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uvobreakmylegs · 2 days ago

Text

Imminent

part 2 of the werewolf Nobunaga fic! also in case it wasn't clear in the first part the time period is meant to resemble the mid 1800s

werewolf!Nobunaga x female!reader

Part 1

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, noncon, brief mention of teratophilia, reader is extremely passive

Word Count: 15.3k

“Are you certain that man was shot?”

The voice that came up from behind had you pause, slowly bringing down the ax that you had been using to chop up the larger pieces of firewood. Doctor Mayhew had just exited your cabin, and he approached you with an odd look on his face.

It took you a moment to answer his question, but you nodded soon after as you repeated what you had told him when you had met him in town.

“Nobunaga was bleeding from two different places. And the blood that came from his side wound is still all over his trousers,” you pointed out.

“I see.”

Mayhew stopped before you with a slight huff as he placed his hands on his hips.

“Well, while he certainly has a few injuries, they don't appear to be the life threatening ones that you told me they were,” said the doctor, “in fact, he's in better shape than most of the men I've seen this week.”

“…. Oh…..”

You weren't sure what else to say to that, especially since you were picking up the irritation that was now surrounding the doctor. If what he said was correct, perhaps there was some justification for that; you had pulled him away from Willsden to tend to Nobunaga, a man that you said had been on the brink of death. Yet the doctor had spent less than five minutes with him before coming out to declare to you that he was fine. Given the situation happening in the town that you had only learned of that day, Mayhew wasn't entirely wrong to be unhappy.

Nobunaga had been close to dying when you had found him, though. That was a certainty.

Mayhew huffed again.

“Well, since this is done, I need to head back to town,” he said, “I have patients that are in need of help.”

This was a waste of my time, he seemed to be saying.

“I-I see. Thank you for coming anyway,” you told him.

He just nodded at you before turning to begin the journey back to the village.“Did you need anything before you leave?” you called after him.

“No thank you,” came the curt reply.

…. He wasn't happy with you. That much was clear.

Mayhew left, trudging back through the snow while you were left feeling confused and a bit foolish. You hadn't meant to exaggerate, nor had you thought you were doing so. The state Nobunaga had been in when you first saw him was still fresh in your mind. With those injuries and all that blood that he lost, you were certain that he needed a doctor.

Putting the ax down against the stump, you headed for the cabin. You wanted to hear from Nobunaga what had happened.

When you entered the wooden structure, you could immediately see why Mayhew had left irritated:

Nobunaga didn't appear to be ill or injured in the slightest.

It felt odd. It had only been a little over a week since the blizzard ended and during that time, Nobunaga's entire state of being had changed drastically. He no longer looked the part of someone on the brink of death. The man you had found when you first laid eyes on him – the sickly pale man with multiple bloody wounds and a knife in his side – was gone, replaced by one with color in his cheeks, no apparent pains coming from those wounded areas and with no issues pulling himself out of bed when he needed to. He was eager to do so, actually, as he eventually made a point to get up and walk about the cabin every few hours while he stressed to you that it was better for him if he pushed himself in order to regain his strength.

It was no different now, as you saw him sitting near the fire, his legs stretched out while he leaned back on his arms, his eyes focused on the burning pile of wood that would soon need to be replenished.

Nobunaga turned his head in your direction when he heard the door open, and he smiled once he saw you standing there.

“Hey,” he greeted.

“Hey,” you began before asking “what…. What happened?”

Nobunaga shrugged.

“Nothing much. He looked me over and said I'll be fine as long as the wounds stay clean.”

“Oh.”

Nobunaga's eyebrows furrowed, and he repositioned himself so that he could lean forward as he asked “is something wrong?”

“Ah, well,” you began as you stepped into the cabin and shut the door behind you so no more of the cold would enter.

“The doctor said that you were in better shape than most of the people he had seen recently,” you finished.

One of Nobunaga's eyebrows lifted as he asked “isn't that a good thing?”

“Yes, of course it it,” you said, “but… How is that possible?”

Even though you saw him before you, lounging about in good health and good spirits, you still saw in him the way he had been previously: half frozen and covered in blood with distant look in his eye as he was surely sitting on death's door. You truly didn't understand how he had changed from that so quickly, nor how Mayhew seemed to not believe that he had been injured to that extent.

You continued, saying “you were almost dead when I found you. I don't understand how you've recovered that quickly.”

Nobunaga scratched the back of his head, his gaze aimed away from you. Perhaps he didn't even know, you thought to yourself.…. You shouldn't be putting stress like that on a man that's still recovering, you thought to yourself. Even if he is doing better than expected.

“I'm sorry,” you then said, seemingly much to his surprise.

“I suppose I'm just confused,” you added, “that entire day and the ones that followed were rather strange. But you don't need to worry about that.”

“No, it's…..”

Nobunaga's voice trailed off, as he didn't seem to know what to say to you.

“Maybe…. Maybe the care you gave me was a lot better than you realized,” he then said, “and that's what helped me get better so fast.”

“But I didn't do anything other than change bandages and keep the wounds clean,” you said.

“Maybe that was enough,” he answered as he shrugged.

“… Oh.”

You weren't sure what to say. Largely because what he was telling you didn't sound entirely right; surely it wasn't that easy to overcome the injuries brought on by bullet wounds. But by all accounts, Nobunaga appeared to be fine. So maybe he was right and what little you were able to do had been enough.

Or maybe Nobunaga was just incredibly lucky the wounds just happened to not become worse over time. That seemed a bit more likely in your mind over anything you might have done.

Oh well. As long as he was healthy, that was all that mattered, wasn't it?

“Did you finish chopping up the wood?” Nobunaga then asked, his gaze once more going to the fire.

Right. You knew you were forgetting something.

“No, I didn't. I thought I'd get some of that done while doctor Mayhew was looking you over, but he finished with you faster than I was expecting,” you explained. You then turned around, preparing to head back outside as you added “I shouldn't be out long.”

But before you left, Nobunaga said “I could do that if you wanted.”

You glanced back at him as you smiled and shook your head.

“Even if you are fine now, it's better not to tempt fate by making you do something arduous,” you explained, “just relax for now. I'll be finished soon.”

“Besides,” you added, “you aren't dressed for the cold at the moment.”

All Nobunaga had were those ratty trousers and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and he seemed to concede when you brought up that point. But even still, Nobunaga seemed disappointed as he rested his elbow on his knee, leaning his chin on his hand.

Worried that he was uncomfortable, you said “I can always run back to town to get you clothes after I'm finished.”

He raised his eyebrow at you again.

“You already went there once today. I'm not making you do that again,” he said, “you're tired too, aren't you?”

Nobunaga was right. You were tired. Even though a week had passed, you still felt the ache that had been brought about after you'd dragged him through the forest. Today hadn't been any good on your legs, walking a total of 16 miles going and coming from Willsden. All you wanted to do was sit down next to Nobunaga and let the heat from the fire soothe the aches in your limbs.

But then how would you keep the fire going when you had nothing else to feed it?

“I'll be alright,” you told him, “and then tomorrow, I'll head out early to the town and get you some suitable clothing.”

Nobunaga accepted that with a small nod of his head.

With a plan seemingly in place, you returned to the outside. But when you closed the door behind you and caught once last glimpse of Nobunaga, that image came again: of the dying man who needed help, a knife in his side.

The door shut firmly, and you stood still for a moment as you remembered that part.

The knife. The thing that fell out of his side – presumably a bullet – that was meant to take his life.

And then there was the way he'd been digging it out of himself.

He'd been desperate to get it out.

Part of you wanted to ask why, as even in a crazed state, you couldn't imagine what would compel someone to do such a thing. But then again, you'd never experienced being in that sort of mindset, so who knew the ways in which it had made sense in his head during that time. He likely didn't even remember doing it, and despite that part that wanted to ask, you kept yourself from doing so. Nobunaga either wouldn't remember or you would bring up a painful memory for him.

You didn't want to do that to him.

After all that he had been through, you wanted to make sure you protected his well being. Both physical and mental.

Due to the way you had hurried to get the doctor the day prior, you hadn't noticed it then. But on your subsequent trip to Willsden that next day, you felt that a grim atmosphere had settled over the town. The people who were outside looked sullen as you walked past, as though some great weight was upon them. You also noticed something else that you hadn't before: two of the homes on your way in to the town had their doorways boarded up. There were no signs of life within those buildings.

While wondering how you hadn't noticed something that obvious yesterday, you also wondered what exactly had happened.

Your answer came from the clerk sitting at the general store's register:

A monster had attacked.

Before the blizzard, he had said, a beast had descended on the town late into the night, breaking into the two homes you had seen boarded up and killing the inhabitants within them before others in the town could come to their rescue. A group that formed to kill the monster chased it into the woods, where three more perished before the blacksmith took it out with two shots.

Although the blacksmith had been successful in felling the monster, a total of seven people had died. Children had lost parents and spouses had lost their loved ones, and just about everyone within the town had been friends with a few of those who were lost. It was hard for most to feel good about the victory when the town had suffered in such a way. Now what most were doing was their utmost to ensure that such a tragedy would never happen again.

“I suppose we can't make fun of the blacksmith for his superstitions anymore,” the clerk said, their tone trying to be lighter as they said “doesn't feel right to mock it when it was his own special bullets that killed the thing.”

“And you're certain that it died?” you asked.

“Well, they didn't find the body,” they admitted, “but by all accounts, the monster took off running and looked to be stumbling around when it did so. The ones that were there claimed that it was in its death throes, so I'm choosing to believe them.”

“I see.”

The clerk then glanced over at you in the middle of wrapping up a parcel for you – filled with clothes meant for Nobunaga – and said “a lot of us thought you were dead.”

You blinked.

“Why?” you asked.

“That thing came from the same direction as your cabin,” they explained, “we had figured it had gotten you first before it came for the rest of us.”

“….. Oh.”

The air between the two of you became awkward, which the clerk immediately realized as they tried to backtrack, telling you that everyone was happy that you hadn't died and the only reason no one had checked on you was because of the blizzard that had hit immediately after the attack. You waved it off, telling them that you understood why no one had checked and that it had taken a week for you as well to feel like you could make the long journey through the snow. That seemed to fix the awkward atmosphere, and you left soon after, the large parcel containing Nobunaga's new clothes in your arms as you stepped outside.

There was only one last stop to be made before you headed back home – to the marshal's office to report the crime that Nobunaga had been the victim of. Once you had told your story, the marshal said that he would look into it, but he doubted that there was much chance that the criminals would be caught given how long it had been by now.

“They might already be dead,” he told you, “either from the weather or that monster. It'll save me some trouble if that's the case.”

“You're lucky to still be alive,” the marshal then added, “being so far away from us, you're an easy target.”

You responded to that statement by giving him a forced smile.

During the walk back to the cabin, your thoughts went in different directions: first of how Nobunaga was right and that there had been little point in reporting the crime, and then of how dangerous things had been in the area without you even knowing of it. Seven people had died, and if those you spoke to were correct, you could have been among them. If the monster had attacked really did come from the direction of your cabin, it could have been very close by without you realizing.

The thought sent a shudder through you, and you held the parcel tighter to yourself as you walked.

The fear that something could get you while you were on your own wasn't a new one – you'd thought about that a lot, especially during the long nights when you had difficulty getting to sleep. The statement that you were an easy target was absolutely correct; were it not for the fact that you had nowhere else to go, you would have left the cabin and moved to be closer to the others.

Although it wasn't entirely true that you had nowhere else to go.

If you really wanted to gain the advantage of more safety in numbers, all you needed to do was find one of the single men of the town and convince him into marriage.

But you didn't want that.

You liked the freedom you got in living at the cabin, even if it scared you sometimes. Although it wasn't a bad idea to purchase some sort of weapon. That wouldn't happen anytime soon, however. Glancing down at the parcel, you felt a bit grim as a fair amount of your jenny had gone to purchasing the clothes. But you got over it quickly. It was necessary. Nobunaga didn't deserve to spend anymore time in the manner that he was. After he had lost everything, you were happy to help.

You were happy he was there, as well. Because despite how you had told yourself that you didn't care about being left alone in the wilderness, it was nice to have someone to talk to. Especially someone as friendly as Nobunaga had proven to be.

And maybe having just one extra person around would be enough to assuage your fears of anything coming for you in the dead of night.

Nobunaga was pleased with the clothes you presented to him that afternoon. Finally, he was able to change out of his bloody clothing and into something nicer. And more importantly, warmer.

“Maybe now you'll let me help out around here,” he told you as he slipped his arms into a jacket.

You nodded.

“As long as you don't strain yourself, that would be nice,” you told him.

“I'll be fine.”

To that, you just smiled and nodded again.

He smiled back at you, and when you looked into his eyes, you saw a warmth within them.

Nobunaga seemed like he was happy.

You were just glad that he was still alive so he could experience such an emotion.

The night ended with Nobunaga making note of the fact that your portion of dinner was much smaller than the one you had given him, but you brushed off the concern as you said this was normal.

He seemed to accept it.

It was as if he'd never been injured.

Within a short period Nobunaga had taken over the more strenuous tasks of maintaining the cabin, most of it involving the chopping of firewood so the two of you could continue to keep warm. You had been worried about letting him do it at first given that one of his injuries had been on his shoulder, and you weren't certain that he should be putting such strain on that area, but he insisted that he would be fine. And that seemed to be the case as you never saw any ounce of pain flash across his face when he would bring the ax down upon the wooden logs.

Despite everything that had happened to him, Nobunaga was doing just fine.

But even with how well he appeared to be doing, you still felt compelled to worry over him. Even if that version of him you had first met was now gone, you couldn't remove the image of him out of your mind. So you made sure to ask after him, if he was feeling well and if he ever needed you to take over that particular task again.

He never did. Nobunaga would always reply that he was fine and that you didn't need to worry about him, and the way he would tell you always indicated that he was being truthful with you.

He also didn't seem to mind at all the ways you kept an eye on him. If anything, he appeared to be pleased whenever you did.

The days passed by comfortably with new routines setting in for the both of you, with Nobunaga taking care of the majority of the work that needed to be done outside while you focused your energies on the interior of the cabin.

Although it wasn't completely comfortable for you, as during the entire time since you had brought Nobunaga to your home, you had continued to sleep on the rug in front of the fireplace. As expected, it was starting to wear on you, but you didn't mention it to him. After letting him use it for so long, you had no intentions of kicking him out of it, and you told yourself that you could bear it.

Despite not mentioning anything to Nobunaga, he noticed.

One night you awoke to find that he had placed you in the bed while you had slept.

While the gesture was surely meant to be a sweet one, you were more alarmed when you saw that Nobunaga was sleeping beside you, as the bed was just barely able to fit the two of you in it.

It caused a mild panic at first as your heart beat rapidly and you looked to escape the situation. With the way he had placed you on the side next to the wall, the options you had were to crawl down to the foot of the bed and get out that way, or clamber over Nobunaga and hope that you didn't wake him as he slept.

You had decided to go with the former, even if Nobunaga did deserve the inconvenience of having his sleep interrupted for the way he'd moved you about like that. Sitting up with the intentions of slipping out of the bed sheets, you glanced over at the spot you usually occupied while steadying yourself with a hand on the mattress.

…. It had been a while since you had slept in your own bed, you thought to yourself. And while you weren't blaming Nobunaga for that, the surface you had made for yourself out of the rug and blankets was barely passable as a spot to sleep in. Your body was tired and sore and it was affecting you during the day.

Nobunaga must have seen that; perhaps that was part of why he refused to let you do the more physical chores, you mused.

You clutched at the blankets on top of you, now not wanting to pull them off so you could leave the bed despite the inappropriateness of the situation.

But he wouldn't have meant anything bad by it, would he? No, even in the short amount of time you had known him, you felt certain that he didn't have any ulterior motives. He had simply seen that you were doing poorly by sleeping on the floor and he moved you to a spot where you would be comfortable. It was purely practical. And while it was still a bit upsetting that he had picked you up and moved you in your sleep, as you thought on it more, you imagined that he didn't know how to start such a conversation with you, or how he might have convinced you that it was fine to share a bed with him. He wouldn't have, most likely, and you would have stayed where you were.

You didn't want to go back to that spot in front of the fireplace now, though you still felt conflicted about staying in the bed.

Then, a new thought – if it was just for one night, that would be fine, wouldn't it? Just once so you could recover a bit more strength, and then you would go back to how it had been before. It was purely practical, you repeated to yourself. The only thing he meant by it was so you could have a comfortable nights sleep for once. It was only good intentions from a man who wanted to repay you for all of your kindness. As long as nothing further happened, it would be okay.

Now having convinced yourself of that, you lay back down on the bed, though you did scoot away slightly from Nobunaga's sleeping form. Or as much as you were able to with the wall right next to you.

There would need to be a discussion about this in the morning, but for now, you chose to rest, and you fell back into slumber with Nobunaga at your side.

That following morning, there wasn't much of a discussion to be had. You expressed how alarming it had been to find yourself in bed next to him, and while Nobunaga acknowledged and apologized for doing that without asking you beforehand, he didn't seem especially sorry. Nor did he seem to really hear you when you expressed why it had bothered you.

It furthered your worry that he was dismissing your concerns. But he did promise that it wouldn't happen again, and since there had been nothing else about him that alarmed you, you chose to take his word.

At least he hadn't pointed out that you chose to stay with him that night.

“If you need to rest, make sure to let me know.”

Nobunaga glanced over at you and gave a slight not before he returned his focus to the forest around him while you followed behind, the basket meant for carrying wood on your back as the two of you scoured the surrounding areas for fuel for the fireplace. As was often the case during the winter, the main effort you took towards surviving was to make sure you kept warm, thus you were often out in the forest for that reason.

It was the first time Nobunaga had joined you.

He'd been insistent, saying that he could help out beyond what you were allowing him to do and that he was worried about you going out on your own. Nothing you said convinced him to let you leave by yourself, and so the two of you left together.

No matter how hard you tried, you still checked over him frequently, ready to give him the option of going back when or if he found that he was straining himself too much. Even if he and the doctor said that he was fine, you couldn't imagine that he really was okay after such a short period of time.

But you got the sense that Nobunaga wasn't as happy now with the way you kept an eye on him. Because of that, you decided to stay quiet for now and hope he would be honest with you if he truly wasn't doing well.

The time spent outside passed in silence as the two of you went through with the tiring but necessary task. Nobunaga showed no signs of being put out, and seemed to be in better shape than you were as after a few hours of slogging through the ankle deep snow, you were starting to reach your limit as you were out of breath and wanted nothing more than to return to the cabin so you could sit down. Your energy was distinctly lower than it normally would be, and you tried to ignore the empty feeling in your stomach.

If he noticed, Nobunaga made no mention of it.

Eventually the two of you had collected enough wood, and it was agreed that the two of you would return, to which you quietly felt relieved. Again, the two of you walked through the woods, and just as before you remained quiet, still worried that perhaps your companion was becoming irritated with you. You walked behind him, allowing him to take the lead as you traveled along the path back to home.

With your eyes on his back, you noticed how often his head turned upwards as he looked up to the sky.

When your eyes followed to where his gaze had gone, you found that the only thing there was to note aside from the many trees was the half full moon in the sky that was present despite it being daytime. Either he was looking at that or something in the trees that you weren't catching any sight of, you mused. Though you chose not to linger on it; it didn't seem to matter much.

It didn't take much longer to return to the cabin, at which you let out a small sigh of relief as you were eager to feel warm again once you were inside.

Nobunaga glanced behind him that time.

“Everything alright?” he asked.

“Of course. Why?” you responded.

“Seems like you're happier than normal to be back.”

“I suppose there have been a lot of anxieties about the outside building in me,” you admitted, “but there isn't much to be done when we need to head out to survive, right?”

He nodded slowly before turning back towards the cabin as he said “I haven't helped much with those anxieties, probably.”

“Actually, I feel a lot better with you around.”

“You do?”

You nodded at him when he glanced towards you again, and the way you smiled at him seemed to embarrass him as he just as quickly looked away and walked to the cabin with a bit more urgency. Following him at a slower pace, you felt a bit more at ease now.

But that feeling lasted only a moment as you took the time to look about the area that surrounded your home and found your gaze landing on the two pines not far from you. The same two pines where you found Nobunaga once he had woken up.

The same two pines that had the footprints between them on that morning.

You stopped in your tracks as you stared at the area before you, your breathing starting to come in shallow as you remembered what you had been told had happened at the town. You had tried not to think about it as the topic was morbid and scary, but now…. Now you felt rather dense as you hadn't put the pieces together until this very moment, and fear was building within you once more.

Nobunaga's eyebrows furrowed once he saw that you hadn't followed, and he turned around in order to place a hand on your shoulder when he had reached you.

“What is it?” he asked you.

“…. I realized something awful,” you said, your eyes still fixed on the ground between the trees.

“What?”

“When I went into town last, I learned that a monster had attacked,” you explained. Your hands clutched at your skirt as you added “and I just remembered something strange I saw the morning I found you.”

Nobunaga's eyebrows furrowed as he asked “what did you find?”

“Animal tracks. Large ones that were right over there. I thought it was a bear at first, but now I'm not so sure. I think it may have been that monster. One of them even said that it seemed to have come from this direction.”

You let out a shaky breath as you added “seven people were killed before they felled the beast, and I just…… I'm just terrified at the thought of what would have happened if it had broken in. If it was able to kill seven able bodied men and women, then it would have killed me easily. No one would have even known until the snow thawed and they realized I was nowhere to be seen.”

Nobunaga kept his hand on your shoulder while he remained quiet. When you glanced up at him, you found that his mouth was pressed into a hard line, and it seemed as though he was waiting for you to say something else.

But you weren't sure of what else you might say. Everything that could have spilled from your mouth in that moment seemed to have come to a stop, and you were left staring down at that space where you had seen those tracks nearly two weeks before, and all you were capable of doing in that moment was imagining what might have happened to you. If the men from the village would have boarded up the door to your home after finding your body.

You hadn't thought too much on your safety since inheriting the cabin, and now you were wondering if you were only still alive through sheer luck.

Finding your voice again, you then asked “just how close to death do you think I was that night? If that creature really was outside my cabin?”

His hand tensed slightly at the question, but this time, Nobunaga answered.

“Probably really close,” he admitted.

You glanced over to him and found that he was no longer looking at you.

“It was probably up to that creature's whim on whether he would kill you or not,” he said, “he just chose not to.”

“…. He?” you asked.

Nobunaga shrugged.

“He, it, call it what you want. Doesn't matter,” he said, “all that does matter is that you're alive, right?”

“I suppose.”

He arched an eyebrow as he asked “what's wrong?”

“Something else could always come by, couldn't it? And I don't have any means of defending myself. I certainly can't afford any sort of decent weapon,” you said.

I don't even know how long the food I have will last

You kept that thought to yourself, even though you knew you couldn't do that forever.

“If that beast isn't dead, or those men who attacked you come back and find this place….”

Your voice trailed off as you didn't want to finish that sentence.

“You don't need to worry about that,” Nobunaga told you.

“Why?”

“Because I'm here now.”

Nobunaga's hand moved from your shoulder so he could stroke your cheek gently, though you couldn't help but flinch at the unexpected contact.

“You saved me from dying. Somehow, despite how lost I was, you managed to find me, and not only did you take me all the way back here, but you nursed me back to health.”

He was smiling as he told you “so I've decided that I'll repay everything you've done and more. Now that I'm here, you don't need to worry about your safety. Because I'll protect you.”

The words lingered in the air a moment as you mulled them over in your head. A response formed, though your mouth remained closed as you knew immediately it wouldn't be taken well if you were to voice it. To tell him that you felt he was the one who needed to be protected would cause a tension that would be hard to deal with in the small space of the cabin, especially when his eyes burned so brightly with a passion you hadn't seen before.

You gave him a small smile as you took a more diplomatic approach, telling him “of course you will, Nobunaga.”

It sounded forced. It was forced.

And Nobunaga picked up on it as he frowned slightly.

Still desperate to keep the peace, you grasped at his hand on your cheek, pulling it off gently and grasping it lightly as you said “thank you for making me feel better.”

That seemed to placate him, as he nodded. Though you could tell from his expression that his feelings over your response weren't completely gone.

Dread filled you as you made your way towards the pantry that held your food storage. You didn't want to open it as you knew what you would see: empty shelves and barely anything to eat. Whatever you had in there might last you a few days at the most, and after that point, you would need to find some way to scavenge for food until spring came.

…. That was several months away, you noted. With both little food and little jenny left, how in the world were you and Nobunaga going to survive until then?

Your thoughts went everywhere, thinking of the items you owned that you could trade and the few jobs that were available within the town. Walking there in the current conditions would be an ordeal, especially if you needed to do so multiple times a week, but you had no choice. You couldn't allow either of you to starve.

Nobunaga getting some sort of work was also something that needed to happen, though you still found yourself hesitant to bring it up. You had been the one to rescue him, after all. Why couldn't you take care of him sufficiently? Thus, every time you thought to ask him, you felt guilty.

But he was fine. He had said so and had repeatedly prove so. So it was reasonable to expect him to pull his weight, especially when he was the reason why your food storage had depleted so rapidly.

It wasn't like he had meant for that to happen

With a sigh, you willed the thought away. You'd bring up the idea of him working later, but for now, you needed to make up something that would pass as a meal. So while a lump had settled in your throat, you opened the pantry door as you readied yourself for the dreadful sight of barren shelves.

Only that wasn't what you found at all.

Instead of empty shelves you expected, the pantry was overflowing with food. A variety of meats, vegetables and fruits were at your disposal, and all you could do was stare on in shock. None of that had been there the previous night.

It couldn't be real, you then decided.

So you closed the door, and then opened it again after a few moments, expecting the reality of your situation to return once you saw the lack of food within.

Except you still found it to be completely full.

You looked on in confusion as you wondered where this had come from.

“You seem pretty surprised.”

You turned towards the doorway and found Nobunaga entering, a handful of firewood in his arms. Shutting the door with his foot, he walked across the room to the fireplace and dumped the chopped wood within the box that sat next to it, wiping his hands after. You said nothing, at which point he looked back to you, and then he noticed the pantry.

Nobunaga smiled.

“We won't be going hungry for a while now,” he said.

You blinked.

“You did this?” you asked.

He gave you an odd look as he asked “who else would have?”

“But…. But where did you get all of this? How could you afford it?” you pressed.

Nobunaga opened his mouth, as though he was going to answer. But then he stopped and, seemingly thinking better of it, shook his head.

��For you, it might be better if you remain ignorant of that,” he said, “just trust me when I say that everything will be alright.”

…. You didn't like that response, and you were able to come to only one conclusion:

Everything that was in the pantry, he had stolen.

Your head swiveled back to the pantry as you looked over the contents again, and with all of the good quality food that was present, your brain raced as you tried to add up the amounts in your head.

This wasn't some little crime. If you were found with all of this, the two of you would face a severe punishment.

But that wasn't the worst of it, you told yourself. The worst part was that Nobunaga had very likely cleaned out the food storage of someone else. Someone who definitely needed it just to survive.

“Nobunaga,” you began, your eyes darting all about the pantry as you asked “what have you done?”

“I've provided for you.”

You turned your head back to him as he walked towards you while he continued to speak.

“You should have told me earlier that I was causing you issues,” he said, “how am I supposed to know that there's a problem if you won't tell me?”

“I-You were injured and…. I needed to take care of you,” you said.

“So you didn't want to bring it up because of that?”

Though you were uncertain of yourself, you still nodded.

Stopping right in front of you, Nobunaga let out a sigh.

“That's a sweet sentiment, but I'd like it if you stopped viewing me that way. Look at what happened because you weren't saying anything? You were starving yourself just to keep me healthy.”

Placing a hand on your shoulder, he continued.

“I'm not fragile,” he told you, “I can help you. And I want to help you, to keep you safe and to repay you for everything you've done. Whatever it is that you need, I can get it for you. So don't keep treating me like I'm some sickly patient, alright?”

After a moment, you slowly nodded. Nobunaga was either genuinely unaware of your hesitance or willfully ignoring it, because he smiled again while his hand traveled up to caress your cheek.

“I took care of the firewood, so you don't need to worry about that,” he then said. Then, after looking at the pantry, he grinned at you as he added “I'll make breakfast for us, too. With how long I've spent lounging around in that bed, I'm out of practice.”

Again, you slowly nodded and allowed him to push you out of the way as he selected what he wanted out of the pantry.

“What about….”

You trailed off when Nobunaga looked to you, and you didn't know why you lost your voice so easily.

You tried again when you asked “what about the people who need this?”

You pointed to the food as you did so.

Nobunaga gave you an odd look.

“We need this,” he said.

That was all he said before he continued with his task.

The morning was spent with you feeling uncertain and guilty over the meal you ate, all the while Nobunaga had further shrank the boundaries between the two of you as he sat directly beside you.

He seemed proud of himself.

The rate at which things changed left you speechless. Where he had once been the helpless man that you had saved, Nobunaga had now taken charge over your own home. He kept up in taking care of the more physically strenuous tasks, but you were now barely allowed outside anymore as he told you to let him take care of everything.

It didn't sit well with you, but you said nothing as you told yourself that the situation was only temporary. Although it had never been discussed, you had never intended on this being a permanent situation, and surely Nobunaga knew that. It would only last until spring at the very latest, and then he would be gone once the climate outside wasn't so harsh. So you allowed it. It would only be a few more months and then it would be over.

Though there were many times late during the nights that you wondered why you allowed it, and you wondered if this had been born from your desperation to have someone else around the cabin with you.

It brought up questions about yourself which you found you didn't want to answer.

It also felt like it had been an eternity since you had brought him here, and yet, based on the way the moon was slowly filling up with each passing day, it had only been a few weeks at most.

Nobunaga noticed that, as well. Often, when you would peek outside to watch him work, you saw him gazing up at the moon during the day, and the look on his face was difficult to tell what exactly he was feeling.

Was it fear? Or anticipation?

Then, the day before the full moon, something changed.

Nobunaga was hovering over you more than usual.

Like an overly attached pet, he followed after you no matter what you did and seemed annoyed whenever you would back away in an attempt to give yourself some space. That wouldn't last long as you would soon find him hovering around you again, staring intently at you as he did so.

As a result, that day felt especially long. You tried several times to ask him why he was acting the way he was, what was wrong, what could you do to help him?

Nobunaga didn't answer you.

The longer he behaved the way he did, the more unsafe you felt around him. All you could do was wonder why he was doing this.

No words were shared over dinner; neither of you wanted to talk to the other, it seemed. Though you only knew your own reasons as to why you didn't want to speak. Whatever his reasons were and how they tied in to the way he'd been behaving, that was all being kept to himself.

You finished your meal fast, and after you had cleaned up, you found yourself next to the fire with a book in hand as you tried to ignore him. But that didn't stop him from pestering you.

“Why are you sitting over there?” he asked.

“I'd like some time to myself,” you answered, briefly glancing at him before returning to the pages in front of you.

Evidently that wasn't a good reason for you to be away from him, as he then said “come sit with me.”

“…. I'd really like some time to myself,” you reiterated.

He scoffed.

“Hard to get that in such close quarters,” he told you dryly.

“I'm sure we can manage,” you muttered.

“Hm.”

It didn't sound as though he had truly conceded, yet moments passed by and nothing further happened. He wasn't insisting that you go over to him, nor was he walking up to you and getting in your space again. Not that it made you feel any better after his behavior during the day.

That was the only bit of reprieve you were granted from him, as when you were preparing your area in front of the fireplace to sleep for the night, Nobunaga came up and grabbed you in order to take you over to the bed, placing you beneath the sheets before he joined you shortly.

You didn't say a word. And you couldn't understand why you didn't.

Just what was it that was keeping your throat clogged up and your limbs stiff and immobile as you were made to do something that you didn't want?

… Fear, that's what it was.

Nobunaga was scaring you.

As you thought over the events of the last few days – no, beyond that. Nobunaga had been scaring you for some time now. You simply hadn't wanted to acknowledge it because you didn't know how to handle the situation. Now you were stuck in bed with a man who made you more frightened than you thought was possible, and you had no way to escape him.

So you turned over, facing the wall as you clutched the blanket close to yourself. Nobunaga said nothing to you, and as you assumed that he was focusing on sleeping, you told yourself to do the same.

At the very least, this would be over faster the quicker you fell asleep.

If only it was that easy.

How long you spent staring at the wall of your cabin, you had no idea. It felt like hours, but you were certain that it couldn't have been that long. Your sense of time was warping due to your distress. And again you wondered: why was he doing this?

The entire time, you had assumed he was already asleep, but then the sound of him turning over in the bed caught your attention, and suddenly you felt his gaze on the back of your head. You didn't need to look at him to be able to tell how intently he was staring at you. And the longer that went on, the more discomfort you felt as you laid in bed next to him.

Pulling the cover closer to yourself, you shut your eyes as you tried your hardest to get to sleep. It was fine; all he was doing was staring at you. While it wasn't ideal, you could ignore that.

Just go to sleep, you told yourself.

Things stayed like that for a few moments: you slowly curling in on yourself as you willed yourself to ignore the way Nobunaga stared at you, all the while he didn't say a word. He needed to know, didn't he? He needed to realize how uncomfortable he was making you. So why was he continuing to do it? Why didn't he care about how he was affecting you? Why had he been behaving so strangely today?

You could ask, but you doubted he would answer. If he hadn't the times before then why would he do so now?

So again you willed yourself to ignore his behavior.

It seemed to be working. Despite the weight of his gaze that was still on top of you, sleep was beginning to take hold. The exhaustion you felt at this time of night finally allowed you to put those worries aside, and the sound of the wind blowing the snow about outside gave you something else to focus on as you began to drift away.

Tomorrow, you sleepily thought. You would confront him tomorrow. Definitely.

Feeling a bit more at ease now, you relaxed a bit more, fully intending on getting a good night's rest.

You didn't hear the way he shifted in the bed.

But you felt when his hand reached out for your shoulder beneath the covers.

Despite flinching a little on feeling his touch, you did nothing to stop him or even opened your eyes, instead keeping them squeezed shut. You shouldn't be reacting in that way, you told yourself. Slapping his hand away is what you should have done – what you should be doing. Pushing him away and demand to know the reason for his behavior, and if it wasn't good enough, you would tell him that he'd be leaving first thing in the morning. At the very least you needed to kick him out of your bed for the night.

All of those things you could and should have done, yet you were frozen, keeping your eyes closed as you willed yourself to ignore it. Nobunaga's hand remained on your shoulder, squeezing lightly as if to comfort you before he moved, grazing the area between your shoulder and neck with his knuckles.

… Perhaps it was an apology, you told yourself. He recognized now how out of line he had been today, and this was his way of trying to make up for that fact. Nobunaga didn't seem to be the type to apologize easily, so you told yourself that the explanation made sense.

You still weren't happy with him, but if he really did see how tense and upset you were, it was nice that he was making some sort of effort, even if you really wished he would just speak to you.

Tell him it's alright and the two of you can talk about it in the morning

The thought entered your head and, despite the anger you were still feeling towards the man, you decided that you would rather have peace and were about to voice just that.

Only Nobunaga chose that moment to move in closer behind you.

And his hand traveled from your shoulder down to your pelvis.

Your eyes shot open, now fully awake, and you clenched at the covers tightly as you felt that hand gently massage that part of you, moving over that intimate area of yours before settling on your hip, continually caressing you with soft touches through the material of your nightgown. His lips were now on you as well, as Nobunaga placed soft kisses to the exposed skin of your neck.

You knew where this was going and you desperately didn't want that to happen.

Say something, you told yourself. Tell him to stop.

Instead of doing that, your voice caught in your throat and you could only clutch the covers tighter to yourself.

Nobunaga noticed, and the relief you felt when he pulled his hand away from you was quickly dashed when he pried the covers away, leaving your form exposed to the air of the cabin with only your nightgown as protection. In response you whimpered, now clutching at the sheets beneath you as you once again curled in on yourself.

Why? Why were you acting so weak?

Do something

NOW

Despite the voice that screamed at you in your head, you remained frozen as Nobunaga did as he pleased, now appearing directly behind you, his breath hot on your ear as he reached for you again.

That time his hand went to your breasts, and any sense of shame nowhere to be found as he blatantly groped you.

The action caused you to shudder, and that was enough to make you fight back as your hands went to grab his wrist, gripping him tightly with the intent of pulling him off of you.

The noise he made when you tried that was unexpected:

He growled at you.

It was so deep that reverberated in your ear, and you froze again as you wondered how in the world a human was able to make such a sound.

Now stunned into submission, you did nothing when Nobunaga readjusted you, forcing you to stretch back out on your front so his hand could wander about your body freely, groping and squeezing where he liked with his free hand slipped beneath you so he could continue to fondle your chest. That time he forced the neckline of your gown to widen so his hand could slip through, and you felt the rough skin of his hands on your soft flesh.

You could only whimper in protest.

He either didn't notice or didn't care as he nuzzled into your neck, leaving chaste kisses in his wake while his hands continued to assault you, only one doing so with your nightgown still in its way.

How long would it remain that way? When would he tire of just touching you and move on to something else? Based on what you could feel poking into the back of your leg, it was likely going to be sometime soon.

You remained trapped between him and the wall with precious little space between you. With no fight left in you and no way of fighting him off, you pressed your eyes shut once more, hoping that this would all be over quickly somehow.

There was a sense of desperation when Nobunaga finally reached down for the hem of your gown and pulled it up, forcing it over your legs and hips until he had it just above your stomach. Now your entire lower half was exposed completely, and you once again felt the weight of his gaze, this time on that spot between your legs that you still had clenched shut.

…. It was really going to happen this way?

Your breath hitched when you felt him grab at your knee and pried your legs apart without much effort. His other hand had left your chest and you heard the sound of his trousers being shoved down.

You knew what was happening, and you continued to stare at the wall so you wouldn't need to have that image of him forever burned into your mind.

I don't want this I don't want this I don't want this

With that thought screaming through your head, you found your voice, what little there was of it.

“Please don't,” you whimpered.

What came out was so soft that you wouldn't have thought he had heard it. Or if he had, you felt as though he may have pretended that he didn't.

Yet he stopped.

You felt that his eyes were focused on your face, watching you, waiting for you to speak again.

Again, you managed to find your voice, and it was stronger this time when you forced the words out.

“Please. Not like this.”

You sounded pathetic in the way you begged. Whatever strength that you tried to convey to those around you was nowhere to be found now. All there was in this moment was a weak woman who couldn't even look the man assaulting her in the eyes.

No matter how weak and pathetic you appeared, it wouldn't be enough to stop him, would it? You could still feel his hard cock against your backside. He wouldn't stop what he was doing and take care of that himself, would he? Perhaps he would even blame you for this current situation; perhaps he would justify himself by saying that you brought this on when you made no complaint on sharing a bed with him.

You knew there would be many others who would agree with his sentiment.

Tears threatened to fall as you continued to clutch at the bed sheets, trying your best to prepare yourself for this situation that you couldn't escape. Nobunaga's hand was still on your leg, still being held slightly aloft and leaving the soft folds of your pussy exposed to the air of the cabin. It was still going to happen. All he needed to do was shift himself slightly and his length would slip into you. Not without some resistance, but no matter how much your tight walls would fight to keep him out, he would ultimately have his way through sheer force alone.

That was what you had thought.

Yet he now was still. While his hand remained on your leg, he made no move to violate you further.

…. Had your words reached him?

You found that you couldn't help yourself, and you turned your head slightly to look back at him.

Nobunaga noticed instantly, and your eyes met.

He looked uncertain of himself. That uncertainty grew when he saw your fearful expression.

Upon seeing that, you tried again.

“Please, Nobunaga,” you began, “you're better than this.”

Conflict only appeared to grow within him as his eyebrows furrowed and he looked down at you with a guilty expression.

You stayed where you were, not attempting to pull him off you again. Instead you continued to look at him, willing him with every fiber of your being to force him to stop, to make the guilt too much for him to handle. After you had saved his life, that should be enough to make him stop, shouldn't it?

All you could do was hope that it would be.

Moments passed in silence with neither of you saying anything.

Then Nobunaga moved.

He reached for your head and pushed it down onto the mattress, keeping his hand there so you were kept pressed down and could no longer turn to look at him. It hurt slightly, and you let out a small groan of pain only to be shushed by Nobunaga.

Then he let go of your leg and pinned it to the mattress as well.

Now you were confused. The action of holding your head down made no sense if he didn't intend on-

You felt his cock rub against the back of your thighs. Your thighs, that he was now holding down. And after a few moments, he pushed his cock between them.

… Why?

Again the question ran through your mind as you asked why he was doing this to you.

Had he always viewed you in such a way?

You were beyond words now, and you kept your grip on the sheets as Nobunaga continued to fuck your thighs. The hand he had on your head had fisted into your hair, and every now and then he would pull hard enough to make you whimper. Every time that happened, he would shush you. When he kept pulling too hard and you continued to make those small noises of pain, he chose to clamp his free hand over your mouth to keep you quiet.

All the while he bore his weight down on you as he kept your legs pinned together with his own, and he continued to fuck into the simulated penetration of your thighs.

His hot breath on your neck became familiar as he leaned himself closer, his ragged breathing horribly loud in your ear as he got off to the awful situation. His hot length continued to breach the skin of your thighs as he kept you quiet and pliant for himself.

Closing your eyes was a poor idea, as you found that cutting off your sight only had you focusing more on the feeling of his dick against you, giving you insights to details you never wanted to know about. Of the veins, his length and the thickness-

No. You didn't want to think about those things.

So you kept your eyes open, keeping your gaze on the wooden wall of your cabin, doing your utmost to keep your focus on the wood grain that ran along the surface and keeping yourself from thinking of the man on top of you and how half of your face was repeatedly shoved into the mattress with every rough thrust of his hips.

The only saving grace of the situation was that he wasn't actually penetrating you.

Not long after, Nobunaga's groans became more guttural and his grip on you became harder. The pace of his thrusting became more erratic until he eventually pulled out of you.

And then you felt the warmth of his seed as he came on your thighs, coating your skin as he let out a relieved groan directly into your ear.

Once he was done, he fell on top of you, his grip finally loosening.

You continued to stay still.

Nobunaga did nothing further to you, and somehow, in the midst of the way you stared at the wall in shock while you tried to make sense of what had happened, you fell asleep. When you awoke the next morning, you were only allowed to stay in ignorant bliss for a few moments as you became aware again of his sticky release that was still splattered on your thighs, and all of the memories came rushing back within an instant.

That had been real?

The proof of that came when you cleaned yourself off with a cloth. At first your motions were slow, but as you thought longer on what had happened, you became more desperate to make yourself clean again. To get it off of you. It felt disgusting and you hated it.

If Nobunaga could tell that you were silently stewing in your feelings of betrayal and disgust, he made no effort to address it.

That day you couldn't bring yourself to look at him. Even when he hovered just as much as he had the previous day, you refused to acknowledge him. Instead of being upset with you, Nobunaga didn't seem to care. If anything, his behavior from the previous day had only escalated, as he made a point to have some form of physical contact with you, be it as simple as his hand on your arm or as extreme as wrapping his arms around you while he held you close, pressing kisses against your neck and humming to himself.

You didn't respond and kept your gaze averted.

How could he do that to you?

How could he continue to do this to you?

You couldn't bring yourself to ask, and your mind was stuck in an endless circle of questioning just what had happened while your body numbly went along with what Nobunaga wanted.

Not long into the day you found yourself sitting on his lap, as he had settled the both of you on the rug in front of the fire. His chest was pressed against yours while his face had been buried in the crook of your neck, and he breathed loudly while he held you tightly. Occasionally he spoke in soft murmurs against your skin, and the hand he had resting against your back would trail up and down against your spine with soft motions, as if to counteract the rough way he had treated you before.

Whatever it was that he said, you didn't hear it. Nor did you bother to struggle when he first pulled you into his embrace. Again, you allowed it to happen. You now found yourself staring up at the walls, taking in the knots in the wood and counting them over and over in your head as your mind no longer wanted to acknowledge what was happening.

This would stop eventually, wouldn't it? It needed to.

Nobunaga would let you go, he would leave, and then you would be free of him.

How you had come to the conclusion that was the way things would play out, you had no idea. But you chose to believe that anyway.

It was nicer to hope that this would come to an end.

And after a long while, it did.

Some time later, Nobunaga finally pulled away from you before he gently pushed you off of his lap, making you settle on the floor while he knelt in front of you. Two large hands then cupped your cheeks, and your gaze was then directed towards him.

Nobunaga smiled at you and leaned in to place a kiss on your forehead. A kiss that you didn't react to. He seemed unbothered by that fact as he followed it up by giving you a reassuring pat on the cheek.

“I'll be back soon.”

With that, he took his hands off of you as he stood to his full height and turned towards the door. With a few short steps he had reached the entrance. And without a single more word, Nobunaga opened the door, revealing the outside. It was getting close to dark, and yet Nobunaga was walking out into the cold without an extra layer of protective clothing or even a lantern to guide his way in what would be the quickly coming night.

Through the snow that layered the ground, through the pair of pines, Nobunaga walked forward.

Going, going.

Into the forest, you watched as his form grew smaller and became harder to see from the trees that surrounded him on all sides. Until…..

…. Gone.

He was gone.

And left in his wake was the wide open door of your cabin, and you, still sitting in the spot where he had placed you.

You didn't stay that way for long. The cold had quickly seeped into your cabin, and upon the realization that he was gone, truly gone, you didn't feel as though you could move. Now that the strength had returned to you, you pulled yourself to your feet and rushed over to the door, slamming it shut and locking it.

Now Nobunaga couldn't get back in.

You sank down to the floor as sobs began to wrack your body, all of the emotion that you had been bottling up within yourself coming out in a burst.

You couldn't sleep that night.

Hours after Nobunaga had left and you had broken down crying, you had briefly found yourself tossing and turning in the bed as you tried to rest. The memories of what had happened kept you from sleeping, and even when you went through with the effort of flipping the mattress onto the other side in the hopes that might make a difference, your sleeplessness continued.

It wouldn't leave your mind, and no matter how many times you made yourself survey the room to confirm that you were alone, every time you closed your eyes, you were back where you were last night.

Pinned down and vulnerable.

You gave up on the bed, and sleep as you sat down by the fire, stoking the dying flames by adding more wood. As you sat there, huddled by the fireplace, you found that you wanted to cry again.

All that you had done for him, and that was the way Nobunaga chose to repay you? By violating you in the worst way possible? How? How could he know all that you had done for him and still do such a thing? The only saving grace of the situation was that he hadn't gone through with it completely once you had begged him not to. But he had still made the choice to use you. And it was clear that he saw nothing wrong with what he had done.

It was sickening.

The tears that were forming were quickly and harshly wiped away with the sleeve of your nightgown. No, no more of that, you told yourself. You had wasted enough of your tears on that man. Tears and effort and your own goodwill. No more of that.

He wasn't in any way deserving of it.

…. Though maybe you weren't entirely blameless.

You glanced about at the closed pantry door that was still full of the food you knew he had stolen. The food that you had found yourself trying to justify, as you had truly had needed it. Would the people of Willsden be understanding? Someone there had surely been the victim in that crime, so you feared that they wouldn't. After how much time had passed since you first learned of the theft, you feared that you would be considered to be just as responsible.

Perhaps you shouldn't have feared the jail cell so much; if you had done the right thing at the beginning, maybe you wouldn't be going through this.

The right thing.

You had thought that had been helping Nobunaga when you found him, but now….

You stayed in that spot by the fire, your arms wrapped around your legs while your chin rested on top of your knees as you watched the flames dancing atop the logs. Late into the night, you sat there, waiting until the racing thoughts in your mind would slow and you would finally feel tired enough to succumb to a dreamless sleep. That was what you needed most right now.

It might be best to stay on the rug, you told yourself. You worried that if you returned to the bed, your mind would be alert again with those awful memories. Perhaps you needed to sleep on the floor again until the inevitable stiffness would return to your joints and force you to take the more comfortable spot on the bed. And if the bed was still causing you issues, you would get a new one once spring came.

….. With what jenny would you do that?

You sighed, pulling your face down so your knees were touching your forehead.

Tears and effort and goodwill and your own savings, and all of it for nothing.

As much as you tried to tell yourself that there was no use in being bitter about it, it was hard to keep yourself from feeling that way.

It was late when you finally felt as though you were tired enough that you might be able to sleep. With still no desire to return to the bed, you laid down on the rug, still staring at the fireplace while you hoped that sleep would find you quickly. Despite the slight chill that came from your lack of a blanket, you felt too tired to get up and grab one from the bed. That was a good sign. That you were too comfortable where you were to grab such a thing surely meant that sleep would soon take you, and your mind could have a brief reprieve.

In that moment, that was all you wanted.

A knock sounded at the door.

Though the sound hadn't made with any terrible force, the unexpected noise wrenched you from that place of rest, and you pushed yourself up by your elbows as you turned your head to face the door.

The knock sounded a few moments later, the rapping of knuckles clear against the wooden surface.

In your mind, there was only one explanation: Nobunaga had returned.

Upon that realization, you scowled.

When he knocked a third time, you settled back down onto the rug, your arms wrapped around you while you drew your legs in closer.

You weren't opening the door for him; you were beyond the point of caring.

So you remained determined to ignore him while he continued to try and get your attention, the force of his knocks increasing and becoming more rapid the longer you made him wait. He would figure it out. He would realize that he was no loner welcome, and then he would find shelter elsewhere. Even if he didn't and he stayed on your doorstep until morning, you wouldn't budge: you weren't letting him in.

After several minutes of ceaseless knocking, it finally stopped. At that, you breathed out a sigh of relief and closed your eyes, happy that it was finally over.

It wasn't.

Because something bashed against the door.

Something that, when it hit, was loud enough to make you jump into a sitting position, your heartbeat increasing in seconds as you suddenly felt terror and confusion as you stared at the door.

When that something hit a second time, you were watching as you saw the wood of the door bend inward, buckling beneath the force of whatever had been launched at it. Whatever Nobunaga was using to try and break into your cabin, it was something large and powerful.

You blinked.

He was trying to break in.

He wasn't even allowing you to be in peace after he had assaulted you; he felt entitled enough to demand entry into your home even after you had locked him out.

How could he do that?

“Nobunaga!” you cried, tears forming in your eyes as you forced yourself to call out his name, “just leave me alone! I don't want you here!”

The bashing against the door didn't stop, and once it hit after you had finished speaking, you noticed a large crack in the wood.

You needed to defend yourself. What did you have? Pulling yourself to your feet, you scanned the room. A knife, you noted, near the area that served as your kitchen. It wasn't ideal considering that Nobunaga was stronger than you, but that was the best you could do. You took a step forward to grab it.

That was when the door caved in.

Splinters exploded everywhere accompanied by cold snow, skidding across the floor and landing at your feet. Panic began to set in, and you yelled at yourself to get the knife before he entered-!

Only when you looked to the doorway, what you saw wasn't Nobunaga.

The thing that entered wasn't human.

It resembled a wolf, though it was unlike any wolf you had ever seen. It was as tall as the average man, or perhaps even taller, and it made sure that it towered over you as it stood upon it's hind legs. As it pushed aside the remnants of your door, you saw that the front legs weren't in anyway normal for a wolf. The way they stretched out and the way that they bent – they looked like human arms that had been covered in pitch dark fur, though the deadly looking claws at the ends of those decidedly monstrous hands were equally inhuman.

Your mind was blank as you stared at it in shock.

As as it bent down to enter through the doorway, you found that your feet were taking you away from the creature, backing up until your heels hit the edge of your soft rug and you found yourself tumbling backwards, landing hard on your hands while you kept your eyes on the thing that was entering your home. All you could hear was your heartbeat getting louder and louder in your ears as the creature stepped inside fully and stood back up.

It looked at you and you couldn't think. You weren't capable of rational thought in that moment and your breathing came out fast and harsh through your mouth.

The only thing you knew was fear; a certainty that your death was imminent.

For a brief moment, you wished that Nobunaga hadn't left you.

The wolf creature took a step forward, the claws in its feet digging into the wood flooring while it held out one of those hands in your direction, fingers extended as it appeared to reach for you.

You responded by backing away, using your arms and legs in an attempt to scramble out of its grasp. But your escape was cut short when you reached the edge of the fireplace. Your cabin was small and there was nowhere else to run to. It blocked the only way in or out, and there was no chance that you could slip past it. It would grab you. It would grab you and it would kill you.

Again everything within you felt certain that you would not survive even a few moments more. This was the end.

It was coming closer with its hand still outstretched. You were trapped, caught between it and the fireplace, the heat of the flames now constant against your back.

This was the end, you repeated to yourself.

But you didn't want it to be.

With the fear overtaking you, you began to attack it by throwing whatever was in grabbing distance.

There wasn't much. The only thing closest to you was the fire poker, and all you accomplished when you threw it towards the creature was having it harmlessly bounce off its leg and clatter to the floor. Part of you knew you should have held onto it, that it would be a more effective weapon if you had kept it, but the sheer panic was still controlling you.

That was what drove you to delve your hand into the fire and throw a burning log in it's direction.

You barely felt the heat that singed your palm and fingers, and it was flying within moments.

The creature actually seemed to look shocked at that.

Yet the second attempt to defend yourself ended up being even more pathetic, as you missed the monster completely and the log went flying towards the other side of your room where it landed squarely in the center of your bed.

The mattress and the blankets immediately caught fire, something which the creature noticed immediately.

And then it switched it's attention.

Instead of reaching for you, it rushed over to your burning bed. Your head turned as you watched it, and you saw that it was desperately trying to put out the flames by beating down on them.

….. Why was it doing that?

You only had the briefest moment to wonder that, as your eyes ended up on the doorway that still stood wide open and revealed the snowy night outside.

Open and now with nothing in your way.

For the first moment since seeing that thing, your mind became clear.

So much time had been wasted while you sat in shock, with fear taking over your brain and forcing you to make erratic actions. But if you wanted to possibly live, you needed to run.

It's attention is on the bed. It isn't looking at you. This is the only chance you'll get.

Run.

Run

You were on your feet, sprinting forward with a speed that you didn't think you were capable of. You felt the difference when your bare feet ran over the wooden flooring and when they met with the cold snow. It didn't matter. There was no time to think about how cold it was. No time to grab something heavier than your thin nightgown. No time to do anything except run.

It noticed when you ran.

From the corner of your eye you saw it stand suddenly, looking in your direction. It reached out and you saw it's mouth open.

So many sharp teeth. It would bite into you easily.

You sprinted out into the direction that you were sure led to the town, hoping with all of your might that you would lose it in the woods if it chose to follow. You didn't dare look behind you as you left the cabin, too afraid you would see it sprinting up behind you with all of those teeth on display.

A voice called out amidst the wind. A familiar one.

You didn't dare look back.

Less than a minute later and you were slowing, the adrenaline that had pushed you to run no match for the bitter cold of the night. Your fingers were freezing up and every step into the snow sent pain shooting up through your bare feet. But you could handle it; you just needed to last long enough to make it to the town.

If only the shadows of the trees made by the light of the full moon didn't confuse you, making you stumble as you tried to remember the correct way to Willsden. Things could look so different at night, and now you were looking about wildly as you simultaneously looked for an indication that you were on the correct path as well as for any sign of the monster.

You couldn't see it, hadn't seen it since the cabin. Perhaps you truly had lost it.

That thought gave you a bit of hope as you pushed yourself forward, reinvigorated to get yourself to safety.

But the cold won.

The next time you stumbled, you fell fully and landed with half of your face buried in the snow. Your fingers and toes ached and your limbs felt like ice, and none of them were responding to your commands to move. Even pulling your head out of the snow was too much effort for you and you were fighting to keep your eyes open. The energy was being sapped from you completely and you felt your consciousness beginning to fade.

All of that effort, and for what?

The wind that continued to blow about masked the sound of something coming towards you, and the last thing you were able to note was a large clawed hand that pulled you up from the ground.

…..

You were warm.

That was what your brain was able to register in those early moments of you waking up, and at first you didn't question it. After months of dealing with the cold that you had been doing your best to fight, it was nice to feel the heat that was running through every part of you. From the top of your head to the tips of your toes, you found that it felt good.

You let out a contented hum, and you tried to roll over to your side to get into a more comfortable position.

For some reason, you were unable to do so.

That was fine. You were still warm. You quietly willed yourself to stay like this, having no desire to leave this nice feeling. While you would need to wake up and face the cold reality of winter eventually, a few more minutes like this wouldn't hurt.

Though after a few moments, you found that you were starting to feel a bit too warm.

Being warm was fine, but when you were on the verge of being hot – that was more than a little strange given the current time of the year. And as much as you wanted to stay as you were, your brain was rousing you from slumber, and you slowly came to realize that something wasn't entirely right.

As you began to wake up, you found that the heat you were feeling was strongest at your core, and there was…. Something happening that was making you feel pleasure.

A firm, hot length that repeatedly dove into you, pushing in and out and the way it rubbed against your warm walls – the friction you felt – made you shudder. Something was pounding into your pussy, but you were enjoying it.

You still felt weak, but you attempted to lift your hips anyway, trying to get more of that friction so you could continue to feel good. You weren't anticipating the feeling of pressure on your clit as a result of that, and your mouth opened to let out a soft moan.

Your lips were then overtaken. Another pair of lips, far more rough and with stubble along the jaw that scratched at your skin closed over yours, and a tongue slipped past your teeth to caress against yours.

The groan that sounded wasn't from you. And when your lips were freed, you were able to hear grunts and soft mutterings that came from above you.

The voice was deep and you knew you had heard it before.

Consciousness was steadily returning to you, and you could feel now how your whole body moved as that length pounded into you, causing you to shift slightly on the mattress while the length inside of you would occasionally make jolts of pleasure to run through your body. There was also a noticeable level of soreness present in your pelvic region, and when your hips were shifted so they were situated slightly upwards, you felt something drip from your thighs and down your backside.

What is that? What's happening?

This isn't right

Your eyes snapped open and you finally gazed upon the scene you didn't even know you were part of.

You were in your cabin, on the floor next to the fireplace atop a pile of blankets. Why you weren't in the bed became clear as the bed frame that once held your mattress had been placed in front of the doorway to keep the cold out and your mattress was nowhere to be seen. But that was hardly important as you realized something else: you weren't alone.

Nobunaga was with you.

Nobunaga, who wasn't welcome, but had returned anyway.

Nobunaga, was currently on top of you and positioned between your legs.

Nobunaga, who was naked.

As were you.

And when he pushed his hips forward again, a gasp was forced from your throat in response to the friction caused by his cock dragging against your walls.

A quick glance at your pelvic region showed that his length was buried within you.

…. He was fucking you.

And based on the amount of sweat and cum that covered you both, he'd been going at it for some time now.

Nobunaga paused after realizing that you were awake, your eyes meeting his while he stared down at you, still breathing hard as he did so. Your breathing was just as harsh, you realized, and when you took another glance down at where you were connected, you were horrified at how swollen and sore your clit appeared to be. With all of the fluids and the other marks on your body that you could make out – what was wrong with your legs? – you didn't want to think about how many times he had used you for his own pleasure, or how many times he had played with you in your unconscious state to drag out unknowing reactions from you.

You began to tremble beneath him as you looked back up at him, tears filling up your eyes quickly. Surely he would stop and pull away once he saw that you were awake. Perhaps even look guilty at the fact that you had caught him while he was in the middle of assaulting you.

At the very least he should have stopped.

Instead he leaned down to take your lips in a kiss, and his thrusting started up again, though the pace at which he fucked into you had slowed.

You wanted to protest – to shove him off of you, but when his cock once again dragged along the wet walls of your cunt you were taken off guard, and instead you moaned while your body shuddered.

The blankets beneath you felt disgusting, as they were equally covered in a mixture of bodily fluids.

Nobunaga reached a hand down to turn your face towards him.

“Sorry,” he muttered between thrusts.

You opened your mouth, prepared to yell at him -

He shoved two of his fingers into your mouth, gagging you with his ring finger and middle finger as he kept you quiet so he could continue speaking uninterrupted.

“I know I should've waited for you to wake up. I really didn't plan on doing this while you were asleep.”

His eyes flitted down as he looked over your body, looking over the marks he had left on you while you had been asleep. You attempted to look back down as well, though you only got a brief glance before he used the fingers in your mouth to move your head back up.

“You were so cold by the time I brought you back, and that nightgown was soaked by the snow, so I thought it'd be better if I removed it.”

The nightgown…..

Right. You'd run out into the cold. Because of that thing that had entered your cabin. But whatever had entered was now nowhere to be seen.

Where was it? How had you escaped it? Why was Nobunaga back?

How had things gotten to this point?

Nobunaga continued, saying “I did for you what you did for me; I wrapped you up in a blanket to keep you warm. But I was worried that wouldn't be enough, so I decided I could help more if I held you.”

He slowed down, removing the hand he had on your body in favor of scratching at the back of his head, as though he was embarrassed. As if he was speaking of a slight slip up and not a brutal assault that had clearly lasted hours.

“I tried not to do anything more, but I couldn't help myself. So sorry about that.”

He couldn't be that sorry based on the smile you saw playing on his lips.

With his fingers acting as a gag, words were still beyond you, and you looked back to your body he was ravaging.

What was wrong with your legs?

The dark marks that littered your skin were numerous, but they didn't appear to be simple bruises. The shape wasn't right. Especially not with the way that several lines had erratic patterns that almost seemed as though they had dripped down your thighs.

With a great deal of effort, you pulled one of your legs up. And with the light of the fire, you saw clearer what what those marks were:

Blood from the cuts that littered your thighs.

Tears finally began to fall as you let out a high-pitched whine at the sight, your tongue hitting against Nobunaga's fingers as he kept you gagged.

“Shh, shh, shh.”

Nobunaga leaned in again as you started to cry, kissing you on the cheek as he said “I know, I know. It looks bad. But the cuts aren't deep. They stopped bleeding a while ago. They'll heal up in no time.”

That didn't make you feel any better, and the noise you made indicated that.

He sighed into your hair as he continued “I thought it'd be okay if I took you in my other form first, but after how much I cut you up and how much pain you looked like you were in, I stopped after the first round and waited until morning before I continued.”

Other form?

You didn't understand.

But he wouldn't explain it as he began to increase his pace as he moaned on top of you, concentrating as he plowed into your pussy yet again. Immediately you recognized what was coming and you tried to stop it.

Your efforts were so weak that he didn't even notice the way you attempted to push him off of you, or even how you pulled at the long locks of his hair in desperation. Nothing was stopping him, least of all you.

Nobunaga groaned as he stilled above you, leaving you to cringe as you felt his cum filling you up.

I don't want this

Finally, he removed the fingers that he had lodged in your mouth so he could lean down and take your lips in a kiss.

With no way of fighting him, you were forced to accept what he had done, what he was doing, and what he would no doubt continue to do to you.

All because you had come across an injured man in the forest.

He pulled away from the kiss but stayed close, and you saw veneration in his eyes as he gazed down at you lovingly.

“You're perfect,” he breathed, “I couldn't ask for a better wife.”

You whimpered in response, the tears continuing to fall down your cheeks.

Nobunaga leaned down over you, wiping your tears away before he kissed you again.

“I know,” he said, “I'm happy, too.”

#reader insert #yandere x reader #yandere nobunaga #nobunaga x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere #yandere hxh #hxh x reader #hxh nobunaga #monster au

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rey-jake-therapist · 3 days ago

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If Sauron just wanted an "assistant" and a "figurehead" who would let him do everything he wanted while happily doing his bidding, Mirdania was a much better pick than Galadriel.

I mean, It's always about what "Sauron wanted", but it's never "how Galadriel would have reacted". If he seriously believed that Galadriel would have been okay with being a powerless puppet, then he was even more delulu than I thought lmao Unlike him, Galadriel's not a follower. If she had taken his offer in season 1, she would have fought to get what he promised, I have no doubt about that !

Mirdania, on the other hand, was so easy to manipulate. That's why I wonder if he didn't consider making her, probably not his queen, but what Charlie said : his assistant/PR/figurehead... We all saw him manipulate her to isolate Celebrimbor and make him more vulnerable to his abusive techniques, which was definitely what Sauron was doing with her, partly at least.

Yet, before Mirdania put on the ring and passed in the Unseen world, he didn't care at all about her. She was trying to be friendly with him, and he just stood like... "Is this an insect on my back ?"

But after Celebrimbor put the ring off her finger, that was his reaction when she said what she saw :

Ohh suddenly Mirdania became interesting to him. Because she had been there. Suddenly, he was all over her, even a little too much over her (get your hands off her you creepo!!) :

I think there were many things in this gesture, which is weird even by his own standards; Sauron's a man of words, he seldom touches people to manipulate them.

1st meaning : he was manipulating her : the most obvious meaning. But he had already gotten into her pants when he compared her to "the lady Galadriel", there was no real need to touch her like that.

2nd meaning : he was thinking of Galadriel : ship or don't ship Haladriel, but Mirdania was totally meant to be Galadriel's stand-in: she was blond, with an identical hairstyle, and she wore an almost identical green dress to the one Gal wore in Eregion. And Sauron immediatly noticed it when she came to meet him the first time. Look at how he's looking at her from feet to head, then start immediatly flirting with her :

So, Sauron likely got carried away by his obsession for Galadriel when he touched Mirdania's hair, here.

3rd meaning : maybe, maybe, he started thinking that Mirdania could indeed provide a replacement for Galadriel, in his plans.

Then there was this scene :

Another unnecessary touching. An intimate one that is, look at what he's doing ! We never saw him touch anyone like this before, not even for manipulation sake. It felt like he was trying to feel something. Something in relation to his obsession for Galadriel, again : if he couldn't get Galadriel, maybe Mirdania could do ? But then his face looked like... Not convinced. Not convinced at all.

Later in that same episode, Sauron created an illusion for Celebrimbor where Eregion was doing fine so he would go back to work. After Celebrimbor left (so the illusion was no longer needed), this scene involving a Galadriel lookalike and a faceless man (likely to be a self-insert) telling her these words took place, and caught his attention :

I think it's when he realized that there could be no replacement for Galadriel. He didn't want a pretty submissive Elf girl who would be only perfect for the PR and the paperwork, he wanted the fiery Galadriel who wanted his death.

I mean, it makes Mirdania and Sauron's last interaction easier to understand; he was back at being cold and uncaring, while he was not done with Celebrimbor yet ! He could have still needed to manipulate her, and yet he just looked annoyed when she reached for his hand :

I don't know about you, but the moment I saw the way he looked at her I thought, "oh Mirdania dear, you're so dead". I think it's the moment he decided she was disposable, because whatever project he had for her was cancelled. This cold cynical bastard even told her she would be "duly rewarded".

We all know what came next :

(R.I.P. Mirdania, sorry, really)

#mirdania #sauron #annatar #trop 2x06 #trop 2x07 #galadriel #haladriel #saurondriel #sauron x galadriel #galadriel x halbrand #galadriel x sauron #the rings of power #trop meta #trop

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sebstanaddict · 12 hours ago

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Dressing Up

Bucky Barnes x Avenger Reader Story

A/N : Seb's look in that Thom Browne suit earlier this week made me want to write something with that look in mind. So, based on one of your requests, here it is. Hope you guys enjoy it :)

Summary: Bucky and Y/n are both Avengers on an undercover mission to infiltrate a gala hosted by Countess Valentina Allegra de Fontaine. Bucky was not used to wearing a formal suit and so Y/n helps him get ready. But their closeness during the preparation lead to something more.

Pairings : Bucky Barnes x Avenger Reader

Warning : none I think, let me know if you find any

Word count : 1.3k words

Read more Bucky one shots here

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Dressing Up

Bucky stood in the suite of the five star hotel, adjusting the position of the waistband of his black trousers as he glanced nervously at the formal three-piece suit hanging nearby. He wasn’t used to this kind of thing—suits, ties, dressing up for high-society events. He was much more comfortable in tactical gear or his leather jackets, ready for action. But tonight, appearances mattered. They had a mission to infiltrate a gala hosted by Countess Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, and the evening called for sophistication, not combat gear.

Just then, Y/n stepped into the room, and his breath caught. She wore a sleek black dress that hugged her in all the right places, accentuating her curves and radiating an elegance that left him speechless. He’d always admired her confidence on the field, but seeing her like this—composed, graceful, and utterly captivating—did something to him he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Oh… wow,” he managed to say, his voice nearly a whisper. She smiled, clearly catching his reaction, a blush tinting her cheeks.

"Thanks. You’re looking a bit unprepared, though," she teased, glancing at his half-dressed state, he was only wearing the black trousers and white undershirt.

“Come on, let’s get you into this suit,” she added with a playful smirk, holding up the white dress shirt she’d picked out for him. “Arms up.”

Bucky chuckled, holding up his vibranium arm slightly. “Just might need a little extra help getting this in."

She nodded, feeling a flicker of nervousness as she stepped close to him. Sliding his flesh hand through the sleeve was effortless, but guiding the vibranium arm was another story. The shirt clung stubbornly to the plates and ridges of the arm, and it took a couple of tries for her to adjust the fabric and ease the sleeve up over the hard, cool vibranium.

“Almost got it…” she murmured, concentrating as she gave the sleeve one last gentle tug, and finally, it slipped into place.

Bucky let out a relieved sigh. “You’ve got the touch,” he said with a soft grin, glancing down at her. She caught his eyes for a second longer than she meant to, suddenly hyper-aware of the space—or lack thereof—between them.

Trying to steady herself, she focused on buttoning his shirt, her fingers brushing his chest as she moved down, fastening each button slowly. The warmth of his skin contrasted with the coolness of the vibranium, and she found herself acutely aware of the solid muscle beneath her hands.

She bit her lip, willing herself to focus, but each button she fastened only brought her closer to him, her fingers brushing against his collarbone, his chest. Her cheeks flushed, and she tried not to think about the warmth radiating from him or the way he looked at her with those intense blue eyes.

“You know,” she said, trying to maintain her composure, “this shirt is almost too good for you.”

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Almost?”

Her heart skipped at his playful tone, and she shot him a coy smile. “Alright, more than good,” she admitted, her voice softening. “Perfect, actually.”

He smiled as he heard her. “Glad to know that.”

After fastening the last button, she helped him tuck the shirt into the waistband of his trousers, their hands brushed as she worked and she felt a tingling sensation as they touched. She paused for a moment, looking up at him and noticed his cheeks were pink and she stepped back.

“Umm.. I think you can handle it yourself.” She murmured, feeling her cheeks warm.

He cleared his throat and started adjusting the shirt himself. “Yeah..”

Once he was done she turned and reached for the black cashmere vest sliding it over his shoulders and smoothing the fabric across his chest. Her fingers moved down his torso as she fastened each button, her pulse racing as she took in how effortlessly the suit framed his figure. The warmth of his body seeped through the fabric, making her hands tremble slightly. She swallowed, glancing up to find his gaze on her, his eyes darker than usual, and the intensity made her breath catch.

“Now for the tie,” she murmured, picking up the silk tie she’d chosen, a black one. She looped it around his neck, and as she leaned closer, their faces were just inches apart. She could feel his breath warm against her skin, the faint scent of mint teasing her senses. Her hands shook as she tightened the knot, and she forced herself to focus on the silk in her hands instead of the temptation to simply close the distance between them.

She managed to steady her breathing, but the moment her hands brushed his neck as she tightened the tie, he leaned in a fraction closer, a smirk pulling at his lips. “You’re pretty good at this,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly.

She caught herself staring at his mouth for a moment, her cheeks burning. “Guess I’m just a fan of a man in a suit,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze drifted over his face, down the sharp line of his jaw, and she could feel her resolve weakening with every second.

After a heartbeat, she stepped back slightly, needing the distance to regain some composure, but her eyes lingered on the dresser where a bottle of cologne sat. She picked it up without thinking, holding it out to him. “One last touch. Just… a little cologne,” she murmured, almost nervous.

Bucky smiled, taking the bottle, his eyes never leaving hers as he sprayed a bit onto his wrists and neck. The smoky cedarwood scent filled the air, mixing with the warmth of his skin, and it was almost intoxicating. She felt herself getting lost in it, the scent wrapping around her and drawing her closer to him. Her heart raced, her mind spinning with thoughts she usually kept buried.

“You, uh… smell good,” she managed, feeling her cheeks grow hotter. He smiled softly, his expression turning serious as he took a step closer, his gaze trailing over her from head to toe.

“So do you,” he murmured, his voice filled with something deep and unguarded. His gaze traveled over the curve of her waist, the way her dress hugged her body, and he swallowed. “You look… stunning, Y/n.”

Her heart skipped, and she felt a warmth flood through her at the way he said her name. She was used to his protectiveness, his strength, but this side of him—the vulnerable softness in his voice, the admiration in his eyes—felt different. It stirred something inside her, something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel before. And suddenly, the mission was the last thing on her mind.

He stepped closer, just a whisper between them now, his eyes searching hers. “You know,” he began, his voice soft, “I don’t think I’ve ever told you how much I admire you.”

Her breath caught as his hand brushed against hers, and she felt a thrill she couldn’t ignore. His gaze dropped to her lips, and for a moment, she thought he might close the distance.

Instead, he pulled back slightly, his voice lower, almost hesitant. “Maybe after this… we could go out sometime?” He looked at her with a cautious, hopeful expression, and she felt a rush of warmth at his vulnerability, at the fact that he was letting her in.

A smile broke across her face, and she nodded, her voice soft but sure. “I’d like that.”

The electricity in the air felt almost tangible as they lingered, each savoring the moment, until finally, she tore her gaze away with a gentle laugh. “Come on, Soldier. We’ve got a mission to get to.”

He chuckled, looking a little more confident as he slipped into his jacket. “Right. But just know,” he added with a wink, “I’m already looking forward to our date.”

She laughed, the sound carrying a lightness that hadn’t been there before, and as they headed out the door, they both knew something had changed. Beyond the mission, beyond the gala—they had something to look forward to.

#sebastian stan #sebastianstan #bucky #bucky barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier

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mightbeimpossiblenotto · 2 days ago

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Press - Oct 20 - @rosekillermicrofic - 646 words - Warnings: none

Barty was running so late. He’d scheduled the interview for directly after his lunch break, which was a mistake because he always used his lunch break for free-writing time. He was currently writing a thriller novel, and he was just at the part where the protagonist finally figures out who the big bad villain is, and Barty couldn’t pull himself away until he finished putting his thoughts to paper. He just hoped the bloke he was interviewing would understand.

He practically ran into the French restaurant, blurting his name to the hostess and the name of his interviewee. She gave him appraising look, twisting her mouth up at him, but Barty gave her his best disarming grin and she quickly melted. She led him towards the back of the restaurant, away from the windows and light-airy vibe of the front. It was more relaxed and dim back here, but the tables had decent enough overhead lighting that Barty wouldn’t have to move them to another table in order to see his notes. The hostess left him in front of a small table with two chairs, and a man sitting at the table with short, curly blond hair and deep, bronzed skin. He flicked his eyes up at Barty, and they were a warm amber shade that made something flutter in Barty’s stomach. He ignored it.

“Hello, I’m Barty Crouch, Jr., reporter with Crouch Chronicle,” Barty greeted smoothly, holding out his hand for the man to shake. He rose gracefully, reaching slim fingers out to grasp Barty’s hand and bob up-and-down only three times before letting go.

“Nice to meet you,” the man said, his voice like silk. “Evan Rosier.”

“Yes, I’ve seen your art,” Barty said, pulling out his chair and taking a seat. He took a sip of his water. “I’m a big fan of Roses.”

Evan’s eyes locked with his for a moment before he spoke. “Thank you. That’s a very personal piece. The press doesn’t usually care about that one.”

Barty raised his eyebrows, surprised. The piece depicted a man’s hand, scarred from tiny cuts all over, holding a bouquet of three roses, two of them a pale shade of white and one a dark, inky black. The black rose is twined around the other two, leaves nearly choking the two pale roses. The thorns from all three are cutting into the man’s hand, and blood runs down his wrist. The blood in particular is detailed, almost appearing wet on the canvas. Barty had gotten to see the piece in person at a gallery opening a year or so ago, when he’d been writing an article for the gallery. Most of the pieces in the gallery had meant nothing to him, but he connected with that one piece by Evan Rosier, and he remembered the name.

“Oh, I found it quite emotional,” Barty said quietly, a little thrown off. He shook that off, quickly becoming professional again and diving into the interview questions.

Evan was polite but withdrawn, his answers short until Barty pulled the details out of him with more questions. Their interview ran an hour longer than he had planned without Barty even noticing, until Evan told him he had to meet with his sister. Barty apologized for taking up so much of his time, waving him off when Evan tried to bring out his wallet. But as Barty paid the bill, Evan lingered at the table, waiting for Barty to finish writing out the tip and the total and sign the receipt. When Barty finally looked up at him, Evan was flushing a little, his cheeks ever so slightly red under his dark skin.

“I was wondering if you’d like to see me again, sometime,” Evan suggested. His hands were fidgeting nervously with his mobile, twisting it around and around in his hands. It was endearing.

“Absolutely,” Barty agreed. “Anytime.”

#barty crouch jr #evan rosier #evan x barty #rosekiller #marauders #barty crouch x evan rosier #rosekiller microfic #microfic #microfic prompt #maurauders microfic

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middlingmay · 2 days ago

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WOTA Halloween Event 2024 Fic

Long Kiss Goodnight (8K)

Bucky isn't the only one losing himself inside Stalag Luft III. When Gale realises Bucky has resolved to die there if it's the only way to make their imprisonment end, it feels like relief. Because it means he can, too. But he doesn't want to wait and see Bucky suffer for longer than he has to. So he tries to give him the push he needs, so they can finally escape the camp the only way he knew how and be together.

Read on AO3, or read below.

Content warnings: suicidal ideation, alcohol poisoning and vomiting, battery. Potential character death. Themes of murder-suicide.

John had been drifting.

Further than he'd ever gone from Gale over any seas or above any clouds.

The elation he'd felt when John had staggered into their Stalag had withered and died after a few short weeks. Right about the time John realised they were there to stay, and their time in the war was over. They were stuck. Captured and contained. Utterly impotent.

Gale wanted to choke him. To grab his face until the skin purpled under his fingers and bloodied under his nails. He wanted to squeeze that thick neck hard until the veins stood out. He wanted to scream and spit in John's face for coming back—for daring to give him the hope that they were still in this together—when he was just going to leave him here anyway.

Because John drifted. He watched the guards with too sharp an eye. It made the goons nudge each other and look back with narrow eyes. As soon as John's distinctive size and gait loped outside, day or night, they watched him. It worried the boys so much that Brady and Crank took it upon themselves to break that stalemate whenever they saw it happen.

John liked to flirt with the fence line, too. Had figured out, quicker than any of them, where the line was. That point between the bark of a guard and the crack of a gun. And he liked to press up on it real close. Like pushing on a bruise.

Gale was the only one who could pull him back from that line. But sometimes, more and more often, Gale just watched him.

He watched the bright light of the 100th, Major John C Egan, dim and darken. The cheek-splitting happy grin sharpened to a sneer. The glint of mirth in his eyes spoiled to bitterness and desperation.

But never defeat.

Because Gale knew John better than anyone else in the world. Let the others think John was cracked, losing it, most of them putting it down to whatever had landed him on their doorstep black-blue and a few others colours besides, bones cracked and blood crusted and a meaner streak than he had ever possessed in America and England.

But not Gale. He knew when John was plotting something. And he knew what he was plotting, besides.

His Plan B. Or C or D or whatever they were on. If all else failed—continued to fail.

Maybe, in another life, Gale would have been afraid. Frantic to save his best friend's life. But in this one, where he was so dog-tired trying to keep the 100th going all by himself; where the thought of home tasted like ash if it meant going there alone; where he found himself pleading to a God he didn't believe in to just let this end: in this life, John's plotting was a relief.

Only two pilots left in the sky.

We're gonna get through this. I need you to keep believing that.

John wasn't a liar, even to his detriment. He was right: they were getting out of this together. And if John was plotting the quickest way for release if liberation and escape failed, that meant Gale finally could, too.

Because John would have to go first. Gale wouldn't ever leave him behind. He'd see John off, then he'd jump straight into that void after him.

John couldn't know, of course. He'd take it all wrong. He'd take it as Gale trying to get rid of him. Even worse, he'd take it as Gale trying to make things easier on himself with one less person to worry about, one less threat to his happy reunion with the lovely Marge.

He was self-deprecating like that. He wouldn't see it for what it was: Gale trying to keep the promises they'd made to each other and get out of this together. Even if it was a little unconventional.

So, as much as he didn't want to cause John any more suffering, he'd have to give him that little push to tip him, so Gale could follow. Right on his six.

He started by making it clear there were no viable options for escape, cutting Bucky's dwindling hope down even more swiftly. The Brits helped in that regard. Gale resented the fifty souls that got out before him and Bucky, but it served the purpose of sobering any discussion about escape.

Gale caught John's eye in the fading light of a candle as they, together with Ham, Crank, Brady, Benny and Murph, contemplated what this meant for their future at the camp.

"It means," Gale said low and clear and commanding. Like the Major he had been, once. "That escape is off the table. You want out so bad, you may as well walk right up to that fence and ask a Kraut to shoot you."

The boys muttered and filed off to bed, defeated and angry. But John? He sat and started at Gale, and those midnight eyes glittered with fury.

Gale thought it was a beautiful burn. He'd always been in awe of how much and how readily Bucky felt things. How he embraced those feelings so easily, good or bad. Next to him, Gale felt like a moth, butting into the light and the warmth even though it was scalding.

Glowering darkly, John left him there. Despite the pull that had tethered them together all these years, Gale didn't climb into his bunk after him. He didn't want to take John's stewing off the heat.

Bright and early, when the sky was still grey with a coming morning, Gale was woken by the creak of thin wood and the rattle of a door opening and closing.

It was time.

He dressed, thick socks and boots and his overcoat over the clothes he slept in. A quick glance out of the window confirmed it: John was up and prowling already, heading straight for the fence.

"Buck?" Brady's voice, scratchy and thick with sleep called out behind him. Brady: John's devoted co-pilot, like Benny was his. Their perfect balance. Their counter in the cockpit. He'd seen Huglin blanch once when someone said he and John should pilot the same fort together, and he understood it. They fed and nurtured each other's worst impulses. And whilst neither of them would endanger their men, that was about the only line they wouldn't cross.

They needed men like Brady and Benny to keep them level.

But that wouldn't do at all, today.

"Go back to sleep, Brady," he said softly. "Just couldn't sleep is all."

Brady might have listened, if he hadn't cast a habitual glance over to Bucky's bunk and found it rumpled and empty, the covers thrown back like he hadn't been able to bear staying in bed one more second.

Brady's eyes got round and worried and he grabbed a fistfull of his own ratty blanket, ready to launch himself out of the door and track down his errant Major.

"Brady." Gale clipped the order. "I said go back to sleep." He nodded to the window. "I've got him. He's doing fine."

Brady slumped back onto his cot. If he had it in him, if Gale had anything in him anymore, he might have felt guilty about the lie. But it wasn't really a lie. John had strode a whole half-foot over the invisible line separating him from a look from a guard and a beating. He was doing real good. So close to where Gale wanted him to be.

Gale meandered out of the hut. Wouldn't do for Brady to wake up again and get any bright ideas.

The guards were shouting at John, gesturing with flat, gloved hands, jabbing their guns in his direction without touching him. Yet. The few others who were up this early didn't know John well enough to intervene. But just in case, Gale slowly started to drag his feet in Bucky's direction. Even outside of the 100th in this camp the Buckies came as a package deal; it would look strange if Gale didn't throw himself into any scene of John's making. Besides, it was down to Gale to perform the encore.

He didn't think it would be hard. Getting them to shoot him after John. He didn't think he'd have to act like he was out of his mind with grief. It would be real.

But the guards, or one of them in particular who'd been frothing to go toe-to-toe with John for a while, was still and silent and staring. He didn't curl his finger around the trigger of his gun. Instead, he flipped it, the thick butt a gleaming stripe in the bleak landscape.

A flash, and he'd smashed it into John's face.

John didn't go down, and Gale picked up his pace.

The guard lifted his gun again and cracked it on the fleshy rounded tip of John's nose. Gale could see the blood. He heard John laugh, high and cracking. Gale started to jog.

The guard lifted a leather boot and planted it into John's ribs, finally getting him grounded. Between the butt of his gun and the stamp and swing of his foot, he rained hell down on John Egan.

Gale was all out sprinting now. This isn't what he wanted. He wanted it quick and clean, not like this. John had been beaten down enough; Gale couldn't tolerate seeing any more of it. Christ, that was the whole point of this whole thing.

"Hey! Hey!" Gale bellowed and it rang out into the quiet morning, and the guard stopped his boot on the upswing. The look he gave Gale was vicious and displeased.

"Stoppen. Mischen Sie sich nicht ein."

Gale ignored him, ignored the other guards starting to come closer, and threw himself over John when he finally reached him.

"He didn't do anything! He was just standing there!"

The guard spat on the ground. Flecks hit Gale's face on the way down.

"Nimm ihn. Und sag ihm, er soll es nicht noch einmal versuchen. Oder das nächste Mal werde ich nicht so sanft sein." He jerked his gun in the vague direction of the huts, and Gale pulled John out of the dirt and the mud and slung his arm over his shoulder.

"Buck," John trilled in his ear. "Fancy seeing you here. You interrupted my date. Kinda friend does that?"

Gale steered him back towards the hut. "Don't think your date was going all that well, Bucky. Come on, let's get you fixed up."

Most of the boys were some kind of awake when Gale dragged them both through the door. Sitting up in their bunks, or standing with coats on over the long johns as they stamped their feet and shuffled around and tried to get a meagre heat into them to start the day. When they saw John, bloodied up and dirty, they all sprang to attention.

"Jesus, what happened?"

"I thought you said you had him?"

"Where's the med kit?"

"How did you let this hap—"

With his spare hand Gale grabbed Brady by one collar, and shut him up. "Help Crank find the kit. Now."

Brady loitered for a moment, stared at him like a stranger, but took up his duty and helped Crank search through their pitiful supplies to help his Major and his co-pilot.

Gale dropped John into a chair, and pulled another in front of him. A tiny cup of water was offered up—Hambone—and Gale took a mental note to give him his own rations later.

A thin little square of a rag was pressed into Gale's hand, and each and every one of the boys clustered around them in an arc of fluffed up hens.

John waved a hand at them, frowning. "Alright, nothing to see here. Just a friendly chat with a goon. Scram why don'tcha. Breakfast will be waitin' for ya any minute."

They obeyed, reluctantly and without urgency.

"I'll get yours for you, Bucky," Brady said on his way out.

"Yeah, you too Buck." Benny pushed him over the threshold.

Silence followed. Gale broke it only with the tinkling of water squeezed back into the cup. Bucky huffed out puffs of breath as Gale dabbed at the scrapes and cut on the side of his face. Gale had to make sure were clean. Infection and fever was as nasty a way to go as a beating.

Bucky watched him the whole time. His eyes had always been dark for being so blue. And sometimes when they stormed up Gale had found them difficult to look at. But he'd always forced himself to weather it, and he forced himself now.

Bucky who knew him better than anyone. Could he read Gale's plan on his face? In the slight shake of his hand? Were his eyes shining the truth of his guilt into Bucky's soul?

"Not going to tell me not to do it again?"

No. Do it better. Do it worse. Get shot through the head good and clean instead of beaten, you complete fool.

"I'm done telling you to do anything," Gale said instead, flat and unkind. They couldn't afford for him to coddle John, now. In the end it would be worth it. It would be worth it. He'd make up for it, in whatever awaited them beyond. "You ain't listened to me a day since you turned up here, and you're not going to listen to me now."

John hummed and cleared his throat. "Finally got sick of dragging me outta my own messes, huh?"

John's eyes were more open than Gale had seen them in a while. Like Gale's answer was worth being present for. And Gale was so desperately tired of the both of them being pushed down and down in this place, was so desperate to find some peace for the two of them together, that he couldn't tell Bucky the truth. The less he had to hold on to, the quicker their ever after could come.

He pushed back the chair with a scrape. "Yeah. Something like that, John."

He stumbled when he heard the plaintive, painful wisp of sound in Bucky's throat, cut off as the hut door slammed open and the boys returned with their chow.

Starving to death was too slow, too stressful on the rest of the boys, or Gale would have tried it months ago.

John steered clear of the fence for a while.

Gale had been careful to put distance between then, to stop being the pillar for John to lean on and the force pulling him back down to earth, all whilst trying not to be obvious about it. Just enough for John to notice and to wonder if it was all in his head. To give him scraps of what they used to be without any kind of their old foundations.

Each night Gale went to sleep with cramps in his stomach. He wanted to curl up next to John, to hold him through the night and be the first thing he saw in the morning. He wanted to see a way out, a light ahead that meant they could keep breathing each others air, but there was none. Instead there were tree stumps and calculus and fake baseball games and Gale's heart broke every time he was faced with what this place had reduced his Bucky to. What this place had forced him to do because there was no. way. out.

But even so, John was giving the fence a far wider berth than normal.

Which left them both miserable and stagnant.

Gale would have to give John another push.

The idea came to him on mail day. John usually made himself scarce as names were being called out and envelopes pushed into greedy hands. He already knew he wasn't getting one. He'd told Gale once, in an awful moment of clarity, that no one at home cared to write him a letter, and he wasn't about to stick around for the reminder.

Gale had been meaning to ask Marge if she'd write John, too, but it was a moot point, now. He'd written her a letter, explaining everything. He didn't want her thinking he was some victim of this place. He wanted her to know it was his choice. That with John getting further and further away from him, giving up on any possibility of their freedom, Gale refused to do any of this without him. He had to hold on to him the only way he knew.

She'd never forgive him, but that was a problem for the living. They were only half that, Gale and John.

So the next time letters were being handed out, Gale accepted his slip from Marge and hustled after John as he slipped out the door.

He didn't even have to call out. Bucky turned to walk backwards, giving Gale a queer look.

"What you doing out here? Marge finally give the pen a rest?"

Gale brandished the perfumed envelope with as big a smile as he could manage. Something shuttered behind John's eyes and he grinned sharp and wolfish back.

"Then get. Read your letter, Buck, and leave me out of it."

"We could read it together," Gale announced, generous and jovial and hoping Bucky couldn't see the strain at the sides of his eyes.

"No fuckin' thank you."

John turned on his heel and Gale had to jog to catch up.

"Come on," he pushed. "A little slice of home for you."

John scoffed and sneered at him nasty. "Like I need the reminder that I've got nothin' waiting for me outside of this goddamn camp. Gotta say, Buck, it's not like you to rub something like that in a guy's face. It's almost cruel." That darker side of John sounded almost pleased, like it was proud of him, and Gale's throat jumped to think John saw more of him than he let on.

Their good sides were bonded souls. Made sense their bad sides were, too.

Gale pretended offence. "Don't get snippy with me just because you got nobody."

John drew his lips in a thin line and looked away. Sure signs Gale's hit had landed. A bombsight couldn't have helped him land it better.

"Nobody."

Gale shrugged. Inside, that impulse to grab John and make him look Gale in the eye, to tell him he had him, they had each other and that was all that mattered, reared up screaming. But Gale beat it down.

"You were the one that decided none of the dames in Texas, and none of the girls in England were good enough. Any one of them would have been happy to wait for you. No one to blame but yourself, Bucky. So quit feeling sorry for yourself."

And John gifted him with a face he reserved for Colonels: a blank veneer with only the slightest ambiguous uptick at the corner of his mouth. The one he put up when he knew spilling what he really felt or thought was only going to lead to something bad.

Good. I can't take this much more John. Seeing you hurt. God, end it. End it for both of us.

"Fuck off, Gale. Read your damn letter. Jerk off to Marge baking pies or gossiping to the neighbours or whatever mundane, domestic, pathetic shit she writes to you about. Cry whilst you do it, even. You seem the type. Just fuck off."

John marched off without a word, and Gale swallowed the yell of his name he wanted to chase him down with.

Let him feel it. Let him feel alone. He won't be, when it's all over. You'll be together, out of here at last.

John didn't return after the letters had been read and then read again. He didn't return to taunt the men during their shifts on the stump puller. He didn't return to choke down shitty rations with them. And he didn't return when night fell and curfew was almost upon them.

Gale felt the fear of the boys. But all he could feel was anticipation. Waiting for the knock at the door, when a goon would break the news that Bucky had gotten into trouble after lockdown and they'd shot him to make an example. Gale watched it play out in his mind: he'd finally let himself feel something honest and let his heartbreak feed his anger and attack the guard, and they'd put a bullet in him too. They'd toss their bodies in the same hole. Gale could lie in the cradle of John's legs, over the expanse of his chest, forever.

The knock never came. The door was booted in, instead.

John was limp between two men, unconscious. Brady and Crank leapt forward to take him, and Ham and Murph grabbed the fellas by their patchy, dirty jackets before they could retreat.

"The fuck did you do to him?" Ham growled and the fella in his grasp balked at his nasty scar and gleaming teeth.

"Nothing! He's fine—just drunk!"

Brady and Crank lowered John onto his bunk, and Gale could smell the bitter smell of alcohol all the way from his own.

The men were British, and the one Murph pressed against the wall had the gall to sneer at John. "Arsehole came in a wiped out our stash playing cards. Don't know how he's not dead. Stuff would burn the stomach lining right off you."

With a jerk of Gale's head, Ham and Murph tossed the Brits out on their ass.

John didn't move. Gale stared at him. Disappointment tried to swallow him up. He thought, he really thought this would be it, but John had found a way to extend their misery yet again. Gale pressed a hand to his forehead. He was clammy and cold. His breaths were irregular, too shallow more than not. His pulse was slow and sluggish.

Not just drunk. Dead drunk.

Crank shook his head. "Trust Bucky to find a way to get smashed in a prisoner of war camp, Jesus."

Brady stood at Gale's shoulder. "Someone will need to watch him. Make sure he doesn't choke."

Hope sparked up in him again.

"I will. Rest of you get to bed."

Protest rose up in the puff of Brady's chest.

"That's an order, Captain."

Gale watched John as the others got ready for bed, and his resentment grew with each staggering breath Bucky tried to take.

He waited until the bunk was full of the sounds of snuffling and snores until he let himself drop next to Bucky's side. His eyes roved over the pronounced curve of John's nose, the wide arch of his cheeks, the square of his jaw. That bony structure thrust into sharper relief from hunger.

But Gale still thought John was beautiful. He was beautiful when he was bloated and uncomfortable with alcohol. He was beautiful when he was dripping with sweat and stank to high heaven in their early PT days. He was beautiful when he was all but barking at their commanding officers and egging Gale to indulge his wilder impulses. And he was beautiful now, probably poisoned from potent, raw booze brewed deep in bleakest Sagan.

Gale swept back curls lank with grease and dirt and sweat.

"What are you dragging this out for, hm?" he murmured it into Bucky's ear. In case one of the boys woke up, or wasn't as asleep as Gale thought he was.

"Aren't you tired? Don't you wanna rest, sweetheart? Because I do."

He plucked up John's hand and held it.

"We made each other a promise, you and I. That one way or another, we'd get out of this thing together. And thing is—" He swallowed past the lump and the cracking in his throat. "Thing is I think you're right. I don't think we're being rescued, and I don't think we're escaping any time soon. God, I don't even know if we're gonna win this war. What kind of Major does that make me? What kind of man to lead the boys? I don't want to. I don't want to. I'm so damn tired, John. I'm so tired of being the one the boys look up to. I'm tired of bearing the weight. I'm tired of seeing you hurting over and over, dying here right in front of me. I'm tired of pretending there's a life waiting for me out of here that isn't with you."

He pressed a kiss to each and every knuckle. "So, you can stop fighting now, alright? You go, and I'll go with you. I'm just waiting for you, gorgeous. Let Brady or Benny or Crank lead the boys. They're much more fit for it. Let's you and I get out of here, get some rest finally."

Gale cast a slow, careful look around. Not that there was much light to see by, but silhouettes could be just and damning, and that wasn't how he wanted either of them to go. There was an honourable, clean execution, and there were Krauts murdering the queers. But no one was looking, and Gale pushed forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Bucky's lax mouth. Let just the tip of his tongue dart forward and taste the zing of strong booze that could knock out a man of Bucky's tolerance.

Then he slipped back into his bunk, and watched.

He woke to a wretched coughing.

John. He was jerking and twitching and kicking and—

Choking.

And he still wouldn't wake up.

Gale was out of his bunk and had hands full of John before his sleep-deprived mind could catch up. Bucky's dead weight was nothing to sniff at, even with the weight he'd shed since coming to Stalag Luft III. Gale yanked and pulled, but couldn't get Bucky on his side. His heart hammered in his chest, the only though in his mind running round like a carousel.

Turnoverturnoverturnover. You son of a bitch turn over.

He braced a foot against the board of Bucky's bunk and threw all his wait into trying to get Bucky on his side.

But he couldn't do it. He couldn't do it and the panic and fear overrode everything. Weak, pathetic sounds fell from his mouth that later he wouldn't remember. He couldn't hear anything over the wet gargling from Bucky.

"Come on, Bucky!"

Gale gave one last desperate heave, and hands wrapped around his waist and his shoulders and others grabbed onto John, too. And finally John was hauled over, and the bitter frothy poison tumbled from his mouth onto his bed, the floor, Gale's pants and boots.

And still he didn't wake.

When he was empty, spitting up nothing but tiny white bubbles, Gale left John in the hands of whoever had come to help. Gale hadn't so much as looked up to see who it all was. He simply got up and shoved through the door, curfew be damned.

He got as far as the corner of the hut and bent double and vomited.

He could have let John die. He should have let John die. That was the plan. Then Gale could have gotten himself killed in the morning and that would have been that.

But it hadn't been a thought, in the moment. He'd seen John thrashing and kicking and had nothing in his body or his mind but the need to make it fucking stop.

He was so damn sick of himself. Of his weakness. Of letting John down time and time again.

A hand gently thumped on his back.

"Ay, get it up, Buck. That's it."

Benny. Faithful Benny. Best damn co-pilot in the 100th.

Buck came up gasping. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Benny grabbed onto his shoulders. "He's got it out his system now. He'll be alright. Hell of a head in the morning, but that won't stop us putting that bastard on stump duty for scaring us all half way to hell. Son of a bitch."

Gale shook his head. He couldn't blink. His eyes blurred and stang and he couldn't blink. "I can't…he can't stay here, Benny. It's killing him, I—I have to get him out of here."

Benny's mouth twisted in a pitying line and Gale wanted to throw up again. "S'killing all of us, Buck. Just some slower than others, is all. But us? We can stay one step ahead of that big goodnight with you at our backs, hm?"

Yeah. They could. Because Gale was gonna give that reaper two souls; keep it fed for a while longer and see if he and Bucky can buy their boys some time.

Gently, he pushed Benny's hands off him. "I'm alright. Let's get…let's get to bed."

Benny made Buck go first. The door closed behind them with a tiny thump, and when Gale took his place on his bunk, he saw John was still on his side, but with one knee curled up and a hand placed under his head.

Gale didn't sleep until the sky outside turned grey.

Like storming seas, things crashed and ebbed at the same moment.

After that day, the afternoon really when Bucky had finally awoken with no apparent memory of the night before, the distance between them stretched as far as it could go without snapping. John's low profile, like a belly-crawling dog been kicked around too much, didn't last long. It wasn't in his nature to be so remorseful. John's itching and his wildness and his restlessness, that far off and empty look in his eyes that only ever really sharpened into the present when a Kraut with a gun got close enough, ramped up. And up. And up.

But never seemed to go nowhere.

Gale wanted to crawl out of his skin. He wanted to throw himself at John's feet and beg him to get it over with. He wanted to drag him and drop him at a goon's boots himself and kneel there until it was his turn to eat a bullet.

His prayers to Bucky sick with drink had gone unanswered, and he was afraid he was going to have to watch John waste away here and die slowly, agonisingly far from the man he was at his core.

Gale had failed him so badly, unable to let him go. Two chances they'd had so far, but Gale was so set on a good quick death for his Bucky, he'd had to step in at the last minute, and keep Bucky stuck here with him. Trapped and rotting.

Good thing they weren't getting out of here alive. Bucky would never forgive him for keeping him going for so long. Gale was never going to forgive himself.

He wasn't an overly religious man, and less so now than ever, but he wondered if that was a penance he'd carry with him in death. But it would be okay, so long as he could look at Bucky whilst he bore it. Youthful and vibrant and more alive than he was right now floating around the earthly realm.

"Come on. Skins versus Bones. What do you say? Skins can be the, uh-the away team. Actually, no. No, we’re all away. Pfft. We’re both the away teams!"

Skin and bones. Away, away. Hurry up and climb down into the dirt, Johnny. It's waiting for you and so am I.

He shoved Bucky down, and there John laid back looking more peaceful in the mud than he did curled up in his pitiful bunk. Like it was a suite at the Ritz. He looked up at Gale, like a lover waiting for him to descend down to his level and join him.

King Cleven.

King and God in heaven: that's how John used to look at him. Now he looked at him like a sinner awaiting judgement, desperate to begin their eternity.

Me too, baby. Just a bit longer.

And because he knew John better than he knew himself, Gale knew he couldn't accept a hand up right now. Wouldn't let himself accept the kindness and fraternity of his brothers in the 100th. Wouldn't let himself accept Gale's touch without snapping at his hand.

So Gale offered it. Gave John the perfect opportunity to bite and hate himself a little more in the hopes that this would be it: this would John's final thread and all of this could end.

"Come on. Get up, you loony. Come on, get up. Get up, you loony."

John had always danced so perfectly to Gale's music, and unlike Gale he didn't let his other half down now. A kick and a thrash and a smack and a tumble and John sent Gale sprawling down into the dirt with him.

Gale was so proud of him. It hurt that he couldn't tell him before the end, lest he accidentally stay John's execution at the last moment. Then his rib cracked under John's boot, and John's nose bloodied under Gale's fist, and Gale finally felt it.

Felt something move. Shift. Break. And start to drift away. He felt his eyes sting with the joy and relief of it.

Then clipped, abrupt German erupted over the camp tannoys, and everything Gale had been holding to was upended in the worst way.

"They landed, didn’t they? We're in Western Europe. It finally happened."

That thing that had felt more than improbable but impossible: liberation and freedom. It was marching on them . For them. And Gale wanted to rage and weep.

They were so close. So close to it being over. So close to being together in the dark and the quiet even if they never made it back to America. And now the Allies had gone and ruined it, yanked it all away by starting a slow campaign into enemy territory that threatened to undo all the painstaking, heartbreaking, torturous work he'd done so far so push John over the edge he loved to flirt with so much. Both of them were hanging on by their fingertips and Gale wanted so badly to just let go and freefall. He'd look at John the whole way down, untilt he met the black and the void.

But then John woke up.

He'd found that last morsel of his will to keep going and used it to gain a foothold, to haul himself back up over the edge, even if it was by an inch. And that son of a bitch tried to drag Gale up with him.

That night in the hut, in as private a moment as they could get by their bunks when mostly everyone else was following a high-spirited card game, John found him. Clear-eyed John extended a gentle hand to brush against Gale's cracked rib and whispered,

"I'm sorry, Buck. I'm so sorry. I hurt you, I—"

Gale flinched and bared his teeth. His eyes shone with frustration and sorrow. How could John do this now? How could he approach with with softness and regret and that awful, sickening goddamn clarity when Gale had been scooping out the best parts of himself just to secure their future together, their rest?

And John saw it, and misread it. "Hey, come on. Come on."

He pulled Buck outside the hut. It wasn't lights out, yet, so the goons didn't usually mind a few men loitering at the door of their huts so long as they went no further.

In the dark, in their privacy against the thin wood that made their shelter, Bucky stood up taller than Gale had seen since England and said, "Hit me. Again. I deserve it."

Oh, this old chestnut.

"Fuck you, Bucky."

John grinned to hear it. And for once it was entirely without edge. It reached his eyes and carved well-worn dimples back into his cheeks. Gale couldn't do this. He couldn't have John back in all his glory for a few fleeting moments on the high of the news of the Allied invasion, only to lose him and be back at square one when he realised how goddamn long that would take. They'd still be stuck here for months. And Gale didn't think he had that left in him when John inevitably drifted away again.

They were barely visible in the dark and John took the cover to lean in close. "Not-so Saint Cleven. I missed ya."

Gale shook. He didn't know if it was even anger anymore.

John's hands came to rest on his hips. He ducked his head like he used to do after one of Gale's more harrowing flights.

"You were right, and I was wrong, Buck. We are getting out of here. M'sorry you were left keeping that belief burning on your own. But for what's it's worth and I know I'm not worth much but I'm here now."

For now—

"—and I'm not going anywhere. We're getting out of here you and me. Alive. Like we promised."

Gale was trembling. Head to toe he trembled and it shook some of the water loose around his eyes. It shook sounds from his throat and gasps from his lungs, and John whisked him even further into the dark around the corner of the hut and Gale gripped John's greatcoat so tight he heard a stitch or two pop.

"Fuck you," he hissed wetly. "Fuck you, fuck you, John. I could have—why didn't you come back earlier? Why didn't…I could have—"

He'd thought John was gone. Dead already, but his body didn't know it yet. And Gale was weary from carrying both their corpses. But John had lied to him this whole time. Had been alive and dormant and that Gale could have killed him, could have put them to sleep in the dirt when something in John still wanted to live.

John gathered him close, or tried to, but Gale thrashed back and only let John get close enough to press their foreheads together, and only then because he felt his skin stretch and bruise with how hard John pushed against him.

"Woah, woah, Buck. It's alright. It's alright. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry—"

"I could have killed you, John." His voice shook and his throat and nose clogged, and to Gale's horror and humiliation, the tears only gained a pace and he found himself sobbing like a frightened child into John's chest. "You could have died. I could have killed you," he heaved into the coarse wool of John's coat.

"I know, I've been an asshole."

Gale clenched his fist and aimed for John's kidney and got him good before John trapped his hand. But he had another and sucker punched John's stomach and reigned hell down on his back, but John still wouldn't let him go and Gale still couldn't stop sobbing, furious and shattered in equal measure.

"Shut up. Shut up. You left me here. You left me and I couldn't fucking take it. You and me: we were supposed to be in this together and you left. I wanted us dead John. I wanted us dead. I thought you were dead and I wasn't about to let you leave me behind I—"

John squeezed him so tight he crushed all the air out of Gale's lungs. His breaths came shallow when he could drag them in between his cries which he finally let himself bury into the crook of John's shoulder. John didn't let him up for air. Didn't let him put so much as a half inch between them. Didn't let them separate.

"I'm not dead. I'm not dead," John repeated it in his ear. "And you're not dead, either. We're alive, Buck. We're alive and we're getting out of here."

Gale clutched the back of John's neck until he felt the skin get stuck under his fingernails and John hissed and jerked under him but still didn't let go.

"I don't want to be," he said thickly. "I'm so tired, John. Can't we just—I just want to lay down and die, already. I've been waiting and I can't..."

John scruffed him and shook until his teeth rattled. "Not a fuckin' choice, Major."

Gale moaned and felt thick trickles of snot drop from his nose. "It's not fair—"

"I don't give a shit. You didn't want me to leave you behind? Well you don't get to abandon me, now. You wanna die so bad? You wanna give in? I'll shoot you my damn self, then put one in my head right after. You wanna make me do that? I don't wanna die here, Buck. Too many people have tried to bury me between here and Germany and if I die here, they win. You gonna make me do it? 'Cause I will. You and me. Here or home. What's it gonna be?"

Gale had cried himself beyond wails or sobs and curses. He hiccupped his sorrow in pathetic bursts all over John.

"I hate you," he vowed into sodden, filthy wool. "I can't. I hate you."

John kissed his crown and Gale jerked his head enough to butt against John's teeth. He hoped they left a mark. "Yeah. I hate me, too. But that's not an answer."

John shoved Gale back, and he felt the cold on the smeared mess on his face. John stared him down unflinching. "Where we dyin', Buck? Here? Or back where we're supposed to be? Behind a yoke or in our beds like we fuckin' deserve?"

Gale used the sleeve of his coat to wipe away the slime and sniffed down a throatful of mucus and snot and other pathetic wetness that hadn't made it out. A glimmer of Major Cleven was able to peek back out. Gale rolled back his shoulders and set his jaw that sharp and stubborn way that made the new recruits shift in place like errant children.

And he stared right back at Bucky. His Bucky. Finally back from being AWOL.

"Don't you leave me here again. Do you hear me? Because if you do, if you go back to that, I won't watch it. I'll tell them we're spies. I'll goddamn tell them we're queer if I have to, but I'll make sure we both bite it here, Bucky. I can't do it without you anymore, so don't you fuckin' make me."

John grabbed a fistful of his hair and kissed him bruising and biting and hard. Gale's skin was still sticky. His lips cut against his teeth and Gale made sure to cut John up to match.

When they pulled back, the inside of John's lip was tinged with red. A shining streak of one of Gale's bodily fluids was infused to the strands of John's mustache. "Deal."

It had taken John getting the closest he'd ever gotten to being killed, for them to finally take the plunge.

The P-51s had fired on them, their own countrymen and allies. Only Alex Jefferson's warning had kept their losses low. But John had seen red, like he used to do at a shitty call from a higher up, or when a rookie had made a mistake that could have cost a fort and ten good men. He was all teeth and snarling froth and the Germans were unholstering their pistols, rifles already aimed and pinned on John's chest. Right at the heart.

It took four of them to pull him back.

"Look at me. Look at me! I'm in. We go tonight. Just calm down before they put a bullet in your head."

John sucked in his lips and didn't take his eyes from Gale even as he pushed off his hands. A self-enforced silence before he did something he couldn't undo.

Just a little longer, Gale pleaded with him silently. Just keep it together a little longer, darlin'.

In the night, passing through the sorry carcass of some village or old work buildings or something, George and Billy ran unseen between two buildings and cleared the wall between their column of POWs and the dark protection of the woods.

"Go on," Bucky said before Gale could. "I'll be right behind you."

You goddamn better be, he wanted to say, threaten, and make Bucky promise. But they didn't have time, and the longer he lingered, the more danger he was putting Bucky in.

So with a final look, he ran.

He couldn't hear anything, his heart hammered so loud. Was Bucky behind him? Was that footsteps he could hear?

The wall was so close, now. A few more feet and Gale could hold his arm out and touch it.

"Hey, no! Stop! Stop!"

Gale's feet, his whole damn body, lurched to a stop. Like Bucky had commanded him. He whirled around and there he was, wrestling with a German guard, drawing more and more attention, trying to get the Kraut's own gun off him.

Men had been killed for much, much less. They'd seen it.

"Go, Buck! Get out of here!"

It was the second time John lied to him.

Gale picked up his feet again, but the wall got further away. John was no slight man, even after their time in the Stalag and marching through the dead of night in the cold European winter. But the guards were better fed, better rested, and armed to boot.

And John was losing.

As the guard made to tip John over on his back and turned his gun on him, Gale barreled into him, knocking him clean off John and socking him in his sorry mouth. Hands grasped at him but they were quickly torn away, and he heard John grunting. It wasn't until his fists were bloody from breaking up the goon's teeth that Gale was finally hauled off him and thrown down into the cold dirt.

John was already there waiting for him.

Panting they drew themselves up to their knees. The Germans were screaming at them, and John looked at him with eyes that burned with betrayal.

"Why didn't you go? Buck why didn't you go?"

"You're a son of a bitch, John Egan. You and me, you said. You promised. I didn't take you for no liar, and that's twice."

John's eyes fluttered shut, just for a moment, but when he opened them they were full of the steely resolved he'd carried for weeks now.

They started this together, they'd end this together. However that came.

They sat high on their knees, eyes and chins up.

"What are you doing?!" The Colonel stared at them kneeling at the mercy of the Germans. "General! Release these men this instant!"

It got the attention of their boys from the 100th. Benny. Brady. Crank. Murph. Glenn. Even Alex and Macon and Daniels. They all raised their voices over the barking and the yelling. They pushed against the line of guards holding them back. They snarled and they screamed.

The Colonel called over it all. "You'll have a damn riot on your hands if you kill these men!"

But Gale and John, they knew what was coming. They'd been caught trying to escape. They'd fought with the guards.

They couldn't be allowed to live if their captors wanted to keep control of the line as they marched deeper into enemy territory.

The Geneva Convention didn't mean shit out here.

John reached out and took Gale's hand. Entwined their fingers and held on. Unburdened. Unashamed. Free.

Gale ran his his thumb over the callouses of John's skin. And decided he didn't want his last sight to be the arrogant sneer of an SS lackey.

He looked at John. He was already looking back.

"Here?" Gale asked him.

John shrugged and smiled that closed-lipped smile he reserved for Buck. For when he was being true. "So long as we're together."

Despite all the clamour, they heard the click of several guns being readied, and then the barrells stared them down.

Gale and John stared at each other.

The night rang out with the scream of what remained of the 100th of Stalag Luft III.

#wotahalloweenevent2024 #clegan #buck x bucky #mota #masters of the air #john egan #gale cleven #dark!gale

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missadangel · 3 hours ago

Text

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x Reader)

All Chapters List

Chapter 11: The Accusation (+18 - MDNI-Mature)

gif --- ayo-edebiri

“Ad astra per aspera”

To the stars though difficulties…

Villa…

"I need you to help me to kill Caracalla.”

You stared at Julia's face in astonishment, trying to make sense of what you just heard. Her dark brown eyes were serious, but you noticed something in her expression that you couldn't identify – it was somewhere between fear and unease.

"You came to my house to ask me to help you kill your son? Is that correct?”

“He is no longer my son. Macrinus has made him a mere plaything. He pretty much does whatever he wants. He had his relatives killed, without any hesitation. I can't let him kill Geta too. It's only a matter of time. I can't lose Geta.” She sounded upset when she mentioned him. "I lost everything to Macrinus. First he took my son, then my reputation. My own son won't listen to me, he sent me into exile, which is unacceptable." Her tearful voice suddenly turned serious. "I have no one left to go to but you which Acacius had a hand in this, of course.”

‘What are you sa-?’

"He wiped out my men in Legates. They were my last remaining stronghold. I did everything I could to keep them on my side for all those years. Did he tell you how he killed them? I'm sure he didn't, so as not to startle you."

You took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. "My husband doesn't hide anything from me. But even if he did, I'm sure he has his own reasons." You said confidently.

"Sure he has!" she said sarcastically.

She was testing the limits of your patience. "Cease talking nonsense about my husband!" You barked. "Simply say whatever you came to say then take your leave.”

"Fair enough.” She crossed her legs. “Caracalla must die before Macrinus returns to Rome. Before he appoint him as Praetorian prefect (commander of the Imperial Guard)." She took a deep breath. "I'm sure of that he will take action against my sons once he assumes command of the guards. This could potentially lead to him ascending the throne. However, if Caracalla dies, it might weaken Macrinus' position. It would be more feasible to defeat him when Geta is emperor.”

"And you needn't worry about being hidden away in the shadows, as it seems unlikely that Geta will exile you like his brother did? It sounds like you're saving yourself.” She averted her eyes which meant you were right. "But why do you need my help exactly?"

"I believe you care about Geta, don't you? He also cares for you in some way. Perhaps more than you realise.”

“There’s nothing—“

You were about to protest, but she silenced you by raising her hand. “I am his mother, so I know him well and I know you don't wish him dead too. Besides, it would be better for everyone if he rules Rome alone. So Caracalla must die as soon as possible before harms him. You're a medicus, aren't you? You could make a concoction of herbs that will kill him painlessly.”

Her words were sharp, but her gaze was unwavering, declaring that this was the path she had to take. But it was still strange that she said it so easily. It felt wrong.

"I wouldn't have come to you if I didn't have to. It's only a matter of time before he finds out, accuse me of betrayal, and send me back. This is our sole opportunity before Macrinus's return."

‘Our? There is no ‘our’, there is no we. Furthermore, it is not a decision that can be made alone. You present this as an easy solution, but I am a married woman and my husband is a Roman general. What will happen to my husband if your plan fails? Have you ever considered this?”

She rolled her eyes. “Isn't that why you should help me? Once he's dealt with my sons, Macrinus' next target is General Acacius. To get you.” You knew exactly what she meant and she realized that. "I imagine your husband feels very regretful about not taking Macrinus out that night. Because I know he won't let him get away with it.”

You swallowed hard, hating to admit that she was right. Julia smiled, seeming amused by your expression. "Oh, poor Aurelia. It must be tough to be caught between three men. Yet you are fortunate. Even if you were to become a widow one day, there'd be another man waiting for you. Since you're a Roman princess, you're worth a great deal.”

That was the last straw. You felt a rush of anger and stood up abruptly. “Get out of my house now! Leave!” You barked, pointing your finger at the courtyard door. Julia stood up, looking insolent.

“If you truly care about Geta, think about what I said.”

“I said leave!” You shouted, then pointing your finger at her. “I'm warning you, don't you ever speak ill of my husband and don't come to my house again!”

Some of the slaves rushed towards you.

“Domina!”

“Escort Lady Domna outside.” You said sharply.

Julia gave you a stern look and turned away. She raised her hand to stop the slave who was approaching her. Then she left the courtyard. You were still pretty angry and tired, which made your head spin even more. Decima put her arm around you and made you sit on the lectus (couch). She grabbed your feet and gently lifted them, helping you lie down. Norell and Tullia were keeping an eye on you from a distance, looking a bit worried. You looked them with a half smile and told them to get on with their work. You leaned your head back and closed your eyes. Decima took your hand.

"Would you like me to make you some dittany tea (cretan thyme)?" It was an herb that was usually used for relaxation. Decima was from Egypt, so she was familiar with herbal teas. Well, not as familiar as you are, of course.

You looked at her. "Not that, not if I'm..." you said quietly.

"Oh, you're right. Chamomile then?”

"Yes, that's better. Thank you my dear.”

After drinking your chamomile tea, you fell asleep in the courtyard. The slaves were mindful of your need for rest and made every effort to avoid disturbing you. Those who walked towards the courtyard did so as quietly as they could. Then Mau appeared and jumped next to you. However, you were so deeply asleep that you were unaware that she had fallen asleep on your lap. You were suddenly awakened by the sound of a sword being unsheathed and a man shouting. Mau meowed loudly, jumped out of your lap in fright and sought refuge elsewhere.

Seeing Octavius holding his sword to a man's throat who you had never seen before. Opened your eyes in surprise.

“Sir! Have mercy please!” He begged. You noticed some parchment papers and a reed pen in his hand.

You sat up on the couch. “Octavius, what is happening here?”

"My lady, this rat was attempting to draw your likeness without your permission."

You were taken aback. "Can you clarify what you mean by that?”

Decima turned to you. "This man came for the General, but we informed him that he was not present. I then assumed that he had departed. Forgive me, my lady.”

Your eyesbrows rose. “You came to draw my husband?”

The man swallowed. Octavius shook him. “Lady Aurelia asked you a question. Speak, thief!”

You warned him, “Octavius, please put that sword away and allow the man to speak.”

He obeyed. The man stood up ad bowed. “Yes, my lady. Aventine cloth dyers association are paying me to do a mural of General Acacius and the tiger he fought in the arena, my lady.”

“Explain yourself. Why would they do that?” Octavius barked.

“He’s famous, sir, the city, all the Roman citizens likes him. He’s a hero.”

You smiled, and he was indeed a hero to you. You picked up the fallen scrolls and took a moment to examine them. He had painted you so well, even the mau in your lap, which you found quite remarkable.

"But you drew me, his wife," you murmured.

"My lady, allow me to beat this insolent rat to death," Octavius hissed. The man shuddered with fear.

"Please, sir. Leave him alone," you said, a little harshly.

"My lady, forgive me. You were so beautiful when you slept that I was overcome with admiration and wanted to draw your likeness.”

You felt your cheeks flush involuntarily.

“How dare you!” Octavius roared.

“Calm yourself, sir.” You gave Octavius a warning look. You stood up and approached the man. “Please rise.”

The man stood up looking a little ashamed.

“I'll tell my husband you came by. You are well talented, I liked your drawing,” you said, showing him the parchment. “May I keep this?”

He looked at you and gave you a big, warm smile. "It's already yours, my lady. I'm really pleased you think so.

You glanced at Octavius, who seemed to be losing patience. Then you looked at the man. “You may yet leave now.”

The man bowed his head and gave you a shy look, then turned and walked out of the courtyard. Octavius accompanied him outside. You and Decima studied the painting the artist had created. She then enquired as to whether she might bring you something to eat, and with your approval, she departed. It would seem that Mau was hungry when she returned to you, as she rubbed her tail against your leg. She meowed loudly when she saw Norell approaching you a moment later with a tray in her hands.

"Where's Decima? I thought she was supposed to bring the food.

You noticed that Norell's cheeks flushed. "Well, my lady, she had some more work to do in the kitchen."

"Is she all right?"

She nodded, but her freckled cheeks were still red. You grabbed her wrist as her furtive look and tone of voice made you wonder what she was hiding. "Tell me, what's going on?"

"Um, Decima. She took food to Sir Octavius." She averted her eyes from you and smiled in a way that seemed a little evasive. You blinked in surprise and then laughed.

“Oh, well, well,” you said, amused. “When these two have become so close?"

Norell chuckled. "It has been a while now. She often speaks of him."

You giggled. "Where might they be now?"

She turned her head towards the courtyard. “Over there.”

"Perhaps we could go and take a quick look at them," you suggested, with a hint of mischief in your voice.

Norell let out a soft laugh and followed you behind. The slave at the door was about to speak to you but you silenced him by putting your index finger to your lips.

You and Norell peered out of the door, observed Octavius and Decima by the stables, talking, smiling at each other. The slave at the door looked at them from behind you and grinned too.

As you watched them from a distance you recognized a familiar feeling in the way they looked at each other, love.

"My dear Decima," you murmured, sharing her happiness.

Norell sighed deeply. "I hope that one day I will be in love too.”

You heard the other slave sigh and you both looked at him with surprise. He bowed his head shyly.

“Domina? My lady?”

All three of you were startled by Tullia's loud voice. Decima had heard it too, and when she turned her head towards you three. You blushed and hurried inside.

“Tullia! Why are you shouting?” you snapped.

��Oh, forgive me. I thought…”

You and Norell had laughed loudly running towards the other courtyard. Tullia was looking at you, a bit confused. Decima came into the courtyard and made her way towards your voices.

“My lady?” She then looked at Norell in a rather angry way.

“I didn't say anything,” she said, holding up her hands.

"Come now, why are you keeping this from me?" you smiled at her.

Decima blushed.

“You're already sooo obvious.” Norell said smugly.

“What did you say?” Decima frowned and approached her and Norell turned around to run away. They ran into the courtyard and you followed. Decima cupped water from the fountain and threw it at her. Norell also did the same. They began to soak each other, laughing together. Norell ran towards you, intending to hide, but as Decima attempted to throw water at her again, the water hit you in the face, and you flinched when you felt the cold water on your skin.

“Gods!” Tulla cried out. She ran towards you. “My lady, are you alright? Look what you've done! Cease this nonsense now!” She yelled at them.

Mau had also got her share of a soaking, licking herself like mad to dry. Decima and Norell were looking at you with guilty looks on their faces. But you, far from being angry, approached them with a serious expression and cupped the water from the fountain and threw in their faces. And a fun game began between the three of you. Tullia's grunts mixed with your laughter and echoed throughout the courtyard.

By the time the general arrived, you were still engaged in your game. Octavius was observing you at the door, perhaps not fully aware of his surroundings. Marcus heard the loud, cheerful laughter and dismounted, heading for the courtyard with curiosity. He looked where Octavius was looking and was struck by the difference between this view and the one he saw every time he returned home. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before. He was at a loss as to how to react. He smiled as he recognized your cheerful laughter. Then he looked at Octavius, who looked like he was stunned.

“What are you looking at?” he yelled.

Octavius startled with his loud voice. “Sir!”

“You may leave Octavius,” he grumbled. How dare he watch my wife? he thought. Well actually he was watching someone else but still.

You all froze when you noticed him. Decima and Norell bowed to him and made their way away from the situation as quickly as they could.

“I'll get you some dry clothes, my lady,” Tullia said and ran out of the courtyard.

How great. They all left you alone with Marcus. He regarded you with interest as he approached. The stone floor was quite wet, as were your dress. You bit your lip, uncertain of his reaction. Fortunately, a smile soon appeared on his face, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

"I must apologise for not realising your arrival."

"No need to apologise, my love. There is nothing quite like coming home and hearing your cheerful laugh, which is music to my ears."

You had a sudden sneeze. It wasn't the most romantic answer. Marcus chuckled. “My Lady. You’re all soaked."

Before long, Tullia appeared with a clean dress and the cotton cloth to drying yourself. "If I may, my lady-“

“Give that to me.” Marcus kindly took the cloth from her hand and wrapped it around you. Upon seeing your feet, you instinctively drew them back, as if to hide them. You hadn't realised how wet they were. He smiled and gently took you in his arms, which made your cheeks flush. After all, Tullia was following you behind, carrying your dry clothes in her hands.

Your hand was touching the golden-edged leather strips on his shoulder. Playing with them by running your fingers between each strip. He smiled in response. Once you had entered the room, Marcus set you down. Tullia then placed the dry clothes she had brought for you on the bed, leaving the two of you alone in the room.

"Allow me," you said as you reached for Marcus' armour, but he gently pushed your hands back.

"You first. I do love seeing you like this, but I'm afraid you might catch a chill." His eyes were roaming over your body.

You held his hands and placed them around your waist. “Maybe you could warm me up then?” You smiled naughtily.

He smirked and his hands were already undressing you with haste. Once he had removed your belt and your damp stola, his eyes lingered on the tunic that clung to your body. You were now very aware of the reason for the sudden change in his eyes. That his gentle hands would soon become more impetuous. Even before you reached for the holster on his waist, his lips found yours. His hands were trying to remove your long tunic and you were trying to remove his armour, but it was difficult. When your wet tunic fell to the floor and gathered around your feet, Marcus pushed it aside with his foot, never breaking the kiss. You couldn't tell him to take off his armour because your lips were completely captivated by his. Grabbing you by the hips, he picked you up and put you on the edge of bed. You pulled yourself back with all your might, kneeling on the bed. His armour touching your wet and naked body was a little strange, although seductive. Marcus thought you were playing a game, so he tightened his grip on your lips, not allowing you to break the kiss. But as he tried to come towards you, putting his knee on the bed, the sword at his holster hit the edge. He looked down at himself in surprise and laughed.

“I tried to tell you,” you laughed and helped him out of his armour.

“I must have been under your spell, princess.” He grinned.

Once he'd taken off his armour, Marcus grabbed you around the waist and laid you back on the bed. You couldn't believe how excited you became each time, as if it was the first time he'd ever laid you down and positioned himself on top of you. Moreover, how could it be that each touch of his lips to yours felt so different from the other? It really amazed you that such a simple touch could evoke such strong feelings. Perhaps it was the endless blending of pleasures that this strong bond between you bestowed upon you. What a treat, what a magnificent and wonderful feeling. His lips and tongue were exploring every inch of your body as your bodies fit together perfectly, and you enjoyed one pleasure after another. It felt like there was no end to the adventure of exploring each other's bodies and their needs. Every time you encountered a new sensation and a lot of pleasure. Even Marcus, who was an expert lover, found this to be true. Despite his extensive experience, he had never made love to anyone before you, not even once. It was more than a sexual fulfilment. It satisfies his soul too, as he inhales your scent, touches you, tastes you, he feels complete, he feels alive. To him, you were made for him. The moment you got into his heart, everything lost its meaning; you and all the other insignificant things. You were born into his life like the sun into a dark, war-torn, blood-stained, boring, lonely world. You brought him light and purpose. From now on, he would live to serve you, to make you happy, to protect you from all evil. With you by his side, he was more likely to put his duties for Rome second.

“Marcus,” you moaned. He bent his head and kissed your lips, where you said his name. He didn't want to hear his name from anyone else's lips; only you had to say it, the others not allowed. They couldn't say it like you anyway. It wasn't even a possibility.

“What do you wish me to do, my love?” He whispered in your ear. His lips were caressing your earlobe.

You kissed his cheek and pulled his head towards you with your hands in his hair, it was your turn to whisper in his ear. “You know already.”

He grinned, of course he knew. His big hands gripped your hips tightly, deepening his thrusts and quickening his pace. As you moaned in response, he kissed you. Not to silence you, but to feel your beautiful voice within his very own mouth. Soon together you reached the overwhelming end of your pleasure, moaning into his mouth for the one last time. You remained in that intimate position for a while, breathing heavily. Feeling each other's hearts beating against your chests under your palms. Savoring this glorious moment.

The bright sunshine streamed through the window, illuminating the room with a warm glow. The soft breeze from the balcony caressed your still damp hair, causing you to shiver slightly and pull the sheet over your shoulders. When you heard the swallows chirping, you decided to open your eyes. Marcus wasn't with you in the bed. You frowned and sat up.

“Morning my beautiful wife.”

You turned your head towards his voice. Marcus was at his desk, looking pretty busy with a quill pen and some papers.

“Morning.” You gave him a smile. “Did I sleep for too long again?”

“Just a little,” he replied turning his head back down to continue writing something on the paper. You got up and put on your tunic. However, you then felt nauseous again.

“Excuse me,” you said covering your mouth with hand. Hurried out of the room. Marcus put his quill pen down on the table and stood up. He walked out of the room and followed you into the latrina, waiting outside the door.

"Aurelia, my love. I'm rather concerned."

As you stepped out of the latrina, he put his arms around you.

“Maybe I should call for another medicus?’

"I don't think that is necessary," you said as you walked back to the room together.Marcus helped you to sit on the edge of the bed. He crouched down in front of you, his hands gently smoothing your dishevelled hair.

"You said that you might get better if you rested. However, I can see you're still not feeling well." His face showed concern.

"I'm actually feeling better today." You mumbled. It wasn't a complete lie. The nausea wasn't as bad as it had been the day before. You felt you had no complaints, knowing what was causing this feeling. Marcus lifted your chin up with his hand. You didn't want to tell him before you were certain, but he was so concerned. He needed to know.

"I sense you're hiding something from me.”

You looked at him, blinking your eyes and inhaling a deep breath. "Marcus, I, um. I wasn't sure if I should tell you until I was certain..."

He looked at you from under his eyebrows. "Continue."

You took his hands in yours and looked into his eyes. "I believe I'm with child.”

Marcus froze. His eyes widened in surprise, his pupils dilated. Then the most marvellous smile appeared on his face. He kissed your lips, and his heart overflowed with bliss. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling towards him. He buried his face between your breasts, then slid it to your belly, planting kisses along the way. You felt his lips on your belly.

"What have I done to deserve you?"

“It might be too early to say for sure. Perhaps we should wait a little longer-“

His lips found yours suddenly. He put his knee on the edge of the bed next to yours and laid you back down. You wrapped your arms around his neck. Without breaking the kiss, he settled right next to you on the bed. He put one hand on your belly.

“My beautiful Aurelia,” he purred. “I love you, with all my heart and all my soul.” His warm breath caressed your face, your heart blossomed.

“I love you, Marcus. I love you much more than words can ever say.” You touched his cheek with your fingers. “I hope that I am carrying your child.”

“Our child.” he corrected you.

You smiled. “Our child,” you repeated.

He kissed you again, your heart beat with bliss, which soon turns into desire. “I shall spend all my days with you." He said huskily as his hands lifted up the hem of your tunic. “I shall spend all my time making love to you, over and over until our bodies become one.” His lips found yours again and soon turned into a hungry, lustful kiss. As he slid into your shaking body, and you moaned with exultation. This was love. This was blessing. Elysium on Earth.

Over the next few days, you tried a series of tests to find out whether you were carrying a child or not.One of the tests was a common one in Rome and Egypt. All you had to do was urinate in two different bags; one filled with barley and the other with wheat. If the grain in either bag sprouted after being peed on, it meant the woman was definitely with child.As it turned out, they were right. You saw the barley sprouting within a few days, and the wheat took a little longer. Decima said that meant you were carrying a boy. That's how you felt, they said it was a maternal instinct. You never thought of yourself as a mother, at least not this early. But it was indescribable happiness. Marcus was treating you with more tenderness than ever. You were delighted to be the cause of this amazing man having such wonderful feelings. It was a pleasure to see him so cheerful, and the others in the villa were equally pleased to share in his joy.

During this time, Marcus had been closely involved in the training of the soldiers at the Campus Martius (Fields of Mars) just outside the city. Macrinus had been absent for over a week and it was to be expected that he would soon reach Libya. As the general of the army, it was his duty to be prepared for any eventuality and to train his troops accordingly. No matter how busy he was, no matter how late he came home at night, at the end of the day, you found him in bed snuggled between your breasts and legs. You never complained as you wanted him so much as ever thanks to changes of your body that had led to heightened sexual desire.

That morning, when you were helping Marcus put on his armour, you mentioned Julia. It seems she was pretty desperate, even talking to him about Caracalla too.

"Geta is keeping her hidden," Marcus said as he checked the strings on his armbands, "It's likely that Caracalla will eventually find her. She may have a point about Caracalla being prepared to assign Macrinus as Praetorian prefect. However, he will need to return to accept it. I must finish him before he arrives in Rome." He said with determination.

"I suppose he will return soon, then?”

"He must be. I'm waiting for the messenger pigeon to come back. If the legion commander in Libya confirms he's arrived, I'll make the necessary preparations."

You swallowed, feeling concerned by the fact that he was about to fight Macrinus again. Marcus took your face in his hands.

"Please, do not be concerned, my lady. I gave you my word that you won't lose me."

You nodded. "You do what you need to do, my love."

"I will. For you." He put his hand on your belly. "For our child. I will do whatever it takes to make sure he grows up in a safe Rome, and with other Roman children.”

“I am certain you will.” You embraced him and rested your head on his chest, running your fingers through the contours of the medusa.

“Speaking of children,” Marcus said. You lifted your head to look at him.

“Hmm?”

“All the kids at the Poorhouse and the people there.” He murmured.

“I haven't been to visit them in ages. What about them?”

"You don't have to go. Please don't tire yourself out. I want you to stay here and get some rest. Besides, It seems that Geta is already looking after them in your absence."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. “Really?”

"Yes, that does astonish me too. I find it unusual that he would spend his coins on something like that."

"He said he would, but I must admit I didn't expect him to keep his promise."

"You might be right about him. Maybe he could be a better emperor.’ You sensed the sincerity of his tone. "However, I tend to agree with Julia about Caracalla." He said, his face suddenly serious. "Every moment he breathes is detrimental to Rome.”

"Julia almost begged me to poison him."

He was checking his sword carefully. "No, that's treacherous. Even for him. He is an emperor, after all. It must be done honorably."

You felt tense. Or was he planning to act soon? He never mentioned it though.

He put his sword in its holster. "Enough politics, I think." He smiled. "I must take my leave now, my lady.”

For some reason, you felt a sudden sense of unease. "Will you be on duty at the Field of Mars today too?"

"That's correct," he replied after adjusting his armour for the last time. "Please don't engage in any risky things during my absence." He said in a commanding tone.

“I'll be making herbal tea, too dangerous,” you said mockingly.

He gave a little laugh and kissed your temple before leaving the room. As you followed him outside, you realised that the uneasy feeling inside you was getting worse. Maybe it was an unnecessary consequence of your new situation: worrying too much about everything. Marcus looked back at you one last time before heading out. You gave him a smile and then he left.

You made your way downstairs to the girls. You had little chat while they were engaged in weaving the carpet. There wasn't much else to do for the rest of the day, except lie down and rest. You visited Unio to feed her and brush her pearly-white mane with your fingers. Marcus had forbidden you to ride, not until the birth. He'd also told you not to go to the poorhouse, and you'd had to obey him on that one too. In the last few days you had become a little better with your knife and Marcus had admired you for it for the first time. But your overly anxious husband didn't want you to pick it up for a while either. Why did carrying a child have to be so boring?

In the evening, you were feeding Mau. Then you heard footsteps approaching from the courtyard.

"Domina!" The slave boy came running to you. He had that look on his face again, hesitation.

"What is it now?"

"The Emperor." He mumbled.

"Sister!"

You were quite taken aback to see Geta appear out of nowhere. He approached you and embraced you while you stared at him with your mouth hanging open.

“What are you doing here?”

Geta made a face. "Is this the manner in which you choose to greet me?"

"Well, apologies. I am simply astonished."

Geta looked around. "So this is your little house.”

You walked towards courtyard together. "Please have a seat, your majesty," you said, gesturing to him.

All eyes in the villa were on your emperor half-brother, who was seated comfortably on the armchair wearing a crown on his head and an overly flamboyant toga. You requested that the slaves bring you wine and fruit. Geta examined the wine glass and took a sip. As you observed him sitting where his mother had sat days ago, you came to recognise the differences between him and her. They were nothing alike. You were surprised that you had never realised this until now.

"It's been almost weeks, I've missed you a lot." He said suddenly. "How are you feeling now?" He looked you up and down.

"I feel better now, thank you." Your hands involuntarily went to your belly. You were unsure whether you should tell him or not. He was so unpredictable that it was difficult to guess the outcome of saying something like this to him. Perhaps it would be best to wait until your belly gets bigger before sharing.

"My mother," he suddenly said in a serious tone. You looked at him. "She's been here. I know what she told you.”

“You do?”

"As she gets older, her behaviour is getting worse. Don't take her seriously."

"Do you think so? What she said to me is something that should be taken seriously."

"You're right, it's horrible. Caracalla really has gone mad, but her intention of killing him... It's simply not right.”

"Is there something new about his madness?"

"Apart from the fact that became Macrinus' plaything? Well, he won't take me to any meetings anymore. He's got a new toy.”

“How you mean?”

"Macrinus' new right-hand man. He's like his shadow, taking care of things while he's away. I've never met him before, but my brother has already assigned him to the important tasks. I hadn't even been informed about it. Can you believe it?"

You thought about what Marcus said to you about Macrinus' spy. "Could he perhaps be one of the legates?"

"No, he's just come from the north. I don't think anyone knows him, not even the general, your husband."

"If Macrinus hid him like Gaius, I don't think he meant well."

"That's what I thought. You're clever, sister. I've missed talking to you. But not politically, of course." He grinned.

You smiled back. "You're helping your mother to hide from Caracalla, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am." He snapped, playing with his glass.

"What if he finds out?"

He shrugged. "That prick sent her without asking me, anyway." Suddenly Geta put his glass on the table and leaned towards you. "Aurelia, he's really out of control. I know Caracalla, always was, but this time it's different. He's hallucinating, dreaming, and that worries me. I know he'll hurt someone else, if not himself. Last time he nearly got me killed, all because of a stupid dream he had."

"Did you say hallucinations?”

He nodded. "I'm certain it's her. Mother. She did this to him. I gave her a clear warning, but she refused to listen. I'm asking you because you're the expert. Is it possible for a herb to have such an effect?"

“Many kinds of plants can do that. But how could Lady Domna possibly poison him?"

"Not directly of course. My slave caught her talking to another slave in the street. She is not aware, but I know everything.” He exhaled deeply. “She should never have come back, she'll get herself killed."

It was something that would endanger not only herself, but everyone including his own son Geta. How could she be so irresponsible? She must be mad for sure just like her son.

"If its on his drink or food, if I can examine it maybe I can help.”

Geta smiled smugly. “That's why I came here.”

He gestured to one of his slaves who was holding a small wooden box. Geta reached the box, opened and took out a vial filled with red liquid and handed it to you.

"Here. This is a sample of the wine he drank yesterday. Will that be enough?"

You took it, uncorked it and sniffed. As you were already highly sensitive to smells, this one smelled completely wrong.

"Yes, I think this would be enough. Let me observe this first.”

"You do that. I must return now. I don't want him to realize I left the palace and came here. He's rather mad and unpredictable more than ever." He stood up and put his hands on your shoulders. "If you happen to find out what it is, send me word. I'll send one of the slaves here. It seems that I can no longer trust my own guards. He is about to place them all under the control of Macrinus' rat."

You nodded. "I will see what I can do, brother."

Suddenly he leaned in, wrapping his arms around you. You tried to pull back, but it was futile.

“Geta,” you hissed. “You should not touch me like this. Please-“

“What's wrong with embracing my sister?” he said arrogantly.

You couldn't help but feel that he was right, but it still felt a little awkward. He laughed at the look on your face and leaned his head down to kiss your cheek. "Take care of yourself, sister. Hope I'll see you soon," he said, with a wink, and left the courtyard with his slaves following him behind.

Campus Martius. (Field of Mars).

General Acacius arrived there after completing his other duties at the barracks. The layout of this place is reminiscent of an army camp, with a number of small buildings.

“Attention! The general is here!” Octavius barked at the soldiers. They immediately stood at attention.

Acacius' eyes were fixed on the recruits. Some of them were pretty clumsy. He jumped down from his horse, squinting at them.

"Chin up! Chest out! Shoulders back! Suck your stomach in!” Octavius commanded, touching their shoulders to ensure they were doing it right. Then he ran to Acacius' side as he approached them. "Sir!" he nodded to him.

"Sir Octavius, these soldiers are struggling to get in line properly! This is how you train them?” he yelled at him.

That's what being a Roman General entailed, after all. Keeping an eye on the rookies and their commanders, supervising his second-in-command, training all the soldiers to keep the army ready for anything, constantly meeting with the Legates to assess the situation. Keeping track of the legions abroad was undoubtedly the hardest task. The army pigeon was the most efficient way to communicate. A trained pigeon could deliver a message in two or three days, whereas a soldier would take months to do the same.

He looked the soldiers in the face as he passed, tapping some on the shoulder to make sure they were properly in line. The soldiers saluted him by putting their hands on their chests. Some of them looked nervous.

“At ease!” Marcus shouted and the soldiers got into a relaxed position to continue their training.

Octavius walked with him towards the building where the Genaral's room was located. Cato was there, waiting for him outside his room. He saluted him.

“Cato, why you are not with the recruits?’’

"Sir, I wanted to let you know that the pigeon has arrived. I have placed it in its cage and I am waiting here to ensure its safety." He said it in a very serious manner.

Octavius chuckled. Marcus grinned.

“Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” Marcus asked him. They were both looking at Cato.

“I believe this prick using the bird as an excuse to avoid training.”

Cato opened his eyes wide. “Never, sir!”

"Who gave you permisson to talk back?" Marcus shouted at him. "Now get out of my sight before I train you myself!"

“Yes, sir!”

Marcus and Octavius laughed after he hurriedly picked up his sword and rushed out. "This boy is really...” He murmured.

"He's been working really hard lately," Octavius said, opened the door and waited for Marcus to enter.

“Do you believe so?” He entered the room and sitting down in his chair and putting his sword on the desk.

"I think he's ready for the platoon training. If you agree.”

Marcus opened the lid of the cage and took the small sealed paper tied to the pigeon's foot. "I still don't think he's ready. He must to learn to overcome his hesitation first." The seal belonged to the Eighth Legion. It was stationed in Leptis Magna, a likely place for Macrinus to visit. Marcus lifted the seal and opened the thin paper.

“My dear friend, the esteemed General Acacius. I Caius Drusus commander of eighth legion, salute you! I have dispatched my men to the harbour of Alexandria as you ordered, however both ships that came from Rome brought only armoury and provisions. Sir Macrinus or his men were not among those who disembarked. Also, we have received word of a few men gathering in the Syrian sector, which may be in line with your suspicions. We await your orders. Rome Victrix!”

Marcus crumpled the paper in his fist and squeezed it. Octavius figured it was bad news.

“Sir? What does it say?”

Marcus slammed his hand down hard on the desk, his whole body filled with anger. “Damn you Macrinus!”

Marcus found himself somewhat perplexed. He was certain that Macrinus was on his way to Ostia and that the ship was waiting for him there. But why hadn't he been seen in the harbour? Octavius picked up the paper he had crumpled up and read it with curiosity.

“How can this be?" He put his hands on the desk and looked at him. Or maybe he never actually left? Did he play a trick on us?"

Marcus was mulling it over. Why would he do that? What was he trying to act? He was such a clever enemy that he never gave away his trail. For Marcus, fighting was simple. It was easy to move your sword according to your enemies movement and cut him down. But playing mind games was tough. It was exhausting to think like your enemy, to anticipate his next move, to always try to be one step ahead of him. Especially when the enemy was someone who had the emperor in the palm of his hand. Could he be seeking retaliation? Or had he never left Rome? Marcus exhaled nervously.

“Octavius, I want you to place two men outside the villa.” He ordered, turning to him. “Is Felix still on Palatine Hill?”

"Yes, sir. He's positioned there as you ordered." He'll let me know if anything arises.

Marcus put his hand to his face, closed his eyes and sighed again. “We're missing something, Octavius.”

“What could it be, sir?”

“I'm not certain yet. But I'll find out. Make sure all the men are gathered in our usual place tomorrow night, in incognito. We shall talk over. Now leave me alone.”

“Yes sir,” he said and left the room.

Villa…

You had been studying the wine residue that Geta had brought you for most of the day, with the help of Decima and Norell. Despite making a few mistakes and experiencing a few setbacks, you eventually managed to identify the substance as the fruit of the Red Shanglu plant (Phytolacca acinosa). Given its red colour, it was a logical that it would blend well with wine.

“Why doesn't it kill him immediately?” Decima asked. She shook the vial in her hand.

"It's not a particularly poisonous plant. Or maybe the person who made it is inexperienced with it. However, even the smallest amount could cause brain damage. That's more dangerous than death,” you muttered.”

“What kind of fruit is this? Can we find it around here?” Norell asked.

“No, unfortunately not. It's probably a fruit from China or somewhere nearby.”

“Didn't the Empress come here from Syria?” Decima asked.

“Damascus is frequented by Chinese traders, couldn't she have brought it from there?”

“That is true.” When you were in Egypt,your uncle had purchased a number of plants from traders who came from Damascus to Alexandria. This was not an auspicious sign. It would be very difficult to create an antidote without the plant itself.

“So what are you going to do?” Norell asked.

“I need to to speak with Geta. I must inform him of this."

“But the soldiers outside, won't let you.” Decima murmured.

Right. Two of Marcus's men arrived at noon for some reason. You were certain that if you went with them to Geta, there would be tension between those two again. Moreover, it was already dark, and he must be on his way back.

You opened your small leather notebook to review the notes you had taken earlier and consulted the description of this plant. From what you can gather from your notes, it seems that reversing it is not an option. However, there was another fruit that could potentially help to mitigate and cure it. Acorus gramineus (commonly known as Japanese sweet flag). Of course. How you didn’t think of that? You recalled your Uncle Vicius with respect and found that his teachings had proved useful to you in your life. You promptly rose to your feet and took a moment to survey the shelves. This plant is a common genus used in Rome and other regions. You attempted to reach for the jar at the top of the shelves, but it was out of reach. You rose on tiptoe and reached as far as you could. Before Decima had a chance to get up and come over to help, another hand suddenly appeared and grasped the jar.

"I did warn you not to do anything dangerous, didn't I?” Suddenly Marcus appeared next to you.

You looked at him in surprise. When had he arrived? The girls greeted him and left the room. "Jars are now a source of danger to you, General?" You teased, took the jar from his hand and put it on the table.

Marcus smiled and approached you, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He planted a tender kiss on your hair and breathed you in, finding your ear. “I missed you.” Then he kissed your cheeks, your nose and your forehead, making you giggle. Then he turned you to him and kissed you on the lips before you could even open your mouth to answer.

“I missed you too, my handsome husband.”

He chuckled and looked at the vials, herbs on the table. "It looks like you had as busy a day as I did.”

You took a deep breath. “I guess I did."

He put a hand under your chin and turned your head towards him. His eyes were already filled with curiosity. "Something has happened. Tell me."

You put your hands on his shoulders. "Geta was here."

He raised his eyebrows. "Your Emperor half-brother Geta?”

“I know no other Geta,” you laughed. But he didn’t.

““What did he want? Why did he come?” He asked in a rather stern tone. Just hearing his name was enough to make him angry. You place your hands on either side of his face. It had an instant calming effect on him, his expression softened immediately.

“You've just arrived, my love, you must be tired. We can talk while we eat."

You picked up a jar of jasmine from one of the shelves.

"I'll put it in our room, it smells nice and has a calming effect."

Marcus put the jar back and grasped your wrist. "There's no need, my love. Your smell is much nicer, and it's the only thing that can calm me down." He led you out of the room.

Once you had entered the courtyard, you requested that Tullia bring the food and walked to your room. Before heading for the stairs, Marcus stopped when he noticed Octavius and Decima talking.

“Why is he still here?”

You chuckled. He looked at you with questioning eyes. You grabbed his muscular arm. It was your turn to tug. “Come now, leave them be.”

“I now understand why he has been distracted lately.” He grunted as he climbed the stairs with you.

“Please don't be angry with him."

“I'm not. But I need to talk to him later.” He said after entering the room.

Your food was brought into the room while you helped Marcus take off his armor. As usual, Marcus sat you on his lap while eating.

"You know, I'm not sure if I'll be able to fit on your lap when my belly gets so big," you said as he fed you a grape.

“Nonsense. There's plenty of room for both of you on my lap," he said, opening his arms. You tilted your head to the side and snuggled into his chest. "As a matter of fact, I can hold three, four, five, or even more," he added, eating his food. You lifted your head to look at his face. "What are you going to do with so many children, General?" you asked, opening your eyes wide.

“I'm going to raise my own army,” he said, laughing.

You laughed too. “Since you are so lascivious husband, it is quite possible.”

“Is it just me? You are too, my sweet wife.”

Your cheeks flushed. “You made me,” you touched his shoulder with yours.

He bent his head and kissed your shoulder. “Pleasure is all mine, my lady.”

“Well, I didn't say I was grateful.” You teased.

As soon as you said that, he looked at you differently. You locked eyes. The atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted. You were well aware of why his eyes had changed. "Then I'll take you in such a way that you'll be eternally grateful." He bent down and kissed you passionately on the lips. His kiss became more intense as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He put his hands in your hair and drank so deeply from your mouth that you almost forgot how to breathe. But you wanted so desperately that you never wanted him to stop. Even more so now, you wanted him more than you ever had, and he seemed to be quite pleased about it. Marcus helped you lie back against his arm. He pulled the hem of your tunic up your legs and pulled you back onto his lap. As he slid the straps of the tunic down your shoulders, you could feel him getting impatient under your hips. When his lips slid to your neck, you threw your head back to gasp for air. But then you gasped again as he started to play with your already very sensitive breasts. Just the touch of his warm tongue made you feel like it was going to send you over the edge.

“Hmm your breasts are so responsive than ever my love."

You were sure your cheeks were redder than wine. “It's simply expecting for this phase,” you said breathlessly. Your impatient fingers ran through his hair. You were eager for him to take you now.

“It only adds to your beauty. You are so beautiful to be real,” he said huskily. You kissed his neck in response. He grabbed you by the hips, lifted you up and laid you on the bed. Soon he was on top of you. You wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him to you. Or rather, you tried. He chuckled. “You are very impatient for someone who is not grateful, princess?”

You sighed. “I apologise, I shouldn't have said that. I'm so grateful, please, Marcus.” You squirmed desperately. It was one of your lustful husband's favorite moments. “Please what, my love?” He put his knee between your legs as slowly as he could.

"I want you," you purred.

His lips were on your earlobe, and the feel of his hot breath on your neck made you shudder.

"You want me where?" He teased. His fingers caressed your nipples, his glorious length brushing against your entrance which driving you mad.

"I want you inside me, please," you whimpered.

He smiled wide, like he won a victory. “I shall fulfill my princess’ desire.” And there he was, right where you wanted him most. You felt like you were going to explode with happiness and break into little pieces. You felt proud of yourself for making progress and getting to this point. Now you both knew each other's bodies and desires well. It was a progress you didn't expect from yourself, and it wasn't difficult at all. Everything was easier with him. Desiring him, kissing him, feeling his skin under your fingers – it was like a need for life. You needed him. You needed him inside you, on your skin, in the air you breathed, everywhere. With him, everything was beautiful and complete. Without him, everything was missing and lost. With him, you felt alive.

"I'm afraid I may be a little late tonight,” Marcus said as you tied the strings on his armbands. ”You'll keep your promise, won't you?”

Oh yes, your promise to him. After a lengthy discussion, he agreed to your proposal of preparing the herbal mixture for Caracalla, but he would prefer you to remain at the villa for the time being.

“I've positioned one of my men near Palatine Hill. One of the soldiers waiting outside will deliver it to him. So there's no need for you to go there," he said in a commanding tone.

You nodded. “I shall do whatever my husband says.”

A broad smile spread across his face. He wrapped his arms around you. “Say it again.”

You giggled. “I'll do whatever my husband says.”

“My ears have been blessed.” He pulled you to him and kissed you on the lips. He then sighed breaking the kiss. “I'm afraid I must take my leave now.”

“I know you'll come back to me eventually, so it will be easier to await for your arrival.”

He took your face in his hands. "You will wait my return, then, my lady?"

Of course you will, why did he ask such a question?

“I have waited a long time for you, Aurelia,” he said in his velvet voice. His expression was severe, the brown of his eyes warm, intense. “How could I not come back to you?” He kissed you on the temple. He grabbed a few strands of your hair, burried his nose in them inhaling your scent. You rose on tiptoes and kissed him with all the warmth of a woman in love. And he returned your kiss with all the joy and happiness of a man in love. If only Cato hadn't knocked on the door at that moment, you might have stayed there till night.

Once Marcus had left, you went downstairs to your little clinic-like room to make the herbal mixture. With the help of the girls, you managed to do it in less time than you expected. You did as Marcus told you and handed a vial of the mixture to one of the soldiers who were positioned outside the villa. He mounted his horse and headed to Palatine Hill.

As you sat with the girls until the evening, you found yourself feeling that strange sense of unease you had yesterday. It was just like that dream you had a few weeks ago. No matter how hard you tried to ignore it, you couldn't. And it didn't seem to go away until Marcus came back.

It was just after midnight and you were lying in bed playing with your wedding ring. Mau was sleeping peacefully next to you. But unlike him, you were far away, feeling peaceful. You couldn't sleep without seeing him return to you. Soon, however, you heard some horses neighing and murmuring, and your body filled with excitement. You quickly got out of bed. You wrapped your shawl around yourself and left the room, heading for the stairs. But you were halfway up the stairs when you saw the face of a man you didn't know. If you hadn't been holding on to the railing, you would have stumbled. One of the slaves stepped in front of the man, but he pushed him hard. From his clothes, it was clear he was one of the imperial guards. They usually kept their galea on, but not this man. At his command, five or six more soldiers entered the courtyard and all of them stood at attention. They were all dressed like imperial guards. You were wide-eyed, trying to understand what is happening, Decima ran up to you and held your hands nervously. Everyone in the villa woke up to the sounds and rushed to your side.

“You must be Princess Aurelia,” the man said, nodding then smiling weirdly at you. His eyes lingered too long on your body. You felt uncomfortable with the way he looked at you. You pulled your shawl tighter around your body. "Who do you think you are? I will not tolerate you entering my house at this time of night like a raider. I want to know who you are! Speak!"

The man laughed arrogantly. "My name is Flavius, my lady. You do not know me, but your husband does." He took a few steps towards you. "However, even if it's a very tempting idea, I am not here because of Acacius. As for your question, I am here by the command of your brother, the Emperor Caracalla. I shall take you to him."

You were both confused and afraid. "At this time of night? What is so urgent?"

"Oh, true. I forgot to mention the charges against you, forgive me." He smirked, gesturing to one of his men.

The man unfolded the scroll paper to read it aloud. "Princess Aurelia, you are under arrest by the command of the emperor. Your charges are; attempting poisoning of the Emperor himself, conspiracy behind his back, and aiding and abetting the exiled empress."

You swallowed, your heart pounding fast. It seemed likely that the ointment you had sent to Geta must have fallen into Caracalla's hands somehow. "I don't accept these charges! There must be a misunderstanding." you said.

"It doesn't really matter, my lady, I have been instructed to take you to Palatine Hill. And I will." The man came close enough to reach for your arm, but you stepped back.

"Lady Aurelia is the wife of General Acacius and also a princess. When the general returns home, they will go together to the emperor. Perhaps it would be inadvisable to take her by force, sir Flavius?” Tullia said firmly.

They knew each other? You wondered who he was.

”I remember you now. You stood up to me like this back then too. You may have aged but you're still stupid. Get out of my way at once!” Flavius barked.

Wiht Tullia's lead, the slaves and girls moving in front of you as if shielding you. The man sighed and drew his sword.

“No!” you cried.

“The Emperor's orders are final! Get out of my way or I will slay you all with my sword!”

“Do as he says!” You warned them, your voice trembling with fear. They regarded you with an uncertain expression.You held Tullia's hands. "Please, I don't want you to get hurt. I will be fine, I promise."

Then they bowed their heads and, with visible reluctance, withdrewing involuntarily.

You looked at him. “I should dress properly, first,” you said and headed for the room.

“I'm waiting, princess!” He said arrogantly.

How dare he talks to a princess like that? As soon as you walked in the room, immediately grabbed your scabbard and tied it around your ankle. You had to be prepared for anything. You put your hands on your belly, hoping everything would be fine. You put on your stola, look around the room one last time, opened the door and went out. Walked down the stairs, looking at the slaves who looked at you with concern. They were your friends, your family. You smiled at them reassuringly. The man named Flavius held out his hand to you. "My lady.”

You stepped towards outside, choosing to ignore him. Suddenly, you noticed Marcus' soldiers, who were brought to their knees with swords held at their throats by guards. "Put your swords away!" you barked them. But they looked at their commander. Flavius nodded. The men drew back their swords and sheathed them.

"General Acacius has entrusted us with the Lady Aurelia," one of the soldiers said. "We must accompany her.”

Flavius turned to him. "So that's what your General told you, eh? What if I don't let you then?"

The soldier looked at him sharply and drew his sword halfway, the sharp sound of the blade making you tense. "Then we'll have to stop you."

"No, please," you interrupted. You stopped the soldiers by raising your hands.

"My lady, please step aside. The general's orders are certain, and if we die for him, it would be an honour to do so."

Flavius laughed cruelly. “We must give him what he wants then!” He ordered to his soldiers and they all drew their swords once more. You were worried because they were outnumbered. Despite all of your objections, they began to fight. Flavius took hold of your arm and led you towards the carriage.

“Get your hands off me!” You struggled, but he was so strong. "Don't you hear me? I am your princess! You can't touch me!" You shouted at the top of your lungs but it was in vain. He made sure you were seated in the carriage and turned round. After his men killed Marcus' soldiers they mounted their horses at his command. Soon the carriage moved to take you to Palatine Hill. You couldn't stop your tears and sobs as you looked at the soldiers lying lifeless on the ground.

Marcus, where are you? you murmured as you gazed out the window, surveying the dark and gloomy streets.

A place just outside the city…

Marcus and Octavius are waiting in one of the dark streets, which is meant to be a secret meeting place. They're both wearing black cloaks. He had stationed a few of his men at key points in the city to be ready for any move Macrinus might make, and every now and then they hold a small, secret meeting in this gathering place. Secrecy was very important. It had to be late at night because it was an important matter that was only between them. But tonight there was something odd. None of his men showed up. They should have been here by now. Octavius looked down the road but didn't see anyone. They decided to wait a bit more, soon they heard footsteps coming closer. It was one of Marcus's men.

“General! Sir!” The man was out of breath. “Guards. Macrinus.”

Marcus touched his shoulder. “Easy. Breathe.” He told him. “Speak clearly. Why are you on your own?"

"Speak, Aris, what has happened?" Octavius growled.

"The imperial guards arrested all of our men and took them to Palatine Hill."

"On what grounds? What did they say?"

"Have you seen Macrinus there?" Marcus asked.

He shook his head. Suddenly there was the sound of number of horses approaching towards them and they all tensed up.

"You were followed, you fool!" Octavius hissed.

Guards quickly surrounded and circled around them. One of them looked at Marcus. It was Flavius. “Acacius, It's been too long. Strange night, isn't it?” He jumped down from his horse. Marcus looked at him, astonished.

“Flavius?” He looked him up and down. He recognised his rank by his attire. “So you've been appointed commander of the guards? I thought you were up north.”

So he was the Macrinus' shadow man. He knew exactly what he was doing, Marcus thought.

“I returned a while ago,” he took a step closer to him. “Since I have unfinished business here. With you.” His voice sharpened.

Marcus remained still.

“You killed my brother, remember? You took him from me. And for what? For screwing your wife when you're in the south?”

Marcus clenched his fists. His body was filled with rage. He was dangerously on the edge.

"I've been looking forward to this moment for quite some time, Acacius. I have been waiting for the right moment to take what you have from you when you feel happy.”

Marcus grasped hilt of his sword. Octavius and Aris were ready, waiting for his command.

"So Macrinus made you his commander? Is this how you plan to get revenge on me?"

"He's a very clever man, I'll give him that. And he's determined to finish you, though not as determined as I am." He grinned.

"Right, so how do we do it? One on one? You and I?" Marcus drew his sword to half-length.

Flavius laughed. "You've already lost, Acacius, why should I bother?" He gestured for his man to read the emperor's order. The man unfolded the roll of paper. "General Marcus Acacius! You are under arrest by order of Emperor Caracalla! Your charges are; placing men in front of the emperor's house to spy on him, to command the armies for your own benefit, attempting to murder a member of the senate, abusing the title of general, going behind the emperor's back.”

"Right," said Flavius, coming over to him. He held his gaze. “The Emperor wants to see you. He'll be the one to decide your fate.” He approached him. “Just as he will decide your wife's fate.” He grinned with his teeth.

Marcus grabbed his throat with both hands. “What did you just say?”

The guards half-drew their swords and took up attack positions. Octavius and Aris gripped the hilt of their swords in response.

"Speak, or I'll rip your neck off!" he roared, his fingers gripping his throat tighter. Flavius seemed amused.

"Your wife, Aurelia, is a beautiful woman. I took her from the villa to Palatine Hill. I told you it was a strange night.”

Marcus punched him in the face and kicked him in the stomach, mad him fell to the ground. He then quickly drew his sword. In a flash he leapt on him and held his sharp sword to his neck. “If you say her name again, I'll cut your tongue off!” He barked. “Why did you take her there? Speak, damn you!” He was boiling with anger.

Flavius, however seemed calm. “Don’t be a fool, Acacius, if you kill me now, you'll get nothing. I'm only doing my duty.”

Unfortunately it was true, he could kill him and all the guards one by one, but that would only result in a higher charge being brought against him. Furthermore, Marcus's primary concern was you. He had to make sure you were alright, which meant he had to go to Palatine Hill with them.

Flavius ignored sharp sword pressing against his throat, laughing cruelly at him. “Revenge is a son of a whore, isn't it?”

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alex-thegiraffeboyy · 2 days ago

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Chapter 3: Misty

Summary: You and Vi got a fight, they try to figure things out.

Words: 2.3K

Bewitched Masterlits

Enjoy it, because I loved writing it 😿💕

A job had recently come up. And from what Vi had told you it was THE job.

You weren't surprised where the information came from, but that didn't imply that you weren't angry with Ekko. You had asked him multiple times to stop following clients that came from uppercity, that someday he was going to get in trouble for following them, but he didn't seem to want to listen to you. But, in this case, it wasn't Ekko who worried you the most, but Vi, who was the one who was the most convinced about going to the house to get sophisticated materials and sell them. There was only one problem.

You didn't agree.

And as much as it weighed on Vi, she knew she couldn't do that mission without you. By constantly working hand in hand with Benzo you had learned a few tricks. You had an eye for recognizing valuable artifacts. You could recognize junk worth no more than a nickel next to junk worth a hundred gold coins. You could recognize dangerous artifacts and warn them about it. Vi knows she could do it alone with her brothers, but she knows it could be a thousand times better if you went with them. And this was an opportunity they had to make the most of.

But you definitely didn't want to be a part of it. Although after a few hours of back-and-forth between the two of you, you finally gave in a little, and asked her for time to think about it. So Vi gave you time.

And for a few days things went on as usual, except that things between you and Vi were a little... tense. None of her brothers knew what had happened, they just knew it had something to do with the argument they had had over the job with the Piltover house. And it's just that in that fight things got out of control and they said some things they didn't mean in the heat of the moment. Especially Vi.

At some point in the conversation the butterflies that always accompanied her had turned into wasps that flew at full speed towards her with the intention of harming her in order to defend what she believed was right (not that you didn't have your own wasps, you just tried to contain them as much as you could -even if it meant letting them hurt you-). But once things calmed down, once you got your head on straight and your feet on the ground, regret began to eat you alive from the inside out. Shame became a second skin between you, filling you with discomfort and nerves.

They purposely stopped looking for each other over the days, but the universe, as if it wanted to help them, made them meet again and again. One time Benzo would ask you to bring something to Vander for the bar and as soon as you set foot inside you would spot the blue and pink hair in front of the bar sipping a juice while they talked to Vander. Your throat would close up and anxiety would fill your system. Did you have to talk to her? What would you say? Would she be angry or would she forget? What if she didn't want to see you? What if...? But you put that aside, took a big breath and walked towards them.

Vander greets you with a smile and Vi can't help but freeze in place, her gaze remains stoic, but her thoughts become restless, having the same questions as you. She doesn't dare move as soon as you reach the bar to deliver what you had been ordered. She hears you wave to Powder as you try to dodge the conversations. As you avoid staying any longer. You sound rushed and somewhat nervous, and something about that makes Vi's heart squeeze painfully in her chest. You was never in a hurry to leave. Normally you'd stay a while to chat and let Vander pour you a glass of juice before you remembered you had things to do.

Look at me. Vi wants to say, but the words feel ironic in her head when she can feel your gaze on her at times. The one who doesn't have the strength to see you is her. She feels just as helpless as she did when she was a child and couldn't get her stuffed animal down from between the wires.

She hears you leave the bar and the next thing she feels are the stares of her sister and foster father on her.

"What happened between you and Sunny?" Powder dares to ask, looking at her with those big, curious eyes that characterize her. Vi doesn't turn to look at her, resigned to finishing her drink with a tense face.

"Vi?..." Vander asks softly as he notices that the girl didn't respond. She seemed distant. Distant to all his words.

"It's nothing" And with that she rose from her seat and left the bar for his room.

She felt like she was clinging to a cloud. And she couldn't understand why it caused her so much anguish. Why she couldn't get up the courage to talk to her. To apologize to her. Her head felt weird.

Misty.

So they spend a few days avoiding each other. Awkward glances, nervous hands. And no matter how much everyone asks, they keep avoiding the subject.

And you miss each other. But you don't know how to tell each other.

So her brothers decide to intervene. Well, Powder and Ekko.

On the one hand Powder has been watching her sister. She knows she's sad and that's why she sits alone on the roof during sunset lately (since she usually watched them with you). On the other hand, Ekko knows that you try to avoid that. He knows that you and Benzo have a silent agreement about letting you off for a few hours between afternoon and evening so you can be with Vi, but since you've both been avoiding each other recently, you usually stay a little longer in the store to clean up. So they plan everything to perfection. And one afternoon, Ekko starts with the plan they've been doing.

He sees you halfway across the tent, cleaning a pair of binoculars as you sway gently, humming a song under your breath, your back to him. He breathes and counts. One... Two... Three... This has to work.

"What are you planning, Ekko? You know I can feel you behind me, right?" Ekko feels his soul leave his body for a few seconds, but quickly decides to return to his performance. The perfect opportunity.

"No... I was just thinking about what you would say" You still don't turn to him, still concentrating on the cleaning between your hands.

“ 'bout what?"

"Well... Powder asked me to tell you that she needed your help putting together one of her pumps, she's not quite sure what some of the parts are for. She told me she'd like you to come over today, because the rest of the week is going to be kind of busy... B-but, I know things with Vi are awkward!, so..." Your heart squeezed a little. They shouldn't have to worry about whatever was going on between the two of you, and as much as it made you uncomfortable to be around Vi right now, you didn't want to make Powder feel bad, or make her think that because you had issues with her sister you wouldn't see her anymore. So you grabbed your stuff, said goodbye to your brother, and set off on your way to The last drop.

Once in the establishment you expertly made your way through the sweaty, drunken bodies to get to the area that led to Vi and her brothers' room. When you reached the door of the room you took a breath and counted to ten before knocking. A very happy Powder greeted you and your heart couldn't help but feel warm. She asked you to climb the stairs to the roof, that she would catch up with you in a few moments, and you, naïve and obedient, began to make your way to the roof of the bar. Once Powder closed the door, Claggor and Mylo stared at her big smile.

"What are you planning, you idiot? You know Vi's on the roof and they're not getting along lately" Mylo scolded with annoyance.

Powder just stuck her tongue out at him before walking back to her bed with a jaunty stride "If we don't help them they'll never speak up for themselves."

"But don't you think Vi?" "Shut up Mylo" "WHO ARE YOU SHUTTING UP, YOU LITTLE-...."

But while the sibling fight raged downstairs, you were fighting your own battle on the roof, for when Violet heard footsteps she turned her head, thinking it was Powder worrying about her again. The last thing she expected to find was you. So now you both stare at each other with wide eyes and bated breath. And that's when it hits you. Powder never needed help, Ekko wasn't nervous because you didn't want to help her friend, but because of this. "Damn evil kids" you think.

It takes a moment, but it feels like an eternity before you greet her. But to her ears it's the prettiest melody she's ever heard. She answers you softly as she watches you walk up to her, your nervous eyes looking at everything but her.

"May I?..." You ask softly, pointing to the spot next to Vi, who's lost for words again, so she just nods before looking away from you. You're both a nervous wreck in your own way. They feel weird. They feel misty next to each other.

Another moment passes as they both watch the sunset.

"I'm sorry"

Your head turns to her, somewhat surprised that she decided to make the first move. However, she wasn't looking at you.

"I shouldn't have called you that..." She said with her voice shaking as she looked down at her fidgeting hands "You're not selfish, I know you care a lot about everyone and you have enough reasons to not want to participate in this" you see her clench her jaw as she tightly closes her eyes and clenches her hands one against the other in shame and regret. It takes her a shaky breath to look you in the eyes "I'm so sorry for everything I said to you, I didn't mean any of it, I don't think of you any of it, I just-" before the girl could torment herself more you hug her. You held her lovingly against you as she seemed to cling to this embrace.

“I forgive you... and I'm sorry, too.”

A shudder went through Violet's spine before she let out a sigh as she clung to you. They stayed like that for a while before sitting back down next to each other, your head against her shoulder and her hand on yours, watching the sun go down. The misty had cleared a little, leaving them feeling numb and peaceful.

"I know you'd never give us a job we couldn't handle" You decide to say quietly, afraid to break the atmosphere "That's why I'm going with you."

Violet quickly turned around, somewhere between alarmed and relieved. "You don't have to-"

"I know I don't have to, but I still will" a small laugh escapes your lips as you straighten up so you can look at her "Besides, I know you idiots couldn't recognize a good haul even if you had it in front of you" you tell her with a mocking look on your face. Violet lets out a laugh before turning to you as if offended.

"How dare you insinuate such a thing?"

"Oh honey, it's not an innuendo, I know" At these last words Violet pounces on you to tickle you, something about making you pay for what you said you seem to understand. After a while, tummy aching, cheeks tense with laughter and both of you lying on the cold concrete, you and Violet stare at each other for a while.

"I missed this" admits Vi with a smile "I missed you, Sunshine" She adds, looking at you with those intense blue eyes that at that moment seemed to sparkle with the reflection of the last rays of the sun (and something more).

A tired smile spreads across your face "I missed you too".

But there, lying next to each other, the mist is slowly returning. You both realize that you are very close, you can feel Violet's breath tapping softly against your face. You both notice every freckle, scar or blemish on the other's face. Vi can't help herself and places her hand on your cheek, caressing it with her thumb. You gently place your hand on hers, holding her hand, appreciating her affection.

Neither of them can tell which is whose end, which is left and which is right. They only know that they are side by side, happy and at peace. They only know that, by inertia or their own will (honestly they don't care, they are too misty and too much in love) their faces are getting closer and closer.

Because there on the roof, lying next to each other after patching things up, with the orange sky in the background, they share their first kiss.

It's no big deal. They're just little girls learning what a kiss is. But here's the thing; a kiss doesn't have to be good to be valuable. It serves no real purpose. It is valued only for the person with whom it is shared.

And in this case, neither of them could care less about the quality of the kiss. They were happy having their first kiss with their best friend. With the girl they love.

They couldn't care less, because they are too misty and too much in love.

But little did they know about what life was about to bring them

I hope you liked it, it took me a long time to write this one, but I liked the result.

The next chapter will be based on the song "Promise" (Angst is coming). I recommend you to listen to the whole Bewitched album, since their songs are the influence of this fanfic (the title of a chapter is the name of a song). I hope you're liking it, see you! 💕

#vi arcane #lesbian vi #vi fanfic #vi x reader #vi #vi from arcane #vi arcane x reader #arcane show #arcane #wlw fanfic #wlw #wlw post #first love #first kiss

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winters8child · 1 day ago

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It´s been a long, long time

Chapter 114

The following weeks swept by in a whirlwind of emotions—mostly, and unexpectedly, good ones. Bucky and I became nearly inseparable, slipping into a rhythm that felt both foreign and comforting. We filled our days with small, ordinary moments: morning coffee brewed side by side, dinners where laughter came easily, and late-night talks that felt like unburdening years of memories. We were doing all the things couples do because that’s what we were now—a couple. The words sounded strange in my mind, almost laughable, considering everything we’d endured together, yet undeniably true. Bucky Barnes was my boyfriend.

For the first time, I wasn’t running from one catastrophe to the next. Life had finally offered us a reprieve, a quiet space to breathe. And in that stillness, there was time to heal—time for us both to start mending in ways we’d never had the chance to before. We could just be, without the weight of survival pressing down on every choice.

Most of our time was spent at Bucky’s place, and though it felt safe, there was a gnawing guilt that I couldn’t shake. Steve and I had poured so much into our home, building a life there, and now it was just sitting, abandoned and empty. One day, when Bucky was at his therapy appointment, I found myself reaching for the house keys. I wasn’t sure why I needed to go back, but something deep down told me I did.

As I stood on the porch, keys in hand, I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. It was just a house, I reminded myself, but as I glanced at the front door, I knew it was more than that. It held memories that I wasn’t sure I was ready to face. Still, I unlocked the door and stepped inside. Everything was as we’d left it, down to the smallest details, though a fine layer of dust coated every surface.

I wandered through the hall, trailing my fingers along the walls and tables as I passed, letting each room sink in. When I reached the bedroom, I stopped in front of the vanity. There was a photo on it—a moment from our wedding day, Steve’s arm draped over my shoulder as he looked at me with that smile of his, full of hope and love. I picked up the frame, pressing it against my chest as tears welled up and slipped down my cheeks.

In that moment, all the grief, love, and guilt I’d been carrying felt too heavy to hold alone. I sank onto the edge of the bed, clutching the picture, allowing myself to mourn the life we’d once had and the man who had filled these walls with laughter and light.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, my voice breaking as I looked down at the photo. “I still love you, Steve. I think of you every goddamn day, and it hurts so much. And I’m sorry that it hurts a little less with each one that goes by.”

The guilt surged up, knotting my stomach as memories flooded my mind. Every morning I woke up next to Bucky, the days we spent laughing, the quiet moments that felt light again—all of it felt like a betrayal, a slow unraveling of what Steve and I had built. It was as if each new memory, each smile, was erasing the world Steve and I had made together.

My fingers tightened around the frame as tears dripped onto the glass, smudging the photo. The love hadn’t faded; it was still there, lodged deep in my heart, yet somehow, in the quiet, unspoken spaces, I had started to make room for something new. For Bucky. For laughter. For healing. And yet, each step forward felt like leaving a part of Steve behind, like he was slipping further from me with each day I learned to live again.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered again, the words meant for him, for myself, for the strange, unfair tangle of love and loss. And as I sat there, clutching that one piece of our past, I knew that Steve’s memory would always be here with me, woven into the very fabric of who I was, even as I tried to find my way forward.

I wiped away my tears, clutching the framed picture to my chest a moment longer before carefully slipping it into my bag. With a steadying breath, I rose from the bed, but just as I was about to leave, a soft meow echoed through the quiet house. Pausing, I listened closely, the meowing growing louder and closer. I walked down the stairs, curiosity building, and set my bag down on the hallway vanity as I opened the front door.

Standing just outside was a fluffy white cat, its big blue eyes looking up at me, purring softly. It weaved between my legs as though it belonged there, its fur so soft and clean that it didn’t seem like a stray.

"Hey, pretty," I murmured, crouching down to stroke its head. I glanced around, half-expecting someone to be looking for it, but the street was quiet, with no sign of an owner. With no collar in sight, I wondered if this little creature had just wandered over to find some company.

As I continued petting it, the cat leaned in, purring even louder, almost as if it sensed my need for comfort. A soft, bittersweet smile tugged at my lips.

"Where did you come from, huh?" I whispered, my fingers scratching gently behind its ears.

The cat meowed back, circling my ankles as if it had no intention of leaving anytime soon. I hesitated, my hand lingering. I stood, picked up my bag, and, with one last look around the house, locked up, determined to head back to Brooklyn.

“Goodbye, buddy,” I murmured to the cat, half-convinced someone nearby must already be looking for him. But as I walked toward my car, he followed close by, his small paws padding softly along the pavement until he sat beside my car door, gazing up at me expectantly—as if saying, Well? Are you going to unlock it so I can get in?

“You’re not coming with me,” I told him, though my voice held little conviction. He only responded by weaving through my legs once more, his purr echoing in the silence, a sound that tugged at the cracks in my resolve.

I glanced around one last time, hoping to spot someone searching for their cat, but the street remained empty. With a resigned sigh, I unlocked the car and opened the door. The cat leaped in without a moment’s hesitation, instantly claiming the passenger seat as if he’d been riding shotgun his whole life.

Climbing into the driver’s seat, I found myself smiling despite everything. “Alright, fine. I’ll help you find your owner. I’m sure they’re out of their minds already, wondering where you are,” I murmured to him. In response, he let out a soft meow, almost as if he understood every word, his blue eyes fixed on me with a steady, almost knowing gaze.

Throughout the drive, I kept glancing over at him, expecting some hint of nervousness, but he just curled up in a ball and drifted off to sleep, completely at ease. It was as if he rode in strangers’ cars all the time—or maybe he felt like he already knew me.

When I finally reached Bucky’s apartment, I scooped him up and headed inside. Bucky opened the door, eyebrows raised as he took in the sight of my new, furry friend in my arms.

“So…who’s this?” he asked, trying to mask his surprise with a smirk.

I shrugged, scratching behind the cat’s ears. “I found him by the house. Didn’t have a collar, and I figured he might be a stray. He kind of adopted me on the spot.”

Bucky watched the cat with a soft smile, crouching down as it padded around, sniffing everything with curiosity. "He kinda looks familiar, don’t you think?” he mused, glancing up at me. “Looks like Alpine, that old plushy of yours."

My eyes lit up. “He does!” I laughed, though I couldn’t shake the feeling that his bright blue eyes reminded me of someone else too. There was a depth in them, a hint of green, just like Steve’s.

I knelt next to Bucky as the cat looked up at us, its tail swishing with quiet confidence, as if he belonged here with us all along.

“We should put up posters so his owner can find him,” I said, glancing over at Bucky. He nodded in agreement, and that’s exactly what we did.

For days, we waited for a call from a relieved owner, but no one reached out. By the fourth day, I’d caught myself calling him Alpine, despite my resolve not to get attached. On the fifth day, he had already found his favorite spot on the couch, curling up in the sun like he’d been there forever. By the sixth day, I’d bought a food bowl with his name engraved on it, the kind you only get for something permanent.

I guess he was ours now. I wasn’t an overly spiritual person, but some days it felt like Alpine was an angel Steve had sent down to help me through my darkest moments. On the days when I cried on the couch, he would plant his nose against mine, purring softly as if to comfort me. When I stared at our wedding picture, he curled up next to me, resting his paw on my hand, a silent reminder that I wasn’t alone.

When Christmas rolled around, I could almost feel a sense of anticipation blossoming within me. Finally, something to look forward to. Bucky and I picked out a tree and decorations together, and I even baked cookies that filled the apartment with their sugary aroma. We took walks in the snow, hand in hand, sharing laughs and warm kisses beneath the mistletoe while cheesy Christmas music played in the background.

On a Saturday morning, I decided to visit Steve's grave, so I picked up flowers and made my way over. My steps crunched in the snow, and the cold bit into my skin as I smiled at the children laughing and playing around me. It was a relief to realize that seeing kids didn’t hurt as much as it used to.

As I walked through the gates, I noticed a child kneeling at Steve’s grave. He looked no older than ten, his blond hair peeking out from under his hat. He didn’t look up as I approached; instead, he was fixated on the stone, his fingers gently tracing the letters of Steve's name, his expression one of awe.

“Are you a Captain America fan?” I asked, breaking the silence. That’s when he looked up, his eyes widening for a split second before shifting back to the gravestone.

“No...he was my dad,” he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty as if he were still trying to grasp the truth of what he was saying.

I dropped the flowers in the snow, my heart racing as I recognized those eyes staring back at me. The eyes of my son.

Next Chapter

#sebastian stan #bucky barnes #marvel #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers #the avengers #fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader

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cosmocove · 2 years ago

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forgot to post these whoops

#bonk.txt #exocolonist spoilers #pmmm spoilers #<- for exactly one of these lmao #exocolonist #teenage exocolonist #i was a teenage exocolonist #the only one of these that is like actually finished is the sol 🤝 homura one n the other two arent getting finished cause i got a new phon #so i no longer have like the files for them lmao #nomi nomi was drawn like the day before halloween i drew them cause i originally was gonna draw dys to go with them #cause their friendship means the world to me i love that dys chose to start wearing those gamer gaulets to match with nomi nomi #but this was pretty much as far as i got i changed the lineart color to purple cause it looked better but i dont have a good image of that1 #the 'your parents named you' one was actually the first fanart i ever drew the original sketch of it was made like on september 16th ithink #n i worked on n off again for a week on it before deciding i didnt like it n never touched it again wait forgot to tag #undescribed #anyway the sol 🤝 homura run was drawn on october 20th cause i realized that the way i was playing the game i always maxxed out hearts with #tammy first n just generally took her side on everything n went wait a second #genuinely meant to post these a while ago after i got my new phone but forgot to asfjhejdjdj #none of these are in the same style cause im not consistent n have trouble drawing characters that arent my ocs #if u look for more than a second at sol 🤝 homura you'll notice i forgot to draw homura's other arm n i never fixed it #bonk.png

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icewindandboringhorror · 4 months ago

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Everytime I face a new character limit on a website that didn't have them before/used to have really long ones... AUGHHhhh the modern social media world was not made for people like me (lovers of details, rambling, elaboration, thorough explanation, and nuance)

#twitter and other short form shit and everything being a Phone App On Small Screen instead of a Proper #Computer Website i feel like has just ruined the format of literally everything for me. Thoughts just keep getting more and more condensed #with detail and nuance taken away. everything over simplified into only the basics. blah blah blah. I've already probably rambled about thi #all before but it's just SO frustrating. I literally just CAN NOT talk that way!!! even if I try!!! I took multiple advanced placement #english & language arts classes in school and I literally never made below an A on any assignment EVER except for ESSAYS #where I would legit get almost failing grades just because I cannt express myself concisely. I took an english placement test thats made to #like evaluate your competency in a subject and out of the 102 multiple choice questions I only missed TWO of them. almost a perfect #score. But for the 5 open response questions (about articulating thoughts succinctly) I did not get a single one of them lol #I only got partial credit on 3. It's like I OBVIOUSLY understand the material and I know how Words Work and how to analyze and interpret #meaning and etc. etc. But it's just when I have to express myself CLEANLY I can't. It's always ''well you have very good points and you #get around to the idea eventually and I think it's very insightful - but it just needs to be shorter/the side tangent needs to be removed/#etc.'' I've always wondered if it has something to do with being on the schizophrenia spectrum and how that can cause disorganized #speech sometimes hmm..ANYWAY.. But I just naturally express myself in a very particular way which is lengthy and I can't rea #ly seem to control it. So it's basically like just.. being gradually pushed out of every place that won't accomodate people with different #ways of like perceiving and expressing or etc. Everything cannot ALWAYS be 100% 'Short and Snappy and To The Point' or a quippy one #liner or the Bare Minimum of information being provided or etc. Some peoples brains just do not work like that!!!!! Sorry I operate #in detail and elaboration lol. ANYWAY.. I still sometimes use random ''dating sites'' like OKCupid to look for platonic friends since #I never leave the house so it's hard for me to just meet friends naturally. And I just realized today that they added a RIDICULOUSLY small #character limit to their messaging system (2000 words?? augh). And also took away answer explanations (when you answer a compatibility #question you used to have a space to give detail and explain why you answered the way you did) and removed a few other features and it's ju #t like.. how the fuck is any of this actually helpful in terms of judging compatibility? take away ALL nuance and anyting that actually #is meant to tell you anything about a person? Bumble's character limits for your profile description are even more fucking insane and so #is every other disgustingly minimalistic place I've seen like.. OKC used to be superior BECAUSE it allowed for a TON of detail. like back i #2016 or something there was SO much data you could look at. long form question answers. personality trait summaries. etc. Now you have #SOO little to judge off of when evaluating compatibiility it's like. You'd have better luck just throwing a dart in a crowded street and #talking to whoever it hits. Why are people so fucking allergic to reading anything longer than 3 words and providing DETAILS!! It just seem #harder and harder to find any place to meet platonic friends where you have any amount of actual data to go off of and it isnt basically #just random 'speed dating' set up shit. AARGH. &I know 'oh just join a club& meet ppl irl' 1. erm..covid. 2.I mostly want to meet ppl #in places I'd like to move so I already know ppl when I get there. You kind of HAVE to do that online. bc I am not there yet.. WISHING for #Complexity.Com where ppl can upload full 900 page psychological files of themselves. MINIMUM profile character limit 30k words lol

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gas-stxtion-a · 1 year ago

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//and now,,,, as promised,,,,, the tftgs edition of the probably-dead "are you [x]'s type" bingo meme that was going around recently

as i said with the salvatore one, very few of these are hard rules! these are just general trends in the kinds of people each of these characters tend to be attracted to.

and under the cut... sabine <3

#we should never play charades together {dash games}#you know this whole thing is one big experiment‚ right? and you're the little mouse? {ooc}#//these took so much longer than i meant for them to #//anyway. yeah.

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giantkillerjack · 1 year ago

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Dear horror youtubers who write video essays explaining and examining extraordinary works of horror that I deeply want to see and understand but will literally never be able to safely watch due to my own trauma - thus providing me with a way to learn from and connect to works of art that would be otherwise forever inaccessible to me,

I love you.

youtube

#original #horror #final girl studios #if this youtuber is on tumblr someone should tag her #LOVE the idea of a girl coming of age and becoming monstrous but now obsessed with how they described this movie as #'a girl coming of age and finding that the people AROUND her have become monsters to her'#fucking. brilliant! thank you for giving me a way to learn from and enjoy this movie! i am more sure than ever that i should not watch it!#but i am so grateful to you for giving me such a gift! how wonderful!#that said - folks please be very cognizant of the warnings at the beginning of the video. there were still parts I had to look away from #also it was cathartic experiencing this movie from this POV bc 'the horror of girlhood being validated' is healing tbh #it was HORRIFYING being a little girl who became a teenage girl! and no one seemed to care what girl-children went through!#I mean folks were dismissive of kids in general but teen girls and little girls are like. a Joke to a lot of people.#everything we liked was ridiculed. and our fears held similarly little weight to adults. and yet. The Horror of Girlhood is so Real.#I Can Only Imagine how much more girls of color were dismissed and targeted and dehumanized.#and then you've got the little Trans girls and teens - who were playing The Horror of Girlhood on like. Nightmare Hard Mode.#the specific horror of girlhood for me as a transmasc AFAB person meant that the existential horror of being seen as a girl #meshed with my gender dysphoria in a way I did not have the language for and would not for many years to come #like the internalized misogyny and the gender dysphoria were literally impossible to parse apart. i couldn't tell which was which.#i just knew i HATED being a girl and i wanted it to STOP. and it was mostly because of how people treated girls.#like it probably took me longer to figure out my gender because of that.

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great-and-small · 6 months ago

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My grandfather and my godfather (a beloved neighbor and dear family friend) had a long standing bet- for one dollar- about who would die first. Both of them being slightly pessimistic (in the funny way), they both insisted that they themselves would be the first to die. Any time my grandfather had a health scare, he’d gleefully call up my godfather to boast that he’d be passing “any day now” and he was sure to win the bet. It was a big family joke and they were always amiably sparring and comparing notes about who was in worse shape, medically speaking.

When my grandfather was in hospice care dying of liver cancer, my godfather was quite ill also. It took him great effort to make the journey to see his dying friend. As he came into the room, supported by a family member, he shuffled to my grandpa’s bedside and silently handed him a dollar bill. He was ceding his loss of the bet, as they both knew who was going first. My grandpa had been in quite bad shape for a while and was no longer able to speak but let me tell you he snatched that dollar with unexpected strength and literally laughed aloud. He knew exactly what the gesture meant and he couldn’t help but find the humor within the grief. It was the last time any of us heard my grandpa laugh, as he passed shortly after.

When I talk about my appreciation for “dark humor” I’m not so much thinking about edgy jokes, but rather the human instinct to somehow, impossibly, both find and appreciate the absurdity that is so often folded into the profound grief of life and death. When I tell this story I think it kind of perturbs people sometimes, but it’s honestly one of my favorite memories about two men I really deeply admired. I could never hope for anything more than for my loved ones to remember me laughing until the very end, and taking joy in a little joke as one of my final acts.

#I think almost anyone in medicine will understand this #to absent friends!#gallows humor is a very human way to cope #death #grief #dark humor #illness

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eufezco · 3 months ago

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LIKE THE FIRST TIME

it has been a long time since you and logan had sex. you should show him that despite everything he hated about himself, you still craved him.

logan x afab!reader (smut, angst) + no use of y/n. english isn't my first language (!). gif credit to @/asgardswinter

it was a shitty place where you were living with logan. it was always dirty, no matter how many times you cleaned it, it was noisy, because despite being in the middle of nowhere, the train tracks were very close to it, and it was the least home-like thing in the world. both of you were working your asses off to get out of there as soon as possible.

in your free time, you helped caliban with the housework and took care of old charles xavier while logan spent the whole day out, driving and having to deal with one of the things he hated most in the world, people.

he always came home late, tired, with his whole body aching. some nights you would fall asleep while waiting for him and even though logan asked you to do it, to not to wait up for him, most times you stayed up so just to make sure he arrived safely. you waited for him curled up in bed. when he was a minute late, your heart began to beat faster and you imagined the worst. but then he would come into the room, dragging his feet and with his head bowed down.

—how was your day?

logan grunted as he sat at the foot of your bed, you felt how the mattress sagged with his weight.

—did something happen?

you crawled to him and rested your chin on his shoulder. he let out a sigh of relief when your arms wrapped around his body and you hugged him from the back.

—just a tired fuckin' day, that's all.

you hummed, understanding. —well, now you are home so you can finally relax. would you like something to eat?

logan shook his head as he let it fall back and rest on your shoulder. he just wanted to stay like that a little longer with his body between your legs and his eyes closed. he placed one of his hands over yours resting on his stomach as you hugged him. one of his big hands was enough to cover both of yours.

—i've missed you, lo. i always miss you when you are away.

you placed a kiss on his neck. the first thing he did when he entered the house was to get rid of his shirt, keeping only the white tank top he was wearing underneath. his broad shoulders were at your disposal, his muscular arms and warm skin as well.

logan swallowed when he felt your lips on his neck. you noticed so you placed another kiss there.

—i miss you too. every second i spend away from you, i miss you.

you hummed, your heart gave a small jump of joy. while your love language was words of affirmation and you were always reminding him how much he was loved by you, logan was more of an act of service man. removing makeup from your face when you got home and were too tired to do it yourself, washing your hair and massaging your head when you showered, and leaving your coffee ready when he went to work earlier than you. hearing those words come out of logan's mouth meant the whole world.

your hands traveled down his abdomen until they reached the hem of his tshirt and easily slipped under the fabric. you felt his perfect abs under your fingertips and the hairs growing below his belly button as well. he took a deep breath, it had been so long since the last time he had allowed you to touch him like that.

you took your hands out of his tshirt and moved one of them to his neck to make logan turn his head resting on your shoulder and look at you. you connected your lips with his, his bushy beard pricked your face as you kissed him, but you didn't mind, it had been so long since you and logan had kissed so passionately that you could take it.

your tongue slipped past his lips and logan moaned, allowing his to go inside your mouth as well. you moved on the bed, putting one leg on each side of logan's body and sitting on his lap, all this without stopping kissing for a second. his hands now rested on your lower back, yours were on the back of his head to deepen the kiss.

his cock got rock hard the moment you sat on his thighs and you started to roll your hips timidly against his crotch. you felt his growing bulge rubbing against your clit through the thin fabric of your underwear. god, how bad you needed to feel him.

your hands slid down from his neck, caressing his entire torso, until they reached again the hem of his tshirt. you tried to pull the white tank top over his head, but logan stopped you. his lips parted from yours and he shook his head.

—it's okay. i want you, logan. i promise everything is fine.

you held his cheeks so he would look you in the eyes.

he was getting old, there was nothing left of the young and charming boy you met at charles' academy. his body had changed, his hair and beard were becoming whiter every day, and you were still young and full of light while he was fading away. yet you still loved and desired him, like the first day you craved his body. you found him just as hot, even hotter now, but you didn't want to force him to do something he wasn't going to enjoy.

you kissed him so he could stop worrying. —let me take care of you. i want you, lo, i need to feel you —.you mumbled against his lips. he let out a grunt when he felt you pressing your pussy harder on his bulge.

your hands traveled the same path down his chest one more time until you reached the edge of his tshirt again. you expected him to take your hands off him again but he not only allowed you to keep going but he also lifted his arms so you could pull the white tank top over his head.

—fuck —. you let out in a mix of moan and gasp. his body was breathtaking. your hands were quickly attached to his chest, hairy, hard under your touch, warm, with each of its muscles perfectly defined. abs, pecs, perfect broad and muscular shoulders, and wide strong arms, with veins running from his shoulder down his arms to the back of his hands. you ran your fingers along the thick scars that marked his body. —fuck, you're so hot.

with his hands on your back, logan gently pushed you to keep rubbing yourself against him and you moaned, he was harder if possible and you were so wet that you knew that your panties would be completely soaked. you kissed the crook of his neck while his fists clenched, clutching at the tshirt of his that you were wearing as your pajamas. logan fought against his instinct, against the animalistic way you were making him feel, but his grip became so tight that he ended up ripping the fabric.

—it was one of your favorite tshirts.

—don't care.

and logan kissed your lips as he ended up tearing the fabric completely and threw it on the floor. you grabbed the back of his head when his lips moved down your neck and collarbone. your nipples were already painfully hard when logan cupped one of your tits and wrapped his mouth around your sensitive bud.

all of a sudden you got up from his lap and he had to let your nipple go. he was worried about the way you had moved away from him, had he done something wrong?

now you were standing in the middle of the room, in front of him, only wearing your panties. your body was the most beautiful thing his eyes had ever witnessed, with scars very similar to his, with all those things you hated about yourself. was that how you felt about him? if it had not been for the pain in his whole body he would have fallen off the bed on his knees in front of you.

he huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes once you started swaying your hips from side to side while you slid your underwear down your legs. you laughed too, you felt stupid, but at least you had managed to make him smile. you two weren't the type to do those things, things were always more animalistic, more passionate, rougher. you walked towards him and leaned in to kiss him as your hands worked on the zipper of his jeans.

—you're beautiful —. he whispered.

logan helped you to straddle him again. you held your body over his thanks to your knees on the bed. with one hand you grabbed his hard cock resting impatiently against his stomach. he gasped because of your firm grip and squeezed your hips when you lined it up against your aching entrance.

you lowered yourself just enough for his tip to go in. he let out a deep grunt straight from his chest, you let out all the air you had in your lungs in a moan. you never forgot how big he was, the thickness of his cock, the patch of hair on its base, and the veins running along his shaft, but you did forget about the way it stretched you open, about the sting that his dick going deeper inside you caused.

—careful —. logan mumbled against your lips.

you kept taking him, closing your eyes shut and biting your lower lip, hissing every time you took a centimeter more inside of you. you rested your forehead against his and whined when his cock finally bottomed you. —i need a moment.

logan nodded. one of your hands sneaked in between your bodies and found your clit while his hands lovingly caressed your back. it had been so long since you had sex. logan wouldn't let you touch him, he was disgusted by his own body and he was afraid that you would see him the way he saw himself. that's why that night you decided that you would make him feel so good that he would never doubt the way you felt about him or his body.

you started by slowly rolling your hips as your fingers worked on your clit. his jaw tightened while he felt your body moving with his whole cock inside. his big hands on your hips helped you to move, setting a pace and keeping you from going faster so you wouldn't hurt yourself.

—that's it, take your time —. he said. young logan wouldn't have given you a second to get used to it, he would have fucked you mercilessly and you would have loved every second of it. but now, his eyes were focused on where your bodies became one, enjoying how your pussy adjusted to his size thanks to your fingers rubbing your clit.

he moaned once you lifted your body just a little and then dropped back onto him. you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his lips while you repeated that same move again and again. your cries and his moans mixed in your mouths. all his body jerked every time you lifted yourself a bit more and then sucked his cock completely inside you again.

—you make me feel so good, logan. always have, fuck—. you purred in his ear. his hands, previously resting on your hips, slid all the way to your ass your hands and squeezed it. in those little details you could see how he was gaining confidence, which encouraged you to keep moving without changing your pace. it was slow, passionate, intense and intimate.

between moans and cries, you kept worshiping him, telling him how much you had missed feeling him inside you, how your fingers were no comparison to his cock, how you didn't want to share these moments with anyone other than him. there was no one like him. you didn't care about his scars, his moodiness, the gray of his hair, there would never be another one for you but logan, you did not want another one.

you were close, he could feel it in the way your walls were squeezing his cock and he knew he wouldn't last longer. logan wrapped his arms around your body, pressing you against his hard chest, and your fingers knotted into his hair. he groaned, your little jumps became irregular, your legs began to shake. logan hugged you tighter and sunk his teeth into your shoulder, getting a little choked cry from you.

—cum inside me, lo. fill me up, please, i need it. let me have it, please.

oh god, your words were driving him insane and after how well you had treated him, who was he to deny your wishes?

logan held your body down on his cock as he came, hugging you tighter against him. you buried your head into the crook of his neck, moaning into his skin while your legs shook and your pussy clenched around him. it was too much. as he released himself inside you, his claws came out and trapped you between them and logan's body, you had no escape. he groaned when he felt the pain of the adamantium ripping the skin off his knuckles mixed with all the pleasure of cumming inside you.

—shit —. he immediately put the claws away when he realized. —i haven't hurt you, have i?

you shook your head, still coming down from your high. he exhaled with relief. once you had caught your breath, you straightened your back, still sitting on his lap and feeling his cock getting soft inside you. you brought his hands to the front.

—are you okay? that probably hurt —. you caressed his knuckles.

—felt too good to even think about it.

you smiled proudly and kissed him. when you broke away, he noticed the mark of his teeth on the skin of your shoulder. —'m so sorry, fuck.

—don't be. i wish you had bitten me harder.

he shook his head, keeping himself from laughing. —you're a freak.

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luvth0t · 7 months ago

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RIDICULOUS ━ L.N

in which lando can longer cope with you laughing at the mere idea of being with him, and you realise it wouldn’t be that ridiculous. but it may be all too late.

warnings; nswf, smut, unprotected sex, friends to lovers, lando in the friend zone, implied that reader is a year or two older than lando, little bit of angst, choking, soft dom!lando, silly reader, overstimulation i guess, lotta praise, oral, fluff at the end if you squint

lando was infatuated the moment he met you.

it took a while to realise how strongly he felt, considering he met you at arguably the most chaotic time of his life.

his first year in f1, carlos his teammate; meaning you were around every race from the start, to this day.

he wanted his own photographer after a mere few interactions with you, but quickly realised he only cared about photos because you were the one occasionally taking them.

carlos signing for ferrari meant lando was losing two people; his teammate and you. his friend.

he’d jokingly asked you to jump ship, work for him instead. if only you knew how serious he was being.

you never looked at lando the way he looked at you. he was like a friends annoying little brother, one you couldn’t help but pity and adore.

he made you laugh, was fun to be around. a change from the personality’s you would come across in the paddock. it was no shock to you that carlos built a bond with him ━ as did you.

since joining ferarri you didn’t see the brit as much as you’d like, not that carlos’ new teammate was a let down. charles was lovely. you didn’t feel invasive taking shots of the pair of them.

but you still kept it touch. occasional group outings, dinners and celebrations. you weren’t oblivious to the way he always made time for you. but you were naive to the deeper meanings.

his flirtations were nothing of concern, to you it was a running joke. amongst many of you; you didn’t think lando actually wanted anything from you beyond platonic.

he could handle rejection. but being laughed at? he could only cope for so long.

“he begged me to invite you tonight,” carlos’ words were teasing, directed towards you yet his eyes rested on lando; out for dinner with a few other team members from mclaren carlos hadn’t caught up with in a while.

melbourne was one of your favourite races for this very reason, having to get here so early meant you had time to catch up with those in the paddock away from the craziness.

lando’s eyes lifted from the menu he was reading; scoffing immediately, already prepared to jump on the defence ━ not giving you a chance to speak.

“i was making sure you hadn’t forgotten anyone, y/n included.” lando corrected, flashing you a grin in the midst of his explanation, one you mirrored.

“i’d like to think my presence would be a given,” you huffed back at carlos; and lando felt a fool for allowing his heart to jump at the prospect of you also defending him.

“of course it is. just saying, lando was set on making sure you’d be here.” carlos smirked; eyes now on his own menu, pretending as if he wasn’t attempting to stir the pot.

“he misses you,” an engineer spoke up from besides lando, nudging the british driver who could only roll his eyes; not at all unfamiliar with being targeted with such banter. he copped it a lot worse when you were all on the same team.

“mhm, misses me. not carlos.” you grinned; practically bragged ━ nudging carlos this time; you’d grown a talent it seemed for redirecting the topic of conversation. trying too at least, and the way lando smirked made it clear he appreciated your efforts.

he’d nodded as well, confirming your words. in no way ashamed to admit he missed you more than the spaniard, while it didn’t seem like there was any truth to his words with the playful smile on his face; the assumption couldn’t be any closer to the truth.

“if you miss her so much you should go out for dinner just the pair of you,” carlos challenged quickly; earning an eye roll from yourself and a small giggle at the idea ━ oh the shit show that would be, you and lando out for dinner. you could read the headlines now.

lando caught the way you laughed, you however missed the way his eyes snapped to you in the moment. the way his smile faltered, merely from watching you completely dismiss and laugh at the idea of spending just a single dinner with him alone. what’s so funny about that? could it really be the most absurd idea? no matter how many times you reacted in such a way it always stung.

he recovered almost instantly however, like he always does.

“wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings, know you don’t like to be left out.” lando mused; earning another laugh from you ━ one that was music to his ears, hearing you laugh at his jokes was always enough to have him holding his chin a little higher.

“oh i’d be more than happy to see you finally get out of the friend zone.” carlos regretted his words the moment they left his mouth, catching the way lando’s smile fell and jaw tensed ━ quickly realising his teasing may have gone too far.

your lack of reaction killed lando more than carlos’ words did, the way you barely battered an eyelash ━ completely unbothered while he sat here trying to not pop a blood vessel. he wanted to defend the relationship or friendship you had, but there wasn’t much to defend.

because carlos was right, he was painfully stuck in the friend zone.

“how much longer till you realise these jokes got old two years ago?” you sounded awfully unbothered as your gaze remained on your menu, only looking up when another engineer spoke up.

“it’s just a joke?” he’d asked in full seriousness, eyes flickering between yourself and lando. he wasn’t on carlos’ side of the garage, always working on lando’s side. he barely interacted with you; only heard things through the grapevine.

“obviously.” you spoke as if it was…obvious, and the laugh you let out would’ve softened the blow of your words had lando not already heard this a thousand times.

“ah, ah, ah. don’t forget about silverstone.” carlos simply couldn’t keep his mouth shut; bringing up the night where everyone was convinced you and lando spent the night together.

which would be valid if you actually had, but you hadn’t. you went home together purely because you both were tired. he dropped you at your hotel room, didn’t even come inside. somehow no one believed either of you when you squashed their suspicions that ‘lando’s wish had finally come true.’

“don’t be ridiculous.” you scoffed, shaking your head ever so slightly. lando’s silence would’ve been deafening if others weren’t jumping in to speak, and maybe you would’ve noticed his lack of input if you spared him a glance.

he was managing to muster a fake smile, it was almost painful. any amusement he was clinging too had vanished, wanting the conversation to be over with.

“it’s not ridiculous.” carlos huffed; and lando almost wanted to nod in agreement. thank him even. because it wasn’t ridiculous, he didn’t think so at least. it made sense to him. you made so much sense to him.

“it is.” the nail in the coffin, lando couldn’t keep smiling anymore. you sounded oh so certain, all the while the smile hadn’t left your face. “come on now,” you added in exaggeration at carlos’ unconvinced face.

lando wasn’t sure what you said next, he didn’t want to hear it. he couldn’t figure out why hearing all of this was suddenly unbearable, but before he knew it he was not so subtlety excusing himself ━ something about getting another drink, before standing up and bee lining to the bar.

the abrupt departure didn’t halt anyone else’s movements, conversations continuing and carlos joining in a debate with his cousin and his old mclaren press officer; while your attention got stuck on lando’s full glass ahead of you.

he didn’t need another drink.

you watched as he weaved through the crowds, the way he failed to smile at anyone he passed by; the tension clear in his jaw; it almost appeared as if he was scowling.

it was funny, because your first thought was if you offended him. but you couldn’t figure out what possibly could have; it was laughable how unaware you were of his feelings.

“i’ll be back,” you excused yourself, standing up and following in lando’s directions without any hesitance; a slight frown on your face as you dodged people left and right to get to the bar.

you weren’t sure why the prospect of upsetting him upset you so much, but the sudden urgency to check on him was too powerful to ignore.

“rude to not offer a girl a drink you know?”

lando’s eyes only shifted towards you for a mere couple of seconds when you made your presence known. he could count on one hand the amount of times he wished to be alone when you were near, but this was one of them.

he was drained, unable to fake any more smiles or shrug off any more comments. blame it on the jet lag.

“apologises,” he hummed; not offering you another glance which had your suspicions confirmed, your furrowed brow showing concern not that he could see. his blue eyes were focused ahead on the busy bartender.

“you good?” you internally cringed as the words left your lips, unable to figure out a way to address the sudden mood without sounding overbearing or overstepping.

you watched as his shoulders tensed; as his eyes strategically continued to avoid you, only making the pit in your stomach feel deeper, as if it could swallow you whole.

“peachy.” his sarcasm was clear, and while it would usually be a relief it wasn’t laced with the usual humour. it was blunt, dismissive ━ and if you had any doubts left about being the reason for him running off, they were now squashed.

“did i say something━ did carlos say something?” the questions stumbled out of your lips in concern, biting down on the inside of your cheek. “i’ve tried to tell him to lay off with the jokes, it’s stupid i know.” you began to ramble.

lando finally let his gaze land on you, and the sight of your sympathetic eyes and worried frown had him feeling guilty. which was ridiculous, but suddenly he felt an urge to reassure you he was fine. that you hadn’t said anything.

but you had.

“it’s not the jokes,” lando cut you off; hands running over his head, even letting out a laugh at how pathetic he sounded. he was going to continue, explain it further; but he stopped himself.

he couldn’t. it was a can of worms that must remain shut.

you stood in silence for a moment, under the impression he’d keep speaking. but he didn’t. leaving you with no explanation; just further confusion.

“no?” you hummed; eyebrows raising. “because i totally get if it is. it’s ridiculous how they keep going on━” you were rambling again, trying to make the situation better. attempting to ensure he felt heard, that he could speak to you about what was bothering him.

so oblivious to the fact you were just digging yourself a deeper hole.

there was that word again; ridiculous.

“is it? is it really that ridiculous?” lando couldn’t stop the question from flying out of his mouth; only now turning to properly face you; in time to catch the dumbfounded look on your face from his question.

it took a few moments to try understand what he meant, coming up short as you stared at him clueless, lips parting to try come up with something to say but falling short.

“is what?” you mumbled, suddenly all confidence was gone. almost scared to hear the answer; purely because you recognised the doubt and regret illustrating his face.

but lando had nothing else to lose, you’ve rejected him in front of everyone else without realising. what’s once more?

“us. dinner us two, having gone home together in silverstone. this?” lando sighed out like it was obvious, hands waving between the pair of you.

because to him it was so obvious. the amount of times he’s almost asked you to join him for a meal, just the pair of you.

maybe if he had you’d see what he saw.

silverstone meant so much to him, having expected nothing from you but he thought about the taxi ride back to the hotel more than he’d like to admit. he could’ve sworn you’d been flirting with him that night.

he even thought it would’ve been the start of something.

optimism was a curse however, because stupidly lando thought perhaps after finally expressing his feelings that maybe you’d reveal your hidden reciprocation. that maybe you were scared like him.

but instead all he could see was shock. and confusion. and fuck, was that sympathy?

“what?” it was a weak response, but all you could muster. you were attempting to find any other explanation for his words, to figure out what he could be implying.

lando had to laugh, shaking his head as he faced the bar again; hands running over his face as you quickly realised he was being fully serious.

“it’s not━ we’ve never━ i mean it would be weird.” word vomit, you didn’t know what you were saying; usually so careful with your words you knew the moment lando looked at you in shock and offence you’d be haunted by that very sentence. “not weird━ but,” you attempted to fix your mistake, eyes screwing shut.

another laugh from him beat you to it however.

“ridiculous. i got it,” lando spoke through a breath, sounding incredibly defeated which had your stomach dropping.

you struggled to find words to assure him, still attempting to process what he’d just told you. you hadn’t ever looked at him in that way. he was always just… lando.

“lando…” you trailed off with a frown, only now starting to realise the position you both were now in.

the awkward tension was growing quickly and you’d never despised something so quickly. you refused to let this be the bitter end to your friendship.

“it’s fine. just drop it.” lando huffed, standing up straight; eyes finding yours once more. he didn’t want you to feel bad, he’d accepted long ago that his chances of you feeling the same were slim.

you can’t apologise for how you feel.

“no we should talk about it,” you disagreed, so much concern and care in your eyes it almost made him sick. he didn’t need that from you. and the last thing he wanted to do was talk about how he’d spent years pining over you.

he’d kept it secret for a reason, to avoid this.

“i’ll pass,” lando hummed; the half smile he mustered up did little to comfort you as he licked his bottom lip and glanced around the room. “i’m gonna head up,” he cleared his throat.

you’d gone to express your dismay with such thing, but he was walking off before you could get another word out; left alone at the bar dumbfounded and suddenly in need of a drink.

it would be quite sad to admit that one revelation could change your whole weekend. but it did.

you’ve never had trouble sleeping, in fact the jet lag usually knocked you out. yet you’d spent the best of your time in melbourne thinking through every word lando said. looking back on every damn interaction the two of you shared.

you felt like an idiot. because suddenly it made a lot of sense, what you failed to realise in the moment fell together piece by piece.

an insight into his intentions for the effort he’d put into the friendship over the last couple years was eye opening, and while you were unsure as to how you hadn’t assumed such thing sooner, you found yourself asking the question how it made you feel.

you’d be lying if you didn’t have a few moments of giddiness as you recounted certain times. how he drove you home from pre-season testing one time because you didn’t feel well. how he always got you flowers for your birthday.

suddenly your mind was consumed with the thought of lando every waking second. from the moment you entered the paddock on thursday you were looking for him. which didn’t make sense considering you had plans to avoid him.

you didn’t want to make things worse than they were. but for some reason he was the only thing on your mind, to the point it was becoming an issue as you tried to go about your work.

not once in your career had you been pulled up on anything, so when carlos questioned if you were okay friday afternoon ━ claiming you had been slacking, you knew you were fucked.

there’s no way you felt the same. surely not.

you had to stand by what you said. it’d be weird?

he was lando. annoying lando who couldn’t grow a speck of facial hair and flinched at the sight of fish.

except saturday, when you finally laid eyes on the driver again, it was cruel slap in the face of reality when you realised that was almost 5 years ago. you’d both changed. lando had changed.

you almost spiralled when you found yourself admiring the driver. had his mclaren top always been so tight around his biceps? had his skin always been so sun kissed? not to mention the way his curls sat atop his head.

you suddenly felt insane. you’d never looked at him in that light, never thought what if. but his confession had you a mess of thoughts, one’s you had to run away from. causing you to spend the rest of the weekend hidden away in ferrari’s hospitality.

you could only hide for so long, carlos had won ━ which was enough to get your mind off of the british driver for a whole 4 minutes until they were up on the podium together.

work was your priority however, but you couldn’t help but notice just how nicely lando photographs. you only ever focused on carlos, considering he paid your wage. but as you took shots and shots of the pair interacting before and after the podium from afar you couldn’t help but note how lando was practically glowing.

your head was a mess, and as you now stood in a random club in melbourne, you had no idea what your next move was.

you couldn’t exactly deny going out to celebrate when carlos had won. so your next wish was that lando simply wouldn’t be in attendance.

but he was, and your eyes hadn’t left him all night.

still having not spoken for days, you couldn’t shake the urge to congratulate him. yet for some reason you were scared, you didn’t trust yourself. fearing you’d say something you’d regret. which was a foreign feeling. lando was usually the easiest person for you to talk too.

however you could only stand in the corner with a drink as your only company for so long. a sudden wave of confidence washing over you, or more so desperation to stop being so childish, causing you to down your drink before setting off towards the british driver.

it was when you were only a few metres from him that you realised you should probably have a game plan, and if he hadn’t locked eyes with you there was a high chance you would’ve backed out. turned around and walked away.

instead you were left to improvise.

“good job today,” you smiled widely when you got into ear shot; unable to shake the tightness in your chest, feeling suddenly out of breath as if you had sprinted over here.

lando appeared much more relaxed than he had last time you spoke. which made sense. he’d put it on the podium, why wouldn’t he be in a good mood?

“thank you,” the driver grinned, unable to be stumped when he was still running high off adrenaline. plus, he figured you would pretend the other evening never happened. which he would happily take.

your script ended there however. you had no idea what to say. or where to look, since when was eye contact with lando hard?

“impressive from carlos,” lando managed to fill the silence, and you could feel the relief at the fact he’d saved you from creating an awkward silence.

“yeah, yeah i know. very proud of him. i’ll never complain about pain again.” you spoke through a dry laugh; one he mirrored, your lips pursing as you attempted to think of something, anything, to fix the mess you found you guys in.

to apologise for your rudeness? to explain your mindset? to just talk. you needed to talk to him, for your own sanity.

“look i just wanted━” you finally built the courage up to speak, but were interrupted as a blonde woman slid next to lando’s side, handing him a drink while doing so.

it shouldn’t have shut you up so quickly, but it did ━ eyebrows raising as you attempted to figure out how to respond to the image in front of you. one you’d never seen before actually.

“line was long,” the girl hummed in explanation, and you only just caught lando’s sorry eyes as his attention turned to the girl next to him.

he would be lying if he said he didn’t appreciate the lifeline that was the blonde he’d just met 20 minutes ago. he did not need to hear your reasonings as to why you should just remain friends, not tonight.

“i’ll um, i’ll talk to you later.” there was no way you’d try get your words out again, not when you barely spoke up the first time. yet for some reason, you’d hoped lando had insisted you could speak now.

instead left to watch as he nodded and offered you a small smile; practically sending you off on your way.

embarrassment was the one word to describe how you felt as you made your way to the nearest booth, attempting to hide away and let the darkness swallow you whole.

apart of you felt you should be grateful, maybe being interrupted was a saving grace. god knows what you were about to say, you definitely didn’t. but right now you found yourself in the same position as you were 5 minutes ago.

it felt selfish. lando had practically admitted to having feelings for you, that’s what you gathered at least, and you’d been unaware for years.

you’d been slightly uncertain in your feelings for five days and you felt as if you were losing your mind. you had no right for an explanation really, but you needed something. attempting to decipher everything to do with the main man of mclaren was giving you a headache.

although your vision became a bit clearer as you sat and watched him interact with the girl who’d placed the drink in his hands.

it suddenly made sense why you hadn’t seen him like this before. his attention was always on you, his efforts and time focused towards you if you were in arms reach.

which you couldn’t help but feel grateful for as you sat and watched your new personal hell.

you didn’t want to label it as jealousy. because that would be ridiculous, but it was beginning to be hard to watch the way lando whispered in her ear and grinned widely as he earned a laugh or two from the girl.

were you mad at the sight or mad at your own reaction? you weren’t sure. it felt wrong, to feel so strongly when only a few days ago you’d laughed in his face about the prospect of being with him.

what was it they said about you only want what you can’t have?

“it should be illegal for you to be sitting here moping after i’ve won.” carlos’ voice snapped you from your thoughts, being met with the driver who slid into the booth opposite you, a sheepish smile forming on your features.

“i’m not moping.” you huffed, leaning back in your seat ━ attempting to look and feel relaxed, allow your tense shoulders to loosen, glancing back to lando once more before your attention was on the driver ahead of you.

“you have been all week.” carlos disagreed, eyebrow raising as you frowned; not having a reply because he was right. and suddenly you felt horrible.

“i’m sorry━ that’s the last thing you need with the couple weeks you’ve had,” you sighed, head falling into your hands. it was as if you suddenly couldn’t do anything right.

you missed the way carlos smiled, having looked at the direct reason of your problems moments prior.

“don’t apologise.” carlos dismissed, assuring you it was fine; and when you peaked up through your hands, the smile he was flashing you was enough to put your mind at ease. “i’m assuming lando said something.”

there it was. lando. again. back in your head. as if you ever got him out.

you only sighed, head falling back this time as you now stared at the ceiling. of course carlos knew.

“you knew?” you huffed out, it clear you already knew the answer.

“everyone does.” carlos chuckled, and you wish you too could take amusement from the situation. how comforting, this whole time you’ve either appeared as an idiot or the biggest bitch.

“why wouldn’t you tell me?” you practically whined, looking back at the driver once more; watching as he put his hands up in defence and innocence.

“i thought you knew.” carlos claimed, sounding so honest you couldn’t question him ━ nor blame him. you shouldn’t have needed someone to spell it out for you. plus, you’re not sure what you would’ve done if you did know.

because it wasn’t like you were handling the current situation very well.

you had no answer, just left him to watch as you sat wallowing in self pity. you should’ve never chased him to the bar.

“he’ll be fine. look at him, moving on already,” carlos attempt to comfort you was more like a punch to the stomach ━ because you had to stop yourself from glaring at him. had to stop yourself from spitting out how that wasn’t what you wanted.

you didn’t want that at all, and that thought was suffocating. you were in no place to come to terms with your feelings, but right now they seemed to be demanding to make themselves known.

“i need air.” you huffed as you stood up, thankful that you had taken notice of the smokers exit not too far from you.

the crisp air felt like a soothing blanket, hitting your skin the moment you got outside. the balcony was empty and finally you felt as if you could breathe; allowing your arms to rest against the railing as the music became muffled and the sound of melbourne’s night life filled your ears.

it felt stupid, staring across the city skyline as if it would answer your questions. maybe the stars could align and write out a solution for you, tell you what to do.

but with every passing second you didn’t find any clarity or idea on what to do, how to feel. you shouldn’t want him. you haven’t wanted him before. it isn’t fair to suddenly feel so drawn to him after unknowingly rejecting him for so long.

but it was the reality. you’d been exposed to the idea of lando wanting you; and with every passing moment it became clear to you it wasn’t weird. it sounded fucking incredible.

the music suddenly filled your ears again, moments later becoming muffled as you became aware someone had joined you outside. it wasn’t till they spoke that you tensed up.

“it’s cold out here,” his voice was instantly recognisable, you didn’t need to look at him to know it was him.

“too hot in there.” you hummed simply in reply, feeling his presence next to you as he joined you in observing the city skyline; although you could feel his eyes burning into the side of your head.

falling into a comfortable silence was the last thing you expected, both too scared to speak up and face the inevitable. if you could stay like this forever you would. it was the first few moments of peace you’d known all week.

“we can pretend the other night never happened. i don’t want things to be weird.” lando spoke, words so soft as if you’d break. as if he needed to be careful with you.

his whole demeanour had you frowning, turning to face him. he shouldn’t be fixing this mess, nor prioritising your feelings over his. not when both of you had neglected his for so long.

you parted your lips to disagree, to tell him that was the last thing you wanted. you wanted to talk about it. it’s all you needed to do.

but quickly you realised that was contradicting your initial thoughts.

“if that’s what you want,” you spoke through a breath; unable to understand how you still couldn’t find the right thing to say when this very conversation has been the only thing on your mind all week.

it was lando’s turn to stay quiet, you watched as he thought through what to say; practically seeing his mind tick.

“i just want to know why it’s so ridiculous to you.” lando practically blurted the question out, as if he was almost afraid he wouldn’t say it ever if he didn’t now. it’d been weighing on his mind, it killed him that he had no explanation as to why you were so against the idea of him in anyway that branched further than platonic.

and while you wanted to give him an answer, you didn’t have one.

“i don’t know.” you answered truthfully. “i never looked at you that way lando i…” you trailed off, eyes getting lost in his when you realised just how close he was. your admiration these past couple days from afar was one thing; but up close was a whole new ball park. “you were like this little kid, i don’t know,” you struggled to articulate your thoughts.

“yeah five years ago,” lando’s response was quick and blunt; even with the chuckle that escaped under his breath, it didn’t lessen the intensity in his eyes that were now pouring into yours. it was as if he’d been wanting to say such thing for years. he was challenging you.

you’d gulped at his words, because he was right and you’d only come to terms with such thing these past few days.

“yeah.” you mumbled in agreement, suddenly feeling small under his gaze; it was all so new. you’d been in this position with lando countless of times, why did you suddenly feel as if every nerve inside of you was being set alight? why did you feel as if you couldn’t dare look away from his eyes.

you could spot the moment lando realised the change in your behaviour, the way his eyes flickered across your face; his lips parting ever so slightly as he took a breath.

he recognised the look on your face, purely because it’s how he would always look at you.

“it fucking sucked you know? having to sit there while you laugh at the idea of spending the night with me. even just going on a date with me.” lando hummed, voice barely above the whisper because with the minimal distance he didn’t need to speak any louder. although if he spoke any quieter you’d be worried you wouldn’t hear him over the sound of your rapid heartbeat.

you didn’t know what to say, head tilting aside ever so slightly as you watched him take a step closer; dangerously close now yet for some reason you found yourself leaning further towards his frame ━ and the moment you let your eyes flicker to his lips you knew you were done for.

“m’ sorry,” you mumbled; eyes pouring into his once more as if that would ensure he knew you meant it, but he didn’t want nor need an apology. but god would he love an opportunity to change your mind.

it was as if you could act without thinking again the moment his hand cupped your cheek, lips pressed onto yours in a rush that had your hand moving to find a grip in his shirt.

you didn’t know how to describe it, but suddenly everything made sense as your lips moved together in perfect sync.

the moment almost came crumbling down however when lando pulled away only a few moments later, heavy breaths as his hand remained on your cheek; eyes looking down at you as if you were gods greatest gift to earth.

but as much as this felt like heaven, lando knew he couldn’t risk this just being a one time thing. he refused to get a taste of you just to be starved again.

“if you don’t━” lando barely got his words out, you had him read; could see the doubt beginning to creep in. as much as he hated being vulnerable it was almost self perseveration.

thankfully however you didn’t give him much time to worry, shaking your head before tugging him closer to you ━ reconnecting your lips with such certainty lando had no room to fear or doubt you.

it was all he needed, the lid was off and he finally could act on his wants ━ hands moving to grip your waist as he trapped you between himself and the railing, lips moving against yours without a care in the world that anyone could walk out and see.

it was as if the kiss was the answer to all your questions, suddenly it all made sense. lando made sense; you felt stupid, how had you denied yourself of such thing for so long?

your hands were tangled in his hair, his were clutching your sides for dear life ━ large hands pawing at your waist then your hips, having to stop himself from getting too greedy and travelling any further.

so caught up in him you quickly realised you needed to breathe, pulling away momentarily; yet you had no time to recover as lando only busied himself with peppering kisses on your jaw.

naturally you tilted your head back, a sigh of content escaping you as you invited him to explore more of you. and lando was not going to ignore such thing, soft kisses now pressed to the skin of your neck.

suddenly you were incredibly aware of the closeness, the way his body was pressed against yours; the cold railing behind you doing little to cool your hot skin; his knee pressing between your thighs having your eyes fluttering shut.

heaven was the only way to describe it.

but really you were on the smokers balcony of a crowded melbourne club, a reality that hit the pair of you as the door swung open and laughter and chatter was suddenly heard.

your eyes flickered to the group who appeared, lando regrettably lifting his head and glancing over his shoulder. the group was unbothered by your presence, you weren’t sure the pair of you were even noticed.

lando’s grip had tightened on your waist ever so slightly, as if you could slip away from him like the moment had.

“we should get out of here,” you spoke through heavy breaths as your eyes met his, watching as his lit up with both relief and eagerness. he only nodded, taking a step backwards as his hands ran over his now crinkled shirt.

the pair of you may had gotten yourselves together in those few seconds, but as you worked your way through the crowded club towards the exit, it was quite clear what had occurred.

the elevator ride only caused swollen lips and messy hair, and you struggled to keep your hands off of him once in the back of a taxi ━ kissing him was addictive, that’s the only thing you could think of right now.

the silence wasn’t awkward as you stumbled into his hotel room; only the sounds of quiet laughter as he struggled to find his room key. small curses escaping his mouth as he failed to move in the urgency he was currently feeling.

it was messy the way you both discarded your shoes and belongings, a few words and mumbles exchanged before he was tugging you into his chest again ━ lips once more reconnected.

the space allowed you to wrap your arms around his neck this time, body practically melting into his hold. you wanted to apologise again, explain your thoughts over the last few days, how your change of heart had occurred.

you weren’t even sure it was a change of heart; more so just now thinking about new possibilities.

but lando seemed to be the thing that could put those thoughts at bay, finally your mind was silent ━ all senses consumed with the man in front of you.

you weren’t sure which wall he’d backed you against but you didn’t care; welcoming the familiar feeling of his lips on your neck once more ━ taking the few seconds of your brain not being foggy to tug on the end of his shirt before trying to push it up his body.

he got the memo, ridding himself of his shirt and you could feel your breath get caught in your throat at the sight of his toned torso.

“what do you want?” lando’s question was matched with an intensity that almost had you squirming, his knee pushing between your thighs once more as you peered up at him.

you were suddenly lost for words, unsure how to vocalise what you wanted.

him. just him. anything he had to offer.

the feeling of his finger running up the side of your leg gave you plenty of ideas; but you were too flustered to articulate such thing.

the sight of you dumbfounded had him letting out a breathy chuckle, eyebrows raising in expectance ━ yet somehow it just had you squeezing your legs together.

“anything.” you mumbled, cheeks a tint of pink as he only smirked at your answer; you hadn’t realised how desperate you sounded. you weren’t sure you’ve ever sounded so needy.

“gotta be more specific pretty,” his grin told you he was revelling in your flustered state. how could he not? his mind was running wild with plans to have you a needy mess all for him.

the term of endearment was new, a boundary that had never been crossed in your friendship; yet it sounded so natural. what wasn’t natural was the way your heart seemed to flutter at the compliment.

“want me to touch you?” lando was almost mocking you as his hand moved to push your hair back out of your face, cupping the side of your head while doing so to ensure your eyes stayed trained on him ━ and the mere act had you falling further into submission.

it was pathetic, you were somehow able to identify such thing ━ standing here with parted lips and wide eyes, having nodded at his words almost too eagerly. you needed to control yourself, at least for now; he’d barely touched you yet.

“what do you want?” your words were no where near as confident as his, but you weren’t complaining; the confidence suited him, it only had you wanting him more.

you watched as his shoulders lifted in a slight shrug, attempting to keep your mind off his finger that was dangerously close to the hem of your skirt.

“want to ruin you so you’ll only ever think of me if another man touches you.” lando was honest with his answer, you hadn’t expected such words to escape his mouth. such bluntness, what sounded like a promise had your knees feeling weak ━ the idea sounding perfect to you.

but he wasn’t finished.

“want you to cum on my fingers.” he added quietly, your legs spreading ever so slightly as his hand finally ventured under your skirt. “then my tongue,” he practically chimed; head ducking down to your neck now, his hot breath fanning your skin.

thinking was only getting harder, his words were turning your mind into a puddle, much like the state of your undergarments.

“then my cock.” he concluded before paying extra attention to the skin on your neck, kissing intently as you let out a shaky breath.

attempting to process such words from him was difficult, but you were quick to figure out it sounded incredible to you.

“hm?” his hum was a taunt, head lifting to look at you once more, watching as you nodded quickly.

“please,” you practically whimpered, god you’d get on your knees and beg. lando almost groaned from the word leaving your lips alone, the way you were looking up at him with doe eyes had a grin forming on his face, one you mirrored for a brief moment.

the man couldn’t believe his eyes, a sight he’d dream of too many times was in front of him in the flesh and he wanted nothing more but to make sure you too would never forget these moments.

his lips returning to yours almost had you failing to notice the way his hand slipped under your skirt, finding your soaked panties with ease. he groaned into your mouth as he realised how wet you were, your only reply a slight tug on his curls.

light and teasing touches were only tolerable for so long, you could deal with his fingers dancing around your clothed folds while his lips stayed on yours ━ but when he pulled away your breaths became irregular, clinging to every ounce of patience you had.

you were about to whine when his hand pushed your panties to the side, slipping a digit inside of you without warning was enough to have you choking out a moan ━ hand flying to grip his bicep to ensure your legs wouldn’t give out on you.

lando was watching you as if you were gods gift to the earth, thumb settling on your clit naturally that within seconds of him getting to work your eyes were fluttering shut ━ head falling back against the wall.

“you’re soaked baby,” his words were barely audible; too in awe of you, but you still managed to catch them as you nodded ever so slightly.

“for you,” you breathed out ━ not that it needed clarifying, but the reassurance had the driver smirking proudly, even rewarding you as suddenly a second finger slipped inside of you.

for him. lando would never had thought that would ever be possible. if he wasn’t so focused on getting you off he’d be replaying those words in his mind again, and again.

suddenly it was becoming hard to keep quiet, strings of moans and whimpers escaping you in succession, causing lando’s pants to feel incredibly tight. but that was the last thing on his mind, holding you against the wall with the only goal of having you come undone in his grasp.

his name sounded heavenly as you moaned it, so much so lando thought no one else should ever speak it again ━ nothing would compare to that.

“look at me.” lando’s demand was so calm you almost missed it, eyes still fluttered shut as your thighs squeezed around his hand. despite hearing him you couldn’t act, control of your body slipping away ever so quickly with the way his thumb was circling your sensitive bud.

lando’s breathy laugh wasn’t enough to capture your attention either, his touch was all your mind could focus on. so it was when his free large hand trailed up your body to wrap around your neck that your eyes fluttered open.

his eyes were inquisitive, clearly attempting to gage a reaction to the action which had your lips parting despite having no pressure applied. however it was the way you clenched around his fingers that told him enough.

the slight squeeze of your neck was enough to draw a moan out of you, and lando could only hum in content. you were fucking perfect.

it was quickly becoming overwhelming, pleasure suddenly building so quickly ━ eyes pouring into his as you struggled to form words.

“close,” was all you managed out; lando’s nod was in sync with his curled fingers ━ your nails digging into his skin as he brushed the spot that had your legs almost giving out.

you were holding onto him for dear life, moans growing louder and whinier as your vision started to become starry despite having your eyes open.

“let go baby,” his words were enough to push you over the edge, releasing onto his fingers as you practically panted his name like it was a prayer.

lando had concluded a long time ago that he couldn’t fall for you more than he already had; but as he watched you come undone, he realised he’d been wrong. your beauty truly knew no ends ━ and he was only now more eager to watch your face contort in pleasure again and again.

admiration filled your own eyes as they opened once more to peer up at him, flushed cheeks and a sheepish smile spreading on your face as you attempted to catch your breath.

“you’re incredible,” lando couldn’t stop the praise from escaping him, and watching the way your smile grew had him feeling no regret either; no shame like he usually would when a compliment perhaps too sentimental slipped passed his guard.

however this time it was reciprocated, you could see the meaning behind it ━ not dismissing it as a friendly comment, instead it had your already flushed cheeks reddening further.

“you are.” you spoke like it was obvious, even letting out a small giggle ━ sounding somewhat out of breath but such thing was granted. your arms moved to wrap around his neck again, both to ensure he stayed close and because your only strength was in your arms.

your legs already felt like jelly.

he’d read the situation with ease, because suddenly his hands were hooked under your thighs ━ halting you up as your legs instinctively wrapped around his torso.

your skirt was bunched at your hips, ruined panties almost shameful. your hands spread out against his toned back, unable to help yourself from feeling as much of his flexed muscles as possible.

messy kisses were exchanged as he moved you through the hotel room, lips lazily moving against each other before your back was hitting his plush mattress.

the sight above you rendered you speechless, no shame in your eyes raking over his frame as he stood at the foot of the bed ━ you quickly felt overdressed.

your own hands found the hem of your shirt, peeling it off your body, no bra meaning your upper body was exposed to the brit.

you could visibly see him gulp, his eyes dancing over your half naked frame as he took a few deep breaths; tongue flicking over his bottom lip. the man even shook his head in disbelief, unable to help himself when you invitingly leant back on your elbows.

he was on top of you within moments, situating between your spread legs as his head found the exposed skin of your chest, open mouth kisses pressed to your neck, slowly making their way to your breasts.

“you’re fucking beautiful.” he’d practically grumbled, your fingers finding his curls once more you could only whimper as his teeth tugged on your skin momentarily.

“want to make you feel good,” you whispered, unable to ignore his hard on pressing into your hip ━ the feeling had you squirming, keen to feel more of him.

he’d shushed you however, not being derailed as his kisses moved to your stomach now, your head hitting the pillow as you tried to control your breathing ━ left to stare up at the ceiling momentarily.

“i feel amazing,” lando spoke matter of factly, his hands spreading over your thighs as he parted them to his liking ━ your eyes flickering down, not expecting to meet his blue ones.

he looked like he was ready to devour you, it made your core practically ache ━ offered no relief as your legs could only squeeze against his hold.

he was quick in removing your skirt, and your panties ━ having you bare for him before he was hooking your legs over his shoulders. but his urgency seemed to still there, kisses pressed to your inner thighs instead of your glistening cunt.

“lando,” you’d whined, using all your strength to ensure you could keep your eyes on him, a pretty sight that was rendering you impatient. “please,” the plea left you in desperation.

you could still feel his breath on your thighs, not where you needed him, and when you heard him chuckle lowly your eyes had to press shut to keep your composure.

“oh baby,” he dragged out; cooing so sweetly your eyes narrowed when they met his again. “needy little thing,” he commented; quirking an eyebrow your way and you couldn’t argue, only pout.

he wasn’t wrong, much to your surprise. you’d never found yourself in such position, needing and craving someone so badly. depending on someone else for pleasure was practically foreign.

“not gonna make you beg,” lando ended your torture, if you could even call it that, mouth connecting with your cunt and your jaw dropped as his tongue quickly found your clit.

you were already sensitive, back arching immediately as you moaned out softly ━ hands flying to find his curls again.

pure ecstasy was the only way to describe the feeling, his tongue working so perfectly that you were fighting to not press your thighs against his head ━ body moving with every action, his hand moving to press down on your hips and keep you in place.

your eyes caught his own for a mere few moments, seeing him look up at you however had your own eyes rolling back; too sensitive to stay cool with the onslaught of pleasure.

he was everywhere, consuming every one of your senses ━ tugging on his curls your only outlet as you moaned and shook.

you weren’t ever sure you’d be able to cum from head alone, but you were about to find out ━ pathetically close already, stomach tightening having barely recovered from your first orgasm.

you forced yourself to gaze down at him again, wanting to see his head between your thighs ━ watch the way his arms flexed as he held you in place with ease.

his tongue was flicking between your folds, then paying attention to your clit; never missing a beat, it flood over you suddenly.

you could no longer hear the sounds you were making as you came again, back arching off the bed once more ━ seeing stars, lando sure to catch the sight as you came undone for him again.

it was a blur the next few moments, not present as lando shifted your legs off of his shoulders and back onto his knees, but once you realised the sight in front of you it didn’t take long for you to push yourself up the bed so you were sitting up.

“you good?” lando’s voice was soft now, ensuring you were okay; not oblivious to your tired body. you nodded however, a lazy smile spreading on your lips in reassurance, hooded eyes taking him all in. you just wanted to feel all of him.

“perfect,” you breathed, leaning forward to connect your lips without another word. it was greedy, a few moments of no contact and you were drawn to him again. you just wanted more and more, and the way lando’s hands flied to your waist showed it was truly reciprocated.

you pushed him slightly to sit down, switching positions so he was resting against the headboard now ━ it didn’t take much force, he was letting you guide him, hands delicately roaming your fatigued frame.

climbing into his lap your hands made quick work of his pants, unzipping them and moving all material out of the way to finally free his hardened cock.

lando moaned into your mouth the moment your hand wrapped around his length, pumping a few times was the relief he’d been ignoring since you entered the hotel room.

he struggled to kiss back for a mere moment, causing your eyes to flutter open, lips curving upwards at the sight of his face contorted in pleasure.

fuck you could get used to that image.

“come on baby,” lando rasped out as his hands found a home on your hips ━ guiding them upwards ever so slightly. “fuck yourself on my cock yeah?” there was a slight smugness in his tone; the type that had you falling into submission once more, despite him vocalising your plans.

your arms moved to hold onto his shoulders, enough to help steady you as you guided your hips on top of his, lowering yourself down onto his cock.

the pair of you gasped in sync, your forehead resting against his as you took him all in at once, jaw going slack from the stretch.

you stilled, needing time to adjust to his size ━ and lando had no complaints, the feeling of you wrapped around him having him content.

“you feel fucking incredible,” the driver rasped, lips brushing against yours as he spoke; and you could only whimper at first, a few deep breaths escaping you.

“so big,” you mumbled; having to swallow intently before mustering the energy to begin moving ━ eyes pouring into his as you began to ride him.

the closeness and intimacy would usually scare you; heck, it would normally terrify him. yet somehow it felt right, as if this wasn’t the first time between the pair of you.

your nails dug into his skin once more as you shifted up and down, lando’s hands only on your skin to ensure he had a hold on you ━ letting you set the pace as he watched, jaw tense and eyes adoring.

“fuck lando,” you whined when he’d bottom out once more, hitting a spot so deep inside of you that your toes were curling ━ the sound of his own grunts and moans only adding to the pleasure.

“doing so good for me gorgeous,” his praise only encouraged you, words so delicate. you sped up as much as you could, not too fast but with more urgency than before; as much as your sore body would allow.

it wasn’t long before you started to tire, your moans grew whinier but you didn’t need to say anything ━ a choked moan escaping your throat when his hips suddenly thrusted up to meet your movements.

you hadn’t thought you could feel more full but you were wrong, and lando didn’t relent as he started fucking up into you.

you were like a doll in his hands, as he started to practically move you up and down his cock; his own hips continuing to thrust up you couldn’t keep up, eyes screwing shut as your mouth fell agape.

“fuck lando fuck,” you were practically chanting; a string of curses and his name; it all felt too good. fucking perfect, you couldn’t comprehend any of it.

“take it baby.” he grunted, and you nodded so quickly as if you’d ever disappoint him, fingers reaching to his back and nails dragging across the skin ━ his thrusts harsh, not slow but not too quick that you wouldn’t have time to feel every inch of him.

your head was thrown back, exposing your bare chest further to him ━ which lando made the most of for the time being, lips ducking down and attaching to one of your nipples for a few moments.

but as your sounds got louder he needed to be able to see your face clearly, hand moving up your back and tangling in your hair to force you to look at him.

“open your eyes princess,” he practically demanded, and at this point you’d do anything he said without question; eyes fluttering open to look at him.

his stamina was impressive, not surprising, still bouncing you on his cock as if it was nothing ━ but the way his breaths got shaky and his hooded eyes revealed he was feeling the pleasure like you were.

“who’s making you feel this good?” lando’s question escaped him without much thought; he just needed to hear you say it. wanted to revel in the fact he had you in such a state. your praise and reassurance held such a high value to him.

“you, lando, you,” you whined out in response ━ and you felt his hand move back to your hip, needing to use your own strength now to keep your head upright. “feels so good,” you told him ━ squeezing him as you did so.

he’d groaned at the feeling, almost having cum on the spot; thankfully he didn’t, because he needed to see you fall apart one more time.

“want to cum again yeah? that you want?” his mouth seemed to know no ends, the taunting only making your stomach grow tighter as you nodded to the best of your ability.

his breaths were heavy now, hands travelling to your ass as he used that as his grip of your body instead.

“wanna hear you say it,” lando grumbled ━ head ducking into the exposed skin of your neck, more kisses pressed onto your skin and the thought of marks being there from the amount of attention he’d paid to it was the last thing on either of your minds.

you were struggling now, too fucked out to process his words as quickly as he’d like ━ so much so a harsher thrust upwards had you aware you needed to answer him, yet you already forgot what he said.

“too fucked out to form words baby?” lando teased now that he knew he had your attention; and he chuckled once more when you shook your head quickly. “want to hear you say it.” he repeated, eyes piercing yours.

“wanna’ cum again,” your words were laced with desperation, needing to take a breath between sentences as his cock spread you open. “please let me cum,”

the british driver’s hum of satisfaction turned into a moan of pleasure at your plea, sounding and looking so pretty for him, it was clear you’d done enough as you felt his hand snake down between your bodies to your clit.

your vision went white practically immediately, almost yelping from how sensitive you were; thrown over the edge with little warm as you came on his dick ━ practically screaming his name as you did so.

lando came inside you merely a few seconds later, jaw slack from the sight of you and the way your walls squeezed him once more ━ only now was his thrusts sloppy as you both rode out your highs.

you were practically limp in his lap, forehead pressed against his shoulder as his own head rested against the headboard; heavy and irregular breaths filling the silence.

his hand moved to your head, fingers running through the strands of your hair comfortingly, the action causing you to hum in appreciation.

both of you were content with the silence, purely because neither of you knew exactly what to say. what to do. this was unexpected, to say the least.

you sat up straight after a couple minutes however, eyes meeting his ones; noticing the lack of intensity and confidence they held prior.

he was studying you as well, attempting to not spiral into a ‘what now.’

this meant a lot to him, he wouldn’t put that on you ━ that wouldn’t be fair. but you already had a good idea.

“i was wrong.” you finally managed to say what had been on the tip of your tongue, offering a small smile as his eyebrows raised in question.

he didn’t fully understand.

“about this. us. not making sense. being ridiculous.” you clarified, and the realisation washed over his features. you could feel him tense up slightly beneath you ━ shaking his head quickly.

“we don’t have to talk about it right now,” he assured in certainty. he didn’t want you to feel obligated to protect his feelings because you slept together.

which you appreciated, it was cute. he was thoughtful ━ which shouldn’t be a surprise.

“i’m not promising anything,” you clarified, dismissing him this time; you didn’t feel obligated at all. you weren’t saying you’d be his girlfriend and expected flowers when you woke up, but you needed him to know you no longer stood by what you said. you were also relieved to be able to articulate your thoughts. “but i was wrong.” you hummed.

a lazy smile spread on his features at that, acting like a catalyst for your own. a mumble of an okay and laughter was exchanged, before his lips were on yours again; a gentle kiss this time.

one you could certainly get used too.

━━

a/n: 615 days later and i’ve finally finished another fic. hope y’all r still there 😀😀

incredibly sorry for my inactivity and special shout out to everyone who has continued to support me despite the radio silence??? i love u

anyways i don’t love this but the fact i had the motivation to see it through was enough. hoping it’ll ease me back into writing and getting back up to standard, so apologises that it’s a little rusty 🫶🏼🫶🏼

what hasn’t changed is that it’s currently unedited and the ending is rushed hehe

as always feedback is always very much appreciated love u all mwahhh xoxo

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