#many of them believe in none of this after many generations and keep their mouths shut so they can have proper shelter with little in retur

[poisonouspastels]

i read through Everything about the au thus far and i gottsa ask.... what is UP with the WITHER CULT!!!!!!!

HI sorry I just woke up. Cracks knuckles. SO the Wither Cult is actually something that's been around throughout generations technically with different intents and different methods, but when I refer to it I do typically mean the most recent iteration with White Eyes, which is a very.. interesting situation. When White Eyes originally got out of the destroyed remains of the kingdom, there were other survivors, and her stoic attitude and mangled appearance made her somewhat of a legend within the small lasting communities. Seeing someone that should have been dead walking (sometimes with a similarly undead horse) among the living with glowing white eyes lead to a lot of theories, one of the most common being that she was a prophet of some sort, touched by the god of death and living to tell the tale. (Also in part with her modern nickname) Due to this, a lot of people ended up following in her footsteps to create a safe haven within the dark oak woods just before the mountains. This is never something she asked of them, she never asked anything, but still somehow everything would fall into place. People will do anything to cling on to a semblance of hope. Survivors and their descendants have come from all over the larger surrounding areas over the years to seek shelter, expanding the hideaway into the woodland mansion with time as we know it today throughout the years. It's entirely self-sufficient, and everyone there is offered equal footing in terms of having free bedding, never having to worry about a meal, and of course the shelter itself. There are few conditions otherwise, but overall your best bet is just not to stray from the name of the beast.

[anyarose011]

Et tu, Brute?

Pairing: Emperor Geta x Reader x Lucius

Summary: You went by many different names: "Rome's Delight", "The Woman with the Golden Mouth", "Geta's Favorite Whore", and "Julia". None of these were your true name; all used just to dehumanize you as nothing more than a slave. When the General Acacius returns from conquering Numidia, and you meet one of the slaves that was brought from the bloodshed, you hope to reclaim not just your freedom...but power along with it.

Part 1 of 2 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Depictions of rape and SA [not shown], slavery, cannon typical violence, minor Stockholm Syndrome, major character deaths, historical inacuracy [but I tried my best to make it somewhat accurate] and Spoilers for Gladiator II

I saw this movie once, watched Game of Thrones at the same time, and cranked out a story where you, the reader, know how to play "The Game" (but also not because let's keep it kinda realistic) I'm gonna be honest, this might be a hot mess, and I used a script I found online (but Idk how accurate it is). Also, this first part is just mainly story based with the events of the film the SECOND part will focus on reader and Lucius' relationship (including smut, you sluts {I am also slut, don't worry}.

I do want to say though that the depictions of SA are in no attempt to romanticize them. I also decided not to write out the specific scenes because I myself am a survivor, and wanted to focus more on the protagonist's growth. The trauma still affects her story, but I do not want to write rape scenes merely for shock purposes.

Also, if you name is actually "Julia"...no it's not :)

Word Count: 16.1k

It was your own fault, that was what they tried to make you believe.

How dare you not wish to participate in the public baths, how dare you desire to bathe in the place you felt most safe.

Foolish, foolish girl. You were not even safe on your own porch in the house you grew up in.

Your father hadn’t been the wealthiest of merchants, but before he passed into the Elysian Fields after his death that year, he had made a fortune; so much as to buy a bathtub for your house.

If anything, you had bathed at night when you believed no one could see you not for your own modesty, but to prevent anyone from stealing it.

Yet, one particular night, a man had spotted you.

The Emperor Geta of Rome had watched your naked form glisten in the moonlight as you washed the most intimate areas of your body; sighing at the feeling of being clean after the day, only for your soul to feel tainted once morning broken.

Guards had nearly broken the hinges off the front door to your house, and dragged you to the palace. You had lived in that house for your entire life, the same neighbors beside you, yet as you kicked and screamed…none helped.

You had grown tired once in the palace, and the eldest of the twin emperors stood before you. He cupped your chin.

“What is your name, girl?”

You answered him, attempting to speak with venom, but the quaking of your voice betrayed anxiety.

He hummed, repeating your name. “Why are you all alone?”

You huffed. “My mother died in the battle that is childbirth, and my father was lost to an ailment in his loins.”

“You have no brothers?” Geta questioned, his eyes running down your form. “No husband?”

“They called my father strange for leaving me his possessions.”

“He mustn’t have passed on so long ago.”

“Why does the death of my father concern you if you only seek my body?” You questioned.

A smile twisted upon his lips. “Perhaps I like to know my fruit before I devour it.”

And he kissed you.

You had been kissed before, but this was the first time you hadn’t wanted to be. You hadn't expected him to be serious about devouring you. His teeth sank into your chin, then your cheeks, until they were finally upon your lips.

It was the first time, in all your life, you felt your body grow cold and freeze despite his hands wandering over you, pulling at the thin fabric of clothing that covered you.

You fell to the floor, clinging to it desperately as he tried to lead you to his chambers. You had expected him to order one of his men to kill you, or have them carry you…

Instead, he took you right there. He simply lifted his own robes then yours and stole what wasn’t his to take.

All you remembered of that was counting how many pillars were in the room.

You were one of his several concubines. Yet, despite being the newest, you were his favorite.

“Julia,” he whispered to you in the night a month after he had made you his. A month after he had decided to call you by his mother’s name instead of your own. “are you awake?”

You mewled, sitting up. “I am now, my love. What is it?”

Geta smiled, holding out a stack of parchment. “Look at what some of the men found in Carthago.”

You rubbed your eyes as the lamps in his room brightened before looking down at the crudely written words. Geta looked at you in earnest.

“Can you read them?”

A few days prior at him and his brother Caracalla’s birthday festivities, it was revealed that you spoke five languages: Latin, Phoenician, Aramaic, Hebrew, and Greek. Your father had taught you every single one of them to fend for yourself amongst all kind of people.

Now, it was nothing more than a shameless trick Geta used to his amusement.

“Rome’s Cleopatra,” he deemed you in front of the crowd. “the Woman with a Golden Mouth”.

Everyone in that room and all of Rome knew that your ability to speak so many dialects was not the only reason he gave you that title.

Still, as you lay in his bed with crumbling parchment in hands, you forced a tender smile. “Yes, I know what it says. Would you like to know?”

He laid his head in your lap without another word.

Months passed, and he had grown kinder…only when it was night, and even so, that was only when the moon was full.

There wasn’t a day where your body hadn’t ached from the turmoil he put you through. It was hard to discern when he would want you to be small and subservient to him, or confident and commanding in matters of the bed.

The handmaids that were blessed to not be in bed with him would bathe and coddle you as best as they could, for even through your suffering, you tried your best to treat them with kindness.

You didn’t even know who you were after the fourth month of being Geta’s slave.

Gone was the girl who had a peaceful life; there was now the Emperor’s Pet.

General Marcus Acacius returned to Rome after overtaking the kingdom Numidia in the emperors’ names, and it was the first time you were in his presence. It was certainly a surprise that Geta would string you alongside him on personal matters that had nothing to do with sex.

The general would glance at you every so often, and his look of pity felt more violating that any of the times Geta, or his brother, or anyone else in all of Rome had looked at you.

Upon the general’s return, a series of games at the Colosseum were to be hosted, among parties that would last for the remaining week.

The first was at Senator Thraex's home.

“My little Julia,” Geta caressed your cheek as you sat upon his lap in the makeshift throne. “might you fetch me another cup of wine?”

You nodded, taking his cup and kissing his hair. “I shall, my love.”

He ran his fingers down your neck as you got off of him and made your way to the barrels. Yet, as you passed an open door, something caught your eye. Peeking around the somewhat crack in the door, you saw a few men sat in the room, chains around their ankles and their wrists.

One of them, more muscular than the others with brown curls, held his head low. His skin wasn’t as dark as other men from Africa Propria, but not as pale as the Germanic lands.

When his eyes met yours, you saw a pale blueness only seen in the sky on a summer’s day.

Gasping, you hid behind the door for only a moment before looking again. His gaze was still on you. Deciding to end the strangeness of the situation, you spoke.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized.

He said nothing; you tried again.

“I’m sorry.” You said in Greek.

The look in his eyes changed to confusion, but he said nothing.

“Hebrew?” You questioned. “Aramaic? Phoenician?”

“You speak Phoenician?” He asked as if he hadn’t heard it in forever.

You nodded. “I speak five languages.”

“Ah,” he answered in your native tongue to your surprise. “Rome’s Cleopatra.”

Your nose scrunched as if you smelt something rotten. “You understood me the first time?”

“I did.”

“So why not say anything?”

“What am I to say to your pity?”

You hummed. “I do not pity you, I was showing respect.”

He scoffed. “Respect? Am I a man that looks as if I deserve respect?”

“I believe every man deserves respect so as long he is kind.” You glared at him.

The man shook his head, sighing. “You are a foolish child if you believe that men can be kind.”

“I haven’t for quite a while.” you stated. “I pray that it is the hope that kills me.”

He questioned. “And not one of the emperors?”

“What is your name, slave?” You crossed your arms.

He huffed, drawing his eyes away from you and clenching his fists before relaxing them. “Hanno.”

You nodded. “They call me ‘Julia’.”

“But that is not your name.”

It was blistering hot that particular day, but you felt your body run cold; the same cold you felt when Geta…when he first…

“Who says it is not my name?” You challenged.

“You are merely a concubine,” he said. “you are not a part of his lineage, and therefore, your name is not ‘Julia’.”

You do not know why you seethed with so much rage from his words. You did not even spit on him; you merely stomped away from that door, filled up the emperor’s cup, and went back to Geta.

“It took you nearly a millennium to come back, my sweet.” He scoffed yet kissed your bare shoulder. “I was beginning to worry.”

You shook your head, leaning against him as you sat on the arm of the throne. “You mustn’t over me, my love.”

“You seem distressed.” Caracalla teased beside you. “This is a festivity; you should be merry!”

All you did was smile and nod. It was a pleasant change from the parties you were forced to attend in the past; you weren’t the center of attention, and this was the first time Geta dressed you in the bright colors everyone else wore instead of white.

You could pretend you were royalty for a day.

Not so long after you came back, both Thraex and Macrinus, a stable master who traveled far and wide for new gladiators, approached with their own champions to fight.

You were not even at the Colosseum, and yet, violence still had to be played for everyone’s amusement.

Hanno entered from the door you had previously been at, and another man entered from the opposite side of the room. Both were given swords.

“Brother,” Hanno began. “let us not kill each other for their amusement-.”

The other man struck him without hesitation. You had seen fights before, but none like this. It was ruthless, quick yet drawn out. Hanno lost his sword in the middle of it all, leading to him smashing a flowerpot over his opponent’s head.

The fight was still not done, he rose up on his feet and took his sword from the ground, raising it high above him. Hanno, against all odds, knocked him back onto the ground and took the sword just as they both sood, stabbing his opponent in the chest.

A chorus of cheers and groans echoed in the room. Geta arose from his seat, laughing and applauding as you sat there, eyes as wide as they could be at the bloodied sight before you.

“Remarkable! Gladiator, which part of the Empire do you hail from?” He questioned Hanno. Hanno stood stoically, glaring at the emperors before him. Geta tutted, turning to you. “Julia, open your golden mouth and-.”

“-The gates of hell are open night and day.” Hanno interrupted in the common language. “Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: But to return, and view the cheerful skies, in this the task and mighty labor lies.”

Geta smiled. “Ah…a poet!”

The rest of the world fell away as you could not tear your gaze away from the man laying on the floor. If he hadn’t died from his wounds, he would’ve from choking on his own blood.

“-You understand, don’t you?” Geta asked.

You sat in your own personal chambers that night for the first time in a while. You were never overjoyed to be in his bed, but being sent to your own perplexed you.

Then, he simply told you that you were to be General Acacius’ for the night.

“He’s sacrificed so much, my little Julia.” Geta combed his fingers through your hair to soothe you. “I refused him once already; I cannot do so again. Do you understand?”

The emperor had never shared you with anyone. He wasn’t delicate with you, but at least you knew what to expect.

He clenched your jaw. “I do not care to ask you a third time, girl.”

“Yes,” you squeaked. “I understand, Geta.”

Nodding, he softened his hold, leaning his head against yours. “You are still mine alone; I promise, it will only be us after tonight.”

You swallowed thickly. “Okay.”

“There she is.” He kissed your lips before pulling away and standing. “He will be in right away. Do not fret, I told him to be gentle with you.”

Geta left through your chamber doors without another word. There you were, sitting on your bed, draped in silks you should have known were given to you out of lust and not out of kindness. Your eyes trailed to the empty vase on a table beside your bed.

You didn’t know what possessed you that night, but you yanked it off the table, and smashed it on your bed. The handle of the door began to rattle. Quickly pushing the shattered pieces under your bed, you hid a shard behind your back and sat at the head of the bed.

In came General Marcus Acacius, wearing only a thin overshirt that went down to his knees. You’d done this game of seduction many times with Geta, how different could it be for him? Grabbing the bottom of your night dress, you raised it until it bunched up your thighs, revealing your bare center to him.

He took a hitched breath. “My lady-.”

“-What troubles you, general?” You asked then smiled with gritted teeth. You felt your hand begin to ache as you squeezed the vase shard.

Marcus furrowed his brow, and as if he already knew, he said. “Cover yourself and show me what is behind your back.”

Your eyes dropped along with your heart. Still, as his face turned into a scowl, you cooperated. Handing him the shard and quickly pulling your dress back down, you spoke with intensity.

“If you will not stab me before you rape my corpse, then I shall throw myself from the nearest window and allow the people of Rome to defile me. I will not lie on my back and take it anymore.”

He took a deep breath, holding the sorry excuse for a weapon in his hand. “It is unwise to tell the enemy your plans.”

…What?

“It would serve you greatly to control the faces you make before harming a man as well. Yet, above all,” He held the shard out to you. “your enemy is not afraid to kill you; you should feel the same.”

“Why do you tell me this?” You asked, still not believing it.

Marcus sat up. “I believe we can help each other, my little dove.”

“How?”

He lowered his voice. “You have heard of the gladiator Maximus, his dream of a free Rome, yes?”

“Yes.”

“A dream that cannot be obtained from the rule of two emperors.” He lamented. “My wife and I, along with several others, plan…to fulfill our shared dream.”

They were going to overthrow Geta and Caracalla.

“What gives you reason to believe I won’t say a word of this to them?” You asked.

He smiled for the first time since you’d seen him. “That freedom belongs to you.”

“I…I’m still lost. How will I be of any use?”

“Emperor Geta favors you considerably. He is a man, and not a cunning one at that. There are ways to wear foolish men down.”

You nodded, beginning to understand. “There’s always a woman.”

“There’s always a woman.” He solidified. “Gain the trust of the public; make them love you, and they will not see the emperor’s whore but a woman of the people.”

“And how will that dethrone them?

He smiled. “My wife and I will meet with the counsel tomorrow night. I will send for you.”

You scoffed. “Geta said that after tonight I am just his alone.”

“Then I’ll refuse to give him Persia and India.”

“He’ll have your head.” You berated. “Besides, I don’t think he’d believe my cunt would be worth two countries.”

Marcus shrugged. “Considering he only wants you to himself, I have no doubt that it is worth that much. But I am unable to confirm it.”

You sighed. “Even if he’ll allow it, he’ll send a guard with me.”

“I am not one to invite a third into the bedroom.”

“Then where shall-?”

“-Little dove,” he interrupted. “the city was not built in a day, therefore it cannot be emancipated in one.”

Gods help and forgive you for being impatient on wanting to be free. Still, you composed yourself. “Alright.”

He nodded, standing up. “I will be seeing you on the morrow, one way or another.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“For what, child?”

You swallowed thickly, avoiding his gaze. “Not forcing yourself upon me.”

Marcus’ face softened, and he lowered himself to your height as you sat on the bed. He took your face into his hands, and you immediately tensed when his face drew closer to yours.

“Don’t be afraid,” he whispered. “it’s not that kind of a kiss.”

With a tenderness that reminded you of your father, he placed his lips on your forehead and pulled away. Giving you one last knowing nod, he promptly left your chambers.

You wanted to do nothing more than shed tears of happiness, yet for no reason at all, you could not cry.

Your father had only taken you to the Colosseum to watch mock animal hunting. Even when your friends invited you to watch gladiator fights or other public executions, he had found ways of making you stay far away from them.

There was a strange humor in sitting in the best chair for your very first gladiator duel. That being in the front as Emperor Geta ran his hand up and down your back.

In utter honestly, you tried to stray your attention away from the fights, speaking more with Caracalla of all people. He was more erratic than Geta by far, and it was more difficult to tell when he would be kind one moment, then out for blood the next.

Yet at least he was open about being cruel, unlike his brother.

When you would watch the fights…a familiar face seemed to catch both you and the general’s wife’s, Lucilla, eye.

The man with light skin yet hailed from Numidia…Hanno.

You hadn’t recognized him at first, for it wasn’t his mere presence that drew you to finally look at the event before you. No, it was the way he fought.

Most men previously had attacked with brute force; just stabbing the beast and hoping it would die. Hanno fought with wit. Simply using the sand beneath his feet as an advantage, blinding and tricking the rhinoceros to run directly into the wall.

He was cunning…he commanded the men beside him as if it weren’t the first time he’d done so in his life.

Then, when it came to deciding his fate when all seemed lost…Geta turned to you.

“My love,” he played with a strand of your hair. “shall I show the poet mercy, or bloodshed for your entertainment?”

Even if it weren’t Hanno, your answer would have been the same. “Mercy.”

As a hush fell over the crow, Geta rose his thumb up, sparing him. As cheers erupted, Hanno shook his head.

“No, no mercy.”

Geta furrowed his brow. “Gladiator, we have spared your life. No one refuses-.”

“-I would sooner face your blade than accept Roman mercy!”

Thus, the fight continued. An act of defiance…Peculiar…Quite peculiar.

Both you and Marcus were correct about the night; Geta did indeed allow you to go to the general’s house, but only if you were escorted by a trusted guard. When you arrived, Marcus immediately draped you in a cloak, practically covering your face and had excused as not wanting the staff to tell his wife of who he was bringing into their house.

Marcus led you into his chambers, and there you saw two people. Apparently, they weren’t even apart of the counsel; simply paid to pretend to be both you and the general as the guard would listen outside, assume it was the two of you fucking.

He had certainly thought through every little detail.

Marcus pushed on a stone in his chambers, revealing a hidden door. You had only heard of these within stories, and as he led you down the darkened passage with only a torch in one hand, and the other holding yours, you had never felt more alive since your past life had been stolen.

You were welcomed to a room filled with dozens of the senate you had passed by in the palace. How strange it was to see them all huddled into a dimly lit room, plotting the demise of the men they initially swore to serve.

An arm looped through yours, and it was Lucilla. She whispered into your ear.

“Whatever you have to say, speak it to me, and I shall speak to them.”

You turned. “Why must I not speak for myself?”

“I only allowed you to be here if Marcus agreed to not let your voice be heard.”

“What?”

“I will explain more to you soon after, I vow it.”

Thus the meeting began. In all truthfulness, you were only able to understand the bare minimum: In a few days’ time, Marcus would lead five-thousand men into Rome to overtake the thrones of the empire, and thus destroy them, restoring the Roman Republic.

When the conversation turned to you, you were merely referred to as an informant who had the closest relationship to the emperor.

It still perplexed you as to why you needed to remain anonymous; there was an excellent chance they would know you as ‘Geta’s Favorite Whore’.

Yet, you did your best to inform the counsel of a plan you had simply created on the spot (they did not need to know the latter part of it).

You would gain more favor from the public, while at the same time, putting Geta’s worries to rest about any uprising or dislike from the majority of the empire.

How you would do that…it was fortunate that they didn’t ask you to give specifics.

Once the meeting ended, you were taken back up from the secret passage, yet instead of going back to the chambers, you felt Lucilla take your hand and lead you down another path.

You couldn’t even get a sound out before she said. “It is alright; he knows I want to speak with you in private. We will not take long.”

She led you up into the bath area of the house. It was quite beautiful; the tub wasn’t made of porphyry, but that did not make it any less exquisite. There was something about it being lesser of the baths you’ve had in the palace. It wasn’t entirely reminiscent of the one you had at home…

But you felt safer.

Lucilla had been gentle in pulling off your robes, and never once did it feel wrong. You were a woman and so was she. She never pulled or scratched your skin, and you knew that she only felt sorrow when she gazed upon the bruises and wounds you had received from Geta.

“How long have you been at the palace?” She questioned as she carded herbs through your hair.

You glanced at her, sighing. “I’ve stopped counting…months, I know.”

“Were you forced to leave any family? Brothers, sisters, children?”

“No. My mother died birthing me, and my father was taken half a year ago to an ailment emperor Caracalla also suffers from.”

She hummed. “Have you ever been in love?”

You laughed the most genuine laugh ever since you became a slave. “Why on earth would you ask that?!”

“I am merely curious!” She teased. “You are truly beautiful, and there is no doubt that men would throw themselves off cliffs for you; but it matters most of who you would choose.”

Her question scraped your mind. There had been times you were fond of, even lusted over, men both your age and older…but love? The only one you experienced would be storge; perhaps philia…but eros? Agape?

“I don’t think I have been.” You answered. “Have you?”

She nodded, a forlorn look in her eyes, but smile upon her mouth. “Twice.”

“Twice?” You couldn’t help the nervous giggle that left your throat. “It can happen twice?”

“It’s possible, yes.”

“And who have you willingly fell captive to?”

“Marcus is the most recent, though there are days I do not understand what he sees in me. Then…the father of my child.”

Lucilla poured water upon your head to wash out the soap in your hair, and a silence fell over both of you. One that was broken when you spoke a name.

“Lucius…”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“He-he had gone missing all those years ago, hadn’t he?”

“He had.” She ran the bar of soap over the top half of your body. “I believe he must’ve been around your age when he ran away.”

“And there hasn’t been any sign of him since?”

“No.” She answered right away.

You curled into yourself. “I apologize if I upset you my lady-.”

“-No. I…I love talking about him.”

You managed a gentle smile to soothe her. “What was he like?”

“Headstrong.” She chuckled. “Wanted to become a gladiator more than anything in the world. Yet, he was gentle, and kind as well. He…I believe he would’ve adored you.”

You shook your head. “Maybe when we were children, but I don’t think so now.”

“It’s hard to judge.”

Whilst the air between you turned into more intimate topics, the question that had weighed on your mind was brought to light. “Why did you not allow me to speak or show my face tonight?”

Lucilla stopped her ministrations. You looked up at her, and the look she wore bore an exhaustion that you had felt recently.

“I know too well the cruelties of men.” She began softly. “My brother had done everything to keep me from ever resisting him…he had done everything. I had only wished for someone to be there with me at every moment when I faced his abuse.”

Words; simple words that meant everything to you was what made you weep.

There was no warning at all. Once she was finished, tears sprang to your eyes, and you felt your sinus clog up. Even as you tried to tear yourself away from her comfort, she merely wrapped her arms around you in an embrace from a mother you had never felt.

“I don’t want to go back.” You begged. “Please don’t let me.”

She kissed your hair. “I’m so sorry.”

“No!” You sobbed. “I-I don’t want to! Please, please, you can’t make me. I-I-I-!”

Lucilla shushed you, rocking you back and forth. “Do not weep. You will be free beside all of Rome, and the past months of your life will be nothing more than a distant, horrible dream.”

You pulled away just enough to look at her. “You-you must promise me something.”

“My child-.”

“-Promise me and I shall help you overthrow them until my last dying breath!”

She stared for a moment before nodding. “Yes. What is it?”

Your lip quivered. “When I die, you must bind my legs with chains or ropes when you bury me. I have,” you whimpered. “I have been told of men who dig up the bodies of girls and…”

Lucilla kissed your forehead before holding you once more. “I vow I will honor your wishes.”

All you could do was believe her.

There were more times than not the Emperor Geta would talk about filling you with his seed as he bedded you. You never were able to discern if he was serious about wanting to give you a child (they would be his, not yours).

It all became too real when you didn’t bleed that month.

Yet, you also did not feel sick in the morning, and your breasts hadn’t swelled. You still had urinated on wheat seeds for several weeks, but they had not sprouted.

You weren’t with child…yet there was nothing stopping you from convincing Rome you were. It would certainly be a risk; for there was no telling how Geta would react. But that was a risk you were willing to take.

Once a week, you were allowed to go outside the palace during the day, and you had chosen then to venture out into the numerous markets. It was nice to speak with the merchants you knew from your childhood. Some were elders who would watch over you when your father was busy, others were friends who had grown up with you.

“Now what would a little empress want with commoner’s food?” A man’s low timbre voice asked behind you.

Turning your head, you saw Macrinus standing before you with a curious grin. You mirrored it. “That’s not an appropriate title for me.”

“Ah, you are correct.” He nodded. “My apologies, ‘Lady with The Golden Mouth’. Or do you prefer ‘Rome’s Delight?’.”

“You may call me whatever you wish if you’d like.” You forced a laugh and turned back to the merchant you had known since you were a babe. “I’ll take a sack of wheat and small bag of garlic, Gaius.”

“Of course, lady Julia.”

Not even a childhood friend could say your real name. A tight smile formed upon your lips when he turned to sack the wheat before you. Macrinus spoke again.

“You still didn’t answer me about why you’re exactly here.”

“I am not an empress.” You turned to him. “I am not a queen from another realm, I am not even a lady. I am a lowly whore that was fortunate enough to be chosen by the emperor. I like to keep my own schedule from before, so I am aloud to bake my own bread.”

He hummed. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

Gaius handed you the sack of wheat and garlic, and you held out three silver coins. He shook his head. “No, just a copper-.”

“-Please.” Was all you said.

He hesitated, then took them from you, smiling. “May Fortuna rain a thousand blessings upon your head.”

“And unto you as well.” You curtsied and turned on your heel to leave.

Macrinus walked beside you. “How generous you are.”

“I try to be.” You decided to change the topic. “You are in charge of Hanno, are you not?”

“I certainly am, why do you ask?”

“Just out of interest.” You shrugged. “There is talk of him being similar to the one Maximus from years ago. Many admire him already and it has only been a day.”

Macrinus laughed. “It is my duty to entertain the people. I noticed though that you are more prudish of the games.”

“I must admit, I am not used to the violence.”

“A sheltered girl?”

“Ashamedly so.”

“There is no shame at all. So, it is the Numidian that has captured your affection?” He teased. “How scandalous for the young empress to fall for a slave.”

You chuckled. “Nothing of the sort, I just find him amusing.”

“Oh, I am more than happy to let you see him alone if you ever so desire. You don’t need to wander upon him at another party.”

Your carefree air fell once he asked that. “I don’t know what you-.”

“-It’s alright.” He interrupted. “There’s nothing wrong with being curious, I am only concerned for your own safety.”

You stood taller, a shy smile upon your lips. “I am capable of taking care of myself, sir.”

“Of course my lady, why else would you be out here in the streets of commoners without a chaperone?”

Purposefully, you turned onto one of the crowded piazzas where the music and laughter was the loudest. You grinned from ear to ear.

“Oh please, don’t tell me you volunteered yourself to keep me safe.”

He laughed. “No, just wanted to say hello.”

You didn’t have time to respond, as one of the performers had recognized you. Ah, a girl that lived in the house across from yours when you were children! You still remembered her name, and after you passed your belongings to Macrinus, she pulled you into the circle of performers, dancing with you.

You laughed the most you had that year; in fact, you swore your bruised your ribs just from the sheer joy you felt. You don’t know how long you danced and sang with those who were your neighbors and friends, but just as you felt your feet begin to give out, Macrinus put his hand on your shoulder.

“I believe you should go back to the palace and rest.”

Nodding, you said farewell to your companions and took the bag of wheat and garlic back from him. “You are right, thank you so much.”

He grinned. “Let me escort you back.”

“No,” you walked ahead of him. “I wish not to bother you anymore. Good day, Macrinus!”

You lost yourself in the crowd, purposefully making it harder for him to follow. Once you were in the palace, you rushed into the kitchen, holding the sack of wheat behind your back, you greeted the cooks and snuck into the small pantry. You set the sack down on a shelf and pocketed two single reeds, along with an onion.

That night, Geta had called you into his chambers. Before going, you had cut the onion and brought it to hover around your eyes. You were crying by the time you were at his door. Immediately, he took notice of your reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

“What is it, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head, only crying more. It was less because of the onion now, and just everything coming down crashing onto your shoulders once more. Geta pulled you into his chambers by your shoulders, sitting you on the bed.

“Tell me now what is bothering you.” He commanded.

You shook your head. “I-I can’t-.”

“-Now, Julia!”

Taking a deep breath, you reached into the pocket of your breast, taking out the two reeds and setting it in his hand. He furrowed his brows.

“I do not understand.”

You took a deep breath. “The handmaids have given me wheat and barley seeds ever since I have arrived. If they grow, then that means…that means I am with child.”

The look on his face spoke it all. You were certain you were dead.

“I-I didn’t know how you would feel, and-and so I-.”

He crushed you in an embrace, attaching his lips to your jaw. “Jupiter has blessed me.”

It was the first time you felt happiness in his presence. Of course, not because of him, but still joy. You returned his embrace, sighing in relief. “You are happy?”

“Happy?” He pulled away, holding your face in his hands. “There is nothing in this world that could sadden me right now. I will have an heir.”

As long as it was a boy (if it were real at all).

You feigned your smile and leaned into his touch. “I am fortunate to give you one.”

“And I am most fortunate to have you.” He laid down and brought you with him.

Perhaps, in another life, he was kind to you and didn’t only value you until you gave him a child. Perhaps you would be in love with him, and he would make you empress

But you weren’t fortunate to be born into that fantasy.

You wished nothing more than to sit with Marcus and Lucilla as you made your way into the emperor’s booth of the Colosseum. The three of you had managed to speak to one another, but only about meaningless things. Still, you just enjoyed their company.

 It would be more exciting that day. A naval battle, the Naumachia. The arena was filled with water and sea creatures you could never even possibly imagine. It was a wonder in and of itself how all the ships managed to fit themselves in the arena.

“Caracalla,” you said to the brother beside you as you were about to take your seat. He looked up upon hearing his name. You handed him the bag filled with garlic. “I finally found some for you.”

He grinned from ear to ear. “And you say that if I mix this with myrrh, I shall be cured?”

“It should treat the lesions on your skin.” You corrected. “This is what I did for my father.”

He died of the same ailment, but Caracalla didn’t ask; simply smiled. “Thank you, dear sister.”

You nodded, sitting down on the arm of Geta’s throne that would have put you in the middle of him and his brother. He wrapped his arm around you.

“You’ve been far kinder these days.” Geta pointed out.

“Perhaps that means I’ll be the most agreeable mother.” You jested, kissing his cheek.

He smirked, and as the man on the far end of the Colosseum began to announce the games, Geta stood up and rose his grail.

“I would like to propose a toast!” He yelled. The crowd fell silent, and you felt your skin crawl away from you. Geta continued. “To the health of wives and to mothers. Especially to my lover, Julia, who carries my son the moment as we speak!"

An eruption of applause and cheers filled the stadium. You blushed upon the praise, and genuinely wanted to hide yourself from the gaze of everyone; especially the ones closest to you. You could feel both Marcus and Lucilla’s eyes on you, attempting to hide their shock and perhaps horror. The worst was that of Macrinus.

He knew. Just from the look of him (or perhaps it was your own paranoia), but he had to have known from the moment you bought the wheat.

Still, they all applauded, and ones the excitement of your supposed pregnancy died down, the enthusiasm for the battle was born.

It was perhaps the one event you could stomach. While you could still clearly see men dying, it wasn’t as horribly bloody as the prior. Were you becoming numb to the cruelty of these games because you were pretending…or were you letting the game invade your head?

As several ships collided within the growing chaos, men would either die from their fellow man or would simply fall into the water and be devoured by beasts you had never seen until then. Your eyes had been following Hanno the whole time, whether purposefully or not.

Words could not describe the terror that had been brought upon you as you saw him aim his crossbow at the booth you sat in.

You did not think the arrow would pierce you, but it did. It longed into your right shoulder, and a cry you had no idea you were capable of making tore through your throat.

Tears blinded your vision, but the screams from the whole arena deafened your ears you could not even hear what Geta was saying to you.

You could barely make out Marcus’ in front of you as he snapped the body of the arrow and then hoisted you into his arms. You’d never been carried like this as a woman; only as a child by your father.

The heat of Rome felt hotter that day as the pain in your shoulder only grew tighter and tighter as if your skin was going to stretch away from you. The next thing you knew, you were laid upon a cold, solid surface, and sound returned to your ears.

“It’s alright, you’re alright.” Geta shushed, brushing your hair. “You’ll be okay.”

Someone stuck their fingers into your wounded shoulder, and you could only scream. A tender hand laid itself on your cheek, and just from touch alone, you knew it was Lucilla.

“Do not touch her!” Geta hissed, swatting her away.

“No, no!” You whined, reaching out and holding onto her.

Lucilla dropped to her knees, kissing every part of skin that was available, mumbling. “I know, I know. This too shall pass, you are stronger than you believe, my dear.”

Then, just like that, you felt the arrowhead leave your body. The pain was still excruciating beyond belief, but all that was left was for your arm to be wrapped in cloth, and to rest.

One of the guards in charge of the gladiators approached you when you were finally able to sit up.

“My lady,” he began. “did you happen to get a look at the man who shot you?”

“She’s only starting to recover!” Geta snapped. “How dare you. She carries my child, and-!”

“-It’s alright, Geta.” You soothed.

You could’ve done it. Told him with full confidence that it was Hanno. There would have been your chance of power; to kill the man who had nearly killed you.

Yet…you were vindictive and wanted to do it yourself.

“I have no memory.” You told him. “It happened so fast.”

How horrible it is that Geta would stop forcing you to pleasure him only when you were supposedly with his child and injured. You assumed that if you were suffering from only one of those ailments, than he still would’ve held you down and used you.

You thought nothing else would happen that night. You would simply speak to one another, pretending to be completely enamored by his existence, and then lie down to sleep.

Of course, that would be too peaceful.

You were awoken gently, to your surprise, by Geta shaking you. Humming, you rubbed your eyes. “What is it?”

“The general and his whore wife.” He gritted his teeth. “They planned to kill us.”

You shot right up, forgetting about your injured shoulder, and let out a cry. Geta helped you stand, and that was when you saw Caracalla standing before you, his monkey companion Dundus perching upon his shoulder.

“How-how do we know?” You stammered, not having to feign your terror.

Neither of them answered, and the three of you were led out into the throne room. There before you in their night clothes just as you were, Lucilla and Marcus.

Geta approached them first, seething. “The honor, the dignitas that Rome has bestowed upon you. All this you have forfeited by your treachery. Thanks to the civic virtue of men like Macrinus and Thraex your insurrection has been revealed-.”

 “-Torture me if you want,” Marcus shook his head. “but please, don’t lecture me.”

Geta’s face turned almost as red as his hair. “Your name and deeds will be forgotten, lost to history! You are damned to oblivion!”

“You damn me?” He laughed. “I don’t care. Everything is forgotten in time. Empires fall… and so do Emperors.”

Caracalla rose from his seat, reaching for his brother’s sword. “Why wait? I'll gut him right now!”

Geta grabbed onto him. “Brother! Brother! His death must be public.”

“Public, yes. Hang his entrails from the city gates!” He pointed at Lucilla. “Crucify her!”

“No!”

All eyes fell on you after your outburst. Even you froze in place, feeling bile begin to rise up within you. Geta let go of Caracalla. “‘No?’ You say? What would you have me do then?”

Swallowing thickly, it was hard to speak as tears began to fall. You held your stomach. “Crucifixion is…it’s…”

His face dropped into a scowl. “You aren’t saying I should let them live, are you?”

“No-!”

“-Then which is it?!”

Your voice fell silent as your chest constricted, and you could barely breathe. Your mouth would move, but nothing came out; not even strangled noises of desperation.

“If I may, your grace,” Macrinus stepped forward. “I believe she means to bring equal punishments to the crimes committed.”

Geta furrowed his brow. “I do not know what you speak of.”

“Please, let the rest of them out of the room so I might explain more clearly.’

He considered his words, then turned to his guards. “The criminals to the dungeons, my brother to his chambers, and my love-.”

“-I wish to be alone tonight.” You stated.

The emperor scoffed. “What?”

“The babe.” You began. “I-I have helped many women deliver their children, and what has always caused an early birth is stress. I-I cannot take any-anymore of it, or I fear…”

Finally, he took in the sight of your fearful face. Sighing heavily, he said. “Put my lady in her chambers for tonight.”

“Thank you.” You kissed his hand.

You were led into your own chambers, and once the door was shut, you threw yourself onto your bed and wept. You wept until you were wailing into the night, you wept until your eyes were as red as the sun in the morning, you wept until it hurt to continue to do so…

It was unknown how long you had cried, but the opening of your bedroom door is what alarmed you. Snapping your head over in the direction, you were shocked to see Macrinus.

“The general and his wife’s fate has been decided.” He stated.

You held a pillow to your chest, rubbing your reddened nose. “And what is it?”

“The emperor has chosen to let the gods decide, and Acacius will fight against Hanno tomorrow in the arena.”

“You mean you convinced him to.” You glared.

Macrinus approached you. “May I try some of the bread you have baked, my lady?”

You held no confusion when he asked you that. Surprise, yes; but you knew what he asked. You took a deep breath. “I believe I don’t understand.”

“The wheat you bought only days ago.” He reminded. “You said you would bake your own bread. Surely, you didn’t use it as false proof of you carrying the emperor’s heir?”

You didn’t dare look at him. Even when he laid his hand on our back, rubbing circles over your nightdress. “I wish to help you, my child. You must be willing to help me first.”

That was why he also didn’t alert Geta of your betrayal…unless, he had no idea of your alliance with Marcus and Lucilla.

“What is it that you want?” You asked.

“All in time.” He soothed. “I wish to give you the privilege to speak to someone.”

You finally looked at him, your eyes wide. “General Acacius?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I am unable to escort you to the dungeons below the palace. Yet, I can take you to the pit of gladiators.”

“It is easier for you to take me out of the palace than below it?”

“Take you to the man who nearly overthrew the emperors?” He chuckled bitterly. “Not possible. I cannot grant you the gift to say goodbye, but I can allow you to bargain for his life.”

You blinked. “Hanno?”

“Correct.”

“How can I leave the palace at this hour, after what has just happened?”

“You underestimate the silence men will take when it is weighed in gold.” He tutted. “I can only give you ten minutes with him. Will you go or not?”

You were forced to decide quickly…This could be your chance. He had nearly took your life the other day, and the pain in your shoulder was just a growing reminder of that. If he were dead…there was no way you could overtake him.

Yet, you learned that, in a world of men, you didn’t have to be stronger than them: Only smarter, and faster.

“I will go.”

You had hidden a kitchen knife under your bed the moment you had your own chambers. Geta had gifted you several colorful ribbons he loved to see you wear in your hair. He perhaps did not expect you to tie one around your waist under your gown, securing the knife.

Macrinus led you swiftly from the palace to the gladiator pit, which was thankfully not a long walk. You ignored the stares and intrigued calls from the other men as you treaded the halls. You were stopped by a door. Macrinus didn’t even warn Hanno who stood shirtless in his cell, only opened the door and let you enter.

“I’ll rattle the door when it’s time.” That was all he said and left.

Hanno didn’t even seem alarmed. “And what is Rome’s Delight doing here?”

Your blood boiled upon seeing him, yet you remained calm. “I have come to make a bargain; a plea.”

That was when the puzzlement appeared on his face. “And what is that?”

“The man you will fight tomorrow, you must spare him.”

“Why should I?”

Your grief and despair had made itself known to everyone around you for the past few days; yet, in that cell, only with Hanno as your witness, did he see your rage.

“He is the one who saved my life when you meant to steal it!”

The only change you saw in him was his jaw clenching. Other than that, nothing. “The general?”

You only nodded.

He sighed, brushing past you and shaking the door. “Macrinus!”

“What are you doing?” You hissed.

“I will not have you waste your breath on that man.”

“I will give you anything you desire.”

Hanno faced you. “Then you can deliver his head on a platter for me.”

You gawked as he walked away.  “What have I ever done to you?”

“What?”

“Do you truly hate me that much?!” You turned back to him, getting closer. “Kill the man that is the reason I am still here?”

The last thing you thought you would hear left his lips: A laugh. No, not a genuine one. One that you yourself have released on multiple occasions when you have been in disbelief.

“You truly believe everything that happens is because of you?” He taunted. “Has the emperor been filling your mind with so many delusions of grandeur, you can no longer conceive a world where you are not the center of it?”

“Is it so difficult for you to answer my question because you are a fool, or because you wish to not admit it?” You hardened your tone.

“What is your question, my empress?”

“Why did you shoot me?!”

“The arrow was not meant for you!”

You felt your shoulders drop upon the confession. Your aggression ceased only because of your bewilderment.

“Then who?” You asked.

He backed away. “The general you so wish to defend.”

“Whatever it is that he has done, it can be solved with-.”

“-He murdered my wife.”

Hanno said it so easily. No pain, no rage, nothing. It was a fact, and that was what he wanted you to know.

And how stupid you had been. No one in all of Rome was pure of heart; including Marcus. He was a war general; how could you think he wouldn’t have committed sins against the innocent?

“Why so silent, my lady?” He asked. “Are you in disbelief that he has enemies?”

“I didn’t know that.” You admitted.

“That the general is too a monster, or that he killed the only thing in my life worth living for?”

“And that is your desire?” You prodded. “Take his life so that he may die knowing his wife will be ravaged by wolves?”

When he charged at you, you barely had enough time to reach in your dress and unsheathe your knife. Hanno stopped himself just in time for the tip to kiss his chest. Nothing to cause any more harm than a scratch.

Even though you were not the one hurt, you breathed as if you were. He stared down at you as you shrunk under his gaze, and the two of you remained frozen. That is, until he grabbed both your wrists, and rose them above your head.

“I am only merciful because the general still breathes.” He spoke so only you could hear. “If your bastard of a lover had put him to the sword this night you chose to visit me, you would be dead before you could scream.”

Your nose was an inch from his, that was how close he stood to you. His breath caressed your skin, and you turned away in disgust. He let go of your empty wrist, yet still held the one with the dagger.

“Did you believe you could kill me tonight?” He asked, yet you said nothing. Hanno then brought the dagger to his breastbone, angling it upward. “Do not stab head on; stab up.”

Silence and an iron gaze was your reply.

He then hovered it to the pulse point of his neck. “If you want a quick death, right here; with a thinner blade, preferably.”

Then, he placed the tip just above his brow. “If you need information out of a rat, and you have the stomach to do so, drag it across. It will make the mightiest of men cry like a child in the night.”

“You are clever and a skilled warrior,” you finally said. “what is it you want me to tell you?”

“That you will leave it up to the gods and to me if your general lives or not.”

“But I cannot.” You dared to dig the blade just a little into his skin, and his breath hitched. “My desire for him to live is stronger than for you to die.”

Hanno finally let go of your wrist, and you immediately retracted the knife from his brow. “So do you wish to try again to kill me?”

“I wish for you to show mercy.”

“Mercy?” He questioned. “Mercy upon the man who pillaged my home and killed my wife? Mercy for the one who has made me a slave?”

“I too am a slave and-.”

“-And?!” He cried. “And there is nothing! You are draped in silks whilst I in chains and are bathed in clear waters while I in blood, yet you say we are the same?!”

You swallowed your anger, knowing it would bring you nowhere. “You entertain the horrid creatures of Rome; I am forced to pleasure the emperor. We perform differently, but we are still slaves.”

“You are with child.” He stated. “Will that child also be a slave though the emperor is quick to claim it is his heir?”

The crackling of the torches in the room only added to the fire th in your soul. If not contained correctly, you would surely burn and take him with you.

 “A child…yes.” You relaxed, folding your hands. “A child that I could command to be Geta’s. Perhaps, if I wanted to have the brothers slaughter one another, I could say it belongs to Caracalla. Or, if I despised you anymore than I do at this moment…I could say that it is yours.”

Hanno’s eyes dropped in recognition, saying softly. “You carry an empty womb.”

You nodded. “It is the same as your honor.”

Moments later, the door behind you rattled, and Macrinus spoke even when you didn’t. “The time is up, my little empress.”

You bowed your head to Hanno, curtsying. “Sleep well.”

He said nothing in reply, and you turned on our heel, leaving the cell. You pulled your hood back over your head as Macrinus led you through the darkened streets of the city.

“Did you get what you came for?” He asked.

“No.” Was your immediate reply. “And I do not know truly what I wanted.”

The day was as blistering hot as the others, yet the stare Lucilla gave you as she was being led into the emperor’s viewing box made your blood turn to ice. There was not a hint of wrath upon her face; there was nothing at all.

She already looked as if her soul had been stolen.

“How does your shoulder fair, dear sister?” Caracalla brushed his fingers over your arm.

A watery smile was upon your lips like second nature. “It still aches, but it heals, thank the gods. And your overall health?”

He sighed. “I do not know how much longer I have upon this earth.”

“Do not say such things.” You squeeze his hands. “If the gods will it, you shall live for another hundred years.”

He kissed your hands that held his. “I hope so, my love.”

Your grin fell upon the title, and Geta immediately sat you down on the chair behind him that was beside Lucilla’s. He gave an apologetic look.

“He only grows more confused by the day.” He caressed your cheek. “You are well?”

You were far from it, but you could not say that. “Your son feels better now.”

Geta smiled, lowering his head down to kiss your womb. “He will need all his strength.”

The announcer on the other side of the arena yelled to gain everyone’s attention. “From the vanquished city of Numidia, the victor of three contests in the Colosseum, the barbarian Hanno!”

You watched as he ran up from the pit, sword in hand. On the other side, you watched at they brought in Marcus. You could barely look at his already beaten figure. The announcer continued. “Will challenge General Marcus Acacius for his treason against the lives of the Emperors and the enemy of the State!”

The two approached one another on the sandy field. Even from where you sat, so close to them, you could barely make out the look in their eyes. You assumed their was hatred, but your own eyes must have deceived you, because you swore you saw a hint of regret within Marcus’ own gaze.

You blinked and the battle between the two had begun. It was a different level of insanity at how they fought. Marcus was decades older than Hanno, and yet, there were moments where the Numidian had to keep up with him.

Than, the roles would be reversed.

Blood stained the floor of the Colosseum as they fought. Then, when all feel silent between them, and Marcus could barely stand, his lips moved as he spoke to Hanno, then raised his hand.

He yielded.

The patrons of the arena began to mumble amongst themselves, growing louder and louder. Geta rose to his feet. “Romans! What say you?”

In an instant, choruses begging him to be spared overpowered the few that wanted him to be killed. Geta shut his eyes, raising his hand, and they were silenced.

“The gods have rendered their judgement.”

His thumb pointed downward, and the crowd erupted in dissent. Your heart was forcing itself to beat out of your chest as you could only stare at the sight of Hanno glaring down at the general before him.

He tossed his sword to the side.

You hadn’t even noticed Caracalla stood until you heard him yell. “Kill him, kill him!” Like an angered child.

“Is this how Rome treats its heroes?!” Hanno shouted, staring at the audience all around him and pointing his sword. “If his life has no value, what are yours worth?”

Geta stepped up onto the barrier, balancing between the viewing box and a fifteen-foot drop into the arena. He held his arms out to his side, his sleeves dropping to the ground, and his pale face was red. “The gods have spoken! Kill him!”

From all sides of the stadium, hundreds of archers aimed their bows at the center of the battleground. Yet, none fired. Caracalla jeered.

“In the name of Jupiter, kill him!”

The arrows were released, and they screamed like none other as they fired into the center. As they pierced Marcus’ body, you did not know you had been wailing in fright until Geta had slapped you.

“You mewling cunt!” He cursed. “You wish to weep over the man who nearly had you killed?”

Blood fell upon your tongue from your bruised lip, and you did not dare to look at him nor Lucilla.

“Death will be too good for you!” She cried with all of her heart.

The noise from the crowd died as if the people themselves had done so. Then, just like the confused murmurs when Marcus yielded, the same began to grow and grow into a call of rebellion.

It was all in your ears. Lucilla’s weeping, the curses from the crowd, the panic of the emperors…but you stood absolutely still.

With hooded eyes, they drifted up to see that Geta stood just on the edge of the barrier, his back turned to you. Your gaze fell to the ground below you, and it was only then you realized how high up you truly were.

You do not know who or what willed you to, but you then looked at Hanno still the center, covered in blood. As if he knew what you would do, he shook his head.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Macrinus grabbed your arm roughly when you took one step towards Geta.

The emperors turned to him upon his appearance, and Macrinus loosened his grip on you before saying. “For our safety’s sake, we should leave.”

“Yes.” Geta stepped down, wrapping his arms around you. “We should.”

You never knew there was a safe house in Rome until you were forced into it. Perhaps that was the reason for it being a safe house, so that no one knew of it. Yet, apparently, almost all of the roman citizens found it that night. Or, they were simply rioting wherever a free patch of land was.

The cries played in your ears despite them being behind heavy walls of the safe house, and you dared not to peek out the windows as the several fires would temporarily blind you. In the house was you, Macrinus, Dondus (Caracalla’s pet monkey, although he’d call him his other half), and the twin emperors.

“How is the babe?” Geta asked as you sat with your head hanging low.

Of course he would ask that. You didn’t look at him. “He is in fear for his life.”

“I understand,” he sighed. “but there-.”

“-But what?” You finally looked at him, hissing. “Chaos has fallen upon the city because of your actions.”

“There was nothing else to do.” Geta glared at you. “He and his bitch were plotting to kill us! If I’d let him live-.”

“-Don’t you hear them?” Caracalla cried out from his seat, holding Dondus. “They’re calling for our heads! She is right, you brought this upon us!”

Geta placed his hands on him. “Calm yourself, brother. The Praetorians will put down this crowd like they have others-.” The money upon Caracalla’s shoulder chirped out in anxiousness from the people outside. “Keep the ape still!”

“Beware of how you speak to Dondus!” His brother berated.

“Perhaps,” Macrinus finally intervened. “you should take Dondus and Julia elsewhere. The noise outside is too much for them; you should comfort one another someplace quieter.”

Caracalla nodded, gathering up Dondus and moving to help you stand, but Macrinus reached his hand out first. You took it, and as you stood, he said into your ear.

“I will find you on the right side of the hall.”

This was not the time nor place for riddles, but you could not react in any sort of way. You looped our arm through Caracalla’s and walked out of the room, hoping to find somewhere quieter.

“I’m afraid,” you confided in him, truthfully.

“I am as well.” Was all he could say.

You stopped in the middle of the hall once he found an open door. “I…I need time with my own thoughts. Please.”

He nodded, cradling Dondus closer to his chest before entering the room, shutting the door tightly. Within the minute, you watched as Macrinus approached you from the other side of the hall.

You spat. “What do you want?”

“I know I stole your moment of vengeance, and for that, I apologize.” He stood before you. “But let me make it up to you.”

“How could you possibly?”

From his cloak, he brandished a knife, holding the handle out to you. You took it without hesitation, yet question was still upon your face. “I do it myself?”

“You could,” he shrugged. “or, you could have his own brother do so.”

“Caracalla? He is senile.”

“Then I have a proposition for you.” Macrinus pointed to the door Caracalla was behind. “Convince him that Geta will destroy all of you if he is not disposed of. Convince him that, as the new emperor of Rome, he will need more trusting subjects. I shall be his second in command, and you shall be free.”

You furrowed your brow. “Who shall be first?”

“The monkey.” He smirked. “Do you believe he would put me above him?”

It sounded so simple; too simple. Yet, as the crowd began to die down, and you could no longer hear their protests from outside, the quietness brought to you what you had always known: You would never be your own person again so long as Geta breathed.

You held the dagger to your heart, saluting him. “I shall do my duty.”

He nodded. “May the gods be with you when you do, Brutus.”

An insult to most, and while it shocked you, you took it in stride as you stood outside the door. You made yourself look smaller, more afraid, and hid the dagger within your cloak as you entered the room.

There, sitting upon the floor, was Caracalla and Dondus. Like a scared child, he held the monkey close to him, grooming one another as if it was the only thing to bring comfort.

“Caracalla?” You whispered.

He stared up at you, and you noticed he had been crying. Immediately, you sat before him, bringing him into your arms.

“Nothing was ever mine.” He cried, embracing you. “Everything was ‘ours’, always. Even in the womb, he gripped the umbilicus in his tiny fist to deprive me of air.”

“He did?”

“Certainly, one cannot forget.”

You pulled away only to hold his face tenderly in your hands. “You must listen to me, for what I tell you is dire. Your brother wishes to blame you before the Senate; for what happened, for the chaos in the streets-.”

“-That is a lie!” He tore himself from you. “I didn’t do it!”

“I know that, but they don’t. No testimony is more damning than that of a brother against another.”

“He lies! He always lies!” He sobbed.

“He’s very persuasive.”

“What will they do to me?”

“I don’t dare imagine, but…gods above, I don’t wish to know what they will do to Dondus.”

His jaw quivered with the rest of his body. “What-what shall we do?"

You sighed. “I…I have a proposition, but it is most outrageous and-.”

“-Julia,” he begged, grabbing your hands. “dear, sweet sister, please tell me.”

Breath shuttering, you reached into your cloak and held the blade out to him. “Slay your brother tonight. You shall be crowned the sole emperor of Rome when morning comes, and Dondus, the child I carry, and I will be safe.'

He took it, yet still had that look of terror. “This…It has always been he who led everything. I do not know who to trust or-or who to command.”

“Then let me-.” You stopped yourself, eyeing the monkey that lay at his legs. You held your hand out to him, and Dondus climbed into your arms. “Let us help you. Claim Dondus as your first in command, and I your second.”

You wished the same as Lucilla and Marcus; to have Rome be a free empire. Yet, you would have to free Lucilla yourself before that happened.

Caracalla nodded yet said. “You-you are with child. You will become delirious as time progresses.”

And he was the epitome of having a clear mind.

“I will need a third.” He settled.

You shook your head. “That has never been done before-.”

“-I will be emperor!” He screamed. “If it is to be done, it shall be done!”

Raising your hands in surrender, you pleaded. “It shall, it shall! For a third…Macrinus. He has been loyal and informed us of the general’s betrayal.”

“Yes, yes Macrinus will do.” He grabbed your face and pressed his lips against yours. It didn’t even truly feel like a kiss, yet it shocked you nonetheless. “You are the wisest woman I have ever met, dear sister.”

You nodded, forcing a smile. With that, he stood on his feet and left the room. IT would have been easy to stay in there and wait for his return…

Yet, you wanted to be the last thing Emperor Geta saw.

No fear toiled within your body as you approached the throne room, not even when you hear the cries that you knew belonged to Geta. You walked through the doors, watching as Geta held his hands up in fear, begging his brother to spare his life as he was forced onto his knees, trying to stop the knife in Caracalla’s hand.

“I love you!” Geta squealed, staring up at him through tears “You are my brother, I love you!”

You moved to stand behind the younger twin, glaring at the man before you. Geta’s eyes dropped in relief.

“My love, my love, please help me!”

There was nothing uncertain about how you grabbed Caracalla’s hand that held the dagger. With eyes unblinking, you guided the blade into Geta’s throat, pushing it further and further as blood drained from his mouth.

The emperor was dead, and you would sleep like a child once more that night.

There was something inside of you when you awoke that morning. Not the child you had lied to all of Rome about; it felt like a parasite. You threw up an hour after you woke up, but when you checked with the healers, they said that there was nothing ailing you.

Was it…guilt? No, no it could not be.

Was it possible to feel guilt for the act of killing someone, but not feeling it for who was killed?

You had no time to debate these issues as if you were a philosopher.

Dressed in your finest silks, you made way into the room where the hundreds of senators met, carrying a hefty sack beside you. You sat in a chair next to Macrinus.

“You have done well.” He said softly.

You smiled. “Only because of you.”

Your gaze turned to Caracalla, who sat in one of the two thrones that were there for him and Geta. He looked like the worst you had ever seen him be. A blood rag had been placed at his feet.

“Now I am the only one.” He began, voice low. “I was the true us, and he was the false me. We were always ‘we,’ all our lives, but now I am only I, me, alone.”

The senators look at one another in silent terror. The only ones to not feel fear were you and Macrinus.

Caracalla continued. “My hand held the blade, but my father’s hand guided mine. I was the puppet, dancing on his string. As Emperor, I have convened the Senate to appoint my First Consul and bestow upon him the power to administer the military and civic functions of the Empire.”

He tossed his hand to the second thrown, revealing his fury companion. “I name Citizen Dondus!”

Where the senators were beyond terrified, they were now confused. Macrinus was the first to rise, applauding. “Hail Dondus!”

You repeated his sentiment, clapping with vigor. Caracalla and the rest of the mortified senators applauded all repeating ‘Hail Dondus!’.

Once the excitement died down, Caracalla resumed. “As is custom, I am naming a Second Consul to advise the First and to assure his integrity. Though you will find that Dondus is incorruptible! As Second Consul, I name…”

Macrinus took one step forward.

“The mother of the future heir to the throne, Julia!”

All eyes fell upon you, standing taller than you ever had done in your life. How strange it was though, that the same reaction to a monkey being assigned first in command, was to you, a woman.

Utter silence, until Caracalla applauded enthusiastically. Like sheep, the senators followed; all but Macrinus.

“Yet, as mother to the heir,” the emperor said after finishing. “it is apparent she shall be incompetent for majority of her advising. So, for the first time in the history of Rome, I name Citizen Macrinus as my third!”

Even with this third twist in a counsel, the senators seemed more so relieved at the decision. Macrinus did not smile or even acknowledge the honor, simply stared ahead. Caracalla gathered Dondus in his arms.

“There will be a triumphal parade to celebrate. There will be games and mass executions! Long live the Empire!”

“Long live the Emperor!” You and the senators all yelled.

The Emperor Caracalla carried the First Consul Dondus sweepingly out of the hall, to the Senate’s terrified silence. You picked up the sack that had been beside you this whole time, then making your way to the center of the room.

You opened the sack, and out fell Geta’s decapitated head. The Senate gasped and gagged at the sight of the former emperor’s head. You almost felt sorry for the horror they felt that whole time. Yet, there horror is what would bring you fortune.

“This is what befell your emperor.” You pointed to the head at your feet. “He was slaughtered by the one who shared a womb with him. Tell me, senators, is this who we must trust to maintain the greatness of the Roman Empire?”

They did not glance at one another in uncertainty; no, no they were listening to you.

You continued, your heart stammering. “I am not the one who will stand with you for the rest of my days, it is the son I carry within me. And if it is my son who will become emperor, then there must still be an empire for him once he is born. Hysteria has poisoned the streets for decades now, it is time to put an end to it!”

Murmurs and nods of approval began to echo amongst the counsel.

“Every single one of Rome’s children matters; from the beggars to the emperor himself. If one falls, so shall the rest of the Empire. I have walked beside the lay people of the city, and they feel betrayed by the former emperor for the murder of their beloved general. To right this wrong, I call for the release of Lucilla, daughter of Marcus Aurelias.”

Not one of the hundreds of senators made a sound. Deep within you, you knew that there wouldn’t be much rejoicing over Lucilla’s freedom, but you still had to try.

“The people adored her for far longer than they adored the general!” You pleaded. “If we kill her only for the amusement of the elites, then the children of Rome-!”

 “-Shall live.”

You turned to Macrinus, who finally stepped all the way forward.

“Forgive me,” He bowed mockingly. “my lady, but for a woman complimented to have a golden mouth, you have no idea what you are saying.”

A few of the senators chuckled.

“You wish to free the woman who mean to have you, and the emperors killed?” He questioned.

You refuted. “I wish to show the world that Rome is capable of forgiveness.”

“A desire so foolish, only the emperor’s favorite whore could have it.”

“Another word of slander out of your mouth, and I will have your tongue removed!” You stood toe-to-toe with him.

He grinned like the devil, and just from your outburst alone, no matter how warranted it had been, he had you. Macrinus stepped away, looking around at the senators.

“Me thinks the little girl believes she is Marcus Aurelius himself born again.” He straightened his tone. “What say you, senators? All in favor of releasing a traitor to the Empire, speak.”

Not one of them said ‘aye’. If you weren’t under a sheer amount of duress, you would’ve seen perhaps a few faces of inner turmoil, debating on calling for Lucilla’s release.

Yet, no one said a word because they shared the one thing that will contribute to the death of humanity: Cowardice.

Macrinus tutted. “Now, dear Julia and I happen to have, through good fortune and not a little skill, the remaining emperor’s ear. We can speak reason in it and tame the madness in the street. Yet, I will leave the domestic work of calming the emperor to his second in command. As for myself, to restore order to Rome, I will need power over the affairs of the state. Including command of the Praetorian Guard. The decision is in your hands. Ballot or hand?”

One hand rose immediately. Another followed, then ten, then thirty, and then, all of them. He provided no evidence for his cause…yet there was a unanimous decision.

Macrinus held his hand out to you, and you could only stare up at him in question.

“I believe we shall take the seats that are rightfully ours.” He said lowly.

Carefully, you slipped your hand into his, and he led you up the stairs to sit upon the chair that belonged to Geta, while he took Caracalla’s.

This would be the first and the last time a woman ever sat upon the emperor’s throne.

After being embarrassed that morning, you paced around your chambers. Perhaps you could have found Caracalla and gave him the same reasonings the senate did not listen to. Perhaps he could somehow see to the logic that would be in setting Lucilla free.

No, of course he wouldn’t. Even if his mind was sound, he still knew she was apart of the coup to try and have him dethroned; killed in his mind’s eye.

As your mind grew heavy with existential possibilities towards the future, the door to your chambers opened. Stopping where you stood, you watched as Macrinus entered.

“Now, try to make me understand this," he shook his head. "I let you have your vengeance on the man who used you as a slave, I promised you freedom, and yet you wasted it.”

You clenched your jaw. "How dare you-."

“-How dare I?” He tensed his voice. “How dare I keep silent about your lie? How dare I give you the privilege to take your revenge? I have saved you more than you believe I have harmed you, lady Julia."

The name had always bothered you, but with one emperor dead and the other incapacitated, you assumed it would stop.

Now, it only enraged you more; or perhaps that was just because it was Macrinus saying it.

You glared. “It was your own mistake to believe you were the only one who desired power.”

He took a deep breath, then moving to sit on your bed. “Sit beside me, Rome’s Delight; I have a story to tell you.”

“I am not a child, you may tell me in short.”

“You are not the only slave wishing to be free.” He pulled back the collar of his clothing, revealing a branded ‘M.A’ “You are lucky enough to not carry your master’s mark, but were a slave nonetheless. Marcus Aurelius spoke of peace while still using violence against those who served him.”

Swallowing your pride thickly, you said. “I’m sorry.”

“You have learned now, that is all that matters.”

“But Lucilla will still be dead.” You tried to keep your voice steady. “She wanted the emperors to be gone as much as you, but she will-."

“-Her father enslaved me.”

“Her father is dead; and if taking his empire wasn’t enough, than killing his last child will satisfy you?"

Macrinus clutched your arm, fingers tightening with every word. “I would be careful with how you speak to me. I wish to offer you one last ounce of kindness before I regret it. Now tell me, Brutus, will you accept me as Rome’s new emperor?”

You had all the right to say it was Caracalla, but you thought better of it. So, with the softening of your entire person, you nodded. “I accept you.”

He dropped your arm. “I’ll let you say goodbye this time.”

Macrinus led you down into the dungeons of the palace, and he was right; somehow it was more heavily guarded than the gladiator pit. Even when the worst of the worst prisoners sneered or jeered at you, your sorrow and anger could not stir your fear.

The door to one of the cells was open, and you ran in just as Lucilla turned to see you.

“Five minutes.” Was all Macrinus said before locking the door and leaving.

You embraced one another when he left. Neither of you said anything, just clung to each other as if the world itself would tear you apart.

“Forgive me, mother Lucilla.” You choked up.

Lucilla pulled away, taking your face into her hands. “Sweet child, there is nothing to forgive.”

“I failed you.” The tears finally came. “I was right there in the senate’s room, I-I told them the chaos that would befell Rome if-.”

“-You were in the senate’s room?” She sounded as if her breath had been stolen.

You nodded. “Yes, but they wouldn’t listen!”

“My dear girl,” she smiled. “if you were able to even get half a sentence in, than they listened! My father but sixteen years ago said that it was a shame I had been born a women, for I would have been a magnificent emperor. Yet, here you stand; you who had been once a slave, rose above into having a sear in the senate council.”

Still, no matter how much pride she held, your own shame outweighed it. “I still have failed you.”

“I have already accepted my fate.” She whispered. “I must take care of those who matter to me before I leave this earth.”

“Do not say such things!” You cried. “I’ll still find a way to save you.”

“Hanno is my son.”

You expected her to deny your attempts at rescuing her, you even expected her to coddle you, curse you…but this?

“What?” You uttered.

“He is Lucius Verus Aurulius,” she said gently. “second of his name, but the first son of Maximus Decimus Meridius.”

“The-the gladiator?” Was somehow the first question you asked.

“Yes.” She nodded. “Lucius didn’t run away, I sent him. With him as heir to the empire, I know many would not rest until he was dead. How was he to fight for a claim he knew nothing about? Now, he is here; and I am no longer frightened of dying.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to!”

She shushed you, combing her fingers through your hair. “I can speak to you until the earth is burnt by the sun of how I have made peace, but I know that will not work. So, I have two final requests for you.”

“Anything.”

Lucilla walked to the small desk she had in her cell, then picking up a scroll loosely wrapped in twine. She handed it to you. “My first is to give this to my son before tomorrow. It…explains a great deal of things I do not have the time to say to him.”

You took it, holding it to your heart. “And the second?”

She smiled, wrapping her arms around you and kissing the side of your head. “To take care of him as I intend him to take care of you.”

It was not the first time that day your eyes had grown. “He despises me.”

“If the gods are merciful, then I truly believe you will both come to see eye to eye as the only two who remain.”

“I nearly killed him.” You admitted. “The night before his duel with Acacius, I brought a knife with me and stabbed him; well…not enough to harm him.”

Lucilla shook her head, giggling. “He will need someone who disagrees with him.”

You found yourself laughing along with her, even through your sobs. She pulled away from you, wiping your tears. “He is a good man. He may deny it but believe me when I tell you.”

“I trust you.” You nodded.

She took a deep breath. “I will be with you, even when I’m gone.”

“I…I know.”

“Now go before I beg you to stay.”

You forced yourself away from her before you could change your mind. You could not even look at her as you left her cell and went up the hall. Just in time, you remembered to hide the scroll as Macrinus approached you.

“Leaving so soon?” He asked.

Sighing, you said. “She’s…inconsolable. I couldn’t bear another moment with her.”

Macrinus nodded. “You should rest for the remainder of the day. It has been quite exhausting.”

“Yes,” you agreed. “it certainly has.”

It was the first time that night you were forced to sneak out of the palace on your own. Fortunately, you remembered the route you took to the Gladiator pit and managed to dodge any of the guards on patrol that night.

The pit proved to be more difficult as the overseers of it had less space to watch over, yet you still somehow managed to maneuver them.

Perhaps the gods were on your side.

“Hanno.” You whispered once you found his cell.

The man turned over his shoulder once he heard your voice and approached with a scowl. “What are you doing here?”

You wasted no time, holding out the scroll. “Your mother told me to give you this.”

He paused for only half a beat. “My mother died when-.”

“-Your mother is Lucilla, daughter of Marcus Aurelias.” You whispered fiercely. “And you are Lucius, the lost son.”

His eyes didn’t leave yours as he reached down to the latch of the door, and cracked it opened. “Get inside.”

Though you wished to, you didn’t question how he had unlocked it and only walked in. He shut the door tightly, then took the scroll from you. You stood there as he unraveled it to read. His face changed every few seconds, ranging from distress to downright confusion. When he was finished, he looked at you.

“She gave this to you?” You nodded. “Why?”

“I was allowed to say goodbye to her.”

“From Macrinus?” He tested. “Was this before or after you attempted to steal his power?”

“I was cruel to you.” You admitted. “Even after discovering Acacius had pillaged your home and murdered your wife, I expected you to show mercy. I am astounded you did, but as I look back, I wouldn’t have blamed you if you didn’t. My desire for the general to live extends to your mother; if not more. She did not give up my name at any moment despite the fact I too was apart of the coup to try and overthrow the emperors. I cannot simply let her die.”

Lucius stared at you, his gaze intimidating yet at ease. He approached you. “You wish to save her life?”

“More than anything.”

“It is a rumor that Macrinus was the one to puppeteer Caracalla in slaying his brother. But…it wasn’t him, was it?”

Breathing deeply, you looked at the floor. “It was I.”

“Look at me.” He commanded softly, and you did. “Would you kill again if it meant protecting her?”

Your mind said ‘yes’ without a moment’s hesitation, but your heart only sunk into your stomach at the thought. It must have been apparent on your face, for he said.

“There is no shame if you are unable to.”

“I will be with him in the emperor’s box.” You said, determination in your eyes. “I will simply need you to buy me time in the arena. It shall be done.”

Lucius nodded, and released along breath before saying. "I treated you harshly. I...I don't believe I would have survived what you have been put through."

You picked at your fingers. "I think you would have."

"No." He solidified. "I wouldn't."

A silence fell between the two of you. There wasn't a hint of discomfort; as if, for the first time, you felt seen.

“You never told me your name.” Lucius uttered.

You pressed your lips together, shrugging. “It was never important.”

“It has been,” he said. “and it is now. You know my true name, if I am to understand you as how my mother wishes I do, then I must know yours.”

Your mouth parted to speak the first syllable, but even that had felt foreign. You instead lied. “I do not remember it.”

As he looked at you, the steely gaze you always knew began to disappear. “You must remember how it sounded from your mother’s mouth.”

“She died before she could hold me.”

“Then your father.” He walked closer to you, yet you felt no fear. “It does not matter if he was wretched or kind, he spoke your name and your name alone. What did it sound like?”

Like he loved you. Even when he was cross, he never raised his voice. You hated more than ever how tears started to build within your eyes.

“Geta had beaten me until I could no longer use it.” you confessed. “It will feel like poison upon my lips.”

“Then whisper it to me so you will scarcely have to move them.”

You had been lain down on a bed and had every bit of a man touch and invade your body. Even before the emperor, you had lain with people in the past of your choosing…

But none of that amounted to the intimacy you felt in that cell as Lucius stood nearly chest-to-chest with you, hovering his ear over your mouth as you finally (finally) spoke your name aloud.

If the heat of his body lingering over yours did not set your entire being aflame, it was the breath he released once he said.

“It’s a kind name.”

It was all too much for you, so you pulled away from him, drying your eyes. “I…I will pray for your safety.”

He outheld his hand to you. “Strength and honor.”

A saying you had overheard people use as they entered the stadium. You shook his hand. “Strength and honor.”

You didn’t expect to be in the parade Caracalla raved about the day prior. Yet, there you were, draped in the finest and most colorful silks with jewelry in your hair. Inside your sleeve, you’d hidden the same kitchen knife you attempted to stab Lucius with.

You were sat beside Caracalla, who had Dundus upon his shoulder, and who had only grown more delusional since the day prior.

“Where is my brother?” He pulled on your sleeve like a child as you were escorted from the float and into the Colosseum.

A watery smiled pulled upon your lips, and you soothed him. “He feels most unwell today.”

“He should be here.” He sulked as you walked. “He would be happy for me.”

“And he is.” You lied. “You will see him again shortly.”

That managed to ease him, and you both were seated in the emperor’s box with Macrinus. It didn’t escape your vision how hundreds of Praetorians also circled the entire arena. As the time to the match grew closer, you did your best to calm your own nerves. This would be for the good of Rome. Once it was done, you would be able to rest easily again.

It was then you watched as, on one side of the Colosseum, a wagon was rolled out into the center of it. Tied to a pole, dressed up as if she were Venus herself, was Lucilla. All that attempt at soothing yourself was gone once you saw her eyes.

“Must we kill Lucilla?” Caracalla questioned.

You couldn’t even snidely repeat his question to Macrinus you were in such a state of anxiety. Macrinus responded.

“Until she is dead, you will never know peace.”

Thus, the event commenced. The announcer himself even sounded guilt-ridden as he spoke of the crimes Lucilla was being charged with. Treason, betrayal, all of it only anguished the spectators even more to see her being prepared for execution.

“Let it not be said that the Emperor is not merciful!” He yelled. “The queen will be granted a champion to defend her!”

Out from the other side of the arena came Lucius. Half of the Praetorians held their weapons to the man, while the other half faced the civilians as if expecting them to riot. Once again, at the sight of the scene before them, it would not surprise you.

You had been taught one a many myths by your father, mainly belonging to the Greeks. You were Cassandra; blessed by Apollo to speak of prophecies but cursed to not be believed.

When it seemed that hope was gone…Lucius rose his sword, and hundreds of gladiators sprinted from all sides.

The crowd and Caracalla were in an uproar at the excitement. Pandemonium ensued as the gladiators began to climb the barriers and civilians were attempting to enter the arena. The sound of arrows screaming entered your ears; so much so you could not hear what Macrinus was saying to another man, and why Caracalla was screaming.

You simply blinked, and once your eyes were open, you watched as Macrinus dove a needle into the side of Caracalla’s neck, killing him.

Only a gasp tore through your throat, having no ability to scream. Your body soon found reason to move, and you rose to your feet, remembering your duty. Macrinus had acquired a crossbow, aiming it towards Lucilla and Lucius now at the center of the arena.

You rose the knife from your sleeve, charging towards the man. The arrow was fired, and you leapt upon his shoulders.

He moved wildly, trying to force you off of him. You made attempt to slash his throat, but it made contact with his eye instead.

Still…he overpowered you. Flipping you over him, you dropped down into the arena, your head colliding with the ground.

The sky was orange above you when you opened your eyes. Your head had never felt so awful before, and you were surprised you could even sit up. All around you, bodies littered the Colosseum floor. If there was not blood laid before you, there were swords and shields.

Your eyes drifted to the center, and now sunken to the floor, was Lucilla on her wagon. You forced yourself to stand and walk towards her.

When you could see the arrow sticking in her chest, you began to run.

Climbing atop the wagon, you untied the ropes around her hurriedly.

“Mother,” you begged. “mother, can you hear me?”

“I am still here, sweet child.” She whispered weakly.

“Save your energy now.” You managed to free her, and then pulled her to your lap.

“I will be seeing my beloveds now.” She smiled.

“No,” you hissed. “you are going to live.”

She reassured. “It is alright. I have fulfilled everything that was asked of me, and what I wished for.”

“Mother-!”

“-You will look after him, won’t you?”

You wanted to cry; you wished that sadness was the first thing you felt. But no, it was anger. Still, you nodded. “I will, but you will be there to make sure he takes care of me too!”

“He shall.” Was all she said.

“You will live, just please stop talking.”

“I love you.”

“Lucilla…” Your voice broke.

“Tell Lucius I would do this all again for him.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Lucilla rose her hand to your cheek, brushing it tenderly one last time.

Her eyes were held open as she went limp in your arms. You closed her eyelids, knowing her gaze would haunt you.

You did not move for the first hour, nor did you cry out in despair. It was when the sun was completely gone, and you tore yourself away from her corpse did you collapse into a fit of sobs.

The ugliest sounds were released from your mouth as you could barely stand. You do not know how long you cried, but when you could finally move again, you crawled to the nearest sword, and trailed it behind you before climbing back up onto the wagon.

You tied the rope from her body around her legs, and brought her back into your lap, sword in hand.

There was no rest for you that night. You would nearly drift off into sleep, but you couldn’t bring yourself to give in until you could bury her properly. You also couldn’t bring yourself to bury her at the same time.

When you had lost time altogether, and the sky was purple as twilight broke, a gentle hand shook you.

Raising the sword in surprise, you felt your body relax once you saw Lucius. You should have asked how he survived, what happened to Macrinus, anything else…but all you said was.

“I wouldn’t let anyone touch her.”

He nodded, tears threatening to fall as he gazed upon his dead mother. He took a deep breath. “May I take her?”

You handed her to him, and he took her into his arms. You scooted off the wagon, your eyes reddened and exhausted.

“Where,” you cleared your throat. “Where should she be buried?”

“I…” He heaved. “I know where my father’s grave is.”

“Okay.” Was all you managed.

And you walked by his side, neither of you knowing what your fate would befall in Rome.

Yet…once both slaves, you were now free.

[saphronethaleph]

“...because the council did not trust you, my young apprentice, I believe you are the only Jedi with no knowledge of this plot,” Sidious said, pulling on his cloak.

He frowned. “What are you doing, Vader?”

“I’m going to get proof,” Anakin replied, pressing some buttons on his comlink. “I don’t know if Obi-Wan was involved with the plot, and – I have to know.”

“Don’t-” Sidious began.

The comlink beeped, interrupting him, and Anakin lifted the device to his mouth.

“Obi-Wan!” he said.

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan replied. “Good news – General Grievous is dead. I’ve lost my lightsaber, though.”

Anakin hid a snort. “Right – that’s, uh, really funny. Listen, I’ve got some good news too.”

“You have?” Obi-Wan replied. “Let’s hear it – down, Boga, down! Sorry, Anakin, she’s a bit excited… you were saying?”

“The Chancellor’s dead,” Anakin said, winking at Sidious.

“What?” Obi-Wan asked. “How is that good news – how did he die? I swear, I leave Coruscant for two days-”

“The Jedi killed him,” Anakin explained.

“Why?” Obi-Wan said, sounding completely and honestly baffled. “Which Jedi? I don’t think they could all do it, after the first couple of dozen there simply wouldn’t be any politician left if nothing else – but why would they do that?”

“Because he’s a Sith, I think,” Anakin said, then corrected himself. “Was a Sith, I mean. Because he’s definitely dead now.”

There was silence from the comlink for a couple of seconds, interrupted by a sort of rippling hwaa hwaa sound from some kind of animal, and some blasterfire.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin said.

“I’m sorry, Anakin, you did just drop an extremely large bombshell on me,” Obi-Wan said, sounding quite distracted now. “I’m rethinking the last several years. That means he was behind – he was behind the war, behind the invasion of Naboo, behind the assassination attempts on Padme, behind everything.”

Anakin blinked down at his comlink.

“...that’s… a good point,” he said, slowly, then glanced over at Sidious.

Who wasn’t where he’d been before.

Anakin kept turning, and saw that Sidious had pulled a bookshelf off the wall of his office and was halfway through getting into a concealed escape pod.

The Dark Lord of the Sith froze, staring back at Anakin.

“...there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for all this,” he said, waving his hand.

In hindsight, this would be the last error he would ever make.

Anakin was never one for perfectly reasonable explanations.

“...Anakin? Anakin?” Obi-Wan said, frowning at his comlink. “Anakin, you can’t just tell me something like that and then disappear… or, well, apparently you can but it’s very inconvenient.”

There seemed to be an awful lot of noise coming down the comlink, but none of it made much sense. In fact, it sounded like someone was testing a lightsaber in the middle of a thunderstorm, and Obi-Wan frowned at the little device before nearly losing his grip on it as Boga skidded to a halt next to Commander Cody.

“Sir,” Cody said, with a nod.

“Commander!” Obi-Wan replied. “Contact your troops – tell them to move to the higher levels. We’ll want to clear out this force and then move on Mustafar, though since the Sith Lord is dead that might actually mean this war is over soon.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir,” Cody replied, then tossed Obi-Wan his lightsaber.

Obi-Wan caught it. “Thank you, Commander! I do apologize-”

The comlink crackled again, and Obi-Wan dropped Boga’s reins so he could hold both devices at once without potentially cutting his head off. “Anakin!”

“Sorry about that, Master,” Anakin replied. “Bit of a workplace disagreement. Anyway, uh… Masters Windu, Fisto, Tiin and Kolar are all dead in the fight with the Chancellor. Please send help, there’s not many Councillors left and I don’t want to have to ask Master Nu what a quorum is…”

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, fondly. “I’m sure we’ll be able to rescue you from the deadly perils of procedure. Until then, ask Padme if you need advice.”

He paused.

“Do you have any names picked out yet, by the way? I’m quite partial to the name Ben. It has a nice sound to it, even as a middle name.”

He clicked the comlink off and set it to silent, smiling slightly.

“Getting the last word, General?” Cody asked.

“It’s about the only way I can, with Anakin, I find,” Obi-Wan agreed, pocketing the comlink. “Now, let’s see about clearing those upper levels. Come on, Boga!”

[sashi-ya]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟑 DAY 5: PREGNANCY Kyoraku Shunsui 𝘹 𝘍! 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Requested by: @the-witch-of-one-piece ➡ Hello my beautiful soul sister!!! Ahh I’m so excited for this kinktober! I raced into your inbox trying to calm down my feral kink coming out of me 😂😂 if it’s okay to request Shunsui with a fem reader for day 5 pregnancy! This man would be the best soon to be daddy 🥺💜🛐 thank you so much my beautiful soul sister!!! TE AMO MUCHO !!!!!!! ➡ también te amo mucho my soul sister! 💖 tw: mdni. pregnancy kink. reader IS pregnant. nipple play. semi public sex. humping. vag sex. 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The outcome of so many nights of passion showed beautiful in your body. The little bump growing strong and healthy, your anatomy changing, your mood somethings swinging.

You were preparing yourself, and the house, for the new life that would be there in some months. And while you did, the general captain of the Gotei 13 couldn’t help but praise you.

Sitting comfortably in the garden of the Shunsui manor, the soon to be dad enjoys a sip of his beloved sake. While you, comfortably enjoy gardening under a soft spring breeze. It was calmer than ever before, after all that had happened with the invasion none of you had time to be at peace for a long time.

“You are a goddess, my love” Kyoraku chimes, leaving the cup on a little table next to him.

“Shut up, you! I am getting fat, look…” you joke, you love more than anyone how beautiful your belly looks.

Shunsui stands up, sighing. He can’t let a queen think that way of herself. Walking a few steps towards you, he takes his hat in between his hands and bends over to where you are.

“I am not trying to be rude, so I will ask you to please excuse my language… but fat is how I get down there when I see you, miss” he murmurs, acting innocent despite saying such thing.

You leave the little gardening tool in your hand to look at him with your mouth open.

“Kyoraku Shunsui, would you mind watching your mouth in front of your baby?” you scold him, sweetly, while acting incensed at his words and caressing your belly.

He takes his hat to his naked chest in signs of being sorry, but all of a sudden he snatches in arms as if you where less heavy than a feather.

“Honey- what? What are you doing?!” you protest, while safe resting in his embrace.

“Listen here, the eyes you just gave me… you being pregnant, everything about you… ugh- believe me that the baby won’t tell for now” he says, walking calmly to the wooden swing you have in your garden.

Shunsui sits back, with you still in his arms. Despite your pregnancy he is way bigger than you in every sense.

He grunts and comfortably sits you over his lap. “Com’ere” he purrs, opening your yukata with absolutely no worries.

You are silent, but with a huge smirk on your face. You know what’s next and you want it so bad…

Shunsui seems to be gloating at how full your breasts are looking; pregnancy is making your body an experience he doesn’t want to miss; he wants to love you in every single stage of yourself.

“Allow me, before this belongs to someone else ~” he scoffs, while his hands cups one of your breasts and takes it to his lips.

You moan instantly after he plants the first kiss over your hard nipples. Everything has been feeling a lot more sensitive.

He sucks, slowly. He nibbles, kindly. He doesn’t want to hurt her precious wife nor coming baby.

Your back curls as he keeps playing, changing from breast to breast and sometimes burying his head in between them. His huge hand, lies on your warm back flesh, holding you for you to lie as comfortably as you please while he gives you pleasure.

You can’t help but begin to move back and forth, humping on his hardening crotch. You can feel his growth hitting against your core and in both cases getting wetter and needier. The motions of the swing also accompany yours, edging you two a state very close to climax.

“I…” you whine, urging your husband to fuck you. “Already? But what if I hurt you…?” he asks, knowing too well he won’t. Kyoraku Shunsui enjoys your begging for his dick. He wants you to plead to be penetrated and pleased.

Panting, reaching his lips with yours, needy… “please, fuck me… do it…”

“How do you ask properly, doll?” he asks back, already lifting your hip enough for his hakama pants to slide down.

You swallow. You have always called him “daddy” and now, it won’t be the exception; this time Shunsui deserves more than ever to be called that way.   

“Daddy, fuck me… please ~” you purr, letting your yukata to fall to the ground to show him in full display your beautiful “mommy” body.

He smirks, pleased. His hands first reach for your swollen belly, up and down and around your waist.

“Now, if I may… let daddy fuck you the way you deserve my sweet, beautiful mommy” “Nghh… deeper… go- deeper, daddy!” ~

taglist: @miabiaria @carmenthedreamer @stygianoir @electronicwitchcollection @aizenwifey @deputy-videogamer @efrodd17 @mizugami @uzxotic @cyberdazetragedy @bookandyarndragon 💖

[missmarveledsblog]

The one ( Bucky barnes x reader odindotter)

summary : just the grumpy teddy bear bucky pinning after thor sister that's been there through everything  

warning: none , Bucky being a cutie , John walker being an ass , sam being the best wing man , mutual pining

One person , one singular person was all he wanted to see after it all . after the blip , the war against the mad tyrant and yet he was now staring at the face of a man he loathed , one who didn't deserve to hold the shield his best friend and brother had for a century. John walker stood an ego based attention hog who had the wrong morals and ideal that steve would generally cringe at . even with all this their was one person that occupied his mind , one that could truly make sense of all the craziness that he was now landed in. He walked as johns chest puffed out appearing to make himself so much bigger that he was , the words spilling from his mouth all bullshit and that thing he pass of as charm well a bag of rocks could do better and possibility even smarter . Bucky came to see her , knowing she was the only one that could truly understand what it is like to be in a place so alien and having those feeling of they didn't feel they belong in a sense. She could of been in new asgard with the rest of her people but she like this strange place. What made it funnier was he was actually of this planet and same time if someone told him it was mar or some shit he would actually believe them because still even after everything this didn't feel like earth . He watched her pretending to care , even the scowl of annoyance that grace her face that would of had loki proud. "So i think that why cardio is so important" john finished off the suggestable comment . " you know my brother would love to hear stuff like this" she smiled letting the poor mans hope rise. " although i find it all a bit boring more into the intellect of everything" her head tilted she had the man like a mouse on a string . " i mean yeah science of things but at the end of the day brawn defeat the brain" he chuckled . " i'm a goddess your brawn wouldn't tire me nor my brain" she rolled her eyes clearly done with the conversation scanning the room . " i bet i could tire you out" he winked . " the only way you could tire me out is too keep talking because it kinda putting me asleep" she fake a yawn before adding the stretching her arms to prove her point . " wow you really add to the bitchy princess stereotype" he scoffed. " oh little man i made it" she walked off eyes lighting up when she saw the man before her . " finally someone interesting" she called making the other man scoff.

It wasn't her intention to be bitchy maybe it was having loki as a big brother or the fact the man before her didn't know his ass from his elbow and yet he held something so important in his hands. She could of kept walking , ignored it and she was going to til his mouth opened once more. " really the killer" that sentence that made the fires of hel seem small to how it made her feel. " excuse me you back of the warehouse version of captain america , you wouldn't know the real downfall of earth or it's people . you hold that shield yet don't know one thing it represents nor the man that held it before you and yet you try cast you opinions on someone who went through so much and still stand before us today , if my father was alive he would agree that not one of us would have the same kind of heart and fight if we went through what that man has went through , all that pain and torture that would break you in a click of a finger" she snapped. " doll seriously it's ok" bucky said although someone should told his face with the smile having her defending him . " jame buchanan barnes and many other saved this whole universe and you dare try insult him , that shows you don't deserve that title you parade" she scoffed leaving john walker standing almost speechless . " hey little princess" sam called cutting bucky from speaking. " hello shall we leave or midgard will need a new captain" she smiled brightly . " actually we need your help" sam winked . " i feel like i should say no but lets go" she chuckled .

She sat on the ledge of helicopter watching the idiot well her favourite idiot fall to the ground and sam following after liking the new and improved wings. " you gonna jump out now?" torrez asked in awe and well slightly nervous giving who the woman is before him. " nah idiots forget i could of teleported us" she giggle before she was gone from his sight. Leaning over bucky as he lay out on the ground . " that was very stupid" she smiled holding her hand out. " well i mean i got down didn't i" he smirked back up at her. " your an old man it's quite dangerous" she laughed . " how old are you again" he shot back. " times different i mean in earth human years i'm only what twenty five" she tapped her chin . " wait so how old was loki when you know tried taking over earth " sam came to their side. " earth years sixteen" she walked off causing sam mouth to get louder at the new found knowledge . " your telling me grown ass loki , destroying new york with his alien ass army was 16 earth years old " . " yeah i mean time was something that many asgardians had to get use to being here" she shrugged. " i like it better when you where the thousand year old princess" bucky teased. " so you didn't feel like a creep my little pinning buck" sam whispered she heard it yet kept walking pretending to be oblivious to sam's constant teasing . " no but seriously loki was sixteen" sam asked making her roll her eyes . which led to her spending the rest of the time trying to explain the time differences and space and time which was probably a waste of her time as he began asking to convert their fellow avengers ages to asgardian . which then she used to tease him then turning it around. " so would it make you feel better after losing to parker" she smirked watching his face fall. " we didn't lose" bucky spoke up . " yeah redwing came in" sam added. " so redwing did, what you couldn't" she smiled. " no no now don't spin this" sam huffed. " well i mean you're so concerned with ages" she smiled. " here's me thinking you were sweet and soft like thor but your like loki" sam chuckled . " i mean me and loki did get to chat a lot , great teacher glad he left something behind " she smiled softly as sam realised his words . " shit i didn't , sorry really y/n" he began rambling . " it's ok really lets get going" she walked ahead only for bucky to slap sam at the back of the head. " bird brain, and stop with the remarks she finds out i love her well i'm screwed i love my best girl " he hissed.

Even after all this time it was so hard , so stressful and completely heartbreaking to even think of her brother . loki and thor was all she had after her parents life had perished and granted she still have thor but through everything knowing once and for all that loki was truly gone , well sometimes it can take longer for a heart to heal after so much loss especially when your not fully over the others before it. The rest of the trip it was like she was somewhere else from the taunts of zemo to the fake disguise of the winter soldier it seemed as though the whole thing was getting worse bringing back scars for them all to the surface. All mentally dealing with something that was bigger then themselves . all dealing with pressures or ghost of their own past . he could see in her eyes thinking of all they lost , close friends and family behind the eyes he could stare into all day . she been around through it all , from when steve found him the first and second time . the day he pulled him from the river when she promised to take care of steve , through the battle of the airport, on the run while he was in wakanda she stayed learning how they did it and being the friend he needed. To the war how she held them all up loss after loss , she lived through the blip trying to find a way to get them back , a way to stop the mad tyrant and he wonder in that time was he on her mind like she would of been on his if the role were reversed. She would give her all for those she loved and still felt like she needed to give more it was another reason to add to that ever growing list of why he loved her .

Then now here they were louisiana celebrating the new captain america , the right choice , the one he couldn't agreed more not that he would admit that out loud . although he wish sam would shut up about y/n odinsdottir . he didn't want to scare her off being his friend , the whole time when everything was wrapped up in a bow it's all the new cap could bring up . he watched her laugh and play with the children , how even thought the sun was shining her smile was even brighter . " you know instead of still doing the whole mean steamy stare you could actually do something about it" sam nudged him playfully as sarah looked to the two. " oh if you don't i will" she winked . then the laugh got louder as he watched her walking towards him eyes locked on his and that damn smile that made him melt like a puddle. Her hand coming to his face , cupping his cheeks before her lips on his . " you know i can hear you both no matter how much you whisper" she winked turning to walk off only to feel his hand to wrap in her pulling her flush to his chest . " and you left it til now cruel doll" he smirked leaning forward . " hey girl can only wait so long plus again it's not like i didn't give you chances all these years " batting her lashes leaning up to kiss him once more only for clash of thunder shot through the sky making them jump apart. " he got the girl , my man buck nasty got the girl" sam cheered . " he always had the girl" she kissed him once . the one he wanted to see the most was truly and finally his ,his peace and his girl. 

[henrioo]

✦ ── ANYTHING FOR YOU: SHANKS

Part one — Parte two

Child! Shanks x Child! Reader ( x platonic! Edward Newgate)

Synopsis: "A confusing encounter with a red-haired child ends up changing his day completely."

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,6k

Notes: Pronouns should be neutral but because of automatic translation they are masculine, I'm sorry, it was written with a neutral reader in mind. Forgive the bad English too, Google is not one of the best

Revision: @waitingmydemons

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ• ────── ✦ ────── •

Today would definitely be your day! After weeks of trying to convince your brothers and especially your father, you had managed to get permission to take a tour all alone around the next island the ship stopped. It might seem silly, but living surrounded by men who saw danger in everything made your freedom being compared to one of a bird in a cage. Of course, you were more than grateful for all the effort they put into protecting you, but sometimes you just wanted to run around and play with other kids instead of being followed by famous pirates who scared anyone who came near.

That's why you couldn't hold back the anxiety of finally being able to live a little adventure completely alone! You've prepared very well, choosing fresh clothes that won't get in the way of playing or running, took a purse with a generous amount of money that you collected according to the days and choose the best and most resistant shoes! Everything was perfect, you couldn't even swallow your food during lunch. You were so busy, as soon as the meal was over, you said goodbye to everyone and ran towards the port, excited to explore the place.

Even if walking around and spending money on silly things wasn't exactly the most fun thing in the world, just being able to experience all those new things by yourself and maybe even make a few friends was enough to get you excited. There weren't many young people in Whitebeard's crew, you ended up being the only child and the youngest member which left you a bit alone. Of course no one refused to play with you, Marco and Thatch would spend hours distracting you if that made you happy, the point was that they were adults and eventually needed to take care of their responsibilities, leaving you alone.

Your plan was to buy some candy and maybe find some kids your age to play with, you couldn't wait to get some attention from people who would also like to play. You walked carefree through the big city market, there were countless merchants, mothers, workers, all walking around in their own worlds and duties. You'd eventually stop and look at the fruit, jewelry, or anything else that looked like fun, but you weren't focused on shopping. You were humming absently around, not really caring about your surroundings when you started to hear footsteps approaching.

When you turned around to try to figure out what was going on it was too late, a person collided directly with you but before he could knock you to the ground, he pulled you by the arm away from the main road. You were dragged into an alley and soon a hand covered your mouth, when you regained your senses you could hear more and more footsteps approaching, a crowd running! You frowned in confusion as you listened to what people were saying. "Are you sure you lost them?" You tried to peek down the alley and you could guess they were sailors by their blue and white outfit. "Shit, those little brats! I can't believe they robbed us…" they argued among themselves "Let's keep looking, they can't have gone far".

So when the men walked away you decided to pay attention to the situation you were in. You looked to see who your captors were and came across two… children? The boy holding you had blue hair and a huge red nose, he was holding your mouth while his face had a terrified expression. Next to him was a boy with red hair and a nice hat, he was carrying what looked like a bag of coins and he also looked extremely nervous about being chased. Whoever they were, you knew they'd robbed the sailors, but that didn't mean they weren't a risk to you.

When you were sure the sailors were gone you used all your strength to step on the boy's foot and then bite his hand. You might be small but you weren't harmless, growing up with powerful pirates had taught you a trick or two.

"Ouch! You bit me!" The boy screamed as he held his own hand.

The redhead finally seemed to notice that they'd dragged someone else into the mess and looked at you confused.

"You kidnapped me!" You countered by crossing your arms.

"You kidnapped them?!" The redhead exclaimed looking at his friend in shock.

"They were in the way!" The other tried to defend himself "And you bit me! I was about to let you go!" He was still angry but you didn't care.

"Think before you kidnap me! You're lucky I only bit you, if I told my brothers they would do a lot worse!" You exclaimed proudly of your family.

"Sure, like I'm going to believe a snotty brat" the blue haired one rolled his eyes.

"You called me what?!" You exclaimed with fury as your cheeks burned.

"Snotty brat" he said again with a smirk, looking satisfied with having turned the tables.

The problem was that the boy had underestimated you, one thing you definitely lacked was patience. You learned very early that you shouldn't tolerate offenses against yourself or your family, so you let anger win that fight. You quickly punched the blue-haired boy in the middle of the face, the one who fell on his butt with a scream.

"Buggy!" The red-haired friend screamed and went to help him.

"I'm not snotty!" You said stomping your foot on the floor.

The red-haired boy looked between you and the companion, his gaze showing shock and… fascination? He looked at you like you were a bedtime story hero, someone amazing and you couldn't understand. Shouldn't he be angry? You had just hit his colleague and he seemed fascinated by it?

"Wow…" he exclaimed looking you up and down.

"Humpf! Idiot" you said without patience and then you turned to leave the alley "You're lucky I won't tell my brothers, Marco would finish you off" you said and then left the place ignoring the red haired boy who kept calling you .

You were nervous and frustrated that visit to the city had not gone as you planned, so you decided to go back to the ship earlier. Luckily you would stay a few days in that place, there would be other opportunities to explore and meet kind and fun children, no more children who irritated you. It wasn't long after returning to shore that the crew set up a small camp to store the new supplies while the ship was refueled. There, you found Marco fiddling with some papers and further away you could see his father giving orders to some other members.

You sat with a sulky face while eating a candy you bought in town, Marco looked at you curiously and approached with a characteristic smile.

"What's wrong birdie-yoi?" He smiled and sat down next to you.

"I… I met some annoying kids" you decided it was better to omit what had happened, as much as you wanted revenge, you understood that the confusion had been a misunderstanding and you didn't want your siblings worrying about something so silly.

"Wasn't that fun?" He nodded when he saw you deny it. "Don't worry, you can still meet other kids in the next few days" he smiled trying to calm you down "And if nobody wants to play with you, let's get Visa and Jozu and have a tea party, how about that?" He offered, knowing you were always happiest spending time with your brothers.

"Promise?" You looked at him sullenly.

"On my honor" he smiled as he saw you clearly getting more excited about the idea.

After a little chat, Marco had to get back to work and you decided not to bother him anymore. So to distract yourself until dinner time you decided to walk along the nearby beach and look for some shells to collect, you were still thinking about the boys from before, especially the redhead. He was looking at you with so much emotion that you couldn't help but feel your stomach churning, no one had ever looked at you like that… It was so weird and it made you so confused, what was that? Some noises in the nearby forest caught your attention, being curious that you were, so it didn't take long to approach and look for who was there.

"It 's you!" You said in recognition of seeing the red hair from before.

"Shhhh!" He asked for silence and you covered your mouth, looking around for any threat "Are your brothers here?" he asked quietly.

"They're over there…" you pointed into the distance and he seemed to agree silently "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you again" he admitted looking at the floor, his cheeks were slightly pink and you felt your body getting warm.

"Why?" You asked timidly.

"Because your punch was super cool!" His eyes sparkled "You hit Buggy right on!"

"Is he not your friend?" You asked confused.

"He is… But you were just defending yourself! He shouldn't have called you snotty… You're not snotty, you're too cute to be!" He confidently admitted.

"Do you think I'm cute?" Your cheeks were now on fire.

"I do…" he smiled shyly "I'm Shanks, what's your name?" He approached.

"(Y/n)" you smiled.

"Cool, I didn't know Whitebeard had someone in the crew with my age"

"How do you know I’m in the Whitebeard’s crew?”

"You said you had a brother named Marco, I know him! And my captain said Whitebeard was in town, so that had to be it," he said with pride in his little investigation.

"Your captain? Are you a pirate too?" You were curious now.

"Yes! I'm from the Roger Pirates!" he exclaimed with pride.

That's when your face became sad... You had heard about this crew countless times, all your life you grew up hearing that they were your father's main enemies and that you could not, under any circumstances, approach them.

"I shouldn't be talking to you!" You finally realized and tried to run, but Shanks was quick and grabbed you.

"Wait! Please! I don't want to hurt you!" He begged as he held her wrist gently but firmly.

"How can I trust you? You kidnapped me this morning! And we are sworn enemies!" You snorted.

"But I don't want to be your enemy…"

"You don't?" You let your emotions get the best of you.

"No… I… I want to be your boyfriend!" He declared with fire in his eyes.

"Boyfriend!?" You stuttered in shock, your face was hot and probably red, your eyes were wide in shock.

"Yes! You're super strong and cute!" He said without a care and then let go of your hand "Unless you didn't like me…"

"No! I did like you…!" You admitted with embarrassment "But… I never had a boyfriend… What do they do?"

"They… They" he stammered in embarrassment "They hold hands… Kiss on the cheek and go on dates!" He said with embarrassment.

"Oh!" You exclaimed with as much embarrassment as he was. You thought about holding Shanks hands and your stomach started to turn, it would also be really cool to be able to play with him.

"It's cool, isn't it? We can be sweethearts!" He tried to convince you.

"(Y/n)?! Where are you? It's getting dark and we should go back to the ship" You heard your father's voice approaching.

"Shanks?! Where are you?!" Another unknown voice came from the middle of the forest.

Before you could run away the fearsome encounter took place, behind you was your father and behind Shanks must have been the much talked about Roger, his captain. You both widened your eyes in terror when you realized what was happening, but you didn't dare open your mouth to try to explain.

"Roger"

"Newgate"

"Can you explain why your brat is talking to my child?" He quickly put a hand on your shoulder and pulled you back.

"Good question, what's up Shanks? Did you come here to talk to the old man?" The captain chuckled, he didn't seem to be mad at Shanks at all.

"I… Well…" the boy mumbled incoherently with embarrassment.

"Did he do something to you?" Your father asked, looking at you calmly, he didn't seem mad at you at all, which calmed you down a bit.

"No…" you mumbled shyly and grabbed his leg.

"Hm, maybe they just met and had a chat" Roger theorized "Or are they secretly flirting, huh Shanks? You naughty, came for the riskiest one" the man teased.

"Don't talk nonsense Roger, (y/n) can't date you, brat" His father said as if that was nonsense.

"I can't?" You asked with some sadness in your voice.

"They can’t?" It was Shanks's turn to look sadly at his captain.

The two men stared at each other in shock, they seemed to slowly understand what was going on between the two of you.

"Don't tell me… Did you like this piece of junk?" your father asked in shock and nervousness.

"Hey! No need to offend other people's children!" Roger defended "Shanks isn't that bad… He's just… He" the man shrugged.

"Like you understand" Edward rolled his eyes.

"Come on, we were young once!" Roger laughed "Let the kids date and have some fun, nothing bad will come of it"

"No" Edward gave the final verdict, but when he felt you pulling his pants and making your huge lost puppy eyes with tears threatening to fall he started to rethink the idea "(y/n)..."

"Please?" You asked "I promise I'll help more often in the kitchen if you let me..." you tried to bargain, you liked Shanks, you didn't want to be banned from dating him, even if you didn't know exactly what boyfriends did.

"Heavens… Who knew having kids would be like this…" He sighed tiredly "You guys can date" Shanks smiled "With some conditions!"

"Conditions? That's not fair!" He huffed angrily.

"Calm down little one, he's the father, he has the right to decide that, you have to earn trust and permission" Roger said quickly, Shanks seemed more resigned.

"First you need to grow up a bit, I can step on you now and I won't let such a small and young brat date my child!" he said quickly.

"Uhum!" The redhead's eyes sparkled.

"Second, you need to be strong! I will not tolerate a weakling having my child as a partner, you need to be able to face me without fear to have their hand"

"Yes! I'm going to be really strong!" He smiled looking at you and you looked away shyly.

"And finally, when you have those two things, the most important one" Shanks listened attentively "You need their acceptance" your father put his hand on your head "If you have both requirements and my child still loves you then I won't be the one going to stop you" he chuckled.

You smiled happily as you looked at Shanks who also looked confident.

"You'll see old man! I'm going to marry them!" He proclaimed with pride.

Roger just laughed praising his apprentice while your father looked frustrated and stroked your hair. You smiled thinking about how cool it would be to have Shanks as your boyfriend, you really didn't see the time to be able to be with him.

Continue...

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ• ────── ✦ ────── •

Notes: I hope you enjoyed! There will be a part two showing what happened to them as adults, if you can leave what you think it will motivate me a lot because I'm new here! If you want to ask for something feel free! I'll make the best imagines I can, thanks for the support and see you soon

[andraxicated]

Married to Wild Eyes

Pairings: Jing Yuan x f! reader

Synopsis: Your husband returns home and rails you after he deduces something that you've hidden from him.

Tags: breeding | fingering | pregnancy sex (early stage) | riding | nipple play | uhh I can't remember anything else

a/n: this Wild Eyes manhwa popped up on my tiktok fyp with those iconic pwop and squelch panels. i'm like...interesting~

+ smut always takes so long for me to write because I always have to close the tab and run a lap around the house when I start on the nasty stuff.

wc: 4.9k (porn with some kinda plot)

will proofread in the morning😭

General Jing Yuan was a kind man to all, logical and strategic are only a few of the praises you hear for him. After all, he's the reason that the Xianzhou enjoys many years of peace to come. But just as the praises that resound from people's mouths—and the peace he brings by fulfilling his military duty, none of it compares to the lewd praises and ecstasy he delivers as he fulfills his duty to you as your husband.

"Augh~ Yuan, right there! F-fuck keep on hitting it-n-not too deep!" You babble a mix of words as you bounce on his cock, placing your shaky hands on his shoulders that are about to slip. Still, you try your best to regulate the rhythm with your eyes closed that Jing Yuan finds a little too slow for his liking. But who he is to deprive you of your wants? Although, he did find it unusual that you asked to top for a more sensual pace than him railing you into the mattress.

"Come on love, show me how good you can ride."

Jing Yuan does his part by thrusting up his lower body into you, abs flexing as he held tightly onto your waist. It then sent you opening your eyes, tears coming onto your waterline with your mouth agape, body sinking down on his fat cock to quell the itch brought by your hormones.

"You need help?" He notices how you're struggling to move and you nod. It seems like you want to go on but your legs are sore and shaking.

Your cunt throbs crazily and has Jing Yuan whipped, he lifts you by the hips and brings you down only to the length you can take. "I-I'll go faster!" You squeal, chasing the incoming high that has both of you reaching for the other's lips, making a messy exchange of saliva as his cock repeatedly coaxes your walls to make way. Jing Yuan's grip tightens and you immediately remove them, not wanting to feel his strong hold near your stomach. Instead, you relocate his hands to your breasts, moaning when he lightly squeezed. Much to his puzzlement at your abrupt removal of his hands, for now, he'll set his confusion aside just to kiss you softly, tucking away the hair that falls on your face.

"You look beautiful" His voice reverberates, praise going straight to your pussy.

"Do I, general?" You whisper as you elicit a moan when the bulbous head hits your spot.

"Believe me. That's why you're the one on top of me, isn't it?" Jing Yuan teases with a hearty laugh. He finds it all mesmerizing to see his dear wife falling apart above him. These skin-slapping sounds, the lewd faces you make, and the sight of him repeatedly disappearing into your folds have him losing the strength in holding back for your sake. He began to plump upwards at a speed that has your vision rocking and your nails finding expanse at his chest.

You continue to impale yourself on his cock, relishing in the sensation of being filled up repeatedly. Your lower belly starts to feel a coiling tension, one you're all too familiar with since the wedding night. And the sight of your husband's face going red with his lip bit was the one that pushed you to the edge.

The only thing you could say was a whimper of his name "Jing yuan—!", and then had a euphoric urge to close your eyes, but the sudden shift of his golden orbs from where you're connected to your own is what compels you to stare at him while you finish.

You look dumb and mesmerized above him, cunt soaking his length from your release, and the one thought behind your lovestruck gaze was the title that people called him.

"Wild Eyes"

You now know why he's dubbed a ridiculous name such as "wild eyes". The name is deemed true on the battlefield when he's in action, leading the alliance to victory and inflicting enemies with fear when he summons the Lightning Lord. And now it shows most true when he's in bed, breeding his lovely wife as he should.

"You okay, darling?" He asked, half-amused with shaky breaths. His thrusts suddenly slow down, groaning, only to shoot warm cum inside you as you fall down on his chest and take what he's giving you.

After being cleaned up, both of you settle on the bed and then you notice the mini cakes settled on a platter. The sudden cravings appear to be strong that you gradually reach out for the snack.

"I prepared those for you. I heard you've taken a liking to sweets. You like it?" Jing Yuan suddenly speaks and you look over to him. He's half-covered by the sheets, displaying his abs and war scars unabashed. But then you've seen his body multiple times now, what's there to be ashamed of?

Your cheeks burn at the view so you focus instead on savoring the sweetness. "I like it. Thank you for this."

Jing Yuan sighs while looking fondly at you. He has to leave you before dawn to attend the subjugation of the Stellaron monsters, one that will probably take days or perhaps weeks before he comes home to you. And Jing Yuan is currently facing the dilemma of how to break the news to you—

"You're going tomorrow, right? The mara-struck have been increasing in numbers along with the monsters that suddenly seem to appear out of nowhere." You take the words out of his mouth, looking over at him to see his eyes rounded in shock. "Jing Yuan, you're needed. So you should go, no need to feel guilty"

"Well I'm feeling guilty, I heard you've been sick every morning and I'm not there to take care of you. Perhaps I should call for the best physician in the Luofu? "

You smile yet it didn't reach the ends of your lips. "My maids take care of me and besides, the attending physician is fine."

"I'm your husband, they're taking my job." He sighs, hair falling in front of his face that you immediately tuck away. He takes it as an opportunity to grab your hand and kiss the back of your palm, keeping those golden eyes on you all the while.

You could feel yourself shrink from the intensity of his gaze. It felt so weird that it kind of tickled your stomach and nerves in a good way.

"Dearest (y/n), I don't want you to feel lonely in this manor. I know that it's my fault that we haven't been moving forward as we talked about but-" He suddenly gets cut off by you pressing your lips to his soft ones. You had your eyes closed to protect yourself from his eyes because you don't know if your heart will be able to take that gaze.

You wanted to be upset, you had every right to be upset as his wife. You wanted to say "I'm used to it" with a tone that demands coaxing and cuddles before you cry. You wanted so much time with him despite being married as strangers. Yet he has a responsibility to the people, one that often kept him away from the confines of your room—from your arms.

You could only force yourself to be mature about it and push down the urge to cling.

"Jing Yuan, we'll have plenty of time to be with each other. Besides, I have my maids to keep me company. I won't be lonely." You always knew you were amazing with lies but it took great effort to keep your voice from breaking. You hope he doesn't notice the glimmer of water in your eyes.

"And I-"

You wanted to tell him the good news but it seemingly got stuck in your throat.

"Hmm?"

You stopped yourself from speaking, quickly changing your words in a fit of internal panic.

"—want to say come back soon. Safely."

Jing Yuan noticed you wanted to say something else but he chose not to dwell on it. He'll just wait for you to tell him whatever it is.

"I will" He says before leaning in to kiss you, his large hands snake to your ear to the back of your head, keeping you firm within his lips as he lays you down for another round or two.

As soon as the maids heard the large patter of Jing Yuan's boots, they immediately scurried to your bedroom, hushed whispers of your name as she shakes you gently from your sleep.

"My lady! The general is now leaving the house! Hurry!" She says and you immediately wake up to find your robes and see him off. You knew he wouldn't wake you up for the sake of rest but who knows when will you see him again? The subjugation takes weeks or months if you're unlucky and from what you've heard, the current situation of the Xianzhou isn't pretty.

You could only whisper a prayer as you watch Jing Yuan's back go further away along with a gentle caress to your stomach.

"Let's hope he comes home in a week...or less" You chuckle and shake your head, finding it funny to talk to the child inside you. So this was the little surprise that Fu Xuan keeps on being cryptic about.

Jing Yuan could go on further but the stamina of the Cloud Knights wasn't exactly quite like his. He settles them down for rest and he had hoped to take the time to nap but a knight suddenly came over that he couldn't refuse. He's about to doze off but it seemed like he had to listen to his subordinate.

The knight bowed as a greeting, a wide grin splattered on his face. "General, I'm here to thank you on behalf of my family for saving them from the attacks last month. My mother almost fainted upon hearing it because apparently, my sister was pregnant during that time. It's only because of my incompetence that I failed to protect her that you had to step in-"

"Slow down young man." Jing Yuan commands and the knight shuts himself immediately. "No incompetent one becomes a Cloud Knight, we all undergo rigorous training to ensure that we're worthy of defending the Luofu."

The young man nods, apologizing for his words.

"And your sister's pregnant you say? How is she then?" Jing Yuan is not one to meddle in somebody else's personal life but he's just tiny curious about this particular matter.

"She's well, general. Now that she's far in, her cravings for sweets became worse along with the morning sickness. She's nauseous at the smell of some food—General? Are you all right?"

Those little details present during that afternoon suddenly came slapping him in the face for not realizing sooner.

Jing Yuan is a fool. He had become a father and he had no idea at all.

"Excuse me. I need to talk to Yanqing for a while." He flashed a smile and nod before scurrying over to the boy dressed in blue.

"General? What's the matter?" He noticed his master's face in distress, although rare, Yanqing has seen it every time something concerns you. It's natural for him to mirror the expression of the general as the boy sees you as his mother figure.

"Yanqing go back to the city at once. I will take charge of here, we should be coming back in three days."

"Three days? But general-"

"(y/n) is with child. Go protect her in my stead."

And that's how you come to see the blonde-haired boy at your door. You immediately came rushing when the maids told you Yanqing arrived at the manor. Every worst-case scenario suddenly came flashing like reels in your mind. Your heart was pounding like crazy as you await Yanqing's response to your question.

"Weren't you supposed to be in the expedition? W-where is a Jingyuan?" Your throat felt constricted due to the immense panic you felt since the boy returned home alone. Usually, after a long expedition, he comes home to your abode with your husband ahead of him. Yet this time the boy had a conflicted expression that worsened your anxieties.

"The general sent me ahead of them...because he found out something about you. He asked me to protect you that's why I'm here, I'll be staying until the general returns." Yanqing says sheepishly and you realize he's beating around the bush.

"What did he find out? I don't understand."

"Y-you're..." He struggled to find the words until, finally he spoke while scratching the back of his head. "You're pregnant. The general found out."

How in the world did he? You were pretty sure he remained clueless until he left. The thoughts of his reactions plagued you at night as you rub your belly. You only hope keeping this news doesn't anger him. If he knew of your condition before departing, he'd be extremely worried on top of all those battles he'll face. You counted day by day until it was finally the third day where Jing Yuan and the Xianzhou troops would arrive.

The morning sickness kept you confined to your bed and bathroom. You closed your eyes for a minute and you felt the door open to which you sit up-right in anticipation. And there he was, walking towards you like some sort of saving light. His long white hair swayed subtly, gold eyes sparkling with delight, and the smile you've grown to love made the corners of your lips rise. He pulled out a nearby chair and kissed your forehead. His hand suddenly went from your stroking your hair to your tummy and you flinched, wide-eyed.

"You kept this a little secret from me huh?" He muses and you're glad from the tone that he isn't angry. Jing Yuan just happily gazes back and forth between your face and your belly. "I'm not mad as I understand why you had to hide it. You don't have to apologize." His words make you melt, you wrapped your arms around him in an attempt to cover your shyness while you complain about your morning sickness and everything in between.

Jing Yuan strokes your body as he mindlessly repeats the happy thoughts of being a father. Surely he has to reward you for being so good to him, right?

Night had fallen and you settled in the bed with a sigh. Jing Yuan followed you as he got out of the bathroom, shirtless. Your eyes naturally drifted to his body and filled your mind with sin, shifting uncomfortably when the itch between your legs started.

He dries his long hair with the towel, muscles flexing with each movement and you couldn't help but stare at him and what he's hiding underneath, your eyes lingering as he goes to dress his lower half. To think this man's seed is growing inside you makes you feel so damn turned on. You feel wanted by him and Jing Yuan himself confirms your feelings.

He soon lays on the bed, it dips with his weight and you scoot over because you know what he's waiting for. Jing Yuan leans down to meet with your lips, tongues clashing in a fit of passion and he grabs you by the waist to move you closer.

All he felt was cold nights in tents these past few days. The warmth of your body along with the comfort of your shared home butters the general in a sweet mood to make love. He lightly kneads the flesh of your ass through your nightgown, distracting you with his kisses and expert handwork as he takes off your clothing. Those nimble digits creep up between your thighs, cupping his favorite toy as you pull away to let out a moan.

He doesn't let you though. He immediately grabs your chin to connect your lips once more at a pace that starts to pick up. You didn't even notice how you're suddenly caged under his body. Jing Yuan pulls away when he notices it's been too long without breathing, he's not one bit fazed about the makeout but when he sees you looking absolutely debouched, his cock twitches as the animal inside him craves to devour you.

"Pretty pretty wife" Your husband muses with a smile as you suddenly feel him pushing aside your panties. The tip of his fingers teasingly touches your part like butterflies and every sensation you feel goes straight to your throbbing pussy. Jing Yuan wants to go down on you like a madman but he holds back for your sake and his. And it's all because his fingers don't want to leave your pussy at all, he missed this so bad since he's left to fist his cock at nights when you aren't there.

"So tight—missed this amazing pussy." Two of his digits enter your puffy lips, parting them slowly and checking your walls if it can accommodate his size. You always had a hard time taking him. He fights the same tightness that's currently enveloping his fingers while he ignores your pleas to stop.

"Shh shhh you like this, look at you." He drawls, putting on speed with the way he's fingering you. "And when I stop, you whine for me to put it back in. What do you really want hmm?" Two digits are thick enough to fill you completely, what more if it's his cock filling you up? You moan when it hits the spot, squirming inside you and then pulling out only to play with your clit.

He laughs when you cry out in surprise, cooing at the tears that decorate your eyes and wiping them as if he's not the cause. Jing Yuan positions himself above you, quickly discarding the material that hides your treasure. The throbbing between your legs got worse as he starts to unbuckle his pants. You could faintly make out its hardened outline before its leaking tip shows itself to you.

Jing Yuan chuckles, watching how your eyes followed his movement when he strokes himself to spread precum. "Shit, you want this? Want my cock?" He groaned and as expected, your legs automatically tightened around his waist, begging for him to slide it.

"Jing Yuan, please don't be mean. I missed you so much, I need you! Fill me up please!" Your cries passed by him in a daze as he already heard that countless times from you, sure it makes his dick twitch but what moved him was your eyes that showed how much you needed him. They were glossy and conveyed so much emotion other than feeling lust.

It was feeding on the general's urge to take care of you and his child, to love you even if you don't feel the same. He's determined to make this marriage work, you're not backing down now that he's sealed you with his seed.

His thoughts made him touch your stomach mindlessly, the other hand lining up his cock against your folds. Jing Yuan kisses the top of your head, whispering assurance that he'll be gentle. "I'll be gentle, slow pace right? Don't want me hurting you." He says, pushing in to be met with warm walls that grip his cock like a vice.

"Fuckkk, taking me so good." He hissed but suddenly his attention was directed to you who mewled his name.

"I-it's okay to be rough—I want it anyway, just be careful." Your voice dwindles with each word and heat rushes to your face when you realize what you just said. It was embarrassing but on the first night together, you remember Jing Yuan telling you it's important for you to say what you want during sex. So even though you wanted to cover your face with a pillow, your resolve stayed strong until you hear Jing Yuan chuckle.

He leaned down to kiss you on the lips, resisting the urge to pinch you when you look at him with puzzled doe eyes. "Of course. Anything you say, I'll keep in mind." He coos, snuggling his kisses to your neck down to your soft breasts.

He eases the penetration by pushing slow yet continuous, both of you moaning when he buries himself slightly to the hilt. "Is this okay? Deep enough?"

"Y-yeah so good!"

Jing Yuan knows he's big and the effect it has on you. You're shaking beneath him and he could feel it with the way your legs are around his torso. And along the way home, he somehow picked up the knowledge that pregnant women are sensitive especially in their erogenous parts. He was almost overcome with the instinct to pull out if it felt too much for you but when you're saying stuff like wanting him to cum inside you over and over—Jing Yuan knows the only way to please his needy wife is to shoot the load that got you pregnant in the first place.

You shiver when he slides out and prods at your entrance, waiting for him to plunge back in and the second stretch of your hole never fails to open your mouth in shock, sneaky Jing Yuan takes the opportunity to slide his mouth and indulge in sloppy kisses.

"Mmmh-s-stop-ahh!-move inside now!" He pulls away only when you break the kiss and ask to move inside you already. It felt bratty to him but for tonight, he's gonna heed to everything you say. It's only right that Jing Yuan fucks this pussy so good for bearing him a child.

"Impatient are we?" He clicks his tongue and begins to tie his loose hair with the red ribbon. Your attention was so caught in his muscular arms that you didn't even anticipate the movement of his length in your walls. He begins to fuck you while he ties his hair and your eyes were left frozen in shock that he couldn't help but break out a laugh. "Stop looking so cute or else I'll forget that I'm supposed to be holding back." Jing Yuan chuckles before putting his strength in his lower half to work, pulling out halfway through before surprising you as he pushes back to hit the spot.

"Feels good?" You nod dumbly at his question, moaning at how delicious his cockhead feels when it pounds. You wanted to speak but only incoherent babbles makes it out of your mouth that you chose to shut up instead, taking and enjoying his large cock that's breaking your pussy open. He keeps up his pace, his groans in tandem with his thrusts and your body moves along, creating jiggles on your breasts and stomach.

"Look at you, so pretty and tight as fuck. Taking me so good—ugh" He got cut off when your walls pulsed around him, sending shivers down his spine as he lets out a mix of lewd sounds that tickles your ear.

Jing Yuan suddenly latches his lip onto your nipple, sucking ravenously at your nipple and you scream in pleasure, kicking your feet only for him to push deeper to keep your legs in place.

"Can't wait to see—mmmh—these breasts full of milk—won't have another chance to suck at you like this". Jing Yuan mumbles between lapping at your mounds. His words made you gush below, obscene squelches overlapping your whimpers. Your hands desperately grabbed at the sheets as Jing Yuan pounded furiously with his mouth attached to your boobs. It looked so so dirty—so wrong but you can't help but enjoy how he's using your body.

Everything was so sensitive, your body felt like it was on fire. His movements were coming all at once yet he had another trick up his sleeve. Your flesh gets bitten down by his teeth, a sharp pain shooting up in your body that made your walls clench tighter around him. He thrusts in response to your enclosing walls, feeling him grin with your nipple between his teeth.

"Hah! 'm close, Jing Yuan!" Your hand flew to your mouth to hold the moans that threatened to surface but your husband doesn't like that. He prefers it when you're lewd and noisy, the sounds you make were a stark contrast to your image.

He moves your hand to his hair all the while looking at your debauched expression. There was no thought behind your eyes, only thinking of the way his cock fucks back into your hole, molding your cunt to his shape.

He took pity on your senses, you must be so far gone now that only breathless moans are coming out of your mouth. But the primal urge to claim you even though you're his always gets the better of him. Jing Yuan pulls away from your body and hovers to see you in your entirety. He experiments on your obedience for the fun of it, shoving one finger at first and then adding another two to see your reaction.

The look on your face with three fingers stuffed inside your mouth fuels him to pump his cock harder, to give it to you better because you look absolutely ravishing right now. And when you wrap your pouty lips around his digits before he could say anything, his heart does a little backflip as the corners of his lip rise. You were so fucking good for him so he pinches your clit, earning a yelp.

Jing Yuan feels like he's falling harder for you. He's so lucky—so blessed to have you underneath him, he wonders if this marriage wasn't orchestrated then who would be the one to see you like this? The ugly thought has him wanting to claim you one after another, leaving marks on your skin so people would know who you belong to. He'd have you know nothing but his name, the feeling of pleasuring and being pleasured, bearing his child and showing off that you're his and his only.

You're his wife now and that's the only thing that matters, besides you have a child on the way. And Jing Yuan groans loudly to match the pace of his thrusts, one that got you crying and sobbing out of the immense onslaught of pleasure. He fucks so good to the point you feel like your eyes are gonna go to the back of your head or your jaw is gonna lock from how frequently you're opening your mouth.

"Gonna cum?" The veins on his cock glide on your walls, balls swinging from the impact as you take a slight peek at how his dick stretches you out before falling back onto the pillow and nodding your head. "Cum for me then. Show me how good I am to you."

His deep voice lulls you to release, his loving gaze directed to you, and the fulfilling way his hips continued to rut into your cunt. And the filthy words that he whispers near your ear, bordering on degradation and praise. All of those combined and you couldn't help but close your eyes and feel him meeting your little thrusts, chasing your high. As you were nearing your closure, Jing Yuan suddenly attaches his lip to your boob and gets the timing right, provoking your screams as you have an orgasm that absolutely wrecks the lights out of you. You're nothing but a mess beneath his strong arms, his pretty little wife that keeps on crying and thrashing from having an orgasm ten times more intense than normal.

"Fucking take it—take it all." Jing Yuan pants from putting all of his energy left to chase his high, cock hitting you at the best depth that has your feet kicking. Sounds of 'pwop' and squelches fill the room alongside his groans. He leaves your mounds to go seal a fervent kiss to your lips, performing a few more thrusts until it's slowing down as he paints your walls milky white, ropes and ropes of warm cum shooting inside your cunt until he feels spent.

All that's left to do is to clean you up and run another bath, no doubt there's already warm water prepared for both of you. The intensity of doing it with Jing Yuan left you unable to focus and now that you're gaining clarity of your surroundings, you see his eyes that stand out from the background. It's like a swirl of gold that pulls you in and renders you speechless yet you mumble unconsciously "wild eyes" that didn't escape your husband's hearing.

It left Jing Yuan in a fit of giggles, brushing your hair behind your ear as you bury your face in his chest. "So you've heard that one? I wonder if our child will inherit these wild eyes of mine."

You reply while gazing up at him. "I hope so. Your eyes are really pretty."

"Thank you" Jing Yuan broke out a smile, not able to hide what he was feeling as he presses a tender kiss to your forehead that you savor with your eyes closed. His hand traveled to your stomach, caressing it as he looks up to the ceiling, wondering about the future.

Then he says "I'll be present more. I'll be a great husband and father just as they call me a great general." He suddenly declares that you slightly sit up to look at him with awe.

Your lips part, unsure of what to say but you know that from those golden eyes alone that anything you say will be fine. You could feel love—see love emanating from their so-called wild eyes.

"I...would like that"

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 23

PREVIOUS

There were a few reasons that Andrew and Neil could not get past reception to go see FF or get updates on his current condition.

The first reason was that visiting hours were long over by the time they had arrived a little after midnight.

The second reason was that hospitals, in general, don’t just give out information on their patients to any random person that walks in and asks for an update on their condition. They are ESPECIALLY hesitant to give out updates on patients when the people who are asking can’t give you anything other than a first name, general description, and the reason that the patient is in the hospital.

Somehow “Completely average looking guy with the last name Smith who was stabbed in the stomach” is not enough for the receptionist to go off of.

“There are multiple people here that fit that description. I would need at least a first and last name before I could even begin to start seeing if you were someone who we even could give updates to. No, I will not continue to play your fun little game of guess the first name.” She says when Andrew opens his mouth to start listing off names alphabetically again.

So now Andrew and Neil found themselves under the watchful eye of a security guard as they sat in the back corner of the front reception area.

“I can’t believe we still don’t know what Smith’s first name is.” Neil says his face is buried in his hands as he and Andrew sit in the uncomfortable chairs trying to figure out where to go from here.

“I think she knows exactly who we want to see.” Andrew scowls towards the receptionist who, long used to the ire of the public, pays him no mind. Andrew just refused to believe that there were that many brown haired, brown eyed, average height and weight guys who had suffered a stab wound to the stomach that would have been admitted in the last two hours.

“I just hope they actually are looking after him and that no one went and forgot about him in an hallway somewhere.” Neil says hands sliding up into his hair to grip.

“That wouldn’t happen.” Andrew dismisses despite knowing that Wymack had ABSOLUTELY forgotten FF at a stadium once during the period where FF had been low presence to keep his family from bothering him.

The U-turn he had pulled had definitely been illegal when FF called and asked where the bus was when they had been on the road for five minutes. Wymack had felt terrible about it but FF had just seemed relieved that the bus had come back for him.

Wymack.

Andrew pulls out his phone and dials a familiar number. Wymack, reliable as always, picks up on the fourth ring with the sound of cursing as he got the phone up to his ear. “What.” He asks and Andrew can hear the sounds of driving and Kevin’s infamously train-like snoring in the background.

“What’s Smith first name. You know it.” Andrew demands.

“Classified.” Wymack clips back immediately.

“I need to know it so that we can get updates.” Andrew hisses.

“He isn’t interested in people knowing it and you wouldn’t be able to get updates anyways.” Wymack dismisses.

“We want to be able to head back to see him.” Neil tries.

“Visiting hours are long over Josten. You know that I’m not settling that bet that you little fuckers have floating around about this.” Wymack responds back.

Andrew grits his teeth and then forces himself to relax his jaw, “It’s not about the bet.” Andrew shuts his eyes in irritation.

That stupid bet.

The betting culture within the Palmetto State Foxes Exy team that Reynold’s had cultivated held strong even after her graduation with the remaining Foxes. The Bet had started when one of the other freshmen had mentioned that it was funny that FF went around like Cher or Madonna. The realization that none of them knew FF’s first name was one that had them placing bets on a multitude of things. Things like: “Do you wanna bet it’s a super normal boring name?”, “Do you wanna bet that it’s a weird foreign name?”, and “Is FF intentionally not giving it out to people or since he goes by his last name normally he has no idea that anything is amiss?” Had lower pools since you were betting on a spectrum. The bet with the highest pool is: “What is FF’s first name”.

Wymack had categorically refused to answer it and all other attempts to discover FF’s first name had been met with frustration. There was a solemn agreement that no one could just go and outright ask him since that would ruin all of the fun. Andrew had agreed to not ask when the team had collectively filled his freezer with ice cream cake and he was a man of his word.

The general belief (after the revelation of his major and the number of languages FF spoke) was that FF’s name was just not easy to pronounce for English speakers.

Andrew hadn’t participated but he know that the Foxes do have a running list of names they know it’s not. (Greg, Will, Smith (again), Matt, Kevin, Neil, Andrew, Aaron, Nathaniel, Jack, Beyonce (Sheena’s drunken guess), Nicholas, John, Fred, Garfield, Frank, Alfred, Augustus, Adam, etc. (Andrew had been trying to guess with the receptionist for a while))

“You’re coming here aren’t you? We can get updates when you get them.” Neil says.

“He’s in emergency surgery right now and will remain there for the next few hours most likely. There’s not going to be any updates hopefully.” Wymack says with a sigh loud enough that they can hear it over Kevin’s snoring.

“Surgery? He needs surgery?” Neil asks sounding surprised s if FF hadn’t been stabbed to the hilt into his stomach with one of Andrew’s knives. He’s about to give Neil some shit for the question before remembering that if there was any person who would think that a stab wound to the stomach wouldn’t necessitate surgery it would be Neil “I’m Fine” Josten.

“Yes Josten, he needs surgery. They have to stitch up his stomach and the surgeons are also going to be dealing with some of the ulcers that were ruptured by the knife.” Wymack explains likely coming to the same conclusion that Andrew had on Neil’s stupid question. “They were a bit worried about him bleeding out but he stabilized before the surgery.” Wymack sighs.

“I’m going the hospital since I’m Smith’s medical proxy. If anything goes wrong with the surgery I want to be there so I can make an informed decision on his care.” Wymack says and… Andrew figured there’d be surgery but to hear it and the possibility that something could go wrong, that the last thing FF had said to him had been something non-sensical about “Gracie Hart wouldn’t have gotten stabbed. I’m Cheryl at best.”as he’d started succumbing to all the blood loss. “If you could stick around long enough for me to drop Kevin off with you I would appreciate it.” Wymack says.

“What if he needs a blood transfusion?” Andrew says.

“Smith is AB-, it’s the second easiest blood type to transfuse into. Go home Andrew.” Wymack repeats.

Andrew works his jaw irritated that there didn’t seem to be a path to getting his way.

“We’ll stay here until you get here.” Andrew agrees, “But you’ll get an update before we leave.” He adds.

Wymack sighs, “Fair enough.” He says before hanging up.

It’s 45 minutes of waiting and tossing a few more name possibilities at the receptionist who seems more amused than anything at their continued attempts to guess their friend’s first name (Neil goes through the entire list of names that he’s gone by and none of them get the thumbs up).

Wymack comes through the doors with a half awake Kevin Day following his steps. “I have another favor to ask you.” Wymack says instead of any form of greeting.

“I’m not going to leave Kevin in the car overnight again. It was just that one time.” Andrew says with a roll of his eyes and honestly he’d been punished enough listening to Kevin bitch, moan, and sneeze for the following week while talking about all the supplements he was taking.

“Not that,” Wymack pauses, “I have two favors to ask you. First don’t do that. Second, would you be able to pick up Smith’s grandma from the airport tomorrow?” He asks.

Andrew blinks.

“She’s coming here?” He asks.

“I updated her on my way here. She booked a flight and will be arriving around noon tomorrow.” Wymack says and Andrew doesn’t know why he’s confused by this. FF’s grandma got him two still warm pies to cheer him up on Thanksgiving.

He’d stabbed that woman’s grandson.

“I’ll pick her up.” He agrees.

Shorter one today

NEXT

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos @pluto-pepsi @dreamerthinker @passinhosdetartaruga @leftunknownheart @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme @tayspots @nick-scar @crazy-fangirl2524 @blue-jos10 @stabbyfoxandrew @splishsplashyouropinionistrash @sammichly @the-broken-pen @bitchesdoweknowu @very-small-flower @ghostlyboiii @its-a-paxycab @bisexual-genderfluid-fan @cheesecookie @theoneandonlylostsock @foxsoulcourt @blueleys @adverbialstarlight @elia-nna @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @nikodiangel @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat @hallucinatedjosten @satanic-foxhole-court @vexingcosmos @chalilodimun @insectsgetcooked @angry-kid-with-no-money @queer-crows @lillyndra @themundanemudperson @readertodeath @apileofpillows @mortalsbowbeforeme @hellomynameismoo @next-level-mess @youreonlylow @interstellarfig @notprocrastinatingatalltoday @percyjacksonfan3 @queenofcrazy27 @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares @spencellio @adinthedarkroom @harpymoth @sufferingjustalilbit @anxietymoss @oddgreyhound @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken @ken22789 @atiredvampire @isoldescorner @not--a--pipedream @azure-wing @bushbees  @roonilwazlib-main @crumplelush @foldedaces-paperbirds @thesenseinnonsense @let-tyrants-fear @ketchupandfries​ @legowerewolf​ @deadlydodos​ @but-we-respect-his-craft​ @cariniqe​ @zanypersonapricotbiscuit​ @lesbian-blackbeard​ @lesbiansupernatural​ @silvermasquerade​ @thepeachfuzz​ @minniemariex​ @kazoo-the-demjin​ @gaypomegranate​ @ji-nk-ies​ @neilimfinejosten​ @omgrubelangel​ @itsyouitsmeorpheuseurydice​

The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

[nspired1fanfiction]

Commission for Ichor & Pomegranate

Art by MadBedlam , Fanfic Art

Chapter 3:

"Fortunately, with Marcia's case still being an active investigation, we've been able to keep the church closed. Only the forensic investigator has been in and out of the building since the initial crews came in." He answered as he handed her the crime scene investigation kit. "If we find the pinecone, I'll let you bag it. I want you to make your assessments like you have been."

"Yes, sir," Jill murmured while she studied the contents of the kit before closing it back up.

The double doors to the church were locked and she watched Wesker pull out a set of keys from his pocket before he paused and glanced down at her.

"Did you bring your tension wrenches?" he asked with another cock of his head.

With her mouth dropping open slightly, "Sir, that's a crime." When his eyebrows went up, she quirked her lips, patted a pouch on her belt, and continued, "Of course I did. May I?"

"You may not, Valentine," his tone was colored with amusement when he put the key in the door and pushed it open. "I just wanted to be certain that my little B&E Specialist was adequately prepared."

She smiled at his back from his usage of her previous taunt back in the car and followed him through the threshold.

The tall chandelier hung a good ten feet from the vaulted ceiling and was bright enough to light the rich textures of the following room.

"Beautiful," Jill breathed into the muted atmosphere of the Nave.

Her captain shifted beside her, but he made no comment on the scenery and was instead looking toward a taped off area to the right.

She followed behind him again as he led her down the row of dark walnut pews. Their steps were muffled on the royal red runner carpet. The surrounding floor was made of tile; the polished surface reflected the many angles of the church as they moved.

"The nave, the main room in churches, were always my favorite," she spoke aloud while she followed. "The design was adapted by the early Christian builders from the Roman hall of justice, the basilica. The nave of the early Christian basilica is generally lighted by a row of windows near the ceiling, the clerestory." She pointed even though he wasn't looking back at her.

"You seem to have a continuous religious theme about you. A passion you follow through on Sundays perhaps?" her captain responded after a moment.

They both came to a stop where the crime scene tape marked the beginning of the tracking site.

"No." she winced when her response came out somewhat harshly. "Frankly, I find the levels of fanaticism... worrying; the spoken word of gospel calls for a lot of unnecessary violence. I've seen groups of people cling to some atrocious things in the name of God. Whether I believe or not is my secret, but I do not attend church."

"Yet, you find yourself clinging to the written word of a polytheistic religion." He lifted the tape and motioned for her to step through.

"And what of you, captain? Do you prefer the stories of the gods, one god, or none at all?" She held the tape for him while he stepped through next.

"I believe in knowing them all."

Jill tilted her head up at him and was somewhat pleased for a little more detail, even if it was rather vague.

"For what purpose?" she asked curiously.

"Stories have always been man's easiest weapon." He removed his glasses and set them carefully into his breast pouch on his vest before jutting his chin toward the stained-glass window on their right. "That was the original purpose for windows like these. To teach the gospel to those who couldn't read. What better power than to teach belief, Valentine?"

Grabbing the CSI kit from his hand, Jill pondered the thought while she cracked open the box and handed him gloves before she carefully donned her own.

The silence rang out and Jill wasn't sure he expected an answer from her. He turned from her then and began to move to where they had noted the pinecone in the picture that hung over to their right.

Stooping low, she watched his tall form lower to a crouch as he glanced beneath the pew in the front portion of the corner space.

"You'll need to grab it from your side; it's still here. Are you capable of bagging this on your own?"

Jill glanced over to see him holding out the tweezers to her. Once more, she met his challenging stare before her gloved fingers wrapped around the tweezers and pulled the instrument from him.

"I haven't let you down yet," she murmured and turned for the task.

"Indeed," he said quietly, now behind her when she carefully knelt on her side of the pew and gazed under the wood.

[anystalker707]

Playing with fire (amab version)

Pairing: Vinsmoke Niji x [gn, amab] Reader Kinktober prompt: Hate fucking + Semi-public Tags: He's very vocal / Against a wall / Some insults, nothing serious [afab version]

KINKTOBER LIST MASTERLIST

          “You are so useless, such a lowlife, that you don’t know how to act at parties. Ridiculous pirate.” Of course, he had to approach you with insults already, mouth twisted as he held a glass in hand.

Niji had a pattern whenever he approached you, including insulting the fact you were a pirate and/or anything you did, sometimes your appearance. It was like having an inverse Sanji around, which wasn’t exactly the best experience, but you couldn’t do a lot other than wait for your crew to get you after the Vinsmoke family managed to get their hands on you. Honestly, the Germa Kingdom was so boring and annoying. Death would’ve been more accessible.

Apparently, there was some gathering going on in that shitty castle, and you were obligated to be around—they knew you wouldn’t run away since you were in a place you knew nothing of, alone, but they still wanted to know where you were. You chose to sit on the sill of one of the many windows in the room, away from the attention of most of them. It felt like you were wasting time; you could be training with Zoro, cooking with Sanji, playing cards with Usopp and Chopper, but no, you were just sitting there and looking out the window of some ridiculous castle.

“I’m talking to you,” Niji reinforced as he stepped closer.

You were bored with it already, sighing as you looked up at him. “What do you want me to do? I don’t wanna argue, nor do I have the energy to prove you wrong.”

Niji’s eyebrows furrowed, and you could imagine him giving you a look of disdain from behind his pathetic glasses. Did he know he didn’t exude half of the power he thought he had? None of the three did, actually. You couldn’t believe you were caught by the goddamn Power Rangers.

“You’re truly stupid,” Niji muttered with a sigh. “With that bounty, being part of that crew, I thought you’d be better than that.”

“If I’m such a bad company, then maybe you should try keeping your distance from me,” you answered in the same beat, almost cutting him off. It surprised him, in a way he couldn’t even react in time. You snatched the glass from his hand and took a sip from the drink. At least it was good—maybe they spent their money on something worth it. They had some booze you’d like to share with Zoro if he were there.

“Who do you think you are?” Niji reached for the glass again, but you stood up and took a step back.

“Pirates will act like pirates,” you said, just to annoy him.

He growled as he stepped after you, stopping in frustration once you downed the rest of the drink. “You—”

“What will you do?” You raised your eyebrows, opening a window and tossing the glass out of it. His hand wrapped around your wrist tightly, but it didn’t even intimidate you. “Kill me? Yeah, you can’t. You gotta put up with me, at least until my crew is here, idiot. You must think you’re so cool with that damn stupid hair—”

“We can just find another way around the situation if you die,” Niji said as he cornered you. Maybe you wished you hadn’t chosen to sit in an empty part of the wide room, but you weren’t exactly opposed to a change in the boring routine there. “They won’t even know you’re dead until they get here.”

“And then what?” You raised your eyebrows. “You’ll get away by disappointing your father? I bet that stupid redhead would even tell him something like ‘I told you so’.”

Niji’s temper—or at least his behavior towards you—was a little more different from his siblings’. Reiju and Yonji didn’t seem particularly worried about you, but they didn’t do a lot when seeing you either; Yonji just made a comment trashing the Strawhats in general. Ichiji wasn’t nice, but he wasn’t responsive to your reactions; he decided that he was superior to you and just acted on it, not paying attention to ‘some pirate’. Niji, however, would attack you and get more intense when you responded, something almost childish, but that built a specific tension between you two. Was it just impulsive? Or did he enjoy it? You liked playing with it, either way. He wasn’t the priority to the others, at the moment, so he couldn’t actually harm you.

“You’re acting up a little too much for someone like you,” Niji muttered, but it was interrupted by a gasp when you stepped forward, bumping your chests together, and he was the one with his back against the wall instead.

A small chuckle escaped your lips. “You don’t know me. All you’ve seen is my bounty posters. When my crew gets here, if I get an actual opportunity to fight you…”

Niji scoffed. “I’d like to see it happen.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a small step back, but Niji immediately pushed you back by your shoulders, making you stumble back into one of the dark halls that connected to the main room. There was a turn before you were practically pinned to the wall again. It was relatively dark—the only light that came in was from outside a nearby wide window—and quiet, away from the main room. The whole attention was there and by the main halls, so it was practically deserted.

“Now what? What are you gonna do?” Niji asked before you could.

You clicked your tongue. “You’re so annoying!”

Niji started cursing as you tugged on his shirt to pull him away, resulting in the two of you pacing back and forth depending on how the strength imbalanced between you. It was a little annoying because he wasn’t doing anything other than pushing you around, so you decided to just let go instead of fighting against him.

Something incoherent came from Niji, breath hitching in his throat as he managed to pin you to the wall—it knocked the air out of you a little since your back hit the wall more force than you expected since you’d given up suddenly. When he pinned you to the wall, however, one of his legs slipped between yours.

…Were you imagining things? Maybe he didn’t notice, breathing fanning over your face as he still panted, smelling like the booze from earlier.

“Niji,” you muttered.

“What?” His voice was sharp. A little pathetic.

You pondered the results of what you wanted to say, silent for a moment, feeling his grip tightening on you. Well, there was nothing to lose with an idiot like that.

The way you shifted made Niji stiffen a little bit—his eyes probably widened behind his glasses. Your thigh was right between his legs, too, pressing right to his crotch, and now moving against it.

“If you wanted a fuck, you could’ve asked for one,” you said with a chuckle, observing him intently. It was a shame it was so dark, and you couldn’t see his face that much.

“Don’t you—” Niji fell silent as you moved your leg a bit, breath hitching in his throat and replacing his words with a whimper at how your thigh pressed harder against him this time. It was a two-edged sword, of course, since he had a leg right between yours as well.

“Shit,” you whispered. You hadn’t meant that to feel good for you as well.

On the other hand, Niji grinned at your reaction. He leaned in lightly, but your hand grasped around his neck to hold him a safe distance away from you as you glared at him. It probably didn’t have as much power as you intended it to have, given the darkness, but it still was something.

“How about I ask you for one now, hm?” Niji whispered, breath hot against the side of your face as he tugged on your shirt a little. You still held his neck, tightening your grip a little—did he whimper because of the discomfort or because of enjoyment? Fuck. Things weren’t supposed to go that way nor make you feel that way.

“I hate you,” you whispered.

Niji grinned more. “That’s the fun.”

There was barely time to react before his lips were pressed to yours. The kiss was a little forceful and harsh, but it wasn’t bad. Groans escaped your throat with how much teeth he added, biting and tugging on your lips with his teeth as if insisting a reaction out of you.

“Goddammit,” you whispered, tightening your grip around his neck until he gasped again, so you could finally keep up with the kiss. You tried to keep it a little superficial, threatening to let your nails sink into his neck whenever he started deepening the kiss or nibbling on your lips again. He became more vocal with it, whimpering a lot more, even moaning when your leg moved between his again. Was he needy?

You shifted, exchanging positions with Niji to press him to the wall this time. His hair brushed against your face as you kept kissing him—it was easier to control the kiss by keeping his head to the wall—, and it was far from nice.

“That hair of yours is ridiculous,” you muttered, moving to kiss down the side of his neck which his hair didn’t fall to. Your hand held mostly under his jaw now, tilting his head back.

Niji groaned, his hands finding your waist and gripping with more force than necessary. “Ridiculous? Watch your mouth!”

“Shut the fuck up!” You said sharply before giving him a sharper bite on his neck. It made him whimper, of course, but he did fall silent. “Good,” you muttered, pulling back for a moment. “Maybe you should be the one to watch your mouth, y’know?”

He twisted his lips a little, but he couldn’t do a lot before the hands on his shoulders were pushing him down until he was on his knees, right in front of you. Since you hadn’t moved, he was practically trapped between your crotch and the wall. You wished you could see his eyes, without those glasses, but the surprised expression on his face was pleasing either way.

“Is that mouth of yours only good for insulting others?” You undid your pants—they’d been uncomfortably tight for a while, so you couldn’t help the groan that escaped your lips as soon as you lowered your pants and boxers. You stepped back to give Niji some space, but your cock still brushed against his cheek as you did so.

“I…” Niji interrupted himself, cheeks red as he slowly reached to hold on to your thighs. He hummed softly, letting his tongue run between his lips to wet them.

“Let me help you,” you whispered, placing a finger under his chin to hold his head up. “Open wide, prince.”

Niji’s lips parted open, tongue out, ready to receive your cock as you guided it into his mouth with your free hand. The warm, wet feeling made you gasp, letting out a moan when Niji actually closed his lips around you. His hands adjusted around your hips before he actually started moving his head—he moved slowly at first, experimenting, and when he saw that he could actually snatch moans from you, he hollowed his cheeks.

A sharp gasp came from you, with Niji’s actions—his fingers sank into your hips as he moved his head, putting more energy into it. He only took a pause as he slowly took you deeper, making your tip reach the back of his throat, before he swallowed around you and pulled away agonizingly slowly. He wrapped a hand around the base to hold your cock in place while he tongued your tip, easily finding a spot under it that made you double over, with a forearm on the wall before you and hand tight around his shoulder.

“Fucking hell!” You moved to tug on the hair on the back of his head until he pulled away from you. “I won’t last like that!”

“Weak,” Niji said simply, licking his lips. He was messy.

“I’ll show you who’s…” Your words turned into thoughts as you motioned for him to stand up. He did so, kissing your neck as soon as he was on his feet. As much as you wanted to argue, you just let him be for a while, enjoying the nibbling and sucking on your neck while your hands worked on unbuttoning his pants.

Niji’s pants and boxers were off only one of his legs, just as he only had a shoe on by now. The urgency couldn’t have you two affording removing your clothes carefully. Your pants were just low enough, even.

It didn’t take a lot of struggle to have Niji up in your arms, legs around your torso, given how eager he also seemed about all of this. He tried his best not to pull away from the kiss he brought you into as soon as he’d ‘undressed’ himself.

Both of you gasped once you slipped in, your cock still wet from the way he’d blown you, but it still met a little of resistance when you pushed in. It took a few thrusts until you could fuck him properly, but he’d been moaning ever since you’d first pressed to his entrance. His arms wrapped around your shoulders, nails digging into your upper back through your shirt as he held on to you, keeping pressing pecks to your lips. Did he like kissing that much?

The way Niji’s thighs were smooth under your hands made you wonder if the vanity ran in the bloodline. Your fingers sank a little into the flesh before you changed the position. It took you a little of struggle, but you finally managed to slip your arms under his legs, elbows under his knees as you held him against the wall, and the new position easily allowed you to go deeper.

A louder sound escaped Niji’s lips when you started a faster pace, snapping your hips against his.

“You’re loud,” you muttered to him, words slipping between heavy breaths. “Shut the fuck up, unless you want anyone to catch you. What if one of your brothers happened to run into us, hm? Seeing you get banged by some pirate you guys captured,” you breathed into his ear.

Somehow, your words only made Niji more vocal. He clenched around you, gummy walls pulling your cock deeper inside him, practically milking you. You let out a throaty moan, letting your thrusts get harsher. If you two get caught, the trouble would be his, either way. Loser.

“You’re good,” you whispered into his ear, “but you know who’s better? Sanji does such a good job.”

Niji hissed, clenching around you again as his nails scratched across your back. “Shut up,” he said, voice shaky and stuttering, and you could feel his thighs tensing up more under your hands. “I just—” He hissed when you slammed harder into him, getting impossibly tighter around you.

“You never stop being pathetic,” you muttered, voice tight.

Both of you stopped talking, letting that relative silence permeate the next minutes as something ticked. The growing warmth in your lower stomach was the same that Niji felt, growing closer with each thrust.

A small whine came from Niji once you took a pause, adjusting your grip lightly, just to be cut off by a gasp and another loud moan the moment you started moving your hips again, using the last bit of energy you had to fuck a little harsher into him.

Niji wrapped his arms tighter around you, breath hot on your neck as he moaned, and with a few more sloppy thrusts, you were cumming deep inside him. You kept fucking him through your high, spreading the cum over his walls neatly, until you finally pulled away and let him down to his feet. His legs were a little wobbly, weak with being fucked so nicely like that, so he had to hold on you while you wrapped your hand tightly around his cock, fisting it until he finally came all over your hand.

There barely was time to react before your hand was pressed to his mouth, not giving Niji much of a choice in his disoriented state aside from licking your hand clean. With your head not so fuzzy anymore, both of you slowly coming out of that bubble, you could notice the marks on Niji’s neck even in the dark.

“Heh… good luck with your neck.”

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

[genshindsau]

I just felt like writing something different. I realized I have written Diluc to be rather docile, submissive, etc. Which in some ways he is, especially when he is around the reader. However, I wanted to explore the other side of him. After all he has been by the readers side longer than anyone (asides from Zhongli) and has stood by her through out even her more horrendous actions.

Kaeya, for the first time, was nervous to be around Diluc.

When you spend so much time around someone, you believe you know how to read them. Yet as Kaeya met Diluc's hardened gaze, reality slaps him hard across the face.

He cannot recall a time where Diluc appeared as anything other than a gentle soul. Someone who can make even the toughest walls of an individual crumble. You're evidence enough to this. The way you care about Diluc. The way you subtly cherish him in ways you think others can't notice. He's broken through you in ways that slim to none have.

Kaeya knew this. Kaeya experienced this. That is why he can't wrap his mind around the Diluc who is in front of him.

Diluc isn't treated special for no reason - Kaeya thought. Diluc has been by your side longer than any of the other harem members. Diluc has remained loyally by your side even as you commit atrocities that cause Kaeya's stomach to churn. It's Diluc, who may despise blood, grime, and violence, who welcomes you into his arms even when you're coated with blood and guts. When your mind is lingering in a violent place that causes other to keep you at a distance (even Kaeya himself at times) Diluc actively steps towards you, shortening the distance between you and him.

"However," Kaeya was dragged out of his thought, his eyes once more focusing on Diluc.

Kaeya's hands twitched at his side, aching to grasp onto one another in order to ground himself but he refrained. He wasn't going to portray any weakness. Not in a situation he had no idea how to deal with.

"If any harm come to Y/n, or the others in the harem, due to your actions, I will not be so forgiving."

There wasn't a single tremor in Diluc's voice. Nor did his eyes flicker away from Kaeya's.

"My words carry more precedence, after all."

The kind Diluc that Kaeya was so used to was missing.

Kaeya understands the implication of Diluc's words. You trust Diluc and if Diluc were to have any suspicion and relay it back to you, you would take it seriously. Kaeya may have been by your side for a few years but he knows that Diluc's word's would easily triumphant over his own.

This was a new side of Diluc. A side Kaeya thought didn't exist.

Kaeya was well aware that there were individuals who questioned Diluc's position at your side and his possible rise to the emperor's seat. The general public does admire Diluc for his soft-spoken demeanor. Afterall, it is a very soothing contrast to your own harsh demeanor. However, many doubt his ability to handle the other side that came with being the Emperor; the scheming, the politics, always having to be one step a head of anyone else. Many people believe that Ayato would be a more suitable choice to be Emperor due to him being more comfortable with this side that comes with power.

Looking at Diluc now… he realized that he - just like the public - had let their guards down. Diluc is showing that he would be more than capable of handling the pressure that came with being emperor.

Kaeya wanted to shout to Diluc that it wasn't what he was thinking. That he would never do something to harm y/n or the others. That is was all his family's doing but he froze. His mouth closed tight.

In some fucked up part of himself he couldn't betray his family. He couldn't tell Diluc what they were planning; that they were using him as a means to disrupt the harem and cause internal strife.

That is why Diluc had found the poison and the letters. They didn't like that Diluc still retained the highest-ranking position. His family wouldn't even consider the fact that some one as docile and soft as Diluc would ever be considered as the future emperor. 

If only they could see the Diluc that stood across from him now.

[bp-zb1fics]

My heart keeps on

pairing: na kamden x secret s/o reader

pronouns: none used

genre: canonverse  (finale), angst ish, fluff

tw/tags: long distance relationship, very emo in general, a lot of tears LIKE A LOT, you surprise kamden twice, citing ep 12 as my ref for all this, kinda secret relationship, realities of dating a trainee/idol, reunions so more emo, cuddles, cheek kissing, using a pic as a page break, yes the title is fr kam’s rap in switch ty for noticing 💜

wc: 2178

summary: kamden hasn’t seen you in over a year. you surprise him.

a/n this was supposed to be a gift fic for 101 followers but y'all are 200 now 😭😱 omg so thanks so much for supporting my little blog!!! I know this took a little longer than expected so thanks so much for patiently waiting! 💜Special thanks to the anon who sent me an ask about missing kamden and especially to @seok02 for giving me the motivation to finish this fic and kinda just helping me with the overall process 💜💜💜

check my pinned for more fics!

“Star Creator, we always thank you and love you!”

They wrap up the pajama party livestream, thanking the staff and staying to chat as the cameras are switched off. (Or so they think, lol)

“The vibe was pretty good,” Kamden tells Matthew. The other boy agreeing instantly.

“I think we were able to show new sides of ourselves.”

Suddenly the staff play a recording, surprising them all. It’s video messages from Star creators all over the world for them to watch. Kamden grabs a fluffy pillow as he watches everyone slowly get emotional. Seungeon cries. Zhang Hao cries. Yujin cries. Almost everyone is crying. 

Kamden gets a message from a fan in Norway, which is pretty cool. Then, something he never expected happens. He recognises your voice before he even realises it’s you.

“Kamden, annyeong~”

The pillow falls off his lap.

It’s you. It’s really you. You who he hasn’t been able to video call in a few days because of practice and your schedule and the time difference. He almost calls out your name but it sits tight in his throat, unable to reach you. 

You’re on screen, wearing one of the shirts you’ve stolen from him, holding onto the plushie he bought for you at that silly little shop after you insisted it looked like him. God, he hasn’t seen you in over a year.

“Dude, you okay?” Jay asks him softly.

He must look like an idiot, eyes blown wide, mouth slightly open, hanging onto every word that comes out of your mouth.

“I’ve been watching Boy’s Planet since the teasers were released. And you’ve always been my favourite.”

Kamden knows. You’ve been spamming your chat with him with all these little clips from the PR videos to the behind the scenes footage. Screenshots of you voting for him on the Mnet+ app, comments you’ve left on his fancam videos, even the funny memes you found of him on Twitter all greet him when he opens his phone after practice.

Hope my favourite trainee is doing well and staying healthy! Take care of yourself and know I’m always rooting for you! I love and miss you so much! Hoping for your debut!

Your messages are his favourite. And speaking of:

“I’ve made a little compilation of photos right here. I hope you like how I decorated them, I really tried my best~”

All the trainees ooh and ahh over the handmade album you bring up to the screen compiled with photos of him from the program and cute little notes and stickers. Kamden can’t move, can’t talk. 

Because that’s your album, the one you had insisted on starting when he and you began dating. He knows that if you flipped to the other pages, it would be full of photos of both of you, dates, anniversaries, birthdays, holidays, awards that either of you might have won, events that were important to you or him or both of you, everything carefully labelled. It was one of your favourite things to print out all the photos and he’d help you decorate them.

He can’t believe you kept that up after he left for Korea.

“You’ve stood out to me in every performance. You’re so talented and so many people are cheering you on so please remember to have confidence in yourself.” Your voice wavers a little towards the end of the sentence and as slight as it is, he catches that. He knows you.

Kamden only registers the wetness on his cheeks when the tears are already going, fast and furious. He reaches up, trying to dab them away gently with his sleeve. On screen, you blink rapidly and he knows you’re trying your best not to cry either. Even thousands of miles away, on a video you probably recorded weeks ago, you and him are still in sync. Maybe the rest of the trainees don’t see it but he does. Of course he does.

“I hope you take care of yourself always. Make sure to eat enough and get enough rest. I’ll be voting for you everyday so just do your best in practice and performing and us Star Creators will take care of the rest. We’ll support you so you can achieve your dream of debuting~”

To everyone else, you were just a particularly supportive fan. But to Kamden, you were his person, the one he was devoted to and he can’t help it, sobbing a little into his sleeve. Several pats on the back as the other trainees around him try to comfort him. He can’t help but cry even more. Why were you so far away? Why couldn’t you be here where he could hug you and kiss you and just be with you?

“Na Kamden hwaiting! Saranghae~”

That’s it. He turns and buries his face fully into his hands as if doing that would soak up all the tears that won’t stop coming. Matthew and Jay have scooted over, voices overlapping as they rub his shoulders and back and ask what’s wrong. Even Zhang Hao’s hovering a little on the side, equally concerned.

Maybe he’ll say something later, when there are no mics and no cameras. He’s been training for years and you’ve both agreed that in a career like the one he aspires to get into, keeping it quiet would be the best. Idols don’t date. Idols don’t have a significant other in a whole other country that they call when they can find free time. Even when it comes to casual conversation where there isn’t a camera directly trained on them, Kamden just doesn’t say anything.

They do ask him later. And when he says you’re a close friend he hasn’t seen in awhile, their faces light up in recognition. He leaves it at that.

You walk into the arena with a little trepidation. 

It’s all been a blur. Packing your things, flying to Korea, meeting up with Kamden’s mom and brother who have been kind enough to get you a ticket pass for the family section. Of course, he has no idea you’re even here.

You’re quite a bit more nervous about surprising him than you thought. While you’d give anything to see him again, it was a little risky in such a public venue with so many people watching and cameras everywhere filming almost any angle. Maybe you can be discreet enough if you do break down but Kamden’s on stage, the spotlights bright and on him. Fans are probably filming him on their own devices.

At this point, you’ll just have to trust your boyfriend to keep his reactions to a believable level. You don’t stand too close to his family, trying to keep your distance but also staying near enough that you’d be in the same general direction if Kamden glanced your way.

You end up on the side, along with a few other people who seem to be dressed as discreetly as you, masks on too. The looks you exchange seem to come to a general understanding of why you’re all here and who you’re here for.

Kamden doesn’t notice you when the Top 18 first file in. You don’t expect him to but you see him though. There’s a growing knot in your stomach, emotions welling up from actually seeing him not through a screen but so close that you could walk on stage and touch him. You don’t do that, of course. But still, he’s so near that it almost hurts not being able to throw yourself into his arms for a hug.

You’ve wanted this so much, especially after more than a year of not seeing him. But right now, you feel frozen. You only watch as they start getting into positions for the signal song. Fans are cheering, even the family members and friends of the trainees are calling out words of support. Still, your voice sticks to your throat, as much as you want to shout out, something keeps you from doing it.

Good thing Kamden’s brother does it for you. It probably surprises you and his mom more than it should but who can blame you when he almost never does that? Kamden’s surprised too, maybe it’s a twin thing but he immediately stands up straighter looking for where his brother’s voice is coming from.

And then he sees you.

His eyes meet yours and they widen considerably. His mouth even drops open a little. You’re smiling so much and you’re sure it shows from how your eyes crinkle, just a little glossy. But you’re not going to cry just yet. Instead, you wave at him. He can’t do much more than give a little wave back before they seem to be ready to start filming. 

Suddenly, your heart feels just a little lighter. You step back and watch him dance the signal song. You’ve seen him do it a thousand times, every time you stream his video. It feels so surreal, being able to see it like this, right in front of you. When the song ends, you see his eyes flick back in your direction, searching for your face. When he finds it, his expression brightens.

It’s amazing, watching someone you love do what they love. Sure, you’ve seen Kamden dance, you’ve gotten him to sing and even rap for you a little before. But it’s different with the stage and the lights and the crowd and he looks so comfortable there. You laugh when you see the Jelly Pop teaser, maybe you’ll get him to wear that dress again, just so you can get photos. The final song is almost bittersweet and you try your best but a few tears do slip out.

He’s messaged you about barely making it to the finale, you’ve monitored the program, watched his rank. You both know his chances are slim. But they’re possible. Still, he’s told you that he’s prepared for the equal possibility of not debuting. His company should have plans, he assured you. You watch him walk over to every one of his fellow trainees who’ve made it to debut, offering hugs and congratulating them. And as the number of spots dwindle, you keep your hopes up but you begin to accept it as well.

By the time they’ve called third, you watch as he walks over to Matthew, one of the trainees he’s closest with from what he’s told you. Maybe he lingers a little longer. Maybe you catch his eyes as he looks over. Hwaiting! You mouth, shaking your fists a little in encouragement. The emotions are swirling inside you. When the camera pans over to him, he’s teary eyed, covering his face the way he always does when he gets like that. You can’t help it. The emotions are starting to spill over and you breathe between the occasional tears.

After they announce the ninth place, everything suddenly starts moving so fast and so slow. They wrap up filming. The audience begins to file out. The cameras switch off one by one. You go backstage.

When he walks in, mic gone, still in that uniform that you keep teasing about, you don’t hold back. His arms wrap around you and you fall into him, holding him so tightly you wish you didn’t need to let go. And then both of you start crying.

“I missed you so much, Kam.” You’re holding onto the fabric of his jacket, gripping at it so desperately you’re almost afraid it might rip.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” He manages, his head somehow buried on your shoulder, tears soaking the cloth of your shirt.

“Surprise?” It comes out weak, a little shaky as you both laugh brokenly through your sobs.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” He holds you even tighter, like he’s afraid you might fade into thin air.

“I’ll be here for a while.” You tell him. “I wish I could’ve come sooner but-”

“It’s okay seriously, you’re here now.” If he squeezes you anymore, you feel like your heart might burst. “I’m so happy to see you.”

He goes back with you. There’s few brief introductions to Jay and Matthew and a few other trainees he’s grown close with, nudges and knowing looks and raised eyebrows. But it’s nothing to stress about, you manage to make it back under the radar.

You feel him watching you as you grab a few more things from your suitcase after both of you have showered and you’re wearing another one of his old shirts. Before you know it, your legs are tangled together, your head resting on his shoulder, your hands intertwined. 

“I don’t want to sleep,” he says quietly. “I don’t want to wake up and find out this is a dream and you aren’t here.”

“You aren’t dreaming, Kam.” You reassure him, lifting your head to kiss his cheek. Even in the privacy of this room, he blushes.

“Even if I didn’t make it, at least I have you.”

“You do, Kam. You always do.” And you know he will make it, one day.

[ebongawk]

hellcheer + mini golf pls

"Eddie, no."

"Eddie, yes."

"Eddie, no!"

"Christ, Cunningham, what are you? My mom?"

"What? Ew, Eddie, no."

"I'm calling Child Protective Services and telling them my mother sticks her tongue down my throat."

"Eddie, gross!"

"And that she likes it."

Chrissy tried to swallow her laugh; she really did. Tried to keep a stern face, lips pursed around her serious expression. Her finger pressed against her boyfriend's chest as she grasped his metal golfclub with the opposite hand.

It was, however, a fruitless endeavor. Because she, for whatever reason, found Eddie's absurdity humorous, and the laughter side-stepped the lump of refusal in her esophagus. Sounding almost like a backfiring car as it slipped undaintily from her throat.

Eddie clocked it, his eyes glistening with victory as he carefully unpeeled her fingers from around his club.

"Alright, alright," he sighed, holding his arms up in submission. "I will not, in fact, treat your precious game of mini golf like it's real golf and hit the ball as hard as I possibly can." He smirked, leaning toward her. "Satisfied?"

Giving a little harrumph, Chrissy crossed her arms with an eyeroll. "I'll believe it when I see it, Munson."

Eddie grinned, feral and wild and glorious, as he grabbed his ball and set it on the raised green pad of turf. He lined up, shimmying his hips a little, and Chrissy giggled. Throwing a look over his shoulder, he made a show of wiggling his entire body that had her snorting with her hands pressed over her mouth. He reminded her of Gumby, sometimes, in the way he moved. Boneless limbs and flailing joints.

And, honestly, he did look a little ridiculous. All black clothes and silver chains, holding a bright pink golf club and matching pink golf balls that he grabbed before she had the chance, because, "You always get to be pink, sweetness, give someone else a turn." Standing on chemical-green turf and gently whacking balls into downscaled windmills and off the backs of cartoonish plastic animals.

Mean and scary. It made Chrissy laugh anymore, trying to perceive how he might look to the general population and failing miserably.

All she ever saw when she looked at him was her Eddie.

And her Eddie was ready and willing to take her mini golfing after she mentioned in passing the opening of a new course in Fort Wayne. Showing up on her doorstep with one of those ridiculous checkered golf hats he said he found at a thrift store and wrapping his arms and legs around her to get it on her head.

(She had to admit, it was kinda cute. Even if he did mess up her hair.)

"Watch this, baby! Boutta make a hole-in-one."

"I'm gonna guess a bogey, actually."

"Even better!"

"It isn't!"

"Well, it's a cooler word, at least," Eddie said, pulling back and tapping the ball. He still somehow managed to hit it way too hard, the force sending it flying through the air and making it bounce off the side of the drawbridge he was trying to get it over.

Her former boyfriend would've gotten extremely frustrated at that. Called mini golf a waste of time and said he wasn't playing anymore. He'd pretend that he'd wait for her at the concession stand, like he was granting her permission to finish the game alone, but would throw a fit if she actually tried to play the remaining holes.

Eddie did absolutely none of that.

Eddie threw his head back and cackled as the ball ricocheted off the wooden bridge and flew back further than it was when he set up his shot. He nearly toppled himself trying to catch it, which only made him laugh harder, looking back at Chrissy with bright eyes. Like a forest in autumn, sunlight streaming through browning leaves.

"How many points is that?"

"It's one!"

"What? No way. That was at least ten, Cunningham. Did you see the way it arched?"

"Eddie, points in golf are bad."

"Well, I don't feel bad," he replied, sauntering toward her as he twirled his golf club. Which almost immediately went careening out of his hand, landing on the turf with a dull thud. He looked at it like it had disappointed him before closing the remaining distance between them.

"You don't feel bad because you didn't bother learning the rules," she stressed, even as a new grin tugged at her lips, trying to find life that she suffocated as best as she could.

The moment Eddie's arm wrapped around her waist, she lost the battle.

"Rules are overrated anyway," he shrugged. "I think my way is way more fun."

Humming, Chrissy shrugged, trying to keep a disinterested air that was betrayed immensely by the firmly affixed smile she couldn't shake.

"Too bad you didn't invent the game then," she shot back as Eddie pulled her closer to him.

"God, that would've set us up for life," he lamented, slumping toward her. "Who needs rock n' roll when you're rolling in that sweet mini golf cash?"

Her heart gave a little flutter at the implication, the hand not still holding her orange golf club spreading across his pectoral.

"'Us', huh?" she asked. Eddie's eyebrows shot up, his head tilted to one side as he searched her eyes. For what, she didn't know, but whatever he found seemed satisfactory with the way they warmed.

"Definitely us," he agreed, tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek as he made a show of thinking. "Right up until you divorced me, anyway."

"Wouldn't I just get half of that sweet mini golf cash, then?"

"What? You think I went into this post-mini-golf-invention marriage without a prenup? I'm crazy, Cunningham, but I'm not insane."

Chrissy squawked indignantly. "You would make me sign a prenup?"

"Well, yeah! How else am I supposed to convince you to stay tethered to me forever?"

"Oh, my God."

"Are you saying you'd divorce me and leave yourself broke?" He scoffed. "Unlikely, baby. Gotta incentivize you with money, since clearly my body isn't enough."

"Oh, my God, Eddie––"

Her rebuttal was cut off as Eddie closed the scant space between them, capturing her lips with his and swallowing down her retort. Chrissy melted into it without permission, sighing into his kiss and falling headfirst into the familiar cadence of their shared sonnet. The hand on his chest abandoned its post, curling around his neck so her fingers were tucked into his hair and keeping him tethered for as long as possible.

They only broke apart when someone wolf-whistled from another course, both of them panting as red blossoms of embarrassment bloomed under her cheeks.

"I know, right?" he called back to their unknown spectator. Then, quieter, for only her to hear, he said, "Fifty points at least."

Laughing, Chrissy tucked her forehead against his collar as she caught her breath.

Gosh, she loved him.

"How many bogeys do we have left, Cunningham?"

"We're only on the fourth hole."

"Ah, the forbidden fourth hole, is it?" He waggled his eyebrows, and she laughed even more.

"Of eighteen, Eddie."

"Well fuck, we better start hitting balls! Stop distracting me with your feminine wiles, Chrissy, it's unfair!"

"Don't blame me! You kissed me, mister!"

"Oh, you are definitely getting served a prenup."

[becca-alexa]

Baby, It's Cold

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’re snowed in with no heat, so you suggest sharing body heat to keep from freezing - but how far will things go between you and Steve?

Word Count: 6.3K

Content Warnings: p in v sex, general smut, cursing, consensual touching

Author’s Note: feedback appreciated!! i don't have much experience writing stuff like this, and i figured practice makes perfect 💗

    It was a miracle Robin had managed to snag the cabin - who in their right mind would ever rent out an entire villa in the woods to a bunch of twenty-somethings? It was unheard of, or so she claimed, because none of them could get her to shut up about how well she'd haggled for the place, how she'd bartered with the owner over coffee and used her mile-a-minute voice to confuse them into signing off on them staying the weekend.

    The place was far, far outside of Hawkins, an urgently-welcome retreat for all of you after what had proved to be the most difficult year of your lives. Nancy, Robin, Jonathan, Argyle, Eddie, you and Steve - you'd all made plans to meet up and drive over together; Eddie had given his van a well-needed tune up specifically for this trip, so that it could handle everyone and everything in one go. But, as was quickly - annoyingly - becoming the norm with your group, your plans fell through… sort of.

    "What do you mean, you're stuck in Indy?" Steve tried to keep his voice down as he balanced the payphone receiver against his ear, hands shoved into the pockets of his jean jacket as he braced himself against the cold. "Robbie, we've been planning this trip for weeks-"

    "I know, I know!" Robin hurriedly replied; you tried not to giggle too loudly as Steve rolled his eyes. "But Nancy had this thing she needed to pick up, and Eddie had offered to drive us, then Jonathan and Argyle wanted to tag along-"

    "What, so you didn't think to tell me about your little day trip?" Steve dragged a hand through his styled hair, shifted from one leg to the other, slapping a hand against his thigh in exasperation. Can you believe her?, he mouthed to you, biting back a grin when you shook your head.

    "Just go with [Y/N]!" Robin insisted - and in retrospect, you'd realize she'd insisted a bit too intently, but you weren't thinking of that now.

    What you were thinking of was how in Heaven's name were going to survive the entire three-hour drive up to the cabin, alone with Steve Harrington.

    Your best friend, your bat-wielding protector, the sole object of your desires - Hell, he was the only crush you'd ever had, and even after so many years, your affections for the man still ran as deep as ever.

    "Robin says they'll meet us at the cabin tomorrow." Steve asked, holding the phone away from his face as he turned toward you, head falling to the side, hair bouncing over his face. "That okay with you?"

    "T-That's fine." You reply with a nod, staring at the lock that had fallen over his forehead, and you prayed he hadn't picked up on how your voice had cracked.

    "You owe us, Robbie." Steve replied gruffly, but you knew there was no bite to his words. "Seriously this time."

    "Sure, sure! Whatever!" Robin hurriedly replied; from where you were standing, you could barely make out what sounded like Argyle… shouting at someone? "Drive safe!"

    "Rob-" The line went dead, loudly buzzing in his ear; Steve groaned as he all but slammed the receiver against the payphone, his brows furrowing as he began to lose himself in his thoughts. You took a step toward him, bridging the gap that'd been left between you; your fingers were soft as they brushed over his skin, trailing over the soft hair covering his forearm, pulling him out of his own head.

    "Steve, it'll be fine." Your voice was quiet, and you hoped it'd calm him down - the last thing you needed was Steve driving up a rugged, unfamiliar mountain upset. "We'll try calling again when we get there, okay?"

    He nodded, blinking at the warm smile you gave him - your smiles were always warm, always gentle, but every time he'd be graced with it, he'd remind himself not to get too excited.

    You smiled at everyone like that, he'd convinced himself, desperate to believe it were true, that the look of pure sunshine on your face wasn't just for him - because how could it be?

    It was, but that's another story.

    You walked to his car, your pace picking up to a jog as the bitter cold sunk through your clothes. Steve beat you to it, holding the door open for you.

    "Ever the gentleman, huh?" You teased, climbing into the seat and pulling the heavy thing shut behind you.

    Had you hesitated just for a moment longer, you'd have caught how Steve burned at your words, how he'd licked his dry lips nervously as his mind froze up, hands trembling as they fisted at his sides.

    You weren't the only one with a lingering crush.

    Taking a steeling breath, he walked over to the driver's side, hands cupped over his mouth as he shut the door, working desperately to stave off the chill biting at his fingertips.

    "Ready?" The car roared to life beneath his hands, the sound a welcome comfort ahead of your long journey; you cranked the heating up to the highest setting. Again, you smiled at him, fuzzy and soft; he smiled in return, and he pulled the car out of the gas station parking lot and onto the main road.

    You'd been driving for hours.

    "You find it yet?" asked Steve, glancing at you for what felt like the millionth time as you scanned the map creased and wrinkled atop your lap, your brows furrowed in concentration as you traced your finger over one of many wiggling lines.

    "There should be a road up ahead on the left…" You mumbled in reply, flipping the map upside down, this way and that. Should you have brought a compass? "Maybe the right…? No, wait, definitely the left."

    "You sure?" Steve asked hesitantly - he'd driven through more open country roads and empty spatterings of woods than he could remember; in the dark, he couldn't even tell he was driving uphill.

    "You don't trust my cartography skills, Harrington?" Your lifted your brow, your tongue sticking out of the corner of your pressed lips. "Take the next left, then it should be at the end of the road."

    "I trust you, but this baby's only got so much gas." You laughed at him, clear and pleasant, his smile widening at the sound of it. "Here?"

    "Yeah, turn here."

    The car jumped as it crossed off the main road and onto the dirt, leading up the side of whatever mountain you were on; Steve's hand flew out to hold you down before he could think to stop himself, and you clung to him as the jolting continued on, both of you only relaxing when the cabin finally came into view.

    And, boy, was it a view.

    "Robin got us this?" You exclaimed, gaping at the expansive cabin before you, eyes sparkling as Steve turned the interior light on. "This is amazing!"

    "It's a cabin." Steve shrugged, and your head snapped to look at him - he sounded… unimpressed? "What? I think it's nice." You rolled your eyes at him and climbed out of the car; he followed closely behind, insisting he carry your bag, ignoring your protests against it altogether.

    As though the outside of the cabin wasn't impressive enough, the inside was lavish enough that even Steve was taken by surprise. Two floors, six bedrooms, wall-to-wall log paneling, a massive fireplace across the main living room stocked to overflow with cut firewood.

    "'S it still just nice?"

    "It's really nice."

    The both of you explored the space, running from room to room, gawking at the luxurious kitchen and the equally-massive wraparound deck leading out from it. And, having taken in your fill, the two of you begin making dinner - rather, Steve was making dinner and you were relegated to chopping and slicing duty, the conversation between you lighthearted and teasing.

    Midway through your simple stir-fry dinner, seated in the kitchen, you were the first to notice the change in the weather.

    "Steve," You nudged him, and he gave you a questioning look, stopping mid-chew to look at whatever you were pointing at. "It's snowing!"

    "Huh." His brows furrow, his gaze dropping to nothing. "The weather report didn't mention snow."

    "It shouldn't be too bad, right?" You tried to reassure him - and yourself, too - as you followed his train of thought. "They'll make it by tomorrow, for sure."

    "Yeah, for sure…" Steve didn't sound too convinced, but you didn't push the conversation further. Seeing as how he'd made dinner, you volunteered to do the dishes. And, ever the good friend, he'd kept you company, even drying off and putting away whatever you'd finished washing.

    "Steve, I said I was doing the dishes…" You huffed, pulling the damp towel slung over his shoulder and giving his chest a light-hearted swat.

    "What, I'm not allowed to help?" He danced around you, snatching back the towel, and you swiveled around to reach him; he lifted the towel far above your head, well out of your reach, laughing as you tried to jump for it.

    "Steve Harrington, give that back!"

    "Just let me-"

    Stricken mid-sentence, the lights flickered.

    You froze - you both did, Steve's arm an instant vice as he held you against his chest. Neither of you spoke, neither breathed as you listened for the tell-tale sounds of danger, of an unholy nightmare resurrected. You buried your face into the solid safety of his chest, clinging to his shirt as his eyes scanned the room. Several painful, heavy minutes passed before you slowly began to feel him relax, his hold on you loosening ever so slightly.

    "Let me go check the power…" he mumbled, his reluctance palpable as he left you alone, all but running down the hallway to where he'd remembered seeing a breaker box. Throwing it open, he flicked through every switch, yet the cabin remained shrouded in darkness.

    Shutting the panel door, and rounding the corner back into the kitchen, he narrowly missed being hit across the eye by the empty vase you'd commandeered as a weapon.

    "Whoa! Watch the face!" He jumped back, falling out of your swinging range. "The power's out. Snow must've knocked down a line or something." He explained, voice assured, and you sagged in relief at his words, hands visibly shaking as you set the vase back atop the counter. Without missing a beat, Steve stepped toward you, taking your hands in his own, enveloping them, his touch silently pleading you to look at him.

    "Hey," His voice was buttery-soft, gentle in a way he only ever used with you. "There's nothing here. It's just us."

    You shake your head, swallowing dryly, your head falling to your chest as you steadied the erratic beating of your heart. "Y-Yeah, you're right."

    Steve nodded, calling forth every fiber of his being to let you go, to lose the warmth he'd found in your touch. Together, you'd made the most of things - you remembered seeing a box of candles in one of the closets, a pack of matches tucked away between them all, and in no time at all, the living room was bathed in the flickering, golden glow of over a dozen flames. You sat atop the supple leather couch, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you watched Steve light the logs in the fireplace.

    You were cold, your hands tucked against you, the tips of your toes already feeling numb - and from the way Steve rubbed at his arms, he'd felt it, too.

    "Should we… uh…" You tried to ask, your own embarrassment shriveling your words before you could get them out, hands shaking as you tugged anxiously at your fingers. "I-I mean, it's cold, and the fireplace-"

    You gave him an exasperated look, but Steve - bless his athletic soul - wasn't following.

    You groaned, dragging your hands through your hair as you blurted out, "We should sleep here."

    "On the floor?"

    "Yes, Steven, on the floor." You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his shock. "We can take a couple blankets and make a bed. It'll be warmer here than in the bedrooms."

    Steve turned away from you, staring into the cackling fire. To you, he was considering what you'd said, his expression pensive, almost blank - to him, he was failing to quell his boiling panic at the thought of having to sleep with you… beside you? Whatever - either way, you would be much too close to him and he was not prepared. There were only so many rooms - and therefore only so many blankets - in the cabin, so he knew you wouldn't be able to make two separate beds.

    He had to sleep with you.

    "I-I mean, you're right…"

    You gave him a confused look. "...But?"

    Steve took a deep breath, turning back toward you, and he swore you could see the way his heart pounded in his throat. "No, nothing." He stood up, brushed off his jeans, tried for his best smile - which came through as more of a lopsided grin, but that's beside the point. "Let's get those blankets, huh?"

    Between the two of you, you were proud of the bed you'd made, cozy under the pile of blankets and pillows; splitting for a minute, you both readied for bed, changing into your pajamas, brushing your teeth in the kitchen - Steve sensed your lingering unease at being in there, so he stood closer to you than he normally would, his hand finding the small of your back as the two of you walked back to the living room.

    "Which side do you want?" You asked him, suddenly feeling shy at seeing him in nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants and an old Hawkins Phys-Ed shirt - and, unbeknownst to you, your clothes were having the same effect on him, your oversized shirt reaching your knees like an old nightgown.

    "Doesn't matter." He pulled at the drawstring of his pants, suddenly intent on looking everywhere but at you. "I'll sleep like a rock, anyway."

    You snorted a laugh and crawled into your side of the bed. "Yeah, and you'll keep me up all night with your snoring."

    "I do not snore!" Steve exclaimed, and you laughed even harder at him, obviously having touched a sore spot. "I don't!"

    "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Steve." He gave you a withering look, and you collapsed in a fit of giggles - nervous giggles, but he didn't need to know that. He shook his head at you as he crawled in under the blankets, close to you yet still keeping a respectable distance.

    "Candles stay on?" He knew what your answer would be, but he asked anyway, his chest tight as you nodded.

    "Unless it bothers you-"

    "Doesn't bother me, sweetheart." He froze, his breath catching - he'd overstepped. Called you the wrong thing, gotten too comfortable. He waited for you to shake your head, to roll your eyes at him and turn around.

    But, nothing came.

    Steve watched, hands itching from the ferocity of his fraying nerves as you nodded, quieter than usual, curling up on your side as you continued to face him. He laid on his side, toward you, hands bunching the blanket up to his face as he tried to relax - not that he'd be getting much sleep around you, but he could pretend, for your sake.

    Minutes pass, the soft sputtering of the candles a soft harmony to the loud, almost rhythmic cackling of the fireplace. Even in the muted light, you notice Steve trembling beneath the blankets.

    He was cold.

    "Steve?" you whispered, moving closer to him, the sudden drop in temperature making your stomach flip. "Steve, are you okay?"

    "Hm…?" His eyes are slow to open, his voice much more tired than it had been mere moments ago; he'd curled up tighter - you just barely felt how his knees were tucked up to his chest. "What?"

    "You're shivering." You continued to inch closer, your body all but touching his, and for the life of him, he couldn't remember how to move. "Why didn't you say anything?"

    "I was fine before…" he grumbled, shaking his head, his jaw clenched to keep you from hearing his chattering teeth. "'M fine, just go back to sleep."

    You gave him a hard-pressed look, gaze narrowed at the top of his lowered head; before you could convince yourself to do otherwise, you began to fumble about beneath the blankets. Steve cracked an eye open to watch, only to catch you flinging your shirt somewhere off to the side.

    He swallowed audibly, his mind racing - and crashing - as he felt your arms envelope him, your chest pressed to his with only the thin barrier of his shirt between you.

    "[Y/N], w-what are you-"

    "Body heat." Your answer came quickly, much to his surprise, your hands leaving smoldering trails as you rubbed them over his back. "You need to stay warm, Steve."

    He nodded, two thoughts about you dominating his mind:

You were much more selfless than you gave yourself credit for.

You weren't wearing much of anything under that shirt.

    He tried to think of something to do, something to say, but the unfiltered heat radiating off of your skin was too enticing, too overwhelming. He tried getting closer to you, chasing your warmth, but something felt off; something was holding him back.

    In a flash, he'd tossed his shirt aside, the aged fabric landing somewhere near yours.

    "Steve-"

    "Body heat, right?" God, he hoped he didn't sound too breathless. "We can keep each other warm."

    You weren't about to fight that logic, were you?

    He shuffled closer to you, arms settling loosely around your waist, the frigid feeling of his hands trailing over your bare skin sending a shiver through you. Between you, you'd moved your hands up - almost as a buffer, ridiculous as that seemed. But, now you were in a new predicament - your fingers wove through the matte of hair on his chest; you could feel each curl, each wisp as he breathed, your touch both featherlight and branding. His head fell to your shoulder, and his arms tightened over so slightly around you.

    "How are you so hot…?" Steve asked; his head shot up, and you were given an excellent view of the blush spreading up his neck as he quickly amended, "Warm, I mean. Shit, I- You're really warm. N-Not that you're not hot-"

    You giggled, the movement brushing your chest against his, pulling out a gasp from somewhere deep within him that he'd just barely managed to catch. "You're not half-bad yourself, Harrington." Feeling you relax, he tried to do the same, leaning further into you, the scent of your citrus shampoo lulling him into a pleasant sort of halfway-sleep.

    "Uh… H-Hey, Steve…?" He could hear your voice, distant and somewhat muffled, and he grinned against the comfort of your shoulder. "Steve, are you awake?"

    "Yeah…?" He peeled open his eyes, pulled away enough to look at you, confused for only a moment as he tried to follow the way your gaze flicked to the space between you - and when he did, he stopped breathing, his stomach dropping to his half-thawed toes as he sprang away from you, his scalding face clear in the candlelight, hands pressed tightly between his legs.

    "Shit! I- Goddamnit, [Y/N], I didn't… I swear, I wasn't-"

    You watched on, stunned silent as Steve worked himself into a whole-hearted frenzy, shaking as he desperately tried to explain away why he'd gotten hard sleeping with you.

    "Was that… is it my fault?" You couldn't help yourself - here you were, sharing a bed with the man of your dreams, who'd gotten painfully aroused with you in his arms. Your words were barely above a whisper as you continued, "Are you like that because of me?"

    Part of you wished you'd disappear, another thinking of what you had within arm's reach that could be used to tear your own tongue out because who in their right mind asks something like that? You stared at him, lip worried between your teeth, eyes catching the light like a million stars in the night; Steve realized he was at an impasse - you both were.

    It was now or never.

    "Yeah, I… I am."

    Nothing could have prepared you for his answer; you felt as though the floor had collapsed beneath you, turned to quicksand and swallowed you into its grainy depths.

    "Steve-"

    "I like you, [Y/N]."

    You couldn't help the gasp that tumbled past your lips, nor could you quell the sudden flood of tears swelling in your eyes. His words flew around in your head, dominated your thoughts, demanded every ounce of your attention.

    I like you.

    I like you.

    I like you.

    "[Y/N], don't… don't cry- Shit, I didn't…" He'd moved back to you the instant he'd caught the first tear, his arms wrapping back around you - he'd kept his hips turned away from you, the angle awkward, but you didn't notice. "C'mon, baby, I'm sorry-"

    You shook your head, your breathing hiccupped, stuttered as you wiped at your dripping face. To his surprise, you'd laughed, the sound as wet and sodden as it was bubbling.

    "Steve, I'm not… I'm not upset." You tried to tell him, reassure him, meeting his concerned gaze through glossy lashes.

    "But, you're crying-"

    You took his hand in both of yours, held it between your bodies like a tether between souls; he could feel your pulse through your palm, quick and solid and strong.

    "[Y/N]-"

    "I like you, too, Steve."

    He barely believed what he'd heard - you liked him? You'd reciprocated his feelings? The crush he'd been achingly, lovingly nursing since high school was… mutual?

    "Y-You… You do?" He hated how insecure he sounds, how hesitant and uncertain he was; you gave him another blinding smile, dropping your hands as you pressed your bare chest to his.

    "I do." You thank the Heavens above that your voice hadn't wavered - he heard you clear as day, the fluttering he'd feel whenever he was near you now a full-on avalanche of jittery emotion. "I… uh… I have for a while now."

    "Really?"

    You nodded, hiding your face into a lump of bunched-up blanket.

    "How long have you…?"

    "You first." You insisted, your stomach in knots at his shy smile.

    "Since freshman year, at least." Steve replied smoothly, his confidence returning in drips and splashes - it was better than nothing, he'd conceded. "Never thought you'd give me a chance, though."

    "God, I've liked you since, like, fourth grade…" You'd groaned into the blanket, goosebumps running over your body as you caught his soft exhale.

    "Seriously?" He couldn't believe it - you'd been hiding your feelings for him for almost a decade?

    How had he not noticed?

    You'd pulled your head up from the blanket pile just enough to look at him, and you both collapsed into a fit of nervous, giddy laughter, the little space left between your bodies shrinking away. Steve was the first to settle down, staring into the depths of your eyes with the look of a man drowning in his love; he brushed a lock of hair behind your ear as your legs tangled together, his rough and pleasantly scratchy against yours, and he waited for you to quiet down before asking, 

    "Is this alright?"

    His hands were at your hips, his thumbs running over the thin elastic band of your underwear. So elated were you, you'd almost forgotten about his… situation.

    Almost.

    Calming yourself, you shifted, slowly pressed your body to his - your hips firm against him - as you nodded, cheeks pink as his rock-hard length throbbed against your stomach.

    "[Y/N]?"

    "Steve, I…" You couldn't bring yourself to ask for what you'd wanted - but, God, did you want to. Lord knows you did. Your head fell to his chest with a quiet groan of frustration, but he understood all the same.

    "[Y/N], look at me."

    You lost yourself in the endless depths of his eyes, your only thought to keep breathing as he reached for your hand.

    "If you don't want to, tell me to stop."

    He watched every flicker of emotion on your face, every expression, every feeling play out in vivid detail; he brought your hand - so small in his own - to the throbbing between his legs, his eyes fluttering shut as you wrapped your fingers around him, holding him through the soft material of his sweatpants.

    "God, Steve…" You whispered, giving him an experimental squeeze, your body sweltering with heat as he moaned - it was quiet, just barely louder than an exhale, but you'd heard it all the same.

    You had done that to him, brought him to this, and you ached for more.

    "Take it off." Your tongue poked out to swipe at your lips; he swallowed at the movement, every nerve in his body alight, aflame at the feeling of your hand around him. "Please."

    He didn't need to be asked twice.

    In a single movement, Steve pulled off his pants, chucking them somewhere across the room; you gasped as you realized he wasn't wearing anything underneath, naked as the day he was born.

    You looked at him, he nodded, and your hand was on him again.

    God, Steve thought, his head pressed to your shoulder, breathing heavy as you began to stroke him, it's never been this good before. All you'd done was touch him, and he could already feel himself begin to unravel, his stomach coiling with his building release.

    You stared down between you in open-mouthed awe, feeling the weight of him in your hand; he actually keened when you'd brought your other hand to cup him, pushing his hips into your grip, chasing more of your touch - of you.

    "B-Baby…" He barely recognized his own voice from how weak he sounded, his hand shaking as he wrapped it over yours, stilling your movements. "Baby, please, I… I can't-"

    Your hands flew off of him, raised up to your chest, a pang of fear seizing your chest at the thought of having hurt him. Were you moving too fast, your grip too tight? "Steve, I-"

    "No! No, sweetheart, it's… It's not you, I swear." He pulled you close, buried his nose in your hair, his voice quiet with embarrassment as he continued, "If you keep doing that, this'll all be over way too fast."

    You giggled at him, your smile broad and beaming as he moved away to look at you, going stiff in more ways than one as you brought his hand to your chest; he could feel the thrumming of your pulse beneath the softness, keeping pace with his own.

    What, like you hadn't heard about his boobies monologue from Robin?

    You felt his fingers twitch against you, desperate to squeeze, but he held himself back, restrained himself.

    "I won't break, y'know."

    God, you were going to kill him, he swore, shaking his head, a nervous grin stretching across his lips - and it was then that he paused, his hand stilling over you as the shameful realization dawned upon him.

    He hadn't even kissed you yet.

    Where's your game, Harrington?

    He'd gone shy on you again, you noted, feeling how his breathing turned slow and deep. "Steve?" You brought your face closer to his, hands at his jaw, thumbs caressing his cheeks as you urged him to look at you. "Steve, do you-"

    "Can I kiss you?"

    Your silence stretched out for what, to him, felt like hours. Had he pushed you too far, assumed too much? Was kissing too personal for you? His first instinct was to backtrack, to make amends, and he hurriedly mumbled, "I-I mean, it's fine if you don't-"

    "Do it, Steve."

    Your words were clear, demanding in a way that made him shiver in anticipation. Slowly, carefully, he trailed his hands over the softness of your waist, pulling you flush against him, his length trapped between your thighs.

    "You want me to kiss you?" He needed to hear it from you, needed you to say it, to know you wanted this just as much as he did.

    "Please."

    Of all the times you'd imagined kissing Steve, of daydreaming about what he'd feel like, nothing could compare to the real thing; you melted against him with a sigh, arms settling around his neck as you pulled him impossibly closer, every pore on your body screaming for this moment to go on, for him to kiss you like this forever.

    And for Steve, kissing you was a miracle - he'd long since resigned himself to wanting you from afar, to watching you from the sidelines, content with the way things were. He didn't think he'd ever gather enough courage to confess his feelings to you, terrified of losing one of the closest friends he's ever had. But, now?

    Now that he's tasted you, he's insatiable.

    He was the one to deepen the kiss, to lean into you, press his body against you, throbbing between your thighs and hissing as his sensitive head caught on the fabric of your underwear. You pulled his hands back to your chest, his tongue tracing over your lip as you pulled off the lacy thing and tossed it aside.

    Your kiss had started saccharine, gentle, coy, but it had devolved into something carnal, primal, fueled on by years of pining and longing and want.

    "[Y/N], can I…? Can- touch you?" Steve panted, his words beginning to fail him, his hair already damp with sweat as it fell over his eyes. You pull one of his hands away from your chest, biting back a moan at the feeling of his calloused palm dragging over your nipple; you guided him between your legs, your breathing labored, eyes clenched shut.

    When he touched you, you screamed.

    Painstakingly, sobbingly slowly, he worked you open, his pride growing tenfold as he felt how wet you were, how slick his fingers were quickly becoming as they moved over you - and all because of him. He brushed his fingers lightly over your clit, his touch barely a touch at all, yet it drove you nearly to the brink of insanity.

    "S-Steve…!" you cried, screamed, no longer caring about the volume of your voice as you ground your hips against his hand, fingers clawing at his back. "Mmm…! Fuck, Steve…!"

    "Talk to me, sweetheart. How's it feelin'?" The closeness of his voice, of his lips pressed to your ear did absolutely nothing to veer you away from the edge of ecstasy you were barreling toward. You could feel him circle a finger around your dripping entrance, teasing you, your body writhing atop the blankets.

    "S… Steve, please…!" You shook in his arms, your face buried against his chest as you begged him for more - and when he finally pressed his finger into you, you both moaned.

    You were so hot, so tight, around his finger, sucking him in, your velvety walls pulsing against him - he could feel his cock weep as he imagined what it'd feel like to be inside of you.

    "Hmm…! A-Ah- Shit, Steve, I…!" Your head began to swim, your breathing rough as he worked you, one hand holding you by the hip while the other thrust into you, his thumb pressing down on your throbbing clit all the while.

    "Where you at, baby?" he panted, his focus breaking away from the sinful squelching coming from between your parted legs.

    "'M close, Steve… Fuck, I- I'm so close…!" You threw your head back, your body arching off the floor as Steve's kept his pace steady, looking very much satisfied with himself as you fell apart in his hands; with a final, trembling moan, you collapsed, panting for air as the sweet thrill of aftershocks shot through you; absentmindedly, you could feel him slide in behind you, holding you against his chest, hands moving idly over your sex-warmed skin.

    Still, even in the rose-colored haze of your mind, you knew you wanted more.

    "[Y/N]?" Steve watched as you turned around in his arms, pulling him into a sloppy, wet kiss. It didn't take much for him to turn to putty in your hands, and he offered no resistance as you nudged him onto his back, legs straddling his hips. "Fuck, baby, I…" he breathed, eyes wide as his gaze moved over you in reverence - bathed in the candlelight, flushed from the bliss he'd given you, he swore you never looked so beautiful.

    You moved your dripping core over his cock hesitantly - unlike Steve, you had no prior experience to draw from. Did it feel good when you pressed down on him? When you sped up? Slowed down? You stared at where your bodies connected, not realizing Steve's eyes had clenched shut, sweat beading down his brow as he tried to keep himself from losing it.

    "Sweetheart, please, I…" Steve moaned, his hands leaving you to drag through his hair. "You're killin' me-"

    "Yeah?" you panted, pushing more of your weight down onto him, your heart soaring at the litany of curses that fell from his lips - and even a few that weren't in English. "How's it feel, pretty boy?"

    At the name, you felt him jump against you, and you swore on your mother's life you'd never seen him flush so red.

    It was as though the very room had gone still, the snow outside ceasing to fall, your breath catching as you lifted yourself off of him; holding him in your hand, you lined him up with your entrance, your eyes shut as you tried to calm your nerves, but you paused at the feeling of hands running over your sides, gentle and soft against you.

    Steve looked up at you, cheeks bursting with color as he held you steady, an unspoken question clear in his eyes.

    Do you want it?

    You nodded, your lips breaking into a smile as you kissed him - and all at once, you pushed yourself down, crying out at the feeling of him stretching you, filling you.

    He was big, and you were loath to admit that the rumors you'd heard about him all throughout high school were true - he deserved to be called "King Steve".

    You fell against him, shaking at the sudden intrusion as his hands soothed over your back, your waist, your thighs, your face, guiding you down onto him, whispering praises into your ear.

    "You're doin' so well, baby. You're so good to me, taking me like that… Fuck-!"

    You were struggling to breathe, face pressed against the crook of his neck as you waited for the pain to melt away - and Steve waited with you, peppering your face in kisses, his hands smoothing over your hair.

    "Do you want to stop?" he asked, his voice softer than silk, his concern washing away the lingering traces of your discomfort. You shook your head, biting your lip as you pulled away from him, wiping at the moisture clinging to the corners of your eyes.

    Steve felt his stomach drop. "[Y/N]-"

    "I'm okay." you reassured him, your voice all but gone, eyes fluttering shut as you settled back against his hips - he'd buried himself completely into you, the feeling of you enveloping him almost too much. He waited for you, for your sign that it was alright to move - because once he started, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop.

    You accustomed yourself to the feeling of him inside of you, thick and hard and throbbing. "S-Steve…" you moaned, your hands steadying yourself against his chest. "You can… You can move-"

    And you fell over when he snapped up into you, breaking out into fits of bright, sparkling laughter.

    "[Y/N]!" Steve couldn't help but laugh, too, feeling your walls squeezing around him. "Baby, you alright?"

    You nodded, still smiling as you threw your arms over your heated face.

    "Keep going, Steve…" you sighed, peeking at him from between your fingers - and his heart swelled, leaning over to kiss you stupid as his hips pounded into you, one of his hands moving down to your clit, rubbing you in time with his thrusts.

    He wasn't going to last - he knew he wasn't - but he'd be damned if you didn't finish before him.

    Your mouth fell open with a wanton moan, hands fisting the blankets at your sides as he gripped your hips roughly enough to bruise, his pace already beginning to falter. He kissed you everywhere he could reach, covering you in his love, his breathing coming out in grunts as he felt himself nearing his end.

    "Baby, I- I'm so fucking close-"

    "Steve, I- Ahh…! I can't…! Steve, please, I'm…!"

    And you reached your peaks together, screaming as you throbbed around him, as he painted you with his release, your bodies sticky as you collapsed onto the blankets, chests heaving for air as you floated back down from the Heavens.

    He was the first to speak. "You still with me?" Steve asked, still winded as he rolled onto his side, his hand moving up to roll a lock of your hair between his fingers - you still smelled like citrus, like sunshine and light.

    But now you smelled like him, too.

    You turned your head to look at him, eyes lidded, your grin blissfully lopsided as you kissed him - gently, sweetly, relishing the feeling of his chapped lips, of the warmth of his breath over your face. "I'm still with you, Steve."

    "Yeah?"

    "Always."

    He pulled you into his arms, his face pressed to your neck; you nudged yourself against him, exhaustion settling over you both like the falling snow.

    Before you'd drifted away, you heard his voice, quiet and meek as he whispered, "I love you."

    Your hands moved over his chest, and you kissed him one final time before falling into oblivion, your sigh of, "I love you, too." barely slipping past your parted lips, Steve chasing after you.

[cariantha]

A Kiss on the Hand (Part 1️⃣)

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: General Warning: None Category: Hurt/Comfort; Angsty Fluff Word count: 1.2K Series Summary: After realizing just how much they mean to each other, Ethan and Sawyer express their love through a sweet hand gesture. A/N: Artwork by the incredible @/artbyainna on Instagram. This is a three-part series. Part one is a rewrite of Book 2 Chapter 11 and was inspired by In Case You Didn't Know by Brett Young.

Part One: Soulmates

With his arms encircled around her, Ethan held Sawyer as close as the plastic between them would allow. He felt the pressure of her fingers gripping his, and the press of her lips as she placed a prolonged kiss on the top of his gloved hand. The simple gesture conveying so many words still left unsaid.

With their eyes locked, he wondered if Sawyer noticed what must surely be red, watery eyes staring back at her from inside the plastic helmet. If she had, she didn’t say anything before her eyelids grew heavy and she fell asleep. 

He knew she needed the rest, but as Sawyer slept like the dead, Ethan worried she was halfway there. The wavy lines and flashing numbers on the patient monitor foretold a grim story. 

Updates from the lab had been few and far between, and Ethan knew the saying “no news is good news” did not apply in this situation. Instead, every hour that went by without an update felt like another nail in the coffin. 

Carefully disentangling himself from her limbs, he eased off the bed and tucked the blankets around Sawyer’s feverish body. He placed an oxygen mask over her face, then sat in the chair next to her bed. His thoughts drifted all over the place as he watched the mask fog and defog with each labored breath.

At one point, he wondered whether he was being selfish by choosing to spend these precious and possibly final moments with her. Moments that should be spent with her family, her closest friends. As he sat there pondering his place in her life and how she would introduce him to a stranger, he came to a realization. None of that mattered because Sawyer was his best friend.

She was someone he trusted with his secrets, someone who was always honest with him, someone he could be himself around. Not since Tobias had he been comfortable to laugh and joke and tease. Sawyer had a way of making his burdens feel lighter. Even if he could ignore the romantic feelings, she would always be more than just a mentee, colleague, or teammate.

They had an undeniable connection to one another. Being in the same room as Sawyer felt like home. She was the sweet to his salty. She challenged him, not just in medicine, but in life. In love. Against all odds, she continued to fight for him. For them. 

He hadn't believed in soulmates before, but then again he'd never felt like this before. Maybe she was his soulmate, he thought. Because if he knew anything to be true at that moment, it’s that if Sawyer lost this battle, a part of him would die too. And if there was a chance that it would give her the motivation to keep fighting, he was willing to overcome his fear and admit everything. 

Resolved to do just that, Ethan stood and took a seat on the edge of the bed. Taking her limp hand into his, he swallowed his nerves and began to speak. 

“Sawyer, I … I told you earlier that I regret keeping us apart … but there’s more.” 

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “There’s more that I’ve been keeping under lock and key.”

“I … I have wanted to say what was on my mind so many times … but I’ve been too scared. Scared that you don’t feel the same. Scared that you do. And I fear if I say it now that it will sound like goodbye … and I …” 

Mouthing the words “I can’t,” Ethan hung his head and choked back a sob.

Steeling himself, he began again. “Rookie, I need for you to know … just in case you don’t … I'm … I’m crazy about you. You. Drive. Me. Crazy,” he punctuated every word. 

“It’s true, you are a colossal pain in the ass … but I confess … I secretly enjoy it,” he tittered, recalling some of his favorite memories. “Very few people challenge me the way you do.” 

Ethan noticed how her eyes moved slowly behind her closed eyelids. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing right now. I can see those wheels turning in that head of yours. You’re already plotting ways to get under my skin,” he squeezed her hand with a smile.

After watching her chest rise and fall for a couple minutes, Ethan inched up the bed and placed her hand over his heart, holding it there with both of his.

Clearing his throat, “You … you’ve had my heart for quite some time now. I’ve tried to pinpoint when exactly you captured it, and I’m not sure. I knew you were someone special after that night in the NICU … and then something changed in Miami,” Ethan dragged his fingers up and down her arm. 

With an amused chuckle, he continued. “I have to confess. My first response to the hotel's mistake with the room reservation was not anger or frustration. Believe it or not, I actually thought to myself, 'That was lucky.'”

“Then when I saw you in that dress-,” he tucked a stray hair behind her ear, “I didn’t think it was possible for you to be any more beautiful. You literally took my breath away and rendered me speechless.” Ethan briefly closed his eyes, recalling the memory. 

Shaking his head in disbelief, “God, I was a fool that night. A fool for pushing you away, and an even bigger fool for thinking I could ever resist you. I don’t think you’ll ever understand how that first kiss did me in, Sawyer.”

Ethan delicately lowered her hand and checked the flashing monitor. Her blood pressure and heart rate had dropped to dangerously low levels.

His plastic suit crackled as he leaned over her body. Hovering over her face, he whispered a final plea.

“I need you to fight, baby,” he uncharacteristically begged. Sniffing back tears, “I need you. I won’t be able to handle it if you leave me.” 

“I’m sorry I wasted so much time,” he apologized again. “If you come back to me, Sawyer, I belong to you. You’ll have all of me.”

Ethan gently lifted the oxygen mask from her face and touched two fingers against her lips. A loving “kiss” right before he whispered, “I love you, Rookie.”

<><><><><><><><><><>

Twenty-four hours after the antidote had been administered, Ethan rushed to Sawyer’s room with the good news. He was almost knocked off his feet, though he was unsure if it was from Sawyer crashing into him, or from the immense wave of relief that washed over him.

Ethan held her close, running his hand up and down her back. With the need to feel her skin under his fingertips, his hand slipped between the ties of her hospital gown. His warm palm melted against her bare back. 

Sawyer wrapped her arms around Ethan’s neck, and standing on her tiptoes, she pulled him down just enough to rest her cheek against his. Her body shook with a quiet sob.  

With his lips at her ear, his heart raced, those three little words teetering on the tip of his tongue. 

Losing his nerve, he choked them back along with his tears, only letting a single teardrop escape. 

As they slowly pulled apart, he took her hand in his and brought it to his mouth. Just as she had the day before, he kissed the top of it. Slowly, three times. One kiss for each word trapped behind his lips. 

A/N2: Parts two and three get a little bumpy.

Part Two: Always Three Times

Part Three: I Know What You Mean

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @potionsprefect @jamespotterthefirst @annfg8 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @jerzwriter @quixoticdreamer16 @mysticalgalaxysstuff @inlocusmads @txemrn @trappedinfanfiction @mvalentine @takemyopenheart @openheartforeverinmyheart @doriopenheart @coffeeheartaddict2 @genevievemd @starrystarrytrouble @hopelessromantic1352 @kyra75 @lsvdw-blog @rookiemartin @headoverheelsforramsey

[zeepz-art]

Spoilers for Arcane season 2 Episodes 1-6 ahead, tread with caution:

Also keep in mind everything I rant about here are just my current opinions and concerns, this could change after the next three episodes' release.

Ok.... first of all, never has a show made me sob as hysterically as this one has. The end of almost every episode has had me in tears so intense that I'm sitting there hiccuping oh my god. Like when Vi and Vander hugged at the end of Episode 5, or when the 'Remember Me' flashback happened GOD

The art and animation is as STUNNING as usual holy shit. This show is so beautiful and the visuals are addicting. It's all such good inspiration for fanart and just future artworks in general, it's honestly an artist's paradise and I genuinely can't believe something like this exists.

Anyway, initial gushing and ranting aside, here are some of my... gripes? concerns? about Season 2 for now.

(Please keep in mind that these opinions are not set in stone since the season isn't fully released yet but I still want to rant about them and get it all out of my system.)

Overall the season has been really really good, I am really enjoying it. But I can't help but feel SO confused. Maybe it's the fact that it seems a lot more focused on League of Legends storylines and references this time (I have no knowledge of League lore), but so many of the different plots throughout the episodes have left me so confuzzled.

For example, in Episode 6, it feels like so much happened that was so out of pocket. When Vi runs into Caitlyn, even though Cait was the one who literally left Vi to rot in a hole to continue her quest to kill Jinx, she immediately agrees to stabbing Ambessa in the back and just seems to forget entirely about what she's been doing for the past 2 and a half episodes?? It just felt like her mentorship with Ambessa, her 'relationship' with Maddie, and her obsessive search for Jinx were kind of tossed aside in favor of her and Vi making up.

Don't get me wrong, I love to see them together again, but I'm so confused as to WHY they're back together already. Not to mention Cait's reaction to seeing Jinx again is so tame in comparison to how much she seemed to despise her an episode ago.

Another Episode 6 example: Jayce... What the fuck?

I know we'll probably get context and exposition in the next few episodes as to where he's been and why he's like this, but still, it feels so strange that he went from sacrificing everything to save Viktor's life in Episode 1 and 2 only to show up and kill him in Episode 6. WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU JAYCE PLEASE I NEED TO KNOW WHY YOU ARE MURDERING YOUR POOR WET CAT BOYFRIEND

My other concern with season 2 so far, is that the pacing/storylines and plot feel really fast? it kind of feels like so many plots were crammed into season 2 that they now only last a few episodes until they finish or are forgotten? Like Isha was only there for 4-5 episodes until she died, Vander/Warwick's existence was built up across 3 episodes only for him to die really soon after he was revealed? Vi's breakup era only lasted for a few minutes in a montage? Viktor's 'Jesus' era had maybe 10 minutes of screentime? the list goes on.

I enjoyed all of these plots and storylines a LOT but I wish we got just a bit more time to appreciate them instead of getting emotional whiplash every episode. And that comes from someone who LOVES emotional whiplash.

To be fair though, none of the 'deaths' I'm talking about are necessarily confirmed yet since they're just implied until the next 3 episodes, So I do hope that at least Vander/Warwick is still alive because we barely got to dive deeper into the emotions the sisters must have experienced after seeing him again.

Anyway, Season 2 is honestly still so good it's a solid 7.5/10 for me so far. It has its flaws but it feels unfair to focus on them too much considering the season hasn't even finished its release yet. So yeah I'm really enjoying myself over here and am frothing at the mouth for the next few episodes to come out. Until then I will be curled up in the corner drawing infinite amounts of Arcane fanart to sate my endless thirst for more of this show.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk and thank you for your patience.