#it's been too long I think readers of my writing should live in fear of my angst again

[baronetcoins]

what does the spotify oracle tell us about 28 or 76?

[send me a number 1-100 and i will try to write a short drabble based off whatever song that corresponds to in my spotify wrapped]

76: Jubilee Line by Wilbur Soot

I hate to see you leaving Fate worse than dying Your city gave me asthma So that's why I'm fucking leaving

The treaty ink was well and properly dried, carefully folded away in the archives of state. Montjoy had carried it there himself—the last man trusted by both sides. He pulled his tabbard off and folded it neatly on his bed. He'd leave it behind to give his successor something to wear until they could find their own. His fingers traced the embroidered lilies. Would the man that followed him quarter them with the lions?

"Are you going somewhere?" Henry spoke from the door of the room.

"Your majesty." He inclined his head, but did not turn around. Henry stalked forward.

"You've tendered your resignation."

"Yes." Their bodies were close together—his was a small room, and Henry had a way of making himself known. Unbidden his mind summoned an image of how he'd been standing with the princess—her hand in his, their lips almost touching. He stiffened.

"What will you do? Montjoy, King-of-Arms, turned what?" Henry's voice was carefully measured, his hand hovering somewhere near Montjoy's.

"Buy a farm, maybe. Become one of those vintners we have been missing for so long."

"Montjoy—"

"Please." When Henry reached for his hand, he caught it. "I've served the crown for most of my life. Perhaps most of yours. I cannot bear to watch."

"I have no malice against your throne."

"Not that. You. I don't think I could bear to watch your life from away. I thought I would see you die on that field." He squeezed Henry's hand. "I thought that would be the end of it, and I would have nothing but the story of a good king. I'm tired."

"You wouldn't have to be away. I could find a home for you in my court."

He shook his head faintly. "I can't."

"Then offer me this before you go?" Henry reached for his chin, standing up on his toes. He kissed Montjoy once, pressing their foreheads together, and then letting him step past. Montjoy picked up his borrowed hood and slid it over his head.

"Thanks to your majesty." He turned as he grabbed his pack from the door.

"Go in peace, gentle herald."

[sarahreesbrennan]

Are all the themes in “in other lands” supposed to be a commentary on something? Or do you just like writing sex scenes between minors, age gaps, and reverse misogyny?

Genuine question.

Ohhh, my dear anon, I don't believe this is a genuine question.

But it does bring up something I've been meaning to talk about. So I'll take the bait.

Firstly. Yes, my work contains a commentary on the world around us. I wonder what I could be doing with the child soldiers being sexually active in their teens (people hook up right after battles), and the age gap relationship ending in the younger one being too mature for the elder. What could I possibly have been attempting when I said 'how absurd gender roles are, when projected onto people we haven't been accustomed by our own society to see that way'? I wasn't being subtle, that's for sure.

Secondly. Yes I do enjoy writing! I think I should, it's my life's work. Am I titillated by my own writing, no - though I think it's fine to be. The sex scenes of In Other Lands aren't especially titillating, to be honest. It is interesting to me how often people sneer at women for writing romance and sex scenes, having 'book boyfriends,' insinuating women writers fancy their own characters. Women having too much immoral fun! Whereas men clearly write about sex for high literary purposes.

… I have to say from my experience of women and men's writing, I haven't found that to be true.

I’m not in this to have an internet argument. Mostly people use bad faith takes to poke at others from the other side of a screen for kicks. But I do know some truly internalise the attitude that writing certain things is wrong, that anyone who makes mistakes must be shunned as impure, and that is a deeply Victorian and restrictive attitude that guarantees unhappiness.

I've become increasingly troubled by the very binary and extreme ways of thinking I see arising on the internet. They come naturally from people being in echo chambers, becoming hostile to differing opinions, and the age-old conundrum of wanting to be good, fearing you aren't, and making the futile effort to be free of sin. It makes me think of Tennyson, who when travelling through Ireland at the time of the Great Famine, said nobody should talk about the 'Irish distress' to him and insisted the window shades of his carriage be shut as he went from castle to castle. So he wouldn't see the bodies. But that didn't make the bodies cease to be.

In Les Mis, Victor Hugo explores why someone might steal, what that means about them and their circumstances, and who they might be - and explores why someone else is made terribly unhappy, and endangers others, through their own too rigid adherence to judgement and condemnation without pity. The story understands both Jean Valjean the thief and Javert the policeman. Javert’s way of thinking is the one that inevitably leads to tragedy.

Depiction isn't endorsement. Depiction is discussion.

Many of my loved ones have had widely varying relationships to and experience of sex (including 'none'). They've felt all different types of ways about it. If writing about them is not permissible, I close them out. I'd much rather a dialogue be open than closed.

I do understand the urge to write what seems right to others. I've been brain-poisoned that way myself. I used to worry so much about my female characters doing the wrong things, because then they'd be justly hated! Then I noted which of my writer friends had people love their female characters the most - and it was the one who wrote their female characters as screwing up massively, making rash and sometimes wrong decisions. Who wrote them as people. Because that's what people do. That's what feels true to readers.

I want my characters to feel true to readers. I want my characters to react in messy ways to imperfect situations. I love fantasy, I love wild action and I love deep thought, and I want to engage. That's what In Other Lands is about. That's even more what Long Live Evil is about. That sexy lady who sashays in to have sexy sex with the hero - what is her deal? Someone who tricks and lies to others - why are they doing that, how did they get so skilled at it? What makes one person cruelly judgemental, and another ignore all boundaries? What makes Carmen Maria Machado describe ‘fictional queer villains’ as ‘by far the most interesting characters’? What irritates people about women having a great time? What attracts us to power, to fiction, and to transgression?

I don’t know the answers to all those questions, but I know I want to explore them. And I know one more thing.

If the moral thing to do is shut people out and shut people up? Count me among the villains.

[it-happened-one-fic]

Gluttony - Leona

Author Notes: It was actually really difficult to choose what I was going to post this week. But I've been a little busy lately, so I finally just chose this one rather than working on polishing some of my other fics. I wrote this one to the song "Too Sweet" by Hozier and that most certainly showed in the writing. With that said though, I'm pretty pleased with how this fic turned out. As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender neutral reader/ fluff/ some angst with comfort/ romance implied/ some pining/ sfw

Word count: 1528

Leona opened his eyes groggily, a frown on his face, as soon as the sun shone down through the leaves of the tree that hung over him, briefly blinding him before he sat up.

A hum from his left had his ears twitching before he twisted to see you lying right by his side. A slight smile on your face as the shadows of the leaves swayed across your form, and he felt his eyebrows raise.

He wasn’t particularly surprised to see you, though he knew the same couldn’t be said for anyone who might have seen you here.

Leona was no fool. He knew that you and him were pretty much perfect opposites. That’s why everyone always looked so confused when you were walking along beside him. Chattering away with a happy expression or teasing him about something that had recently gone in a way he hadn’t planned for it to.

Leona was the hated second prince. It was his burden, and it was one he’d carried his entire life. It was nothing new.

He was bitter, unpleasant, and something that people preferred to avoid either out of fear or powerful levels of distaste.

And then there was you. Sweet and far more optimistic than he thought he could ever be. And perhaps more interestingly, you were no fool. You knew everything wasn’t flowers and dreams. How could you not when you lived in a place like Ramshackle dorm and didn’t even have a way to get home? 

You were seemingly trapped in a world that wasn’t your own, but you didn’t let that stop you. Instead, you just keep going with your head held high, a smile on your face, and a laugh on your lips as you shrugged it off. It was admirable.

But it also simply wasn’t him. And that was something he knew perfectly well.

That simple fact was also the exact reason your classmates would find it so odd to see you slumbering here by his side and not somewhere else with someone who was a better match for your sweet disposition.

Leona leaned forward, propping his head on his chin as he looked down at where you slept by his side. You’d come here to study in the botanical garden while he’d slumbered next to you. It was something you often did, though he couldn’t fathom why.

It was almost like you either wanted the company or didn’t want him to be lonely. Either of which was ridiculous, since he could think of plenty of people who’d want to be your study buddy, and he certainly didn't want company for his naps.

But then, Leona also didn’t mind your presence, though he had his own reasons for not running you off.

Leona tilted his head slightly, sighing at the sight of you, before pulling the book whose corner was jabbing into your side out of your hands and setting it off to the side where you’d quickly find it after waking up.

He idly scanned the area, half rolling his eyes as he confirmed that your feline companion was nowhere to be seen.

Grim had no doubt long since abandoned you in favor of avoiding anything even close to work.

As for you, Leona didn’t know if you were foolish or bold to have fallen asleep right next to him with no one around to protect you. But here you were curled up at his side, as if he weren’t someone who could easily harm you and were instead someone who would take care of you should you need it.

Which wasn’t something he could really deny to himself, but you didn’t need to know that.

After all, you’d seen him when he’d overblotted and you knew he wasn’t a good person. That should have been enough to send you scrambling to get away from him. But instead, here you were. 

And it was ridiculous.

It was true that it might have taken Jack a little while to realize that Leona wasn’t someone he needed to look up to, but Leona’s actions at the Spelldrive competition had cleared up Jack’s misunderstandings about him. 

Ruggie had always known what sort of person Leona was. It was one of the reasons he hung around. After all, there was safety in sticking close to people like Leona, so long as you remembered what they were truly like.

Both realized, for better or worse, that Leona was not a misunderstood individual who was secretly good. He was jaded, always beaten by others, and essentially worthless.

But then there was you, who was seemingly unbothered by any of this. 

And it wasn’t even like you didn’t believe Leona’s flaws existed; he could work with that. Instead, it was almost like you didn’t care. Like you didn’t really expect him to change outside of your occasional prodding for him to take better care of himself.

You saw his flaws—that much he knew from the times you had bickered with him over something—but you just seemed to accept them. The same way you just seemed to accept other people’s flaws as something that was just a part of them. Only ever really scolding others, or even Leona himself, when their actions either harmed themselves or others.

And that's how Leona knew you were simply too sweet for him. Too sweet for him to endure being near, but simultaneously too sweet for him to turn away.

It was just another show of how worthless he was at anything he tried to do and how little his own efforts mattered. He could try to push you away, but he couldn’t ever stop himself from clinging to you. 

As if you were one of the last sweet bits of his otherwise bitter life. A potent method of making everything else seem to fall away and be ignored so long as he just gets a fleeting taste of that kindness.

And Leona had tried to ignore you, but it was somehow impossible, even when he knew that being close to him could easily taint that sweetness of yours and turn it into a bitterness more like his.

But Leona also knew that you and him were all but opposites, and that was probably where the attraction of being near you lay.

Though that realization did nothing to lessen that attraction, no matter how frustrating it might be.

You shifted, letting out some sort of groggy sound and causing him to snort in amusement at your lethargic movements that had you shifting closer to him as if you craved his warmth. Coming closer to him instead of distancing yourself like you should.

It was ridiculous, watching you now, to think that you’d somehow bested him in the past. But you had. You’d beaten him as well as numerous others at their own game. Making them look like fools, as you seemed to change things simply by existing.

And maybe you did. After all, you weren’t of this world. And perhaps that was why it was so hard for him to detach himself from you.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you twisted to look up at the lion beastman, who didn’t even bother hiding his amusement as you blinked up at him before groggily sitting up, “What time is it?”

Leona glanced around, his ears twitching slightly as he listened to the distant sounds of students chattering as they left their club areas before he looked back your way, “Time to be getting back to the dorms. Club practice has already let out.”

You nodded, not looking terribly surprised and seemingly resigned to having lost the rest of your study period.

“Have you seen Grim?” You frowned lightly as you glanced around, and Leona snorted, leaning back and relaxing once more against the ground, lazily watching you as you collected your books.

“Nope,” At the single word you glanced over at him with raised eyebrows that almost made him want to take back all the previous thoughts he’d had about you being sweet.

But then that tiny bit of bite you had to you only ever seemed to emphasize your sweetness. It was what kept you interesting and at odds with the fools at RSA.

Because, unlike them, you managed to have a certain degree of cunning even with your sweetness. After all, he hadn’t been lying that day when he’d told Azul that you were far more dastardly than the scheming cephalo-punk was.

That was probably another reason why Leona had given up on pushing you away and had even come to expect your presence. He was a glutton for punishment, and with you being a villain that was sweet enough to even catch him unawares, you were certainly enough to keep him on his toes. 

His gaze held yours even as he felt yet another chip in the wall of his defenses fall away, despite the fact that he’d always maintained these walls around himself.

He may not want to let you in, but you really were too sweet for him, and it was reaching the point that Leona was becoming more and more willing to let himself give into his gluttony.

[anyarose011]

Agape

Pairing: Lucius x Reader

Summary: After the Roman Empire had fallen, birthing the Republic, you and Lucius had finally found a moment to breathe in each other's presence. Over a few years' journey of healing, you find that is both exhausting, yet all the more fulfilling at the same time.

Part 2 of 2 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Past SA, Depictions of Grief, Violence, Angst, Miscommunication, Historical Inaccuracies [I tried my best to make it kind of accurate], Nudity (sexual and non-sexual), Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex (f receiving), P in V Sex

Paul Mescal's facial hair in All of Us Strangers, if you can hear us, please save us. Nobody ask me how I went from "’Oh, I’m just gonna write some scenes about healing from trauma, and the rest is smut! Easy!" to then making it just a little longer than the first part. I'm a yapper, but holy shit XD. Anyway, this is just shameless pRopAgAnDa at what I personally view a husband to act like (even in modern times). So, without further ado, thousands of words of hurt/comfort and smut.

Word Count: 16.4k

You were a lucky child. When you were twelve and your friend was married off to a man who was forty-two, you asked your father when you would be married.

He tucked you in that night, saying that he wasn’t certain, and that you had nothing to fear; for he wouldn’t promise you to a man who was in a war the same year you were born. He would have to know him personally as well, saying.

“It’s easier to like a man than have to plan his assassination if he dared lay a hand on you.”

You like to think he would have approved of Lucius; he was the once heir to the Roman Empire.

You don’t think he would have approved of your…informal marriage.

“A year.” Lucius stated as the two of you sat together in one of the piazzas. “As long as we are not separated from each other for more than three days, Rome will view us as married if we live in the same household for a year.”

You hummed. “And why should we care what Rome views?”

“Men won’t stop their advances on you if they saw you as my sister.” he explained. “Even as a wife, that doesn’t stir them.”

“It’s a very Christian belief of you to have.”

“But it makes them think thoroughly on if they want to risk tainting you.” Lucius finally looked at you. “Knowing that I would break every finger they touched you with.”

Even with his proclamation, you merely shrugged. “Being the emperor’s favorite whore, I doubt they would care.”

He sighed. “Do you want to know what my mother wrote? Her final words that will forever be with me because they are in ink? ‘Take her as your wife.’”

It had only been one day since Lucilla’s death, since Rome had become a Republic, and no one knew exactly what to do.

Yet…even at the mention of her presence, you felt tears spring to your eyes.

How you hated crying; and crying and crying.

“It is wise.” You finally settled on. “The people here too must see me as a traitor.”

“You would be dead if they did.”

“It’s still early.” You smiled sadly. “I desired to be free of the emperors, but all they must have saw was lust for power.”

Lucius sighed. “If it is a concern, then I believe it is best to leave Rome.”

Suddenly, you were no longer afraid for your life. You scowled. “Leave the city you risked your life to liberate?”

“It is not just my own life I need to think of now, is it?”

“Then think of mine.” you began. “I don’t wish to leave. Where would we even go? I know nothing outside of Rome.”

This would have been solved if you somehow still had the house you grew up in. The moment Geta claimed you, it was gone. Even with the fall of the Empire, and the birth of the Republic, you could not take it back.

Among many other things, you could not take it back.

“We’ll live just outside the walls.” Lucius suggested. “A farm perhaps a few miles from here-.”

“-A farm?” You questioned. “You know how to farm? Because I sure don’t.”

“I’ve lived longer on a farm than I have in a palace.”

It shouldn’t have surprised you, but it did. You also weren’t in the position to bargain. Even though it wasn’t going to be what most would deem an ‘official’ marriage, he still owned you. That was how it always was, whether living outside of the Roman walls or not. Still, you had to try.

“I will learn as much as I need to,” You shook your head. “but I will find a job in the city. You cannot believe I will be shut out-.”

“-Do you want to share a room, or would you like your own?”

You furrowed your brow. “What?”

Lucius restated. “We don’t have any money to buy a farm, so I’ll build us one. Do you want your own room?”

You had only known him for a grand total of a day and a half (if you were to add up all the previous times you had spoken to him before Macrinus’ death), so needless to say, his offer shocked you; more so, it impressed you.

“Isn’t it odd for a man and wife to not share a bed?” You asked.

“So, you want to share a room?”

“No.” was your immediate response. “I just…”

Am not used to compromising with men without them threatening my life.

“Won’t it cost money to build a house?” You asked instead. “None the less, more for another room?”

“I only want you to be happy, if we’re to be married.”

There you were, asking every question and not being satisfied with his answers, yet he was remaining patient.

“Thank you.” You bowed your head in thanks for just a second before questioning. “I am still allowed to have a job in the city? It will help with the cost, of course.”

 “Where exactly do you intend to work?”

He said your name; not ‘Julia’, the name you had whispered to him in his cell. Lucius was the only one who had said it to you, for you did not even tell Lucilla or Marcus. It still felt strange hearing it on your lips, nonetheless, his.

Still, shaking your discomfort away, you hummed humorlessly. “I know two women who run their own businesses; hairdressing and tailoring. I’m better at hair than clothes, but not so much. And you?”

He sighed. “I’ll see if there’s any other farmers needing a hand.”

“You’re going to work for a farmer to build a farm?”

“It sounded more bizarre in your head than when you said it aloud, did it not?”

That was the first thing you found out about Lucius after all the bloodshed and heartbreak of the last week:

He spoke with such a straight tone, you did not know he was joking until he would smile just a hint; you couldn’t really call it a true smile.

You managed to grin. “I suppose it makes sense. You should find one that will let us sleep there.”

And he did. A farm just a few miles outside of Rome took both you and Lucius in. It was substantial, housing five chickens, two cows, three pigs, four horses, and seven human children. Albeit the children helped with the chores, but the eldest was only ten and could not manage any of the heavy lifting whatsoever, which was where Lucius came in.

From sun up to sun down, he’d work on the farm. The farmers, Atticus and Diana, let you sleep in the barn of all places. The hayloft was nice for the both of you; enough space to spread out but not be right next to each other. There was also somewhat of a wall between the two of you, giving the illusion of separate rooms.

It was certainly an adjustment for you; had been sleeping on the softest of beds for months, but even so, you just missed the bed from your old house.

Lucius fell asleep the second he laid on the hay.

Dreams and nightmares were always a peculiar thing. Some days, you would dream of your mother and father, some days, they would be of Lucilla and Marcus.

You had nightmares of what befell you before coming to the farm; Macrinus and his manipulation, Caracalla’s temper, Geta…

Yet, the worst that would happen would be you waking up more tired than the night prior. You knew Lucius was having nightmares too, but every time you approached him, he would lie and say he was fine, or simply not want to speak of it.

You stopped asking.

For the first few days on the farm, you were put to work by watching over the younger children when their mother was busy. Somehow, it was the older ones you didn’t mind, it was the youngest baby who was a handful.

It’s morbid to say, but you always wondered how any of them survived infancy.

Luckily, you managed to get back to Rome after perhaps a week of being stranded on the farm. It was almost an hour walk, and you had gotten up even before Lucius had, but it was worth it.

It wasn’t that you felt dead as you were on the farm per say, but walking through the streets brought a certain kind of life back into your steps.

You spent a good portion of the day trying to find the hairdressers you talk to Lucius about. Just as you were about to give up and try again tomorrow, something caught your ear.

Hebrew.

You turned over your shoulder and saw a man speaking in Latin to another man and a pregnant woman. The father had spoken in broken Latin before turning to his wife, speaking quickly in Hebrew as if to ask her what to say.

One of the men began to yell, and you rushed over, speaking to the patriarch of the family.

“What’s going on?” You asked quickly.

His eyes grew as if you were the first person in Rome to understand him (you probably were). “I paid for a bag of peaches fairly; two bronze, yet they’re saying it wasn’t enough.”

You turned to the men behind you. “He says he gave you two bronze for the peaches.”

“It was three.” The Roman man gritted his teeth.

Tilting your head, you tried. “Show me your stand so we may see.”

It was perhaps stupid of you to challenge him; yet, he controlled his tempter and led you to his fruit stand. The sign by the peaches indeed said ‘2’, but there was also a good amount of peaches blocking the bottom half of the sign.

When you moved a few, it read ‘3’.

You smiled, looking at the man who spoke Hebrew. “It is three, but it’s not your fault this brute didn’t notice either.”

He nodded, returning your grin before handing the men another copper. With an few mumbled exchanges, the man and his wife were on their way.

“You have Judeans in your family?” The man crudely asked.

Still, you decided to reciprocate his crassness with kindness. “I actually speak five languages.”

He rose his brows. “Is that a fact?”

“Yes, yes it is.”

He hummed, holding his hand out. “Isidorus.”

“Julia.” Was your immediate response as he took your hand and kissed your knuckles. It wasn’t even your own choice to say that name; it was what you lived by. Retracting your hand, you shake your head and said your own name. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-.”

“-All of Rome knows who you are.” He interrupted. “Do not be afraid of your own people. Most of them were there simply a week ago when you tried to slay Macrinus but was there to comfort lady Lucilla in her final moments.”

You only nodded, not wanting to be praised. “I thank you for your kindness.”

“With certain.” He nodded. “You are with child; only a monster would harm a woman carrying.”

The events of the past weeks had made you forgotten about the false babe. Luckily, the fear upon your face could be used to your advantage.

“Are you not well?” Isidorus questioned.

You dropped your gaze, stammering your tone. “The…I lost the child.”

He looked down as well. “Oh…I’m so sorry.”

“No,” you shook your head. “it’s…it feels odd. His father was terrible but…”

“Why are you perusing Rome unchaperoned?” He changed the subject.

 “My betrothed is being put to work,” you immediately answered. “and I am scouring the streets to find my own.”

“What has your luck been?”

“Nothing.”

Isidorus hummed. “I could change that.”

Even at the thought of what he was alluding to, you smiled. “Good sir, I am not in the position to sell my body-.”

“-None of that.” he waved his hand. “My brother works down at the entrance of the city gates. They’re always in need of translators.”

You nodded, considering. “When may I meet with him?”

“Tomorrow?” He asked. “Midday at the gates with many people watching so you do not feel threatened?”

The two of you laughed, and you agreed. “I shall be there. Thank you.”

“Anything to help a woman of the people.”

You walked all the way back to the farm with a skip in your step. Even at dinner, you were more talkative with the rest of the family. Lucius certainly took notice as the two of you were settling down for the night.

“You seemed better today.” He complimented, laying onto his bed of hay.

“So, I’ve been absolutely horrible the rest?” You teased, peeking around the wall of the hayloft.

 “No, just what I think you were like before everything; more yourself.” He explained. “Did the hairdressers go well?”

Leaning against the wall, you crossed your arms. “I’m actually working as a translator down by the city entrance.”

He gave you a look. “How’d this come about?”

“Well,” you began. “I overheard two men arguing, one was speaking Hebrew, and I asked him what was wrong. There was a misunderstanding over peaches of all things, I helped them talk it out, and it was solved with no bloodshed. The vendor said his brother works at the gates and is always in need of translators and offered to meet with him tomorrow. It will be midday and so many people around; do not worry.”

Lucius nodded. “I’ll accompany you.”

“Did you not hear what I just said? I shall be fine.”

“I have no doubt you would.” You knew that was a lie. “One of the scythes broke today, I’ll need to buy another one in the city.”

You didn’t know if that was a lie or not, but it wouldn’t surprise you if Lucius would sneak out in the night and break equipment simply to go with you.

Sighing, you went behind the wall to your side of the hayloft. “Fine.”

To no one but Lucius’ surprise, Isidorus had not lied about his brother, nor the job offer. Of course, the brother had been off put at a woman being the translator (because everyone knows that they are the lesser sex). Still, after some convincing (you talked to a Greek family, a man from Anatolia, and two brothers from Persia), he said you could be put to work.

Lucius stood there the whole hour you had proved yourself.

“You couldn’t have gotten the scythe while I worked?” You questioned him while walking home.

He kept his gaze on the road before him, carrying the farm equipment. “It was engaging to watch.”

You hummed. “I could see how engaged you were while you stood like this.” You crossed your arms and scowled.

“I did not look like that.” He scoffed.

“You did so!” You refuted, lowering your voice. “My name is Lucius Verus Aurelius, the Last Gladiator, son of Lucilla and Maximus, grandson of Marcus Aurelius.”

He looked down, mouth upturning a little. “I do not sound like that.”

“Is that a smile?!” you gasped. “Gods above, I never thought you could unless you were attempting humor!

“Away with you, woman.”

You only laughed as the sun was starting to set.

There was something called a “Fullmoon” period in a marriage. Most now would say it’s “Honeymoon”, but the period in time where a man and woman were in a complete state of euphoria together was called “Fullmoon” because it only lasted for a month.

You and Lucius (even with your strange circumstance) were not immune to this.

A month later, when you had fully settled into a mundane life of working in different areas for hours upon hours, the only times you saw Lucius was when you ate dinner with the farmer’s family, and before going to bed.

It didn’t’ effect you that much for the first three months, as you both were still on good terms and were fine simply cohabitating without affection. This marriage was purely for protection and to honor Lucilla’s wishes.

Then…Lucius came to you one day, saying that together, you both had enough money to build a farm. He already had a patch of land picked out from the help of the famer who employed him. It was five miles away from the farm you stayed at. Five miles more of a journey to the city.

You would move in once the walls were built, which he said would only take a week or two.

It was too fast for you.

Still, you had to go along with it, because you were to be his wife; nothing more. Even so, nothing out of the ordinary besides your hidden, simmering annoyance happened between you two.

The first day construction was to be done was when light was shed upon it.

“Lucius!” You called his name as you approached him and a few other men hauling the wood and stone that would be used. It was mid-twilight when you ran to them.

He furrowed his brow, walking towards you. “Aren’t you meant to be in the city?”

Grinning from ear to ear, you shook your head. “I asked for the day off because of the house. He said I-.”

“-You need to go back and tell him you’ll work.”

Your smile fell from his usual, monotone demeanor. “He doesn’t expect me to come in today-.”

“-Then he’ll be happy to see you.”

“May I just talk for a moment?!” You yelled.

His said nothing.

Sighing, you began. “I will be useful in any capacity. If you need me to help dig for water, measure supports, lift anything-.”

“-Your shoulder cannot carry-.”

You retorted. “-It might be the shoulder you shot, but it’s the shoulder I have to live with, and I will tell you if something is too heavy to carry.”

It hadn’t been the first time you brought up your shoulder after Rome was free. Yet, in the past, it was always out of good fun; something to say to him when you didn’t want to carry as little as an egg from the chicken coop. You told the children the story too why you had to set one of them down after carrying her for so long.

You expected them to cower away from Lucius when he returned for supper, but instead, they all tackled him to the ground to defend your honor.

They didn’t hurt him of course, and you laughed until you couldn’t breathe.

Yet, at that moment, you said it with nothing but disdain; and he heard it in every word. You thought it would have been enough to guilt him into letting you help, you made sure of it.

Lucius titled his head back toward the main road. “Go on, now. The sun will be up soon, it’ll be better to walk without daylight beating down on you.”

The audacity he had. Usually, on the times you’d have disagreements of sorts, you’d try to leave with dignity; perhaps a word of sarcasm or two.

No, you simply turned on your heel and marched away in a huff.

You were harsher that day when translating, and you were still angry by the time the day ended. You ate dinner outside by yourself (until three of the seven children came outside to eat with you), and did not utter a ‘goodnight’ to Lucius before laying down to sleep.

Neither of you spoke to the other for days after that.

It was one morning, not even when the sun was out, as you tried to tiptoe around him, did he ask from his makeshift bed.

“Do you remember where the house is?”

You nearly fell off the ledge of the hayloft. “What is wrong with you?!”

“Do you remember?”

“Yes!” you whispered, afraid to wake the whole farm. “Why?”

“We made the water pump, and the walls and floors are finished. We’ll be able to sleep there now.”

“I don’t see the appeal in sleeping in a house with no roof.”

“I’ll put half of it on today. Tell your foreman too that you won’t be able to work for the next week.”

You furrowed your brow. “Why?”

“I’m teaching you how to tend to a farm.” He wrapped his blankets tighter around him and turned his back to you.

And you continued on your way; making the long trek to the city, which would only be longer when you moved to the house.

When your work was over, you walked and walked. You took a short break at the farmer’s house, making your final goodbyes to the children, and gathering what little belongings you owned.

As you tried to leave, Diana stopped you. She was leading one of the horses, a berber, behind her.

“Take her,” she handed you the reins. “you shouldn’t have to walk so far.”

You shook your head. “I simply cannot-.”

“-I insist.” She smiled. “She’s yours now. Think of it as payment for helping me with the little beasts that are my children.”

Smiling politely, it soon faded. She took notice. “What is it?”

“…I’ve only ever ridden once, and I was a child.”

She sighed yet was still kind. “Come on, my husband’s horse is at your farm. I’ll ride back with him.”

Despite your inexperience, it was actually nice riding a horse. It was perhaps the closest you could ever come to flying in your lifetime; maybe that’s why you enjoyed it. As you were nearing your soon-to-be home, you saw a familiar silhouette along with some others.

Atop the house, against the setting sun, you watched as Lucius continued to add tiles to the unfinished roof. His shirt was off, and even with night beginning to set in with the cold air, he was still breaking a sweat from the rigorous work. You would be a liar if you say that you didn’t catch yourself staring, and it was Diana who had to take the reins.

“What a fine home!” She broke you out of your trance, and when Lucius looked in your direction, you snapped your gaze away.

Lucius nodded. “All that needs to be done is the roof.” He jumped onto the ground just as you were sliding off the horse. He gave you his hand as you were, and you took it.

“Thank you.”

Atticus and the other workers went to a lone tree where their horses were tied. Atticus then approached both you and Lucius.

“Well,” he smiled. “it was lovely hosting the both of you. Please come back as often as you can; I’m sure the children will miss you.”

You all exchanged your final goodbyes, and it when everyone rode off away from you, did you realize something. This was the first time in a while you were alone with Lucius that wasn’t when going to sleep or waking up.

“Do you have a name for the horse?” Lucius asked.

Turning over your shoulder, you led the steed to the tree, petting her as you began to tie her up. “Not at the moment. She’s yours too, do you have any?”

“You’ll be with her more; you should name her.”

Humming you looked at him when you finished securing the horse. “You asked them to give her to me, didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “They asked how they could repay you for taking care of their children, I mentioned how it would be a longer journey to the city once we moved here. That’s all I did.”

…He was better at asking for forgiveness than for permission; that was another thing you learned about him. Still, you nodded your appreciation, inspecting the area around you. It was quite beautiful even with its plainness. The fields stretched on for miles, and there were no tall buildings to cover the night sky. Even the unfinished house brought a sense of happiness to you.

Something that was, at least partially, your own.

“Where will the barn and chicken coop go?” You questioned.

A hint of a smile played on his mouth, but in Lucius fashion, did his best to hide it. “You were complaining about not having a roof, and now you wonder about things for the animals?”

“Perhaps I’m more interested in farming that you are.”

“I’ll teach you.” he led you into the house. “Come on.”

 The front living space was large, and in the corner of it had an oven, so that was where the kitchen would be. Lucius showed you the two rooms as well; each having a single pillow and a blanket.

“We’ll begin planting tomorrow.” he announced. “I don’t think I’ll have to wake you up.”

“You won’t.” You nodded. “Goodnight, Lucius.”

“Goodnight.” He said your name.

You didn’t think you’d ever get over the sound of your own name from his lips.

You named the horse after your mother. Well…not the exact same name, but a similar one. It was quite a scene too when confessing to Lucius you could exactly remember how to ride a horse by yourself.

He didn’t laugh at you, that was what greatly surprised you. He spent an hour teaching you, and you were able to ride her on your own.

Farming was more difficult than you thought it would be, but not so horrible either. Yes, where Lucius was patient with you for the first few days, he made a few snide comments as time passed. Nothing outright mean, but still enough to get under your skin.

Still, you managed to pick it up within the few weeks after that.

He had even let you help him finish the roof of the house; something you didn’t expect him to do. After living in the house for a month, both of you managed to buy actual beds for your rooms, among other luxuries like a few tables and chairs for the main living area, and utensils both for cooking and for eating.

The bathroom was completely bare. Having spent all the money on everything else, it would take time for the both of you to buy a bathtub. Bathing wasn’t a problem back on Atticus and Diana’s farm, but now being away from them, you would be forced to rely on the public baths in the city…

Even with some bathhouses having baths only for women, that did not stop men from forcing their way into them.

You didn’t mind being dirty for weeks on end.

The two of you fell into another pattern of life; you going into the city and spending hours translating foreign dialogue, and Lucius working on the farm for most days, sometimes accompanying you.

There was…something else strange as well.

It was always a coin toss on what weeks Lucius would speak to you or not.

Yes, he was always a man of few words, but this was different. There were some days when you asked him about his day, he would tell you what boring tasks he did. Than, on others, it was just one word: “Good.”

Never “Bad”, never “Just okay”; only “Good”. Even when you knew it wasn’t, that’s all he would say.

And you could endure it.

It had already been a little over half a year since the two of you started living together. In the eyes of Rome (as mere Plebians), you would be married once a year passed.

This was perhaps the best marriage you could as for as a Roman woman. Still…every day that Lucius would not speak to you only brought more dread upon your shoulders.

When he stopped even looking at you, that was when you went to Diana one day.

“It’s so lovely to see you.” She smiled, setting down two cups of wine and sitting. “It’s felt like ages!”

With her youngest baby on your lap, you chuckled, taking a sip of your drink. “You honestly didn’t need to get the wine out.”

“Nonsense!” She waved her hand. “It’s a celebration just to be in your presence. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you as well.”

“How’s the farm? Lucius?”

“Well,” you took another sip, setting your cup down. “the farm has been alright. I know at least how to properly water crops and know when they’re ready to harvest or not. I help Lucius sometimes, but…he likes things his own way. He was a farmer too, I understand.”

She hummed. “And as a betrothed? I hope having your own home would help; to me, you two treated each other more like acquaintances than anything else.”

All you could do was avoid eye contact and bounce the giggling baby on your knee.

“Ah.” She sighed. “So not much has changed?”

“We both talk more than we had at your far, but somehow, less at the same time.” You explained.

Diana reached over and held your hand, asking softly. “When was the last time you were intimate?”

As if she were a man, you tore your hand from hers. “What?”

“I do not wish anything to be forced upon you,” she stated first. “especially with what has happened to you. But…it is still important, especially to your future marriage.”

“We…we haven’t done anything in…months.” You were not going to tell her you hadn’t even seen him naked. You were not going to tell her you hadn’t done you “duty” as a woman.

She nodded. “There must be something plaguing his mind terribly.”

“I know that!” You cried. “He just won’t tell me.”

“Men do not like talking,” Diana sighed. “I have been married to Atticus for fifteen years, and even after ten children, there are parts of his past I still do not know of. What Lucius frets over is important though. You must dig your heels into the ground and let him know you are not doing anything until he tells you what he has issue with.”

The baby on your lap cooed as you held her, reaching for parts of your clothing. Diana took her from you once the baby started fussing, and you offered her a grateful smile.

“I’ll try my best with him.”

She squeezed your shoulder. “He will come to his senses. If not, then he truly hit his head too hard in the Colosseum.”

Except, you couldn’t confront him when you got home. Even though the sun was only beginning to set, when you arrived, the house was silent. You peeked into his bedroom and saw that he was already fast asleep.

With a sigh, you finished your nightly activities, and when the sun went down, you were in your own bed.

The nightmare was unlike any you had before.

Hands from all around you reached out to you. Some grabbed clumps of your hair, stuck their fingers into your mouth, caressed the most intimate parts of your body, or even tear your skin off.

You blinked and then you were in the palace, surrounded by cloaked figures. Someone forced you onto your back, and you looked up and saw Geta, raising a knife high above his head before diving it into your stomach. He carved it out before digging his hands into the opening he made and pulled out your womb.

After sitting up in bed, you had thought you awoken. When you opened your bedroom door, you were welcomed to a field of reeds, seeing nothing for miles. All but a silhouette in the distance. You could not make out it to be a man or a woman; all you knew was that you needed to run to them.

Yet, even as you dashed through the fields, calling out a name you do not even remember, your feet sank into the ground with each step.

The earth swallowed you whole before you could even reach them.

You didn’t awake with a scream; you didn’t even awake with a cry. You did awake in a sweat. Sitting up, you slowly pulled the blanket away from your body. Your stomach was unwounded, and nothing had happened.

Without knowing why, you rose from your bed and slipped on your sandals. Not even putting on a robe, you walked out of the house into the cold, night air. Numbly, you treaded through the tall grass away from the house and stopped.

The stars above you watched as you fell to your knees, and the past finally had the last laugh.

You wept for your mother (whose touch you never felt).

You wept for your father (who you had to take care of the same way he took care of you).

You wept for Marcus (the first man outside of your father to ever see you as a person).

You wept for Lucilla (the woman who saved you in more ways than one).

You wept for the innocence you lost to the twin emperors (and how you mercilessly killed them).

You wept and wept, until you felt bile claw its way up your throat and out of your mouth.

The tears did not stop even after you were finished.

Two hands grabbed your shoulders from behind, and you tried to tear yourself away with a sharp cry. You were turned around, and even though your tears blinded you, you could see that it was Lucius.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his eyes grown.

You couldn’t speak clearly, only shaking your head and saying ‘No’ over and over. Lucius led you to the water pump and sat you down by it. Cranking the handle until the water flowed freely, he cupped his hand to catch some of it before gently washing your face.

The cool water grounded you, and your sobs began to slow. Once you were only left with shallow breathing and a stuffed nose, Lucius finally sat beside you.

“What happened?” He asked again, although, returning to his normal, straight-toned self.

“Bad dream.” Was all you said.

He said nothing at first. Then, looking down at the grass beneath him, he said. “Would talking about it help you?”

It was meant to be a helpful question, but it only angered you. “You ask that now? After I run out into the night screaming?”

Lucius squinted his eyes. “Why does that bother you?”

“I know you have nightmares too.” You scoffed. “I have asked you dozens of times if you wish to talk to me about them, and you have always said no. You’ve never once asked me about mine, so how dare you expect me to tell you about it now when you cannot even share yours with me!”

“That’s not fair.” He shook his head.

You stood up, walking back to the house. “You’re right, it isn’t fair.”

He jumped to his feet. “You can’t walk away without telling me why this is troubling you.”

“You first.”

“What?”

You turned to face him. “We are to be married in less than a year, at least ‘In the eyes of Rome’ as you say, yet you do not even look at me anymore!”

His shoulders fell, and he shook his head. “I am looking at you-.”

“-I ask you how you are these days, and you lie to me every time.” You interrupted. “The few instances you allow me to work beside you, you criticize every little thing I do. I understand that I am the farthest thing you wanted for as a wife-.”

 It was that word that struck a chord. Despite saying it every so often those past few months…it was only then it occurred to you that where Lucius was your first husband…you were not his first wife.

He tore his gaze away from yours, as if he knew you had figured it out. You sighed. “Gods above…I’m sorry for what has happened to her, and I will never know the loss of a love like that…but I cannot be viewed as her replacement-.”

“-Who told you that you were?” He sharpened his tone.

You swallowed, knowing that this would all end in tears no matter what you said. “You do not tell me anything. I will never ask you to care for me the way you cared for her, but she is gone-.”

“-I couldn’t do anything after she died but weep and watch her body float into the ocean.” He hissed. “I vowed to kill the man that slaughtered her, and I didn’t. It had been perhaps just a month since her death, did I promise myself to another woman. I have dishonored her memory three times.”

“I do not know how long you need me to apologize for something I could not control, but I will if that means you will stop hating me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“You hate that I will be your wife!” Your voice was growing hoarse. “I don’t understand it at all. I will be whatever it is you wish me to be in few months’ time, because you will own me. Even if you wish me to be dead, it shall be done because what I want will not matter-.”

“-Must you make everything about yourself?!” He finally yelled. “Would it soothe you if I said I despised every part of you? That if Jupiter himself came down and offered me my old life in exchange for you, I would give you up to him?! Would it give you any peace of mind if I told you I would have rather died in the arena than live a thousand years with you?”

You had expected him to at least pause after he made his confession. To at least have the courage to look you in the eye and watch as the words sunk into your being. Yet, as soon as he finished, he stomped back to the house; and you were alone outside again.

The tears upon your face glimmered from the light in the sky above you, for all you could do was stare at the little farmhouse Lucius had built for you.

How strange that something you once saw as a sign of devotion, was now revealed to be one of complicity.

He had admitted his disdain for your future marriage. You knew that it would be loveless (you would never escape that), but you wished at least for respect. Seeing as how you were not even going to have that, you dragged your feet over to the tree where your horse was tied up.  Mounting her with nothing but the clothes on your back, you raced down the pathway.

For the first day, you had stayed at Diana and Atticus’ farm. You said nothing about Lucius, and tried to spend the most time with the children to avoid any questions.

On the second day, you finally went back to the city. Even though the man in charge of you yelled louder than Lucius had at you, it did not phase you. You merely nodded and returned to work. With what money they paid you for the day, you spent it on a room at the safest inn you could find. You had another nightmare that night. Not as horrible as the one two days prior, but awful enough for you to lay awake until the sun rose.

The third day seemed to be ordinary, until you finished your job, and you were promenading along the market. As you eyed the fruit at Isidorus’ stand, a man came to stand beside you.

“Good sir,” you heard Lucius’ voice. “do you have a wife?”

Isidorus nodded. “I do.”

“What from your stand would you give her if she was angry at you?”

He eyed you before smiling at Lucius. “My ears to listen.”

You turned, promptly walking away. Of course, Lucius followed.

“I didn’t know you confided into strangers about our qualms.”

“He’s not a stranger.” you kept trying to lose him. “And gifts will not suffice for an apology this time.”

He got in front of you, uttering your name. You stopped, sighing. “What else have you come to say to me?”

“That I am a fool.”

Although you weren’t necessarily expecting him to admit it, you only nodded. “You very much are.”

He began. “For my entire life, I was not allowed to be entirely truthful with others. Whether it was how I felt in the moment, or even my own name. I’m not used to the freedom of being candid with one another. And I have been mistreating you; I have provided a home, but I haven’t provided your wellbeing. Ari-.” Lucius paused, breathing through his nose. “Arishat and I lived on a farm, that was all I knew while being a husband. I will love her until the end of my days, but that does not give me the right to neglect you. I will…I will try with all my being to share my thoughts with you.”

You stared at him, feeling as if you would blink, and you would awaken from another dream. Yet once you did and saw that he was still in front of you, you said.

“I didn’t mean to insult your memory of her.”

He shook his head. “I believe she would hit me if she were here and saw how I treated you.”

“Thank you.” You nodded. “Truly, for everything. I…it’s not only you, I don’t know if I will ever feel like myself after…everything.”

Lucius already knew. Still, looking around himself, he then said. “Where is your horse?”

“The inn I’ve been staying at has a stable. You walked the whole way here?”

“It’s what I deserved.”

“You smell horrible.” You mustered a shy grin.

He mirrored you, looking away. “I have for a while.”

“I do as well. I was…I was going to brave the baths; would you like to join me?”

Your offer took him by surprise. Usually, a question like that would be an invitation to more salacious activities to take place. Still, what took him aback more was how you were initially so afraid of the public baths, yet there you were.

“I shall.” He agreed.

Thus, the two of you walked beside one another. There were many baths in Rome, yet it would be challenging to find one that had a separate bath for women and one for men. By the time you reached the third bathhouse, you sighed.

“This will do.”

Lucius shook his head. “I’ll ask the workers at this one if they know-.”

“-No.” You stopped him. “It’s fine. I wish to speak more with you.”

He was still hesitant, but gave in. The two of you entered and drifted off to the separate changing rooms. It was strange that the bathhouse had rooms for the different sex to disrobe, but not baths itself.

After locking your clothes away, you ventured out into the main pool. You were welcomed to an array of naked bodies. You weren’t entirely innocent of course, even before everything. You were never to see any of these people again; it was Lucius you would live with.

Quickly, you disappeared half of your body under the surface of the water and clung to the wall of the large bath. Other people around you laughed and socialized, only putting you more in the eyes of men who only came to the baths for one thing.

Yet, before you could take a moment to worry, your eyes fell to Lucius who entered. You soon averted them and felt the water shift beside you as he entered. You turned to look at him, leveling yourself with the side of the pool, essentially shoulder to shoulder with him. The hear radiating off of his body onto yours reminded you too much of that night months ago; the one where you whispered your name into his ear.

“What were you like as a boy?” You questioned in an attempt to hide how flustered you were.

He hummed. “Why do you ask?”

“If you wish to be more honest with me, than I think it should be best to stary with something minor.”

“I understand. I was spoiled growing up in the palace. Still, I wished nothing more than for adventure. All my life, the mere thought of war and battles were taught as a way to bring glory to the empire; pride for one’s family. I had gotten my foolish wish when Maximus died, and my mother sent me away from Rome.” He paused momentarily, before continuing. “I ran all across the land until I was thirteen, where I finally settled in Numidia. I had changed my named too many times to count and settled upon Hanno.”

Your attention did not waver for a moment. When he was finished you asked. “How old were you when you left?”

“Eight…” There was a sad silence between the two of you. A silence held in almost reverence for all the troubles he had been through. “What about you?”

Even with your uneasiness to answer your starkly different childhood, you did so; also have been promising to be honest with him. You spoke of your father, your past friends, the house you grew up in. He never once looked upon you with envy or hatred.

“Your father sounded like a good man.” He said.

“He was.” You nodded, feeling a weight settle in your chest. "I think he would have liked you.”

“I can only hope.”

The conversation halted after that, unknown if you should wait for him to ask a question, or for you to ask another. Both of your eyes drifted around the bath house as people filtered in and out. When your gaze fell back onto Lucius’ you watched his eyes flicker to something behind you. Before you could utter a word, he placed his hand upon your bare back, bringing his lips to the space between your ear and your jaw.

It all happened so fast you had no time to react, and your body shivered upon the feel of him being so close to you.

“There’s a man eyeing you from behind.” He whispered into your skin. “Don’t look at him, just keep looking at me. I’m sorry.”

You pulled away slightly, doing as he told. He traced circles on your back with his thumb, staring intently at you. Even as you shrunk under his eyes, they did not frighten you.

Deciding to play along, you trailed your hand up his bare arm until resting on his shoulder. You felt his skin erupt into goosebumps and he took a sharp intake of breath.

“Okay?” You asked.

He nodded. “Yes, it’s just…it’s been a while.”

Anyone with any sense knew that meant more than one thing. It had been a while since he felt anyone’s touch; nonetheless, a naked woman’s.

From behind him, you saw a small group of girls all looking at you. They all looked a little younger than you, and acted like so, giggling loudly and talking without a care in the world. It was only then that you noticed they were looking at Lucius.

“Is there someone eyeing me now?” He attempted to tease you when he noticed your gaze.

You nodded, no hint of humor behind your voice. “A good few of them.”

“Is that so?”

You removed your hand. “I wouldn’t mind, you know.”

“Wouldn’t mind what?” He pinched his eyebrows together.

“…Getting your release from a woman that isn’t me.” You were puzzled by his seeming ignorance. “You’re a man, I understand-.”

He said your name with somewhat of gasp. You didn’t listen one bit.

“No, I mean it. I will not be more selfish than I already have been, expecting you to remain celibate because I don’t think I will-.”

Lucius said your name again and you stopped. Even when you did, he said it a third time as if to know he had your attention. He continued to run his fingers up and down your back.

“I will not dishonor you-.”

“-I have been dishonored several times before, it does not matter-.”

“-Listen to me.” He said softly yet firmly. “Even if I desired someone carnally, it is not selfish of you to want my loyalty. I’m not a boy who wishes to bed anything that breathes. I don’t think I can do so with someone I do not have any deep feelings for. You are my wife, and I will not treat you less.”

He didn’t call you his ‘betrothed’. As if, the moment you accepted his apology, you were already his other half. To hear him speak with so much certainty after neither of you knowing what any day would bring…it brought an astonishing comfort you never knew you needed.

“Thank you.” You felt like your heart could beat again.

“You don’t-.”

“-No but I do. I don’t…I don’t think I could give you anything of myself if you wanted it. It’s still…I remember a lot of what Geta did to me, and I forgot it at the same time. It doesn’t happen a lot in my nightmares, but it still does. That one night you found me he…he cut out my womb and held it in his hands. I thought I woke up, but I didn’t, and I think I was in Elysian Fields, but I only saw a shadow. I don’t know what any of that means.”

Lucius let you finish all of the anxiety you had thrown onto him. Still, releasing a shallow breath, he said.

“You die in most of my dreams.” He clarified. “The bad ones, I mean. A lot of people do, but you’ve been in them the most. There are times I see both you and Arishat, or my mother, or all three of you and…those are the worst. The night I found you outside, I couldn’t…I had a horrible dream that I couldn’t even see your face, but I knew it was you when I found you hanging in the Colosseum.”

If the both of you weren’t naked and, in the bathhouse, you would have embraced him. Yet, with the most understanding look in your eyes, you brought your hand to the base of his neck, his loose curls between your fingers. You swore you felt him relax into your touch for just a moment.

“I’ve known everyone to have their own beliefs of dreams.” You whispered. “They’re meant to predict the future, they reflect the past, they are punishments, they are blessings, and they mean nothing. I wonder if it’s possible they are all of them.”

He nodded. “I don’t know what I believe in anymore.”

“I do.” Lucius unknowingly leaned into you just ever so slightly. You grinned from ear to ear, pulling your hand away from him. “I believe you need to cut your hair.”

He chortled. “I’m not spending anything on cutting it. It’s fine.”

“I’ll cut it then.”

“I would rather be stabbed.”

“Oh, quit being dramatic.” you playfully swatted him. “There’s a reason I would’ve been a better hairdresser than tailor.”

The two of you teased one another for a minute longer after that. Than, even though the conversation died, it was not in vain. There was a quiet gentleness and protectiveness as you both shared a short distance between each other while bathing. Lucius kept his eye on you more than you did him, knowing that it was always possible a man could try to take advantage of you.

When all was said and done, you got your horse from the stable at the inn, and the two of you rode back to the farm with a newfound understanding of each other.

More than a year and a half have passed since the fall of the Roman Empire and its subsequent birth of the Republic. Your strange marriage with Lucius grew into a friendship of respect and understanding. You both talked more than you had when you were first betrothed, even if your busy schedules remained the same.

The farm had improved after its first harvest, even raising enough money to build a chicken coop and house a few chickens. The house itself was more furnished, and the two of you managed to purchase a bathtub, no longer needing to use the public ones in the city.

Both of you had changed as well. Even with what minimal farm work you did, it built both your strength and stamina. Lucius had begun to grow out his facial hair; not much for it to be an actual beard, but more so just under his nose. You’d joke about it looking like a caterpillar, to which he would lightly shove you away.

After the intimate discussion the two of you shared, it was only then you both realized you still didn’t know much about each other. Most importantly, the little things that made each of you a person.

So, you’d take time to get to know one another.

You were helping Lucius pull weeds around the crops when you found out he had ripped a monkey’s throat out with his teeth during his very first gladiator fight.

You were reading a collection of poetry one night when Lucius told you that you mouth the words of whatever you’re reading if you find it most interesting.

During supper one night, Lucius ate the entirety of the plate only to then eat whatever else you hadn’t. That was when your theory was proven right; he does forget to eat sometimes.

Both of you had tried to keep the housework to an equal amount; if he cooked one night, you’d clean the kitchen and vice versa. Yet, some remained stagnant; you always cut his hair, yet he always changed the horses’ shoes.

Cutting his hair was perhaps your favorite way to speak with him.

“Remember to clean your sandals before coming in next time.” He reminded you as he sat on a tree trunk outside. “You tracked in mud.”

Standing behind him while trimming small hairs, you shook your head. “My apologies, master of the house; it was downpouring and I was freezing.”

“Serves you right, I’d say.”

You placed the tip of the shears against his neck. “What else do you have to say?”

He snickered. “That you’re an astonishing woman who I am blessed to have.”

“Wrong answer, all lies.” You pretended to stab him, only to bring the shears back to his hair.

“I’m not lying!” Lucius laughed.

You only gave him a ‘tsk’ before continuing. “Are you sleeping any better?”

He said nothing at first. Your eyes drifted down to his hands and saw him pull on his tunic; another telltale sign of his nervousness.

“I keep seeing my mother’s face.” He admitted. “Only her face, nothing else.”

“It was the third night last night, right?”

“Yes.”

You sighed. “Would you want to hear a dream I had a few days ago to make you feel better?”

“Better because it was happy, or because you think I’ll feel happy I wasn’t you?”

“The latter.”

“Tell me.”

You turned his head to the side gently, continuing your work. “I stood in front of the entire senate of Rome, and they were all laughing at me. I don’t even know what I said, they only laughed and laughed.”

“Is that not what happened to you in the waking day?”

“No, they listened…I think.” You shook our head. “It more so angers me that, in the waking life, I presented logic to them, and they still chose Macrinus who showed nothing of the sort.”

“Some men like to speak of only desiring logic yet run away with their emotions once it is presented.” Lucius stated. “What had you told them?”

“That all of Rome would continue to riot if they killed Lucilla.” You said grimly. “I still don’t understand; they had their proof of the rage Rome’s children could feel when their general was killed, the only reason the city did not fall was because Macrinus was slain. I’m done.”

You set your shears down and Lucius stood, shaking the fallen hair off his clothes. He turned to you.

“If it matters at all, I think the only reason this house hasn’t fallen is because of you.”

Grinning from ear to ear, you shoved him playfully. “Away with you, you’re just as much of the reason as I am.”

“I do all that I can.”

There were moments like this where you would not speak of childhood memories or events of your day. These moments were reserved for the days where it felt like time slowed down just to give you two the grace to speak about them in more detail.

With only a single candle between the two of you one quiet night, you told him how you have to walk a different path in the city sometimes simply to avoid brothels; hating the sounds you would hear from inside, the stench of cheap perfume and sweating bodies burning your nose, the men who would brag to their friends about the women they had.

At breakfast one day, before the sun had even rose, Lucius told you about a time when he was ten, still on the run. He had gone into a man’s house with the promise of food, only to then be hit the head with something so heavy, he was knocked out. He had awoken in a dark room, but managed to find a curtained window, and escaped. He never knew what would have happened to him if he had woken up just a minute later.

There was tenderness you shared with him that you had never shared with anyone in your life.You sht

That was only more apparent on one fateful day.

The first bad omen for the day that morning was when you had run out of sugar for breakfast that morning. The second was when your horse was extra stubborn as you rode her into the city; it was so out of the ordinary, you wondered if you did something to make her hate you.

Still, everything was fine once you went to work. At least it was for the first half of the day.

There were aggressive people from across the land coming into the city you certainly had to deal with, but the worst was when a man twice your size bluffed you with a slap. Even so, the other men you worked with had yelled and sent her away.

That day though…there was a woman with a look in her eyes.

You thought you had seen pure rage when you had been with Geta. Yet, that day was a lesson to you; wrath had many faces.

She mumbled in Greek, but you did not know what she said at first. Then, she attempted to speak Latin. You politely told her you could speak Greek, and so with exhaustion, she told you that she was going to visit her mother.

When asked for her mother’s name, she didn’t say it. After asking again, she became enraged, yelling at you that she should just be able to be let in. When you resisted, she grabbed your bad arm, yanking it to pull you closer to her.

The pain shot through your shoulder like a bolt of lightning, and you cried out. She tugged on your hair as the men beside you tried to pry her away from you. Luckily, she didn’t manage to yank any of it out once the men forced her away from you. Tears fell freely over your face as you cradled yourself, unable to stop the sobs from leaving your lips.

They let you leave early yet paid you as if you were there the whole day.

The ride back to the farm wasn’t any better, but at least your steed took notice of your heartache and was more merciful to you. When you made it home, you slowed her down when you saw Lucius limping towards the house.

You both stopped where you were, staring at one another as if you weren’t supposed to be seeing the other.

“Why are you back so early?” He asked first.

“Why are you dragging your foot?” You asked second.

Lucius took a deep breath, and you saw tears in his eyes. “I fell.”

The only time you had seen him cry was when burying Lucilla; it wouldn’t be from simply falling. You slowly pulled yourself off your horse but did so quick enough before he could rush to help you. You wished nothing more than to pull him into the warmth of the house, to sit him down and tend to his wound to distract you from your own.

Yet, the moment you took his hand, he began to weep.

“Oh Lucius.” You whispered, bringing your hand up to cradle his face. He wrapped both of his arms around you, bringing you onto the ground with him. You yelped a little when he squeezed your bad shoulder too tight, and he pulled away.

“What happened?” He asked.

You shook your head. “You need-.”

“-What happened?!”

Knowing he wouldn’t stop asking, you told him. “Someone at the gate attacked me. Pulled on my bad arm, my hair…it wasn’t as bad as you’d think-.”

“-Where is he?” He lowered his tone and his demeanor.

Your jaw dropped into a surprised huff. “She is long gone by now, and even if she wasn’t then as my husband, you should stay with me instead of wandering the streets of Rome hoping to find someone to be your anger’s victim!”

Though he still wore that rage upon his face, it soon fell once he saw your own tears fall from your eyes like dewdrops on flowers. Lucius laid himself flat on the dirt, and you sat above him.

“I have been married to you longer than I had been to Arishat.” He confessed. “I knew her for longer, but-but not as deeply; no, I-I knew her more than…I don’t…It’s been long since her death, yet there are moments I think of her, and I cannot stop crying.”

You never knew this was in his heart. You knew to never speak of Arishat, only listen whenever he would bring her up (even so, it was once in a blue moon).

“I’m sorry.” He sniffled, trying to pull himself together. “I know she is gone, and I shouldn’t be-.”

“-You shouldn’t what?” You interrupted. “Remember her? You think I wish for you to forget the woman you so loved?”

He shook his head. “No, but it’s selfish of me to-.”

You were the one to make him lose his words this time. With both hesitation certainty, you placed his head into your lap. It was too late for you to stop once you did, and you felt your own body tense. Then, upon taking a look at his body battered from rigorous work, and another at his face, which relaxed with his eyes fully shut, you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Lucius,” you sighed. “never will I think you are a horrible man for mourning her. You missing her shows just how much you adored her, and how she was a treasure to you. In another life, above all, I wish I could have met her. You are not in the wrong for wanting to see her again. I know you do not love me-.”

“-I do love you.” He opened his eyes upon saying it.

Your heart felt as if it was going to beat itself out of your chest and run away when he said those four words. To preserve your sanity, you took it a different way and smiled sadly.

“Not in the way you loved her.” You said softly. “But what else more can I ask for in a husband than one who treats me with a gentleness I did not know was possible? One who has been there to protect me even before we were married?”

Lucius took a deep breath, rubbing his face to clear away his tears. “You’re too good to me.”

“Gods above,” you groaned tiredly. “we can go back and forth on who deserves each other. Let us just go back into the house, have supper, and sleep.”

“I would like that.” He hissed as he went to stand.

Helping him, once he was on his best foot, you said. “You never told me what you did to your leg.”

He looked behind him at the field. “There was a snake and a rock.”

You gave him a look. “And what happened with them?”

“I don’t wish to speak of it.” He said grimly.

In any other instance, you would have laughed. Yet, as his eyes were still heavy from crying, you just nodded. The both of you helped each other into the house, and you sat him down on one of the several cushions in the living area.

“Your arm,” he asked. “how bad is it?”

You shook your head. “Just really sore. I think she might have left a nasty bruise or two somewhere, but I won’t know yet.”

“Put one of the cloths in the pot with water and put it over the fire.” He told. “Take it out after a few minutes, let it rest for another, then put it on your shoulder. It should help.”

“Thank you.” You stood, doing so, saying. “I swore we had bandages somewhere. I’ll make something for you to drink too; I bought some herbs just last week.”

He nodded, not taking his eyes off of you as you worked. If it were any other man, you would have felt unsafe; yet, it was only Lucius.

Little by little that night, both of you helped heal one another.

Half a year passed since that night, and you and Lucius had only grown closer. Perhaps as close as you could be with a man who was not your husband by choice.

Not much on the farm had changed; you two were living comfortably, and happily, almost making all the turmoil from the first year worth it. The both of you decided to make more visits to Atticus and Diana’s home, realizing just how much you both missed having someone to talk to outside of each other; but that did not mean you had to keep things hidden of course.

If anything, you shared everything with each other.

So much so, that when Lucius asked you why you held onto him longer when he embraced you on your birthday, you told him the truth.

“I don’t want every time we touch to be when it is in turmoil.” You explained, growing meeker. “And I…I’ve missed the feeling of it when it has not been forced upon me.”

Lucius stared at you with a look you had never seen from him. He had been gentle with you many a times, but they way his eyes fell into yours…

He took a step closer to you, and when you showed no sign of discomfort, he took your face into his hands. Your eyes shut at the feeling of him, and he pressed his head against yours. Never in your life had someone’s breath upon your skin feel so immaculate.

From there on out, it always seemed like you had to have a hand on each other one way or another.

It started with holding hands whenever walking through the city together. He used to ‘lead’ you through the crowds in the past, but more so with a hand hovering over your back. No, him holding your hand meant he would have to go where you would go if anything were to happen.

Alongside this, he’d reach over and hold it at Atticus and Diana’s house; whether it was during dinner, or simply just talking. The eldest child had said what the rest of the household had been thinking.

“They’re finally acting like they’re married!”

Because even when there were no other eyes besides yours, he would still hold your hand. You wonder if it ever became a way for Lucius to ground himself; because it certainly did for you.

You hugged him more often as well. Those used to be for ‘substantial’ occasions; those being celebrations or heartbreaks. Now, they were incorporated into greetings and goodbyes. Of course, it only took a few weeks before they were than made into simple desires.

He would be cooking dinner, and you would come beside him to embrace him. You would be gathering eggs from the chickens, and he would wait for you to set the basket down before tossing his arms around you.

At night, it was normal for you both to trade spots as one of you would read a story, and the other would have their head in the other’s lap.

This happened on so many occasions, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise for what Lucius proposed next, but it did.

“If you don’t favor the question I’m about to ask you, then you are allowed to never speak to me again.” He said, his feet hanging off the arm of the lecti couch you both bought that year.

“Well,” you scoffed, sitting on the end of it. “I will have to speak to you again because we live together.”

“Would you want to sleep in my room tonight?” Never in your life had you thought that would have been his question. When you didn’t speak right away, he backtracked. “I don’t expect you to. I understand if-.”

“-The nights are growing colder.” You stated, no visible uneasiness. “I’ve noticed it, and I don’t think any number of blankets could warm me.”

He swallowed thickly, and this was perhaps one of the first times you’d ever seen him like this. “Yes…it’s cold.”

You nodded, and another beat of silence fell between you two. Standing up, you tugged at the seams of your dress. “I-I’ll go change.”

“Yes,” he sat up. “I shall as well.”

Disappearing into your room, you tossed your day clothes off then slipped on a nightdress. After pacing around the floor for a few moments, you gathered the courage to go out into the hall and knock on Lucius’ door.

It was opened as if he was standing right behind it.

He wore just a plain, tattered tunic, and said nothing; yet, you caught his eyes run down you before immediately bringing them back to your face. You were not even in his room yet, and already your body grew warmer.

“May I come in?” You asked.

“Yes, of course.” He stepped aside and you entered.

Somehow, you were no longer man and wife; you were two people who had just discovered a strange, yet burning, feeling that you both held for one another. A feeling that you were both afraid to say aloud…because then it would be real.

The only light in his room was from the moon just peeking through the curtain of his one window. Looking around, you saw that it was still just the bare minimum; a bed, a small table beside it with a lamp, and a dresser. The only others things of note were his sword leaning against the wall, and just a few dirty clothes on the floor.

“I-I tried to clean before you came.” He mentioned.

“Is the rest under the bed?” You asked.

He chuckled. “Yes.”

Before you could change your mind, you pulled the covers off one side of the bed and slid under them. Glancing behind at Lucius, you saw him wear a look where you knew he wanted to say something.

“What is it?” You asked.

“That’s usually the side I sleep on but-.”

You rolled over to the other side. “Are you content now?”

He wheezed, moving to his designated side, slipping under the covers. “Very.”

“Good.” You smiled up at him.

His own mouth lowered as you could see him thinking. He then said. “I don’t expect us to do anything.”

You watched as his eyes dropped from you, as if it was too invasive just to merely look. Thinking from only your heart, you scooted closer, resting your hand on his arm. You ran your fingers up and down his muscles, but then guided his arm to wrap around your waist.

“Okay?”

He hummed, pulling you just a little closer. “Yes.”

“And we’ll just lay together?” You whispered. “Nothing else?”

“Nothing else.”

And that’s what you did. The compete truth was that you would caress him only to remind yourself that it was Lucius and not Geta. His arms, his back, his face…he was nothing like him.

After a few more nights, you told him that as you both lay awake, unable to sleep. He had pulled you on top of him that night, saying that you could see his face better in the moonlight. You only giggled, hiding your face in his chest; even that was too much for you.

It was easier to tell each other things in the darkness. You always knew that, but with being in the same bed (you had not gone back to your room for a week), the words flowed out of both your mouths.

“After my father died,” you said one night as you laid on your side facing him. “I would stroke my own hair or even my arms and pretend they were someone else’s. Even when I was with Geta.”

Lucius stared at you, then immediately began to caress your cheek. You shut your eyes, sighing at the feeling.

“I never thought I’d be able to sleep next to another woman again.” He whispered.

“And now?” You looked into his eyes.

He stopped his movements, but did not remove his hand. You watched every part of him. How his chest heaved shallowly, his arms tensing ever so slightly, but his eyes…gods his eyes. They were heavy as they looked at you; a look that made your heart flutter and not shutter.

Swallowing your fear, you sat up and inched closer to him. Your face hovered above his, and your breath heated his skin. His hand continued to trace shapes about your cheek, and shutting your eyes, you placed your lips upon his.

It was the gentlest kiss you ever shared with a man.

You had pulled away, dreading to see how he felt. When your eyes befell his gentle smile, and his other hand came up to cup your face, you kissed him again.

And again, and again, and again.

You climbed upon his lap without pulling your lips away from him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He sat up, his own arm encircling your waist and drawing you impossibly closer.

Lucius parted from you, and as you whined at the loss of his lips, they soon settled upon your cheek, and then your jaw, and then your chin. Your heavy pants turned to soft grunts as he kissed down your neck, his mustache scratching your skin in just the right way.

Your hands settled into his hair the lower he traveled, moving your night gown off your shoulder to kiss your collarbone. You felt yourself becoming intoxicated from him, and only then noticed you had been for a while.

Oh, how you wished you could bottle up his laugh, his strength, his stubbornness, and get drunk every night. His kisses only added fuel to the fire that was your desire for him.

He sunk his teeth into your skin, and your body, once enflamed, ran cold.

“No!” You tore yourself from his lap, nearly falling off the bed.

Lucius said your name, leaning forward on instinct but soon stopped once he saw you crawl away. “I’m sorry.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. All you knew was that you needed to go, so you did. Cradling yourself in your arms, you got up from his bed, rushing out of his room and into yours.

You half expected him to knock on the door, then, when you wouldn’t answer, him yell and curse you before breaking it down. Yet nothing of the sort happened. You heard his own door open, and you saw his shadow on the other side, but he did not touch your door. He left after a moment of waiting.

When his own door shut, did you finally cry.

You told yourself that night, you would wake up far earlier than Lucius would so you simply wouldn’t have to see him.

When you awoke, you did the exact opposite. You laid in your bed, trying to return to sleep, only to be forced to lie in the dark. The sun rose into your room, and you heard Lucius’ door open. Still, you did not get up.

It was quite comedic, actually. With your door still shut, he knew you were still home. How he tried his best to keep quiet for you, yet his footsteps had always been heavy, the front door had always creaked, and you could always hear him cursing under his breath every time.

When you knew he had left the house, that was when you stood from your bed, slipping on your sandals. You didn’t bother changing out of your nightdress, leaving your room, and then the house.

Lucius was amongst the chickens when he saw you. He didn’t bother hiding the surprise upon his face at the sight of you. You walked to him until there was little space between you.

“Last night-.”

You took his hand from his side, placing it upon your face. He rubbed your cheek with his thumb as if it was natural. Kissing the palm of his hand, you trailed it down to your clothed breast. He breathed your name with hesitance, but you shushed him. You held his hand there, not taking your eyes off him.

“I will show you, one day.” You told him. “I will show you the mark Geta had made. The one where I myself can scarcely see it, yet I know that it haunts me. But now…” You brought your other hand up to his face, tracing your thumb over his lip. “I just want you to understand.”

He kissed the pad of your thumb, nodding. You embraced him, and he held you with both gentleness and ferocity. The rest of the day carried on as normal, yet you aided him with the chores on the farm.

You went to bed with him that night, but it was the first time he did not entrap you in his arms. You knew he was still afraid of hurting you, but you would be a liar if you said you weren’t thankful for the space.

Still, he would feel your touch every day; whether it was something as small as brushing his hand, or as substantial as kissing his cheek.

As the both of you lay awake one night, you played with the sleeve of his tunic.

“Could I lie on top of you?” You asked.

Lucius looked over at you, nodding. “You never need to ask.”

“I want to.” You climbed on top of him, straddling his lap. “I never want to force you to do anything.”

His eyes fell to your hips before returning them to your face. “I’ll tell you if I wish to not do something. I hope you know you can as well.”

“I do. Would you like to touch me?”

“Where do you want me to touch you?”

You moved his hands to your hips, which he held firmly, yet not enough to hurt you. You leaned down so your lips touched his.

“No teeth.” You said.

“No teeth.” He repeated.

Lucius sighed into your mouth as you kissed. Despite how you were on top of him, the kiss was sweet, shy even. When you pulled away, you trailed your lips from his cheek to his ear.

“Do you dream about me?” You rasped.

He said nothing, and you continued to kiss every part of his face besides his lips.

“It’s okay.” You kissed his Adam’s Apple. “I want you too.”

“Yes.” His breath hitched.

“What was I doing in your favorite one?” You kissed his pulse point.

“You,” he breathed sharply through his nose. “you’re touching yourself.”

“Would that please you?” You sat up in somewhat surprise, resting your hands on his chest. “To watch me do so?”

He shook his head. “I want to do what pleases you.”

It felt foreign to hear someone say they want you to feel good. Instead of cowering from it, you faced it head on. You kneeled for a moment, hiking your gown up to your hips before sitting back on your ankles,  exposing yourself to him. Lucius’ jaw clenched at the sight of your naked center, and he drew his hands away from your hips, falling them into fists upon the mattress.

“I wish to watch you as you watch me.”

Without looking away from you, he drew his hand down to his cock, pulling it out from under his tunic. Your eyes grew just a hint. There was no doubt upon him being more well-endowed than others, but it was still different from how you imagined.

Shutting your eyes, you trailed your fingers over your cunt, your thumb playing with your clit. The sounds of Lucius’ smothered grunts, and the skin of his cock on his fingers only added to your pleasure. Digging deeper and moving faster, you felt a coil within your stomach tighten when you opened your eyes and saw as Lucius’ gaze bore into yours.

Light moans escaped your lips as your hips moved with a mind of their own, watching the man beneath you take pleasure from his own hand. It was him chanting your name like a prayer that sent you over the edge. With your eyes shut, the coil within you snapped, and pleasure filled your veins.

Not long after, you felt a warmth coat your nightdress. Opening your eyes, you looked down and saw the white-hot residue of Lucius’ release. Your gaze drew to his cock, still clutched in his hand, yet red with droplets of white running over his knuckles.

You don’t know what possessed you to, but you lowered your mouth down to clean him with your tongue.

“Gods be good!” He huffed, laughing your name.

“What?” You wiped your mouth.

 “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Grinning like the devil, you slid off the bed, walking towards the door. “I hope it’s a pleasant one then.”

He sat up. “Where are you going?”

“To change. You dirtied me as well.” You teased.

“Take one of my tunics from the dresser.”

It almost made you laugh that he didn’t want you to leave for even a second. You opened the top drawer, grabbing the longest tunic you could find before facing him. “Close your eyes.”

He laid on his side, putting a pillow over his head. Many would find it strange how the both of you would see the most intimate parts of yourself while doing one of the most intimate acts together, yet you didn’t want him to see you naked.

But Lucius never thought of it as strange. He knew what you had been through, and never once judged you.

When you were clothed, you slid into bed, wrapping your arms around his body and pressing a quick kiss to the back of his neck.

“You’re a good man, Lucius Verus Aurelius.” You whispered. “I will tell you that until the day you die, or when you finally believe me.”

He squeezed your hand, relaxing into your touch. You never slept so peacefully until that night.

You always had to see him whenever he would touch you so intimately. There would be nights where there was only a single candle in the room as he trailed his hand up your thigh whilst you sat on his lap.

His fingers were too much for you at first, but he never ridiculed you. When you whimpered at the feeling, he retracted them, kissing your eyes. You asked him again to try, and he whispered praises into your hair as the pain from a dry spell soon turned into pleasure.

It was usually at night did these moments of exploration occurred. In the day, the most you would ever do was kiss. That is, until the first time you cut his hair since the discovery of feelings.

“I don’t want to get hair on your floor.” Lucius said as he sat on the floor, leaning his back against the foot of your bed. It was hotter than sin that day. He wore nothing but a loincloth, but that barely did anything to help him from the heat. You wore essentially a thin shift that would usually be under your dress; yet again, because of the heat, that was all you wore.

You sat on the bed, legs draped over his shoulders as you cut his hair. “It’s your floor too. You built the house.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I haven’t slept here for a while now. Besides, I will clean up.”

“I had no idea you favored doing domestic work now.” He turned and pressed a kiss to your knee.

You slapped the back of his head. “Don’t move! I’ll give you a bald spot if you do so again.”

“Yes, my mistress of the house.” He joked.

“You’re horrible.”

“You just told me I was a good man not so long ago.”

“And I can just as easily revoke that title.”

He stayed silent the rest of the time, but not from any underlining anger. Simply from his at ease posture, you knew he was smiling.

He smiled more those days.

When you were finished, you tossed your scissors aside, but Lucius’ hands settled upon your thighs, not allowing you to get up. You scoffed.

“What is it?”

He turned to face you, kneeling up to meet you. “I wish to try something, but only if you wish it as well.”

You rose your brow, but smiled, kissing his nose. “It will be difficult if I do not know what it is.”

Without drawing his eyes away from yours, he slid his hands up your thighs, bringing the bottom of your shift with it. It seemed normal at first, but once he lowered his mouth, your chest tightened.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“I want to kiss you there.” His breath caressed your cunt and you mewled at the feeling. “I think you’ll enjoy it, but we don’t have to.”

Your heart changed from beating in fear, to then in anticipation. You loved how he kissed your lips, and every inch of your skin that was not covered, what would it feel like to have his lips there?

Kissing the top of his head, you laid on your elbows, nodding.

“Let me hear you say it.” He nosed the inside of your thigh.

“Yes.” You sighed. “Please.”

He lowered his mouth back down, pressing the lightest of kissed onto your center. You groaned through shut lips, only for them to part open as the hairs of his mustache tickled you whilst he began to lap at your wetness.

Tossing your head back, you sat up, running your hands through his hair, unconsciously rolling your hips to meet his mouth. His groan reverberated through your body, only adding to the pleasure you were feeling.

“Lucius, Lucius,” you babbled his name until it didn’t sound like a word.

His nose bumped against your aching clit the same time his tongue penetrated your cunt. You yelped as that familiar, tightening feeling swept over you. His half-lidded eyes would stare up at you every once in a while, as he would continue to drink from you as if he had been stranded in the desert. Just as you were on the brink of release, you drew him away from you.

“What-what is it?” He huffed. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, pressing your lips to his before scooting further up the bed. With one last breath, you pulled your shift over your head, revealing your bare body to him. His gaze ran over your figure unashamedly.

“Come here.” You beckoned.

He crawled onto the bed and over your body, yet still looked at your face. You took his hand and laid it over your breast. His body ran cold at what was on the side of it. A bite mark.

“He branded me all those years ago.” You confessed. “And it has not left since.”

Geta…

You ran your hand up his chest. “I love you, and I trust you with every part of my body. I need you to know that.”

“I love you.” He echoed, pressing the tenderest of kisses to the mark and you gasped lightly. “I have for so long now; I…I need you.”

“Then have me.”

He sat back on his knees, unwrapping his loin cloth and tossing it to the floor. Precum leaked from his sweltering cock as it stood upright like a pillar. You crawled over, kissing every inch of his face and climbing into his lap. He drew his arms around your waist, his finger tracing circles into the small of your back.

“I don’t know how long I will last.” He puffed heavily. “It’s been so long.”

“I just want you inside of me.” You kissed his jaw, taking his cock into your hand and sinking down onto it. It had been a while for you too, and while you were soaked, it was not enough to completely subside the tightness. “Just…wait.”

“I could die happy if all you wanted was for me to remain still as you’re above me.” He said into your ear.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, sinking your nails into his skin because that was the only way to remind you that he was still there. The further you sunk down on him, the easier and more pleasureful you felt.

“I’m going to move now.” You said into his shoulder, and you did.

Slowly, at first you relished in the quiet slapping of skin and the breath moans leaving both you and Lucius’ lips. He trailed a syrupy line of kisses down your throat until he bowed his head to place them upon your chest.

“Your name,” Lucius said into your skin. “tell me your name.”

You gave him a look as you rolled your hips into his, yet sighed your name.

“Again.” He breathed, latching his lips around the tip of your breast.

You did.

“Again.” He kissed the hollow of your throat.

You leaned into his touch, saying your name a third time.

He repeated your given name, than following it with ‘Aurelias’. Your movements stilled, yet he did not care.

“You are the most cunning woman I have met, and you are my wife.” He stated, never looking away from you. Tears sprang to your eyes when you saw the same for him, and you gave him a messy kiss before resuming faster this time.

After months of being called a name that did not belong to you, especially whenever in the bedroom, Lucius was doing everything to remind you that you were yourself again as you felt pleasure.

It felt as if, after two years, ‘Julia’ was finally gone.

You chanted his name as if it was your favorite prayer, burying your hands in his hair and kissing his lips.

“Lucius, Lucius, Lucius…”

Because, just like you, how long had it been since his true name was uttered whilst in the throes of pleasure?

He moaned into your mouth, holding onto you tighter. You squealed when he rose up onto his knees, latching your legs around his waist and only crying out sharply when your throbbing clit ran across his pubic hair.

“Come on, come on,” he urged into your ear. “I know you can give it to me.”

“Lu-Lu-!” You moaned, running your nails over the thick field of muscles that was his back.

He said your name over and over again, until it was one word that was the end of you.

“Please.”

You came with your vision blinded from the state of euphoria you had reached. Lucius still held you above him even as his legs began to quake, bouncing you on his cock. You felt as though you were suspended in air when his groans stammered, and you felt strings of his cum paint the walls of your cunt.

Slowly, he lowered the two of you onto the mattress, laying you on your back like you were the most precious treasure in the world. You kept your legs around his waist, breathing with him with your chests glued together from your sweat.

“Lucius-.” You began, trying to shift under him.

“-Just,” he grunted. “just another moment. Please.”

How could you deny him? Every kiss he gave was loving as he laid upon you. His cock had grown soft, and even you were aware that you could’ve fallen asleep if you weren’t careful.

When he pulled away from you, you let out an involuntary whine.

“I thought you wanted me to get off you?” He kissed your stomach when he stood up.

You shoved him playfully. “Just clean me up and come back.”

“So controlling.”

Still, he did what you asked, bringing a soaked washcloth from the bathroom and cleaning you. You groaned out of both the cold water hitting your hot skin, and the heat from the air itself.

“We should’ve waited until night.” You whined.

“Why?”

“I’m suffocating from the air outside!”

Lucius hummed, tossing the washcloth aside and looming over you. “Then that forces us to wear nothing today, so that we might cool down.”

You nodded. “Perhaps you aren’t as feeble minded as I thought.”

He settled behind you, tossing an arm over your waist and pulling your back to his chest. Even though his cock pressed against you, the two of you were completely exhausted from the heat of the day’s work, and the heat of what took place only moments before.

The only sound was that of the cicadas singing in the summertime. Sometimes, a breeze or two of wind would bounce the curtain off the window, but for the most part, just the even breathing you shared with Lucius was all you could hear.

Lucius’ mustache rubbed your skin when he placed a kiss to your neck. “What’s going on inside of your mind right now?”

You grinned. “A proper wife would say that I was thinking of you.”

“But that’s not what it is.”

“It’s something that has nothing to do with anything of note.”

He squeezed you. “Spit it out, woman.”

Sighing, you felt a sense of dread in your heart; both for your thoughts, and also how your husband would react. So, you tried your best to explain it.

“Do you even wonder how you will be remembered?” You began. “Spoken from mouths? Written in books? Painted on walls? They’ll remember Lucius, the Lost Son, the Last Gladiator…What will they remember of me, if anything? Rome’s Cleopatra? Her Delight? A whore to the twin emperors? I like to fantasize that they will name me the first woman who sat upon the emperor’s throne, even if it was as the last of its consul. Yet, even if they name me…I will be Julia. The name of a slave, the name I only accepted when he would press me into the bed so roughly. I only survived because I would need to tell myself that he was doing all of it to Julia, not to me.”

It felt quieter in that room, even though the sounds outside did not cease. Lucius gently turned your body towards him, and he stroked your face with the back of his hand.

“You’re crying,” he uttered your name, frowning.

You wiped your eyes, wanting to hide from him. Yet, he did not allow it, pulling your hands away from you and wrapping them around his shoulders.

“Would you wish I remain silent, or share with you what is in my head?” He asked.

“Talk to me.” You answered.

“I never cared of what history would see of me.” He stated. “Even as a boy. I know that we are different in most aspects of life, but I believe it serves no one to wonder away how we will be viewed long after we are dead. I do not care if or what a stranger thinks of me in a lifetime later. I care how Atticus and Diana see me. I care what their children think. Above all, I care of what you see me to be.”

You pressed your head against his. “You’re pigheaded and quite foolish sometimes.”

“And it matters you say that.” He pulled you closer. “Because that is what you will tell others when I pass on.”

“You know I don’t think that is all you are.” You remined him.

“I do.” He nodded. “I will know you for your wit, and your protective nature, and your kindness.”

“I never truly thought of myself as kind.” You gave a pained smile.

“That is how I see you.” He kissed your brow. “And what I will say with my last dying breath.”

You wondered how such a man as himself could exist at the same time you did. A man who hated you prior to everything yet laid with you in bed. A man who treated you with a tenderness you never thought possible.

A man who could be the last person on earth with you, and you would only feel at peace.

You did not need to say anything to him. Simply by the innocent smile that spread across your lips, did he know. You fell into the most comfortable of silences together as you laid naked in the summer heat.

The both of you were lost to time as we all shall be one day.

Perhaps you lived on that farm for the rest of your days, or perhaps you moved to a different land.

Perhaps you had ten children, perhaps you had only one, or perhaps you had none and were content with each other’s company.

Perhaps you died before him, perhaps he died before you, or perhaps you both passed onto the Elysian fields together.

All that truly matters, at the end of all things, is the life the two of you led together, and what you and loved ones remembered the most of it.

[shadowbriar]

George Weasley - What Matters

Pairing : George Weasley x (she/her) Reader Word Count : 0.8k Warning : Takes place on the night after the Seven Potters event. Not proofread I'm too tired. Synopsis : Soothing conversation after what seems to be the greatest nightmare the couple had to live through. Notes : Part of Shadowbriar's 2024 Valentines Project. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

"Have you ever imagined a world where we’re not together?”

George frowns, lifting from the bed to lay on his side, his arm supporting his head. He watches her closely, seeing the glimmer of uncertainty in her eyes. Supposed the nightmare of him arriving at the Burrow with blood soaking his shirt earlier was still etched in her mind. 

The plan was a success, should one argue. Their objective was met. Harry is now safe and sound, sleeping in Ron’s room like a baby. Though some sacrifices needed to be made, loss to mourn and cry for, at least knowing that what they fought for was achieved would be the softer side of the bed they’ll sleep on tonight.

“No, never.” He says firmly, trying to provide some comfort for her “Why would I ever think that?”

She shrugs, “Reasons.”

Gently, George reaches for her hand and places it to his chest. He hopes that it could ease her wary mind a little. He wanted her to feel his heart beat, to feel his heat, to feel him. He knows that it would take more than sweet words and tender embraces tonight to get them through the night, to get them just a blink of sleep no matter how sore and aching their bodies are, but he has no idea how else he could comfort her when he too was still a little shaken from the event that occurred.

“I’m sorry,” She whispers, her voice shaky as she tries her best not to let the tears fall “I should be the one comforting you, but I just—”

“Shh, it’s alright, Darling,” George says as he pulls her close “It’s okay. I’m right here.”

“I could have lost you.”

“But you didn’t,” He reassures, patting her head gently “You’ll never lose me.”

“But I almost did, George. I almost lost you.”

“Love,” George pulls away a little, staring deep into her eyes with that boyish smile “It would take much more than Voldy’s gothic underling to keep us apart, trust me.”

She forces a smile, one that didn’t truly reach her eyes. Her stare was still vacant, like she’s trying to comprehend her surroundings and finding firm stepping after the rug beneath her feet was pulled. There has been no greater horror, no bigger fear and terror than the one she felt a couple hours ago.

“I can’t lose you,” She says to him “I just can’t.”

“I know. I can’t lose you, either.” He says gently, caressing her cheek “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

“What’s left of you, you mean.”

George raised an eyebrow, “Meaning?”

“You lack an ear,” She tries to jest, smiling slightly bigger though her eyes still welled of tears “Can’t decide if it makes you lose a couple points in the appearance department or if it enhances it.”

“The latter, of course. You have one hell of an unkillable boyfriend,” He says proudly, grinning “Reckon muggles write it on their papers? A bloody ear fell from the sky. Imagine the horror!”

Her laughter finally breaks. Though it didn’t last as long as George wished it would, the lingering smile on her lips was enough to tell him that the storm is slowly passing. Gently, he leans in and kisses her. How the night went by was certainly unideal but now that she’s here, laying on his bed, everything feels alright. Like the pain on his ear was reduced into a slight itch and the soreness of his body was caused by nothing but a typical quidditch practice.

The sigh she let go as they parted lifted tons of her burden. The corners of her lips were still curled, satisfied with the solace they could both find in each other though chaos still unravels around them. It was modest and unadorned, but much more than enough to soothe both of their scarred minds.

“I love you,” She says softly “I don’t want to ever imagine a world without you.”

“Then don’t,” George answers “Don’t imagine it, don’t think about it, don’t worry about it because it would never happen. It’s us or nothing, remember? That’s all that matters.”

She chuckles, “That’s a bit extreme now, init? Us or nothing?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have anyone other than you,” He argues, raising an eyebrow “Do you have anyone you’d have other than me?”

“There’s a short list of possible names.” She jokes once again “You’re in my top three at the moment, honestly.”

“I hate you.”

“Okay, top five now from that comment.”

George let out a satisfied laughter, pulling her head close to his chest that she could feel the echo of his chuckle and the steady beating of his heart. Her arms now encircle his waist. There seems to be too much space between them tonight though their bodies were cramped together on such a tiny bed. No close is close enough for the two right now.

“I hope you know I didn’t mean that.” She whispers to his shirt “There could be no one but you.”

“I know,” George says, planting a kiss to the crown of her head “I know, Sweetheart, I know.”

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

I have literally read all you stories and im so so impressed. Im not sure if your taking requests or if. If not than im very sorry. If yes then could you please write one where a modern doctor ends up being reborn as a Nobel princess who is about to marry king baldwin. She could then cure him.

♧ A Better Life - King Baldwin x Reader ♧

♧ Angst ♧

A/N: HELLO FRIENDS!!! I am back officially now!! Exams are over and the school year is done! I am so exited to be back!! Anon thank you so much for this beautiful request. This took me so long and I really hope you like it!!! This was an amazing one to return with, I hope yall enjoy it!!. As always this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

TW: Leprosy, Slight mention of blood

Y/n remembered little to nothing from that night.

Simply getting into her car late, well after the sun had set, and driving. Then the lights. Then the crash. Everything else was fuzzy. Even in her life before the crash, the only knowledge she seemed to remember was what she had learnt in medical school all those years ago.

Nothing about her beautiful rooftop apartment where she lived alone. And certainly not the crippling loneliness she dreaded returning to every night after work at the hospital.

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

Y/n’s eyes flew open and she sat up with a gasp, clutching at her pounding heart. After a few seconds of panic, she looked up at her surroundings.

There was no car, no wreckage, no blood.

Just a plush, white sheeted, four poster bed that held her trembling form. The curtains that hung around the top of the bed shrouded her view of the rest of the room, but from what she could see, an open balcony window allowed sun to shine through and into the large, beautifully decorated stone room.

Confusion soon replaced fear in the young doctor's mind. Was she in a hospital? No, it wasn't sterile enough to be a hospital. There was no beeping of machines, no bustling nurses. Something she was all too familiar with.

She tried to think back to what had happened, but all she could remember was the crash. Nothing else. Y/n pulled back the covers and cautiously stepped out of the bed. She barely got one foot on the ground before the large, wooden doors opened to reveal young woman carrying a tray with an assortment of dishes that y/n had never seen in her life.

“Good morning my lady” the young woman said with a smile, approaching y/n’s bedside.

“Good morning,” the doctor replied, trying to hide the confusion in her voice.

“I hope you are excited for today my lady, everybody in the maids chamber surely is!” the young woman said, her bright eyes practically glowing.

“I'm- excited for what?” y/n replied cautiously.

“Well your wedding of course, everybody has been anticipating this day for months now! Our kingdom will finally have a queen!” she was grinning now, y/n couldn't help but smile despite her confusion.

“Oh- yes! How could I have forgotten” the doctor said, once again attempting to hide the fact she had no idea where she was.

After the maid had left, y/n inspected the food. It looked delicious but eating was the last thing on her mind, for now. She slipped out of the bed to take a look around the room. There were books stacked on a shelf, a desk, a face washing basin and lots and lots of religious imagery, painted in typical pre-renaissance fashion.

Judging by the beautiful stone walls, she was most definitely not in the twenty-first century anymore. Nothing was boring and white. No white walls, no white marble countertops. Everything was handmade. Genuine. It was certainly a changeup from the old routine.

You see, y/n was intelligent. She always had been and on top of this, her years as a surgeon had taught her to act reasonable, calm, and logical even in the most outlandish situations.

Waking up in a different time period after a car wreck was no different.

She had to think of a plan.

“It's morning, people should be expecting me somewhere soon”. Turning to the bookshelf, y/n picked up a book and opened it. Handwritten. In Hebrew.

“That should place me somewhere in Israel, perhaps Jerusalem” she thought.

“And it's definitely before the renaissance, but after the birth of Christ”.

Placing the book back on the shelf, y/n continued to think. She had to figure out where she was and fast.

Y/n turned her attention to the other side of the room. The bed, a couch, and the open balcony doors. Approaching the balcony, y/n looked outside inspecting the area around the building she was in.

Knights. Many knights.

“Medieval “ was the first word that came to mind.

“That should place me somewhere around the 12th century-” was the last thing her mind concluded before the wooden doors opened again.

Six maids came into the room, each carrying something different. Some carried jewelry, some hairbrushes and combs, and others beautiful white fabric that appeared to be some kind of dress.

“Oh my lady, you have barely touched your breakfast!” one of them exclaimed as y/n entered the room from the balcony.

“You will need your strength for today!”

“Oh I'm terribly sorry, I forgot all about it! I was just getting some fresh air, I'm a little nervous” y/n said as calmly as she could, praying that they didn't notice something was off.

“That's alright dear” the oldest of the maids said, “it doesn't matter now because we need to get you dressed! Come, sit” she gestured to a vanity mirror and chair that y/n hadn't even noticed. 

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

It felt like hours that the doctor sat in that chair, as the maids worked tirelessly on her hair and face. Braiding and brushing, applying makeup and finally helping her into the beautiful white dress robes.

They fit perfectly, just like a glove. As if they were made for just her and her alone.

“You look immaculate, your majesty,” one of the maids said, taking a step back to admire their future queen. Y/n smiled, for a moment forgetting her predicament.

It felt as though she had lived in this world her entire life.

“Come now darling, we don't want to keep the guests waiting!” the oldest maid said, taking the doctor's hand and leading her towards the door. Y/n followed blindly.

“This should be interesting,” she muttered.

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

It was a short walk from her chambers to the church. There were already plenty of people waiting inside. Y/n barely had any time to think before a bouquet of flowers were shoved into her hands and she was walking down the aisle, people standing left and right staring at her.

Taking a deep breath, y/n steadied her hands and continued walking at a slow, measured pace.

“Come on y/n, this has to be the least nerve racking thing you've done all week”.

Looking up, she could see her “future husband” standing at the end of the aisle. It was strange, she couldn't see his face, he was wearing white robes and a veil that shrouded his features almost entirely. But from what she could see, it appeared he was wearing some kind of mask.

Then it all connected.

Not only had y/n taken a myriad of science and math subjects in highschool, she had also taken an ancient history class. One unit had specifically focused on the “Leper King of Jerusalem, Baldwin IV”. This must have been him.

As she approached the end of the aisle, her mind wandered to a patient she had treated with severe leprosy, contracted while he was on a tropical holiday. She remembered how much pain he had been in and her heart broke thinking about this poor king who had gone untreated for so long.

She was only snapped out of her thoughts when she came face to face with her soon to be husband. His eyes met hers and what she thought would have been a neutral feeling (since she did not yet know this man at all) turned quickly to a feeling that she had not experienced in what felt like years.

Love.

The doctor's heart skipped a beat looking into those eyes. Those beautiful, blue eyes. The mask he wore was polished to perfection, the metal was perfectly shaped into sculpted, masculine features.

He was beautiful.

Y/n was far too focused on just how captivating the man who stood before her was to pay any attention to whatever the priest was saying, until once again she was snapped out of thought by the large crowd cheering as they were pronounced husband and wife, in the name of the Lord.

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

Later on, the guests had left and all had returned to somewhat calm after a day of celebration. Y/n was slightly shy at first during the celebrations, doing everything in her power to read the room and understand her place in this new world. But after a while, she began to enjoy herself.

Her “husband” had barely spoken a word all day, but she had caught him looking at her as she talked with his sister and associates. She was told by a few maids that after getting changed from her wedding attire, she would go and meet privately with her new husband.

She was nervous, but not even half as nervous as somebody else was...

Baldwin paced up and down his chambers until his legs were in agony. The day had been strenuous on his body and the pacing did not help.

The young king slumped down on his couch, cursing his frail body. He had watched her all day, his wonderful y/n. So full of life, so intelegent, speaking with everyone and enjoying her time while all he could do was sit and watch.

Oh how he had wished to join her, to dance with her, to speak with her, to hear every word her beautiful voice had to say, to look into her eyes. Those perfect eyes.

He hoped that she knew just how much he had fallen for her, even though they had not spoken a single word all day.

He cursed the mask that shrouded his emotions, forcing him to look cold and stern when all he wanted was her to know how warmly and deeply he felt for her. Baldwin sunk deeper into the couch cushions. His body craved sleep, craved a break from the pain. But he couldn't. He had to see her right this instant.

Taking a deep breath, or as deep as his failing lungs could take, the young king sat up and stared down into his hands, anticipating the moment y/n knocked on his door.

He did not have to wait long because no more than a minute after he sat up, a small knock came from the wooden door. Baldwin got to his feet, perhaps too fast. He steadied himself and called for her to enter. Y/n pushed open the door. She looked as beautiful as she did in her wedding dress.

“Good evening your majesty” she said with a graceful curtsey.

“Hello” he replied, suddenly feeling incredibly shy.

Y/n smiled. He was truly adorable. He looked so soft and warm in those robes. Good lord what was she thinking? She had barely met this man and yet she was acting like a teenager in love!

“Would you like to take a seat?” he offered, his voice gentle and kind. “Of course,” she replied. The two sat in silence for a moment. But it was not an awkward silence, more of a comfortable silence as the young couple took each other in.

It wasn't long before they got to talking. Two intelligent, young minds in the same room were bound to connect almost instantly. And that's just what they did.

Y/n tried to not say anything about her “world of the future”. That was until they were brought to the topic of his disease.

“So, you have no issue in being wed to a leper?” Baldwin had asked, his voice growing sad. Her heart broke for him in an instant, remembering how terribly people with his disease were treated at this time.

“Of course I don't” the doctor replied.

Her kind voice soothed something deep inside Baldwin. Something untouched for so many years. His eyes burned with tears but he dare not  let one fall.

“Really?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly.

“Of course! All I see is a beautiful, young man with a bright future. And from what I've heard, you're a wonderful ruler, and I know you will be a wonderful husband too”.

Baldwin smiled beneath the mask. He hoped she could see the smile through his eyes. Y/n took a deep breath before her next choice of words.

“You know, where I come from, lepers can be healed,” she said softly. Baldwin’s eyes widened.

“Truely?” he said in disbelief.

“Yes, but you can not tell anyone”

“I won't, of course! Please, share this with me” the young king said in a hushed voice taking her hands in his.

“Alright. I'm going to need a few things to do it and it may take a while-”

“Please, y/n. I'll do anything” Baldwin was on the verge of tears now. “Now I have you, I have a reason to live. I need to live, please” he begged.

Y/n’s heart sank as his previously strong demeanor shattered into a thousand pieces before her very eyes. As gently as she could, y/n wrapped her arms around her husband, pulling him into a gentle yet firm hug.

At that moment, the young doctor understood why all of this had happened. She was brought here for a reason. To cure this poor young man, to show him the love he deserves and to have a better life by his side.

“I promise Baldwin, I’ll make you well again. No matter what it takes. I'll do it”

[agathasbaby]

Her Sweet Thing.

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Word count: 1,042

Summary: The constant stress of trying to understand how Wanda revived Vision with her magic was exhausting. Thankfully, her sweet girlfriend was there to lift her spirits.

Warnings: MDNI, lots of fluff, mentions of mommy kink, soft Agatha. Mommy!Agatha(?)

A/N: This is my first fic. I’m sorry if my writing is bad :’) No smut in this one but if y’all want me to write some, I’ll try!

Being trapped in this "hex," as some call it, is not enjoyable. You've been watching your girlfriend become increasingly obsessed with figuring out how Wanda brought her soulmate back to life—essentially, how she revived him. Many years ago, Agatha lost her son. She may have wielded the Darkhold, but nothing compared to her love for Nicky. After a long day of pretending, she finally pulled into the driveway. Agnes, Agatha's character, was the nosy neighbor, always smiling and socializing, constantly talking. It was all a ruse to extract information from Wanda. Tonight was filled with pure frustration, with the moonlight barely illuminating the living room and casting a gentle glow on your sleeping face.

Agatha just arrived home—not her real home, but what the two of you considered home within this false reality. It was nearing midnight, and you had fallen asleep waiting for her, knowing you weren’t allowed to leave the house without Agatha. She didn’t want Wanda anywhere near you. You had no idea just how dangerous Wanda’s powers truly were, and if Wanda figured out that you weren’t under her mind games, who knew what might happen?

As Agatha kicked off her shoes, she hung up the 1980s-style jacket she had been wearing all day. Although it wasn’t to her liking, you always thought the style looked adorable on her. It made her appear soft, the soft Agatha that only you were allowed to see.

The silence was palpable. Should she be concerned? You were usually making some kind of noise, no matter what time of day it was. Your favorite pastime was baking, a way for you to express your love for your girlfriend. You often baked sweets that you knew she might not want to eat, yet she indulged in them anyway just to see you smile. As she slowly approached the couch, she noticed you curled up beneath a purple blanket tucked tightly around you. It was the same color that Agatha had always loved. She could never get over how much you wore that color, or any shade of purple for that matter. It was another reminder that you truly belonged to her.

A quiet sigh escaped your delicate lips. You definitely didn’t want to wake up yet, especially not in the middle of the night. Agatha simply smiled, her hand trailing down your arm. "Hey, little love, I’ve missed you," she whispered. You just hummed in response, too sleepy to say anything more.

After some coaxing, you finally agreed to go to bed. In the dark bedroom, Agatha turned on a lamp that cast a soft glow. You quickly crawled under the covers, and she chuckled at how insistent you were about staying warm. Agatha quietly changed into her pajamas and then curled up beside you. Snuggling into her side, you mumbled something with your voice muffled, "I love you, Mommy." A pure smile spread across Agatha’s face; you could be so adorable sometimes. "Aww, I love you too, my sweet girl," she replied, giving you a gentle kiss on the cheek.

Despite the time of day, you were happy to engage in a conversation with Agatha. "How was your day?" your voice was a quiet murmur. She let out a frustrated sigh, reluctant to discuss her issues with Wanda. You were just too sweet to understand her struggles. Agatha didn’t want you to see what she considered her dark side. Someone finally loved her for who she was, and she feared that if you saw that side of her, you wouldn’t love her anymore.

"It was fine. Tell you what, we’ll make pancakes tomorrow morning. Sound good?" Agatha quickly redirected the conversation, thinking that if she could distract you, you wouldn’t ask any questions about Wanda or the hex. All you really knew was that Agatha had a 'mission'—as she called it—and only brought you along because she didn’t want to be away from you for too long. Time was distorted in the hex, and she never really knew what time it was in the outside world. "Ooo, do we have strawberries?" you asked. She smiled and nodded. You loved strawberries; baking strawberry shortcakes was always a favorite of yours, and while Agatha didn’t mind them much, she wasn’t really a fan of sweets.

Soon, slumber had taken over the two of you. The sun rose, shining brightly through the curtains. This was your least favorite part of the day, burying your face in Agatha’s chest, trying to ignore how the world came alive just as quickly as everyone else went to sleep. Your favorite part of the morning was when Agatha would gently wake her up with pecks to the lips. The most sweetest kisses ever. With a chuckle, you softly said, "Good morning, Aggie," using that adorable nickname only you could call her. "Morning, my love," Agatha replied, her voice husky with sleep as she squeezed your hip affectionately. She stood up to get dressed for the day, and you pouted, wishing for just a few more cuddles.

The kitchen was tidy as you gathered the necessary ingredients for pancakes. With everything set up, Agatha joined you to make them from scratch. She playfully dipped her finger into the batter and swiped it on your nose, smiling brightly. "Oops," she chuckled innocently. Rolling your eyes in mock annoyance, you gently attacked her, cupping her jaw with one hand while using the other to spread a bit of batter across her nose. "Payback!" you squealed happily. A smile spread across her cheeks, and for a moment, you could see past her usual disdain for the world. Despite her struggles, you managed to fill her heart with a warmth she never thought she’d find in such a cruel world.

Breakfast was filled with warmth and sweet kisses. The occasional small talk about the day's plans made you feel a bit sad that you couldn't spend the entire day with your girlfriend. Agatha quickly fell back into her character, the persona she had created to deceive Wanda in hopes of learning the Scarlet Witch’s secrets: magic, spells, and anything that brought the Vision back to life. Maybe, just maybe, she could even bring her baby Nicky back to meet you, her baby girl—her girlfriend.

[captainsophiestark]

I Made You Breakfast

Kai Parker x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

Summary: Kai's on his apology tour, and Y/N is his next stop after things didn't go too well with Damon or Bonnie

Word Count: 2,000

Category: Fluff, Humor, a little bit of Angst

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I sighed to myself as I headed downstairs in my favorite pair of sweats, mentally making a list of everything I had to do today. It was an unfortunately long list, compounded by the latest supernatural drama, which my friends insisted on dragging me into. Bonnie had finally made it home from the prison world, thankfully, but that didn't mean any of the drama in our lives had gone away. In fact, it had almost doubled, with news of Damon's mother floating around in another prison world somewhere. I got halfway through an eyeroll at the memory of everything going on lately when I stopped dead in my tracks.

I could smell bacon, eggs, and toast wafting up towards me from the kitchen. Someone was here, in my house, cooking breakfast. And with everything going on lately, I knew for a fact it wasn't one of my friends.

I glanced around, grabbing a stake off the nearest end table. No vampire should have been able to get into my house unless they were a friend I'd already let in, but I'd had enough near-death experiences despite that fact that I was constantly prepared.

I crept towards the kitchen, trying to listen for any signs of trap or trouble. All I could hear was a faint clinking of plates. If someone had seriously broken into my house, why the hell were they just hanging out in my kitchen making breakfast?

I got my answer a second later when I burst through the door, going for the element of surprise, and found none other than Kai Parker standing before me.

"Oh, hey!" he said, jumping and spinning to face me with wide eyes. "You're up!"

"...Yup. And... you're here. In my kitchen. Making breakfast."

"Yeah! I hope you like it. Here, let me get your plate. I thought I'd have a few more minutes."

With that, he turned to the stove and starting scooping scrambled eggs and toast onto a plate. I just watched him, not moving an inch.

"Kai?"

"Yeah?"

"What the hell are you doing in my house?"

He turned back around to look at me again, his eyes wide and the plate half-finished in his hand. After a moment, his expression morphed into a sheepish grin. I just blinked at him, my expression unchanging.

"Well, after I merged with Luke, I started getting all these... feelings." He said the word like somebody else might say 'zits' or 'rash'. "And one of those has been guilt, for some of the stuff I put you through. Or I guess, your friends, mostly. I tried apologizing to Bonnie earlier, and... it didn't go well."

His expression darkened, and I frowned. But a moment later, the clouds apparently cleared, and Kai fixed me with a beaming smile again.

"So I thought I'd try again with you. In the Prison World, I saw Damon making Bonnie breakfast all the time, and she seemed to really like that. So I figured you might, too."

I just stared at him for a few long moments without saying anything. I turned my options over and over in my mind, trying to get my still half-asleep brain to make a rational choice. I probably should've been incredibly freaked out that Kai was here at all, but I'd actually had a few positive interactions with him even before the whole merge thing, and had kind of started to like him. Or, at least, started to think he had some ally potential, despite other things he did. We'd even bonded over music taste and his new fascination with social media, and he'd tried to help Sheriff Forbes, although it hadn't necessarily been out of the goodness of his heart. For some reason, I just couldn't muster the fear or anger I probably should've been feeling when I looked at him in my house. Finally, I sighed, my mind made up. No reason to try to force bad feelings when they wouldn't come on their own, right?

"Thanks, Kai," I said, actually meaning it as I moved over to the dining table. "Aside from the fact that you broke into my house to do it... that's actually pretty sweet."

He beamed at me, and I found myself returning his smile. He turned back around to finish making my plate, and I shook my head. This was absolutely ridiculous, but I couldn't say I minded very much.

"Here you go!" he said, setting the plate down in front of me with a big smile. He didn't move away, just standing off to the side and watching me expectantly. I picked up my fork, but didn't take my eyes off Kai.

"...Aren't you gonna join me?"

"Oh! Right. You know, I've been practicing how I was going to do this in my head all morning, and now that I'm actually doing it it's like I completely forgot everything I was planning to do. That's weird, right?"

I shrugged. "I mean, sounds like a normal part of being nervous to me."

He nodded emphatically as he returned to the table and sat across from me with a breakfast plate of his own.

"All these new... emotions from Luke have been, like, super weird. I don't know how you all deal with these all the time."

"Eh, yeah, they can be annoying sometimes. It gets easier with practice though, and I'd say on the whole they're a positive experience."

Kai nodded thoughtfully, taking a bite of his eggs as his gaze wandered around my kitchen. I took a few bites of my own food, and I had to admit, he was a surprisingly good cook.

"So..." I started. "Was this it for the apology? It's a great breakfast, but usually an apology has a little more attached..."

"Oh!" Kai's attention snapped back to me. "No no, this isn't it. I was planning to do the other part of the apology while we ate breakfast."

"Makes sense. Go for it."

He cleared his throat and shifted around in his seat, then met my eyes before hesitating again. I tried to look encouraging as I ate my eggs, and after a moment, he nodded to himself and continued.

"I'm sorry for trying to kill your friend, and testing out my power on her. And that I couldn't save your other friend's mom, even though I really couldn't do anything about that. I still... I still feel bad. And honestly, I'm mostly sorry for everything I've done that hurt you, even if it was indirectly. I... I actually really like you, and so, uh... I don't want you to hate me. I keep getting this stabbing pain in my chest when I think about it... or when I think about that time I saw you crying over Bonnie..."

He trailed off, staring at the table instead of me, apparently lost in thought. After a moment though, he shook his head and cleared his throat, looking back up to meet my stare again. His blue eyes were wider than usual, his eyebrows pulling together, and he looked to be in actual distress for maybe the first time I'd ever seen, at least when his life wasn't being threatened.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I promise not to do anything to hurt you again. Will you give me a second chance?"

The corner of my mouth quirked up in a smile, especially at the rare senserity in his tone. I knew my friends would have quite a few things to say about this decision, but I didn't let myself think about that. At least not right now.

I sighed. "Kai, despite the fact that you broke into my house, I'm going to believe you about this whole 'turning over new leaf' thing. I... I'd be lying if I said I didn't like you too. So, if you really mean what you're saying about not hurting me or the people I care about anymore?"

He nodded so fast I was actually a little worried about him.

"Completely serious. Cross my heart and hope to die. I'm ready to join the Mystic Falls Scooby Doo team for good."

I smiled, laughing a little and shaking my head.

"Well, okay then. I can't promise anybody else on the team will be quite as easy to convince as me, but... I forgive you, Kai. I'm happy to see you like this. And, by the way, you make some very good eggs and toast."

"Thanks. I had to get good at cooking, you know, alone in the Prison World." A shadow passed over his face again, until I reached across the table and lightly rested my hand on top of his. Then, his face lit up like the sun. "And thanks for giving me a second chance. I promise, you won't regret it."

I wasn't totally sure I believed that, but I decided not to say so. Instead, I smiled and gave his hand a little squeeze before pulling back.

After a moment of silence where I could see Kai vibrating with the desire to say whatever he was holding back, he finally blurted out the other thing he'd apparently been planning to ask me this morning.

"So... I might be a little rusty about how all this works, or if it's changed since the eighties, but... would you want to go out with me sometime? Like on a date?"

I smiled, then buried my face in my hands. My friends would kill me if I said yes to this, but despite myself, I really, really wanted to.

"What's wrong?" Kai asked. I shook my head and looked up at him again.

"Nothing, Kai, I just... ugh, my friends are really not going to like this."

He smiled. "Does that mean you're saying yes?"

I took a deep breath and let it out, then shrugged and matched his smile with one of my own.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think it does. What the hell, right?"

"That's great! I was thinking we could go do karaoke? I've always loved karaoke. I got good at it when I was passing time in the Prison World."

"I have to warn you, I am very much not good at karaoke. But I'll still sing my heart out with you anyway, if you want to go!"

"Perfect! We can go tonight." I laughed, and Kai's expression immediately dropped. "Is that okay? Do you not want to go tonight?"

"No, Kai, I do. It's a little fast, honestly, but I don't mind. Why wait?"

"That's exactly what I was thinking. So... should I pick you up? Around seven? We could get dinner first, and then go."

"I think that sounds like a great plan, Kai," I smiled at him, which he immediately returned. A moment later, though, his hand shot up to clutch at his chest.

"Ugh, what is... what is happening to me? Why does my heart feel like it's about to explode?"

"That's probably excitement, Kai, or butterflies, which are like positive nerves. I'm feeling them too. It's because we're looking forward to going out together tonight."

Kai made a face. "This is what people were talking about when they said they got butterflies? This is terrible." I hid a laugh behind my hand, and Kai's eyes snapped up to mine. "Wait. You said you were feeling it too?"

I nodded, and Kai's expression immediately changed to a wide grin.

"So you're excited, too?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am."

He nodded, the smile staying on his face as he dug in to his eggs again, glancing at me between almost every bite. I just shook my head, a smile on my own face all the same. This was going to be an adventure, going on a date with Kai Parker, and I knew my friends were going to want to murder me for it. But I couldn't totally bring myself to care.

Despite some pretty rocky history, I had a weirdly good feeling about Kai, from the moment he'd started his apology speech this morning. And so far, I'd never been wrong when I trusted my gut for stuff like this, even when it led me into karaoke. I had a good feeling it was going to be right about Kai Parker, too.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

TVD/TO Taglist: @elenavampire21

[yourstru1y4ever]

Day 17 - "I'm not leaving you."

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader Word Count: 1431 Content: Some more of Gojo and Reader taking care of Tsumiki and Megumi! A little hurt/comfort but nothing too too serious, more comfort and hurt I should really say. Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist <- check out the other fics posted this month!

A/N: Someone better stop me from writing more than 1k during these challenges. I keep yapping too much!! Also if y’all didn’t read my day 12 prompt, I have food allergies (one of them being dairy) and I have literally no clue what ice cream is the best choice. Roast me in the comments if you think Gojo would like a different flavor. . . I literally wouldn’t know since I’ve never had any of these flavors before.

You didn’t notice anything particularly different about today. Maybe it’s the August heat? You start to walk over to the nearest convenience store to grab ice cream for the kids when you get back to Gojo’s apartment.

You visit Megumi and Tsumiki a couple of days throughout the week whenever you weren’t sent off on missions and you make sure to be there for the kids if Gojo was on a mission for longer than a day. Although it’s been almost two weeks since you’ve seen them all last due to an overseas mission you had with Yuki.

Before you left for the trip you and Gojo got into an argument and you never really had the chance to resolve the issue. He always had something to do when you called the apartment, never speaking to you and using either Megumi or Tsumiki to communicate to you.

It was childish in hindsight but the longer you both waited to talk about the elephant in the room, the worse it’ll get.

You sigh, bringing a hand up to your head to quiet any fears you might be having. The ice cream is for the kids, first and foremost, but it’ll also be a peace offering to Gojo.

Once you’re in a store you walk over to the frozen sections and grab two different pints for the kids, French Vanilla for Megumi and Mocha for Tsumiki. Looking at the sea of different ice cream flavors, you feel a little overwhelmed, unsure of what flavor Gojo would even like. You check your phone, see the time, realizing you should be back at the apartment by now, you make a split second decision and grab a quart of Sweet Cream ice cream.

You run over to the apartment, greet the door man and get onto the elevator to get to the penthouse level. In the elevator you try and catch your breath, but before you know it the doors slide open to reveal a quiet apartment for once.

“Hello?” Your voice rings out as you step inside. The lights were off and you assume that everyone’s just in their rooms. . . hopefully. You take off your shoes and turn on the living room lights.

Walking over to the kitchen you find Tsumiki standing on her step stool, looking down at a pot of leftover pot roast you made for them before you left for the mission. You also notice that the rice cooker is almost finished. As soon as it beeps, Tsumiki comes out of her trance-like state and finally notices you.

“You’re finally home!” She sets down the spoon and step stool and runs up to you.

You open your arms out to her and give her a big bear hug, “Where’s your brother?” You ask and she shakes her head.

“In his room, sulking.” She rolls her eyes, pulling away from you. “Gojo kept telling us you weren’t coming home.” She adds, avoiding your gaze.

“Why would he-?” Was it because of your argument? Did he think you would leave for good?

“You’re home?” A voice quietly asks. You turn and see Megumi looking at you with a shocked expression on your face, like he never expected to see you again.

“Of course, I brought your favorite ice cream for you both to have after dinner.” You tell them, as you fluff up Megumi’s hair. He gives you an annoyed look, but it doesn’t last long.

“Let me finish dinner for you Tsumiki, you both can go set the table,” You nod towards the table as you put the ice cream in the freezer. You look at the stovetop and give a quick taste to the reheated pot roast. It was almost perfect, just needed something fresh to give it some levity.

You peek inside the fridge, feeling the kids behind you grabbing some silverware and some bowls. And of course there’s nothing left in the fridge, you think and make a mental note to go grocery shopping with Tsumiki on the weekend. You look in the pantry and it’s almost just as empty but you see that there’s a little bit of red wine vinegar left. You take it and add it to the pot roast, and when you taste it there is the perfect amount of acidity to brighten up the dish.

“Okay it’s all set!” You announce and the kids bring their bowls over to you. You give them both a good portion of pot roast and then they get some rice to go with it. You grab your own portion of the food and join them at the table, listening to Tsumiki tell you about what you’ve missed.

Soon you all finish your dinner and Tsumiki and Megumi clean up their dishes. Gojo still hasn’t come home yet; Megumi mentioned during dinner that Gojo went to Jujutsu High for a meeting, but never said when he would return home. 

You give them each a small scoop of their ice cream; Tsumiki’s eyes sparkle with joy while Megumi gives you a small smile in thanks. You also give yourself a small scoop of Gojo’s ice cream but you can’t bring yourself to finish it. Before you know it, they finish their dessert and it’s late enough for them to go to bed.

“I’ll be sure to give you your souvenirs tomorrow.”

“You’ll be here in the morning?” “You got us souvenirs?” They overlap. “Yes to both of your questions,” You give them each a hug goodnight, sealing the promise, “I’ll be here in the morning, don’t worry.”

Once you get them in bed you head back over to the kitchen, the ice cream you had for Gojo now melted. As you grab your phone to call him Gojo steps into the kitchen, meeting your gaze.

“You’re. . .”

“Home.” You finish.

He nods and looks away from you. 

“The mission took a lot longer cuz Yuki kept taking me to different tourist spots in America. We took care of a couple of curses over there. I got some souvenirs to give to you guys.”

He doesn’t even acknowledge you as he walks past you, not listening to your story.

“Talk to me!” He stops but doesn’t turn back to you.

“I don’t know why you’re pushing me away but I didn’t want to fight with you about Megumi’s training. It’s just- He’s still just a kid.” You tell him, “But I know he needs to learn about his technique and understand jujutsu sorcery. I’m sorry for arguing with you about it.”

Satoru turns back to you, “I’m just as terrified as you, you know! I want to teach him properly, not have him become someone like-” He stops himself, looking down at the ground.

Oh.

Oh.

It was the anniversary of Geto. . .

“You seemed really upset when you left and I was worried. . . I don’t know, but I need you to know that I’m just as worried about Megumi too.”

You give Satoru a hug and he clings onto you, bringing his head into the crook of your neck. 

“I’m not leaving you,” You whisper to him.

“Do you promise?” He mumbles.

“I promise,” You reassure, “Especially not after that argument. We shouldn’t have argued about it in the first place.”

“That what I was trying to tell you back then,”

“Bullshit Satoru.” You can feel him smile against your neck and you hug him a little tighter.

He moves his head from your neck and puts his forehead against yours, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, you big dummy,”

“Wow, okay.” He laughs, pulling away from you.

“What! Don’t tell me I wounded your pride by calling you a dummy.”

“Like that would hurt my pride.” He rolls his eyes, and sees the melted ice cream in the bowl. “What’s-?”

“Oh, I bought you Sweet Cream ice cream as a peace offering,” You tell him, “I might have had a small scoop after dinner though.”

“I know how you could make it up to me,”

“And what’s that?”

“Giving me some of your sweet cream~”

“Satoru-!” He kisses you and you want to push him away but he’s got you trapped between the kitchen counter.

He pulls away from you and you cover your mouth, trying (and failing) to cover your blushing face.

“You got the best kind,” He whines.

“I- I didn’t eat it all y’know.” 

“I know, I just think you’re so cute when I make you blush.” He gives you another quick kiss before moving to the freezer to eat the ice cream right out of the container.

[hoshiseon-digiarc]

desire ♱ 001

♰ pairings :: ot8 vampire!ateez x fem!witch!reader

♰ genre :: dark fantasy, smut, strangers to ?? to lovers, fluff, maybe slight angst?, soulmates/fated lovers

♰ gen. content :: polyamory , references to religious themes, witchcraft and magick, mythical beings of all kinds, mentions of other idols, vampires with magical abilities, switches povs

♰ chapter warnings :: fear/anxiety, description of injury

♰ word count :: 8.1k 0_0

♰ note :: this took me entirely too long but hey! first chapter woohoo!! this will be my first time ever writing a series but i'm very excited :] pls give me feedback i'd love to hear your thoughts! and if i missed any warnings lmk!!

♰ main m.list | series m.list | next ♰

i've been walking for quite some time, i realize probably much later than i should. the sun had started setting long ago and now the forest was almost too dark to really see anything. but i need this mushroom. if this ointment isn't finished by tomorrow the merchants will never buy it and then how will i feed myself for the next week or so- 

snap!

i feel my heart thump against my rib cage as my head whips up at the distinct sound of a twig snapping. i focus my gaze on where the sound came from and watch as a squirrel scuttles up the trunk of a large tree. i feel the tension in my body release a little. great, now i'm being paranoid. if i hadn't gotten so absorbed in that book then maybe i wouldn't have to be out here past dark searching for a damn plant. as i grumble to myself internally, i become less and less aware of my steps which is never good for someone who trips over thin air more than is probably considered normal. and in that moment, the universe seems to prove that point by way of me tripping over a large rock and falling flat on my stomach. i groan as pain shoots through my already bruised knees (from tripping prior to this). brushing off dirt and leaves i stand back up and huff. i accept defeat and turn to hopefully find my way back to my cabin. only to realize, i have no idea where i am. have i seriously wandered so far? i do a 360 and cannot recognize any of the trees surrounding me. anxiety starts to settle in my gut as i come to the conclusion i am very lost. you'd think living in the woods would teach me enough lessons about roaming said woods in the dark...but apparently not. even still, standing here will get me nowhere so i turn back the way (i think) i came from and start to make the journey back. i pray to every god there is that i do not manage to get more lost as i try to keep track of the trees that i am passing… with little luck since its only getting darker. 

ssssnap!

i freeze mid step as a branch snaps somewhere behind me. whatever that was sounded much bigger than a squirrel. my heart pounds in my chest as the overwhelming fear twists my gut. reluctantly, my head turns to the sound to see nothing but a vast, dark ocean of trees. the once comforting darkness spikes my paranoia as my eyes struggle to focus on my surroundings. i hear another branch snap and whip my head to my right. still, i see nothing but darkness. this is not good. with no other option, i continue the path i started. anxiety courses through me as i walk and now im acutely more aware of every little sound, down to the puff of my own breath leaving my mouth. as the fear crawls up my spine, i start to walk faster and faster until im damn near jogging. i continuously stumble over the natural debris covering the forest floor but i keep my brisk pace, not bothering to slow down.

as my boots catch on a particularly large tree branch, i fall and look up to see that i seem to have come into a decent sized... clearing. in the middle of the woods? i push myself to my feet and look around to see a near perfect circle of space between the cluster of trees. i step farther out of the tree line and strain my eyes to try and see anything that could help me identify where i am. but i definitely would have remembered this clearing if i'd ever stumbled across it before. i've never seen anything like this in these woods besides the clearing surrounding my own home. as i look around confusedly, i forget that there was a small chance i was being followed by something. instead astonishment replaces the fear as i look around. but not for long. i start to hear the distinct sound of crunching leaves coming from my right. this time my entire body freezes for a fraction of a second and i do not turn to see whatever it is coming for me. instead i turn left and start to run. as i sprint through the tree line, i make it long enough that the clearing behind me starts to morph back into endless trees. but turning back to look proves to be a mistake as i trip once again and fall, unable to catch myself as i collide with the ground. sharp pain shoots through my knee again and i know this time i would not just have a bruise. i wince and cry as i push into the dirt to roll onto my back. 

through my fear, i could only hear my boots making contact with the earth beneath me but now that i am still i can definitely hear the pursuit of something coming towards me. it doesn't sound like running but then again i may not be able to hear over the sound of my own pounding heart and heaving breaths. i attempt to scramble to my feet and push through the pain in my leg but i can only manage a weak limping jog. i feel tears pool in my eyes as i stop to lean my side against a tree. there's just no way i'll make it to my cabin like this. and there's no way i'd beat whatever it is that's following me. as the pain in my knee starts to throb, i sink lower until i'm sitting with my back against the tree. through my wallowing i failed to realize that the sound from before had stopped. as i turn my head to look around, i spot a silhouette off to my left. back from where i originally started running. it looks like.... a person? who in their right mind would be out this far? it seems like the seconds drag on as i stare wordlessly at the unmoving figure. i have no options to weigh so i wait. for impending doom most certainly. but there's nothing i can really do. trying to get up again really isn't practical and would just alert them to my location, if they don't see me already. 

i blink and suddenly the figure looks a lot closer than they were a second ago. no... my mind is playing tricks on me no one moves that fast. my heart rate kicks into high gear as the figure starts to become larger. they're definitely getting closer. my reflexes kick in and i scramble with no success to get onto my feet. i hear my breath stutter and a cry threatens to leave my lips as the figure finally really comes into view and then stops. though it's still very dark, they're close enough now that i can see the person is a man. he's human looking... enough. but that doesn't really quell my fear. he's still not close enough that he could hear me if i spoke in a normal tone but i know he can see me. i watch as his head tilts to the side for a second before he starts to walk, much slower now, towards me. 

"are you injured?" though he's still not very close, his voice carries and i can hear the genuine concern (and confusion) in his tone. he sounds human enough. i nod, not trusting my voice at this current moment. he walks until he's standing an arms length away and then crouches down. 

"i apologize. i didn't mean to frighten you, are you lost?" oh. though i tried to focus on his words i became quickly distracted by his voice. a smooth rich tenor that made my brain a little fuzzy. i still can't see his face clearly but he has to be pretty with a voice like that. i was so caught up in my own thoughts i completely ignored his question. "oh, that may not be an appropriate thing to ask... uh if you're okay with it, i may be able to help you." he quickly backpedals once he gets no response from me. it takes me a few seconds to answer but really what have i got to lose? only my literal life. i can't get anywhere like this and there's... something about him. i would say my intuition has never done me wrong and if i'm trusting it, he doesn't seem likely to hurt me. so i nod once again and try to will the shakiness out of my voice. 

"okay... i um, i can't walk." i say, my voice quiet as i look to my leg that is still in pain. he follows my gaze as if he could really see what i was referring to. nevermind the dark, he definitely can't see past the two skirts i have on and the knee high socks and combat boots. he seems to realize this fact as he clears his throat and turns back to me. 

"i can carry you... if that's alright with you, of course." he answers back. he almost sounds shy... or embarrassed? not being able to see his face clearly is really bugging me but i nod anyway. he moves to make it easier for him to maneuver me before an arm encircles my waist and i'm being lifted from my seated position. i quickly swing my arm to go around his shoulders, ignoring the warmth i feel creeping up my neck, and try to hold most of my weight. once he has me mostly lifted up he scoops his other arm under my legs. i hiss when the movement causes a jolt of pain through my knee. 

i feel him tense and i rush to reassure him. "i'm okay, sorry my knee is just.... i'm fine really." i say and he relaxes, letting out a soft ‘okay’ as he stands back up to full height. as he starts to walk i can't help but try and study his face. this close i can see him a bit more clearly but not by much, the only light being from the bright, full moon. i can see enough to notice his hair and the outline of his features but not much more than that. as i look at him, i feel a question bubble to the surface and can't help but voice it.

"why are you helping me?" i ask hesitantly, hoping it doesn't sound like an accusation. 

"well... had i not frightened you, you would not have gotten injured. i do sincerely apologize, i had not expected you to run." he says matter-of-factly, like that was the entire reason he approached me in the first place. even though i can feel that that’s not the entire reason he started to follow me, i see nothing else to say so we continue on in silence. i watch as the trees break and we end up back in the clearing. which confuses me but i say nothing. once we're a few paces away from the tree line he stops. expecting to see nothing, i turn and look out into the clearing. except now there's a very large mansion sitting in the middle of it. my jaw drops as i stare. there's absolutely no way i would've missed that! but then i feel it. there's a subtle tremor in the air like a shimmering in the energy. magick. it tingles against my senses and if i didn't practice magick i would never have felt it. but it's definitely there. there’s no way… illusion magick is hardly used anymore and you'll find very few who are able to conjure illusions around anymore, most magick users being wary of them. so how he managed an illusion this strong is beyond me. i reach out with my senses, trying to feel the man's aura but i sense nothing out of the ordinary. he feels… normal. so how in the hell- he's..not alone. as the realization dawns on me, the mansion comes to life, lights turning on inside and out. 

"ah, this would probably be a good time to mention that i do not live alone." he says sheepishly as he looks down at my awestruck expression. "most of my housemates should be asleep or off to their own activities so we most likely won't be disturbed." i don't miss the maybes in that statement. 

"oh...okay." i breathe out still not believing my eyes. just as he's about to continue walking, the grand front door slowly swings open. i think i hear him mutter something under his breath but i don't pay attention long enough to try and discern what it was. the man standing at the door is tall in stature and i notice a similarity in the way they carry themselves with the grace of someone of high status. almost royal in a way. he strides down the steps towards where we stand but stops farther away than i assumed he was going to. 

"who's this?" the taller man says as he looks between me and the man currently cradling me. i probably should've gotten his name. he seems to realize this too as he looks down at me with furrowed brows. 

"y/n... i'm y/n." i answer instead, trying to save the awkwardness.

"and i'm yunho, nice to meet you. what...happened, seonghwa?" yunho smiles as he says it but he shares a look with his housemate, who i now know the name of, that i don't understand. 

"i startled her and she fell while running. her knee seems to be injured." seonghwa summarizes but there's another look that passes between the two. like they're not just having this conversation out loud. 

"ah, i see. well in that case, you're in good hands." yunho shifts his gaze to me and his eyes soften, similar to the way it would if you were trying to console a wounded animal. i can't help but smile at the kindness in his tone. seonghwa walks up to yunho and the latter turns to go back up the steps with us in tow. as we walk through the door, i'm immediately overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the interior. and we're only in the foyer! i can't even begin to imagine the rest of the mansion. 

the decor is dark; a blend of black, silver, and shades of red everywhere you turn. in the middle of the foyer sits a small pedestal with a statue of a woman with devilish wings standing atop it. she stares up with long, clawed hands reaching up towards the luxurious chandelier that glitters like diamonds. the floors are dark marbled tile and the ceilings are higher than i thought was ever possible. there's a wide, curved staircase on either side leading up to what i can assume is another beautiful foyer. down the hall in front of us leads to what i can see is the living room on one side and the kitchen and dining area on the other. i can't see the details from here but i see the decor in there is also black and red. the entire place is lit up in a warm glow from the light fixtures lining the walls. 

as i admire the opulence, i forget about the two men waiting with me. that is until i feel eyes on me. when i snap out of my daze i see yunho looking at me, there's a gentle smile curving his lips and w o w. in the dark i couldn't make out his features very well but... he is beautiful. even more so than his home. my eyes rove over his tall, lean figure and i try not to let my jaw hang. his brown hair is highlighted with honey blonde streaks throughout and his skin is perfectly clear. he's dressed head to toe in black with a long overcoat that brushes the back of his shins. the only color in his ensemble is the red on the inside of his coat and red accents on the undone buttons of his loose black shirt. the smile curving his lips slowly morphs into a smirk as i continue to stare. we make eye contact and i shift my gaze immediately, embarrassed at having been caught. 

"we will have to go upstairs, all of my supplies are in the study at the moment." seonghwa says apologetically, though i only realized halfway through his statement that he was speaking to me. i turn to look up at him and am once again struck by beauty beyond my comprehension. no seriously, what did i walk into? and how many more of them are there?! i try (and fail) to stare less but i can't help it. his eyes are sharp, almost piercing but also kind as he looks at me. blonde strands of hair fall into his eyes and i have the strangest urge to push them away. his skin is clear even this close and he smells delightful. has he smelt like this the whole time and why have i just noticed? i snap out of it quickly enough that neither of them suspects my silence and reassure him that it's fine. 

"i'll leave you both to it, i have things to attend to. but if you need anything let me know." yunho smiles and bows his head at me before passing another silent look with seonghwa. he walks away, hands in his pockets as he takes the steps. he turns as he gets to the top, sparing me a last look and there's something i can't put my finger on in his eyes. but then he's disappearing down the hall before i can decipher what his look meant. 

seonghwa

i look down at the girl in my arms out of my periphery again. for the millionth time since we arrived at the mansion. i wonder if she's noticed me stealing glances at her. not likely considering she has yet to mention it. i just don't understand. she shouldn't have been able to get into the clearing let alone our home. she stumbled through the barrier completely unaware of the alarm she raised inside these very walls. we all felt it when she passed through. the dim trill in the air, a slight shift in the energy. i can still feel the way my hair stood on edge and my senses heightened. our magick is powerful, we'd made very sure of it. so how was she here? and why? from what i can tell, she seems very human. she smells very human. 

she was right to have run at first but then she put up no fight coming here. it made no sense. this poor girl... she has no earthly clue what she's willingly walked herself into. or rather allowed me to lead her into. even now as i carry her up the steps, she seems utterly calm. of course i can still feel the way her heartbeat hasn't gone back to normal and i can feel the nervousness around the edges of her energy. but every time she looks up at me, her eyes are clear. no worry creasing her forehead or apprehension in her gaze. just clear curiosity. and i feel no anxiety with her here. not really. except for the swirling confusion, i feel... relaxed. definitely not how i should feel with an intruder in our veiled home. but i can sense it on yunho too. he wasn't afraid, just curious. maybe a little concerned. for her... she really shouldn't be here. 

i look at her once again and can’t help but be endeared at the awestruck expression that hasn’t left her features since we first stepped through the door. her eyes are wide with wonder as she looks around the halls and her lips are slightly parted as she takes everything in. i don’t even realize how long i’m staring, my eyes tracing over her features as we walk. despite how human she looks, she’s… beautiful. in an imperfect way. bright eyes, full lips, round cheeks, moles and freckles scattered across her nose. i watch as her lashes flutter every time she blinks and the way her tongue pokes out to wet her lips before she closes them. she’s enchanting. the thought snaps me out of my trance and i look forward to see us approaching the study. 

as we come to the door of the study i can hear the low murmur of voices on the other side. i pause, not wanting to disturb whoever is on the other side and also not wanting anymore of my housemates to know she's here. not that they can't smell her or sense her... but it would be best that no one else saw her. i don’t get much time to ponder my options because within the next second the study door swings open to reveal two more of my housemates. how lovely.

reader

oh you’ve got to be kidding me… i probably have the facial expression of someone who’s just seen a comet but really you can’t blame me. not only am i astonished by the sight of the immaculate study with a large, dark mahogany desk and more shelves of books than i could ever afford. but there’s also two very beautiful men staring at me inquisitively from the open doorway. 

“ah, i wasn’t aware we had company.” the shorter of the two says, clear apprehension in his tone as he looks me over. our eyes lock and mine roam over his face, his features somehow both soft and sharp. his blonde hair is styled and he’s dressed in a long, black overcoat that brushes the backs of his knees with red trim on the bottom with a vest over the white button up he wears. the buttons on his garments are all silver as is the jewelry that adorns his wrists and neck. my eyes trail over the necklaces he’s layered, all looking like they’d take me years to scrounge up enough money for one. grand, colored jewels and crosses hang off the chains of multiple while some just look like chain links. i glance back up at his face to see him already looking at me, a smirk curling his lips and a brow quirked. i quickly turn my attention to the man standing next to him to see him already looking at me, his gaze heavy and unreadable. where the other man’s features are softer, his are all sharp. piercing eyes, angled nose, plump lips, and a sharp jawline. he’s dressed in similar clothing except the inside of his coat is a deep purple and he has much more accessories. large rings, long necklaces, a plethora of bracelets. the top few bottons of his shirt are popped open and the muscular planes of his chest are on display. he’s much taller than the other two men and his long, muscular-looking legs show for it. his eyes never leave my face and for some reason, the look in his gaze makes me nervous causing me to look away quickly. 

“i apologize, she got injured and i offered my assistance. it is much too dark for anyone to be out there alone. we won’t be very long.” seonghwa says, sounding only slightly apologetic. it seems like he has more to say, an undercurrent to his tone, but he just shares a long look with the shorter male. the two men standing together look to each other, another one of those unspoken looks passing between the two. 

“that’s fine, we were… just about finished in here anyway.” the tallest one states and his voice, much deeper than the other two, pulls my gaze back to him. although he was speaking to seonghwa, his intense gaze stayed trained on me. there’s a question in his gaze but i’m not too sure what it’s about. i’m once again forced to look away but not before i got to drink in his features a little. it really shouldn’t surprise me that these two are just as gorgeous as seonghwa and yunho but still i am awestruck by their features. the two leave the room, both brushing past us quickly and not sparing a last glance as they continue down the long hall. 

seonghwa very quickly walks into the study and pushes the door closed with his foot. did i hear the lock click or am i imagining things? seonghwa sets me down gently on a soft brown sofa, being conscious of my injured knee. once he sees that i’m mostly comfortable, he paces over to the large desk and rifles through the drawers before pulling out a first aid kit. i take the time to really take in the room, straining my eyes to read the spines of the books i could see from where i sit. i can recognize a plethora of books on foliage and herbs, some i know i have on my own shelves.

“those books are san’s. he takes an interest in anything to do with plants and herbs.” seonghwa’s voice from the desk startles me out of my daze as i look to him. he looks to be pretty busy shuffling through the first aid, i didn’t think he was paying me any mind. but there’s a gentle smile on his face that i know i am not the cause of. there’s a fondness in his tone and aura when he spoke of this san, that must be why he’s smiling.

“well, ’san’ and i have something in common then.” i respond, a smile that mirrors his playing on my lips. 

“is that what you were in the forest for?” seonghwa inquires as he rounds the desk with what looks to be an ice pack, black gloves, and bandages in hand. 

i nod. “yes, i was looking for something to finish off this ointment i'm making. i was supposed to have it by tomorrow to take into town but… i don't think that's going to happen.” i say the last statement with a sigh as i look down at my hands fiddling in my lap. 

seonghwa hums as he comes to stand next to me on the sofa and i take note of how tall he is now that he’s not holding me. he kneels down to be directly in front of my knee, pulling the gloves over his nimble fingers. “well, i truly do not think it’d be safe for you to try and find your way back to your home now that night has fallen. even if one of us went with you, the forest is… different at night. but san may be able to help you find that plant in the morning, if that's something you'd appreciate. i don't assume this area of the forest is familiar to you?” as he speaks, he starts to move my skirts up and out of his way but my socks are still an issue. 

i answer him as i lean down to help him remove my boots and socks. “no… no i’m not familiar with this area at all. and i actually have no idea how i found myself over here… i wasn't meant to go too far but then it started to get dark and i lost my way… a few times.” i keep my gaze off him as embarrassment floods my mind. once my clothing is out of the way, we're both able to actually see the injury and i hear seonghwa take a sharp inhale next to me. that doesn't look pretty at all. my knee is inflamed and swollen with a nasty looking bruise right underneath and small cuts all over. i reach out to gingerly press two fingers to it and immediately retract my hand with a hiss. 

“how bad is your pain?” i look to seonghwa to see him studying the injury with furrowed brows. his gloved hands are cold as he shifts my leg back and forth, probably trying to gauge my mobility. but even that slight movement causes pain to shoot through my leg and i wince, reflexively trying to move out his gentle grasp. he murmurs an apology as he looks up at me through his lashes. i’m momentarily distracted by his gaze but quickly shake myself out of it. 

“it's… pretty bad. there's a dull throb even when i don't move it.” i answer his earlier question and try my hardest to keep still as he grabs a wipe from his lap to start cleaning the cuts. seonghwa nods but otherwise stays quiet as he starts the process of fixing the injury. we sit in silence as he cleans, bandages, and wraps my knee. i find it very difficult to keep my eyes off his face as his hands move nimbly on my skin. his beauty is incomparable, strong brows furrowed with concentration, sharp eyes with pretty lips. as if he can feel my stare, his eyes flick up to mine. i look away quickly pretending to stare at the shelf behind his head. i really hope he can’t hear the way my heartbeat sped up with that nanosecond of eye contact because it feels as if the organ might jump out of my chest. a man i just met should not have this effect on me. get a hold of yourself! 

seonghwa continues his work on my knee, seemingly completely unaware of my inner turmoil. between the calming silence and seonghwa’s gentle touches against my leg, i find myself relaxing further and further into my seat. just as my eyes start to feel heavy, a soft knock sounds on the wooden doors. both our heads look to the doors before i hear seonghwa sigh and mumble something along the lines of “excuse me” under his breath. he stands up and brushes the wrinkles out of his pants, making his way to the door. the beautiful, billowy sleeves of his white blouse sway with his arms as they swing at his sides and i watch him walk as if in a trance. i snap myself out of it and instead turn my gaze to inspect my knee. now that it’s cleaned and bandaged it doesn’t look as gruesome. the cool ice pack is relieving the pain and throbbing but the swelling won’t be down for a while. i’ll have to wait for seonghwa to make a decision on whether i’ll require more care or not but it doesn’t feel like anything more than a sprain. i test it out by twisting my leg and of course, feel pain shoot up my leg but surprisingly not as bad as before. my inspection is interrupted when seonghwa opens the door and a voice i recognize speaks up. 

“i apologize for disturbing you but hongjoong needs you. right now.” i hear seonghwa make a disapproving sound and i turn to look at the two. yunho’s already looking at me and seonghwa seems to be hesitant to leave. 

“i’m sure i’ll be fine, you can leave me if you need to attend to other things. can’t do much like this anyway.” i gesture to my leg and try to smile reassuringly. truthfully, the thought of being left alone in this beautiful strange home is making me nervous but i don’t need either of them to know that. both their brows furrow as they listen to me, neither of them really trusting my words. finally, seonghwa nods with a resigned sigh.

“i would not advise putting pressure on it but you should be alright to walk soon. allow the swelling some time to alleviate and do be careful.” he instructs and turns with a bow. yunho comes into the study and closes the door behind him. he takes long strides to the sofa opposite of mine and takes his seat. just like with seonghwa, i become entranced with the way he moves so gracefully despite his long limbs and stature.

“if you don’t mind me asking, how’d you do that?” yunho inquires curiously. his eyes are on my bandaged knee and he flicks them to my face for a second before looking back. 

mildly embarrassed, i laugh before explaining how i’d gotten here. i choose to leave out the part where seonghwa absolutely terrified me and pretend that me falling was all my own doing. i brush my hair back out of my face as i finish my spiel and it dawns on me that i probably look an absolute mess. i suppress the urge to cringe into myself, suddenly self-conscious. 

if yunho notices my sudden shift in attitude, he doesn’t mention it. instead he hums and nods as he looks back to me. “how does it feel? i know seonghwa’s pretty skilled with things like that. are you in any pain?” he asks and something about his voice puts my nerves at ease. i try not to think any longer about how the man sitting in front of me makes me feel and focus on answering his questions.

i shrug and shift my knee back and forth but notice the pain has subsided significantly. huh… that’s strange. “well… it doesn’t really seem to hurt at all anymore. doing this before hurt quite a bit but now i feel… fine.” i say, confusion lacing my words. i bend my knee experimentally and although it feels sore, the pain is barely noticeable. my brows furrow and i put my leg back down. yunho seems to understand my confusion and chuckles. 

“seonghwa’s got a way with wounds. we’ve all experienced it, trust me. you’ll be back to normal quite fast.” he stands and walks over to the desk, putting away the supplies seonghwa left out by accident. as he busies himself with that, i feel my attention shift back to the row of herbal books. one book in particular standing out to me. the spine is dark green with big, gold letters in a beautiful font and on the base, a golden honey cup mushroom. 

“would you like to read it?” i hear yunho’s voice from behind me and i jump, obviously too distracted to have noticed him move from the desk. he chuckles under his breath and the sound gives me butterflies. i shake away the feeling, internally reprimanding myself. “sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you. those are sannie’s books but i’m sure he wouldn’t mind you taking a look. do you want me to get it for you?” i turn around to see him leaning back against the shelves behind the sofa i’m on. this man is sinfully beautiful. 

clearing my throat, i respond. “no no, i think i can get up.” i lean down and pull my socks back on before carefully swinging my legs over to plant my feet on the marbled floors. i hear rustling behind me and see yunho making his way around the sofa. i push my hands into the cushions underneath me as i try to stand. yunho extends an arm to me a little panickedly, not trusting my balance and injured knee. but i wave my hand and get to my feet on my own. once i’m standing, i make sure to shift my weight to the non-injured leg and take a step. my face scrunches as i feel the soreness in my knee but it’s nothing i haven’t handled before. 

i limp my way over to the shelf and immediately my gaze zeros in on the pretty green book. i run my index finger over the lettering that reads “Mushroom Magick” before gently pulling it off the shelf. the cover has the same phrase with many different kinds of mushrooms decorating a circle around the words. the book feels familiar even though i know i don’t own this one and i flip to a random page. the page has a plethora of notes scrawled in rushed handwriting with highlights on phrases the owner of the book deemed important. i smile to myself reading some of the notes i assume the aforementioned ‘sannie’ left. i continue to flip through and read over the random notes they left before i finally come to a page without any annotations. this is where i assume they left off but i continue to skim through the pages until a presence behind me breaks my focus. i snap my head to see yunho standing a few paces behind me with his hands behind his back. he seems startled by the way i turned but recovers quickly with a polite smile.  

“i’m sorry to disturb you… but i promised seonghwa i’d make sure you were resting and i noticed your shifting. you can bring the book with you to the sofa, you probably shouldn’t be standing on your leg for so long.” yunho explains as he gestures to said sofa. in all honesty, i hadn’t even noticed my shifting so his observation is impressive… but that also means he’d been watching me pretty carefully and the thought makes me a little nervous. i have half the mind to decline his offer but a part of me feels like he’s more persistent than that. with a resigned sigh and nod, i limp back over to the sofa, mushroom book in my hand with my index finger in between the page i’m on to make sure i don’t lose it. i take my seat and he follows suit sitting, with much more grace than i had, on the sofa opposite to me. i notice his lack of entertainment and wonder for a second what he’s going to do while we sit here but decide that’s none of my concern before opening the book back up to the page i was on. 

the room is silent save for the sound of our a clock ticking and the pages of the book in my hands turning. i become quickly engrossed in what i’m reading, so much so i pay no mind to the man in the room with me. though i did look up one time when he got up to go to the desk. and maybe i stared at his figure for much longer than was necessary. it’s not like he noticed, by the time he’d turned back around my nose was in my book. a few more minutes and pages later, he gets back up again. this time he goes to examine a different shelf, one i can’t decipher the contents of from where i’m sat. i watch as he paces before he sighs softly to himself. he must feel my eyes because he swivels to turn to me. i snap my head down and try to refocus on the book but i can see from my periphery, him making his way over to the other sofa. i look up again as he sits and send him a small smile which he returns. i can see he wants to say something so i wait for him to speak before turning away. 

“would you… like a tour of the mansion? i can see you’re enjoying your book so i apologize but… i feel i might lose it being stuck in this room.” his smile is shy as he asks. he tries to look relaxed but the bouncing of his leg is hard to miss. i consider his offer as i stare at the ground, not really able to look any of them in the eye for very long. what i’d seen of their home was absolutely atonisihing and it’s hard for me to even imagine what the rest may look like so out of sheer curiosity (and maybe a small desire to want to be around his calming presence) i nod my agreement. 

his smile widens as he stands, holding his hands behind his back. i close the book, making a mental note of the page i was on in case i come back before placing it down on the cushion beside me. i get to my feet and i see yunho’s arm come from behind his back, probably to offer me support, but then he retracts it just as quickly when he sees me walking fine on my own. i start for the door, listening as yunho falls into step behind me. once we reach the door he side steps around me and reaches for the handle, pushing the door open and letting me step out into the hallway before him. the house is quiet as i look down the long hallways, yunho closing the door behind me before coming up on my right side. he smiles down at me as i look to him for directions and standing this close i can finally see just how tall he is. he gestures down the hallway to our right and turns to start walking, me having to play catch up to keep in time with his long strides. 

“hongjoong, seonghwa, and i designed this entire place ourselves. though most of the detail was seonghwa hyungs’ ideas.” he explains as we keep a leisure pace, allowing me to take in the beautiful architecture and artwork on the walls. we pass by many doors, yunho telling me what lies behind each one as we pass. another smaller study that only a few of them use, a few bedrooms one of which is unoccupied, a library that belongs to someone named ‘yeosang’. the heels of our boots clack against the marbled tile floors and his coat rustles as it fans out behind his long legs in the same way my skirts rustle as i walk. but a beautiful painting stops me in my tracks and yunho slows to a stop alongside me. i reach my hand out to brush over the canvas with barely my fingertips, mouth agape in awe. in the painting a beautiful woman with wings much like the ones on the statue in the foyer sits in the middle of a meadow, in one hand a large pomegranate and the other a skull of an animal. her lips are stained red with the juices of the pomegranate but the way she’s depicted licking it off her teeth as the juice drips off her tongue makes it look like blood. she’s completely nude, skin glowing from the light of the pale moon in the dark, starry sky over her head. a crow sits perched near her feet, picking at the seeds she took out the pomegranate and a cat is curled by her side, sleeping peacefully. her long dark hair flows beautifully down to her thighs, nearly brushing over the sleeping kittens ears. 

it’s completely unlike any painting i’ve seen, the artist putting such detail into the setting and atmosphere of the scene depicted. there’s something serene and intimate about the mood, like your’e peeking in on a moment between this woman and her companions. i turn to look at yunho to see him admiring the painting much like i was just doing. there’s a faint smile on his lips as his eyes trace over it before looking over to me.  it’s then that the feeling one of the residents of this home must have painted this themselves presents itself in my thoughts. 

“it took yeosang years to perfect this masterpiece but it’s one of his most prized pieces of work.” yunho confirms my previous suspicions as he brings up this ‘yeosang’ once again. looking back to the painting i can offer no other response but open-mouted awe. yunho chuckles at my expression. “yeosangie would be very flattered by your clear admiration. would you like to see more of his art or the rest of this wing?” he leaves the choice up to me as if it’s an easy decision. i look at him and then down the hall, lips parting to answer but the sound of a door opening pulls both of our attention. yunho turns to face down the hallway ahead of us as a figure steps out the opened door into the hallway with us. from the way he’s positioned, the other person can probably barely see me behind yunho’s giant figure. i try to step to the side to see down the hall but yunho’s arm closest to me moves up very subtly, a silent way of telling me to stay put. 

“yunho? who were you talking to?” a clear, slightly husky voice asks. it sounds like whoever it was has just woken up. 

“ah… no on-” yunho starts to deny my presence for reasons i don’t understand. a pit forms in my gut as anxiety creeps up my spine. why wouldn’t this other man be able to know i was here? i shift my weight to my non-injured leg, biting at my bottom lip nervously. the movement was a mistake because my skirts shift and ripple behind yunho’s legs. the other man’s eye immediately zone in on the movement and i freeze. i see yunho’s shoulders tense as the other man’s gaze slowly trails back up to look his housemate in the eye. then yunho releases a puff of air letting his shoulders drop and he steps to the side ever so slightly. “seonghwa brought her here. she got lost in the forest and hurt herself. i was just showing her around.” yunho explains, sounding defeated. the other man looks me over with his head tilted and cat-like eyes narrowed in suspicion. he’s not as tall as yunho but is broader than him, wide shoulders drawing my attention even from this distance. his jet black hair is ruffled from having just been asleep. he’s clad in a black t-shirt and sweatpants, the most casual dress of any the men i’ve seen thus far. our gazes lock and he seems to be trying to read me as he stares, eyes flitting around my face.

yunho breaks the tense silence by clearing his throat. “y/n, this is san. i think i mentioned him to you earlier in the study. san, this is y/n.” all san does in response is hum, looking away from me back to yunho. 

“does hongjoong know you’re showing her around?” san inquires, brow raised. yunho looks away, scratching the back of neck nervously. ah, that must’ve been why he didn’t want san to see me. but who was this ‘hongjoong’? every time he’s been mentioned, they speak of him in this high regard. “yunho… do you even know how long seonghwa plans on keeping her here? should she really be seeing… everyone?” as he asks the last question, san’s gaze turns to me again. there isn’t as much hardness in his gaze, just apprehension. like he doesn’t trust me. i suppose that would make sense, i am a random stranger in his home. yunho opens his mouth to speak but i cut in before he can get whatever he was going to say out. 

“i don’t plan on being here much longer, i assure you. i appreciate all of seonghwa’s kindness but i have things to attend to back at my own home. he was just offering me shelter for the night since it’s dark and i lost my way. in the morning, i’ll be going back to my cottage.” i answer san’s inquiries with a polite smile. both men turn to me as i speak and san’s eyebrow quirks up again. 

“uh, weren’t you searching for something? san may be able to help you find it!” yunho says, head turning back to the other man who gives him an incredulous look. 

san sighs as he looks back to me, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “what is it you were looking for?” he asks in a bored tone that offends me ever so slightly. what is his issue? 

“you don’t have to help me, i’m perfectly capable of finding it on my own.” i answer with indignation, matching his stance. san’s bored expression breaks as he tries to fight off a smirk.

“if that were the case, would you have gotten yourself lost?” he asks with an irritating self-satified smirk on his lips. my arms drop from my chest as my brows furrow but san pays me no more mind, turning back to his bedroom door. “if you’d like my help, yunho or seonghwa can bring you to me tomorrow morning.” and with that he walks into his room and shuts the door behind himself. yunho and i are left in the silent hallway as irritation stirs in my gut. 

“do you… still want to see the rest?” yunho asks softly as he looks at me. 

i turn to him and smile. “yes, you were saying something about seeing more of the art?”

♰ note :: cliffhanger tehe >:) and we met quite a few members... pls pls leave feedback i want to hear you thoughts!! if you enjoyed consider rbing.

[withonly-sweetheart]

Starry Eyed Singer

You're a scientist, not a singer, but when the newest experiment takes a liking to not only you, but your voice, you might just be the key to finding the rest of them. And although he's stuck behind the confines that keep him away from you, that hide the songs that he knows could have you throwing yourself into the water for him, he won't hurt you. After all, how could he? When you're his starry eyed singer.

a/n: first lets ignore the fact there's only dialogue at the last bit im so tired of this literally its been two whole ass weeks I NEVER GO PAST A DEADLINE IM GONNA TWEAK buuuut i really really like this idea i just think that for a theme, this is short and sweet enough for me! i would definitely want to expand on this as a whole, and i couldn't resist adding a dead dove ending <3 (im a creepy mf ik)

find the bad ending here...

alright now its time for credits

@bunnivievve - this is literally her au. like seriously i took everything from her analysis sheet like i would not be here without you. i salute you fine woman you are the reason i wake up and write siren leon. + thank you sm for ur hc i hope it's fitting to what you were thinking!!! THISSSSS LITERALLY THIS IS WHAT INSPIRED ME SMMM <333

@larvamars - help im sorry for mentioning you but i kinda took the art of leon looming over the scientist in that one piece of urs to heart... yeah... thinkin abt that while writing this really helped <3 so tysm just crediting people where credit is due!!

@sirenhub <- ngl i thought of you while writing this the WHOLE time i was tryna be freaky... get it bc ur name is siren... also the dead dove ending is dedicated to you my love... please drown me to the bottom of the ocean.. <333

@vampiricgf <- KITAA WE'RE TWINNING SO HARD ON THIS ONE... ur au is better than mine i fear but its ok this is a connection i couldn't pass up

(psst. if i didnt mention u in this one artist moots TRUST you're definitely in one of the other three.)

tw: descriptions of loss and grief, reader's mother is dead, luis angst, tiny mention of smut but nun too bad, brother i can't write anything without making it sound like shakespeare and not in a good way...

wc: 7.3k

The pearl of the ocean. He’s watched every wretched person who’s confined him here, with their white coverings and spectacles resting on their too sharp noses, their awkward gait and their irregular size. And not one was interesting enough to keep him intrigued for more than a day.

And then you appeared in his life, a presence uninvited, a treasure undeserving of his touch, not that he would be able to get his fingers on you either way. Your eyes were so lively, restless, sparkling like stars through the clear material that separates you.

If only you could hear him. He was sure just a moment of his voice would be enough to ensure your enrapture, enough to ensnare you like they had caught him off the coast. His colony had warned him enough times of all the dangers the shore brought, yet something brought him back.

You are alike in that sense, hunger consuming you from the inside out, fatal if not for the restraints that were easier for him to hold than you. He can feel your eyes on him as he languidly floats through the somewhat roomy tank they house him in, temporary, of course, but for three months he’s been stuck behind this insufferable, invisible surface that sets the barrier between you both.

A creature of the sea and a creature of the land. He entertains quiet thoughts of you at night, when his dreams should be fitful, longing to be free in the ocean, yet the yearning for you is stronger. He assumes it is mutual, why else would you act the way you do? Enamored, entranced, elated enough to send shoals of fish skittering through his stomach.

But he mistakes fascination for infatuation. 

<><><><>

You cast Luis a sideways glance, a strange haze between you, air infecting what used to come so naturally, seeping into your skin, sealing your lips shut as if your banter was planned and you’re finally speechless.

His fingers flick the lighter lid open, then back, setting a rhythm that should be comfortable enough to make up for your unnatural silence, but it only serves to make things worse. You resist the urge to bristle when he finally speaks.

“You really don’t know why you’re here,” he murmurs, and you would’ve missed it, hidden under the whirring gears vibrating in the ground if not for the fact you’ve been expecting it. 

You scoff. “What do you think?”

“I think that you must’ve done something.” He sighs and leans forward, tense in every aspect except for his mouth, brown butter molding to the cherry of his lips that purse, abandoning the man you knew. “Why leave both of us in here? Alone?”

His tone is suggestive, and you might’ve dismissed it as playful under other circumstances, but you know exactly what he’s doing—making a fool out of you. 

“Tell me,” you insist. Luis leans back, the lamp in the hallway shining through the window, bronzing the copper planes of his face. He links his hands together and rests them palm upward on his forehead, closing his eyes. 

After a few moments of silence, he cracks one of them open, narrowed as soon as he realizes you’re still watching, still waiting for an answer he’s far too reluctant to hand over.

“Impatient, are you?”

“You’re the one who fucked everything up! If you had just listened when I said the radar was, what, three feet off, we could’ve caught it just fine! But no, guess who has to play the hero?” you seethe. You feel your heartbeat thrum under where your fingers lie on your wrist, pulsing like a warning. Back off.

“Are you a senior scientist?” He quirks an eyebrow, challenging you to a fight you’ll surely lose, but when have you ever backed down to him? “I didn’t think as much.”

That pet name irks you enough to spark a retort, one you didn’t even think about before it’s past your lips and hanging in the air between you.

“I’ll rip that badge off your shirt before they get here if you don’t tell me why the fuck we’ve both been stuck in here for three hours!” Your voice is level to an extent, level like you’ve never thought to be calm.

His arms fall down to his knees, elbowing the meat of his thighs, eyes drawn back to you. “Are you always this irritable?” A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, curving them upward. “Or am I just lucky to be sitting next to a beautiful woman with the temper to match?”

You scowl, unable to summon the grin that you wish would appear in your mind. Seeing that you aren’t as amused at him at his little joke, the smile slips right off his face, and that sullen expression usurps his features.

“They found it,” he admits, albeit quietly, as if he’s afraid someone will hear. “Right after we left.”

“They… did?”

“Mhm,” he confirms, voice low and throaty. His lips part and you lean forward slightly, eager to hear his elaboration. “A new project is underway. Experiment 003. And you’ll be-”

The door swings open, and the white light that bathes you isn’t a good sign. 

<><><><>

You don’t understand the solemn look on Luis’ face. Shouldn’t he be happy for you? You actually got the assignment you had requested, for once, and with what was once thought to be a creature only found in stories. And yet he stands leaning in the doorway to the lab room, gazing at the water.

It’s been two weeks, and not once have you actually seen this supposed creature. You’re starting to think this is all some elaborate joke Luis has crafted to keep your enthusiasm fresh, but he knows that your praise and effort aren’t akin to fruit and vegetables.

“No progress?” he offers weakly, not once making eye contact with you.

“Why don’t you try?” you reply bitterly. It’s been a hot minute since you’ve gotten any quality sleep, and the laboratory’s coffee runs alongside your blood in your veins, which bubbles back up in the raw coffee beans that swirl on your tongue as you await his response.

“Ouch.” Luis pretends to wince, seemingly hurt. “You might hurt my feelings, chiquita.”

“Good.”

“You can insult me all you want,” he says, damn that clever tongue of his, “but you’re pretty cute when you're mad. Makes it hard for me to take you seriously, mi amor.”

“Why are you like this?” you grit out, sweeping the papers off your desk to slam your clipboard down, crisp paper untouched. Can’t take notes on something you’ve never seen.

“Like what?” he asks, tilting his head. “Ever charming?”

“I was thinking something like bipolar,” you groust. “You’re never just one person, are you? What else are you hiding from me?”

He puts his hands up in defense as you stalk towards him, but he waits until you’re a step away to respond. “Hiding? Me? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muses.

You tilt your head up just as he tilts his head down, and you lock eyes with him, the searing honey dripping from his eyes to yours, cooling quickly enough to create threads of sweet ice connecting you both.

How it feels to long for something you’ll never have.

Your eyes flit to the band on his ring finger.

<><><><>

The cool glass finds your fingertips, aching from restless typing emails back and forth, persisting that you can handle this one. Your encounter with Luis has left you determined to prove you can do it without him, that you’re perfectly capable of ignoring him in the hallways, in the lunchroom, pretending not to hear him call your name across the lab.

But the blue glow dapples your face as you stare into the mirror on your desk, angled towards the picture of you and Luis, acceptance letters crumpled in your hands with your arms over each other’s shoulders, eyes glazed.

One too many drinks that night led to peppering his face with kisses, sliding those glasses off his face, admiring how pretty he looked all tipsy and breathless underneath you, watching all those cocky retorts disappear under your fingers. 

It’s hard to get over someone you’ll never stop seeing, and you’ve got a better chance of being fired than retiring early. Besides, if you love your job, you’ll suffer through anything to keep it, right? Even if that means forcing smiles at his open face.

With no one to console you, a locked door and curtains dressing the windows, you let the tears flow freely, wishing that the water only a few inches away would somehow absorb the tears, make you seem stronger than you really are. Somber music tinkles away to an end in the background, leaving you in obsolete silence that seems to swallow you whole.

A tap on the glass. Suspended motionless just beyond the barrier, electric blue undertones of his skin mesmerizing, highlighting elegant fins and swirling markings. Deep azure pools that lock onto yours, hair framing his face like a snapshot in time.

"Holy shit, shit, shit!" you blurt out loud before you can help it. Your pulse races to life, drinking in every feature you can, drawing an image that will never be up to scale; whoever can put his flowing, inky locks to delicate fins that frame his lithe, powerful frame into words should be standing in your place, because you sure can’t.

You swivel around, hyping yourself up even more at the fact that you’re the first scientist in the building to see him with your own eyes, fingers curled around your clipboard as you shuffle back.

But you’ve dotted your name and scribbled down the date only to jerk your eyes back to the empty space, as if he was never there. Only one piece of evidence remains, and even that flutters down to the depths you cannot see.

An iridescent scale.

<><><><>

Your voice is croaky from even more lack of sleep, hours of waiting by the glass in vain; the frog in your throat leaps out to greet Luis when he saunters over, leaning on his elbow that rests on the table, eyes darting from side to side to confirm what he already knows from ten minutes of absconded silence - you’re alone in the breakroom.

“Well?” he urges, eyes slicing down to check his watch. “Make it quick, mi amor. I’ve got a meeting in ten minutes.”

My love. How ironic that he still calls you that, it must slip from his mind on days like this. “Isn’t today your rest day-”

“Well?” he repeats, more urgently this time. And under his persistence, you’re less sure of your theory than before.

Your teeth pierce the chapped skin of your bottom lip, cracking it open, savoring the iron tang of blood that flows freely, even though you know it’ll come back to bite you in the ass later. The sting calms you.

“Experiment 003,” you begin, digging your fingernails into your palm for a split second before forcing your wavering hand to push the files towards him. “The mermaid-”

“Merman,” he corrects quickly, before his eyes go slightly wider than before and raises his hands in defense, again, as if his open palms will stop the silent words of hurt that batter his skin from your eyes.

“Merman,” you repeat, continuing, “isn’t really a merman.” 

“What?” Luis’ eyebrows fly up and he claws at the folder, flipping through the papers before staring back up at you in disbelief. “You have no evidence to support this!”

“But I saw him,” you insist, admitting what you had told yourself you weren’t going to reveal to him. How is it that his face still gets your tongue tied in your mouth, coaxing secrets without him even knowing? “And… it displays none of the traits found in the fisherman’s tales.”

“They’re all old men,” he says dismissively, and his nonchalance, once again, only serves to irk you and fuel your need to prove him wrong. “So what if they couldn’t see right?”

“But—”

“No buts,” he says with a tone of finality, and it doesn’t occur to you to speak back this time. The point’s been lost in your first plea, and the honey bees descend from his tongue to spike you everywhere, scorn you for trying to doubt him. “Just get back to work, and don’t bother me anymore, señorita. I have work to do.”

You’ve never been dismissed by him before, so when he sinks into his hands, rubbing circles into your eyes, you don’t move a muscle, wondering if there will be any further instruction.

But he lifts his chin, so slowly that his gaze sears everywhere that it touches until that flame gets put out by the bucket of boiling water bubbling to life in his eyes. That dull demeanor lying over irritation lies bare on his face, soaking through like wet newspaper, ink unintelligible but meaning clear. 

Get out.

<><><><>

It’s hard to find something more consistent than the steady lapping of water, kissing the top of the glass where it connects with your ceiling. You stare into the abyss, willing the creature to appear from its depths, but where the flowing water meets your demands, the being does not.

Your thoughts begin to wander. How exactly had you called it— no, him?

“The subject is male,” you hear Luis’ voice ring in your ear, as if a ghost of a person still standing with you, a shadow of what you hoped could be true. That day, there was no sound in the room except for the steady current of your tears washing your cheeks for the umpteenth time that week.

It’s probably not that. After all, it would take a creature with keen ears and a sharper mind to hear not only through the glass, but to recognize the pain that even the person who causes it cannot identify. But you’re desperate.

So you conjure up the strongest memory you have, one that surpasses all levels of guilt and anger and pain to the highest level of sorrow you’ve ever felt. The night your mother died.

Your eyes stay glued to the simple white cloth adorning her body, cupping her gently like the beings from above have descended to hold her in their heavenly hands, the idea that if you keep your gaze away from her, she’ll long for it once more and return to you.

But as much as you know she loves you, she remains still. And when you drag your reluctant eyes to grace her pale, limp hands, rubbing some warmth into her spindly fingers, fingers that fed you and dressed you. Arms that hugged you when you finished elementary school, kept your grades up with a raise that was never a promise, only an empty threat.

And the eyes that sparkled like yours, now dead. How similar you look to her, even now, hollow cheeks and irises that lose their cheer, wilting flowers like your dress that billows in the wind as you stand with your feet in the sea, grounding yourself against the waves that threaten to pull you away.

Why couldn’t you stay? Why did she abandon you in a cruel, motherless world that you know is common yet feels like a situation that will only ever apply to your pitiful self? Why does nothing last, if only for a fleeting moment in which you light her pyre and watch the flames engulf her until she’s nothing but a pile of ashes.

Before the wind can steal her away with its greedy fingers, you sweep her into a vase.

And that vase will stay in the second wooden shelf, the sturdiest one right above your desk, two inches away from the ledge, pressed against the chipped paint of your wall. You will never let her go. She will always be with you; in one way or another.

You’ll make sure of that.

Guilt isn’t the right word. There is no word to describe the torrents of how disgusted you are at yourself, and if there is, there shouldn’t be. You’ve confined your mother to these lands instead of accepting the peace she deserves.

And suddenly, observing the creature doesn’t seem as important as before. There are more pressing issues at hand, issues that might have something to do with your current lack of luck, as of late.

What you miss as you scamper around the room is the eyes that watch you from the darkness, sharp enough to crackle fire that would burn this whole place to the ground if he wished, but he waits. 

In silence as you hastily grab your bag from the coat rack, abandoning your jacket. He knows you’ll be back from this one action and relaxes his tense body.

As long as you come back.

<><><><>

Aquamarine darkness envelops the far side of the room, if the building you’re in even resembles a room. It must end somewhere, especially since the peacock lights flash back in a rhythmic pattern, always circling back to where you’re planted.

Rooted to the peaty soil that squelches around your rain boots that were required before stepping into… wherever your current location was. Of course, the admin team is never happy with what they have, and apparently one subject to prod and poke wasn’t enough.

So you’re sent in here, to gain more information, the rookie’s always the guinea pig for anything, right? To find the rest of them, if there are any. You’re doubting this idea as a whole theory itself, because what if he’s one of a kind? Special.

But that something gets closer and closer to you. Your eyes have become accustomed to the darkness, adapting to the shapes that spark your vivid imagination, the murky water swirling everywhere the inky mass touches. 

Eight feet and four inches is intimidating enough to scan behind the safety of your reinforced glass walls, bulletproof and all, and you’re not reassured by the idea that although you shouldn’t be scared, you are.

Only once have you seen him through the water, and that was enough to spark your interest. The flame of curiosity burns falsely in your stomach, washed out by the waves of fear. You feel like nothing but a small fish at his intense gaze, a gaze that frightens you, and it must show on your expression.

Within a matter of seconds he backs away, perhaps sensing your discomfort, and you realize that your initial hypothesis must’ve been correct; he can feel others' emotions. You wonder how this works for a creature that cannot communicate, at least not with you.

Something flashes through his eyes, storm clouds and thunder alike, and a low hiss pushes its way through his canine teeth, an attribute you hadn’t noticed until the sound hits your ears.

It is strange, the look on his face, with his hair moist and clinging to his neck as he bobs further away, weaving between the speckles of moss that float from your little island to him, gifts or warnings, you don’t know.

He takes them as warnings, it seems, with his tense, hostile expression that seems to appear from thin air, staring at you tersely, somewhat like a dolphin or a seal at the aquarium before dipping back into the water without a sound, silence filling the area where he was.

And although you’re perfectly aware that your fear has not yet subsided from crashing against your lungs, you admit to yourself that now that he’s gone, you miss the thrill.

Who would’ve thought you’d become so daring, hm?

<><><><>

But wait, it gets worse. You had assumed this was a one time thing, a test run with a temporary guinea pig that happened to be the rookie of the lab, and although you weren’t too happy with the arrangement, you were perfectly content with the idea of admiring him from a distance, especially after such a close encounter.

Yet no one gives you a heads up or a warning before you’re shoved into the same room again, fear licking at your spine as those flashing lights proceed further through the water. And after a while, the initial horror bypasses your system and you grow used to the thick silence hanging in the air, mingling with the musty scent of swamp water.

You don’t know what they’ve fed him this week. Maybe they forgot to clean his tank. Whoever’s in charge of his wellbeing obviously fucked up the one time you take a break to visit friends touring the city, because when you return, rested and fresh, ready to succeed, something’s wrong

You’ve never noticed it before, but there are scales scattered on his neck, a light blue color, tile shaped as if a button longing to be pressed. Those are the northern lights transferred from the sky to the sea, plastered onto him, hanging loosely so his gills can pulse. Open, shut, as you inhale sharply and exhale swiftly.

They light up in assortments of azure, carribean shades of the murky water, yet so much more vibrant. And as if the thrill wasn’t enough to make its fingers around your neck and restrict your breath, holding your silence as if the air would scare him away, he starts to sing.

Vertigo overwhelms your senses the moment his euphonic voice escapes from those lips, marinated on his tongue, deep and resonant. A dizzying feeling that causes you to stumble to your knees, red dots sparkling all along your vision.

And through the haze, you swear you can see him smirk, the corner of his lip twisting upward, as if this was the intended effect, like you’re supposed to feel as if you’re about to throw up and dance and cry and jump for joy, all at once.

Guess what else you were right about?

He’s no merman.

You forget the word, the term to describe the hooks cast into the sea to lure unsuspecting victims, hooks that are merely sweet, velvety tones that are all hollow truths, a desire to be craved and a hunger that can never be satiated.

A warning to be reckoned, to be heard, to be feared.

A siren.

<><><><>

“What the actual fuck?” You restrain your voice to keep yourself from screeching, which you know you would do if you were alone, which you never truly are with the walls that hear everything, along with throwing yourself at him and wrestling him to the floor. 

“You said it yourself, he’s a siren! And you could’ve just died!” Luis’ hands are twisted his hair, madly clutching at their roots, and his concern for you is so profoundly surprising it sparks a laugh from you.

“I was fine, thanks,” you snap back, drumming your fingers on the table as you stare directly at his face, a face that seems crazy to love now. So many times you wonder what could’ve been, and now you’re wasting time sitting here with this fool.

“You. Could’ve. Died.” Luis accentuates each word with the ending sound as a growl, as if his voice will instill some sense of security in you, but you find yourself getting burning as he continues, “How could you even think about doing something so stupid?”

“Me?” Your voice has found a perch high in your vocal range, and it won’t come down. “Whose idea was this in the first place?” You scan his face for any hint of remorse, but there is none, and nothing in his expression offers an answer.

“Mi amor-”

“Stop fucking calling me that! You don’t get to say that like- like we still have something! Do you even know what love is?” Luis’ eyes go stony, a boulder pushed up the wrong side of the hill, and you’re not strong enough to keep it up. 

And it all comes crashing down.

“Love?” A dry chuckle erupts from his mouth, expression conforming to both disbelief and pity, both uncalled for and unwanted. “Excuse me? Of course I know what love is, but it’s a little hard to love someone that’s constantly putting themselves in danger!”

His accent is sinking further and further into his words with his newfound irritation, irritation aimed at you for no apparent reason. Maybe something’s going on at home, but does that give him the authority to take it out on you? Hell no.

You stand, far too loudly, and everyone watches you get ready to make your exit without another word, because what are you meant to say to something like that? Are you so unrecognizable, within less than half a year? How easy is it to leave your old self behind?

The one that clung to him. Is that his problem?

You brush past his chair on the way out, and out of the corner of your narrowed eyes, you watch him twist the band on his finger, flicking his fingers back and forth, an absent habit he’s had since your sorority years.

But before you can pass him completely, he glances behind him and rolls his chair back, maneuvering it to avoid your feet. You’re about to tell him to fuck off when he draws his eyes back up, lingering on your lips, and you know what he’s thinking.

“Wait,” he says quietly, voice soft and barely audible, but he’s stopped rolling his chair back to tilt his head up towards you.

“What?” you snap, at first unknowingly but strangely reveling in the way he flinches at your harshness, flitting back to the day he had dismissed your concerns so flagrantly. You justify your actions by determining that he deserves it. His eyes darken again as a frown puckers his lips and the space between his eyebrows. 

“Don’t… just… don’t leave, please…” he stutters, his usual confidence nowhere to be found, struggling with the words before speaking again. “Can we… talk?”

“No, because there’s nothing to talk about. Besides, I have work to do.”

He lets out a small sigh at your response, to the reference of that event, irritation fluctuating in his tone. “Work? You’ve been working for four months, and you’ve found absolutely nothing.” And so the truth slips out, whether branching from his will or against it. This is how he really feels, huh?

"You don't get to tell me that." you mutter. "I'm the one documenting him, not you. You sit in your little room behind the glass, perfectly safe, and not once have you thought about swapping our roles. You don't love me, and I honestly have no idea why you even bother to lie to me about it."

Luis grits his teeth, his irritation and anger clear in his eyes, those eyes that were once pools of admiration sinking into the depths of everything you thought was between you. "What are you talking about? That's not true, I... of course I love you!" Then he rises from his chair, taking a step towards you, as if you’d allowed that.

You step back, pressing against the door. Your fingers creep behind your back to the handle and his eyes flicker to them, to the hand that’s grasping it so tightly it goes whiter than his face as he retreats to the table, pale with horror.

“I wouldn’t… ever hurt you,” he murmurs.

“Then why did you marry her?” you ask, voice soft. It’s a question you’ve been tossing in your mind, a simple game of catch that started grabbing rules from all sorts of games, pickleball and why he chose her, badminton and how you could’ve done better, volleyball in the victory in which his wife revels, and in which you wallow, losing yet another thing you loved.

“Because you said it was temporary!” he grumbles, sliding his teeth over his bottom lip, refusing to make the very same eye contact he was practically begging for an hour ago, in this very meeting room where you would stare at your department head as she provided strict instructions, catching Luis’ fleeting glances at your side profile.

“Isn’t that all we ever were?” you whisper. “Temporary?”

The air shatters between you. Finally, the unspoken truth that you both have carried for so long in your hearts is out, and it feels like a burden has been lifted off your shoulders. You can see it in his expression, however horrified, there’s some form of acceptance. He’s known this for as long as you have.

“What… happened to you? To us?” he asks quietly, looking at you like you’re a stranger, fractured parts of you discarded behind you like a broken mirror, one and the same but reflecting another person.

The door clicks open, squeaking as it swings to show you away, to the exit, finally leaving behind what you thought you could never let go of. But you pause before you leave, entertaining his question. When you have your answer, you don’t hesitate to deliver it.

“Sometimes you lose people. And there’s nothing you can do about it.” 

<><><><>

As the rerun comes through, cracked on the cheap speaker, fading quickly, you waltz around your room, feeling serene enough in the moment, losing yourself to the melody. How many hours have you wasted soaring through the skies in your office, only to plummet back down like a shot bird when you acknowledge the stack of papers spawning on your desk?

But when the hard day’s stresses melt away to the sway of your hips and your however offkey voice, no one is there to judge you. Luis isn’t chastising you about anything, and it’s good enough for you.

When the chorus swells, you open your mouth and belt out the lyrics, hoping the grainy walls can contain your voice, but the volume seems obnoxious, even for you. That’s when you notice the shadow on the floor towering over you, and you spin around.

Your eyes are glued to his mouth, to the words that are achingly pure and smooth, somehow heard through the glass. Illuminated by the tank lights, ethereal tones blending perfectly with the recording, enhancing it in a way you’d never heard. 

Raw emotion, the longing in his voice, however foreign to you, the curve of his accent, words you’ve never heard. All so new to you, chills racing down your spine, tickling at your back.

And when the song crests, his unearthly high notes soar with a beauty strong enough to bring tears, tears that you have to hold back in case someone were to walk in. When he seals his mouth with a smile—a private, intimate thing that feels like it belongs to you, you’re sufficiently spellbound, the world ceasing to exist.

His eyes flash in the water, flitting behind you, to the rattling of your door, and only after you’ve twisted over your shoulder to verify there’s no one there does he choose to make his exit. You see the corner of his tail flick, you hope in temporary goodbye, before you close your eyes and replay his voice in your head.

Over, and over, and over again, until all you can think about is him. How wonderful would it be if he was real, hm? You see him as an illusion now, you suppose, because how do you ever know something is truly real before you can feel it under your fingertips?

And when the voice is gone, fading from your mind into the echoes of your room, vibrations clamoring to bury the sweet sound that you long for now that it’s not with you anymore, you realize there is something you’ve been doing wrong.

Something that you must fix right away. Someone you’ve kept for far too long, yet another person you’ve lost and tried to bring back.

Your mother.

<><><><>

The ocean is trying to draw you in again, rhythmic waves pooling at your feet, urging you to come sleep in its embrace, take an everlasting nap to the lullaby of the water. But you’re not so easily fooled. You remember all you’ve lost, all you’ve regained, and how you’ve been forced to let everything go.

Not for your gain, but for theirs. You suppose scientific curiosity was not what you were chasing this entire time. Your resignation letters were turned in promptly, along with an anonymous report to the people you knew you could trust to shut down what is undoubtedly an illegal operation.

Will Luis be caught in the crossfire? You’re sure of it, and although you’ll never stop caring for the man you first loved, only shreds of compassion remind, and even those shreds are not enough to bail him out. 

You are far more concerned for the experiment, hope that he survives. If there’s anything you’ve learned during your time at the laboratory, it’s that no matter what branch of government, no one is merciful to anything different.

So you call upon all the gods watching, if there are any, and pray to them for forgiveness. Plead to them for mercy, and spin the lid off the vase that you’ve seen so many times, staring at it absentmindedly while studying, unable to understand a concept without your mother to explain it.

But like with all things and people, you’ve learned to live without her. And you’ve kept her spirit with you for far too long, haunting you in dreams, dreams she shouts your name in, screaming for peace. 

You break those shackles with a gentle toss, keeping the vase cradled in your arms as the ashes pour out into the water. Taking a step back to avoid any sticking with you, you dig your feet back into the dry sand, watching the dark particles disappear into the clear water.

She is free. Your mother is finally free.

A high pitched call returns your initial sob, and you swipe at your face, bleary eyed and trying to get a good look at what it could’ve been. The assumption it could be a dolphin has you reaching behind you for your bag, shuffling through its contents, pictures of you and your mother. You will not abandon those, for memories are precious, you know this well.

But when you bring your eyes back to the sea, you see a humanoid figure in the distance, raising their hand in greeting to you. Tawny hair that reflects the descending sun, a simple white shirt, gloriously unbuttoned, and khaki beige shorts.

You do not recognize him, and so out of fear, you retreat further and further into your backyard, all thoughts of admiring the sunset gone, as the man approaches. You reach for your stuff as you stumble backwards, never taking your eyes off of him and this plays in your favor.

Everything about him is so different, so foreign to you, and when he speaks, his voice is raspy, and you feel like a tourist all over again, in a city where you don’t belong. You don’t deserve this, to be standing here.

You lost him, right? But you could never mistake those eyes.

And now he’s human. There are no scales, no gills, no affront to his identity, one and the same as you, and yet he feels so different. You recognize his eyes, they haven’t changed from their cerulean blue, orbs crafted from the sea itself, forged by Poseidon’s hand, a statue in the hands of the gods, but so much is missing.

The raven feathers of his hair that would’ve looked stunning in the night, now out of place and far too vibrant against the mellow shades slowly darkening, becoming more somber. 

Twinkling lights strung in the space where the muscle stretches as he twists behind him, as if checking the sea, now gone dim and dissolved into the pale, unsullied skin of his neck.

You suppose you should be happy his voice hasn’t changed. With just one word, he lulls you back to him, and you can’t remember thinking of the differences between the experiment you had so vigorously studied and the man standing in front of you, not to be studied, but to be loved.

“Hi.” He reaches up, ruffles the back of his head, as if that will rattle out all the words spinning around in his mind, mirroring your own turmoiled thoughts. 

“Hi.” You mimic his actions, running sharp nails against the side of your scalp, failing to push stray strands away from your face. Through your hair, you peer at him, the sun long gone behind him, and parts of him are hidden again, like you’re hiding pieces of him from your conscious mind, fearing losing him again.

Most mystifying of all was how right it feels to have him standing right in front of you, finally equal, aside from the few inches that he has on you. Those depths of ocean blue lingering in his eyes grounds you, realizing how many times you’ve looked into those same eyes, wondering exactly what he’s thinking of.

Now you can know. And you’re not about to pass up the opportunity and let fear engulf you like you’ve let it usurp your mind so many times before.

"It's still you in there, isn't it?" you ask softly.

He smiles, and your heart skips at the familiar gesture, a smile you’ve unsurprisingly missed. "It is. I wanted to see you again."

"But how? How’d you… do this? And why come back?" You step closer, drinking in each subtle nuance of his new appearance. It’s appropriate for him, nothing too flashy, blending into the background. Aside from that halo of blond hair pressed to his forehead, slick with salt water.

“You freed me,” he says quietly, eyes searching your body, as if he’s trying to ingrain an image of you into his head. You did the same, not too long ago. But there was a need for it then, and no need for it now.

Reaching out tentatively, you trace the contour of his neck, half expecting to feel residual traces of his missing bioluminescence. Only warm skin meets your fingers, and a low sigh from his lips, and now that he’s here, under your touch, you know that he’s real. Not just for your sanity, but in reality, as well.

“You don’t owe me anything,” you say, just to clarify, because you assume the last thing you need is to owe a mythical sea creature. “We’ll call it even since you didn’t eat me.” He barks a soft laugh, a seal-like sound, before lacing your fingers with his onto his cheek, pressing your hand further into his skin.

 "I changed so I could be with you without barriers. So we could truly understand one another." He gazes meaningfully into your eyes. "If you'll have me."

“I don’t even know your name,” you say, breathless, because haven’t you expected all of your loved ones to come back to you just like this, before inevitably accepting it’ll never happen? And now it is.

“My name?” That goddamn smirk, whether he is able to communicate or not, whether he’s human or not, tells you all you need to.

“Hm?”

“Leon.”

“Leon,” you test out, rolling the name on your tongue, causing him to scrunch up his nose.

“What? You do not like it?”

“No, no,” you say, with a chuckle. “It suits you.”

His expression relaxes, frown vanishing as he pulls you closer, leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder as he takes your other hand. A familiar tune thrums through your ear, reaching your brain at supersonic speeds, cruising into your blood. The first song he ever sang for you, and now both the memory and his voice seem so far away compared to this moment.

A single moment. Suspended in time, lovers finally reunited, pair after pair failing like incorrect puzzle pieces until now, you’ve found the one. 

And this time, you’re never letting go.

<><><><>

The stars arrange themselves in Leon’s eyes, constellations spelling out a story as you gaze down at him wholeheartedly, loving him with all your spirit and throwing caution to the wind. 

His gaze flickers from time to time, like if he truly blinks, you’ll be gone with the night breeze, a stray leaf on the sand, misplaced. 

“Did you like being a siren?” Leon’s eyes squeeze shut, head shifting on where it lies in your lap, hand creeping onto your knee.

“It’s all I’ve ever known,” he says timidly. “But you showed me more. I didn’t want to hurt people anymore after seeing you.”

“Me?” Your laugh is soft, melodious to his ears, and it soothes a little bit of the ache that has been forming since the day you arrived at the laboratory. “How’d you even find me?”

“Your mother,” he replies, voice soft. “I sensed her, and with her came you. And somehow, my father obliged in my wishes to… abandon my colony.”

“Abandon?” You quirk an eyebrow in concern.

“I can never return,” he says, but his tone is light and airy, unconvincingly so. “But I found that I would give the sea, my family, for you, even if it’s all I’ve ever known. There is nothing left for me there.”

“But you shouldn’t have,” you whisper back. “Give up all that, for me? You could’ve just visited once in a while… I wouldn’t have minded.”

“And yet I would find myself longing for your touch, even on the days that all seemed well, the ocean’s beauty is but a teardrop in comparison to yours.” Ever the charmer.

“You don’t… regret it?” Leon shakes his head.

“How could I? What part of my life would I regret if I gave something up to spending even a fraction of it with you? All those days, from the sun rising to the moon rising, and you were right there, even if you weren’t under my fingers.”

“You were beautiful,” you admit. “But…”

“And I suppose all along,” he continues, “I was truly just bait for my colony. It is better that I have left them, better to leave them safe where they are happy. Where I am now happy, with you, with your beautiful face and pretty voice.”

“Pretty voice?” You flush, hoping you can mask it as an abnormal overheating technique. He doesn’t seem to notice. “Really?”

“You always look so lovely when you sing,” he muses. “Sing a song for me, please?”

You don’t know what brings you to actually do it. Is it the warmth of his hair splayed out on your thighs, or his eager expression as his eyes drag upward, flitting to your lips. You hum a tune and instantly feel at ease, perhaps you should’ve pursued a life of music.

Music. It doesn’t sound as absurd as it did throughout high school and college, when you scorned the same people who have now grown famous for their voices. You saw them as lazy, when you should’ve seen them as talented.

You hold out a note, gazing towards the sea, wondering if your mother is watching you right at this moment. You wonder if she would be content with everything you’ve done in your life, if she’s forgiven you enough to let you have this peace. The peace you once denied her.

Leon’s approval comes in a hum of his own, snapping you out of your thoughts. His hand reaches upward, trailing your cheek before he tilts his head up and you lean forward and kiss him, and the seconds rush by far too quickly before he pulls away, lips already quite red, and the corner of his mouth ticks upward, exposing the pearl white of his grin.

“Just as perfect as the last time,” he murmurs, “my starry eyed singer.”

[alessiamalfoyzabini]

Dark Moon | EXTRA 01 | Monster

Pairing | yandere!gangster!Jimin x Reader

Word Count | 3,9k

Warnings | +18, yandere themes, knife wound, memories of past trauma and abuse, references to an attempted murder and escape attempt (present in the main story), Stockholm syndrome, guilt, Hoseok loves to psychologically torture MC, references to MC's traumatic past (hard yandere Jimin) and her love-filled present (soft yandere Jimin) that MC calls before and after, smut (fingering, wet kisses, nipple sucking), non-sexual choking attempt, fear and anxiety, this is not for minors.

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | You thought the worst was over, but the dark shadows are denser than you thought.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys!

After receiving many comments asking for an extra chapter for Dark Moon, I decided to write one, I hope you enjoy this glimpse of how things turned out later, thanks for loving Dark Moon 🥹❤️

Taglist: @katherine-kookie @btsuga-d @dragons-flare @takemeaway5402 @m00njinnie @seokjins-luigi @pjmsneverland @ajkwww @jimincrystal @ungodlyjoon @hecateslittlewitchling @namjoonsbuspass @darkuni63 @xicanacorpse @jiminismine4ever @btssimplove @antisocial-mochi267 @reallygenerouskoala @velvet-stardust2002 @angelicsmileworld @dabishou @ke1k029 @lennieharper @pantara @superrsstaargirrl13

➢ Main Story

➢ Happy Ending Series

➢ Side Note | The first two stories - Happy Ending and Dark Moon - were written in the third person, which had been my style for a long time. However, I’ve recently started writing all my new stories in the second person, as I find it much more immersive and enjoyable. As a result, the new stories in this series will continue in the second person. Thank you for reading this far ❤️

Jimin's return from a mission is announced by many heavy footsteps, some even shuffling, you hear excited whispers and words left unsaid.

You jerk open your eyes, your blurred vision in the dark making you dizzy, but that is not the reason for your nausea.

Jimin.

You jump up with your heart in your throat, it's not unusual for him to come home late from work, it's the other agitated voices that startle you. Something has definitely happened that has alerted the others as well.

You quickly grab your robe and tie it in a tight knot at the waist, you don't even bother to put on shoes, when you lower the handle the click resonates like a gunshot and a shiver runs down your spine, you will never get used to that kind of life, even though Jimin has become your whole world, and as a result his life is yours too.

You move your feet toward the living room, where surely everyone else is gathered, and you bring back an unruly lock of hair, tongues of fire sway sinuously throughout the hallway, someone has lit the fireplace, a sign of a long night they will spend here.

“Squeeze this, man,” you hear someone say, you recognize him as Jungkook and frown, "It's going to hurt, but you know the drill by now," he continues and your heart misses a beat.

When you reach the living room and the heat of the fire invests you, two heads turn in your direction, you simply feel the ground missing from under your feet.

You see Jimin, lying on the couch, pale under the mop of once again black, blood-stained hair; you don't know if it's his, but the one on his uncovered side that Jungkook is taking care to stitch up with needle and thread definitely belongs to him.

“What happened?” you simply manage to ask with a choked edge to your voice, rocking on jelly legs before collapsing at your husband's side, who clutches a leather glove between his teeth to suppress the pain.

The man weakly lifts his eyelids in your direction, two shiny black pools look at you affectionately and with weary hand tries to caress your face, you immediately clasp your fingers to his, they are cold you find yourself noticing and this startles you.

You glance at the wound, it is just below the ribs and Jungkook's quick hands move the needle expertly, there is ice wrapped in a cloth abandoned on the couch, perhaps to try to make the area around the wound less sensitive, you also notice a bottle of disinfectant and some gauze.

Jimin winces all the same, clenching the glove between his teeth so as not to show you his pain, not out of shame, but because he doesn't want to worry you further.

Your mind involuntarily goes to that day.

The day you hurt him trying to escape, those are hard memories to swallow, you don't like to remember the before, but how can you not think back when you have the same scenario before your eyes?

“I'm fine,” hisses Jimin fulminating Jungkook when he presses the tip of the needle a little too hard, ”It's superficial.”

“One more inch and we could have run to the hospital, though,” mutters the third man's voice, you try to ignore his disturbing presence.

It was not difficult to bond with all the members of Jimin's family, all except him.

Hoseok never showed any interest in being your friend, and you always mentally thanked him for that. Since that time at the Dark Moon, you have had no direct contact with him and you are more than okay with that, he is a real monster. You can see it in his eyes, the evil that he harbors and is not ashamed to let it out whenever he can.

That day, you would have died by his hand if Jimin had not gotten in the way, despite the wounds he had. You owe everything to Jimin you think, kissing his sweat-soaked forehead softly. The boy closes his eyes at the pleasant warmth of your lips against his smooth skin.

“You're not well, Jimin,” you whisper in his ear, Jimin's eyelashes flicker a little, you can see the shadow of a smile amid the pain.

“You're always so anxious, my love,” he chuckles with difficulty, in response you inhale into his dark hair his masculine fragrance, mixed with gunpowder and blood, “I'll survive, as always.”

How many more times must you wake up with your heart in your throat, with Jimin wounded and lying on the couch sweating and bleeding. The only thing sweet about that image is the bold smile he gives you every single time.

“And you always try to downplay everything,” you say bitterly, kissing him on the lips.

Jungkook looks at you out of the corner of his eye without saying anything, but he is clearly more relaxed now that you are there to look after Jimin, Hoseok on the other hand snorts.

“You women are so complicated,” there is boredom in his tone, it irritates you but you tighten your lips into a thin line to ignore him, ”Even though you were more like us that time than you want to admit, remember?”

The reference to that day freezes you, you widen your eyes and lift them to his.

His hair is no longer as red as blood, now it is as black as his soul, but his sadism is still there. He loves to hurt physically, but he doesn't disdain psychological hurt. Especially if it is to hit you, after all, resentment is his best friend and he never considered you part of his family.

Jimin's eyes go wide, the black has stopped sparkling, the sweetness has been replaced by anger.

“Shut the fuck up, Hoseok,” he hisses with a latent snarl. He is hurt, but that doesn't mean he will allow Hoseok to disrespect you, ”She is not to blame!”

He always says that, but is that really the case?

“Or what?” the other challenges him, leaning against the back of the sofa.

“Please... stop,” you mutter dejectedly to both of them, agreeing - reluctantly - with Hoseok. True, you were no different from them that day. It is a guilt you will carry with you forever.

Perhaps because of your tone, perhaps because of your look, or perhaps both, Jimin vibrates with anger and disdain. He jerks up ignoring your arms trying to pick him back up, managing to grab Hoseok by the collar of his black leather jacket, landing a punch right on his mouth that he dared to say too much to his wife, this set of movements blowing out a few stitches, making Jungkook growl in frustration.

“That's really enough now!” Jungkook has never been a go-between, he has always reasoned with physical force, and it doesn't even take a moment to force Jimin back to his seat, weak as he is, and push Hoseok away with an irritated shove, “You've both pissed me off.”

Hoseok rubs his split lips, blood smears his black gloves - the same kind of gloves Jimin had on the night he caught you - his teeth have torn flesh as a result of Jimin's punch, but he doesn't seem to show resentment.

He knows he has gone too far. Even if he doesn't regret it.

He also seems at times amused at his friend's reaction, love is a feeling he does not understand, he finds it ridiculous, and he also finds Jimin and Jungkook ridiculous for getting “tamed.”

Hoseok disgusts you.

“You didn't have to react that way, we all know what he's like,” you whisper softly on your husband's lips, Jimin is breathing heavily out of anger and grief, Jungkook seems to have abandoned the path of kindness and is stitching him up carelessly, perhaps even with a hint of malice.

“I don't tolerate-” I don't tolerate  anyone disrespecting you, you block that sentence by kissing him again, losing yourself in the soft lips and sugary taste of the boy who brought you to your knees, in every sense of the word.

You block him because you don't feel you deserve all that respect, Hoseok is right.

That evil man is like a virus in your brain, he wanted to hurt you that day and for a just reason, you almost killed a member of his family, you are unforgivable and you willfully ignore the reasons that led you to such an extreme act. You remain a murderer, the man you hold in your arms now, he would not be here now if you had managed to escape without giving him help.

“Christ, I want to go home,” Jungkook whines, envious of your intimate contact, he wants to go home to his wife and spend the rest of the night with her, but he has to stitch Jimin up first and some stitches are blown out, this thought makes him nervous and that hint of malice sneers a little more.

Jimin finds himself screaming in an instant with no more glove to help him, he casts a shocked glance at Jungkook, more blood stains his quick fingers, and yet he looks innocent, as if he has not just voluntarily stuck the needle deeper than was really necessary.

“Be kind, Jungkook,” you smile at the pigtailed boy, who rolls his eyes in response, “Please.”

“At least there's someone who knows politeness in this room,” he mumbles back, Jimin snorts throwing his head back on your soft, cozy chest, you lift your gaze and pin it on Hoseok, he's looking at you with a strange smile. He knows what you're thinking.

You pull the blankets up to Jimin's chin, he is shivering with cold and that worries you. Jungkook instructed you which antibiotic to give him once a day, then closed the door behind you, careful to let Hoseok out first.

Jungkook didn't trust you to be alone with him either.

You swallow a knot that tightens your throat, you feel suffocated. You need to get some air, even though it's probably cold outside that would freeze the soul of even the devil.

“Don't do that,” you hear yourself say, turning to Jimin.

He has pulled himself up from the blankets and looks at you harshly.

“What?” you ask pretending to arrange something in a drawer, your attitude exhausting him.

“Don't think of another man,” the blackness of his eyes is darker, the jealousy is always there, ”I hate that my woman thinks of another.”

This makes you smile incredulously, “I don't think of another man, Jimin, you are my man” you clarify with your hands on your hips, you see him melt a little as a sad smile finally comes to light.

Oh.

He means to say...

“You think about the things this man says,” he points out to you, ”But it's all bullshit, stop this guilt, it's killing me.”

Tears accumulate between your eyelashes, you blink quickly to chase them away.

“But it's true, I did-I almost killed you,” your lips tremble, Jimin instantly notices.

He doesn't like to resume the before, it disturbs him. But he has to if he wants to calm you down somehow.

“And before you tried to kill me, I hurt you willingly,” he emphasizes the last word with a grimace of contempt, to himself, “I pushed you to the limit and at that moment I liked it.”

Jimin never hid his darkness, he promised to love and respect you after, but it was not so before.

It was hell, just thinking about it leaves you paralyzed, the memories of pain are suffocating. Those of the pleasure you did not accept but yearned for are even more so.

Still, you shake your head, whichever way you look at it, you feel guilty.

“You were drunk; you didn't really want to” you try to justify him.

“I was drunk because I was fucking pissed, pissed at you,” the man points out to you, now bleary-eyed.

He would never hurt you now, in the after.

Right?

“You can justify me, but not yourself?” the pain in his voice leaves you stunned and pained, the shadows of your past are dense and heavy, Hoseok wallows among them, you think angrily.

But Jimin doesn't feel the same way, the problem is not Hoseok, he knows that very well.

You two still haven't gotten over the before, that's what reinforces the pain.

“I can't accept what I did, because I was never this” you were never a monster, no need to say that, Jimin already understood, “But I acted like one, you at least do it for a living.”

The man shakes his head, “I did it out of anger, and anger led to making my hate-based reality also a job” for a moment he sees the exhausted little boy collapsing at Seokjin's feet again and accepts his offer.

He will not deny it, it was the best choice ever, even if the circumstances that led him to meet you were terrible.

But he doesn't regret his love; he could let you go, but he won't.

He is too involved with you, you are too involved with him, you are a family now, in the after.

He just wants to take that weight off your shoulders crushing you. Even though it will hurt both of you.

“Come here, babe,” he invites you, moving a hand to draw you to him.

It doesn't have to happen again, you find yourself already sitting on the bed by his side, it was instinctive, the need for him overwhelming.

“I'm sorry,” you whisper in a choked voice, truly sorry for the dark thoughts you are giving him while he is in a pitiful condition.

���Straddle me,” he says bluntly, squinting your eyes.

“But... are you crazy? Jungkook finished with the stitches not even twenty minutes ago, I could hurt you, the wound is fresh!” you protest with your chest heaving up and down rhythmically, you cannot deny that the request tickled you.

But Jimin grabs you by the hips and intimates you to do as he told you, “Ride me, Y/N” his voice sounds sensual and needy, a giddy feeling tightens in your lower belly.

You lick your lips lifting yourself up on Jimin, surround his hips with your thighs, the robe opens over them and let Jimin look at your soft skin with desire. He has stopped shaking, you notice.

Paying attention to his wound, he opens the robe over your chest as well and slowly pulls down the thin straps of your nightgown, the man's eyes darken at the seductive sight of your delicate breasts and already turgid nipples, he would have gladly spent the evening another way if a half-dead bastard hadn't stabbed him out of spite, you'd be under him crying and moaning in pleasure, instead he has to settle for that position.

But he can always make up for it somehow, right now - in your after - he thinks, closing his plump lips around a stiff, rosy tip that asked for nothing more, the sensation of his wet tongue playing with your breasts makes you hold your breath, your clitoris throbbing and your entrance moistening, already ready to receive him in all his tantalizing thickness.

A dusting of pink colors your cheeks, Jimin loves your sensitivity, you could come just like that.

Your husband licks a streak of saliva down the column of your neck, you tremble as he finally reaches your lips before imprisoning them in a fiery and lively kiss, the sensual and soft entwinement of your tongues makes your thighs wiggle against his skin, you clench his legs and Jimin lays one of his hands on your hip and thrusts toward you, you mew meekly feeling the thick tip of his cock pressing against your panty-covered entrance.

Ignoring the glowing twinges in his side, Jimin sensually moves his pelvis against your pussy, playing with the tip of tongue, which grasps and tickles yours. You could really cum exactly that way and it would still be sublime and overwhelming, but Jimin sneaks his other hand inside your panties and puts some pressure with one finger on your swollen, taut clit, circles around it mischievously and then presses again, making it throb repeatedly and to his liking.

You are forced to separate from his wonderful mouth to catch your breath, narrowing your eyes at the bite he leaves on your neck, before gently sucking on the same spot. You don't doubt that there will be a bruise when you wake up, but it's a pain so pleasurable that your juices flows from your slit shamefully, you know it when you lower your eyes and notice the wet spot spreading across his pajama pants, at the height of his cock that continues to rock against you.

He continues to seduce you with his mouth until the first contractions of orgasm leave you breathless.

“Oh God... Jimin... I'm close,” you whisper in a shrill tone, your eyes watery with pleasure.

Jimin stops the movements of his pelvis, and before you can beg him to continue, he clamps his teeth on one of your nipples, flicking it repeatedly with the tip of his tongue, and penetrates you with his middle and ring fingers, leaving his thumb to stimulate your contracted clitoris mercilessly.

The urgency of your pleasure is like an electric shock, your walls sucking his fingers instantly into their silky softness, vibrating softly as they are penetrated and every single sensitive and receptive point stimulated, the orgasm shooting powerful and fast, you haven't even given him time to get to the last thrust, you come with raging shivers all over your body.

Just as you open your mouth to scream out all your pleasure, the hand Jimin was holding on your thigh goes up to your neck, his fingers tightening around it, but there is something strange about it.

It's not just erotic pressure, the fingers clench, so much, too much.

You open your eyes wide, searching for a miserable trickle of air, you try to tell Jimin with your eyes that you can't breathe, that he is hurting you, you even dig your nails into his arm, but nothing. Jimin's gaze is distant, remains intensely focused on you and doesn't seem to want to let go, fear and agitation blind you, you need oxygen as soon as possible, and eventually your brain shuts down and your body's response kicks in.

You strike Jimin in the face several times, heedless of his reddening skin, scratch his chest bloody, almost reopen the wound and fill him with fists. He accepts every single blow you give him in silence, because the feeling of your pulse desperately running under his fingers disgusts him, repulses him, but it must be so or you will never understand. When you try to grab him in your turn by the neck, to do the exact same thing to him, he finally releases you and you both regain air.

But for you the coming of air is painful, terrible, you take in so much that you can't really breathe and you choke, beginning to cough. You rise from him in shock, but you collapse to the ground with your head spinning and your peripheral vision almost completely obscured, your ears ringing and you are unable to think. You feel only shock, but also much, too much anger.

You thought the before was over, that the after was only full of love, you do not understand and when he reaches out to embrace you, your body instinctively rejects his touch.

Your still-dull mind loves him, your all too reactive body rejects him because of the danger, you are confused, you can only rely on instinct, which tells you to run away and get to safety.

Despite everything, Jimin comes back to embrace you and this time he does not accept your rejection, your body trembles in response, and when your mind finally manages to generate a thought, you can only ask…

“Why?” you cry, pressing your forehead to the floor, “Why did you do that?”

You touch your neck, it hurts, just as your lungs hurt. It was just horrible, why did he do such a thing? He said that... he said that...

“Because I love you,” he whispers miserably, "And that was the only way to make you understand," his voice sounds strange, as if trying to hold back sobs.

“I love you,” “The only way,” “To make you understand.”

You let him embrace you without trying to push him away anymore, but the terror is still there. It flows through your skin like a raging river.

“Now tell me, did you hit me because you wanted to or because it was your body reacting to what I was doing to you?” he asks softly in your ear, staring motionless at an undefined spot in the room.

Now you understand, he used sex to distract you and the threat of death to remind you of the danger and fear of that day.

You don't die from violent anal intercourse, but you die little by little inside if it is repeated day after day. Your mind had not held, your body had rebelled against that fate.

It was instinct, survival instinct.

“I didn't mean to do it... hit you I mean,” you sob, his lips brushing one cheek gently, as if to soothe you.

“You are not a monster, my love,” he whispers, remaining silent a few moments before resuming, “I am the monster” there is still self-loathing in his words, with the tip of his nose he brushes the marks of his fingers on your neck.

You know he's sorry, but you also know he won't regret it, not if it helped you understand.

You are not a monster, you just reacted to what was done to you, your mind and body were broken. Your mind more than your body.

You forgave Jimin and you will surely forgive him even now, in the after, because he helped you understand, understanding was the last step to forgiving yourself as well.

The shadows are less dense and Hoseok no longer wallows among them.

It is Jimin's words that matter, not Hoseok's.

Hoseok hates you and would do anything to kill you, whether physically or psychologically, it matters little.

Jimin loves you and would do anything for your welfare, even pass as a villain in an effort to help you understand.

Remember what you thought when Jimin confessed after saving you.

It is a sick love, but one you need to feel safe.

And you don't regrets anything.

“Jimin?” you call out to him, get a murmur in response, “Thank you.”

He kisses the fingers of your hand, some of them stained with his blood, but he regrets nothing.

“You are the most precious thing I have, Y/N,” he confesses, ”Hurting you disgusts me, though in this case it was necessary, forgive me.”

Overflowing with sincerity, you finally relax, “I have already forgiven you,” you reply.

Jimin cannot block the emotion he feels, he kisses you in your soft, fragrant hair, he knows he does not deserve it, but you are his whole world, “Thank you.”

[therealcocoshady]

U know this videos of Eminem Concert Core on Tik Tok? I keep thinking about it but with us (Reader/YN) that has the same personality as him and embraces his strange with her own strange

(Part in bold: Famous audio on my country's tik tok translated badly; i dunno how this audio is on english)

Em: I think it's going to start raining.

Reader: I doubt. I'm wearing a red panty for lucky

Em: Me too

Reader: You are in a red panty?

Not a request or anything, just an idea that popped up in my mind (but if u write it /j)

Ugh, you have no idea how much I love this. These eminemcore videos on TikTok live in my mind rent free. Please allow me to elaborate on how dope it would be as a concept 🙊

Most of the time, especially nowadays, he appears calm and composed and public. Three decades and 16 years of sobriety after getting his start, he's not as chaotic as he used to be. He's not as quick-tempered, not as angry and erratic. But the way he lets his goofy side come out, on stage and behind the scenes, you just know that it wasn't just the drugs making him wild. If anything, being sober makes him a better agent of chaos.

He's stated in interviews that, sometimes, him being high or wasted would make his mean and angry side come out. Now that he is sober, people around him probably don't fear his bad temper as much. However, sobriety doesn't mean he has become any easier to put up with. If anything, he is just as insufferable. Maybe even more so, now that he has more wit, so his jokes and the playful jabs he throws at people are even more creative. You can just tell the weird, sometimes intrusive thoughts in his brain win, sometimes, and he's just happy to let them.

Now, some people would think that, as he gets older, maybe he'd calm down (no) or that he just needs to find himself a lady who keeps him grounded. After all, maybe he's been single and alone with his weird brain for too long. Imagine their relief when he says that he has, indeed, met someone who makes him happy (finally). Only for the relief to be short lived as they finally meet her and realize that he really has found his match. Not only does she put up with his antics but she's just as freaky. Weird humor. Crazy ideas. Pranks. The things Marshall says that leave people puzzled, because they don't seem to make sense... She gets them. When he makes an obscure reference, she gets it too. And they really don't know if they should be happy for him or scared that it's actually a sign of the apocalypse. 🙊

Or, imagine that Reader meets some of his friends. Maybe she's just moved to Detroit, or they meet at an event/party. And as they get to know her, they can only think about how much of a female version of Marshall she is, in the way that she is unapologetically weird and freaky. They really like it, though, because it makes her really funny and entertaining. She's really cute, too, and overall, they agree that she'd be a great match for him. They just don't know if they should try and play matchmaking or act in the best interest of everyone's energy levels and try to keep them away from each other. 👀

[water-to-drink]

It’s A Nice Day For A Wedding

(Pairing): yan!Ayato x gn!Reader

(Summary): On the supposed happiness day of your life a person from your past comes with a surprise

(Warnings): Yandere tendencies, your fiancé is a guy, foul language, mentions of gaslighting, murder, victim blaming ,emotional manipulation. (If I miss something lmk)

(Word Count): 3k

(Inspiration): The wedding scene from Kill Bill

(A/n): Things have been a little too soft on my account, let’s fix that

¡┈• •✦ ♥︎ ✦• •┈¡ ♥︎ ¡┈• •✦ ♥︎ ✦• •┈¡

¡┈• •✦ ♥︎ ✦• •┈¡ ♥︎ ¡┈• •✦ ♥︎ ✦• •┈¡

Big weddings are often glorified as a goal most people should strive towards, but as long as you’re getting married to the love of your life it shouldn’t matter

You don’t care that you’re having a small wedding in a small church at the outskirts of Mondstadt with a total of 6 people attending, most of them are friends and your fiancé’s brother. You wearing the most cost effective attire with slightly itchy fabric. None of your friends nor family attending. It doesn’t matter as long as you’re free and with your beloved

“Normally it would be your side and your husband’s side, but since you don’t have anyone coming we’ll have 3 of your friends friends here on your side. The wife of the pastor told you

“You never told me why your family isn’t coming.” Your fiancé asked with the same smile that stole your heart

“Oh, they’re… dead.” The smile instantly dropped from your fiancé’s face when once he fully comprehend the words that left your mouth. “But, it’s okay now. ‘Cause you and our awesome friends are all the family I’ll ever need.” You reassured as you held your fiancé’s hand

Everything is perfect, too perfect…

The smiles of your friends and soon to be husband should be filling you up with joy, which it is, but there’s also another feeling flooding your heart. Fear

Fear that you will ripped away from the family you made here in this foreign land in a matter of seconds

“Hey, are you okay?” One your friends asked you, taking you out of your spiral

“I just need some air.” You said as you got up and made your way towards the door

Though the air is chillier, you don’t mind it. It’s a constant reminder that you’re far away from your past. The vibrant green trees also drive home that fact. The nation of freedom. It was something you would scoff at, all it sounded to you was just hogwash propagated by a lazy god who couldn’t be bothered to look after his own people. Yet look at you, proudly standing in the land about to to get married

You worried yourself so much you’re starting to get a bit dizzy, sitting down often helps with those. You turned towards the church entrance because you remember there was bench right next to it, but freezing in fear seeing what was on it

A random cup on the bench. To be specific, a plastic cup filled with what you think is milk tea and little black balls towards the bottom. To top it all off there was a note taped onto the lid with a “congratulations on your big day.” and a smiley face drawn after the felicitation. The same smiley face you would drawn for someone, the one person you wanted to never see

“You look just as captivating as I remember.”

You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. That very voice has been burned into your mind, the very man who made your life a living hell for years. Kamisato Ayato

The man who grew infatuated with an average joe type of a person. Someone who doesn’t stand out from the crowd, he shouldn’t know you by name yet he did. He had no reason to visit you despite his busy schedule, all it started because of a fucking note!

It was meant to be a kind gesture, writing notes for customers at the tea shop you used to work at. Just something to brighten up someone’s day and you have gotten compliments on them. Until one day your tea shop gotten their usual request from the Kamisato clan head. It being a busy day, you took on the role of making his order and once you were done you put your signature note

You excepted the note to be tossed in the trash once it reached his office and forgotten about, but to your surprise and later on dismay he didn’t immediately disregard the note. The next time he had someone fetch his boba, he specified for in his words. “The person who put that note, Master Kamisato loved it.” Being naïve you told the errand runner it was you who made it as you gave the boba over to him

After that interaction, it started off small, he would request for you to make his boba and would specify to put your notes on his drinks. It then lead to you delivering the tea in person despite the fact Ayato already had people to fetch these things for him

You were even allowed entrance into his office where he worked and you just sat there keeping him company. The two of you would talk for hours, diving into each of your likes and dislikes and eventually divulging personal stuff. Looking back on it, you gave away more stuff than he ever did. You should’ve seen all the red flags!

You should’ve noticed how his praise would always oozed obsession and how his “protective nature” was a thinly veiled attempt at hiding his possessive tendencies

You should’ve noticed how the sick bastard used your vulnerabilities to his advantage!

You told him you work long hours just to support your family, the next week you lost your job for some undisclosed reason forcing you to take up his offer to be his personal tea maker. You told him your fears of being alone, your friends are suddenly busy with matters out of their control. The only human contact you had was those in the estate

You especially loved talking to Thoma and Ayaka, they made living in the estate a lot more bearable. Especially when the other servants at the estate refusing to acknowledge your existence making you turn to the commissioner for any human contact

You only realized the demented monster hidden beneath his exterior when he caught you talking to someone other than him

It was only meant to be a simple outing, you were running low on some the tea ingredients and Thoma was busy running errands. Ayato was also occupied with a business meeting that you don’t know where it’s being held

A nice looking man around your age was giving you suggestions for what tea you should buy. The man was friendly and a bit of a jokester, you found yourself laughing at the little jokes he made. It was the first time you had laugh in a good while, you didn’t notice the smile on the man’s face fell until you felt a hand wrap around your shoulder

“I truly am sorry, but we’re needed somewhere.”

You couldn’t get a word in before you were ushered away from the vendor. The person who rushed you away leaned down so whatever said could be heard only by you

“What we’re you doing outside of the estate?” He demanded to know

His voice laced with venom, drastically different from his usual calm and relaxed voice

You looked at who this person was, refusing to believe that your friend (technically employer who cut you off from your real friends) would be this person. But lo and behold it was Ayato, staring down at you with the coldest gaze you ever seen in his eyes. His stare sent chills throughout your body you opened your mouth but no words came out seeing his once elegant smile now replaced by a cold glare. His freezing gaze lowered towards your hands to see them holding a small tea packet you didn’t get the chance to purchase

“You were out here to buy tea, weren’t you?” You quickly nodded, hoping it would quell his anger. Thankfully it seemed to worked as a smile graced his features, “Is that so? he chuckled while wrapping his arms around you. “I’m sorry I scared you back there, my dear. You have to understand I worry about you, many people hold ill will towards me and will do anything to hurt me and that includes you. I’m the only person you can trust from now on. You understand me?”

“Y-yes! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” You apologized as you returned his embrace

After that you would spend months in the estate next to him, it was… okay.

You were so mentally exhausted that you didn’t notice the lingering touches and words that were romantic in a way, until one day

At night you wanted to surprise the young Lord with some tea since you knew he was up still working well into the night, you overheard a conversation between him what you assumed was an older man. You could only see the outline of their silhouettes through the shoji

“My Lord, keep rejecting the marriage proposals sent here, you have to marry someone.” The older man pleaded

“I don’t see the rush in getting married, our clan is in a position where a political marriage isn’t necessary.” Ayato said calmly

“I know what this is, you have someone who caught your eye. Who is it?”

There was a long pause before Ayato answered the question that made your heart drop

“(Y/n).”

You thought you were fine with it, you deluded yourself to believing you could spend the rest of your life as his personal tea maker, but having him as a husband?

You were close to losing it, you couldn’t turn to your friends because they cut all contact with you and what were going to say?! The head of Kamisato was batshit crazy?! They wouldn’t believe you, some might have the audacity to tell you that you’re being selfish. The Yashiro commissioner doing all of this just for you and you’re being ungrateful, so many people would kill to be in your position!

Knowing your friends were unreliable you turned to the only people you have left, your family

It didn’t matter what your relationship with them was like, you needed to get out this house now!

When you told your fiancé your family was dead was a half truth. Your family was alive and kicking, but they died in your eyes years ago. Willingly turning a blind eye to your pleas for help after you told them everything. That wasn’t even the worst part, some of your family members went to the estate and told them where you were!

The only reason you knew was because you overheard some of them talking about, thinking you were asleep. You refused to go back, you knew that if you went back you would never see the light of day again! Call it half-ass, but it was better than nothing. You planned on packing some of your things (what was not in the estate) and sneaking on a random boat. You didn’t care where it was going, you needed to be out of Inazuma as far away from Ayato’s reach

Thanks to the fucker’s sneaky nature, you knew he would try to get you back at night it would be unlikely for someone to see you struggling against him or whatever goon he sent to get you. Right after you finished dinner you told them you were going to bed, once in your old room you took your small bag you snuck out. Never turning back and never wanting to see Ayato’s face again

But life is funny sometimes

“What are you doing here?” You questioned trying to stand your ground and not let any of your fear spill out

“Can’t I congratulate my dearest on the day of their wedding?”

“When I was still living in Inazuma you never let anyone come near me, so sorry if I find that hard to believe.”

“During the time of your absence, I’ve done some reflection and came to conclusion that I’ve been too harsh on you. I think this wedding is the best for you.” You didn’t believe it, you refused to believe that a few odd years made him change this much- “I know you find it hard to believe, but I stand by with what I said. I am a man of my word.”

You want to yell, you want to scream that you don’t believe a word he’s saying, but you can’t find a hint of malice in his elegant face. Not an ounce of coldness in his eyes, his entire body is relaxed a stark contrast to your tense frame

“I meant what I said when I you looked captivating.” He said as he took a step towards you. “Though, I would have you in something more extravagant and have a much bigger ceremony, only the best for you.”

“I’m fine with how my wedding is turning out.”

“Is that so…?” You saw something flashed in the young commissioner’s eyes but it quickly revert back to their normal composure after seeing your shoulders get more tense

“Ayato, whatever you’re planing on doing, please spare my-”

“Hey there you are!” The voice of your fiancé called out, cutting you off. He wrapped his around your waist and pressed a kiss against your temple, completely oblivious to the cold gaze the light blue haired man gave him. “Who is this?”

“Oh this is an old friend of mine.” You sputtered out

“Kamisato Ayato, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He said while offering his hand to shake which your fiancé accepted

“That name sounds Inazuman, (y/n) never told me they’ve been there.”

“Well our (y/n) is full of surprises.”

“What can I say, it’s all thanks to you.” You said

“How come (y/n) never told me about you?” Your fiancé asked

“We lost contact years ago, but once I heard they were getting married I had to show. As a sign of good faith.”

“We need to start the vows, some of us don’t got all day!” The Pastor called out

“I’ll be right there in a second.” You told your fiancé before he walked over to the pastor.

“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything to you, you can walk down the aisle with peace of mind.” Ayato said

“You’re not mad that I ran off to Mondstadt?” You questioned more for yourself than him

“Oh, dear…” He reached up and cupped your face with both hands. Despite your lingering fear you leaned into his touch. His lax demeanor and soft eyes made it impossible for you to push him away, he even had his signature gloves off. A gesture he would only reserve for you. “I could never stay mad at you.”

Relief washed over you so much that you couldn’t help a smile from appearing on your face. So overwhelmed with joy you didn’t stop yourself from embracing the man you hated and feared moments ago. You thought it was pathetic for you to give in so easily, especially knowing the things that he did, but maybe he did changed

You ended the embrace and ran to your fiancé, ready to finally start referring to him as your husband

“We gather here today…” The pastor began his speak

Your new family watched in anticipation, too oblivious to play attention to the lone man standing in the doorway. No one noticing the small hand gesture he made to alert his the members of the Shuumatsuban

You none the wiser as you excitedly wait

“████, do you take (y/n) to be your lawfully wedded spouse?” The pastor asked

“I… I d-” A blood curdling scream rips out of your fiancé’s mouth as he instantly clutched at his side

Your eyes followed to where his hands were only to be met with a river of crimson flowing past your fiancé’s fingers. Fear gripped you as the horrifying realization dawned on, the only thing you could do was scream. “AYATO!! NOO!!!!”

Frozen in fear you watched helplessly as the faces of your once happy fiancé and friends now covered in blood and all stilled with terrified expressions, all dead with the exception of your fiancé

“(Y-y/n)…” Your fiancé mutters out as he weakly reaches out for you but was stopped when Ayato stomped on his hand

“Don’t you dare get your filthy hands on them.” He spat out

Once the sword went into his back you saw the light instantly leave your fiancé’s eyes

Your legs gave out and you fell into a puddle of blood, staining your once white clothes in a revolting shade of crimson

You wanted to pretend this was just a dream induced by stress and you’ll wake up to your fiancé laying next to you, giving you the smile you fell in love with. To know that he wasn’t killed because of you, but no matter how long stared into the aphotic void of your fiancé’s eyes the delusion became harder and harder to keep.

“I kept true to my promise on letting you walk down the aisle, but never said I would let you get married.”

“Why?! Why did you do this?!?!”

“You brought this upon yourself, my dear.” He said as he knelt down so he was at eye level. “If you had stayed by my side none of this would have happened. Now you’re the reason your friends won’t see their family or a mother won’t see her son again, you still this ‘family’ of yours,” He took out a handkerchief and gently wiped the tears streaming down your face, a harsh juxtaposition to the bloody massacre he just unleashed. “don’t worry you will soon be reunited with your real family in Inazuma.”

[avocado-writing]

First, I am absolutely obsessed with your writing. I go feral every time I get a notification that you've made a post. When you pick a request of mine I've been reblogging it multiple times so it's easier for me to find it to reread. Please keep up the good work. You are appreciated. 💛

I was wondering if you could please write how the bg3 companions+ Halsin, Rolan, Dammon and Zevlor would react to finding out that a Tav/reader with considerable facial scarring has been harboring feelings for them, but has been afraid to tell them because they're afraid they will be rejected for their appearance; something that has happened many times.

I know it's a big ask, so if it's too much please just pick the characters that you want. Though, I would appreciate it if you included Rolan.

Again, love your works! Make sure to take care of yourself as you go through your backlog!

hello lovely! i've actually written something similar to this for the ladies, so I'll just be writing for the men for this one!

Astarion

When he finds out you’ve been rejected for how you look, goes on a long rant about how shallow people can be (definitely ironic). Cue the “I probably draw more looks than you” line.

This is all to show you that he doesn’t care how you look. He fell in love with your kindness first, your actions.

Absolutely reciprocates your feelings no matter what.

Drops little affections every day. “You’re perfect you know.” “My love, you are wonderful.” “You have my whole heart.”

Gale

He admires your brain and heart. To him, you are perfection. Honestly he confesses to you before you get the chance to admit your feelings.

When you tell him you feel the same but were worried due to past rejections he reassures you it doesn’t matter to him.

But if it matters to you he will ask if it’s something you’d like to try to fix or hide with magic, and will take the appropriate steps afterwards.

He loves you. He’d do anything to make you happy.

Wyll

Starts trying to woo you with romantic poetry recited or written out and left at your tent, which you assume must be for someone else - it takes his confession for you to realise he likes you.

You have a long heart-to-heart discussing your fears about how you look, where he takes the chance to confirm his feelings aren’t affected by anything, something you desperately needed to hear.

Holds you close every moment he has a chance to, giving you little kisses peppered across your face.

Halsin

Is confused why you think he’d care about your scars? They’re a sign of your life lived, the obstacles you’ve overcome.

He points at his own face. “They are a mark of pride, my heart. Nothing more.”

Spends a long time holding you, whispering praises to you, especially when you’re making love. Nothing he likes more than pressing his mouth against the shell of your ear and telling you how lovely you are, voice gravelly with desire.

Will make you feel like the most treasured thing in the world.

Rolan

The two of you are skirting around each other for a while. You too scared to tell him, him too proud to confess to you.

Perhaps one day you have a bad experience with a stranger’s reaction to your face, and he finds you crying. Asks what’s wrong. When he finds out, he’s furious.

“I can’t believe they’d care about something like that. You saved this city, they should love you like I do.”

And just like that he’s said it, and you’re overwhelmed. Leads to him choking out his feelings for you, cheeks even brighter red than usual. You tease him a bit, and kiss him. He’s never been happier.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

yes! love me some mortal x immortal??/god type couples, i think they're cute. It's always sad though when they realize one will outlive the other, unless they do some magical stuff to make the human live just as long or if maybe the god person turns into a human.

I think it'd be so cute for nymph reader to accidentally slip up again before her and marcus officially meet, but she's not quick enough to disguise herself or hide again before marcus sees her so he chases after her and then it's like love at first sight ❤️

Hi, sweetie.

Your idea inspired me to write this…. You can take this as a prologue to Nymph. I thought Marcus could be younger (maybe Javier Peña style?). I hope you like it.

Warnings:  fluff, some nudity, not much going on, mythological figures treated in a simple way

A/N: hope you will be gentle with me. your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

nymph. [prologue] l General Marcus Acacius

For a moment he thought he was daydreaming. He had to, because his eyes had never seen anything more beautiful. 

All the glory of Rome, with all its provinces, with its cities of marble and gold, were nothing compared to what appeared before his eyes.

A being. A woman. Light and luminous like the rays of the sun, so different from what surrounded her, and at the same time seeming to fit there as if she had been created for this place.

He shouldn't be in this place. Marcus immediately felt as if he had sneaked into a temple where men were forbidden to stay, or as if he had spied on something that was supposed to be a closely guarded secret.

That day his legs carried him to these areas outside the camp. He didn't know why, as if the warm wind was pushing him for fun into the thicket of the forest. And when he stood behind a large and old oak tree, he saw the silver surface of the lake and her in front of him.

Beautiful as early morning, naked, sitting on the shore of the lake with her face turned towards the sun. He should have retreated and forgotten about it, but he couldn't help himself. 

He took a step forward, very quietly so as not to scare the woman away, but when he passed a blackberry bush, a wild bird got scared and flew out of the branches with a screech.

The girl heard this and immediately stood up abruptly. In the full sunlight, he saw her naked figure, standing proudly, although fear flickered in her eyes. She was like one of the statues in the temples.

Marcus raised a reassuring hand, approaching "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you."

She didn't say anything. She only gave him an angry look and reached for the flowing robe that was lying on the nearby stones. The soft material wrapped around her body, hiding the beauty of her body from his eyes.

"Are you a goddess?" he asked.

You looked at him over your shoulder. "If I were a goddess, you'd be dead or blind for daring to watch me bathe, mortal." you mocked him.

"So maybe you're a mermaid?" He was already close to you.

The light robes glowed with their own light. It was hard for him to believe that you were real.

"A mermaid?" you laughed. "You really don't know much about the world, but you're sweet." you turned to him with a smile on your face. "I'm a nymph, soldier."

He watched you carefully. Brown, gentle eyes looked at you with reverence. Dark hair, strong body and sun-kissed skin. You've seen many men, this one was really handsome.

"My name is Marcus." His voice was pleasant, low and warm. "I'm Marcus Acacius. I command the Roman troops stationed nearby."

You nodded. "You're everywhere. Even here." you gave him your name though, and he repeated it as if he wanted to check how it tasted on his tongue. "You are not the General of these troops. You are too young." 

Marcus frowned dark eyebrows, arrogance flashing from his eyes "I am over thirty years old."

"Still young." you smiled gently and approached him "I am older than the oldest oaks of this forest, than the lake you are looking at." your hand moved over his chest hidden behind his clean, black armor "I knew the heroes of your myths, I served the gods you worship. You are still young, Marcus."

He couldn't take his eyes off you. Every move you made, every grimace, every smile, he wanted to remember it all. His heart was beating hard in his chest, you had to feel it.

"You mortals are truly funny." you continued, your hand sliding to the hilt of the sword at his side. "You confuse sirens with nymphs, you blame gods for your decisions, you call monsters those who weren't."

"Who do you mean?"

Your amused gaze traveled to his handsome face. "Like Medusa."

Marcus rolled his eyes and groaned. "That Gorgon? She was a monster with snakes instead of hair."

"She was a beautiful woman. Neptune possessed her in my lady's temple, which is why Minerva was angry. It was a sacred place." you replied, and although your words were strong, he didn't see the anger in your eyes. You were amused by the naivety of this soldier. "Don't judge a woman for the actions of a man, even if he's a god. She had every right to fly into a rage. Rome does the same, and you serve it. Remember the wrath of Medusa, Marcus."

Your fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. A warm hand rested on yours. Marcus tilted his head slightly.

"If you want to disarm me, you have to give me something in return." he said, a small smile appearing under his dark mustache.

You raised your eyebrows slightly. "Oh, really? What's that?"

"A kiss. One small kiss." His soothing voice penetrated your heart. "Prove to me that you're real."

You considered his words for a moment. Your sisters had often told you about how sweet and handsome mortals tried to charm them just to possess their bodies. Marcus seemed different to you though. You didn't know why, but you liked him.

"That's a big ask." you said, lifting your chin proudly.

"That's also a request from a little boy, as you called me."

You shook your head in disbelief. His impudence was captivating. Finally, you nodded. With your free hand, you reached for his smooth cheek. The skin was warm, you felt his breath on your lips, you could almost hear his heartbeat. 

But it wasn't you who gave Marcus a kiss, it was he who stole it from you, pressing himself into your lips as if he wanted to taste the forbidden fruit at all costs. His hand slid into your hair and pulled you closer so that you wouldn't accidentally slip away from his lips. 

Warm, soft lips caressed yours, and as soon as you parted your mouth, Marcus took the opportunity and slipped his tongue in, deepening the kiss.

Your legs almost buckled under you. You'd never experienced anything like it. Your body gave in to each kiss, wanting more and more. The solid hilt of the sword in your hand provided your only stability. 

Eventually, however, Marcus had to draw his breath. It was at that moment that you drew his sword in one fluid movement and took a few steps back.

"You are too careless for a Roman soldier." You declared, raising his sword towards him.

"You can stab me with it, my sweetest." He replied, his eyes shining in ecstasy. "My life is complete now, I can die."

"You don't know what you're saying."

"My life is a blink of an eye to you. To me, you are equal to the gods."

He noticed your eyes widen, your chest heaving in a sharp breath. The blade trembled, too heavy for your unskilled hand. Marcus caught it and pulled you to him.

When his hand rested on your cheek you let go of his sword, which fell softly onto the grass. His touch was warm, gentle, tender. For a moment you thought that he couldn't be mortal, he had too much power over you.

"How can I live without being able to taste your lips every day?" he asked "Do something about it, or I'll go mad..."

"Your life is a blink of an eye to me..." you whispered feeling his lips brush the corner of your mouth "I'll have to live until the end of the world hungry for your warmth."

You let him experience the taste of your lips again. And Marcus seemed insatiable with you. Strong arms held you tightly, protecting you from sinking to the ground. It lasted maybe minutes, maybe hours. 

Marcus spent the whole afternoon with you, talking and listening, laughing and feasting his eyes on the sight of you. His heart was filled with feelings he couldn't name. 

However, his life called him to fulfill his duties to the Empire. He reluctantly reached for his sword.

"Will you be here tomorrow? I want to see you again."

You looked at him with tenderness. "I will be. And I will wait for you."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

He kissed your hands with reverence, feasted his eyes on your sight one last time, and then disappeared into the darkening forest, leaving you full of feelings unknown to you.

"My dear child..."

A familiar, calm voice floated to you from nearby. You felt a warm breeze and soon Minerva, your lady, stood by your side. Her armor gleamed in the last rays of the setting sun.

"I didn't think mortals could be like this." You said, staring at the place where Marcus had disappeared. "No one warned me about this..."

"A great future awaits him. His destiny must be fulfilled." the goddess spoke gently.

"Marcus will do great things. Many lives are already tied to him..." your voice broke, tears welling up in your eyes "My lady..."

Minerva looked at you softly, her eyes full of infinite wisdom. No one and nothing could hide from her.

"Take this from me." you whispered, with each word your heart shattering into pieces "Take from me what doesn’t belong to me. Take him."

"Do you know what you are asking, child?" Minerva's face was gentle but determined "You don’t know his full destiny. This mortal loves you, his heart is pure. He will come here tomorrow, for you."

"My lady, we are not destined for what we both desire... And I don't want to watch life slip away from his eyes. Please..." tears were already running down your cheeks, but you didn't feel ashamed, it only proved what you felt "Please make him forget about me and take him out of my head too. It was a beautiful day, but I don't want to take away what is destined for him..."

"Are you sure? Will you deprive yourself of this love?"

You nodded. This decision was painful, but you couldn't do otherwise. Marcus was supposed to have a bright future, full of victories and glory. There was no place for you there.

"Let it be so, child." the goddess's hand, hot as the sun's rays, touched your cheek, Minerva leaned down and her lips brushed your forehead "Forget it, it is my will. Let this feeling fly away from you if it is not meant for you. And tomorrow, when he opens his eyes at dawn, he will no longer remember what happened here. May destiny be fulfilled." 

When the first rays of sunlight crept lazily into the camp tent, Marcus rubbed his eyes and stretched on the bed. A strange feeling of emptiness and loss filled his heart. He had the impression that he had lost something precious, something that he would never get back.

nymph. [1/2] l General Marcus Acacius

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