wrapped around your torso, as he gripped the pink nightgown you had on. Placing his head near your shoulder, he carefully kissed your ear, hearing small murmurs from you.

“Good morning, my cute little wife,” he smiled, kissing your jaw next as you stirred. His breathing got heavier as he felt your hands move to his. “Have I ever told you how much I love you, Y/n?” his head moved down to kiss your shoulder, and then your nose as you held onto his wrist.

You were so perfect, laying with him on your side. Surely you were tired, waking up early every morning when you could sleep in. That was why he had to do it, to wake you up himself and make it as enjoyable as possible. To have his voice be the first thing you hear every day, and to get to inform you of his love, even before you got to work. Of course he enjoyed this as well, another sight that only he has ever seen. 

“Kento…” you murmured, finally awake. This time he pulled you closer to him, lazily throwing his leg over yours and turning your face to make eye contact. “Yes dear?” he whispered back, kissing your forehead. “I love you…” you mumbled incoherently, still half asleep, as you started kicking the blankets off, overheating.

He kissed the top of your head, next. “You’re so warm…” he replied, squeezing you tighter. “I love it,” he couldn’t help but let out a laugh as you squirmed, his words making you feel butterflies. “It’s too early in the morning for that…” you whined, trying to turn away from him, but he stopped you with another kiss. This time, to your lips. 

It was sweet and short, only a few moments passing before he pulled away. “You’re right, my apologies,” he gave you another kiss on the nose. “I’ll save the compliments for later.” You blushed, silently enjoying his groggy voice. It was deep and rough, his tiredness was evident with every word - and you loved the sound. 

“Darling, I should get up now.” You stated, starting to untangle yourself from his grip, but in response it only got tighter. Your eyes were wide, starting to feel awake. “Is it that late already?” He asked, rubbing your stomach lightly, as if he wasn’t the one with the watch. 

He pulled you over to face him, holding you in a hug. Your face pressed against his bare chest, an evident blush covering your face as he kissed your head again. The lack of clothing kept him cool, making it incredibly comfortable in the morning.

He tilted your head up, meeting your eyes. “Just a few more minutes, I’m tired,” he chuckled, feeling as you pushed him away. “Okay just a few more… or else your breakfast won’t be ready,” you groaned at the thought. His lunch could be put together with leftovers in the fridge, and of course he wouldn’t complain, but all the fresh fruit you had picked up the store would go to waste if it wasn’t used up. 

It felt like eternity wrapped in his arms, hearing his deep and slow breaths, the sound of his heart beating, and feeling the rise and fall of his chest as you laid your head on it. 

So much so that you didn’t realize it had only been thirty minutes by the time you worked up the will to ask. 

“Darling?” You spoke softly, reaching up to give him a kiss yourself. “It’s 6:08, if you’re curious.” He responded, seeing you stare at his wrist. “Thank you, for this.” He pressed his lips onto yours, still just briefly, finally allowing you to get up. The downside to this morning arrangement, in Nanami’s opinion, was that he was awake. You took care of everything he needed to do in the morning, brewing his much needed cup of coffee and picking out his clothing, so that all he had to do was get up and move around, saving his energy for work. But what was the point of being laying in bed when you were gone? 

You pushed the covers off your legs, quickly standing up off the bed as to not get drawn back in. Nanami sat up as well, resting against the headboard. Luckily, he still had the view of you rummaging through his closet, still all tired and in your nightgown, asking him sweetly about his activities for that day to choose the perfect tie. 

Now he was definitely not going back to sleep. 

[avastrasposts]

Bona Dea - part 3

Plot: Stumbling through a dark town, general Marcus Acacius encounters the festival of Bona Dea. But what at first seems like just a pleasurable way to spend the night leaves a greater impression on him than he counted on. Part One Part Two

General Marcus Acacius x female reader

Warnings: Blood and violence, a brief SA, explicit smut (not the SA). No use of y/n, the reader is pretty much a blank slate if you're a Roman noble lady in 2nd century Tuscany?

Word count: 9.5k

A/N: I'm back with part three of Bona Dea! If you haven't read parts One and Two, you probably should to understand the plot. There are a few points about Roman society, especially women's role in it. In a very archaic way, daughters remained under the lawful rule of their fathers even after they married. This meant that if a father found out his daughter was unfaithful to her husband, he was allowed to kill her. There are no historical sources of this happening, but the thought alone... A few notes on the Latin. I think most of it is pretty self-explanatory but just in case: Carrisme - dearest or sweetest Letica - a vehicle, a litter used for carrying people Caligae - sandals used by Roman soldiers, studded with metal on the sole. When walking on a hard surface, they make a clattering sound Puella - young girl Vita mea - my life

After Marcus had left you, sleeping in the bed of the room he’d brought you to, you’d slumbered for a little while before waking up and making your way back to the bedroom where Alba was still sleeping. The next morning, you asked for the letica to be brought forward, and you returned to your own villa with Alba without seeing Marcus again. There were no officers around the villa at all and Alba quietly wondered if they’d all returned to the camp outside the city walls to prepare for their march to Rome. She glanced at you as she said it, but you didn’t respond, just stepping into the letica and turning away from the empty courtyard. You were torn, wanting to see Marcus, but also sure how you’d keep your composure in front of him if he came to bid you a formal farewell. There was so much left unspoken between you, so many questions you wanted answers too, but you didn’t know if you could demand them from him. He seemed to care, but the difficulty of your situation was not easily navigated. Did he think it was worth the trouble? How much were you really worth to him? The thought burrowed itself into your brain as you travelled back home in silence. 

As predicted, your husband was in a foul mood, hungover and still recovering from the bad oysters. He was also displeased with how little attention the great general Acacius had given him. Called to his room, you found him still in bed, pale and clammy as the physician prepared a draught. 

“What did the general say last night after I left?” he demanded of you, “Did you find out if he has a wife or a sister you can befriend? We need to secure an invitation to his villa in Rome!” With an impatient hand he grabbed the proffered cup and waved away the physician. 

“He has no wife as far as I know, and no sister was mentioned,” you replied, waiting patiently with your hands folded in front of you at the foot of the bed. You could feel one of Marcus’ love marks on your wrist and you prayed it wasn’t showing a bruise. The ache between your legs was already a constant reminder of the two nights you’d spent with him. 

“Well, when are they leaving? We’ll invite the officers here as soon as possible, tomorrow night,” your husband took a sip of the draught and grimaced, his hand clasping his stomach as he winced, “Fuck those oysters, I’ll find out who sold them to Acacius and have them flogged.” 

“I heard mention that the army is marching to Rome today, husband,” you said, and with a dramatic groan your husband fell back against the pillows, waving you away without a glance. 

You happily left, there was an ache in your heart too, not just your body. Marcus was on his way to Rome and he’d left a big gaping wound behind. You didn’t know if you’d ever see him again, he hadn’t left a note or a message. His feelings, which had been so clear last night when he whispered them to you, in the stark light of day were harder to hold on to. Had he meant it all? Or was he just caught up in the moment, drunk on both wine and lust? And all you could do was hope that your husband would soon travel to Rome and take you with him. There was no way of getting a message to Marcus without arousing suspicion, and how would you even word such a note? There was no circumstance under which a married woman could communicate innocently with a man outside of her family, least of all a celebrated general. It all seemed hopeless. 

If his officers noticed that their general was quieter than usual as they rode out to the camp, they didn’t mention it. He rode at the front, flanked by the standard bearer, but apart from surveying the landscape around him, a die hard habit from years in enemy territory, he was silent, deep in thought. He’d made a promise, as much to himself as to her, to see her again, to not let that night be the last. But how he was to achieve that, he hadn’t been able to solve yet. 

Titus Cassian Aurelius has served under general Acacius for nearly three decades. They’d first met long before Marcus was the celebrated general he was today. They’d come up through the ranks together, but because of his low birth, Titus would never make general. It didn’t bother him, he served as Marcus’s right hand man and made sure his orders were followed in camp when Marcus left. Marcus was the military genius, Titus made sure day to day was working, keeping the soldiers and the camp in shape. Together they were an almost perfect Roman unit. And when Marcus dismounted his horse and handed the reins to the stable slave outside the general’s tent, Titus knew immediately something was bothering his old friend. 

“General Acacius, good to have you back. The men are ready to march,” he said, following Marcus into the tent. It was almost bare, stripped and waiting for the final marching order from the army’s general. 

Marcus grunted in reply and draped his heavy cloak over a chair in the corner, the only remaining piece of furniture. With a sigh he rubbed a hand over his face, contemplating how he’d breach the topic with his most trusted advisor. Matters of the heart was not usually something they discussed, the only women they’d met in the past two years were the whores who inevitably followed the army, and the discussion had been mainly about their lack of hygiene. 

Now Marcus turned to Titus with a furrowed brow and he, in turn, raised his in question. 

“Is something the matter, Marcus?” he asked. In private, they used their first names with each other, a sign of their long and deep friendship. Marcus often felt immense gratitude for Titus, the support it was to have someone he could trust with his life at all times, and now was no exception. There was no one else he could’ve brought this up with. 

“I fear I’ve got myself in trouble while camped in the town,” he said with a wry smile, “a woman, nonetheless.” 

“A woman?” Titus looked surprised, this was not what he’d expected of their general, and he took a step closer as Marcus began to pace the tent. 

“Yes, a woman, a very special woman,” he sighed, “she takes up a great deal of space in my head, and even more in my heart and I don’t know what to do.” 

“Who is she?” 

“The wife of a local business man, a foul man, base and ignoble, and he treats her badly,” Marcus answered, clenching his fists tightly as Titus looked concerned. 

“A married woman, brother?” 

“Yes, unfortunately. Although I didn’t know it when we first met, she wasn’t with her husband and she didn’t mention him. And after I met him, I understood why.” He rolled his eyes at Titus, “He’s an oaf. Last night we hosted a dinner for the local dignitaries and he was there with her. Most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, as if Venus had stepped down among mortals, but he barely spoke a word to her all night and when he did, it was only to insult her intelligence,” Marcus made a face of distaste and shook his head, “He was like a leech, trying to attach himself to anyone with more power and influence than him, and yet he had the most captivating and intelligent woman sitting next to him all night, but he gave her nothing but sour looks.” 

“Last night only? How did she get you into trouble in just one night?” 

Marcus grimaced, it wasn’t his way to brag about sexual conquests and he cleared his throat in unease as Titus waited for an answer. 

“They have an unusual way of celebrating Bona Dea in this town,” he began, “the night before last, as I left the thermae, I found the town deserted, not even the lamps had been lit. Lost in the dark, I stumbled on to her villa and was pulled inside by a group of women celebrating the night...” Marcus gave a small chuckle at the memory, “You see, Titus, any man who’s found outside on that night is free game for the women, to do whatever they want with.” 

“Whatever they want?” Titus laughed in surprise as he caught on, “You mean, anything at all?” 

“I mean anything,” Marcus confirmed, “I passed a brothel and the leno told me a story of a man being made to fuck a goat!” 

“Gods…” Titus laughed, shuddering at the thought, “Please don’t tell me you were made to fuck any animal?” 

“Thankfully, no. Someone did float the idea around, but it was passed over out of concern for the goat.” 

Titus laughed as Marcus grinned, “It was an interesting experience though. They blindfolded me as soon as I came inside, told me the rules and stripped me naked.” 

Titus eyes nearly fell out of his sockets, “Please, go on, and tell me you got to fuck some of these women?” 

“I did, I don’t want to be crass about it, but it was certainly an experience.” 

“And the woman, Venus as a mortal? Did you…?” 

“Yes, it was her house and she was in charge, when the younger girls had fallen asleep, I spent the night with her,” Marcus sank down on the chair and ran his hand through his hair, “She had a presence that drew me to her, even when I was blindfolded, the way she took charge, ordering me to touch her…” Marcus trailed off, lost in thought and Titus drew a deep breath. 

“Gods, I wish I’d joined you in town, Marcus!” he chuckled, “You had an adventure most men would only dream about.” 

“And it didn’t do me much good. Now I can’t get her out of my head and I’m at a loss about what to do!” Marcus groaned, “I tried staying away, but when she came to the dinner last night, I was nearly struck dumb. And before I knew what I was doing, I took a great risk and sought her out as she went to relieve herself. I had to know if she felt even a fraction of what I felt after our night.”

“And did she?” Titus asked, looking at Marcus with concern, he’d never seen his friend so frustrated and lost over a woman before. In fact, he’d never seen him this lost before at all. Marcus' great strength as a commander was that he never lost his way, he always knew what was needed, even if the road to get there was difficult and hard. He was never without a plan and then two or three contingency plans, mapping the road to his victory and taking every possible pitfall into consideration. But now he seemed to flounder as he talked about a woman who’d so clearly captured his heart.

“She does, how I don’t know, but she does. She told me and then she showed me with her actions. By chance, or intervention of the gods, she had to stay the night at the villa we commandeered in town. We spent the night together again, and things were said that makes me believe she feels just as deeply for me as I do for her. But how can I be with her? She’s married!” 

Marcus slumped in the chair and sighed deeply, “We march to Rome today, and then she’ll be lost to me forever and I think I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.” 

Titus narrowed his eyes as Marcus rubbed a hand over his face, sighing deeply again. 

“Delay the march, I have an idea, brother,” Titus said after a few moments of silence, “You say this husband of hers is greedy and power hungry, let’s use that against him.” 

“Delay the march? We need to be in Rome in a few days, we’re expected by the emperors.” 

“I’ve planned for delays, we were due to arrive three days early if we leave today. We’ll just arrive two days early if we stay here another night, it won't make a difference.” 

Titus gave his old friend a bright smile, “Come on, I haven’t met this woman yet, but if she’s got the great Marcus Acacius on his knees, she must be truly special and that I can’t let you give up on.” 

When evening came, your husband was feeling better, but still remained in his private bedroom rather than come to the one he shared with you. Grateful for small pleasures, you still tossed and turned throughout the night. It had never been easy to be married to a man you didn’t love, but it had been convenient. As long as you could put up with his occasional visits and demands for his marital rights, you led a comfortable life and saw little of him. But now, with Marcus invading your every thought, it became impossible to feel content with the life you had. You could feel his hands on you whenever you moved, small bruises and marks littering your body from the two nights you’d spent with him, reminding you of him as the night dragged on. 

It was foolish, you didn’t know the man, not really. You’d seen him surrounded by his men and guests during one evening, spent two incredible nights in bed with him, but all that fueled your passion for him was lust. The way he made you feel when he put his mouth, his hands, on you, it drove all rational thought from your mind. Yet you felt yourself standing on the verge of throwing all you had away for him, for the opportunity to be close to him again. There was a deeper connection there, you felt certain of it. 

When morning came, you were heart broken and exhausted, picking at the food the household slaves put out. Your husband came through and nibbled on some dry bread before he called for the letica and headed out. A message had been delivered early and he was called away on business. 

Grateful to be alone, you withdrew to the gardens at the back of the villa, where the cool water of the fountain kept the air fresh. Alba hovered nearby, but she sensed your mood and stayed quiet, working diligently at her embroidery. You wandered around the garden, absentmindedly tending the late blooming flowers that still showed their colours in late December. The wilted heads were plucked off and tossed aside as your thoughts drifted to Marcus despite your best efforts to push him to the very back of your mind. Each snap of the dry stalks felt like another rejection of any hopes you had of seeing him again. 

“Domina, excuse me,” one of your servants had approached on soft feet and startled you with their deferential interruption, “General Acacius is here to see Master Lunaris but he has not yet returned so the general asked to see you instead.” 

“General Acacius?” you asked, managing at the very last moment to keep your tone neutral, “show him to the reception room, I’ll be right there.” 

The servant bowed and hurried off and you went in search of Alba. You needed her in the room with you, you could not let the servants see you alone in a room with a man, but Alba would be discreet. 

“Alba, come here, quickly!” you called to her when you spotted her on one of the low marble benches, “He’s here!” you hissed as you got close. Alba’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, she knew who you meant without needing to guess and she gasped. 

“He’s here? I thought the army left yesterday morning? Why has he come back?” 

“I don’t know, but he’s here and I need you in the room with me, and we need to make sure the servants don’t hear anything, come.” 

You smoothed your hands over your dress and then your hair. You were a tired mess after your sleepless night and with quick movements you pinched your cheeks to brighten your skin. As you stopped in the hall outside the reception room, Alba rearranged your dress and covered your hair. 

“I’ll tell the servants to leave, make sure no one comes in while he’s here,” you whispered to her and she gave you a quick nod. 

Marcus was standing in the middle of the room, studying the mosaic on one of the walls, his hands clasped behind his back. The dark fabric of his tunic strained across his wide shoulders underneath his armour, his sword belt hung low on his hip, he was dressed for travelling.

“General Acacius, what an honour to have you in our home,” you approached him with your head bowed and only glanced up when he turned to you. He bowed low in return and swept his cloak to the side. 

“I came to see your husband, but I hear he is away on business,” Marcus replied, “I have information for him, but I trust I can pass it on to you?” 

“Yes, of course, general,” you answered, hardly daring to meet his eyes as your mind reeled trying to figure out what information he might have for your husband. Marcus was fully in his official role, his voice commanding and curt, his hands still clasped behind his back as he stood straight, his eyes never wavering from you or betraying any emotion except a slight impatience at having to deal with the wife of the man he’d come to see. 

“Leave us,” you called to the two servants hovering at the edge of the room, “Alba, you stay, and pour us some wine.” 

The two household servants scurried out of the room and Alba served you both wine from the amphora that was always kept in the reception room for any visitor. You sat down on one of the sofas and Marcus sat down opposite. Alba placed the cups next to you and then retreated to the doorway of the room, close enough to see you, and stave off any accusations of being alone with a man, but far away enough for you to have a private conversation. 

“I apologise for turning up like this, without warning,” Marcus said, his voice suddenly softer, no longer bearing a stern edge as he leaned forward, his hand briefly landing on your leg, “I made up an excuse to keep the army camped here for another few days, I had to see you again.” 

“I couldn’t sleep at all last night, the very thought of you already being so far away from here…” you replied, your voice filled with emotion as you saw how warmly he smiled at you.

“You’ve truly cast a spell on me, carrisime,” he whispered, moving to sit next to you on the sofa, his hand falling to your waist, and you leaned into him, the pull of him irresistible. 

“You’re lucky my husband was called away on business, he almost never leaves the house before noon,” you mumbled as Marcus leaned his head closer, his strong nose brushing over your cheek. 

“Yes, the gods are smiling at me,” he mused, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing the soft skin as he captured your mouth and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. You felt yourself melt into him, his warm hand on your waist, bringing you closer, his other hand, large and calloused on your cheek, holding you in place as he nudged your lips apart, letting his tongue find yours. With a sigh you opened your mouth and let him take as much as he wanted, all other thoughts disappearing from your mind. Marcus groaned softly into you, pulling you closer as his kiss grew more heated, his hand slipping to your hip and tugging at you to come up into his lap. 

“Marcus, not here,” you protested, putting your palms against his solid chest plate, feeling the ridges of Medusa’s hair under your fingers. 

“Your servant girl won’t say anything, will she?” he asked, glancing over at Alba who was standing in the doorway with her back to you both. 

“No, but someone else might come,” you said, shaking your head as he took your hand and stood up. 

“Come, let’s find a more secluded spot then,” he smiled, pulling you to your feet. 

“Marcus, we can’t, it’s too risky,” you replied, but he only smiled wider and made you follow him, a firm grip on your hand as he winked at Alba and checked that the coast was clear. He hurried down the hallway and quickly turned a corner. Following the familiar layout of almost all Roman villas, he led you towards the thermae, the warmer air enveloping you as he pushed the door open. 

“No one will come in here until your husband is home,” he chuckled, pulling you inside as he wrapped his arms around your waist, “only you and me, my domina.” 

“Marcus…” you protested weakly, but he grinned with an almost boyish charm, a mischievous look in his eyes as he continued to walk you into the room, stopping only when the back of your legs came up against one of the two slabs of marble used for massages. With a swift motion, he lifted you up onto the flat surface and made room for himself between your legs. 

“I needed to see you before I left, and I need to make sure you’ll come to Rome,” he mumbled, pressing wet kisses to your neck as his hands began to caress your thighs, sliding up under your stola, “Will you come to Rome once I’m back there?” 

“How, Marcus?” you asked with a breathless moan, tilting your head back to make room for him as he nipped and licked at your skin. This was too dangerous, too exposed even in the thermae, but Marcus’s hands were kneading at your hips, grabbing at your behind as he rolled his hips into yours. The evidence of his arousal was pressing into your core and you could feel your own arousal building, liquid heat beginning to fill your cunt, “I can’t go on my own, my husband would never allow it.” 

“Then I’ll invite him, make up some reason,” he replied, his calloused hand leaving your hip and sliding up along the inside of your thigh as he spread you open, “Now, tell me, will you let me feel you come on my cock one more time? Is she ready for me, domina?” 

He tugged your undergarment loose and locked eyes with you, watching your face as he softly caressed his fingers through your wet folds with a low growl. The sensation forced all other thoughts from your head, Marcus’s dark eyes, his steady gaze on you, and the tremors that rushed through your body when he brushed over the apex of your sex, it turned you liquid and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him to your lips. 

After that, it was all just Marcus, filling your senses, taking over as you yielded to him; his soft curls under your hands, the hard edges of his armour pressed against your chest, his deep rumbling voice as he mumbled against your lips. You whined in protest when he removed his hand from your wet folds, but then the thick head of his cock breached your entrance, making you keen and and moan as he filled you up, snapping his hips and driving himself deep inside your cunt. 

“Domina…” he growled, his pliant lips claiming your mouth between gasps of air and mumbled words, “I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, the wine tastes like vinegar, ever since I met you…carrisime…I need you in Rome with me…” 

He was taking his time with you, his large hand warm across your back as he kept you where he needed you, his mouth never leaving yours for more than a few mumbled words as he slowly, meticulously, slid his cock in and out of your slick cunt, slowly building your orgasm with every thrust. 

A call from somewhere inside the villa made you snap your head up, turning towards the door, but Marcus’s hand found your jaw and he pulled you back to his mouth. 

“Stay with me, carrisime, let me feel you, so tight and wet for me, let me fuck you and fill you up just the way you like it.” 

He sped up a little, his hand sliding down between your legs and found your small pearl, swollen and aching for his attention. 

“Marcus,” you cried, gasping as he began circling his, sending white hot lightning bolts through your limbs, “Oh gods, Marcus…” 

You were being too loud, at the back of your mind you felt fear trickling down your spine, but Marcus edged you on, driving his thick cock through your heat, his fingers finding a rhythm that seemed to take your breath away as your head tipped back. 

“There it is, domina, such a tight little cunt for me, squeezing me so hard,” he growled, “let me hear how good I make you feel, let me fuck you like this every day for the rest of my life, make you mine, my domina.” 

His words made your mind buzz, his fingers, his cock making pleasure cloud your mind, taking over every sense. 

With a crash the door to the thermae burst open and you cried out with shock. Marcus drove himself into you again, growling loudly. In panic you scrambled to get away from him, pushing at his chest plate but it made no difference, he snapped his hips one more time, and turned his head to look at your husband.

“Wife!” Lunaris yelled from the doorway, his voice close to hysteria as you furiously pushed at Marcus, but it was like pushing a giant boulder, he wouldn’t budge. 

“Lunaris,” Marcus huffed, still looking at your husband, but his face was not the one of a man caught balls deep in another man’s wife. Instead he wore a face of triumphant satisfaction as he stilled his hips, “Come back a bit early from your business I see.” 

“Marcus,” you hissed, fear crawling up your throat, your voice breaking on the last syllable of his name. He didn’t look at you, but you felt his hand on your back begin to caress you gently, a small, calming motion with his warm hand, out of sight from Lunaris. 

Lunaris seemed to stumble into the room, and you saw Alba’s wide eyed face behind him, her mouth hanging open in shock. Lunaris was hissing, grabbing onto one of the pillars as if for support, as he glowered at Marcus, struggling to spit any words out.

Marcus gently squeezed your hip and finally pulled out, adjusting his armour, the pteruges falling back in place as he turned fully to Lunaris who still looked as if he was choking on his own tongue. Behind Marcus’s back you scrambled to adjust your stola and slide off the marble slab. You moved to leave, but his hand shot out, taking your arm and pulling you to his side. 

“You know who I am, Lunaris, and I want your wife. Divorce her, free her from this miserable marriage you’ve imprisoned her in. And if it’s her will, let her come to Rome with me.” 

Marcus's voice cut through the haze of the thermae, through Lunaris pathetic stuttering, his tone commanding and sharp. From the corner of your eye you could see his jaw tighten, his eyes simmering with barely contained contempt for your husband, who was still struggling to catch up to the events of the past minute. 

“Di-divorce her?” he sputtered out, finally finding his voice again, “I’ll have her killed, tell her father what she’s done and have her killed for the shame she’s brought upon his house! Whore!” 

The last word he yelled at you, spit flying from his mouth as he rushed forward, raising his hand to strike you, but Marcus caught his hand and shoved him away. 

“You will not touch her again,” he growled, glaring down at Lunaris, pulling himself up to his full height, “She is no longer yours to command. Divorce her and I will refrain from breaking every bone in your body.”  

The sight of the Roman general in full armour, eyes black with cold fury, seemed to pull Lunaris out of his outrage, stumbling over his feet and his back hitting the marble pillar again. 

“I have witnesses!” he yelled, “Alba, you saw it all! Guards!” Lunaris screamed the last word over his shoulder. 

You looked at Alba, her hand over mouth in shock as she met your eyes, and you shook your head, willing her to back away and not be pulled into this disaster. Your heart filled with fear when she instead stepped into the room and shook her head at Lunaris. 

“I saw nothing, I’ve only seen the domina speaking with the general, he came to the villa looking for you, dominus.” 

“Liar!” Lunaris screamed, launching himself at her just as four of the household guards rushed into the room. He pulled up short at the sight of them, and Alba scrambled out of his way, seeking shelter behind the guards. Lunaris snarled at her and turned to Marcus, pointing an accusing finger at him and opening his mouth to shout something, but Marcus beat him to it. 

“Lunaris!” he snapped, his voice commanding attention, “Think very carefully about my offer, and what I have the power to do,” his voice was a warning, as was his very rank, a general of Rome compared to a small-time business man in a provincial town, far from the power of the capital, “Consider the consequences before you make any decision.” 

Marcus gave your arm a quick squeeze of his hand before he let it go and stepped forward to Lunaris, dropping his voice to a low, dangerous register. 

“I will leave now, but I will come back for what is mine, and I warn you to not do any harm while I’m away.” 

He spun on his heel to face you, giving you a sharp bow, before he turned and strode to the door. The guards, seeing his armour and status, stepped to the side and let him leave unchallenged while Lunaris seethed, glaring at you. 

The thermae was silent while Marcus’s footsteps echoed away through the hallway and fear crept into your body at the look on Lunaris’ face. Marcus had warned him against hurting you, but you didn’t trust Lunaris, or your father. Your honour was tied to your father’s family honour, if Lunaris told your father about Marcus, he had the right to punish you, even put you to death. But he could also throw you from the family, remove your family name and doom you to a life of poverty or enslavement. You’d be worth nothing, even Marcus, with all his glory for Rome, wouldn’t be able to take you in if your father disowned you. 

“Leave us!” Lunaris finally snapped, dismissing the guards with a wave, “You too, you lying little bitch, I’ll deal with you later,” he snarled at Alba who threw you a terrified look before hurrying out of the room. 

You kept your eyes on your feet as the guards shuffled out and the door closed behind Alba. Lunaris was staring at their retreating backs before he rounded on you and grabbed your wrist, his fingers digging into your bones. You tried to pull away but he shoved you backwards, pushing you against the marble slab, still with a hard grip on your arm. 

“You fucking whore, I should’ve known, opening your legs for a general at the first chance. You and your father were always clambering for you to marry a powerful man. Your father practically threw you at me, for all the good it’s done me, no children, no business deals, just a frigid dry cunt,” he spat out, his putrid breath washing over you as he put himself in your face, the sharp marble edge digging into your back, “But now you’ve found a fucking general, that makes you wet, huh?” 

He shoved his hand down, trying to grab between your legs, and you squirmed out of his way. 

“I’ll tell Acacius!” you cried out, “If you touch me, I’ll tell him!”

“Oh, you think you have the protection of the mighty general now do you?” Lunaris snarled, “Think he’ll come running to save your virtue after you’ve let him fuck you like one of the camp whores?” He pushed his knee between your thighs, forcing you to part your legs and he grabbed your sex over the stola with a rough hand, “You’re just another warm cunt to pass his time with, he’ll forget about you once he’s back in his favourite whore house in Rome,” Lunaris grimaced in distaste and shoved you to the side, making you stumble before you caught yourself against the wall, “Pathetic woman, don’t you know he can have any woman in Rome, they’ll be throwing their youngest and most beautiful daughters at him when he returns. What’s he going to do with an old, withered up whore like you?” 

Lunaris was sneering at you as you backed up, pressing yourself against the damp mosaic wall, “I have half a mind to throw you out on the street right now,” he spat, “but he won’t get away that easily.” 

He looked at you for a few moments, you could see the cogs of his slow brain turning as he went over his options. You knew him well enough to know that Marcus’ threat had scared him, but you also knew he’d try to turn it against him somehow. You wished you could warn Marcus even though he must know Lunaris would try to get back at him.  

“Guards!” Lunaris suddenly yelled, his eyes still locked on you as the sound of clattering caligae could be heard out in the hallway. 

“Take the domina to her room and post a guard outside. She’s not allowed to leave under any circumstances.” 

Left in your room without Alba, the rest of the day and the night moved at a snail’s pace. You paced back and forth, trying to listen to the noises of the villa to decipher what was going on. Lunaris left, but when you tried to sneak from your room, the guard ordered you inside and made no secret of what measures Lunaris had told him to use. By the time you fell into an uneasy sleep, most of the night had already passed. 

The dreams that rushed in and out of your angstful mind were frightening, you tossed and twisted in your sheets as Marcus turned his back on you, time and time again as you ran after him. In your dreams he marched away from your husband’s villa without as much as a glance at you, Lunaris cackled as he shut the door behind your back. As you ran after Marcus, the army stretched out, an endless line of marching soldiers with impassive faces, filing past you as Marcus disappeared over the horizon. The soldiers kept marching through your dreams, a never ending clatter of caligae on the paving stones, and when you woke, heavy rain was falling outside, rattling the roof tiles. 

A servant had left you dinner the day before, and now they returned with breakfast. You forced yourself to eat a little and then slumped back onto your bed, waiting for whatever Lunaris would do next. You knew he was plotting and planning something and he didn’t disappoint, just before dinner he came to your room, a triumphant look on his face. 

“So, wife, it turns out your whoring might actually have done some good,” he gloated, practically prancing around your room as you stood by the bed, watching him with weary eyes, “First bit of good that cunt of yours has ever given me.” 

He grinned and rubbed his hands together, chuckling at his own joke as you winced at the way his facade had fallen. He’d never been a pleasant man, but out of fear of your father, he’d still treated you with respect, even when you didn’t give him any children. Not that you knew how his infrequent visits to your bedroom or his pitiful rubbing against you would ever produce a child. Too late for all of that now anyway. Now he was gloating, gleeful in your downfall and inwardly you cursed yourself for letting yourself give in to Marcus in such a public place. 

“I’ve been to see your ‘lover’,” he grinned even though the word came out with contempt, “told him he can puff himself up all he wants, when word gets out that he’s been fucking a married woman, no amount of glory on the battlefield will save him, the law’s the law and I’ll have half his property,” Lunaris smirked at you with a greedy look in his eyes, “I hear his villa in Rome is on the Palatine and the grandest one seen in a century.” 

“What did you do?” you asked with trepidation and Lunaris’s eyes shone with malice as he rubbed his hands. 

“He’s giving me his villa, and a hefty bag of gold as soon as he’s back in Rome, and in return, I won’t tell the Senate about him fucking a married woman and I won’t tell your father. I’ve given orders to pack up the house, we’re leaving tomorrow and the household will follow in a week.” 

You stared at Lunaris, the grin on his face flaunting his glee at what he’d blackmailed the mighty general into giving him. 

“Finally, some real status!” he crowed, “Might even try to get into the Senate with Acacius’ money, and I’ll need a new wife of course,” he smirked at you again, “something young and pretty with a wet cunt to give me sons.”

He chuckled and turned to leave the room, but changed his mind as he got to the door. 

“Do you know what the best thing about the whole deal is?” he asked, not waiting for an answer before he continued, “It’s that you won’t even get him, I’m keeping you!” Lunaris winked at you with a malicious glint in his eye, “I don’t tell the Senate, he gives me money and the villa, and I get to keep you. Because after all that, he doesn’t even want you.” 

You felt your throat close up, tightening when tears threatened to rise in your eyes as Lunaris cackled with delight, “Don’t worry, you’ll be taken care of, the new villa will need plenty of slaves.” 

And with that, Lunaris left the room, shutting the door tight. Through it you could hear his instructions to the guard to not let you leave. Frozen to the spot you squeezed your eyes shut, breathing hard through your nose as bile rose in your throat. The sharp burning jerked you into motion, with a gasp you fell to your knees and emptied the day's food into the pot, retching as it tore through your body. 

You had to stay in Lunaris’s household, Marcus had given you up, given in to your husband’s blackmail to preserve his own status and honour, and he’d given you up to protect himself without a thought at what you’d suffer for it. You’d staved off the tears for the past two days, but now they overwhelmed you, grief tore at your heart as you curled up on the bed, sobs shaking your frame at the unfairness of it all. 

You felt, and probably looked, like a husk of your former self as the carriage left the villa the next day. Your cosmetae had applied some colour to your cheeks and hollow eyes, but it couldn’t hide the reflection that looked back at you in the mirror. Eyes red rimmed from crying, your lips chapped and broken as you continued to chew on them, and most of all, the haunted look that made the slaves look away from you as you walked through the villa one final time. 

As you were still Lunaris’ wife, and no one knew what had happened between you and Marcus, you rode in Lunaris' carriage. You dug your fingernails into the palms of your hands as Lunaris continued to brag about how glorious his new life would be, the long road to Rome stretching before you. He would gloat and crow the whole way, you were sure of it. Alba sat in the seat across from you, her gaze mostly on her hands, but every now and then she’d throw a quick look at you. Her eyes were as worried as yours, but you didn’t know what fate awaited her when you got to Rome. Lunaris hadn’t said and you hadn’t had a chance to talk to her in private. 

It was a five day journey to Rome, and the wide, paved Roman road made travelling easy. The death of emperor Marcus Aurelius almost thirty years ago meant Pax Romana had ended and travel was more perilous now than before, but this close to the very heart of the empire, not much threatened those who travelled with armed guards. The clatter of the guards’ horses in front and behind the two carriages lulled you into a numb stupor as the winter bare landscape slipped past. 

On the third day you stared listlessly out through the small gap in the shutters of the carriage door, Lunaris had finally grown bored of taunting you and slipped into a slumber, his head lolling back and forth on his weedy shoulders. 

“Will General Acacius come for you when we get to Rome?” Alba whispered, glancing anxiously at Lunaris who slept lightly. 

“I don’t think we’ll ever see the general again,” you replied in a low voice without turning to look at her, “he’s given in to Lunaris’ blackmail to save his own skin.” 

“I can’t believe he’d do that, not when-”  

Her word was cut short by the loud thump of something striking the carriage door hard. You both looked up at the source of the sound and gasped as you saw a vicious looking arrowhead poking through just a mere handswidth from your head. 

“Bandits!” one of the guards roared, “form up, protect the carriages!”

Lunaris jerked awake and whipped his head around as if he could see through the carriage walls as the sounds of battle grew loud outside. You put your hands out for Alba and pulled her to your side, wrapping your arms around her as you sank down to the floor, covering both your heads with your hands. She was sobbing against you as metal hit metal and men screamed outside. It felt like it went on forever but in reality, it was over in a few minutes, someone cried out in agony and then their voice was suddenly silenced, replaced by only the sounds of footsteps outside. The door of the carriage was thrown open and a rough looking man, a vicious cut over his nose, looked in. Glancing over the three of you, he grabbed Lunaris and yanked him out. Lunaris yelled in fright, but he was helpless against the bandit who threw him onto the rough stones. 

A second man leaned in and grinned, his hand shooting out, snatching at your hair and dragging you out too. You cried out in pain and fear, tumbling through the carriage door, the rough hold on your hair making your scalp sting. The man didn’t throw you to the ground, instead he grabbed your arms and pinned them behind your back, holding you tight as you faced the rest of the bandits. There were only three, but your husband’s four guards lay dead on the road side. The two drivers had their hands over their heads, clearly not prepared to die in defending property that wasn’t their own. 

“You owe a debt to Asinius Magnus,” the first bandit told Lunaris who’d been forced to kneel on the road, his neck exposed with the bandit behind him, a long blade in his hand. “Consider it paid in full.” 

You turned your head, but you couldn’t shut out the gasp Lunaris let out as the blade sliced open his throat or the gargling of the blood rushing forth. His body made a dull thump as it fell to the ground. 

“Search both carriages, take what valuables you can find, but be quick!” the bandit’s leader called, “We leave the bodies.”

The one holding you yanked your arms, “What about the girls? Spoils of war?” 

“The older one is not to be touched,” his companion answered, ���but take the other one if you want to keep your bed warm.” 

“No! Don’t touch her!” you protested, struggling against the man holding you as he began to wrestle you back towards the carriage. You could see Alba’s terrified face inside, you were determined to not let them take her.

“Run!” you yelled at her, kicking back at the man behind you, your foot miraculously connecting with his shin and he lost his balance. Alba jumped out of the carriage and ran, but the third bandit was right behind her. 

“Fucking bitch, get her!” the leader yelled as the one holding you grabbed your arm and pulled you around. His fist connected with your face and you saw stars as white hot pain shot through your head. Losing your footing, you sank to the ground, head spinning. You heard Alba cry out in fear and a voice yelled.

“Shoot!!” 

The thump of an arrow hitting its mark reached your ears, but you couldn’t lift your head to look for Alba, black dots were dancing in your vision. More voices yelled, some in fear, and again the sounds of battle erupted around you, but just as quickly died down. You could hear the clatter of rain against the roof tiles, dark clouds suddenly forming in your vision, and a warm quilt being pulled over you. The ground fell away beneath you, you were floating under your blanket, or maybe wrapped in it, as the rain clattered. 

“Carrisime, open your eyes,” the low voice demanded in a soft tone, “Come on, look at me now, wake up.” 

The voice was familiar and you could feel his hands gently patting your cheek, rousing your foggy mind.

“Vita mea, I’m here, you’re safe, just open your eyes.” 

With an herculean effort you peeled your eyes open and Marcus’ face floated into focus. 

“There you go, just look at me, carrisime,” he said, his hand stroking your cheek, “you’re safe now.” 

It took you a few more moments to realise that you weren’t floating and it wasn’t raining. Marcus was cradling you in his arms, his thick cloak wrapped around you, as the clatter of soldier’s caligae against the paving stones brought the events of the past few minutes flooding back. 

“Alba…” you croaked, trying to look for her, but Marcus tightened his arms around you.

“She’s unharmed, just a scrape on her knees when she fell over, she’s being taken care of,” he touched his fingertips gently to the part of your cheek that was throbbing, “Do you think you can ride in the carriage with me? I won’t let you out of my sight.” 

You nodded, still uncertain about what had actually happened, and Marcus gently put you on your feet, his arms keeping you steady. He gave sharp orders and the small company of soldiers were back in their saddles, as Marcus joined you and Alba in the carriage. What had happened to the body of your husband you didn’t know and you didn’t want to ask. 

Alba looked stunned and dazed, and you guessed you looked no better, but Marcus commandeered a cloak from one of his soldiers for her, and kept his own wrapped around you. When the carriage began to roll with a jerk, he tightened his hold on you and you gratefully leaned against him. Your body felt loose, your limbs all watery, and you gratefully accepted his warmth and solid frame to hold you up. He bent his head and placed a gentle kiss to the top of your head and you felt his hand slowly caress your arm. 

“What happened?” Alba asked, her voice low and uncertain as she looked from you to Marcus and back again. He regarded her for a moment before he glanced down at you. 

“What I tell you can go no further than this carriage,” he said, “If anyone finds out, all our lives are in danger, understood?” 

You nodded and so did Alba, her eyes wide. 

“I’m telling you because I don’t want to start our new lives with dishonesty, but no one else can know.” 

You nodded again and Marcus gave you a small smile, “At least I hope you want to start a new life with me, carrisime?” He touched your cheek gently, “I never had an opportunity to ask you properly, your husband was more devious than I thought.” 

“I do, Marcus,” your voice barely above a whisper, reaching up to place your hand over his as he smiled down at you, “I’ve never wanted anything else so much in life.” 

“How fortunate for me,” Marcus said with a tender voice, placing another kiss to the top of your head, “then I’ll tell you.” 

He drew a deep breath and looked over at Alba again, “I’m sorry you got pulled into this too, I never meant for you to be harmed. But Lunaris guessed that you knew too, and that made him vindictive. He came to see me, and threatened to have you both killed if I didn’t promise him the riches and status he craved. I was hoping he’d divorce you and let you leave his house, free to marry again, but he was determined to have more and ruin me in the process. Had I given in to him, he would’ve held the threat over me, all of us, for the rest of our lives.” 

“You had him killed,” you breathed out, the realisation dawning on you. Why else would Marcus and his soldiers show up just after the bandits had killed Lunaris. 

“Yes, and I’m sorry, but it was his life or yours, and he was worth nothing to me,” Marcus looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed in concern, “I had no choice, but I don’t know if you can forgive me.” 

“He told me you’d given me up, that you’d given in to his blackmail and that I was to stay with him because you didn’t want me,” you said, anger rising inside you as you remembered the malicious things Lunaris had told you, the lies he’d made you believe, “He told me he’d keep me as a slave in his new villa while he got a young, new wife. Pluto can have him!” you spat out, and you felt Marcus’s arms tighten around you. 

“Hush, carissime,” he said, “calm yourself, it’s behind us.” 

“You sent the bandits?” Alba asked, “They were going to…” she trailed off as tears rose in her eyes. Marcus leaned over and took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you’d be travelling too, please don’t cry, puella.” 

Alba dried her tears and nodded, wrapping her borrowed cloak tighter around herself and you leaned back against Marcus’s solid chest. He let go of Alba’s hand and cradled your cheek in his large palm, softly stroking his thumb over the swollen part. 

“Does it hurt, carissime?” he asked quietly and you nodded, “I’m sorry it happened, I told them to not touch you. I saw no other way out, I couldn’t kill him myself, I couldn’t let one of  my soldiers do it. So I hired the bandits to attack and kill Lunaris and any guards, I was hoping he’d travel without you. I feel like maybe I took too great a risk.”

“I was scared,” you whispered, “I thought they’d rape and kill us, or sell us,” you squeezed your eyes shut at the thought. 

“I’m sorry,” Marcus mumbled, pressing his lips to your forehead, “Forgive me, carrisime.” 

You nodded, “I do, even dying would’ve been a preferable fate to serving as a slave in Lunaris’ new household. You’ve saved my life, both our lives.”  

You both fell silent for a while, the rocking of the carriage lulling Alba to sleep, curled up under the cloak on the seat opposite. You stayed tucked under Marcus’s arm as he slowly caressed you, bending his head now and then to press a kiss to your head. 

After a few miles had been covered you stirred and looked up at him. 

“You let Lunaris catch us in the thermae, why?” 

“I know his type, he never would have agreed to divorce you, especially not for a man so much more powerful than him. So I needed to let him catch us in the act so that I could scare him, threaten him into giving you up,” Marcus shook his head as he seemed to think through the events of the past few days, “But I misjudged him, he really was stupid enough to think he could blackmail me. Even if I’d given in to his blackmail, did he think no one would ask any questions when I handed over my villa to him? Or when he tried to buy his way into the Senate? I’m sorry I had to have him killed, but I’m not sorry to see him gone,” Marcus shrugged and adjusted his arm around you, making you lean your head against his shoulder, “Sleep, carrisime, I’ve arranged for us to stay at an inn tonight, but we have many more miles to travel first.” 

Sleep didn’t come easy, even though you closed your eyes and tried to let the carriage’s rumbling motions lull you. You understood why Marcus had done what he’d done, his logic was solid. Kill Lunaris or lose you and everything in his life. And Lunaris was nothing to him, just an annoying, vindictive little man, it didn’t matter to Marcus if he died. But still you felt like you’d seen a new side of him, the ruthless Roman general, the man who had led armies to great victories because he was just that ruthless. 

You knew, rationally, that Marcus had killed many men, and had even more men killed. Both enemy soldiers and civilians, but also his own soldiers, as he sent them into battle. It was the nature of his profession. But now he’d done it to get his way, to get you, not as part of a war. He’d saved you, both from a boring marriage when he first turned up, and from Lunaris’ spiteful revenge on you after your infidelity. But your actions, both yours and Marcus’, had led to men dying. Your intense feelings for Marcus, the need you had to be near him, ultimately had cost the lives of your husband, stupid as he was for blackmailing a Roman general. But it had also cost the lives of four guards and three bandits. Eight men dead. All because you and Marcus wanted to be together. 

The thought reeled around your head. Eight new men with Pluto tonight because a Roman general had stumbled into your house on Bona Dea. Was this the will of the gods? Or would you be punished? A shiver ran through you, and Marcus bent down, brushing his lips over your cheek. 

“Vita mea, tell me your thoughts,” he mumbled. 

“I’m…grateful you saved me, and Alba,” you whispered, tilting your head back to meet his dark yes, “But I’m worried we’ve angered the gods through our actions. So many men killed because of you and me.”

“I would never presume to know the will of the gods,” he replied, keeping his voice low, “but I know Mars steers my hand in battle and he hasn’t failed me yet, not even today. But we’ll make sacrifices to the gods when we return to Rome, show them our gratitude for bringing us together and keeping you and Alba safe. I don’t believe Juno would want either of you trapped with that vicious man.” 

He bent his head low and tenderly kissed your lips, his warm hand cupping your cheek, “And I know Bona Dea guided my steps when she first led me to your villa, we will give special thanks to her too. Now sleep, amor, I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

Part 4 Tagging some lovely people who showered the first two parts with love: @gothcsz @missladym1981 @txlady37 @timelordfreya @bluesweaters15

@indiegirlunited @jessthebaker @likeficinthewnd @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @inept-the-magnificent

@angiewatson @wintersquirrel @sheepdogchick3 @asobeeee @harriedandharassed @cozylittlepigeon

@i-own-loki @pedrit0-pascalit0

[peppertoastuniverse]

Hi pepper!

I have a request for a one shot Gojo x reader. that’s fluffy based off of this song called “memory lane” by aqualina

I do have a scene based off of it but do whatever you’d like. Imagine this, either reader or Gojo finds some old footage of Him, reader, Shoko and Geto hanging out in their high school years. Reader and Gojo reminisce on old memories.

omg thank you for your sweet request ! hope this one was worth the wait ✨

something good – gojo satoru x reader

contents: gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru mention, ieri shoko mention, light angst with LOTS OF FLUFF, mentally strugging softboy!satoru gojo, lots of yearning, 2 pages of making out, slightly suggestive summary: gojo uncovers hidden memories and realises that all he needs is you wc: 3.6k

spring time, second year.  “.. it looks like me and you haven’t really changed that much, hey?” he says softly, the fondness for you showing in his younger face all those years before.   even when he didn’t ask, he knew that you would always be there. you were his constant. he didn’t know when he started seeing you in everything he did, if you could see his thoughts, you’d be able to see your smile reflecting back at you.

“satoru?” still concentrating on his nintendo DS, he sighs. he recognizes suguru’s tone, it either going to be a deep question or a fucking stupid one. he rolls over with a groan on suguru’s bed to face his best friend, his book that he was reading lay forgotten on his desk. “yeah?” satoru asks lazily, eyes darting back to his flashing screen. “who do you see yourself as in the future?” oh, here we go. satoru fights the need to roll his eyes. “what do you want for your life?”  “pff, I want to just fucking beat this level.” he says aggravatingly, groaning dramatically as his character dies again. suguru laughs seeing his flashing screen, previous annoyance disappearing instantly, satoru can’t help but grin back – he always liked suguru’s laugh. 

“...don’t you ever think about it though? the future?” the future?

he blinks. blessed with great strength and power, he knew from a young age that that choice wasn’t something that he was lucky enough to have. satoru never had to worry about the future, he had his whole life planned out for him. the thought never saddened him, and why should it? he wasn’t a fool and believed that all things were equal in this world. he was the chosen one, the future of jujutsu society – that was just how life was –  another consequence of being the honoured he supposed. but glancing at suguru’s thoughtful expression, the flicker of hope and despair in his violet eyes, his rough hands winding through his dark hair, it was clear to see that this obviously mattered to suguru. satoru didn’t understand where suguru was going with this but it was just like him to worry about things that didn’t matter. satoru sighs, attention back to his game,  “i dunno, it’s hard to say when we’re already the strongest. what else could you want?” suguru scoffs, shaking his head “you won’t be a teenager forever – you’d better wake up sooner or later, satoru.” satoru jolts awake, moving his blindfold up to rub his eyes irritatedly. 

shit, for once he didnt mean to fall asleep. still feeling slightly disoriented, he hastily slides off of the couch, moving quickly to his room down the hall. groaning as he glances at the clock in the hall, he sighs hoping to ignore his slightly teary eyes. he was going to be late – you were going to kill him. 

satoru hasn’t been sleeping well lately – not that it was from a lack of effort. he’s tried melatonin pills, exercising before bed, even those sleepy girlie time party mocktails – or whatever you called them – but nothing helped. it definitely wasn’t the endless missions that the irritating higher ups were making him go on, he was used to the workload. maybe he was worried about something. walking quickly through his room, satoru wondered if you were getting enough sleep. did you have dreams too? sleep never seemed to be there when he wanted it. rubbing his face, to fully pull himself into reality, satoru could still feel the remnants of the quiet comfort produced by his unexpected dream. he felt shame at the feeling. guilt in the comfort. 

satoru didnt get a lot of sleep to begin with, but there were times where the extra hours awake weren’t all bad. he might as well be useful, which is how satoru started learning how to cook in the early hours of the morning, proudly surprising tsumiki and megumi with cute bento boxes. he would binge watch a whole tv series at once, determined to tell nanami all about it at jujutsu tech. but he thinks the best use of his time awake was when he was simply seated on the couch with you, listening to you talk about your day until the drowsiness would overtake you and he could just hold you for a little bit. he liked when you came over, tsumiki and megumi liked it too. just last week, when he saw your expression melt when tsumiki begged you to stay for dinner, giving into her like you always have. satoru remembers your grin as you sat next to silently pleased megumi, picking out the tender pieces of chicken from your plate to give him more of his favourite. when you were around satoru noticed that fushiguros were more at ease, and he couldn’t help but think that maybe it would be better if you moved in. but this was uncharted territory – a necessary boundary– protecting you from the rise and fall of his storm. his greed would have to lay dormant in his dreams. 

but the lines were getting blurrier throughout the years. satoru couldnt deny how his face would light up when you’d call him while he was on a lengthy overnight mission. concern smothering the delight in your voice that he was still awake (“satoru! what the fuck, did you even sleep today?”), he’d easy dodge your concerns, covering the fatigue in his voice with teasing remarks and crude jokes to your obvious frown.  “tell me something good, satoru” you’d say, seeing right through him like you always did, voice still laced with sweetness, wanting nothing more than to listen to him talk. 

taking wide strides across his room to throw something on, satoru rustles quickly into his closet grabbing whatever looked clean and appropriate. if he showed up in his crinkled pajamas again to a meeting again, you’d surely cuss him out. his eyebrows crease at the thought of disappointing you, he was supposed to make you smile not stress you out – he made a promise to himself to always look out for you and there you go again worrying about him. 

hastily grabbing the folded dark blue sweater at the back of his closet, blue eyes widen at a box toppling to the floor. its contents dramatically spilling across the cold hardwood floors. 

great. he didn’t have time for this. groaning, he quickly kneels down to right the box, his breathing hitches. 

strewn across his floor, he sees scenes of his missing dreams. photographs of his time at jujutsu tech as a student, his eyes taking in the many photographs that shoko had taken, moments of a simpler past. gathering the pile of photos, he slowly rifles through them – a photo of shoko and him with matching peace signs, a photo of you doing shoko’s hair, blurry photos of suguru chasing after you when you’d steal his cigarettes, snickering photos of him trying to climb suguru like a tree, a photo of you and kento sharing sandwiches. 

another lifetime ago. he picks up the slightly faded photo of himself and you, a reminder of a well loved memory. satoru shakes his head softly at the way you sat on his back while he was sprawled out on the gym mats, his glasses perched at the top of your head acting as a crown on your shit eating face.  satoru cant help but grin at his own small pout in the grainy photo. shoko always had the best timing. you had a bet with suguru that if you could get gojo’s glasses, he would treat you to unlimited free ramen from that nice place in shibuya with the fresh noodles for two months. 

satoru remembered how you’d excitedly roll off him ignoring his grumbling, “toru, you know i had to win! it’s suguru! have you seen how much sugu eats? that fucker would run me dry! but don’t worry, i’ll get him to pay for you too.” 

he never told you that he had let you win of course, not putting up much of a fight, distracted by the smile on your face – so bright that he couldn’t bear to diminish it. you must have had some sort of curse in your smile, even convincing a begrudging suguru into paying for satoru everytime, “sugu, you have to! he’s going to whine and cry, do you really want to deal with that?” 

after that month, satoru never went to back that ramen place again– too sick of it to go back. he could hear the creaking floors when the three of you would arrive,  the smell of the rich broth and the sound of suguru’s laughter when he teased you.   satoru knows you havent had shio ramen since then – you insisted on have ramen for every meal for a month to suguru’s annoyance. perhaps he’d invite you to go eat there again if it was still there. 

somewhere in his mind he thinks he hears the warm sound of your arrival, the jingling of the key that he gave you when the fushiguros first moved in. your usual light steps, heavy now with annoyance. 

“really, satoru?” you yell, annoyance dripping from your sharp tongue. “i’ve been calling you a billion times, this is an important meeting – we can’t be late again. you fucking said you’d be ready by the time i –” you see his still figure hunched at his closet. your eyes narrow in confusion, your tightened fist unclenching at the sight of his still broad back. 

“... satoru?” you call, voice softening as you notice the tension in his shoulders and the unnatural stillness of his too tall body. curiously you creep up behind him, your  slow hands feel his shoulders, the tension cold and heavy in his muscles, your hesitant hands leaving a trail of fire behind them. arms weaving their way around his slender neck, a place that you’ve been before. your eyes take in the photos strewn on the floor, visions of a past life swirling in his cluttered mind. your eyes widen. 

“..’toru?” you try again – more gently – calling him from the abyss, a light in a rough storm. eventually, you feel his large cold hand reach up to gently hold your right hand in response, his blue eyes tear away from the photographs, tousled white hair leaning against your abdomen, his tired eyes looking up at your concerned face. 

“hey.” he greets you, trying to mask his fallen expression with a hollow smile, a carefully practiced defense, something that he developed in childhood but perfected in suguru’s absence. but you knew him well. you knew how his eyebrows would crease or how his lip twitched when he was on the verge of crying.  

the dark rings around his eyes echoes you concern – were they darker than usual? you sigh as you take into account his far away stare, his icy watery eyes. crouching down, all anger forgotten, you look over his shoulder to take a closer look at the photo he’s holding. apologetically you let go of his hand in exchange for the photograph, sitting down beside him instead. you miss his eyebrows furrow slightly missing the comforting squeeze of your hand. a bittersweet smile dancing on your face, you stare at the photo, all words dying on your suddenly too heavy tongue. a photo of a past life, a happier time:  suguru’s exasperated expression contrasting his bright amethyst eyes, face fashioned in a pout as he was sandwiched obnoxiously in between you and satoru. a wild grin decorating your face, mischievous eyes closed in mid laughter at suguru’s grumbling, while satoru pulled bunny ears behind suguru.

“oh god, look at him.” you whisper pointing out suguru’s dark shorter hair when he first arrived at jujutsu tech. you almost forgot what he looked like before he – 

your eyes blink, you didn’t want to think about it. 

satoru scoffs, “i know, doesn’t he look like an idiot?” 

“remember how you’d make fun of him all the time? you were such a bully to him – he really hated you when we started.” you laugh sadly.  

“that’s not my fault, he was fucking asking for it! he kept calling me q-tip! or nepobaby!” he counters, betraying tenderness in his tone. “shut up, i know you liked it when he called you anything close to baby!” you quip back, face denouncing you in a soft grin. a heavy silence invades the intimate space between you two, his absence sitting in between you, his rightful spot now vacant.  suguru. you lean your head on satoru’s shoulder, his arm moving around you to settle at your waist instinctively. you look into his eyes reading him easily: i miss him too. 

suguru’s defection was still a sore spot in your mind. satoru still hasnt been able to say his name out loud, suguru’s name carrying too much weight. you suspected that satoru wanted to carry his best friend with him despite the heaviness, a sense of masochistic comfort. you hoped that he knew that you were always there for him when the time came, you still felt the hurt too. 

but there was a strange sort of solace that still lingered in his name. suguru’s memory was still soft if you focused but the pain caused by his name was still sharp and rough around the edges. when was the last time you and satoru spoke this openly about him?

the memory still hurt. a wound that would reopen at any given movement, unable to heal, cutting deeper as time went by. 

mercifully sensing the pounding of your heavy heart, satoru clears his throat and fishes out another photo in the messy pile. a photo of shoko and himself, a cigarette dancing on shoko’s lips, gojo looking at her in mid conversation. 

“ewww – look at you here.” you point out, wrinkling your nose, “this really wasnt your best haircut...” 

he scoffs, the twinkle in his eyes showing you his amusement.  “you’re the one who did it – ”

“oh fuck, right!” you laugh, thinking about the very first time satoru begged you to cut his hair – shoko was away on a rare mission–  yelping at you when you closed your eyes in nervousness, resulting in an uneven cut. you both remembered how shoko laughed so hard she cried when she saw him. you definitely didn’t cut his hair this time, admiring his soft locks and even trim. you move your generous hands to comb through his soft hair gently, enjoying the feeling of his undercut under your slow hands. he closes his eyes, a please sigh escaping his lips, tension immediately easing from his body.

“it’s better now though, hey? makes me even more handsome,” he teases, his eyes still closed. 

“nah, still ugly. brings out your buggy eyes. ‘m so glad you started wearing the blind fold.” you mutter, still playing with his hair absentmindedly. 

ignoring his whine, you laugh, “wow, shoko still looks amazing though.. look at her cute little cheeks! I forgot how she used to put pins in her hair like that.” previous annoyance disappearing instantly, satoru can’t help but grin back – he always liked your laugh. 

he watches while a strange far away expression infiltrates your face, picking up a photo, edges creased contrasting the vividness of his memory. shoko and suguru smiling at the camera, while you and satoru were in mid conversation smiling at each other. spring time, second year. 

“.. it looks like me and you haven’t really changed that much, hey?” he says softly, the fondness for you showing in his younger face all those years before.  

even when he didn’t ask, he knew that you would always be there. you were his constant. he didn’t know when he started seeing you in everything he did, if you could see his thoughts, you’d be able to see your smile reflecting back at you. your presence somehow simultaneously exciting him and putting him at ease. maybe it started when you stole his glasses in first year, or the countless detentions you both got in. surely, it must have been the night that suguru left. in the darkness he wasn’t sure who was holding who, your tears mixing with his as you clung to him in your sleep.

maybe it was when you showed up at megumi’s school when he first got into a fight even though you were in the middle of a mission last month, a fire in your eyes. or maybe it was when you comforted tsumiki when she came home upset over a fight with one of her friends. maybe it was in the way you talked her through it, rubbing her back gently while you listened to her through her teary words. or when you ate all his mochi yesterday, cheekily claiming “you said you’d share, satoru!” whenever it started, he knew that something different was blossoming into maturity in the past few months – something that he never knew could be a possibility –  let alone for someone like him. 

“we should take an updated photo, we never have photos of just us,” you decide, turning to face him fully. “my phone or yours?” he asks, eyes still the photo, breathing in the way you smiled at him all those years ago. unchanged. 

“mhm, yours.” you say as he digs his phone out of his back pocket. “i want a good one, ‘kay toru?? i dont need any more photos of you sticking your tongue out..” you mutter, scooching closer to him. “oy, come closer – you’re so far,” you whine, grabbing his forearm urging him to get closer for a better photo. 

“c’mere then..” he mutters, gently shuffling you so that you’re sitting in his lap, as you hum in content at the warmth of his skin against yours. he easily drowned you, this familiar place, his familiar embrace. yet this time you felt the tide shift, something softer, vulnerable – the calm waters after a storm.  you lean your head to his as you both smile for the camera as the shutter echoes through the room. 

moving impossibly closer to you, he turns his head towards you, his phone lay forgotten on the floor. sensing his stare you turn your head to his, eyes questioning his soft gaze. as the air grows thicker bursting with the weight of years of fondness and poorly hidden desires, your eyes flicker to the curve of his lips. breathing the same air as him, you feel light headed, drunk off the very presence of him.   

inching closer he feels his soft lips meet yours, a fluttering feeling, hesitant and foreign but firm and sure. you easily wind your arms around his neck, sighing as you pull him closer, jumping into the deep end when you’ve been wading in the shallows for years. he effortlessly maneuvers you to straddle his lap, large hands pressing against your back, pulling you closer to meld his heart to yours, his hands begging to memorize the feeling of you. 

too preoccupied drowning in him, you hesitantly break away from him to breathe, only to rest your forehead on his. grounding yourself in the feeling of his warm breath on your cheek, uneven and heavy, your erratic heartbeat threatens to break the fragile silence. the air grew hot and heavy, buzzing with anticipation and nerves.  satoru bumps his slender nose with your playfully, causing you to grin. a relieved smile dancing on his face in reply, a silent conversation dancing in his eyes, a celebration of his love, a proclamation of his devotion to you, an apology for waiting this long, an admission of forever. 

needing to feel more of him, you move your hand to cup his flushed cheek, the sweetness in his skin grounds you once more – satoru was always the question and the solution wound tightly into one. confessions of the past and future swirling in his blue, you meet the weight of his tender gaze like you were carrying the strongest’s life in your very hands. his skin burning with your touch, you greedily move to kiss him to soothe the ache, swallowing his smile in your greed. 

melting with the reassurance of his lips to yours like a signature on a previously forgotten love letter, you wonder how you lasted this long without his lips on yours. you bite back a pleased smile as he reciprocates eagerly, deepening the kiss, tongues dancing, his soft lips moving in tandem with a bruising promise to always be yours if you let him. when your hands weave through his hair, a dark purr escaping his throat, reverberating through your core. his arm grips you tightly as his other hand moves to settle at the nape of your neck, feeling your heart beat in sync through his flushed skin. 

breathlessly, with great effort two magnets part, your hands loosening your grip on his soft t shirt. breaths tangling together, drinking in each other. 

still intoxicated by the feeling of you, satoru can’t help but nuzzle into your warmth, his forehead finding yours once more. his eyes still on your swollen lips, evidence of his want, his mind already on the thought of kissing you again, like he would die without the feeling. “y’okay?” you mumble, heaving chest enjoying his touch. 

he chuckles at the absurdity of your question, you should know by now that he was always okay as long as you were with him – the only time that he feels he would get better is when you were there. 

“hey – don’t laugh…” you mutter suddenly embarrassed by his stare, a deeper blush finding a way onto your cheeks emphasizing your growing pout. laughing fully now, his strong arms bring you closer as they wind around your waist sweetly.

unable to resist, you lightly kiss his jawline as his wandering hands brush some hair out of your face. “hmph, you’re such a dick and after everything i do for you too…” you playfully whisper without malice, leaning into his broad chest, rolling your eyes.

“mm.. how should i make it up to you?” he mumbles, slender hand tilting your chin up to force your gaze to look at him. as you bravely meet his tender gaze, you notice that something different was in his eyes.

“damn, i gotta help you with that one too?” you tease, giggle blooming in your throat as he kisses our nose gently. “well… i have a few ideas.” he hums, moving to kiss you fully, slow and sweet savouring you. “you always do…” you mutter, eyes on his grinning lips. 

perhaps now he could answer suguru’s question he thought as you move to rest your head on his shoulder. satoru knew he wanted you. holding you in his arms now, feeling your shy smile on his neck –  he knew that you were something good.

requests are open a/n: they did not make it to the meeting lol ngl this request was tough, but i loved the challenge of writing my first smoochie smoochie scene.

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[summitprinter]

LeanBeefPatty's Hefty Bulk

Everyone has a breaking point, and famous bodybuilding sensation LeanBeafPatty was nearing hers. Ms. Patty had spent dozens of hours focusing on her figure. Every aspect of her life was dedicated to bodybuilding. Yet no matter how many weights Ms. Patty lifted, how many progress videos were posted, and how built she became, it never felt like it was enough. Sure there were plenty of people who showered her with praise, but the few quiet doubters always brought her down. Ms. Patty always felt a fierce competition between herself and other fitness influencers. If you weren’t the biggest and strongest, then why bother? So when people left comments telling her that she was still too small and wasn’t strong or that she used unnatural methods to achieve her body, feelings of stress filled her. These feelings of self-doubt would build inside of her for many years until one day, she finally snapped. After reading a particularly nasty comment about her body, Ms. Patty decided to take a break from social media, disabling all of her online accounts. As she did this, she began to feel slightly relieved, like a large weight was lifted from her shoulders. Suddenly her gut moaned for food. The realization that she no longer had to eat bland food to obtain an impossible goal suddenly hit and Ms. Patty began looking through a myriad of food delivery options. Becoming a little too excited with the amount of choices, she ordered over one hundred dollars worth of take-out food and waited patiently for it to arrive. As Ms. Patty spread the feast across her table, she stared at it in silence. She had done her fair share of bulks in the past, but for the first time in a long while, she was eating for taste and pleasure, not some bodybuilding goal. As the fear of feeling like a pig, she gazed down upon herself and stared at her sharp abs. Soon feelings of reassurance came floating in. Why should she be so strict with herself? What’s one slightly unhealthy meal? After all, she had the body of a goddess as many had told her. So with a new found appreciation of herself, Ms. Patty began to slowly eat, savoring each greasy flavor that touched her mouth. Little did she know that her fate was sealed with that one bite… Three Years Later…

It seems Ms. Patty hasn’t managed her appetite for fast food well. The once muscular bodybuilder no longer remains. Now a disgusting grease covered blob has taken her place. Ms. Patty has become a complete slave to her hunger. That first feast she had so many years ago started a chain reaction where she would gorge herself silly then she would feel terrible about it, ordering more food to eat her feelings away, leading to an endless cycle of fattening self-misery. This plus her new greasy diet of processed foods has left her pores clogged with sweat, her face riddled with acne, and a gassy gut that’s only slightly alleviated with constant burping and farting, facts that embarrassed her greatly. Along her growing stress levels, her waistline hasn’t fared much better. Gone are her washboard abs, firm biceps, and tight ass. Instead, rolls of unflatteringly saggy fat now make up most of her body. Her weight has gotten so bad that she mostly stays confined to her bed, only getting up to collect the many food deliveries she orders on a daily basis or to replace the batteries for her many “toys.” Yes, alongside keeping her mouth filled with food, Ms. Patty now has at least one orifice filled with some kind of sex toy. She did it at first to try and alleviate her stress from weight gain, but nowadays her dopamine receptors are so fried that it merely edges her for hours on end. 

Today was like any other day for Ms. Patty, with the fat slob waking up in late afternoon in a puddle of her own sweat and smells, her mind immediately thinking of food. Without thought, she ordered a large pepperoni pizza and waited, the soft buzz of the toy she had buried down in her rolls droning on.

Soon the sounds of knocking at the door filled the air. As Ms. Patty went to stand up, she suddenly realized that she couldn’t. She gritted her teeth and groaned in pain as her thick fatty legs pushed against the mattress with all their might. As the delivery girl called out her name, Ms. Patty began to panic. What was this poor delivery girl going to say when she saw her? Tears began to roll down Ms. Patty’s round cheeks. Out of ideas and desperately craving that greasy pizza, she called out to the delivery driver, meekly telling her to come in. As her front door creaked slowly open and the outside sunlight bathed her dark and dirty room, Ms. Patty felt a burning shame fill her face. Soft footsteps stepped in, with a thin young woman slowly approaching the large pile of lard that was Ms. Patty. The delivery girl had stopped dead in her tracks when she first laid eyes on Ms. Patty, who could do nothing as the delivery girl took in her fat disgusting body, gagging from the many strange and strong smells emanating from her sweaty folds. Ms. Patty began to cry harder as the delivery girl dropped the pizza in shock and ran for the door. The realization that this was no one’s fault but her own began to hit hard. She had to get used to this feeling quickly as this was her life now. Nothing but pure, shameful misery…

ALTS:

Clean:

Sweat:

Sweat and Crying:

Sweat, Acne, and Crying:

Slob:

Slob and Crying:

Slob, Acne, and Crying:

Slob and Farting:

Slob, Farting, and Crying:

[bangchxnnie]

how long will this last? (pt. 2)

pairing: felix and fem!reader

tropes: friends to enemies to lovers, idiots in love, brother’s best friend if you squint? , college!au?

content warnings: 3rd person writing, alcohol is mentioned, reader is nicknamed barbie, felix is stupid, cursing, orange cats, shitty writing, bin being bin, massive miscommunication, what can barely be considered angst, some suggestive elements (but as always, read at your own risk buddy!)

chapter word count: ≈4.7k

|| hlwtl masterlist || part 1 || part 3 ||

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

“Did you eat my fucking pasta leftovers?” She groans, searching through the fridge. 

“You were asleep, and I didn’t want to wake you up and ask what is off limits and what isn’t.” 

“You’re such a prick.” She slams the fridge shut and fights a full-on pout. 

My pasta…

“What bit your ass?” 

It takes a while to explain everything to her brother fully. With how busy his job has been, he’s barely popped in over the last few months. She’s be lying if she said it wasn’t good to see him, though. Scare or not. 

She keeps stopping to fight the residual anger, sadness, or the weird mix of both that comes whenever she says Felix’s name. To Chris’s credit, he does his best to sit and just listen. Until she gets to the part about Felix saying she’s not worth it. He laughs at that. 

“What’s so funny?”

“God, he’s so transparent.”

She looks at him in confusion. 

“Continue. Please.” 

BP, the little traitor, sits in Chris’s lap the whole time, purring contentedly at the constant affection.

Can’t trust none of these hoes. 

When she finishes, he sits in silence for a moment. 

“So it sounds like he’s jealous, dude.” He says simply. 

B immediately shakes her head in protest and waves him off for good measure. 

“No, he’s just a dick.” 

“That may be true too, and I do want to kick his ass, but he’s clearly and obviously jealous of you and Binnie.” 

“You’re clinically insane. There’s nothing to be jealous of!” Her irritation could not be more obvious. Folded arms, jaw tensed, eyes skyward. “He’s just an ass, and there’s nothing more to it.” 

“Are you really that oblivious? I mean, c’mon, I know I’m the brains of the family, but-“ She smacks him upside the head. “Ow! Don’t damage the goods!” 

“Then stop saying dumb shit!” Chris glares at her. 

“I’m not. Anyone with eyes and half a brain cell can see he’s into you. Like, well into you. And has been. It’s quite gross, actually.” Her heart rate picks up at his words. She doesn’t actually believe him, but it gives her butterflies all the same. 

She covers by raising an eyebrow at him. He takes it as a sign to continue. “Look, I’m not gonna tell you what to do. But think about it. He threw a fit that day because he came home and saw you flirting with Bin.”

“I wasn’t flirting with him! That’s gross. Bin was just being himself. He’s always like that. Felix knows this.”

“Doesn’t mean he likes it. Maybe he just snapped.” 

She doesn’t buy it. They’re grown-ass people.

If Felix really was that upset, why wouldn’t he just say something? He’s always been able to tell me when he’s bothered.

If it were that simple, why didn’t you tell Felix how you felt, either? 

…Even my brain is a traitorous traitor. Why are we defending him?

“Okay, fine. What about that day he lied about his laptop?” 

“Maybe he genuinely forgot he had it. Or maybe, that loud ass sound you heard was him at the door.” 

B doesn’t say anything. 

“You said he was in the hallway, right? Maybe he had come home, saw Bin and you doing…whatever the fuck you were doing, and left.” 

Surely she would have noticed if Felix had come in, right? She’s normally so observant. Or at least, she thought she was. It’s a lot of information to process. 

“I mean, really? What the hell were you doing?”

“Irrelevant. What do I do about it?” B reaches for her cat, still seated in Chris’s lap. BP hisses at her. 

Fucker.

“Talk to him, dude. Jesus Christ, I thought you were smarter than this.” Chris just sighs. 

“Thanks, dipshit. And how exactly do you expect me to do that when he ignores me at every turn?” 

“I can’t give you all the answers. Damn. You’ve got to do some of the work yourself. Now,” He gently sets BP down and stands to stretch. “I’d really like to get some sleep. Is the spare room clean?” 

B thinks she’s probably going to kill him before this week is over.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

“What about that one? He’s so cute!” Felix points to a nearby cage, cooing at the cat on the other side. 

“His sign literally says, ‘I Don’t Like People.’” B counters, shaking her head. 

Felix just smiles that goofy smile at her that she loves. “Which means you already have something in common!” 

Her mouth drops in semi-shock at his comment, and she half-heartedly nudges his arm. “I like you well enough!” The same arm wraps around him and she continues walking. “How about this one?” She points to a couple of cages over; a little paw sticking out between the tiny metal poles of the door. 

“I dunno…she seems a little small. So dainty. She’s got to be able to hold her own in your house.” Felix plays with her as much as he can through the barrier, even going so far as to make baby talk to her. B giggles, just watching him for a bit. He’s so gentle with everything; no wonder the littles flock to him at family events. “Whad’ya think, Beautiful? Do you wanna come home with us? Just say the word, and we’ll take you home, yeah?”

Us. The way that one word makes B feel is more than dangerous. Floaty, warm, and fuzzy. After all, there is no us. Just her and Felix. As friends. Until the end of time. 

How miserable.

Felix jolts back when the cat swipes at him, catching his knuckle. “Ow! Fuck!” B blinks back to reality.

“Serves you right for calling her dainty.” 

Felix throws his free arm up in defeat. “Fair enough.”

 He steps into B’s space silently, suddenly laser-focused on reaching the top of her head. He gently moves a stray hair back into place, following it down to tuck it behind her ears. “Sorry, Gorgeous, it was standing up weird.” It’s all he offers in explanation. 

Not that she minds. But between the pet name and the touch, she’s sure her face is outing her in more ways than one. 

You’ve got to get it under control, girl! Get. A. Grip. 

Felix clears his throat, steps back, and offers his arm to her. “Shall we?” 

They interact with a few more cats, and every time Felix talks to the cats, it tugs at B’s heartstrings. She can’t help but watch the way his freckles crinkle when he smiles or how his eyes light up when any of the cats interact with him back. “How are you today, sweetheart?” or “Are you having a good day?” or B’s personal favorite, complete with baby voice-“I might have to just steal you for myself. Yeah, I think I do.” 

Eventually, they come across one that seems thoroughly uninterested in Felix. Felix tries to play with him, but he doesn’t budge. “Well, fine. Be like that then.” He pouts like a petulant toddler. 

“I think he’s just tired.” 

“Is he? He seems pretty indifferent toward me.” 

“Let me try.”

“Be my guest, gorgeous.”

B tries to coax him out from the corner of his enclosure. He slowly sits his head up and just stares at her. At least it’s more of a reaction than what he gave the man.

The cat approaches the cage leisurely like he has all the time in the world. Which, one supposes, he does. B drops her arm from Felix’s to get closer to the semi-curious cat, who lets Barbie pet him and seems content with just that. 

“I think he likes me? Maybe?” She searches the cage for his information card. 

Name: Bobby Pin 

Felix laughs. It compels another smile from B, much like anything else he does. “Bobby Pin? How do they come up with these names?” 

“I mean, my friend in grade school had a cat named Crayon. She tried to eat one as a kitten right after they got her. So there it was.” 

The way he listens so intently when she speaks makes her feel like anything she has to say is important. That she is important, it’s a feeling she cherishes more than he knows. 

Felix tries to reach for the cat again, seemingly feeling like he’s missing out. When the cat grumbles but lets him, both humans laugh. B decides that he’s the one.

She goes searching for a shelter employee. 

“Excuse me, we’d like to fill out an application for this one?” 

The memory pulses a pang in her chest that feels so wrong. It doesn’t seem right that just a few months ago, they were fine, and now, he’s saying shit like, “You’re not worth it”. It doesn’t make sense. Her conversation with Chris and the memory keeps her up until her eyelids can’t hold their own weight anymore. 

She manages an entire 36 hours almost completely people-free. She gets out of bed three times the first day. Once to use the bathroom, once to grab an obscene amount of snacks and dash back to bed, and a third time to grab the remote that fell underneath her bed. Other than that, she’s either sleeping, eating, or watching episodes of a show she’s seen a million times. It usually leads to another nap, honestly. The other days it's even less. Maybe twice, if that. Chris checks on her once a day to ensure she’s alive, asks if she wants him to stay (she says no), tells her to call if she needs him, and leaves. She doesn’t call, though. In fact, she turns her phone completely off to avoid everyone else. 

The fourth morning, however, another unwelcome visitor breaks into the apartment. He also has a key, but that’s beside the point. 

“B, are you home?” She’s already awake but would rather be sleeping off what feels like the beginning of a massive headache. Maybe it’s from all the crying. Maybe someone snuck in the middle of the night and poured alcohol down her throat. Maybe it’s from the yelling. She can’t be sure. The possibilities are endless, really. But what she is sure of is the fact that she doesn’t want to deal with Changbin. Not today.

Die. I want to crawl into a hole and make it my home like I’m some kind of mole. I could be a mole man. Mole-woman? Mole-person. 

She snaps her eyes shut and listens for his footsteps. She’s trying to gauge how far away he is since he says nothing else. She is unsuccessful.

“Well, you look awful.” 

Fuck.

“Go away.” She pulls the covers over her head and turns away from the door. 

“No, we’re not doing this sulking thing. C’mon.” He grabs BP from the foot of the bed and sets him on the floor. BP is unhappy about it, grumbling annoyed cat noises while he stretches and searches for a new sleep spot. 

“Oh, hush. You love me.” Bin argues with himself, it seems, because BP ignores him. 

He gently tugs at Barbie’s comforter. He’s trying to give her a chance to let it go. And when she doesn’t, he just snatches it from her hands and tosses it to the end of the bed. He sits on the edge and waits for her to sit up. She doesn’t. 

“Um, hello?! I have no pants on!” B protests, though she makes no effort to hide anything. Her sleep shirt is long enough that it covers everything anyway. 

“Oh, no! Legs! What’s a man to do?!” Bin faux gasps, clutching his hand to his chest. 

He deadpans seconds later. “C’mon, Barbie.” 

“If you say, let’s go party, I will kick you in the stomach.” 

Bin blinks at her. “Just get up!” 

“I don’t want to!” She thrashes around in protest, tears already threatening to expose themselves. “I’m in pain, I’m humiliated, I’ve been invaded, I’m-“ 

“Invaded?” Bin tilts his head, amused. 

She props herself up on her elbows. “Chris is here.” And just as quickly, drops herself back flat on the bed.

Bin mouths a silent oh. 

“Well, he can come too.” Changbin pats her leg and stands. 

“Where are we allegedly going?” Once again up on her elbows, B eyes him carefully. 

“The beach. Obviously.” 

An eyebrow raises. “In autumn?”

“Nobody said we were swimming. Now get up, and take a shower. You smell like sadness.” 

He finds his way to her tall dresser across the room and starts rummaging through it for appropriate clothing. 

She sighs in defeat, dragging herself up to a sitting position. A hefty yawn escapes her lips, and it dawns on her she has no idea what time of day it is.

“Wait, what time is it?” B searches for her phone, but it’s not in its usual spot on her nightstand. “And where’s my phone?” 

“7:30.” 

“AM?!” 

Bin waves her off as if it’s unimportant information. 

“You do realize this is an executable offense.” 

He turns his head to look at her, evil smile spread across his face. “Kill me and I’ll haunt you until your last breath.” 

It’s probably true. 

He tosses some clothes at her and points to the bathroom, exiting the bedroom in the same stride. “Shower. I’m gonna go wake your brother up.” 

“Best of luck, soldier.” 

She takes a deep breath, determined to face whatever the day throws her way. She quickly grabs the clothes thrown at her and heads to the bathroom. As she steps inside, a feeling of dread overcomes her. 

Why do I feel like this day is going to be a shitshow?

She closes her eyes and prays for the best. 

The shower is surprisingly refreshing. Once she finally convinced herself to get in, it’s hard to get out. A full wash can be quite draining most days, but the effort came with a little more ease once the warm stream also warmed the room. She leaves a little less dread-filled and a little more hungry.

After she gets dressed and styles herself to her liking, she heads to the spare room to see how successful Bin is at getting Chris up. He’s usually hard to rise since he doesn’t sleep much, either. 

She finds her brother and her friend..giggling. On the bed. Bin lightly punches Chris’s arm, and Chris falls into a full fit of laughter. 

She smiles, happy to see some of her favorite people so happy. “What’s so funny?” 

Their laughs settle, and Chris waves her off. “It’s nothing.” 

Bin agrees, lingering laughter escaping. “Don’t worry about it, Barbie.” 

She frowns, but doesn’t press. The uneasy feeling in her is growing, but doesn’t have the energy to have it out with them about it.

“Oh. Well, are we going to leave soon?” Her entire demeanor shifts.  

“Soon, we’re just waiting for one more arrival.” No one has time to address B's body language because as if on cue, the door shakes violently. The doorknob attempts to turn, but, of course, it’s locked. The door shakes again, and B sighs. 

“Why would you leave a brainless squirrel outside by himself?” 

Bin shrugs.

“I heard that!” It’s slightly muffled, but the hurt is still there. 

B unlocks the door and steps back, allowing Jisung to clamber inside. He almost crashes into Barbie with how aggressively he runs in. He’s breathing heavy, dramatically sets his hands on his knees to ‘catch his breath’. When he stands, he narrows his eyes at his friend.

“The door wouldn’t open.” 

B laughs. “Because it's locked, dumbass.” 

“How was I supposed to know that?”

“When it didn’t open?” She ruffles his hair. He swats her hand away and attempts to fix it, muttering something under his breath. 

Han Jisung is…a special friend. He can be incredibly intelligent, and very insightful, but it’s blanketed by a lack of common sense sometimes. Most times. He likes to say he’s too smart for his own good. There’s a sliver of truth to the statement. 

“Can we go now?” 

The beach itself is relatively uneventful. Bin packed a picnic kit and some chairs for the group to just sit and talk for a while. He even packed a book for B for when she’s burnt out socially. It’s a kind gesture, but B opts to just sit and listen to the waves, conversation as her background noise. Jisung chooses to sit with her in silence. Eventually, she lays her head on his shoulder. It’s the happiest she’s been all week. 

Nobody says anything to her until they start getting back to the car.

“You know, it’s okay to talk about it.” Chris says, pulling his seatbelt across his lap in the driver’s seat. “How you feel about it.” 

B shakes her head. “I don’t know how I feel.” 

“That’s fine too.” It’s the last he says on the subject. 

The rest of the boys pile in after closing the back of the car, resuming whatever new conversation they’d started on the walk back. B doesn’t really take in much of it. Until she heard something about her brother’s birthday.

“Oh, yeah! Have you finished everything for Saturday, Chris?” 

“Yeah, about that…” He cringes, like the words are paining him.

“What did you do.” 

“ThevenuecanceledandwehavenowhereelsetohostitsoIwashopingyouwouldletususetheapartment.” The words blur together, but she manages to get the gist. And she’s not happy about it.

“And how long have you known this, Christopher?” She stares him down through the rear view mirror. 

“Just since yesterday! I swear! I was just as mad as you are but I know that you love me and you’ll do me this major solid and I’ll owe you big time.” He flashes her his biggest smile, hoping it’ll seal the deal. The car is quiet, save for the radio, while she contemplates her answer. 

“…Yeah, you’ll owe me big time.” 

The whole car lets out a sigh of relief. “You’re the best!” Chris sing-songs. B flips him the bird, smile fighting at the corners of her lips. 

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

Turns out, Chris has much more of his party planning shit together than anyone realises. The transition from venue to house party is relatively smooth over the next few days.. Hiding away the valuables and ultra breakables (nobody plans to get that wasted, but who knows), deep cleaning every room in the house, locking doors to off-limit rooms, the works. 

“Do you really not trust your friends that much?” Barbie questions. She’s washing up the rest of the dishes before she has zero energy left. 

“It’s not his friends he’s worried about, Barbie.” Seungmin joins in, spread comfortably across her couch.

“Oh, right. The New Year’s incident.” Jisung had gotten so drunk he’d gone up to every single person at the party and challenged them to an arm wrestle, and if they lost, he got to kiss them. He almost left with a broken arm. 

“We agreed we won't talk about that anymore.” Jisung gripes anytime somebody mentions it. 

“You agreed. With yourself.” B counters. 

Jisung, Changbin, and Chris all make weird eye contact with one another. It sets off that uneasy feeling in B’s stomach again. It’s so frustrating to feel out of the loop. Again. 

“What is this, some sort of weird intimate mindmeld? What aren’t you guys telling me?” 

They make eye contact again, and Bin clears his throat. 

“Um, Felix is, uh, coming to the party.” 

Her stomach drops at his name. Whether that’s from anger or something else is unknown. She hides her feelings behind a neutral face. 

“Oh. Well, I knew that. He and Chris have been friends for ages.” 

Nobody’s buying it. 

“Are you sure?” He speaks slowly; he’s scared to spook her. 

“Yes. Just because he can’t be civil doesn’t mean I can’t. Kill ‘em with kindness, yeah?” She shrugs and walks off to her room as casually as she can manage. 

She locks her door behind her and can feel a panic attack rising with every breath. She uses her grounding techniques to fight it off before it consumes her. 

Okay, I have exactly…16 hours to get my shit together. Oh shit. Chris was right. I just need to get through the night, and then I can sit his ass down and sort this shit out. His being into me is the only logical explanation for all his bullshit. It has to be. Yeah, I’m gonna talk to him when this is all over. 

She eventually hears a knocking sound in the back of her mind. It takes a few seconds to register that it is, in fact, a real knocking sound. 

“Hey, y’okay? We can tell him no if that’s what you want. Believe me, I have no issue doing that with how stupid he’s been acting lately.” 

She tries to laugh, but it comes out choked. It’s more air than sound. Some stray tears get eaten, which is weird because she didn’t even realize she was crying. She wipes her face and gets off the bed to unlock the door. 

She’s met on the other side of the door with Chris leaning on the doorframe, a sympathetic look adorning his face. 

“It’s okay, really. One night won’t kill me.” 

“I’d be a shit brother to let him around after all this.” 

“Good thing it’s not your call, then! It’s mine, and I say I want to move forward.” 

Chris nods. He knows when it’s the final straw for her, and she’s nearing it. He doesn’t bring it up again. She’s grateful for it. 

One more day and I’ll get my answers. 

….

….

She jolts awake, a scream echoing through her brain. Was it real? Was it in her head? 

She takes a moment to process her surroundings. The clock says 2:26 am. It’s dark. It’s cold. She realises 3 things:

She had a nightmare.

Felix is not here. She doesn’t know where he is. Thankfully? Unfortunately? Why do I wanna know where he is?

The scream was real, as noted by Chris and Changbin rushing to her room to see what had happened. My bad, bro. 

It takes a cup of tea, half a movie, and an extra body (Changbin) in her room to get her back to sleep. It’s in moments like this that she deeply appreciates the friends she has and the way they support her. 

When she wakes in normal operating hours, Changbin is still asleep in her bed. Granted, he’s somehow wrapped up in two blankets, and one of his legs is hanging off the bed, but he’s still there. She reaches across and attempts to unravel him because it must be hot like that, but all he does is grumble something that sounds like, “Get off my head,” and rolls toward the middle of the bed.

Can't say I didn’t try. 

B leaves him to his fate and gets herself ready for the day. 

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

“Hi! Thank you for coming!” B greets guests happily, hugging and smiling as each person steps over the threshold of her apartment. She gestures to the nearest bedroom, offers them a place to drop their bag and coat, and tells them to enjoy themselves. It’s the same formula for nearly every person. 

While doing rounds, she spots a familiar face by the back door. 

“Look at you, all dressed up!” She wolf whistles at him, and Seungmin’s face reddens, but he brushes her off. Truthfully, it's just a button-up and pants, but he looks good anyway.

“I was told dress nice or die, so.” He does his best to keep a neutral face, but it’s obvious he’s in good spirits. 

“Well, you look very nice. Very handsome.” B teases, pinching at his cheek. She loves to mess with him like an older sister, and as much as he complains, B has a feeling he doesn’t mind one bit. To save face, however, he ducks away and wanders off to find his friend Jeongin. 

Chris is mingling happily as cohost, beer in hand, as he hugs or high-fives his friends who made it out here. Communicating the last-minute change was the hardest part, but they made it work. It's nice to see him relaxed. It doesn’t go unnoticed how he works himself into the ground at that studio of his. Hopefully, this week has been a nice break from that. 

A hand on her back makes her jump,and she gets immediately defensive. Have spins around, ready to say something about personal space, but it’s just Changbin. “My bad, my bad! I didn’t mean to scare you!” He looks…nice. Fitted polo shirt that shows off his arms (shocker) and neutral pants. It’s a good look when you add in the watch on his wrist. 

“Just wanted to tell you that you look cute, Barbie!” He continues, gesturing to the dress B picked for the evening. Black and simple. Hair and makeup to match. 

Elegant. Classy. Easy, breezy, beautiful, covergirl. 

She smiles. “It has pockets!” She dips her hands into the pockets and twirls the dress to show it off. 

“I’m thrilled for you and your pockets. Do you want a drink?” She takes him up on his offer, and he sets off on his mission. 

In the meantime, she checks up on supplies. Everything seems to be good. Something catches her attention back toward the entry, and B’s heart drops to her ass. 

In walks Felix. And he looks divine. Black turtleneck, black pants, he even dyed his hair. She swears time has stopped.

Holy shit. Just, holy shit.

She agreed with everyone earlier against greeting him for fear of a cold shoulder. She knows herself, and she won’t let it slide if he decides to show out today, and today is not the day for that. Tomorrow, definitely, but not today. Instead, she just watches him walk in and barely notices the person following behind him.

Binnie returns with her drink, and they watch Felix timidly approach Chris. They share a mildly awkward embrace. Another person is standing beside Felix, a woman who looks just as, if not more, uncomfortable by the situation. They can’t hear what’s being said, but they see Chris give Felix a weird look before turning his attention to the woman. Chris greets her politely, gestures to the kitchen, and makes eye contact with Bin across. 

It genuinely looks like he’s trying to say something telepathically, and Bin almost looks like he understands. 

Men. How fucking weird. 

Just like it’s weird that Bin steps behind her, semi-casually wrapping an arm around her waist. “Don't do anything crazy.” Is all he says. She’s so busy getting ready to question how much he’s had to drink and what the fuck he means that she doesn’t notice when Felix approaches. Felix clears his throat and stops an awkward distance away. 

She acknowledges him by meeting his eye but doesn’t break Bin’s hold. 

“Felix.” Bin doesn’t hide his ire. Apparently, things haven’t been as smooth as he’s been telling Barbie it has been. She makes a mental note to bring it up later. 

“Long time no see, huh?” He attempts a laugh, but it falls flat.

B scoffs. “And whose fault is that?”

Bin squeezes her waist, a warning. She ‘accidentally’ steps on his foot in response.

“How are you?” He looks straight at B. He almost sounds…genuine. She contemplates giving him a real answer. Changbin answers before she can say anything-“We’re fine.” 

Felix goes silent. The moment stretches, long and very awkward. It’s becoming more and more uncomfortable with each blink, and B prepares to just walk away before Bin decides to speak up. 

“Who’s your friend?” He gestures to the woman pretending to look around the room. Felix reaches for her hand, and she smiles, interlocking their fingers. She’s pretty. Like, really pretty. Between the two of them, B’s not exactly sure who she should be looking at. 

“This is my girlfriend, Aila.”

Changbin’s grip on ‘his’ girl tightens. 

I think I’m gonna throw up.

[vettelsdarling]

Omgg I felt in the mood for some 1D and was listening to “Change my mind” and all I can think about is Lando, so like a friends to lover, mutual pining slow burn and was wondering if you can write a fic based off that pls? Your writing is too good 😩❤️

𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬..?

Lissie note… I hadn’t heard the song until now, but it’s pretty good! I really enjoyed writing this, thank you for the great idea!!! Tysm for the kind words as well, you’re so sweet!<3

Things to note:

Reader is a college student graduating early (so basically her junior yr)

Lando and Reader are both clueless

Lando and Reader have been best friends since childhood

This doesn’t follow a specific timeline

Charlotte is amazing

Pairing: Lando Norris x Best friend!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Slight cursing

Word Count: 5.3k+

Playlist recommendations: 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟💗, 𝐋𝐍𝟒

Taglist: @ophcelia, @allwaysallyway

The Abu Dhabi Grand Prix. The last race of the season, and one that you always attended despite your busy schedule. It was something you simply couldn't skip, even if you wanted to.

Lando Norris, your long-term best friend, had been there for you through thick and thin. You’d just started your junior year in college, and it was nothing but constant pressure. Lando would call you late at night to help you with anything you needed. Therefore, you came to any races that you had time for. Abu Dhabi, however, was non-negotiable. You had to be there. Especially seeing as it meant you’d finally have more time to spend with the Brit. Whenever a season would come to a close, he’d spend his time with you.

Your parents were great friends with his, so it was only natural for the two of you to have grown up together. You came to many of his karting sessions to cheer him on, whilst he attended your spelling bees and other academic competitions. It was a give-and-take relationship that you couldn’t wish differently for the world. He was truly the only friend you could lean on.

He’d driven you to college. He’d helped you unpack. All the whilst you’d frequently check up on him and stream all of his races. Somehow, the two of you made that friendship work. It was something like giving and taking. You were one of the reasons why he chose to pursue his passion. In the beginning, he felt discouraged due to the amount of pressure, but with your words of encouragement, he pulled through.

Sitting on your bed in your shared hotel room, you admired a pair of earrings that Lando had gotten for you. Apparently, he wanted to have you attend a special gathering before Friday would dawn the free practice rounds. You’d done a week’s worth of work in advance to appease your professors by your absence, so taking some days off never proved a hassle.

“Hey, can you tell me how long I have left?!” The Brit yelled from the shower. He wasn’t the type to rush, and was often “fashionably late”. Excuses of various kinds were his forté, and you could only go along with whatever ruse he brewed up every time. You didn’t mind though. He was a nice change of pace from the back-to-back seminars and classes you had to sit through.

“About 20 minutes until we have to leave!” He didn’t reply, but you knew he’d gotten the message.

You continued to eye the jewelry in your palms. It was an intricate design with different gemstones in one piece. It was quite beautiful. Something you wouldn’t see at any regular jeweler. Lando was generous, if anything. You always tried to refuse his gifts, but would eventually wake up to a present by your bedside table. There was really no stopping him. If he wanted to spoil you rotten, he was going to do it without fail. You would surely end up a soaked sponge from everything you were taking in. He didn’t ask anything in return, besides your company and support. Something as simple as that sufficed. You couldn’t understand his train of thought, but that’s what made him unique.

That’s what first made you fall for him. Slowly but surely. There was no way to tell him though. He was far too occupied to be dating, and you were swamped with work. It wasn’t in the stars for the two of you. Lando never even showed an ounce of romantic interest anyway, so all you could do was hope your feelings would die down. Simple and easy… right?

The paparazzi knew that your friendship with the McLaren driver was old news and not worth spreading rumours about, so when you arrived at the gala, there was no big fuss about it. You’d attended several events as his plus one. Additionally, you were well acquainted with the rest of the grid, by now the whole world knew that you were simply a close friend. Not a wag.

The gala was grand. From gorgeous chandeliers and fancy ceiling decor to fine dining, you couldn’t see an end to the luxury. Frat parties were a far cry from this lifestyle. Although you’d been to several gala dinners with your best friend, they only seemed to climb the sophistication ladder every year.

Since Lando had to talk to certain people at the event, you decided to mingle. What better way to move on from Lando, than to get with someone else? The least you could do was try. College boys were nothing compared to the men you saw lingering behind pillars and swirling wine.

“Oh hey, you!” Someone yelled from behind you.

“Lewis! It’s so nice to see you. We haven’t seen each other in a while.” The champion was a nice try, but you couldn’t. He was a close friend and it felt wrong. Almost as if you’d be dating your brother.

“You here with Norris?” You nodded at his question, quickly grabbing a flute of champagne as a waiter passed by.

“How’s college? I hear you’re graduating early?”

“I am! Yeah, I just took on a lot of work. I’d rather get out in the field sooner than later, you know?” You’d finish your junior year as your senior. That had been your plan from the beginning. You worked yourself to the bone, taking up extra assignments to get more credit.

“I get you, I probably would’ve done the same. You’re really admirable.” After you shot him a quick smile, the two of you were interrupted by Charles and Charlotte. It was obvious that the Monegasque had been dragged along by his girlfriend. Your favourite girl.

“Charlotte! Oh, it’s been too long!” The two of you immediately embraced each other, careful to not spill any champagne. She was stunning, wearing a gorgeous Prada maxi gown with a high slit. It was to die for, but so was your Alexander McQueen deconstructed trench dress. Anyone within a 50-kilometer radius would notice how it complimented your curves and the colour of your skin.

“It really has. It’s such a shame that I only ever get to see you at small events and at Abu Dhabi. You should come to more races. I know Lando misses you,” she teased the last part, but it still tugged at your heart. The slightest possibility that it was true… You wanted to believe it. So badly it hurt.

“He’ll have to exercise patience,” you chuckled and downed the last bit of champagne you had left. Charles and Lewis were somehow deep in conversation, so Charlotte decided to sneak you away.

The two of you were sat at a table near the back where the atmosphere was significantly heavier. It wasn’t as light as up front, but the dimmed lights made it cozy enough to sit and chat.

“So, tell me about you and Lando,” she said as if there was something between you and the McLaren driver. She knew very well that there wasn’t anything going on, but she had that feeling. You were hiding something.

“I mean… It's the same as always. We’ve been texting back and forth whilst I was busy with my classes and stuff. Nothing out of the ordinary?” It was the truth, but it definitely wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She proceeded to make that very clear to you,

“You know that’s not what I mean…”

“I don’t know what you mean, Cha.”

“Of course you do. I’ve seen the way you look at Lando. It’s very obvious.” She heavily emphasized ‘very’ and dragged out the ‘e’ in it. Charlotte was the type of person who you just couldn’t hide anything from. The girl was a literal detective.

“Is it really?” She could only nod pitifully at your question.

Sure, you’d started seeing Lando in a different light as of late. The way he walked, the way he talked, the way he looked at you as if he was in love with you whenever you spoke. You knew most of your notes were delusional. You were stuck on an island. That island being: Delusion Island.

“I hate myself.” You sighed and let your head fall onto the clothes table. Charlotte stroked the back of your head gently to console you.

“Does he know?” She posed a question she already knew the answer to, and when you didn’t respond— she confirmed it.

“I can’t tell you exactly what to do, but Lando is going to find out eventually.” You didn’t even want to think about that possibility. Burying your feelings and crushing them into oblivion was your only option and it seemed like the most viable one.

“The future version of me will have to deal with that. I can’t handle it right now.” You found little strength to pick yourself up and get another flute of champagne.

The rest of the night was spent drinking and blabbering. Charlotte was able to talk for hours on end, and so were you. It was one of the reasons the two of you were close. She was your favorite of all the drivers’ girlfriends. She and Kika both. Though you weren’t as close to Pierre as you were to most of the grid. Especially Lando.

When Lando found you again, you were absolutely shit-faced. You were slurring nonsensical words that melted together into a concoction of a drunken mess. Charlotte was just as far gone. Charles was able to carry her home though. Lando had to make a split-second decision. Was he really going to carry you?

It wasn’t a case of wanting to. He definitely did. The Brit was practically obsessed with you. For most of his life, he’d been orbiting you. Ever since the two of you were in your teens, he’d been utterly and irrevocably in love with you. You, however, were busy studying and he was busy with his growing career in racing. He was worried you’d never notice, but he also didn’t want you to. There was something holding him back. The looming doom of uncertainty. You were this gorgeous and intelligent woman, with eyes that looked as if they’d been painted by one of the greats during the era of romanticism.

Seeing you there on the table, totally blacked out and out of touch with reality, he wanted to be your knight in shining armor. For one night, he wanted to be the man of your dreams. There was one problem though. The paparazzi. He’d successfully fended them off about dating rumours between the two of you. But if he were to walk out with you slung over his back, he was feeding that bone to the hungry hounds of the media. Not exactly the best idea. It boiled down to you or his reputation. Which did he care about the most? Which would he prioritize?

“Fuck it.” He picked your drunken body up and slung it over his back, securing your arms around his neck. You weren’t heavy, but you were making it difficult for him with all of your kicking and wiggling.

“Leave me alone. I need to find Lando. Put me down,” You kept repeating words in a similar fashion until he finally brought you to his car. As he fastened your seatbelt, he saw the look on your wiped-out face. Even with runny mascara and bloodshot eyes, you were ethereal. Truly something else.

“Lando?” Hearing his name leave your lips nearly made his heart do a double take, much like his eyes.

“Yes, love?”

“I really have to use the bathroom.” How to ruin a perfect moment 101. But he could only laugh. It was cute.

“I’ll get you home in time, don’t worry darling.” He got in next to you and started the engine. The hotel wasn’t far, luckily, so you didn’t have to wait much to get your guts spilled into the toilet bowl. Lando held your hair in a makeshift ponytail, as he gently patted your back. Turning your insides out cleared your mind a little bit, and in turn, utter embarrassment filled every crook and nanny of your body. You felt it all the way to the tips of your fingers clutching the toilet seat.

“Ugh, you shouldn’t see me like this, Lan.” You sighed and fell back into his arms. He didn’t mind this. He let you rest there, whilst you slowly started drifting off. The alcohol levels were still rising and you weren’t coming down anytime soon. You were tired. Your eyes threatened to close.

“I don’t care. I really don’t. You mean the world to me. Something like this doesn’t matter to me.” He clutched you like he did his stuffed animals when he was a little boy. There was a newfound comfort in doing this. Something that he knew was limited. Something he knew he’d never get to experience again.

“I’m only telling you this because I know you won’t remember it,” Lando began, as he didn’t want to miss the opportunity,

“I love it when you give me attention. I love it when you cheer me on. Nobody’s opinion matters, but yours. I really only care about yours. I know you don’t feel the same way, but you’re all I think about, You’ve all I’ve ever thought about since we were teenagers. It’s stupid, I know. That’s why I’m saying it now.” Despite the lack of response, his chest felt lighter. Much lighter.

You woke up in your bed with a pounding head and an unreal nausea. Shit. You were going to miss Lando’s practice sessions. You were still in your expensive designer dress, but your makeup had been washed off. On the bedside table, you saw a piece of paper. “Don’t worry about today. Just relax and I’ll be back later. See you. -Lando”. Was there really no end to his thoughtfulness?

“Fuck me, my head…” You groaned and haphazardly made your way to the bathroom. With no ibuprofen let alone Panadol, a splash of water to the face was the only cure. That or a cold shower.

You decided on the latter. After stripping out of your dress, you stepped into the shower and turned it on. The initial sensation of the icy water made your body feel almost electrical, but it soon subsided.

It was hard to recollect any memories from the night before. All that was left in your brain was flashes of Charlotte and more than just a few flutes of champagne. No matter how desperate you were for more information, you simply couldn’t retrieve it. Just trying to think back made your head pound even harder than it already was.

As you stepped out and dressed in one of Lando’s hoodies with some shorts, you fell back into bed. Your body felt too heavy to sit up straight, and you were still subconsciously trying to remember more details.

“I’m never drinking again…” you sighed and eyed the off-white ceiling. Your train of thought trailed towards the McLaren driver. The way he always looked out for you and took care of you if you needed it. You’d never been in any relationships, but you knew that Lando was the perfect guy. He was exactly what you were looking for. It was nothing but a chimera. You could only wish to feel the warmth of his chest against your head.

Speak of the devil, you heard the door open and saw Lando trying to get in without making much noise. He could’ve sworn his heart tumbled around inside his chest when he saw you in his hoodie. The way your shorts were barely visible due to his size being bigger than yours… it did wonders to his imagination.

“You’re awake,” he groaned as he put his things on the ground beside the door.

“That I am.” You smiled and watched as he let his tired body fall back onto his bed, cracking his neck and sighing in relief.

“Need a massage?”

“That’d be great, actually.” After he dragged his tired body to your bed, the two of you shifted in the bed, so that his head was in your criss-crossed laps. You proceeded to work the kinks in his shoulders, pressing your thumb against his skin in circles. The satisfaction on his face was enough to make the rest of your weekend.

“Why study when you can be a masseuse?”

“I’m not that good, Lan.” You moved onto his neck, which you found out was the place he needed to be kneaded the most. He flinched and seethed through his teeth, obviously feeling the exhaustion from the g force on-track.

“Sorry, it hurts. You’ll have to endure it until the pain subsides. It’ll feel good soon. I promise.” As you continued to work his neck, the Brit couldn’t help but take a peek at your face. Your eyes met his and it felt somewhat domestic. It was then, he realized just how domestic the situation was. You were both in bed, with him in your lap and you giving him a massage. That little hope he had left turned into determination. Even if you most likely weren’t into him, he’d want to fight. He wasn’t patient enough to wait around, and with your college situation almost coming to an end— it was the perfect time to make a move.

You felt your face heat up at the eye contact. Never did you even think that he’d be so bold. Yet, you couldn’t pull away from his gaze. You were completely lost in him. A tinge of lament filled your chest, knowing that you’d be selfish to do something in the moment. He was busy racing and probably saw you as a sister anyway. A kiss was completely off the table.

“There you go. Does it feel better?” You let go of him for his own sake. He got up and stretched, noticing how much lighter he felt.

“You’re amazing, thanks for that.” Just seeing his smile had to be enough for you.

You sat beside Charlotte as the two of you watched the qualifying session in full swing. She wore a vintage summer dress, whilst you’d gone for a sophisticated but simple jumpsuit look.

“I missed the practice rounds yesterday,” you groaned and facepalmed.

“Don’t worry, I did too. There was no way I was getting out of bed with that headache,” she chuckled and fiddled with her phone to take pictures as Charles approached the view. She managed to capture his car speeding by and cheered him on with a wide smile on her face.

“So, what are you going to do about Lando?” She tilted her head to the side and gave you her undivided attention.

“I don’t know. He doesn’t even like me, why should I even try? I mean can you even hear what I’m saying? ‘Like’? It’s as if I’m back in high school. It’s so childish.” You desperately wanted to forget about him, but it would break him if you started distancing yourself. You were the closest friend he ever had and you knew it.

“Childish? It’s normal. You’re into him and if he doesn’t see how great that is, he’s just not worth it.” She was the voice of reason you depended on to save your life.

“Cha, I don’t want to lose him.” You saw a livery with the number ‘4’ on it. Your chest felt tight as it sped past you.

“You won’t, okay? You won’t lose him. I mean, the two of you share a hotel room. Separate beds, but a hotel room nonetheless. Ever wondered why he doesn’t just get you your own room?” She had a pretty clear point, but in your land of delusion— it was useless. It was nonsense.

“I don’t know, Cha… he probably does it ‘cause it’s cheaper, you know?” You wanted to believe her, but a part of you couldn’t take the risk.

“The fact that he let you sleep in until he came back late yesterday… I mean, come on.”

“I guess? When he came back, I offered him a massage and we had this weird moment. I don’t know if that’s just me though.” Charlotte had to do a double take at what just came out of your mouth.

“You did what?!”

“Quiet, please. I don’t want all of the paddock to know!” She proceeded to spill out a slew of quiet apologies.

“You’re telling me he let you massage him after midnight? That’s not just you. That is a moment. Why would you even doubt this?” You shrugged and sighed. Were you just missing all the signs? Were you really that dense?

“Okay, look. How about you go ask Kelly to ask Max about him?” It wasn’t a bad idea per se. There was one problem though. You almost never talked to Kelly, only ever passing by her in the paddock with a smile and a wave.

“I don’t really know her though. How can I ask something like that of her?” You were nearing the end of your rope, wanting to give up and let the last slither of hope you had left get crushed.

“Any woman would help out another desperate one.” Desperate. Was that really what you were being branded as? Perhaps it was accurate. Kelly really was your last ticket out of Delusion Land.

“Fine. I’ll go ask her, but where is she?” Charlotte pointed down, signaling she was in the garage. If that wouldn’t be awkward, you didn’t know what it would be.

“Shit, fine. Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it.”

Charlotte turned out to be right. Kelly was in the garage with a set of headphones on. Her focus on the screen in front of her showed her dedication to her lover. Something you’d want to do for Lando… if only that’d ever happen. You approached her with a strong heartbeat, and a slight shortness of breath, and tapped her shoulder. Noticing you, she took her headphones off and smiled,

“Hey there?” The higher octave by the end went a long way to show her confusion. In her eyes, you were just an acquaintance. Neither of you had ever made any small talk and whatnot. So when you pulled her aside, she was completely lost.

“What’s going on?” She asked and furrowed her eyebrows.

“I need your help… I’m kind of desperate.” Having those words leave your mouth was beyond embarrassing and you felt so childish.

“Oh? I do think I have some stuff in my purse if you’ll give me a moment—”

“No no! That’s not what I need at all!” Fuck. You were getting cold feet. Standing there in front of her like a fool was somehow worse than just confessing.

“So then… what do you need?”

“Max.” Your mind was too scrambled to even string a coherent sentence together. Kelly’s eyes flew open and her face grimaced.

“No! Um, I need you to ask Max something.” She squinted her eyes in suspicion but was willing to hear you out.

“Could you please ask him if he knows anything about Lando? Just anything at all? As in… if Lando has any feelings for me. Just casually, you know?” Kelly was obviously relieved enough to help you out, so she gave you a thumbs up and the two of you exchanged socials so that she could update you. Weird way to make friends, but whatever.

You decided not to go back up to Charlotte, but take a little trip to the Mercedes garage. The team had made a blunder which left their no. 1 driver out of Q2. You went in to chat him up and possibly console him. He was a great friend, and you needed to take your mind off Lando for a bit.

Lando finished qualifying in the front row behind Max, which left him feeling better than ever. When he saw that you weren’t in your usual spot though, a mix of emotions tumbled over him like that of a flood. You were in the Mercedes garage for some reason, talking to none other than Lewis. He saw the way you almost choked when laughing at his jokes. The way you looked at him. Listening and being attentive was a special talent of yours. Whoever you’d look at, it would always look as if you were deeply infatuated with them. All because you were one hell of a listener. It was one of the many things Lando adored about you.

“Mate, what are you staring at?” Max slung an arm around Lando’s neck and looked in the same direction to spot whatever the Brit was so invested in.

“Oh… I see. You’re jealous.” Lando snapped out of it and felt his head drop.

“Nah man, I just wanted to see how Lewis was doing.”

“That’s bullshit.” It was. Seeing you be so close with another man, let alone another driver— it was too much for him. He’d done subtle things to get you to notice his feelings. Always booking just one hotel room, Driving you to your college campus, calling you whenever you had time— even if it meant he’d have to miss out on a good night’s sleep.

“You should tell her.” Lando nearly lost it when you pulled the Mercedes in for a hug. Luckily though, it was short and you left shortly after. Conveniently enough, you noticed Lando with Max, which sent him into a state of panic.

“What do I do?”

“Just do whatever you think is right.” As you approached the two of them, Max waved and left the two of you to talk. Lando was frazzled and it was obvious.

“Hey, what’s up? Congrats on the position, Lan. I’m proud of you!” Your smile and your excitement regarding his near-win were enough to squeeze his heart dry for juice.

“Thanks, I’m glad you’re here to see it.” The two of you began walking towards the McLaren motorhome when you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. It was a text from Kelly. Unfortunately, Lando was right beside you and managed to see the notification.

“You hang out with Kelly?”

“Um well, yeah! We talk all the time. I thought you knew?” You deserved an Oscar for that quick save.

“Nice, we should go on a double date with Max and her soon.” You nearly cracked your neck, turning to face him.

“Excuse me?”

“Hey, calm down. It was a joke.” That was half the truth. In reality, he just wanted to see your reaction to the suggestion. Something told him Max didn’t have a point.

“Mhm.” You rolled your eyes at him and rested your hands on your hips.

“Actually, I have something important to tell you when we get back to the hotel.” Something didn’t feel right about him saying that. He rarely talked about serious things, but his tone was almost anxious. It was a side of him you’d never seen before.

When you finally got back to your shared room, you changed into something more comfortable whilst Lando took a shower. You went through your nightly routine; stripping your face of makeup, rubbing serum into your pores, and caring for the roots of your hair. Spoiling yourself was important to you. Almost as important as studying, really.

“Hey, can you pass me the comb?” You’d been too distracted to notice Lando finishing. You found the comb in the drawer of the vanity, turning to hand it to him. That’s when you saw him. Fresh nightwear and still dripping wet hair. It was the most attractive thing you’d ever witnessed in your entire life. Including meeting several heartthrob celebrities at races.

“You’re staring, you know?” Oh, you knew.

“So are you.” He was. His eyes searched for something behind yours. Any sign that you one day could be his.

“Touché.” He combed through his hair with a serum. Hair and skin care was something that you’d forced upon him. Safe to say you changed the rest of his life for the better.

He finished up and tugged himself under the fluffy white duvet. It was sort of contradictory sleeping with air conditioning, but still tugging yourself under heavy covers. He was cute. You weren’t nearly as tired as he was yet, so you decided to scroll through your socials before finally dozing off. The two of you had completely forgotten about what the curly-haired brunette had wanted to talk about. It didn’t matter though, as it was only a matter of time before it was going to be revealed.

You’d done your hair and makeup, spending nearly two hours total perfecting yourself. Lando waited by the door, calling your name several times. With the last puff of your setting powder, you quickly gathered your things and ran for the door. The Brit seemed stoked for the race, but that wasn’t the only thing his insides were churning for.

The two of you arrived at the paddock in style. You wore a Vivienne Westwood tennis skirt, paired with a knitted sweater from the same collection. Your purse was Prada, and your shoes were Yves Saint Laurent. Lando had showed up in Quadrant merchandise, whilst also rocking a pair of shorts, courtesy of McLaren.

The Brit brunette was going to aim for pole position in Abu Dhabi, and he was going to confess before the interviews. That was his plan. Though a sappy one, he knew you’d appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.

You had once again decided to observe the race with Charlotte. Being in the garage was far too hectic with all of the engineers watching the race in anticipation. Sure, you were rooting for Lando, but you were no fanatic like them. Nor were you extremely loud about it. However, you definitely understood their passion. If it was your job, you would’ve been just as hyped and on edge for every race.

“Do you think Lando is going to win?” Charlotte asked, leaning against the railing overlooking the pit lane.

“Maybe. I can’t say for sure. I mean, he did well in qualifying?” You were quite literally manifesting a pole position for him. If you had a sigil and a set of candles, you would’ve performed a ritual. It wasn’t so much of an obsession as it was pure dedication to your best friend. What it really was— was love. You were utterly and hopelessly in love with the man. From the way he’d laugh at your sub-par jokes, to the way he’d drive you to and from campus.

“I think he’s going to win.” Charlotte was usually cheering her boyfriend on, but this time was completely different. She was rooting for you.

“What makes you say that?”

“Love.”

Lando managed to squeeze in a photo finish, nearly missing out on pole. All of the McLaren team gave you space to embrace him. The hug felt tighter than usual. Almost as if he was saying “I made it”.

“Lando, this is amazing! I am so so so proud of you.” That brief moment felt like heaven on earth to him.

“Can I tell you something?” He leaned in, but not too close for comfort.

“Yeah?”

“I’m so tired of chasing and I want to stop it. You can deny my feelings, but I have completely fallen for you.” You hesitated as your heart felt like it had been caught in your throat. You felt a strike of heat reach your face, watching Lando wait eagerly for your response. Shame you were at a loss for words, but then again— perhaps a blessing?

You immediately pulled him in for a kiss, hearing all of the fans roar and the teams gasp. Lando melted into it, cupping your cheeks with his hands. You felt the soft material of his gloves against your skin. When you finally pulled away, you decided to give him a proper response,

“You have me, as long as I have you.”

𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝗰𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗱...

𝗜 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗮 𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗻𝘁 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗰𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻.

𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚!

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩! (𝙄𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙣, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨, 𝙙𝙢𝙨, 𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙨: 𝙒𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧(𝙨) 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚(𝙨) 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣.)

[v3nusxsky]

hiiiiii since today is my bday I was thinking if I could request lesso x female reader with loooots of comfort where lesso found out that today is r’s bday but she kept it a secret because she hated her birthdays and lesso felt sad for r so she surprised her 💛 thank u sm

A day to remember

*Authors note~ Drabble time i got this request around my birthday and birthdays are hard for me so I decided to wait until I had healed over my 21st before posting this which is based off my story*

Trigger warnings~ Vanishing Twin Syndrome (VTS) pregnancy loss and the aftereffects on the living twin, grief, that’s all I think?

Birthdays are meant to be joyful and memorable. The one day of the year that’s yours to feel special and loved. Any birthday parties you attended you’d seen parents beaming with pride, celebrating their child. Only on your birthday, your mother cried. In your younger years you didn’t realise that fact, too distracted by the colourful paper and what was inside. But as you grew you became more aware of your mothers tears.

On your tenth birthday you caught her crying in her room, not understanding why she wasn’t happy. You are the big ten now! Surely that’s a good thing? But that is when she told you that it wasn’t just your birthday, you have a twin. Honestly, you could’ve laughed it off if it wasn’t for the constant feeling of loneliness and the unusual attachment you have to your bear given to you at birth. From then on, birthdays became reminders, a day to grieve for you and your mother.

The bigger birthdays were always the hardest, turning twenty one alone, knowing the big celebration should be joint. Weeks of planning should’ve been spent over what cake you’d have, where you’d go, what you’d do, were spent alone wondering what you would do with the day. It shouldn’t be the way that it is and you knew that.

Leonora knew your story, but had fought hard to discover when your birthday was, she simply couldn’t let your 25th birthday slide by unnoticed. You were a quarter of a century old and that needed to be celebrated. Of course she knew you wouldn’t want a fuss, you’d wake up and cry in her arms missing your twin, then she’d manage to convince you to eat something small before you’d crawl back into bed under the mountains of blankets ready to sleep the day away. Well not this year.

On the dreaded day, the routine started as normal, she held you as you cried whispering words of love and reassurance that your twin would want you to celebrate not spend all day sad. This year she couldn’t coax you out of bed for breakfast so she brought breakfast to you, a single pink rose on the tray. On said rose, a little bit of paper tied with a piece of pink string stating, “happy 25th sis! Gods we are old now huh? Celebrate on earth for me, and I’ll celebrate in the sky, forever your twin.”

More tears flowing at the thoughtful gesture from your Leo had you agreeing to get out of bed at least, a small but vital step. After breakfast Leonora dragged you to the bathroom where she pampered her girl after making you promise not to tell a soul, after all she’s still the Dean of Evil. From there she surprised you with gifts, only small but intimate items, loved nonetheless by you which made it worth it. Around the evening the real plan would begin.

After your favourite meal and some more tears, you and Leonora walked hand in hand to the gardens. The stars shining on full display as you stood underneath there glow. “It’s beautiful Nora” you murmured, seemingly mesmerised by the brightest star in the sky. “I figured we’d stand here and wish your twin the best birthday also, I know how much you miss them and we’ll they certainly are the brightest star in the sky dove.”

Most people wouldn’t understand why you cling to the woman, sobbing in her arms at a simple walk under the stars, but you knew she did. “Shh darling, I know it’s okay. I know you miss them sweet girl. It’s okay, I’m here dove let it out” among other reassurances where murmured out in between kisses being dropped to the crown of your head. After some time, soothing classical music suddenly surrounds you causing you to pull back in confusion, “Nora?”

“My sweet little dove, I wanted to make today special for you and well I thought this would be the perfect place and time. Forgive me not being on one knee but here under the brightest star in the sky I wanted to ask you if you would be my wife” she rushed out, it was rare for Leonora to show her nerves but they were soon washed away when you jumped into her arms repeatedly saying yes. The ring slipped perfectly onto your left ring finger, and that’s when Leonora made a promise to never let you not celebrate both your birthdays, the walk under the stars becoming a tradition for you both.

[fvrtvne]

PART II : REUNION (for @magecrashout)

years had faded kirkwall from surface memory, and alcohol did just the trick of keeping the nightmares at bay. seas of corpses still riled and stoked the occasional dream—blood pooling like waves over cobblestones—but through the strumming, panicked heartbeat of isabela's, she knew she was truly alive. barely, but alive all the same.

when varric had petitioned for her aid in a holy conquest, she'd almost laughed it off, thinking it some half-drunk whimsy of his. but he was an old friend, one of the few constants from those years who hadn't turned his back. she owed him enough to at least consider it, even if the idea of trekking to skyhold felt like some maker-blighted joke. still, curiosity—if not loyalty—had its claws in her. and so, she went.

the approach was harrowing, the cold biting straight through her leathers despite the fur-lined boots and heavy coat she’d donned for the journey. isabela loathed the mountains. they were dry and bone-deep miserable, the opposite of her beloved seas. to her, cold air didn’t belong anywhere near a sailor—she wanted salt, not frost, in her hair. and yet, as she approached the gates, another chill sank in: an old, familiar pang of longing. for a fleeting moment, she tossed a glance over her shoulder, half-expecting someone to appear at her side, trading biting remarks or, at the very least, a smirk.

but there was no one. only the snow, crunching beneath her boots.

inside the walls of skyhold, the warmth of a fire barely made up for the parade of holy fervor. maker's breath, was she really surrounded by people who called themselves the 'inquisition'? she bit back a laugh and instead sought out varric, who greeted her as if she’d just stepped off the docks in kirkwall. his tone was as roguish as ever, and his arms opened wide in that way of his that instantly reminded her of better days.

" rivaini! " he bellowed, stocky and swaggering, a knight of some sort trailing behind him like a lost mabari pup.

she managed a smirk. " varric! didn't expect your…religious awakening to involve full plate armor and a babysitter. you’ve really outdone yourself. "

it was easy enough to fall back into their old rhythm. between them, many drinks were shared, and laughter came easier than she’d thought it might, though only when the subject strayed far from kirkwall. varric had a knack for smoothing over jagged memories with well-placed humor, steering the conversation into shallow, safe waters. still, she caught the occasional flicker in his gaze—a sideways glance that lingered too long, a measured silence before his next joke. he was weighing her, she realized, measuring whether the past had softened her or rendered her edges sharper.

she let him avoid hawke's name for a while, but the unspoken weight in the room gnawed at her. as much as she wanted to leave that chapter buried, its ghost haunted every corner of her thoughts. it wasn’t anger or guilt—not exactly. more like a bruise you couldn’t help but press, just to feel where it still hurt.

the nights in skyhold only made it worse. whatever dreams the fade stirred weren’t worth the few hours of sleep she managed. corpses filled her dreams, drowning her in a tide of blood and chaos that dragged her down no matter how hard she fought. waking was little better—each sunrise felt like another battle she was losing.

she must've looked rough, because it didn’t take much for varric to suggest an unusual solution. " anti-magic runes, " he’d said, all too casually, like he wasn’t up to something. " there's a vault nearby. cold as a nug’s ass, but quiet as death. might help you get some proper sleep. "

" maker, you’re convincing, " she muttered, arms crossed over her chest as she followed him through the halls. the frost nipped at her ears, her breath puffing white in the air as they approached the heavy door.

varric kept up his usual patter, regaling her with stories of aveline and kirkwall's newest disasters, but the ease in his voice felt a little too practiced. she noticed, but let it slide. maybe she wanted to let it slide.

when they stopped in front of the vault, varric slapped the door with a grin that was just a shade too wide. " don't worry about it, rivaini. i'll come check on you in about eight hours.

get yourself some beauty sleep—you’re starting to look like twice-baked nug-shit. can’t have that, can we? "

" about eight hours? " she snorted, already reaching for the door handle. " there better be— "

" blankets and plenty of rum. trust me. " he pushed lightly at the small of her back, ushering her inside before she could protest.

the door slammed shut with a resounding thud before she even realized he wasn’t following. " maker’s balls, varric! " she hissed, turning to face the sealed vault.

the room was sparse, save for a large mattress piled with mismatched blankets and a bottle of something dark sitting on a crate nearby. isabela dragged herself toward the makeshift bed, muttering under her breath. " andraste’s tits, you bloody dwarf. i swear if this is your idea of a joke… "

she flopped onto the mattress, shivering as she burrowed under the blankets. the air was still, the faint hum of magic-dampening runes thrumming in the walls. it was unnervingly quiet—almost peaceful if not for the rising suspicion that varric had set her up for something.

uncorking the bottle of rum, she took a long pull before setting it aside, her back pressing against the steady hum of the wall. the quiet felt strange, heavy in a way she couldn’t place, but it tugged at her all the same. as her eyes fluttered and the room blurred into shadow, she let out a soft sigh. maybe, just this once, she could let herself sleep.

[virizona]

Rest and Reassurance

Pairing: Luis Serra x Reader (AFAB)

Warnings: None; all fluff. Potential spoilers for the game

Summary: After the events of Resident Evil 4, you, Leon, Ashley, and Luis escape to a safe house off the horrific island to rest and recuperate, awaiting extraction.

Word Count: 2,270

A/N: This has been sitting completed since like June, so time to post my first ever Luis Serra fic! Spanish is not my first language, but I am learning, so I'm open to any corrections on the Spanish sprinkled in here.

— 

It was a long jet ski ride away from the plague-infested island. At least it and the cult were reduced to ashes now.

The mission you and Leon Kennedy were sent on should have been a simple fetch quest: recover the President’s daughter, Ashley Graham. But, of course, things always had to go sideways. The three of you ended up infected with Las Plagas, the mind-controlling, body-disfiguring parasite. Turns out, the leader of Los Illuminados, Osmund Saddler, planned to inject Ashley with the parasite all along as a way to get to the President.

It was a long and grueling mission between locating Ashley, finding a cure, and stopping Saddler (not to mention a run-in with Leon’s old Major, Jack Krauser). But, there was a silver lining to it all: you met Luis Serra Nevarro.

Luis was a charmer through and through. He was flirtatious from the very first moment you were introduced to each other. You thought his advances would be more distracting, but they were honestly a welcoming reprieve from the constant fight or flight moments. What sealed your trust in the Spaniard however, was he was the one who knew how to cure your Las Plagas problem. A former Umbrella researcher, Luis was tricked into working for Saddler after he fled his previous employer. Holding onto his belief that people can change, Luis brought you, Leon, and Ashley to his lab where he held the cure: a radiation procedure that targeted and eradicated the parasite growing within your bodies.

To say you owed the man your life would be an understatement. You glanced at his stubbled face from where he rested over your left shoulder, hair blowing in the wind as you zipped across the water. His arms held snugly around your waist as you drove after Leon and Ashley’s water craft. The rising sun brought a pleasant warmth to your face, as if the world was showing you there was hope on the horizon.

— 

Disembarking from the jet skis, you followed Leon ashore. He was saying something about a safe house that Hunnigan located you could use, just until she could send in a helicopter for you all. 

It was well hidden within a forest a few miles inland. The hike was worth it alone for the chance to take a hot shower and sleep in a clean bed. The safe house was sparse, but it held all the necessary amenities: a kitchen, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a tiny living space. Leon was quick to designate the bedrooms, one for you and Ashley to share and the other for him and Luis.

“Actually, Leon, I think I would feel better if you stayed in the room with me.” Ashley spoke up, sounding slightly embarrassed about her request. It wasn’t unreasonable though, the blonde man did protect and save her countless times in your efforts to escape the parasitic cult. It made sense she would feel safer sleeping with his presence in the room.

Leon opened his mouth to likely protest, but was cut off by Luis clapping his hands together once. “No problemo, mis amigos! Mi amor y yo can take the other room.” He flashed a grin that would have had you blushing if you hadn’t been solely focused on that much needed hot shower.

“You guys decide whatever, but I need a shower and then I’m going to sleep for at least 24 hours. Wake me when the chopper arrives.” You waved a dismissive hand as you made for one of the bathrooms. You caught the sound of a weary sigh from Leon as you left the front room.

— 

The hot water beating on your back felt heavenly after trudging through cold, rainy weather during most of the mission. You tipped your face up to the steady spray, sighing in relief as the grime ran off your body, pooling on the shower floor and into the drain. Now that you were no longer running for your life, exhaustion hit like a freight train and you had to steady yourself with a hand on the slick, tiled wall. You jolted as a knock on the bathroom door interrupted your peace.

“Mi amor, estás bien?” It was only Luis, his thick accent muffled by the barrier. “You’ve been in there for quite a while.”

“I’m fine.” You called out wearily. “Just tired is all.”

There was a long pause and you thought he was satisfied with that answer, except you never heard his retreating footsteps. Then, he spoke again. “May I come in?” You waited a few beats, taken slightly aback by his question and unsure how to answer. Luis continued talking. “I found some clean clothes for you.” You were a bit baffled as to how there was clothing stocked in the place, but you decided not to question it too much.

Taking a deep breath, you relented to the Spaniard’s offer. “Come in.” You turned your back to the semi-opaque shower door as a precaution as Luis entered the room. 

“Phew, you weren’t kidding about the hot shower!” He exclaimed as the steam and humidity hit him. His shoes clicked softly on the tile floor as he moved over to the bathroom sink, placing some folded clothes on the counter there. “I’ll leave them by the sink for you then get out of your hair.” You could practically hear the wry smile in his voice. 

Suddenly, the thought of being alone again clutched your chest like a vice. Just as Luis was about to step out of the room, you found your voice. “Wait, could you… could you stay a bit longer?” You hoped you didn’t sound too pathetic, especially after everything you went through, just as much as you hoped it wasn’t too weird of a request. You chanced a glance over your shoulder, peering at him through the fogged shower door. It was hard to tell, but he looked genuinely concerned.

“Sí mi amor, I can stay.”

—

Luis sat on the bathroom floor with his back leaning against the shower wall. Most of the time he spent in companionable silence, which was rather unusual for him. Perhaps he was exhausted like you were. Still, it made you ask, “estás bien, Luis?”

“Mi amor, I will always be fine with you by my side.” There was that charm again. It made you chuckle as you finally turned off the shower. 

Luis was immediately on his feet, towel in hand. You reached through the shower door, opening it just enough to take the towel from him. Murmuring your thanks, you briefly toweled most of the water off yourself before wrapping it around your torso, tucking the corner in just under your armpit. Stepping out, the tile floor was chilly on your feet. You suppressed a shiver as you came face to face with Luis.

He looked tired as you observed his face, though you couldn’t imagine you looked any better. Dark circles were forming under his eyes, his hair oily, and his skin grimy. You couldn’t bring yourself to care about any of that as you became trapped in his silvery stare. Hesitantly, Luis reached out a hand to tuck a damp strand of hair behind your ear. Ever so slightly, you leaned into his touch.

“Tienes sueño?” He asked, and you gave a nod, eyes drooping as his hand continued to linger on the side of your face. “Why don’t you go get comfortable and I’ll join you after I’ve had a turn to shower, hm?” The thought of sharing a bed with the Spaniard wasn’t lost on you.

“Leon actually agreed to stay in Ashley’s room?” You asked with a breathy laugh in disbelief, picturing the special agent begrudgingly agreeing. It was also your way of getting around asking the obvious and hopefully saving yourself from any embarrassment.

“He took some convincing, funnily more from me than la señorita, but he came around to the idea.” Luis chuckled as well as he passed the folded clean clothes into your arms. “Now go, I won’t be long.” His hands were suddenly on your lower back, gently pushing you out into the hall and in the direction of the bedroom. You glanced over your shoulder to see him wink before shutting the bathroom door.

Face feeling hot, you shuffled down to the bedroom. Once inside, and with no more distractions for the moment, your exhaustion returned. It took all your effort, but you managed to change into the clothes Luis had found for you. They were simple: an oversized t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts, likely for someone more of Leon’s size, but you were just glad to no longer be wearing your muddied, bloodied, sodden outfit from the mission.

You crawled under the sheets and blankets, leaving your towel on the floor, too tired to care. When you had gotten comfortable, hugging a pillow under your head, that was when a soft rap on the door snagged your attention. You rolled over just enough to look back to the doorway. “Just me, mi amor.”

Luis, back from his shower, was wearing the same gym shorts but he had forgoed a shirt. You rolled back over quickly enough, hiding your face against the pillow. There was the gentle sound of the door clicking shut and Luis’ footsteps as he made his way to the other side of the bed. He pulled up his end of the sheets, sliding into bed with a groan, the mattress dipping momentarily from his movement. “Mierda, this is nice.” He spoke with a sigh as he finally settled.

It felt surreal. After days of running ragged around the island, fighting people and monsters alike, it was strange to be vulnerable again. You looked across the space between you and Luis and up to the man’s face. His soaked hair framed his visage and he still held that look of exhaustion. His expression was soft, however, his eyes casting a warmth as he stared back.

“Almost too good to be true.” You whispered, fearing that this may all turn into a dream should you voice it any louder. 

Luis gave his lopsided smile with an airy chuckle. “It’s like you read my mind.” He reached out to brush a strand of wet hair back from your face a second time. His voice dropped a pitch, almost matching the volume of your whisper. “Try to get some sleep, mi amor.”

You nodded and snuggled down further into your pillow. Just as your eyes were slipping closed, you were abruptly pulled against Luis’ chest into a strong embrace. You shot your arms out and wrapped them around his back, clinging to him as he buried his face in your hair and against your neck. You squeezed your eyes shut tight, willing yourself to not start shaking as fatigue and anxiety clashed behind your heart. Anxiety for everything you went through, anxiety for never feeling safe anymore, anxiety for the thought of almost losing Luis again.

The Spaniard in your arms shuddered as he seemed to hold in a sob and you only hugged him tighter, closer. “We’re okay.” You began in a murmur. “We’re okay… I got you and you got me.” You weren’t sure if you were trying to console yourself or Luis more.

“Sí mi amor, I’m not going anywhere. No te dejaré.” He appeared to relax little by little after each affirmation. You still clung to him, inhaling the scent of his shampooed hair and trying to ground yourself. 

Eventually, you were able to doze off, wreathed by Luis’ light snores.

—

You bolted upright in bed, no longer ensnared in the man’s embrace. Sweat coated your forehead and hairline, practically dripping down the back of your neck. Breathing heavily and in a panic, you check over your hands and arms before bringing your palms up to your eyes. It was just a night terror you tried telling yourself, and likely the first of many. Your rapid movements must have awoken Luis for he stirred with a hand reaching out for you.

“Mi amor, qué ocurre?” His hand found purchase on your knee as he pulled himself up partly to sit with you. 

Your hands remained pressed against your eyes as if you could push the horrid vision from your mind. “Bad dream.” You uttered, voice shaky. Gentle fingers grasped your wrists, lowering your hands from your face. You were met with Luis’ concerned, even stare. You thought he would press for more details, but he only waited for when you were ready to share. “It was um, it was Las Plagas… that thing was inside me again.” A sniffle escaped you as the adrenaline was finally wearing off.

“Oh, mi amor, I’m so sorry.” Luis crooned, coaxing you into a hug. “The parasite is gone, prometo. I made sure of it.” The hug shifted to you sitting in his lap, legs out to one side and his arms looped around your waist, hands clasped on your hip. He began to gently rock side to side, doing his best to be reassuring. “And, just think, if we’ve done it once before, we can do it again.”

You paled at the thought. “But I don’t want to do it again.” 

“Lo siento, but you know what I mean, yes? You’re so capable, strong, and brave. Much braver than I.” That got a little snort out of you. “You can take on the world, mi amor.” He pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “And I will be by your side the whole way.”

[starrenati]

We're finally here! Yippie! Honestly I didn't expect this fanfiction to get over 5 chapters, more even to be around the middle on the tenth one... Bit later than usual, but I've managed.

Chapter X

"Mum?"

“Well, catching onto it was easier than we suspected, but the test results are also way off. It’s not an omega level Mutant, it’s omega level Lumithra.”

I like your funny words, magic man…  Passed through the fog that was enveloping Alice’s mind. She still wasn’t awake, stuck somewhere between reality and dreamland. She could catch on, onto some of the words spoken around her, and she definitely could feel the cold against her skin. It was a weird kind of cold, almost wet, but constant, not like after the rain. 

“Whatever she is, she can’t leave the facility, and we have a lot to take care of. Ensure to catch any other possible variant of hers, before they reach the same power point and decide to turn against everything we know for now. “

She could feel her eyelids move, flutter, softly but she still couldn’t open her eyes. It was all so weird, like she was trapped outside her body, unable to do anything more than just feel and hear, almost like in a coma. Pretty scary situation. The dull ache in the back of her skull definitely wasn’t helping her at all. 

“Doctor Mazur, would you mind continuing work on this specimen?”

 Mazur… Her mothers last name. She was the one, who didn’t take her father's last name, wanting to stay connected to the past of the country she was tied to. Alice had her fathers last name. Was it possible that all this time she was working for TVA? Was it possible that all this hate was because of knowing about it all? About mutants, variants, everything that could and would change, affecting timelines and universes? Or was the hate the reason she ended up here in the first place? Was it even her mother anymore?

“Mum…” 

Her lips mouthed this word, but no sound left them,it all floating away into that weird substance that seemed to surround her from every possible side. But she was slowly coming back to herself, slowly regaining some of the control over her body, able to move her fingers. At least something. Now, she was also certain there was some kind of liquid covering her body in the worst way possible. She could breathe in it, but it was also confusing and numbing. She moved around a bit, trying to shake herself off, but ending up only moving like in slow motion. Finally, Alice managed to open her eyes, only to be met with bright blue lights just above her, she squinted her eyes, letting them adjust to the bright light. She really was under something similar to water, seeing little air bubbles travel upwards to reach the surface, now she was getting panicked. She’ll drown. Ringed repeatedly in her head. She tried to move, only now noticing so many cables connected to her. Her waking up was probably alarming enough for the so-called doctor to come closer, pushing some buttons on the console right by the tank, sleepiness quickly overwhelming her whole body. She didn’t even get a chance to yell out a simple “no”. The next time she was able to register anything, she heard people talking over her again. 

“So what exactly is she?”

“Lumithra. So a weird mix between human and something that in simple words you could call a concept. How is it possible? Hard to tell. We don’t have an answer for that, yet. They’re usually born as strong mutants, which matches. For now we also haven’t found her copy in any other universe, so we can safely assume this is the only one. Worth a shot to do some work on it.”

It. It. She was reduced to it. To a specimen to work on. That was way worse than a shame honestly, it was the uttermost disrespect that anyone could be faced with. She wanted to scream at them, but guess what? Again in the weird fucking liquid! Also she felt a raging headache, only after a moment it occurred to her, that The Eyes were in pain. So whatever they were doing to her, they might’ve blocked her abilities and with that, hurt her symbiote. She remained without movement, waiting to be alone with her mother in the room again. 

“I’ll leave you to your work now, doctor Mazur. Maybe don’t keep her in that water too long, I doubt  anyone from the Higher Ups would want to lose her by an accident.” 

After that, there was only a hiss of the automatic door and then silence. That’s when Alice decided to start quite violently moving around, trying to find a way out of this tank, to save herself, and The Eyes. They were important and she could feel their pain. At that, doctor Mazur came closer to the tank, after a moment of reluctance, moving off the lid, causing Alice to suddenly sit up, gasping for breath, trying to pull at all of those weird things connected to her. 

“ Calm down, you’ll only hurt yourself.”

“For now, you’re hurting me! Get that shit off of me!” 

Alice’s rage was very evident, or maybe it was fear? It wasn’t really easy to tell, something in between, combination of both in the worst way imaginable. 

“Calm down.”

“Don’t you fucking dare tell me that again.”

It was her mother. Those eyes never lie, that was sure, after all she looked into them for so many years. The anger boiling in her veins, despite being still a bit numb and stiff she jumped onto the woman. Did she try to hurt her? Maybe just show how upset she was? She didn’t get a chance. Attack, without thinking and preparation always ends wrong. Her whole body was wet, so the taser had a whole lot to travel through, penetrating her body with ease, causing her to stiffen up with a grunt, feeling involuntary twitches in her muscles, still looking at the woman with pure hatred. She probably just wanted to believe that it was hatred, while in fact it was hurt. She had left her, abandoned her to side with people who now wanted to turn her into a science specimen. That was some ultimate betrayal. If it was Chris, she would’ve never done that, no, not to her precious boy, but to her monster daughter? Sure. Anytime. 

While Alice was seething with rage on the floor, some people entered the room, running over to her, clasping something on her neck. The pain struck her again, even worse, screams of agony. The Eyes were dying. She could feel them hurt and wither, her precious helpers, that always eased her anxiety by keeping an eye at everything. They started dragging her out of the room, the pain pulsating under her skull. It took a while for Alice to regain control over her body, able to walk, sometimes stumbling a bit, the pain making her hazy, making the world almost liquidy. Hurts. Hurts. It hurts them. They hurt them. They pull them apart. They're dying. Save them. Save them! She swayed slightly on her legs, feeling burning anger and a weird type of hunger course through her veins. The eyes... The being that attached itself to her was being pulled apart inside her soul, due to having that stupid collar. That thing that erased her abilities. She was almost on the edge of starting to wail, being trapped with that nagging filling her mind. That was until she realized they didn't take her necklace. Cold metal resting on her neck. Sure, after the water and electro-shocks it could not work, but it was worth a try. 

She took a deep breath, suddenly raising her hands to her necklace, pushing on it, hearing a familiar click, the seconds stretched to infinity. After that the coolness of the fabric coating her skin, the familiar weight of her mask, the metal spine back, the boots making those well known nosies with each step, heaviness of the claws in gloves, feeling of pure power. For the first time she wore it with an intention of hurt, real hurt, of a fight based on rage, not morals. Not worrying about her safety, she tore at the collar with her claws, tearing the device into two pieces, some more electricity passing through her body, but she couldn’t care less, feeling the eyes take over. Covering her skin, covering her own eyes, her back, the cool of them spreading like fire, anger only fueling that hunger, the lust for blood. 

Faster than she could think, her body moved, the metal tail slicing the side of the closest guardian, then quickly grabbing the other one by his thigh, wrapping around it in a painful way just to throw him against the wall. Everything got loud with the pounding alarm. They were onto her, but her mind was hazy, The Eyes in full control, using her body as a mecha to tear through anyone who would get in their way onto their target. More guards came, only to be torn into slices, warm blood soaking through the fabric onto her skin. Her claws grazed after bones only to break them as soon as possible as well, the boots allowing her to move faster, her breathing unnatural, it felt like she had a second rib cage, pushing on her lungs, causing her to take shallow, quick breaths, sounding like a feral animal. She had to get back. Back to her mother. Repay with the same pain. Tore her to pieces, mental wise, make her regret. No mercy. She wasn’t ever merciful. She didn’t deserve mercy. No mercy. NO. MERCY.  As terrified as Alice felt, she gave full control to the creature, believing every “All fine. You fine. We fine.” she heard again and again in her head. No matter who got in their way, they pushed through towards the lab, forcing the door open, only now, the eyes moving enough to leave the talking and most of the control to Alice. 

She stood there, blood dripping from her costume, face and hair, facing her terrified mother. She was looking right into the same eyes she used to admire so much, now with a cold expression. The anger slowly letting the grief to surface, regret and pain taking the reins. The forever siblings of damnation of soul. 

“How does it feel to look into your mothers eyes after so long?”

That woman had the audacity to ask that, knowing damn well she was just a human. Mere human of flesh and bones, she couldn’t withstand Alice even if she wanted to. 

“As amazing as always.”

Alice spoke, taking a few more steps ahead, the reality around them warping and changing. Until it transformed into pure darkness with specks of blue light somewhere far away from them. Only then, her mother tried to move away, quickly taking steps backwards until she stumbled and fell. Alice standing over her like a death omen, the only thing she was lacking was a scythe in her hands to believe she was ready to kill. 

"We were right about leaving you there! You're a monster. An abomination! No... No... No. Don't come closer!"

Yelled out in fear caused Alice to chuckle but stop in place, watching the woman with pity painted over her face. SHaking her head a bit, before speaking. 

“Am I? Is it my fault though? Weren’t you the one deciding to cheat, to see how it is to mate with something inhuman, knowing the risk?”

She already looked through the memories of her mother, quickly following the string. The lie, that turned to be a life. A child. Her mother knew she wasn’t getting down with a human then, but with a mutant of some kind. With a monster as she used to call them. But in the memories, that person was blurred, almost like her mother was doing everything to erase them entirely, pretending they never existed at all. 

“How dare you speak like that to your mother?”

“That you are, but first, let me ask as well. How dare you sacrifice your kid to people who would only pull it apart for so called science and then call yourself its mother?”

The silence was a loud answer. 

“Who he was? Why were you erasing him? Who. Was. My. Father?”

Alice pushed, her eyes peering into the other woman's eyes with an almost fiery gaze, hearing a tumble of different thoughts, just to keep her away from the truth, from everything that Alice could’ve found out on her own. 

"The only thing I've never doubted in my life is that you're *his* daughter. You walk, talk, even move like him. A walking and living proof of my mistake of giving myself to that monster."

The other woman spoke, spitting out the words like they were a molten iron, with an intention to sting and hurt. To push a pin right where it hurts. 

“I do? Very well then, I should take that as a compliment I believe.”

Alice spoke, a wide smile resting on her lips, showing her teeth under the mask. She found the memory, the face, the name, enough to know who this was about. To find out her father and his ideals. She couldn’t say that the apple fell far from the tree in that case. Even they were stained with blood. She really went as far as possible to get what she wanted and needed then. She took another step closer, grabbing the older woman by her collar and lifting her up in the air, the red eyes piercing her soul. 

“You don’t deserve a single thing you own or anything you managed to accomplish. I wish for nothing more, but for you to perish like a dog and nothing more. Mother.”

Her words like venom, like a spear sharp on both ends, adding more damage to what was already done. One of her hands moving lower to the ribs, resting here for a while, feeling every shallow breath and every heartbeat. Ready to strike, but she hesitated at the last moment, not drawing blood just yet, pondering over something. What was worse than drowning in your own blood? Drowning in mental pain. 

Alice smirked a bit, dropping her down, before taking a step back, taking them back to the laboratory, covered in red light and alarms, the stench of blood overfilling the air from every side. They were coming for her again, but she still had enough time for her revenge. She sank into the woman's mind, her presence like ice spikes hurting already. She maneuvered through the memories, pulling at the dearest ones, before she turned them into nightmares, realistic enough to believe in them. To trust it really happened, to cause the older woman to scream in pain and confusion, to yell out for help, to beg for Alice to stop, to just scream, tearing her throat, filling the halls with ominous echoes of pain. Was it worth it? Yes. Was it within Alice’s moral code? No, it was wrong even for her, but she just wanted to show her mother, in how much pain she was everyday, to show her what exactly turned her into a monster. 

Right when Alice was supposed to pull away, to try and run, she felt a rod on her neck and then heard a short zap right by her ear. The immense pain tearing through her body, whatever that was, was definitely designed to make the transportation as unpleasant as possible. Shortly after that she fell onto a sand ground with great impact. She grunted in pain, upon hitting the ground and then coughed as the dust got onto her mouth and nose. She pushed on the neck piece again, causing her suit to quickly fold back up into the necklace. The stench of blood was still there, definite and heavy. No wonder, her whole skin was covered in it and her hair as well, it won;t go away for a while probably. 

“I haven’t seen you here the last time. Only two imbeciles claiming they are trying to save the world.”

She knew that voice. She fucking knew that voice from that stupid meadow. That velvety, female voice, always speaking with a hint of mockery, that one could mistaken for care. Alice quickly raised her head, pushing her upper half up on her arms. She was met with a pair of blue eyes piercing her whole being with that gaze, slightly tilted head, curiosity and disgust emanating from this person from every possible way. Cassandra Nova. No. Fucking. Way. 

“I think I’ve hit my head too hard this time…” 

I swear if someone says Magneto at the father revelation, I'm throwing hands.

[not-a-space-alien]

K&J x MMSS 4: Valen & Jim Part 4

Part four of the fourth crossover with @whumpsday!

K&J masterlist

MMSS masterlist

K&J x MMSS crossover masterlist

To be added to the taglist, contact @whumpsday

Warnings for this chapter: Burns, “it” as a dehumanizing pronoun, mentions of/fear of sexual assault, brief talk about eating disorders 

In this chapter: The joy of Jim's homecoming is soured by an incident with vampire hunters that suddenly reverses the roles between Jim and Valen.

***

The movie-watching is oddly serene after years of constant fear and torment. Jim cozies up with Valen while they watch, finishing his apple. He's quiet at first, just like with Kane, but slowly starts to open up as it goes on and he remains safe.

Valen reciprocates the cozying up, wrapping the both of them in a blanket on the couch. Valen has never been happier to have his own little haven, with its soft lights and quiet lack of anyone to bother him. He's delighted to hear Jim start talking more and more, acting like a person and not a neurotic prey animal.

When the time to leave gets nearer, Valen asks if Jim wants to stop at the store again for more food, knowing humans need to eat so frequently.

"Nah, I think I'm good," Jim declines with a nervous laugh. He is pretty famished, having only had one meal in three days, but he can wait. Last time was harrowing enough. Next time he eats, it’ll be in his own kitchen at home. "Maybe I could call my sister to meet us, especially since it's during the day and it'll be safe for her? Then I won't have to trek."

"Of course, that's a splendid idea. Tell her to meet us somewhere, and you'll have a nice smooth journey back. I'd love to meet her, as well."

Jim calls, letting Liz know they're leaving and she can meet them near the signs loudly proclaiming the dangers of crossing the border.

“Tell him I said thank you for saving my brother,” Liz says on the other end. There’s no need– Valen’s hearing is good enough to hear it from where he sits.

"I'm just happy I was able to help do a good deed,” Valen responds. “Hopefully the karma will come back around to me." Valen has always struggled with feeling like a monster, so that feeling being alleviated is enough of a reward on its own, to know he wasn’t universally hated among innocent humans.

They won’t be out for so long, but Valen gives Jim a water bottle anyway, just in case, before wrapping himself up thoroughly for going outside.

The streets and sidewalks are once again empty, cleared in the face of the impending sunrise. Valen hands Jim the car keys in the rising light. "Here, you should drive. In fact, if you wanted to keep this wretched contraption, that would be fine with me. I hardly ever use it, and it's more trouble than it's worth."

Jim grins. "Seriously? Oh man. You are the best. Free car, that rules. Liz probably started using mine when she learned to drive, so that's perfect, now we'll both have one." His smile wavers at the thought that he missed Liz learning how to drive. "Well, buckle up, beaks."

He drives out to the border with little issue, the streets deserted. What had caused him so much grief, years of wanting, nearly dying in his desperate attempt to make it home… it’s like nothing, now. Jim almost feels like he’ll wake up any second, the whole thing a too-pleasant dream.

Liz is there–Liz, in the flesh, so much more grown-up than when he last saw her–with three other people. They all wear vampire hunter’s gear: including Liz, to Jim's surprise. The blue-haired hunter by her side looks the calmest of them all, while the two men look a bit on-edge.

Liz runs forward, and Jim gets out of the car to embrace her.

"Oh my god, Jim!" she cries.

Valen watches Jim hug his sister with a smile on his face. None of the humans can see it, of course, because he's wrapped up head to toe, they can barely see his eyes. He squints against the light to see who all is here. There are four humans, which is more than he expected. It makes him a little nervous, especially since they all appear to be vampire hunters. But Jim's sister seems kind, so he doesn't worry overmuch.

He opens the passenger's side door and gets out of the car, leaning on it to watch Jim and Liz crying with each other. He glances nervously at the sign demarcating human territory from vampire territory, knowing full well if he crosses it, he's put a target on his back.

"Hey, why's it getting out of the car?!" one of the hunters snaps, hand itching toward his weapons.

Jim interrupts his tearful reunion, pulling away from Liz. "Don't fucking call him that! And obviously he has to get out of the car, what's he gonna do, get home from the passenger seat?"

He realizes too late: he's being defiant, again. Kane would beat him to a pulp for this. This is why he’s supposed to be silent, so he doesn’t run his stupid mouth. He immediately shrinks back, eyes cast down, trembling. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

"Cool it, man."  The blue-haired hunter elbows their companion.

Valen gets nervous. "I intend to come no closer, sir. We can talk like civilized individuals, I assure you." He holds his hands up deferentially. 

The words go right over the head of the hunter, who can only focus on Valen’s hands moving and gets spooked. He is clearly a novice hunter, his hands shaky and unpracticed as he draws his pistol and shoots at Valen.

The shot just barely misses Valen, but it does graze his head. It rips his mask from his face, taking most of his hood with it as well, exposing him to a faceful of direct sunlight.

He erupts into an earth-shattering screech at the indescribable pain, sharp and animalistic. The windows of the car wobble with the sound, and the one closest to him shatters and spills glass shards everywhere. He would have never gone outside during the day if he'd known he was risking this. He's instantly blinded by the white-hot light, like two searing branding irons stabbed directly through his eye sockets straight into his brain, and he curls his arms above his head and drops down, fumbling for the shadow of the car to save himself.

"Fuck!" Jim dives for Valen, shielding him with his body. He grabs Valen's mask off the ground and clumsily shoves it back on his face, then strips his own shirt and throws that on top for good measure, ensuring that Valen is fully covered.

"What's wrong with you?!" Liz screams. "He saved Jim! You were just supposed to come ‘cause it's the border!"

"I'm sorry! Shit!"

"Get him out of here," the blue-haired hunter says.

"Got it," the other man agrees. Valen can make out a car driving off.

"Valen? I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Jim sounds like he's crying. "I'm sorry, I never meant for you to get hurt."

"Jim," Valen weeps, groping forward. He opens his eyes, but the topmost layer of skin on them has been burned, and they're crusty and sightless. "Jim, am–is he–what's going on?"

Jim holds him. "He's gone. He knocked your mask off, he's an idiot. You're safe now. No one here's gonna hurt you. I'm sorry. You're–you're gonna heal, right?"

"I–Yes, I should–I've never felt..." It still fucking hurts, so so bad, even though the sun is gone. He will heal, right? He's never gotten a sunburn before, and he knows they theoretically heal, but damn is the lingering pain overwhelming, far more than any other injury he's sustained. "Jim, please don't leave me here, I can't see, please don't leave me alone out here."

"I'd never. Don't worry, I've got you. I've got you. You wanna come back to my place to heal up? Let's get you back in the car, huh? We'll get some burn cream on you, and you can rest up back home." Jim helps him back into the passenger seat. "Liz, we've got burn cream, right?"

"Yeah, I, I think so. Yeah." Liz is shaken. "You can follow us? That wasn't supposed to happen. I told them Valen was on our side."

"I'll follow you," Jim agrees. He pats Valen on the shoulder. "We're gonna take care of you. Like you took care of me."

"Thank you," Valen sobs. He's utterly shaken by how thoroughly and quickly the sun was able to completely destroy his confidence. He feels like a kid again, lost and scared and helpless. He'd do anything to avoid feeling the sun again. "I wasn't trying to attack, I swear." He's still shaking a little as he settles into the passenger's seat, and he folds himself down, below the window.

Jim will help me. I helped him, he'll help me back. His sister is a hunter, but she's nice, the other hunter is nice, they know I'm not trying to attack. And I can use persuasion on them if I need to. Oh god, he definitely couldn't use persuasion over a group of three humans at once, though, and his superior speed and strength would be useless if he couldn't see to know how to direct them. This must have been how Jim felt, at the mercy of someone he just had to trust would help him, unsure of if he should make a run for it and take his chances. The idea of going deeper into human territory, further into the domain of the vampire hunters, like this was terrifying.

"We know, buddy." Jim says, starting the car up again and following Liz's- well, his car. "Fuck, this is a mess. You're gonna be okay. Kane and that asshole we ran into last night got into it once a few years back, and Kane was all better by the next night. Um, I dunno if you might take a little longer, 'cause you looked pretty bad there. But I'm sure it'll still be fast."

Valen starts to calm down a little at Jim's reassuring words, just like Jim did at Valen's. He cautiously unscrunches himself, sitting upright in the seat. "Yes. Yes, thank you. Um, are–we're going into–into human territory, are you quite sure your neighbors won't–won't take notice and, and call more hunters?" He is far more afraid of vampire hunters than he'd thought he'd be–they'd always been a distant bogeyman for him, and one of them had just ruined his week with a single pull of a trigger.

"No one can tell you're a vampire when you're all covered up like that. And if anyone tries to fuck with you, they'll have to go through me. And Liz, and probably her friend. Plus, it... it seems like Liz is a hunter." Jim is not a fan of this information, but he's glad it at least makes things a little safer for Valen. "So she'd be the one who's called anyway. I won't let anyone get at you. Promise."

Valen sobs when Jim says Liz is a hunter, not finding it as comforting as Jim does. "Yes. Thank you. Thank you, Jim. Are we going to your house?"

"Yep, that's where we're going. Home. Holy shit, I'm going home." It still doesn't feel real. "It's gonna be okay. And, look, you can feed on me when you get hungry, 'cause I know it'll take a bit for your face to heal right. I'm used to it. Happy to do it when it's for you. I'm sorry it sucks right now. But I won't let anything else happen to you, swear to god. I've got your back."

Oh no. Jim expects Valen to feed on him. Valen has never fed from a human before, he doesn't want to, he's terrified of opening that door. Feeding straight from a human is supposed to be one of the highest luxuries a vampire can have. What if he doesn't want to stop feeding that way? What if he gets addicted and can't go back to blood packs? He doesn't trust himself. He can't. He goes spiraling back into the times where he went days without feeding, crushed under the weight of his depression and guilt and self-loathing. He can't go back to that.

Valen swallows. Maybe they can just avoid that for now. Maybe Valen will get better before he needs to feed, and he can just go back home and sidestep the whole thing.

"Thank you, Jim." He feels safe around Jim in a way he hadn't before with other men. Is it because he's a human, and Valen could overpower him? Then why does he still have this warm feeling when he's helpless and dependent on him? "And I'm glad you get to go home. I'm very happy for you. It's still a wonderful day overall.”

"Thank you. You gave me my life back. I'm sorry it turned out shit for you. No good deed goes unpunished, I guess." Seeing Valen so hurt and scared, because he was trying to help him, no less, breaks Jim's heart.

They arrive at Liz's place after a little while, Jim chattering soothingly to Valen the entire time.

"Alright, we're here. I'll lead you inside." He holds Valen's hand, leading him into the house, where Liz and her hunting partner wait.

Liz tosses Jim a container of burn cream while Laken, quickly introducing themself, goes around closing all the blinds. Liz smiles, despite the situation. "We did have some. And hey... welcome home."

"Thanks. Here, come, sit." Jim leads Valen over to sit on the couch. "You can take that stuff off. You're in the clear."

Valen sits on the couch and gropes at his head to remove the coverings Jim had tossed over him. He also removes his outermost cloak and his gloves. Despite the relatively short contact time, Valen's whole face is red and blistering, and the thin, delicate skin on top of his ears has peeled away to reveal bleeding rawness. His eyes have a gray, opaque layer over them.

"I'm glad to meet the two of you and be in your home, despite the rough start," Valen says. "Thank you for having me. I'm glad to see Jim finally reach safety after his ordeal."

"Thank you for bringing him home. Thank you,” Liz says emphatically. "Sorry the new guy’s a fucking dumbass. I'm gonna kick his ass."

"You're very welcome. I couldn't just leave him there, knowing what fate was in store for him. And I suppose your colleague had good reason to be wary, knowing what my kind is capable of. Although, I obviously do wish he'd had more restraint." 

"Oh please, he didn't have shit." Liz says. "It's daytime, you were bringing Jim home, he was being an asshole."

"I'm gonna put burn cream on you, okay?" Jim says gently. "It okay if I touch? Kinda gonna have to."

Valen reaches out and finds Jim's hands. "Yes, you are welcome to touch me, Jim, I don't mind it at all. Thank you."

"Alright, just hold still." Jim starts slathering burn cream over Valen's face and dabbing it on his ears. He tries his best to be gentle, but touching the burns is bound to hurt at least a little, even if the cream is soothing.

Valen clenches his teeth and lets out an occasional hiss of pain, but when Jim is rubbing the cream on the less painful parts of his body, he leans into the touch, closing his eyes and savoring the feeling. He hadn't realized how touch-starved he'd become, despite it being only a few months since his separation from Priscus, although Priscus had also been his main source of touch before that. He was very much enjoying the touches that didn't have the subtle warning written under them, the hint that later the touching would lead to more things whether he wanted them or not, a reminder that things were expected of him. It felt nice.

When it seems like Jim is done, he pulls away. "Thank you very much. It's already starting to feel a bit better."

"There you go. You're doing awesome." Jim gives him a little side hug and yawns, still on a nocturnal schedule. "I'm gonna grab something to eat from the kitchen and then probably hit the sack. Are you getting tired, too? If you can get to sleep, you'll probably heal a lot while you're out."

Valen jumps at the opportunity. "Yes, please, that sounds wonderful." He secretly hopes that Jim will sleep in the same bed as him. He feels like it would be the first time he'd sleep in a bed with a man and not have to be on guard to fend off unwanted advances. Jim is so very sweet and considerate, and seems like he would take no for an answer if it came down to it, which makes Valen not want to say no. Maybe there will (in)conveniently only be one space where they can sleep, and Jim will apologetically offer to sleep elsewhere to let Valen have it, and Valen will be able to coyly offer to share it. That will give him what he wants: Being able to sleep in the same bed as Jim without looking too eager and inviting, to have plausible deniability about wanting it later if he changes his mind and wants away from Jim, and to make Jim feel just a little bit like he is imposing and therefore needs to be extra polite and considerate to make up for it.

He takes a minute to step back from the insane mental gymnastics he'd just done. Living with Priscus had really done a number on him. Maybe he should just sleep on the couch.

"Er, I've been using Mom and Dad's room for storage,” Liz says. “Your room's all set, though. I kinda didn't touch it. Kept hoping you'd come home. And I was right, you did, so there!" Liz proclaims defensively, like someone's going to argue with her about it. "Even cleaned it yesterday 'cause I knew you were coming home. But yeah, the other bed is covered in boxes. I can go clear it, but it'll take a bit."

"You can use my bed, Valen." Jim says. "Lemme lead you up there. Your eyes are still all funky." He takes Valen's hand.

Valen blushes. "Thank you."

He lets himself be led upstairs, into the bedroom, he presumes. "How large is your bed? Where will you sleep?"

"It's a full. I guess I'll help Liz clear off the other bed, or take the couch if that turns out to be too much of a hassle? Unless… you wanna double up." Jim can’t deny Valen’s subtle hint, asking about the bed’s size, and being with Valen makes him feel safe. Like if Kane showed up to take him away, he would be protected.

"Only if you want to," Valen says shyly. "I wouldn't mind. I don't snore." He sits down on the edge of the bed and starts fumbling to take his shoes off.

"Cool,” Jim says, with a huge smile Valen can’t see. He helps Valen take his shoes off. "Here, you can borrow some pajamas,” he adds, pressing the first ones he sees in the closet into Valen’s hands. “I'll come back up and join you after I've eaten something."

He quickly changes into some himself, since he's currently shirtless and the clothes Valen loaned him are too small anyway. "I'll be back up soon. Yell if you need anything."

"Thank you. Enjoy your meal." Valen takes the time to undress himself, stripping off his many, many layers, suddenly realizing how sweaty he is under it all. He figures a bathroom might be nearby, trailing his hand along the hallway wall and getting lucky when it’s the first doorway he blindly stumbles across. He takes the time to find the faucet and splash some water on himself, drying his skin on whatever towel is nearby. He doesn't dare to clean up more than that for fear of accidentally getting himself into an embarrassing situation he can't get himself out of without calling for help.

He strips off his binder next, slipping into the pajamas. He doesn't know what pattern is on them, but they feel soft and warm. He sighs contentedly, slipping into the bed and fumbling to pull the blanket up over himself. When he finally settles in, he feels very cozy and safe despite the burns, and closes his eyes, already starting to fall asleep.

Jim comes back up about twenty minutes later, trying not to disturb Valen as he slides into bed next to him. "Thank you," he murmurs, finally feeling safe for the first time in five long years.

Valen sleepily rolls over. "You're welcome. I'm glad I could make a difference for someone in this wretched world. Sleep well. Tomorrow you will wake up for the first time safe in your own home among people who care about you."

The words touch Jim to his core. That's one of the kindest things anyone's ever said to him. "I care about you, too," he says softly, snuggling up to Valen in the small bed.

Valen curls up against Jim. It's very comfortable, and he wants this kind of touch so badly, but something is bothering him, and he won't be at ease until he broaches the subject. Despite his earlier thoughts, he's starting to get concerned about waking up to Jim trying to have sex with him. Unlike when Priscus did it, Valen is strong enough to just throw Jim off, but the thought is the only thing ruining the otherwise perfect atmosphere. If he could just clear that, he'd have the nicest night he's had in decades, he's sure.

"Um," he says, voice cracking with nervousness despite his attempts to control it. "To, to be clear, I-I'm very comfortable right now, b-but I'm, I'm not interested in having sex tonight."

The nervousness in Valen's voice gives Jim pause. He recalls the way Valen cried when his husband called, the way he called him sir so miserably. "Hey. You're safe, okay? I'd never do anything like that. You're alright, Valen."

Valen perks up, immediately more at ease. "Thank you, Jim. I know it will be a wonderful night. Sleep soundly. You've no need to worry anymore, either. You're safe, too."

Jim smiles, feeling warm. "Wonderful day, you mean, but I know you're on mushroom time and you can't see shit. You sleep good, too."

Oh this is wonderful. Jim is a human, and Jim feels safe around him, and that must mean he’s not a bad person. Valen feels safe, at ease, and validated in a way he never has before. Jim feels safe and protected in a way he never has before.

They both fall asleep and have the best rest in years, for either of them.

***

@barebarb

@cc1010foxy

@emcscared-whumps

@gt-daboss

@hurtpluscomfort

@jakersdaboss

@lolrpop

@melancholy-in-the-morning

@pigeonwhumps

@secretwhumplair

@some-thrilling-heroics

@t0rture-me

@thecyrulik

@thejinglingcourtjester

@vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff

@whuarri

@whump-cravings

@whump-my-heart-away

@whumpycries

@wolfeyedwitch

@whump-addict

@why-not-ask-me-a-better-question

[stonesparrow]

Early Riser Ch. 2

(AU where Senku wakes up 10 years post-petrification)

Chapter 1

The next day Senku has a breakfast of canned peaches and then sets off towards home. Because even though he doesn’t have any nitric acid at school or at his apartment, what he does have in his home lab is sulfuric acid, which can be converted easily to nitric acid if combined with potassium nitrate, which he also has at home. 

The city is a mess. There’s cars piled up everywhere and plants starting to grow out of control. Senku tries not to look at the broken statues scattered around the streets as he follows the train lines back to his apartment. 

When he finally makes it home, the first thing he does is look through his closet for a change of clothes—his uniform is starting to pull apart at the seams, and constant exposure to weather probably wasn’t good for it. Everything he has smells pretty weird from sitting around for ten years, but he’s a bit short on water for laundry, so it’ll have to do.

Senku shrugs on a spare lab coat and takes stock of his chemical supply. He doesn’t have a ton of sulfuric acid, maybe only enough to produce a liter of nital formula. This…could be a problem. It means he’ll have to find his way to another, more well stocked science lab if he wants to make any headway into reviving a team of people for the next steps. On the other hand, if he can find a small-scale machine for the Ostwald process, there won’t be any problem with producing nitric acid.  

Senku focuses on making the nitric acid, then prepares for the journey back to the school. Limited supply or not, he’s going to need some help navigating this broken city—it was hard enough just getting home, and he had to make frequent stops with his poor stamina.

It’s late in the afternoon when he gets back, and Senku promptly mixes up a 30% nitric acid and 70% ethanol solution that he dumps over Taiju and Yuzuriha’s statues.

He observes closely with amazement as the stone melts away from their bodies back into flesh. 

“Gah! What the—Senku, Yuzuriha!” Taiju gasps as he takes in their surroundings. “What happened?!”

“Everything went dark all of a sudden,” Yuzuriha says, sounding as if she’s just woken up from a dream. “But…we’re still at school?”

“We’ve been trapped in stone for almost ten years,” Senku says. “It probably would have been way longer if a squirrel hadn’t knocked the nital I was holding out of my hand. Anyway, you guys ready to bring the whole world back?”

His friends are shocked at the state of the city, but are soon ready to move on with his plans, after scavenging some fresh uniforms from the school’s supply closet. Taiju does ask why Senku didn’t choose to revive a police officer or something, but Senku was ready for that. 

“You think a cop would listen to a teenager?” He scoffs. “Nah, they’d go straight to trying to control the situation themselves, and we wouldn’t get anywhere. Plus, I’m not about to trust my safety with unfamiliar adults.”

After taking stock of their food and water supplies, the three of them plan their journey towards the closest university—any chemistry lab worth their salt should have sulfuric acid in stock if not nitric acid, after all. But while Senku’s apartment is only about half an hour away on foot, the university is considerably farther. And while they could technically still make it within a day, Senku’s also hoping to get a lot more chemicals than the three of them could reasonably carry on their own. Which means what they need is a car.

“Would any of these even still work after ten years?” Yuzuriha asks as Senku’s examining the vehicles in the staff parking lot. 

“Not the gas ones—gasoline degrades over time,” he says. “But the electric ones, now those we can work with.”

“Isn’t this a crime?” Taiju points out when Senku’s made his choice and they’ve found the right keys (hanging off of one of the history teachers’ belts). 

“Not if we don’t tell anyone,” Senku says as they all click in their seatbelts.

“Hey wait a second,” Yuzuriha frowns as Senku starts the engine. “You’ve never driven a car before.”

Senku shrugs. “Eh, I mean I know how it all works. How hard could it be?”

—————

Okay so it turns out that driving is a lot harder than it looks. There’s a lot of starting and stopping and near-crashes and yelling (and profanity) and at one point Taiju nearly cries, plus they have to take side roads and detours to avoid all the massive pileups on the road, but they make it to the university in one piece! And find, to Senku’s delight, several jugs of ethanol and sulfuric acid. Yes, breaking down the door to the supply closet was a bit of a hassle, and he really wishes the hinges had been on the outside instead, but c’est la vie.

Now all they need is some potassium nitrate, which they raid the university’s community garden shed for—there’s several bags of it among the fertilizer. Eventually, they’ve got quite a bit of nitric acid at their disposal, and as they settle down to a canned, still pretty flavorless meal, they discuss their next steps.

“The biggest issue is going to be food and water,” Senku says. “Can’t revive too many people at once, or our resources will be strained, especially with the plumbing gone and no working supply lines.”

“Then our priority should be ensuring that we have a sustainable source of both,” Yuzuriha nods.

“We’ll still need more people if we want to do that,” Taiju points out. “Like, you mean things like farming and stuff, right? The three of us can’t do much of that alone.”

“You got that right. So we’ll be heading north to revive the agricultural industry first—there’s gonna be a lot of equipment that needs fixing and farms that need replanting, and the people there will know how to do that best.”

His friends nod, though Yuzuriha looks a little hesitant.

“Can we check on our families first though? I’ve been wondering if my parents are okay…”

“Oh yeah, my grandparents would be at home too,” Taiju murmurs.

“Couldn’t hurt,” Senku says. “Besides, Oki-san has that old electrical generator that could be useful, and you’ll be wanting to pick up your crafting supplies from home too, Yuzuriha.”

None of them mention Byakuya, and Senku’s determined not to worry about him unless he gets a reason to. 

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Heretic's Confession, Chapter Three

CW: Drunkenness, alchohol in general, some implied dubcon starting at *** and ending at the next ***, magical mind manipulation, restraints, religious talk

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

-

One year prior to present-day

He still thinks of himself as Brother Grigori, in his mind, even though he walked away from the temple in the middle of the night months ago. He abandoned his goddess and her open arms in a fit of rage and grief, in the aftermath of a week’s worth of nightmares. 

In his mind, he’s still Brother Grigori. To the world outside, though, he’s Greg. Or, well, mostly he’s the drunk over there.

He keeps his white robes carefully wrapped in canvas and twine, hidden in a bag on the bench beside him. He’s anonymous like this, just wearing a simple linen shirt and pants, rope sandals to take the edge off the boiling summer heat. His skin’s tanned to a constant warm, light brown now and his hair’s a mop he doesn’t bother to brush more than once every few days, grown out and streaked from sunshine. 

No one would know him for a priest. Dromada’s Chosen seclude themselves in the temples, spend little time in the light. Priests are pale men in white robes who smile without pain or bitterness, and they certainly don’t hate themselves and sit up at night wishing they were dead. They absolutely don’t drink themselves into a stupor every single night so they won’t wake up screaming. 

He looks nothing like the hero they made of him through well-intentioned lies and constantly expanding gossip, and that’s exactly how he likes it. 

There are already four separate popular songs about his supposed courage and bravery. Standing up against the wicked bandits who want to tear the kingdom apart in the name of his goddess, his stalwart and true faith terrifying the evil men and women back into the dark of the great, thick woods. 

None of these songs tell a story he recognizes as anywhere close to what happened.

He’s come to this tavern every day this week because it’s the one place where he never has to overhear any of the tripe they’ve made about his life. The barman, who also owns the inn upstairs, hates him - or rather, hates the idea of him from the songs, and has banned all the music that mentions his name, or even the thought of him.

Grigori is deeply grateful for him for it. 

All the pretty nonsense played on lutes or sung in warbling voices about Dromada’s son, who stood up to the evil spat out by the Kaila trees… It’s all just lies, pointless lies to comfort the people. They want to think one man can make a difference. What could he even tell them? He couldn’t even save his own brothers in the temple. The men who had raised him from his infancy, and taught him to be holy and pure. When they could have used him, he wasn’t there.

If I had been there, I’d just have died with them.

The thought brings no comfort. It’s what should have happened, but didn’t. 

He takes another drink, letting the liquor burn hot down his throat. He had never had anything stronger than watered-down wine in the temple before it all happened, and now he isn’t sure when he’s last been sober at all once the sun goes down.

Sobriety, for him, comes in bursts of hangovers - headaches and nausea and a stomach desperate for bread and butter nonetheless. Sobriety is the return of his self-hatred after he had spent the night before successfully drinking it away. Or sometimes not as successfully, but on those nights he just drank more and sooner or later he fell asleep with his head on the bar.

As long as he keeps paying, the barman doesn’t mind mopping up when ‘Greg’ spills a tankard or two when he forgets to keep holding onto it. Even if he suspects the man goes through his things when he’s passed out, he hasn’t said anything and he hasn’t kicked him out for being a priest who broke the vow of sobriety.

Grigory lets his head fall back against the wall, eyes closed. So many vows. He’s broken, what, two of them? To always wear his robes and make himself known as a Chosen of the goddess, and to pursue always sober living, staying away from wine that isn’t watered and all alcohol otherwise. 

That leaves… poverty, chastity, obedience, and serenity. 

He’s probably broken serenity, too, actually. Is being drunk all the time serene? Or the opposite? His hair brushes against his cheeks, and he wonders if blood vessels have begun to break, if he’ll get ruddy like the drunks he saw sometimes as a child, leaving offerings to Dromada and begging her forgiveness for the sins they confessed to the priests.

Dromada forgives, you have only to ask. So you have requested, so Her forgiveness is given. Walk in new peace and be free of your chains. 

He hasn’t confessed any sins since the day the temple priests died and he didn’t. Not that it matters, not anymore.

Dromada isn’t listening. He isn’t sure if She ever did.

A cheery voice speaks entirely too closely to him, making him jump as his heart skips a beat. The voice is bright, slightly raspy and deeply masculine. “Well, don’t you need a haircut, a bowl of stew, and some clean shoes? Not necessarily in that order, of course.”

He blinks his eyes open, wincing a little as the light stings - even as dim as it is in here, the light stings. He needs to drink more. “What?”

A handsome man smiles down at him, a knit hat pulled low on his head, until it covers even the tips of his ears. White-blond hair sticks out the bottom over his forehead like hay, straight as a bone and every which way, but there’s a hint of closely-shorn hair just above his ears that suggests the sides are shaved. Unusually, his eyes are a thick and glossy black, with no sign of the shift between iris and pupil. It’s all one color, and seems to suck light in rather than reflect it. The stranger’s tall, having to lean over just to talk to Grigory where he sits, but he’s also lean, like a sapling ready to bend in the wind rather than break. “I said, you need a haircut.” The stranger reaches out and twines a bit of Grigori’s curly brown hair around his finger, letting it brush against his cheek.

He watches Grigori shiver with a slight, half-cocked smile, black eyes sparkling with a kind of good humor and interest that feels as dangerous as a threat. 

“You also need a bowl of stew and some clean shoes. Sadly, only one of those can I be of assistance with. Bowl of stew, bit of bread? My treat, of course.”

“I… are you asking me?” The stranger nods, and Grigori hesitates… then sighs, and looks down, eyeing his sandals. Are they that dirty? They look fine to him. “No, but thank you. I am not hungry.”

“Don’t eat much these days, do you?”

Grigori’s frown deepens. “I eat when I am hungry.”

“No, you drink when you’re hungry. But you’re going to eat now.” The stranger laughs, bright and kind of beautiful, and Grigori blinks, his frown fading. He watches the man cross the room, calling out his order to the tavern’s owner, who looks over at Grigori with eyebrows raised. Grigori just shrugs, and goes back to his drink.

Or he tries to.

He has to stop when the stranger swoops in with two bowls of stew and a plate of bread balanced on the inside of one elbow, like a man who has waited tables in inns all his life. He then swipes the tankard from Grigori and chugs it all down, drops running from the corners of his mouth down over the long line of his throat.

Grigori’s mouth feels, suddenly, rather dry - for reasons Dromada would frown on, but Dromada already allowed his brothers to be sacrificed. He’s not sure he believes in her forgiveness and mercy anymore. No goddess who cannot protect her most devoted can be much of a goddess at all, can she?

“I see you undressing me with your eyes,” The stranger teases, and Grigori blushes even more deeply, dropping his eyes hurriedly back down to the steaming bowl of stew on the table before him, picking up his spoon with fumbling fingers and getting a bit of meat - cheap cut of beef cooked slow over a fire until it tasted as good as the richest man’s steak - and faking a consummate interest in the shimmering fat that had settled atop the broth. “None of that until we’re done getting some food in you. And no more beer until you’re full, either. Try dunking the bread in, it’s great.”

Grigori nods without looking up, afraid to see the sparkle in those eyes again. He’s never had anyone look at him like that before. Being raised by the priests, well… when you’re wearing Dromada’s robes, the people know you’re pure.

He feels like the stranger isn’t very pure at all.

“What’s-... thank you, for the stew,” He says around mouthfuls, discovering once he starts eating that he can’t seem to get himself to stop. His stomach growls after the first bite and somehow he finishes the bowl and starts sopping it up with bread in record time. “What’s your name?”

“Ooooh, he’s curious now that he can think,” The stranger says, still bright and cheerful. Grigori watches the line of his body as he sits back, fingers interlocked behind his head and elbows bent, kicking up his feet to rest his heels on an empty chair. “The formal name is Bohlinde hir Maksma en Ygridsen, which I hate. Call me Bohli.”

“You have a nobleman’s name?” Grigori’s curiosity gets the best of him and he looks up, eyebrows raising. “Or… partly. Maks is a noble house-”

“My mother was quite the little lady indeed,” Bohli says, and his smile twists sharp and cynical. Somehow it suits his equally sharp features, and Grigori feels an unsettling, unfamiliar shiver roll through him at the sight. Something about the room feels a little overheated, but when he glances over, there’s no fire in the fireplace, no reason for it. “My father… well. Ygridsen-”

“I know what it means.”

“You do?” Bohli’s smile stretches somehow even wider. 

“Yes. We do training, in such things at-... at school.” He catches himself almost too late. He doesn’t share that he was a priest - no priest leaves his order, and they might find out who he is. He couldn’t stand it if that happened. He’d shrivel up and die, if the people had to see what their great hero really is. “Ygridsen means ‘god’s son’. You don’t have a father.”

“Well, I mean. Technically I have one. Just not the one my mother was married to when I was born.” He winks, and Grigori’s eyes narrow more in confusion than distaste. Bohli must misread it, though, because he sighs almost dramatically and grabs a hunk of bread himself, spreading it with thick butter. “Oh, what. Listen, my mother had an idea. It didn’t pan out for her, and here I am. Besides, you should be happy with me being a bastard.”

Grigori finds himself oddly fixated on the sight of Bohli’s long, thin fingers as he lifts the bread to his mouth and bites. A bit of butter sticks to one lip, melting against it. There are crumbs at the corners of his mouth. Grigori wants to do… something to it. But he doesn’t know what. “Why?”

“Because the man my mother was married to was ugly as a dog with mange and about half as graceful,” Bohli says, bright and cheerful, and then grins at Grigori’s shocked half-laugh in return. “There we go. See, I knew you’d be fun, given the chance.”

“What?”

“Never mind. Let me buy you another drink, since I finished yours.” Bohli lifts a hand and the barman finds his way over, pints of beer already ready to go.

Bohli pays for it all, seemingly no end to the coins he has on hand. At some point beer becomes whiskey, heady and too strong, and the room runs together along with all the people in it. Grigori opens up, a little - he doesn’t tell the truth about who he is, but he and Bohli talk about the dangers of travel in the countryside. Bohli nods sympathetically as Grigori explains how careful he is to avoid the Kaila and the bandits within, and how it means that he must always take the longer, winding route everywhere he goes. His words slur but Bohli seems to understand, or at least is polite enough to pretend to.

Grigori hasn’t realized just how lonely he is until he has someone to talk to and discovers himself utterly unable to stop.

Couching his words carefully, he even shares with Bohli that he is traveling because of the untimely murders of his family a year ago, and Bohli nods and murmurs comforting things and puts a hand on his shoulder, rubbing one thumb back and forth in a way that sends a strange heat deep in Grigori’s stomach. He tips his head, looking at that hand, a little confused by its placement there. And far more confused by the fact that he doesn’t want it to stop being placed there, unless it moves down. 

“I think I know how to help you,” Bohli says, and Grigori doesn’t know when it happened but the man’s lips are moving against his ear. His breath is hot and Grigori has to hold back a sound, something odd and helpless. 

Is this-?

This is temptation. Sins of impurity, unchastity. This is his body wanting another’s, more shameful than the nights he wakes up in damp sheets from sweat and has to furtively clean and purify himself after the impure dreams that the priests say are natural, but will fade, in time. 

Dromada’s priests are dead. The men who found him, raised him, made him one of their own… slaughtered by the Kaila-born bandits, destroyed. What use is chastity to a priest with no temple?

Grigori has to hold back a groan when Bohli’s fingers drift up to graze up the side of his neck, up into the nape, into his hair. 

“You have a room here?” Bohli asks, all hushed voice and too much breathing against thin, sensitive skin.

Grigori nods, not trusting his voice, and grabs his bag and stands so fast he knocks his chair over, making Bohli laugh that beautiful brilliant bell-like laughter, drawing the eyes of the room. 

Everyone knows what they’re about to do.

Everyone.

Just by the sight of Grigori all but fleeing to the stairs and the back half of the building, Bohli hot on his heels, still laughing.

****

Grigori has barely dropped his bag and closed the door when Bohli slams into him, surprisingly strong for such a lithe body, shoving his back against a wall and kissing him with a fervor that steals every ounce of willpower he might ever have had to resist.

The world is still spinning, from desire or drink he can no longer tell, when Bohli drops to his knees and yanks Grigori’s pants down until they tangle around his ankles. “Stay still,” Bohli orders, and takes him - already half-hard even not quite knowing what comes next - into his hand. The heat and grip makes Grigori shudder and let out a sound like a cry. It’s nothing like his own hand, nothing at all.

“Ssssshhh, keep it down,” Bohli says, but that teasing smile is back and his hand starts to move, stroking languidly. Grigori has to grit his teeth against the urge to simply spill right here and now, before anything has even gotten started. He swallows and closes his eyes so he can’t see the incredible sight of Bohli’s black eyes as his mouth closes slowly over him.

Grigori probably cries out again, but at some point Bohli stops shushing him and he no longer cares. He comes once and his knees buckle, but Bohli refuses to stop and brings him back to hardness again too soon, his back on the floor and the man straddling him, before he strokes him off a second time, laughing in a way that would be sinister if the pleasure weren’t so overwhelming.

Somehow they find their way into the bed, and Bohli brings him to his peak a third time, a mix of hands and mouth.

“Three,” Bohli whispers, when Grigori is boneless and sated. “That’s a sign if there ever was one.”

“Sign of… of what?” Grigori murmurs, eyes closed, drifting somewhere just before sleep claims him. Bohli is still fully clothed next to him, murmuring sweet soft things and tracing little patterns on his skin.

“Don’t worry about it,” Bohli whispers. “Just sleep, pretty man.” He kisses Grigori on the cheek, sweet and soft, and Grigori falls into the darkness, content in his sin, reveling in the broken vow. He can feel guilty and go to Confession tomorrow. He can worry about that when he wakes and has to feed the hangover again.

He sleeps without dreams, grateful for the peace he’s been given by this stranger he only just met, how his body’s release unlocked some rage and horror he’d been holding tightly within him and gave it the freedom to go.

***

He wakes with a groan, finding his arms stretched above his head, arching his back as he stretches further.

“Oh, damn,” Bohli’s voice says, husky and low. “Now that’s a pretty sight. They breed all your priests to look that good with your robes off?”

Grigori’s eyes fly open, and he moves to jerk himself upright, but his wrists catch. Wide eyes roll back to look up, and he finds his wrists tied with firm knots to the headboard of the bed. His ankles are tied to the posts at the end, forcing him to lie spread-eagled, naked as the day he was born. 

“Wh-... what-”

He turns to look, wincing against the stinging headache and the hangover throbbing behind his eyes, and sees Bohli standing over in the corner. He’s surrounded by the contents of Grigori’s bag, the white robes laid out on the floor, picking up the first hints of dust, along with everything else he has brought with him or bought since he left.

“Why-... I have nothing to steal,” Grigori starts, his body washing cold with something close to fear. He broke his vows for a man who will rob him? What a small mean awful thing to commit such a sin for. “Nothing worth buying!”

“Mmmmn, beg to differ, but I could see how you might think so.” Bohli steps carefully over and around Grigori’s only possessions, until he sits next to him on the bed. He leans over, patting him on the stomach as if soothing a frightened animal. “You have lots to offer, though, Brother Grigori.”

His heart skips a beat. “Why-... why did you call me?”

“Oh, silly holy man. I’ve been looking for you for a year. I’ve been following you for a month. I guess I owe you the twenty marks, though, since it took me this long. Guess I didn’t know where you’d go. Never occurred to me you’d just… fucking stop being a priest. I’ll pay you later.” Bohli grins. “In kisses.”

Grigori’s eyes widen. In a burst of panic and rage, his vision blurs and then clears again, his headache fading. “You!”

“Me!” Bohli grins. “Me indeed. You didn’t forget me completely, then?”

“You… you bastard-”

“Right again!”

“-you killed my family-”

“Technically, that wasn’t me, but Harren did it on my orders, so I guess kind of-”

“Why?!” The cry is one of sorrow, a barely-human wail. Grigori’s grief wells back up and washes out of him, tears burning and running down his cheeks. “Why?!”

“Damn,” Bohli whispers.

Grigori can’t tell if he sounds guilty or like he wants to bed him again.

“Listen. I’ll explain later, once I get you back home.”

“Home?” For a second, Grigori stupidly thinks of the desecrated temple and its empty halls.

“To the Kaila. We live there-”

“Never!”

That just makes Bohli sigh, as if disappointed in him for his lack of enthusiasm. “Oh, hush. You’re going with me whether you like it or not, you know, Brother Grigori. I have need of a priest.”

“You… no.” Grigori struggles against his bonds, the ropes pulling tight, red marks growing on his wrists as the skin rubs raw. “No! I will go nowhere with you!”

“Now, see, you’re lying. I guess if you don’t realize it, it doesn’t count. But, look. You’re going. And you’re going to tell everyone who you are on the way there.”

Bohli leans over, slipping something over his head. A chain with a pendant on the end, simple stone with a runic mark carved in the middle. Grigori feels the burst of elven magic, his mouth dropping open in shock, and then-

His mind feels cool, like slipping underneath the water in a pond, only he has no need to breathe. He can’t imagine needing to breathe. His thoughts are still and calm, contented. Bohli leans close and Grigori wonders how he could ever have felt anger at such a lovely, kind man. The trap spell in the pendant, the elven magic that takes hold of him, feels like being held in such a sweet and soft embrace. It feels like the water closing over his head.

“There we go,” Bohli murmurs. “Pretty-pretty. I’m going to untie you. When you get dressed, make sure you put your robes on, all right? I want everyone to see who you are. I want you to show them off.”

Grigori swallows, nodding. 

He can do that.

“Good. Then we’re going to my house, and that’s where you’re going to live now.” Bohli’s fingers made quick work of the knots on the rope, and Grigori sat slowly up, blinking as if he had to push through a haze to do it. 

When Bohli hands him the robes, he dresses, clumsily. Bohli has to help him tie the belt at his waist.

“Good. You look great. I’m going to pack your bag back up, and then you’ll come with me and be my useful little traitor to the crown, won’t you, Brother Grigori?”

Another nod. He’s not even sure he hears what Bohli is saying. Or cares. He just likes the sound of his voice.

“Good,” Bohli croons. “Very good. Let’s go. I have a king’s reputation to ruin, and you are going to be my secret weapon.”

Grigori follows him downstairs, smiling when the people there eating their breakfast gasp at the sight of his robes. He’s happy to tell them exactly who he is. 

Happy to tell them he’s the Hero they sing about.

Happy to tell them he’s joining the bandits, now, in the Kaila, because the king cannot protect them.

Happy to get on Bohli’s horse, sitting just before him with Bohli behind resting his chin on Grigori’s shoulder, and ride away.

The pendant bumps against his collarbone, and when Bohli whispers, “Sleep upright,” Grigori closes his eyes and lets himself sleep deeper into the pool in his mind, until all is dark and quiet and calm and he knows no more.

-

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @arlin-always-writing @sunshiline-writes @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @befuddled-calico-whump