#when he returns home he's surrounded by love and care and it's so sweet and nice

[adiadagaki]

babyfever!satoru virtually combusts when you get the OK to bring your son home, the baby carrier in his hand a new beginning, one he owed to you.

babyfever!satoru has all of your presents waiting for you when you get home, and he most certainly went overboard but he has no apologies, there was nothing you didn’t deserve after giving birth to a literal human being.

babyfever!satoru is first to get up when you or your son need anything, the man has springs in his feet and not a complaint in his body.

babyfever!satoru goes above and beyond.

“Toru, he is due a feeding, can you-”

The atoms in the air shift, a brief wave of nausea hitting you as your surroundings blur. You are back home. In your living room.

Looking behind you, you see Satoru fluffing a pillow, your favourite snack and drink on the coffee table and the show you are currently watching playing on the TV.

“Can I get you anything else sweets?”

babyfever!satoru is obsessed with your boobs ever since you started lactating, this man has a greedy mouth and he isn’t ashamed of it at all. He nips, bites, kisses, sucks until your breasts are marked up and so sensitive the lightest brush of air makes you flinch.

babyfever!satoru doesn’t let anybody babysit your baby, and that means no one. He doesn’t care how long he has known them, worked with them or even if they have saved his own ass, he trusts no one with his babies life, but you his perfect little wife.

babyfever!satoru takes time off work for the first 6 months of your sons life, only to become a house husband because you were excited to return to work, and whatever wifey wants wifey gets (he made you go down to part time, but hey is he a monster for wanting his family around 24/7?)

babyfever!satoru is thankful for the life you have gifted to him every day and he will never stop showing you just how much he loves you for blessing him with this reality.

Part 1 Part 2

[t-u-i-t-c]

Tokusatsu x Mother's Day ✿ Day 5 │ Favorite Mother & Son Moment(s) in Toku

Kamen Rider Revice (2021-2022) │01x44 ↳"Daiji! Welcome home!"

[silverskyeline]

ੈ♡˳ imagine life with lumberjack logan . 18+ gn!reader

♡ life with lumberjack logan is peaceful and calm, your love nestled away deep within the woods. no one can bother you here, just you and your man. and he likes it that way, having you all to himself in this safe space he calls home. those wooden walls surrounding you may house you, but he finds his true sanctuary in your arms.

♡ logan wakes five minutes before he knows he has to leave, sometimes ten minutes, long enough to savour your scent and the feeling of your warm body pressed against his. his thick, strong arms wrap around you, grumbling into the back of your neck as he presses soft kisses along your skin. early mornings never bothered him, until it meant leaving you behind.

♡ at work, his thoughts drift to you. wiping the sweat from his brow, he can't help but imagine your sweet smile in the back of his mind. it causes a smile of his own to grow, dampening it before the boys inevitably tease him. they know how whipped he is for you, how he adores you, but logan doesn't mind. though he's quiet in nature, he wants his love for you to be loud.

♡ when he returns home, he catches your scent and like a dog with a bone, he finds you. he pulls you into a tight embrace, burying his face into your shoulder before stealing your lips in a heated kiss. a kiss that tells you how much he's thought of you all day, how much he missed you, how much he loves you.

♡ and it's not long till his thick cock is twitching against you through his jeans, causing you to gasp. he's got you up on the counter in seconds, yet taking his sweet time to remove the material barriers between you. he wants to show you how much he cherishes you, no matter how long it takes.

♡ when he's fucking you? christ, it's like nothing else you've ever felt. so tender yet so rough at the same time, taking you like you're his, because you are his. his cock makes light work of your tight hole, your body remembering his thickness and craving it each time. you call his name as he fucks you hard against the counter, pressing sloppy wet kisses along your neck, and he swears. . . nothing is better than this.

♡ the soft moments are soft, too. he really knows how to take care of you, you're his everything after all. bathing together is one of his favourite activities, slotting you in front of him as he carefully washes your hair, those big paws of his threading through your strands. and sometimes, when he's feeling a little vulnerable - nightmares piercing through the perfect life he has with you, he allows you to wash his hair too. you're slow with him, lathering the soap into his silky strands as he groans and melts against you like the big bear he is.

♡ quiet moments in the night are stolen by the two of you, swaying slowly in the kitchen under the dim orange light projected by the lamp in the corner of the room. his calloused hands are on your hips, your back pressed close to his chest as you feel him smile against your ear. it's so. . . peaceful, domestic, two things logan thought this life would never be kind enough to offer him. and they felt alien, at first. but after years of existing with you, he's come to relax, and perhaps. . . he's beginning to accept that he might just deserve a happy ending after all.

ੈ♡˳ logan promptober day 29 - origins

[beloveds-embrace]

Dukedom au but instead of the men noticing reader post marriage, they already notice her pre marriage like maybe before they went to war and meet each other. She use to be so radiant especially on her debut to society. She dances John and Simon and they were entranced since then. Maybe she likes sneaking out bro mingle with the commons and met Johnny and Kyle that way. Then war happened and many other things by the time they were back they’re not exactly expecting their dream girl to be unmarried, she’s so beautiful why would she be unmarried, besides they have each other now.

Imagine their surprise when they found out not only is she unmarried but rather unpopular in society for one or two petty reasons too.

ANONNNNN I LOVE YOUR MIND

It wasn’t until after his return from the military- when he finally came home with Simon by his side, Kyle and Johnny already settled into their places in his household- that John actually heard the full extent of the rumors surrounding you.

You were barren, they said. Damaged. A woman past her prime who had rejected too many suitors out of pride and was now paying the price. Not docile enough to be a good wife, too much of a spitfire. Hysterical, the last time you had snapped at a man who had gotten a little too close to you. A stain on your family’s lineage, who were trying desperately to marry you off.

Kyle had been the first to bring it up, muttering about what he’d overheard at the bakery one morning while helping Johnny’s parents prepare for the day. Johnny, normally so cheerful, had been uncharacteristically quiet about the whole thing- quiet in that dangerous, simmering way that meant he was ready to fight anyone who so much as looked at you wrong.

And Simon?

Simon had just looked at John.

“Fix it.” he’d said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

But it wasn’t simple.

Not when the love John felt for you had been complicated from the start. Not when Kyle and Johnny and Simon already occupied so much of his heart, and the idea of forcing you to share that space- even with men who adored you already- felt like asking too much.

So he waited, and waited.

He waited until he saw you again, looking so perfectly soft and sweet and untouched by the harshness of the world around you, even despite all the hate-filled rumors aimed your way, it nearly broke him. He waited until Kyle started dropping more and more excuses to see you, until Johnny began dragging you into their outings, until even Simon- gruff, stoic Simon- began pausing to ask how you were doing when he saw you in passing.

He waited until he couldn’t not ask.

And when he finally did- when he knelt before you and offered you everything he had, everything he was, everything they were because he would keep anything a secret from you- you didn’t answer right away.

“John…” You were at a loss for words, eyes shifting to a fro. You could hear your parents practically yelling at you to just accept, no matter what, within your mind.

Your cheeks turned warmer than a furnace, and you lowered your head, gritting your teeth. “Surely you all know that- that I’m not… exactly the best candidate for you.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Your eyes widened, mouth falling open, and he wanted to kiss that expression off your face. Replace it with something happier, brighter.

“It doesn’t matter.” John repeated, voice soft and so painfully fond. “They can say all they want. It’s you who I care about- we care about. Nobody else matters. Nothing else matters, except for your happiness and what you want. So I ask again… will you be my Duchess?”

You bit your lips, ignoring the tiny little voice of your nanny scolding you for your terrible nervous habit. You wanted to accept. You ached to accept.

“Promise me, John,” you breathed out. And he listened, more than anyone else ever has. “Promise me. I won’t ever be a simple accessory on your arm, or a forgotten relic in your home. I won’t be brushed aside, while everyone around me is loved. Please, John. If you can promise me that, then I accept.”

And for John?

It didn’t even take him a second before agreed; already, he could imagine the relief that the others would have, as well.

He could also imagine you, blooming in their home.

[sleepyangelkami]

INDISPOSED d.winchester

𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT - 2.1K

DEAN WINCHESTER X FEM!READER

𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - you always seem to feel more than upset when you're sick. luckily for you, dean's always by your side when you fall ill, no matter the time.

𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - sick!reader, illness symptoms, flu, dizziness, aches, reader's a little emotional, eating?, crying, mention of reader's lonely past, non-sexual nudity, kinda crybaby!reader, (1) use of y/n, slightly ooc dean, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

there's seemingly a tell tale sign of when you're feeling extra poorly, and that's the feeling of water beginning to pool in your waterline.

you couldn't help the dramatics that would take over your body, much less when you find dean sitting in your bedroom, assuring you that it was alright that he'd come home early from his hunt. "you shouldn't have to leave sam alone 'cause of me." you were a sniffling mess at your desk, for two reasons, one being that you were upset and the second being that your nose was so stuffed you could hardly breathe.

"sammy's fine to figure out the rest of this one, baby." dean was sitting on your bed, girly covers and throw pillows surrounding him. "and i don't have to do anything, i'm choosing to be here." dean's voice was all low and soft, the voice he used when you were upset which was seemingly more often than you'd thought.

you heard him shuffle across the room to where you sat on a brown, tattered chair.

he crouched down so he was eye level with you. "come on, sweetheart, you know you're just upset 'cause you feel all sick." his hand was gently tracing your thigh, soothing you from your sniffles. "think you just need to lay down, yeah?"

you mumbled something that he didn't quite catch with a nod.

he waited momentarily but you hadn't made any decision to move. "y/n." your eyes snapped up to meet his. "come lay down."

"okay." was your sheepish response.

dean didn't often call you by your name, he cast it away with all the lovely nicknames he'd picked out for you personally. nobody was baby but his car, until he'd met you. it came so easily, that soft way of loving.

when dean had you finally beneath the blankets, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, half-comforting and half-trying to gauge your temperature.

"where are you going?" your hand reached out for his lower arm.

dean turned down to look at you, a smile softly reaching his lips. "just getting your medication, baby, i'll be back, don't worry." and this time, the kiss pressed against your forehead was purely because he felt like it.

dean was well aware of your inability to take care of yourself. now, he was in no way calling you a nuisance, he just wished you cared for yourself as much as he did. with that being said, he did always love being able to care for you, it was a way that was so different than having to take care of sam his whole life. perhaps it was because this, he wasn't obliged to do, it wasn't expected of him.

he loved taking care of you but if anything were to happen to him... he'd like to know you could take care of yourself, too.

when dean returned to the bedroom, you were passed out asleep against the sheets. the man couldn't help but stop in his tracks.

you were a chatty person, awfully bubbly at times. and dean loved that about you, listening to you babble on about something and when he didn't catch a word he'd ask you to repeat what you said, it was always funny watching as the gears turned in your head, trying to remember.

sometimes you swore you talked so much that you tuned yourself out.

dean didn't though, he listened to every word that spilled from your lips.

but you were chatty with everyone you were close to. god forbid you ever went on a road trip with he and sam.

but with him you could be quiet at times, you still got shy and nervous around him which always made him coo, there was something sweet at the fact you could be so different behind closed doors, so yourself.

and seeing you like this, your lips drew into a pout and pink staining your ill cheeks, well it was rather nice, he thought.

he hated to be so evil as he was to wake you.

"sweetheart." the mere whisper of the name as his hands came down to soothe your arms was enough to have your eyelids peeling open. "sweetheart, c'mon, you gotta take your medicine."

a half-whine fell from your lips as he sat you up against the bed, sitting too so that you could lean yourself against him. dean was suddenly aware of how much hotter your body had gotten. he hadn't been gone long, just a trip to the kitchen to get you a glass of water and the medication he needed, though it'd taken him a while to find it. he had a bad habit of leaving things in strange places and forgetting about it.

he handed you off the capsules and then the glass of water.

"how're you feeling, honey?" the back of his palm pressed against your right cheek then slightly down your top, to your chest. he was like a concerned mother. "you're really hot."

"thanks." you quipped, leaning your hot forehead against his arm and sipping the water he'd given you.

he rolled his eyes at your remark, obviously taking your sickness more seriously than you were. "'m serious, you can't have blankets."

"dean!"

"no."

"dean, 'm cold." you nuzzled yourself further into dean's warm body, a dark grey hoodie coated his form along with black sweatpants, not his usual attire.

"you're not cold." he took your face between his two hands. "you're sick." pressing a kiss against the tip of your nose. you fought the words 'sap' to come from the back of your scratchy throat. "you can have the blankets but i have to take this off, then." you felt him gently pull at the shirt you'd stolen from him, clad on your body.

"deal." you mumbled, feeling a wave of dizziness hit you.

to make matters worse, you shook your head, thinking it would rid of the dizziness.

"hey, don't do that." he steadied your head before taking the glass out from your hands and placing it on the bedside dresser.

you felt his hands on your shirt, slowly pulling it from your frame. you helped by putting your arms in he air, allowing him to pull it off your body and toss it somewhere on the ground.

"want the tv on?" you nodded your head silently as the man rose from his place on the bed, reaching the tv stand where he picked up the remote and switched it on.

aimlessly, you uttered, "my legs hurt." while sliding back under the pretty covers.

he was busy fidgeting with the buttons on the remote. he never did know how to work your tv properly. "'s just cause your sick, it'll go away, baby."

you huffed at his response, laying your head on the pillows while you pulled the blanket close to you. you were cold but it was that sickly cold where you couldn't tell if it was really a chill or perhaps you were so warm that you felt cold, which didn't make a whole pile of sense.

when dean finally climbed back into the bed, your body practically collapsed on top of him.

he laid with an arm behind his neck and the other trailing shapes across your bare back, you lay with your head on his chest, listening to the low tv along with the thumping of his heart.

"are you okay?" you mumbled, voice slick with tiredness. the sickness was weird like that, hitting you suddenly, leaving just as immediately.

dean could have cooed at you. even while you were wrapped up in blankets, sick as a small hospital, you managed to ask him if he was okay.

It was another reason why he liked taking care of you. you took care of each other. "i'm okay."

another hushed mumble. "promise?"

"i promise." he answered honestly, fingers against your skin, moving up and down your back. "get some sleep, 'kay?"

a yawn passed your lips. "okay."

they said sleep was the best medicine, that it cured everything that was curable. well, you weren't sure anyone had said it to you but you just knew that it was said.

you had to beg to differ.

by dinnertime, your temperature was running hot.

earlier was the kind of sick that you could stomach, this was the kind of sick that had you flushed against the headboard of your bed, hands running down your face as you felt your head pound against the back of your eyes.

you could hear dean walk back into the room and you felt guilt soar through your veins.

you knew you were being... difficult to say the least. but you couldn't help it, hot tears gathering at your waterline all over again.

the mattress dipped as dean nudged your arm and you looked up at him with glossy eyes before looking down at the sandwich sitting on a plate in his hands.

"know you said you're not hungry but can you try eat some f'me? 's jam." his tone was all soft and his voice was all quiet. by now, he'd turned off the tv and closed the curtains, noticing how the light had been affecting your eyes. the only light on now was the little lamp sitting on your bedside table so you could actually see your surroundings.

you nodded hesitantly and took the sandwich from him.

dean noticed things about you like nobody else. he very early on found out that you loved jam sandwiches, you loved raspberry jam but you had an awful distaste for strawberry jam so from there on, he never bought strawberry jam on the offhand occurence that you may accidentally use it without looking at the label and get your jam sandwich ruined.

you were halfway through said sandwich when you placed it back on the plate, begging to tear up.

dean immediately took notice of it, taking the plate from you. "wh's wrong, baby? too much?"

you shook your head, sniffling. even the act of shaking your head had you clutching it soon after.

dean tutted, moving your hand away so he could soothe your forehead with a kiss and a gentle movement of his thumb. "poor girl." you heard him mutter under his breath, his brows strewn together in sympathy.

looking up at him, you had those glassy eyes that made his stomach feel almost as nauseous as yours. he didn't have to ask what was troubling you for you answered, anyway, to the silent question behind his eyes. "you're so nice to me."

his heart shattered a little.

it was no supirse that you didn't grow up with much comfort surrounding you and that only got worse as you began to get older. some days, you didn't think you'd ever get the comfort that your body ached for. and then dean winchester walked in, and his one and only goal was to take care of you, was to care for you, was to love you.

so you couldn't help tearing up a little from time to time when you think about the strawberry jam he gave up just for you.

"oh, baby. you're my sweet girl." he pulled you closer to him, putting your forehead against his chest so you could lean your weight on him. "'course 'm nice to you."

he helped you sit on his lap, fully discarding the place wherever his hands could push it to.

then his hands found your body, roaming it with this gentleness yet assertion. you'd put his shirt back on a while ago and discarded the blankets, which he was thankful for. he needed to break your temperature.

you weren't due medication for another two hours and you'd taken all the painkillers you could.

right now, all he could offer was himself.

and that was enough for you.

your arms tightened around his shoulders as you sniffled, tears breaking down your cheeks with a defeated sigh. "hate bein' sick." you uttered, sadness evident in your voice.

"i know, angel, i know." he gently rocked you in his lap, not enough to make your head dizzy but enough to bring you back to the moment, to remind you he was there.

and you stayed like that for seemingly a long time, melting into one another's embrace as if it were the most entertaining thing in the world.

you pressed your flush cheek against the hoodie covering his bare shoulder. the tears eventually dried up and all that was left was your frustrated sighs and mumbles.

"'s okay, sweetheart." he pressed a final kiss to your flushed face. "it'll pass."

and he was by your side as soon as it did.

main masterlist/dean's masterlist

[amourcheol]

ave, general

❝The Eagle of Rome has returned to you at last.❞

historical! au | fluff, smut, crack | 16.1k words

s u m m a r y : after your husband returns from the wars in foreign lands, you could not be more proud to see him be the shining pride of rome. however, even among the celebrations and your own personal news, lee jihoon only wanted one thing—some time alone with you.

c o n t e n t : roman! au, roman general! jihoon, husband! jihoon, father! jihoon, mother! mc, a lot of historical background and roman terms to add historical accuracy, soldiers! bss + wonwoo and chan, this is bss and friends, all of them are so annoying it's a wonder they aren't executed, seungcheol is, in a literal sense, a baby, this is a bullying chan campaign, the soldiers do NOT know how to talk to a baby, domesticity <333 mature content ↠ mentions of loss of loved ones, descriptions of war and death, dirty talk, petnames (my love, my sweet, darling, mea vita), fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), slight exhibitionism, unprotected sex (roman contraceptives are dookie), multiple orgasming, slight aftercare

t a g l i s t : @hyuckworld @gyuswhore @lexyraeworld @moonlightwonu @spooky-goose1003 @dvalitaes @cookiearmy @lllucere @syluslittlecrows @mrsjohnnysuh @fancypeacepersona @thepoopdokyeomtouched @monstacheol @xabsolutelynothingx @kyeomiis @icecream-sundaes @peachytokki @jihanniecheol @ourkivee

a u t h o r ' s n o t e : she is here!! i promised myself i would release this once i've watched gladiator II and she is back...changed woman...i guess this is a belated bday present to jihoon? thank u for inventing music king </3 enjoy reading loves !!

back to masterlist

“WHERE IN JUPITER IS HE?”

The maid whined as she focused on the crowd once more—thousands of citizens gathered across in the Capitol, the road cleared for the procession about to occur. Giddy conversations of every man, woman and child flourished for a mile, and you had to hold onto the girl accompanying you to not be trodden over.

“Careful, mistress!” Myrtia, your servant, warned as you dared take a step at the edge of the hill. “They will be here any minute now!”

You did not listen, holding onto your heavy shawl tighter as you waited in earnest of what was to happen. Rome was a city of chaos, but you did not hear the noise—despite the crowds, the instruments, the chanting, every single voice seemed irrelevant as you stood over the Capitolium. The little houses underneath you swirled around the hill, all evolving the temple behind you, the destination of the people about to be welcomed. Columned buildings made of stone and marble surrounded the crowds, speckled with garlands, its bright colours of vermillion shining in the summer sun. 

A small sigh left your lips. Today was the day he would come back home to you.

“By the gods!” Myrtia let out an excited screech, grabbing onto your arm and pointing towards the empty street, barricaded by the people. “They’re here, they’re here!”

Following her finger, you stared at the scene.

That was when the parade entered. 

Screams of elation spanned across the crowd as thousands of soldiers flooded in tight ranks, accepting the cheers with pride as they marched along, prisoners of war being dragged along by their chains. There must have been hundreds, spanning back beyond your vision, dirtied and haggard, but that was the consequence of challenging the Empire. The soldiers all adorned their red and silver uniform, smiling at the city which welcomed them.

Your eyes scanned the front of the parade, lips curving at the five men on decorated horseback. Each and every one of them had their distinguishable responses towards the people who sang praises to them, and you longed to see them ride up to the Hill where you could greet them.

When your gaze hovered to what rode in front of the men, it widened.

Four horses, adorned in the finest metals and blood-coloured clothing, led the chariot of the same colour, fully festooned in laurels. Gold swirls cemented on its front, making itself heard with its screeching wheels.

It was not the chariot you cared about.

No, it was the man who stood in it.

The man who was clothed in royal purple and gold, holding a laurel branch in one hand and a sceptre in the other. The man, whose wild black hair perfectly settled the golden crown that another beside him held. The man, whose ghost of a smile sent the crowd in absolute frenzy, beginning up a chant to his name.

“Hurrah for the Triumph!”

“Hurrah for the Triumph!”

“Hurrah for the Eagle!”

Your heart stopped to a standstill.

At last. At long last, the Eagle of Rome had come back to its nest.

“Mistress, look!” Myrtia exclaimed, pointing towards the star of the show, the lead victor in this parade. “Your husband achieved the Triumph!”

You glanced at her with unadulterated pride before focusing on the man in front, coming closer in your vision as he began the ride up the hill. The Triumph. A public celebration of a certain general who managed to lead Rome to a special, foreign victory. It meant the destruction of the enemy, complete desolation, which a mere centurion could not simply achieve. To receive the Triumph was to be respected by the highest of the Roman officials. 

You smiled at the notion. The destination for the parade was the Temple of Jupiter behind you, its columns holding up the huge, faded roof, towering over the few beloved relatives of the generals that led the soldiers. “I never doubted he would.”

The crowds grew wilder as the generals journeyed closer, halfway up the rocky hill—everyone opened their doors, leaving their houses to witness the rare spectacle. “Do you think they would let us speak to them?” your maid wondered out loud, following your steps as you turned your back, walking to the Temple. Standing right beside the steps, upstaged till they reached your height. “Gods, I forgot how big the temple is sometimes!”

“Wait here,” you said, holding onto the polished stone as you climbed up the steps. The thundering sounds of hooves on cobblestone entered your ears, and the few other relatives which accompanied you silenced, joy in their faces as the parade ascended. You turned before the show, the entire building shading you with its presence.

There he was.

With his four white horses slowing, neighing wildly at the company that arrived at the hill. With his red and golden chariot inciting excited Latin from the crowd, there he was, swiping past in front of his friends. The horses finally stopped, just before the steps, and the generals behind him followed suit, halting their own as they waited for their commander.

Their commander let go of the reins—stepped down from the chariot, purple robe flowing after the steps. The head that wore the crown turned to the Temple, laurel and sceptre still in his hands.

His calculating eyes skimmed the crowd, face exposing a little pride at the turnout.

He then faced his destination—right on you his stare settled, standing alone at the entrance.

You swore you saw his entire body still.

You were not wrong. The commander parted his mouth, eyes widening with who welcomed him past the steps. Gods, he nearly dropped the possessions in his hands, staring and staring at the woman.

No, not just a mere woman.

But you, his wife.

One of the generals, instantly noticing their leader’s change, got off his horse, same black hair glinting in the sun. He walked over, taking the objects from his hands, smiling knowingly. 

When the leader’s hands were free of the spoils, he willed his feet across the sanded street, first step atop the stairs. His gaze never wavered, unable to stray from the woman who haunted his nights. 

You, however, could not wait at all.

A choked sob escaped you as your own feet dashed forward, barely able to control themselves as you ran to him. His arms began to raise as you collided against him, wrapping your hands around his neck and crying into his purple-clad chest.

“Missed you...Jihoon…” your muffled murmurs slipped into his attire. “Missed you...so much.”

You felt strong arms envelop you, a rough-hewn face burying into your shoulder. “I thought of you everyday, mea vita.”

Mea vita. My life. A smile caught onto your tears as you hugged him tighter. “And I thought of you every night.”

He returned it, feeling his lips curve upon your skin. Placing a small kiss, he pulled away slightly, only to take your face with one of his hands and lean in closer. Enveloping your lips with yours, he kissed you with the longing of a thousand lost souls, finally returned to their other half. 

A soft groan threatened to leave your captured mouth, but then you felt your husband pull away, hands upon your waist. “I must stop here, my love, or I would not be able to stop afterwards.”

Cheeks burning, you did not let go of him. “Are you not finished?”

Shaking his head, he looked beyond you, to inside of the Temple. “I have to pay respects. It is the final part of the ceremony.” He turned to you again, aching to take you before the sacred grounds. “I cannot have you waiting for me that long.”

You were to object until the raven-haired boy behind him spoke up, waving his hand about. “We can escort her home, Jihoon,” he suggested, patting his general on the shoulder. “We do not need to go inside.”

“Are you sure, Wonwoo?” your husband asked, looking towards the other four. 

One of the centurions, with straight, cropped black locks framing his face, grinned smugly, holding onto his reins. “Oh, just let her leave with us!” he exclaimed. “We all know she missed us more than your stone-cold arse!”

You chuckled as Jihoon knifed the man with a glare. “A few hours in Rome, and Soonyoung is already a pain in my backside.”

The younger centurion beside Soonyoung scoffed, brown locks being caressed by the wind. “As if he is not a bother for us all.”

Soonyoung mocked a gasp. “Seungkwan!”

“Everyone, quiet down!” Another man declared, eyes closed and head raised in pride. “We all know our Captain’s wife wishes to ride with me.”

Soonyoung began to chortle at the claim. “_____, you might as well walk home than take Seokmin’s offer,” he mused, earning a near-death experience with a dagger thrown at him. 

Raising a brow at the bickering group, you raised a finger. “You know what? I think I shall ride with Chan.”

The said-boy perked up, eyes widening. “Me?” He asked, dumbfounded. “Well, of course, I just—”

“He would fall asleep mid-journey!” Seungkwan complained, crossing his arms. “It is already past his bedtime!”

“Hey!” Chan chimed in, but it did not help that he looked away, trying to stifle a yawn. Seungkwan pointed and laughed, proving his stupid point. 

“Enough!” Jihoon shouted, silencing them all instantly. “If _____ says she wants to go with Chan, then that is final.”

All of them began to complain, but one warning glare from their commander had them quieting like scolded children. Chan, being the one chosen, began to smile in innocent satisfaction, earning the evil wrath of Seokmin and Seungkwan. Soonyoung merely shrugged, whereas Wonwoo put a hand on his chest, heartily agreeing with his commander.

You glanced at the man in charge, looking as ever the victor in his royal robes. “Come home soon.”

Stealing another kiss from you, he squeezed your sides in comfort, smiling in reassurance. “I already am home, vita.”

THE LEGACY COMMANDERS ALWAYS KNEW HOW TO MAKE THE MOST NOISE.

Throughout the half-hour journey, the five men talked of their lives for the near-two years they were away—the battles they had won, and the siege they had laid over Alexandria, where Mark Antony and Cleopatra were finally defeated.

Chan glanced back every five minutes to check you were stable on horseback, urging you to hold tight whenever a rockier road was being taken. You patted him softly where you rested your hands upon him, showing him you were well. “Do not fret over me, dearest,” you assured him, earning an uneasy chuckle from him.

Unfortunately, the few centurions, riding right beside you two, heard your reassurance, and instantly resorted to striking fear. “Hanging onto Chan for dear life will not help you!” Seungkwan remarked loudly. “One wrong bounce of the horse and he is flying off!”

The youngest of the men, on instinct, tightened his hold on the horse, now fearing he would drive his commander’s wife to her death. Soonyoung laughed at the scene, but set his sights on the next youngest down. “Seungkwan should not be talking,” he crowed, galloping further ahead. “Pray tell us, how much denarii did you borrow off Wonwoo to heal your broken leg? You know, after you tripped over a tent rope?”

“Careful, Soon,” Seokmin exclaimed over the horses’ hooves. “Or Seungkwan will not hesitate to call on all the escorts you went bankrupt over in Egypt!”

Soonyoung immediately whirled his head to you, who eyed him incredulously. “_____, it is an exaggeration!” he deflected. “It was only one visit, merely to see what the women were like—!” 

“Is it true, Wonwoo?” you asked, who was fighting back a grimace at his friend’s endeavours. “Is our dear centurion as scandalous as he’s accused to be?”

The answer was swift. “Soonyoung’s cock is as clean as the city sewers.” 

As everyone cackled, the guilty flushing with embarrassment, he quickly switched the conversation to everyone’s adventures while on the road to Alexandria. Soonyoung did most of the storytelling, with Seokmin chipping in with great pride—Seungkwan had to tell the two of them off when they exaggerated their military prowess, while Wonwoo only laughed, narrating the truth of their adventures. Whatever they told you, though, you knew that they came out victorious.

The Legacy Legion was destined for greatness—especially if Jihoon Park commanded it.

By the time they were done, you had arrived at your villa, almost on the outskirts of Rome. The huge estate had been gifted to your husband by his superior, Octavian, who was thankful for the continuous loyalty he had seen from the Legion. Its exterior towered over the five horses, guards opening the gates to let you and your friends inside.

The estate was basked in whites and greys, roof the colour of baked bricks adding vibrancy to the faded walls. When entering, you were met with your bustling courtyard, servants hard at work with preparations for Jihoon's return. Within the four walls were different rooms which served different purposes��you could smell the different breads and meat being cooked on a slow heat, taking their time to be fully made. The boys began to salivate at the aroma, and when you felt Chan’s stomach grumble beneath your fingers you reined in a laugh, waiting for him to heave off before helping you down as well. 

“Take the horses to the stables,” you ordered one of the servants walking past you, who nodded, shouting for other men to come and help him. 

Seokmin groaned as he sniffed the air again, holding his armour-clad stomach. “I cannot take this any longer!” He whined, stomping to where the smell took him. “____, I must have cena now or so help me Ceres!”

“Stop complaining about lunch!” Seungkwan crowed. “I gave you half of my breakfast, and you pinched Chan’s bread too!” 

“Here we go again,” Wonwoo mumbled. He then heard grumbling in his abdomen, and knew he could not argue against his body. 

You watched the absolute creatures in tenderness, and waved them all over. “Come,” you began, walking inside the first door. “I wish to show you something.”

“This better be some roasted boar!” Soonyoung grumbled, earning a jab in the arm from Wonwoo.

The destination was not far, and with one further turn, you ended up in a smaller, yet spacious room, golden sunlight streaming through the windows. You ushered the boys in, taking up the entire space, and they were all about to complain when you showed them.

Every single man in the room melted at the sight.

“By the gods!”

“Tell me it is not an illusion!”

“This is a better sight than roasted boar!”

Laughing, you put a hand to your lips. “Not so loud now! Jihoon is not aware of this yet, and I wish to tell him myself.”

“Of course!” Wonwoo agreed, eyes dancing. “By Jupiter, he would be overjoyed!”

“I hope so,” you voiced out your wishes, glancing at the surprise. 

The boys were about to say more when they heard the distant sounds of thundering hooves near the villa, and everyone stilled. 

“Quick!”

“Everyone get out of here!”

“Seungkwan, move—”

The five greatest centurions of Rome scrambled to get out of the tiny bedroom, rushing into the courtyard where Jihoon now made his entrance, crown still upon his head. He saw the rather guilty exit of his men, and raised a brow at their strange behaviour.

“What are you all—” he was about to ask, but then the boys dashed towards him, each grabbing his arm and pushing him to their last destination. “Wait, hold on—!”

“This is of extreme importance, we assure you!” Wonwoo simpered, knowing his end was near with the behaviour he and his friends upkept. 

“Even more important than lunch!” Soonyoung added.

“Even more important than roast boar!” Seokmin chimed in.

Jihoon was about to throw them off when they pushed him into the small room, waving excitedly at you. “We will be looking for food!” Seungkwan called from the door, and Chan looked at you apologetically before following after his friends. 

Watching them busy themselves, he turned to you, cocking his head. “What was all that for?” 

“They are terrible actors, but they had good intentions.” You then bit your lip, glancing beside you. “Actually, they brought you here for a reason.”

“Oh?” He took a step forward. 

Nodding your head, you put your hand upon the stone. “Jihoon, while you were gone, I had a life-changing experience.”

Furrowing his brows, he put his hands on his hips. “And that was?”

Exposing a little smile, you ushered him closer, gazing down at the said-experience.

“My love, I gave birth to our son.”

You felt Jihoon’s world still for a moment.

Within seconds after, he closed the distance to the cot, following your gaze.

There, wrapped in blankets, lay a small baby, lost in sleep.

The general did not know what to say.

He could only watch the little bundle of life as he dreamed of things which he could not understand, tiny lips brushing against his tiny thumb. The man’s heart began to race at the sight of his closed eyes, the flutter of his lashes as he stirred in slumber. 

So innocent the baby was—so vulnerable that he wondered whether people of his time even knew what innocence meant.

He thought all good had withered from the world till his eyes beheld this child. His son.

“It was he that helped me cope with your absence Jihoon,” you continued, and you did not know why it began to hurt to talk. “You see, the boy looks so much like you.”

Your husband’s eyes flickered to you, catching the melancholy in your stare. He knew—of course he knew how you felt about him hardly being here.

You could not blame him, though. With a position of such esteem came great responsibility, which he would risk his life to fulfil. It was his honour, his undeterred loyalty in what he believed in, that made you fall so deeply in love with him. Still, you admitted that life was barely liveable without his magnetic presence near you.

He propped his hands on the edge of the cot. “May I...may I hold him?” 

“Of course,” you replied, slowly pulling the boy in your arms, cooing softly so he stayed asleep. When you were sure he was peaceful, you held him out to your husband, who took a deep, shuddering breath.

With shaking hands, he raised them towards his son, feeling the soft cotton of his blanket beneath his fingertips. Staring at Jihoon, you made sure that he would not let go—satisfied, you gave him the stirring bundle.

Another hard sigh escaped him.

The child, on instinct, nuzzled further into his hold, right into his chest, and he knew his answer straight away. His heart fluttered nervously, holding his breath to not wake him. It was so bizarre that his nerves heightened with every second, fearing he would let go—his sword was heavier than this child, yet his hold on him was shaky, uncertain. 

He wondered if he could ever get used to this feeling.

There were sensations he had experienced which brought him immense joy. His victories, his commandeering of the Roman legions, the subsequent victories that were guaranteed under his leadership. His centurions, who, despite their incessant complaining, shouting, general presences, were the catalyst to his success. You, who was behind the man that he was, and became—the reason he breathed. 

A small murmur escaped the little boy, and all the love Jihoon had lost these years had come back.

He was never the one to expose such extreme emotions, but gazing at the baby brought him such…peace. In truth, he had not felt peace in a long, long time, yet the feeling washed over him, like small waves upon the shores of a beach. Each twitch of his fingers, every kick of his feet brought his soul to a standstill, then revived it once more. 

He contributed to this creation. He was half the reason for the slumbering life in his hands.

His stare did not leave his son. “What did you name him, vita?”

Your gaze was rooted to him as you answered.

“Seungcheol.”

Jihoon’s rocking froze. 

His eyes darted towards you, and the pure shock which emitted had your heart breaking. His mouth parted, only for silence to welcome his tongue. 

It was now your hands which held onto the cot.

Seungcheol was not some ordinary name you thought up on the hour of the birth.

No, this name was originally held by the previous leader of the Legacy Legion.

Most importantly, the name was held by yours and Jihoon’s dearest friend.

Choi Seungcheol was a sweet, charismatic boy who had grown up in the same neighbourhood as you and Jihoon. He was the nail in your house of the trio, and the mastermind of the romance which weaved between the two of you. 

He had an incredibly bright future ahead of him. Under Octavian’s army he had achieved the title of primus pilus—the leadership of an entire legion—with all of the boys, including Jihoon, under his command. He was an advocate of justice, and had risked his friends many times for defending the rights of Rome and her citizens against tyrants.

It was these very tyrants that brought about his downfall.

Jihoon was never meant to leave your side these past two years. He was meant to stay in Rome under Octavian, but the rivalry against Mark Antony had crossed lines, and war was about to be waged. Seungcheol, forever the hero, vowed his undeterred loyalty to the former, and promised to shed Mark Antony’s blood.

That very night, the commanders of the Legacy Legion were celebrating the war when a group of assassins launched an ambush—the five of them managed to cut out and leave, but Jihoon was on the verge of death fighting. Your husband was to die that night.

That was when Seungcheol made a sacrifice. 

He hollered at the assassins to fight him, giving Jihoon the chance to escape. Your husband begged him to run, but he knew his friend would not listen. 

When Jihoon saw the dozen daggers slash into Seungcheol’s chest, he could not let the sacrifice go to waste.

It was this act that brought him the rage to accept command of the Legacy Legion. It was this dire need of vengeance that helped him cope with the months of stalemates across Egypt, when he thought Mark Antony was to escape.

It was Choi Seungcheol’s sacrifice that made Lee Jihoon the Eagle of Rome. 

Thinking of this particular past had your vision stinging.

Jihoon scoffed, stroking his baby’s brow. “Imagine how smug he would be now,” he mused, “If he knew we named our son after him.”

The thought had you rasping out a laugh. “Gods, we would never hear the end of it.”

He cracked a smile, gaze never straying from his bundle. He grew silent once again, clamping his lips together. Scared to wake him if he rocked him further, Jihoon settled the boy back into the pillowed cot, blinking back the stinging in his eyes. 

He turned to you, and seeing his change of expression had you stepping closer. “Darling?” you got out, your hands raising to touch his face. “What troubles you?”

Shaking his head, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist. Leaning into your palm, he replied, “Nothing troubles me, vita.”

Then, he pressed a small kiss upon your skin. “I have no more troubles now that I have seen him…and I have him because of you.”

His gaze settled upon you, eyes glossed with teary gratitude. “Thank you, my love, for bringing me peace.”

The words nearly made you cry.

Jihoon did not let you, though, when, with his other hand sliding around your waist, he pulled you to him. He enveloped his lips with yours, and with a whine you accepted him, closing your eyes. The kiss you shared was achingly soft, seething with months upon months of longing—he turned your head slightly, and his lips delved deeper, taking you fully with the strength of a waking beast. 

His hands dug deeper into your sides, feeling the desperation seep into his lips as he slowly pushed you back, your arms closing about his neck, needing him all over you. Sliding your hands within his locks, you revelled in its velvety softness, knowing you could live forever in him. 

The action had your husband humming into your mouth, a perfect incentive as he backed you against the wall, pressing himself fully against you, extinguishing any last atom of space between you two. You could not get enough of him, trying to make up months of his absence in this kiss alone, but you wanted more, needed more, or you would collapse in his arms.

It was fortunate for you that he understood you perfectly.

However, your dear friends did not understand at all, bursting into the nursery in utmost hurry.

Five pairs of eyes rooted to the passionate scene before them.

Chan let out a shrill scream.

You and Jihoon repelled from each other, breathless gasps emitting as both of you whirled your heads to the door. The five centurions gathered at the doorway, stunned at the show that went on before they interrupted.

Seokmin let out a groan, clutching his stomach. “I regret eating that entire boar now,” he rasped out, turning away from the panting couple. Seungkwan elbowed him harshly in the gut, making the former double over.

Soonyoung sauntered in, stepping past you two in mighty fashion. “You both are insufferable!” he yelled, bringing out baby Seungcheol and rocking him in his arms. “Carrying out such atrocities with a child nearby?”

“I apologise for the disturbance, general,” Wonwoo said, glaring at the man who now cooed comically at the baby. “We were just...um, we were to ask ____ of the plans tonight.”

“But y-you seem to be very preoccupied!” Chan added, pulling the men near him away from the door. “So we shall not disturb you again!”

“You should have thought about that before,” your husband hissed. “And what do you mean by plans?”

“For your return,” you answered, smiling a little as you regained your composure. “It has been too long since you stepped foot at home. Of course I am to celebrate.”

“And do we not exist to you?” Seungkwan demanded, armoured hands at his hips. “You include Jihoon only as if we were here in Rome partying this entire time!”

“I wished that were the case,” Soonyoung drawled, stepping beside you, swaying the baby the entire time. “I would rather the company of wine than you foul-smelling bastards anyday.”

Seokmin, recovering, scoffed, pointing a finger at his fellow centurion. “Oh, do let us know then, Soonyoung, who was calling us his dearest friends on the march to Alexandria?”

“That does not count!” he countered, waving off the claims. “I was beyond gone from wine, and everyone spews rubbish when drunk.”

“You spew rubbish anyway,” Wonwoo muttered.

“You are lucky I am holding Jihoon’s child right now, or I would have knocked you out.”

“Just Jihoon’s child?” you crossed your arms. “And what if you were holding someone else’s baby?”

There was a pause at that. “I shall not comment further.”

“Enough!” the general ordered, silencing the bickering group. “Out, the lot of you! Go back to your own homes and leave us alone!”

“But _____ said we can stay here and help with preparations!” Wonwoo voiced out, stepping forward in haste. 

“I never said that!”

“Please, Jihoon,” he continued anyway, “I have no wish to dump all responsibility on her.”

The said-man pursed his lips in thought, clearly in no hurry to keep his friends when he could be using this precious time to continue what he left off with you. Already his hands ached to linger further over your body, but if he was disturbed once again, then he would kill his subordinates without hesitance.

Seokmin stopped his train of thought. “Personally, I have no wish to do housework,” he jeered. 

Your husband then smiled, which was more a flash of teeth. “Brilliant. You can piss off back home, then.” He then directed his threatening stare towards the others. “All of you.”

Five pairs of eyes turned to you, hoping for your objection on the matter. However, you only shrugged, holding out your hands to the man beside you. “General’s orders, I fear.” When a series of groans followed at your verdict, you took Seungcheol from Soonyoung’s hands. “Do not whine like that, friends! I am giving you the chance to have more fun before tonight’s celebrations!”

“Whatever,” Seungkwan grumbled, turning his cloak as he stepped out of the room. “I am off to get more drinks! Anyone but Jihoon may join me.”

“Hey!” the commander shouted, but the men were already leaving, save for Chan, scratching the back of his head. 

Seokmin cocked his head in question at his friend’s stillness. “What are you standing here for, fool?”

“Well, um,” Chan started, his shy gaze levelling with yours. “I am not inclined to wine as of now, so I was hoping if I could...err, linger here and help around…” His eyes widened, raising his hands. “But if it is bothersome I will accompany the others!”

Your heart melted at his timidity. “What are you so nervous for? Of course you can stay. Those four idiots will only be causing trouble the entire afternoon.” 

“And we intend to continue such troubles at night as well!” Soonyoung declared, almost skipping to the entrance. “Honey wine, here I come!”

“Chan, are you sure?” Jihoon asked, gesturing towards the exiting group. “You should rest a little after months of fighting.”

“I am alright, I insist,” his soldier assured him, raising his arms. “Let me take care of the child.” When you obliged, handing him the stirring bundle, he slowed his movements, ever so careful not to disturb him. He darted his gaze over you. “You, uh,” he said, and he chuckled sheepishly, a blush rising upon his cheeks. “You both carry on with whatever you were doing before!”

Before you could say further, the man was hurrying out, forgetting to close the door as he took Seungcheol with him.

You and Jihoon watched him go, stunned at the sudden entrance of the centurions, and then the sudden exit within minutes. You could not help the huff of laughter that escaped you at their antics, catching his attention. “What is the laugh for?”

“Your commanders, darling,” you mused, wrapping an arm around your husband. “They are more bizarre than usual.”

Exhaling through his nose, he returned your embrace twice over, engulfing you within his hold. “My half-witted commanders,” he reminisced, running his fingers across your back. “They are delighted to be back.”

“I can tell,” you giggled out, leaning into him. “I missed them greatly.”

His face ghosted a little smugness. “But you missed me more.”

“You keep convincing yourself of the notion.”

Feeling his laughter reverberating off him, you felt yourself being pulled at arm’s length, looking up at him once more. Your husband leaned in then, gently pressing his forehead against yours. “No one is at home anymore, vita.”

A raise of your eyebrow. “Chan just asked me to stay here.”

“Oh, you know what I mean,” he insisted, brushing his nose with yours. “We are alone...with no one to bother us again…”

Much as you would like to follow his intentions, you feared the state of the pending party. It had been two years since the Eagle and his centurions’ return—their triumph will be celebrated without fault.

“Jihoon,” you murmured, taking great pains in retracting from his kisses. “I must go.”

His lips trailed down to your chin, making your willpower all the more weak. “Can you not spare me even an hour?”

If you could spare him half that hour, you would have gladly indulged him, but the party arrangements awaited. The soldiers, and your general, deserved the best of welcomes.

So you made yourself separate from his tempting hold, taking a few steps away from him. “I cannot offer even a second, my love.”

The man pretended to be beyond upset at your resistance. He waited till your feet landed on the entryway when he spoke.

“Perhaps it was better you did not give me a mere hour, vita.”

You looked back. Leaning against the stone cot, he let his lips curl upwards. “It simply would not suffice.”

The curiosity in your eyes had him further smirking. “I need an entire day to make up for the two years of absence from you.”

It was sheer luck you were holding onto the doorframe. 

“Careful, love,” he cooed, which only had you stumbling further out of the door in shock. His laughter followed you faintly as you left the room, blood rushing to your cheeks in drastic speed.

You hoped ardently, without shame, that he would carry out his intentions.

Then, you aggressively shook your head, heading straight to the kitchens. Not these thoughts at the moment, _____.

You have a party to prepare for.

THE NIGHT OF THE WELCOMING ARRIVED AS QUICKLY AS YOU HAD HOPED.

The guests began to enter your estate as soon as the sun descended on the empire, bringing words of praise and gifts to your husband and his soldiers. Your pride swelled exceedingly at hearing the positive messages, encouraging everyone to drink to their health. The smiles did not cease, widening further when the men and women fawned over your child. They wished for your baby to grow up just like the man he was named after, and you smiled, scared that one word from you would have your tears gushing.

You had everyone lay on their seated beds, surrounding tables filled with nourishment. Orders spilled from your lips to never stop the plates of beef and veal and fish and infinite other meats—tonight, your guests would feast like emperors. 

Eventually, the stars of the legion arrived, howling in celebration at seeing you adorned in indigo-coloured finery. You reckoned that they had drunk a fountain’s worth before showing up here, but you only hauled them inside, showing them to their place—cushioned couches all set up around low, circular tables, food nearly toppling off the edges. 

Seokmin drooled at the sight. “Out of the way, bastards!” He declared, running straight for the bedding in the middle part of the cushioned arc, settling himself nicely before digging in instantly. “Tell your slave Chan to bring us some wine!”

As if on cue, the soldier came rushing in with huge jugs of the featured drink, looking at you. “Is this alright?”

“Of course, Chan,” you said, taking the jugs from him. “Now you lay beside your friends! You have helped me enough.”

“Where is that man of yours, my lady?” Soonyoung drawled, snatching a cup of honey wine from the servants. “He did not accompany us this afternoon.”

“He had to go meet Octavian,” you answered, the rest of the centurions lodging themselves on the cushions. “There were honours he had to receive from him before he could officially celebrate here.”

“As long as he gets drunk with us, I do not mind,” Wonwoo voiced, raising his cup in toast. 

Seokmin, seeing Chan looking around in embarrassment, poured a cup full of alcohol and pushed it in his hand. “Drink up, boy! I am not having you shy away from your victories!”

The latter seemed much inclined to throw away the wine, but his friends began to groan. “Fine, fine, but only a sip!”

Seungkwan downed his cup, sighing into it. “He will never grow up.”

Wonwoo eyed you with concern as he plucked a grape from its pack. “Will you not have a rest with us?”

“You men have your fun,” you insisted. “I will settle when Jihoon comes home.”

Fortunately, that did not take more than ten minutes, you catching the sound of hooves outside the estate. Footsteps sounded from the entrance, and you whirled to see your new arrival.

The primus pilus of the Legacy Legion looked every bit his title—regal, powerful, magical in his purple robes, hemmed with gold as it draped over his loose white shirt, exposed on his right arm. His locks, longer than his hair months ago, curled slightly along his neck, roughening his usual soldierly demeanour.

Squealing, you rushed to him, greeting him with a kiss. “Come, come!” You exclaimed, ushering him inside.

“The general’s arrived!” Seokmin before you with the others following, albeit with more difficulty.

Jihoon directed a soft smile at you before sneering at his friends. “At least finish chewing on your food, you babies.”

“Care about your own baby before calling us such, you prick!”

“You are very lucky you are drunk, Wonwoo!” 

“Sit with them,” you said, tugging him to a free space between subordinates. 

As your husband obliged, he let his curiosity wander. “And where are you off to?”

Your gaze went beyond the dining hall, into the leeways that brought you to the kitchens. “I am a host, dear, and that means making sure all my guests are accommodated for.”

His grip on you was strong. “When will you come back?” He asked, thumb brushing over your hand.

You let your lips slip into a small smile. “Soon.”

And you were off, letting Jihoon’s eyes brush over you instead of his touch.

A few hours into the party and the chaos began.

You knew it was bound to happen eventually, with the amount of wine being consumed—your friends alone downed half the deposits, the consequences of such reckless drinking being exposed by their behaviour.

The centurions’ area was by far the loudest: Seokmin drank to the point he pissed in the jug that stored his wine, Seungkwan then threatening to topple that very jug atop his head. Soonyoung resorted to self-praise in his stupor, with Wonwoo shaking his head, yet laughing uncontrollably at every unfunny quip the former slipped out. Chan giggled as he sipped his alcohol, Jihoon watching all his friends with a full cup in his own hand. 

It was around midnight when you heard the voice of your beloved calling for you. 

“Vita!”

Excusing yourself from your tipsy guests, you walked to your dear men, who were creating a ruckus in your home. You felt soft fingers caress your shin within your dress, and you looked down to see your general smiling at you.

“Sit, my love,” he said, tugging you down to him. “You have made me wait a while.”

“Fine!” You exclaimed with mock exasperation, laying down next to him. 

He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you to him, your entire back pressed against his front. “There,” he whispered, and the proximity of his breath had chills running down your spine.

You hoped he could feel the warmth radiating off you.

“_____!” Seokmin exclaimed, pointing his cup at you in accusation, wine sloshing out and spilling. “I have a bone to pick with you!”

“Oh, gods,” Jihoon cursed quietly.

“So I found out from our esteemed general that you named your son Seungcheol.” The man scoffed. “How could you commit such an action?”

When you raised your eyebrows, he smirked in disbelief, gesturing towards himself. “My lady, I am offended you did not name him after me.”

Wonwoo spit out his drink, unable to control his laughter. Seungkwan poured himself some more, clicking his tongue in amusement. “Gods forbid we have another Seokmin in our circle.”

“Now what is that supposed to mean?” the man demanded, bunching his robes from his arms. 

“I know you are not that stupid,” was his sly answer. 

“Boys,” Jihoon seethed, glaring at the two about to send the estate down with their fists. “Lay off the anger or lay off the wine.”

Grumbling as they broke off their spat, you looked up at the mediator, swirling his cup. “You know you do not have to be a general here.”

Your husband hummed absent-mindedly, lazily running his hand along you. “I know, vita. Can I ever rest, though, when I have such rowdy dogs barking around me all the time?”

Chuckling, you leaned into him, his honey-like scent engulfing you. “Have you drank?”

“Only a little.” You felt a lilt to his voice as he continued. “Sober enough to see clearly how divine you look. Especially in this dress.”

You stilled as his hands began to wander downwards. 

Your voice barely came out as you said, “Jihoon, what…what are you doing?” 

He did not respond, instead adorning a small smile on his face as his fingers ghosted down your body, to your stomach. On instinct you stopped his trail with your own hand, gripping his wrist. “Jihoon!” you hissed. “There are people right beside us!”

“People who do not know what is going on around them,” he added, gesturing to his friends. Sure enough, each and every one of the centurions were out of their minds, save for Chan, who was too preoccupied trying to take away their drinks. 

Jihoon turned to you once more, eyes inviting. “I mean, I will stop if you wish.” His movements turned slower, your hand still on his. “If you have other…pressing matters.”

Your mind could only think of damning whatever ‘pressing matters’ there well to the underworld. Perhaps he could see it too. “If roaming eyes are what you fear,” he whispered, “Then let me solve that problem.”

In a flash, he brought one long slit of his toga, resting the huge sheet of fabric upon you so your entire body was cloaked, along with his wandering fingers. So casually he began his journey once more, widening your eyes with each finger spiralling downwards.

When he reached the spot, shielded only with your silk, his head rested softly against your neck. “There we go.”

He barely grazed the slit, but the very sensation had you squeezing your own hand upon his. “Easy, darling,” he whispered, as if he was not the reason for your change. “I haven’t even done anything and yet you falter.”

“Not my fault you went away for two years,” you hissed. It was a terrible thing to say, really, but your desire was bubbling. Your rationality, in turn, simply had to depart.

The comment only made your husband chuckle. “I was saving the Empire, vita.” His other hand, completely free, occupied itself, his solitary finger ghosting along your skin. “Would you rather I damn the world to the gods and serve at your feet instead?”

“As if you do not already,” you murmured, your hand loosening on his wrist. 

Earning another soft laugh from him, his new freedom had him sliding down further. “And where did this…newfound confidence come from?” he asked, one finger delving into your slit and eliciting a shuddered breath. “I’d only hear gasps from you before.”

His slow endeavours found your clit beneath the silk, and the seething gasp that tore from your mouth had the bastard sighing in satisfaction. “Ah, see?” He continued, his hand upon your shoulder now sliding beneath his cloak. It found refuge upon your breasts, perked from the sheer desire burning inside. “Fuck, I missed, I–” His fingers circled your clit, and you closed your eyes, heart beating rapidly underneath his other hand. 

Your breathing turned harsh, eyes darting to the members of your husband’s legion—completely unaware of the shuddering mess of nerves you had become. “Look at you,” Jihoon sighed out, fastening his fingers. “Acting out with our loved ones under this roof.” Your soft whines were music to his ears. “Whatever shall I do with you?”

“Maybe you should—fuck,” you cut off, your legs tensing, a dull, delicious ache growing at the small of your back. “Jihoon, I—”

Your line of speech was interrupted by another voice. You had hoped it would be your husband, taunting you further into oblivion, but it was a voice of pure concern.

“By the gods, _____, are you alright?”

You blinked back to see Chan, holding two glasses of wine, shaking off Soonyoung’s hands. Your eyes then widened, acutely aware of Jihoon’s fingers slowing, your release fading. 

Sly as an asp, your husband retracted his hands, still under his cloak. “What is the matter, dear friend?”

The centurion had his gaze fixed on you, confused at your state. “Is _____ okay, general? Her breathing, she…it sounds uneven. Even her eyes are dazed.”

Soonyoung, taking the lucky chance of his friend’s engrossment, snatched the wine from his hand, downing the bowl. “She is drunk, you fool!” he exclaimed, loud enough for Wonwoo to double over, cursing his rowdy mouth. “And you should be as well, instead of ruining our fun!”

“My lady, allow me to indulge you with wine,” Wonwoo sang out, trying to catch a jug of alcohol from thin air. 

Seungkwan snorted at his attempts, successfully stealing Seokmin’s drinks and chugging the lot. “Oi, you prick!” The latter yelled, nearly bringing the estate down. His friend merely laughed, calling him names and finishing the rest of the wine.

Chan, glancing for a moment away, focused on you once more. “Jihoon, I fear for _____.”

You feared for yourself too, but not in the manner the soldier spoke of—more your sanity at the pulsing, the near undoing now far from being reached. 

Jihoon pressed a kiss to your temple, smiling at Chan’s words, despite differing intentions. “You worry too much, Chan,” he said, beginning to get up from his cushions, taking you gently into his arms. “It is as Soonyoung says. Mea Vita here has had a drink too much.”

The centurion seemed a little unconvinced, but his trust for his commander outgrew any suspicions. Seokmin scoffed at the couple attempting to leave, shaking his bowl at you both. “And where are the lovebirds off to?” he demanded.

“Lady _____ is tired from the honey wine,” Chan explained. “Jihoon is helping her sleep.”

“Ha!” was the boy’s reply. 

“Are you really that dim-witted?” Seungkwan asked, laughing darkly at the youngest’s naivety. 

“Huh?” Chan glanced at his general.

The general declared to his guests, “I will be retiring with my wife, but enjoy until dawn, friends!”

Cheers arose from every corner of the estate, no doubt eager to live up to his request. Jihoon then rested his eyes on his soldier, who looked up at him with great bewilderment.

He only offered a sly wink before slipping into the hallways. 

Chan’s confusion only deepened. 

Soonyoung spluttered into laughter. “You poor fool!” 

Seungkwan’s smirk was prevalent as, taking the bowl filled with fresh honey wine from the tables, he sat beside Chan, offering him his first drink. “Let us educate you, dear man, on what exactly is about to happen between our general and his wife.”

IT TOOK APPROXIMATELY TEN SECONDS BEFORE YOUR PATIENCE SNAPPED IN YOUR DARKENED HALLWAYS. 

You slapped your hands against Jihoon’s purple-clad chest, and tried to push him back into the stone wall. Of course, when one had the strongest general in the Roman Empire as a husband, physically overtaking them is an impossible action.

Which was why he began to laugh at your efforts before casually taking your wrists, whirling you about.  Suddenly your back was against the wall, with his face near inches from you. 

“Cannot control yourself for even a minute?” He purred, bringing your hands above your head. “Has the journey to our bedroom become too difficult?”

“Stop fucking about with me” you got out, aching to have your hands freed, touch his face, his lips, but he was too strong. 

The man leaned further. “No, vita…it has been too long.” 

He brushed his nose along with yours. “Don’t think I’ll be satisfied with simply fucking you against the wall.”

His words alone had your heart beating faster, eager to see how he would play the night out. It had been far too long since you had felt such promise of pleasure in these years.

“I won’t be either, general,” you mused, and the fire that sparked in Jihoon’s eyes could have very well brought you your undoing then. 

That was enough for him to swoop in, damning all sweetness to the underworld as he collided his lips with yours. 

You swore you could never tire of Jihoon’s lips as he moved hungrily, grip on your wrists tightening. A small noise lodged in the back of your throat, aching to be released but to no avail. His mouth refused to pull away, miss even a moment of how you felt against him. 

The years away made you realise how much you missed his touch—lips in sync, bodies snuffing out any distance left—you had no choice but to whine into his mouth, opening yourself up fully to him. You wanted him all, without a single drop of hesitation.

Feeling the exact same, he happily delved further, an eon-old kernel of fire singeing his lips and searing you with his desire. His tongue, catching onto his lust, slithered past your teeth, swirling your tongue with his and increased the volume of your moans. 

Gods, your moans, your little voices of passion were like victory trumpets to his ears, every single ah! or fuck! riling him further into a frenzy. He had not forgotten these glorious sounds when he was thousands of miles away, but it had been so fucking long since he had heard them in person, and not just his dreams.

So he relished in your moans. Completely engulfed himself in your bubble of desire as his one hand strayed from your wrists, skirting downwards along your body. Grabbing hold of your skirts, he raised them to your hips. He caught sight of your cunt, and he swore his mouth watered. 

“Stop it…stop stalling, Jihoon,” you seethed, soul almost withering in wait for your husband to ruin you already.

Fortunately for you, he was the most accommodating man.

His hand freeing yours, it journeyed downwards to the real treasure. Your eyes widened at his finger sliding inside you, and the pure, ethereal sensation of his touch finally attaining your cunt had you dazing off completely. Your mouth forgot all words, as if forgetting how to speak the languages which Jihoon whispered now on your skin.

With your hands gaining newfound freedom, they carded through his hair, finding refuge in the soft, growing locks, tidied for the party. You would have done more had Jihoon not circled your clit, and the delirious sensation was back—your legs nearly gave way, and you let out a whimper as you held onto him tightly, lest you fell at his feet. 

His sharp eyes caught onto your weakening state, slowing his ministrations. “How about I take this somewhere else?” He rasped in your ear. 

Not waiting for your answer, he slid his hands underneath your thighs and picked you up, you instinctively wrapping your legs around him. He did not cease his kisses, his tongue dancing inside your mouth while finding the door to the bedroom. 

He did not waste a single moment—kicking the door open with his foot, he settled you on the table right beside, throwing the objects to the floor. Giving you a small peck, he journeyed downwards, slowly kneeling before you while opening your legs.

His husky chuckling rang in your ears. “Gods, after so long…” he could not even finish, pressing airlight kisses upon your inner thigh, each phantom touch nearing the kernel of arousal. “So…fucking long…”

The minute he reached his destination his tongue slipped free of his mouth. Holding onto your thighs, he let himself take the last step.

His tongue sliding along your cunt had you melting on the table. 

You were certain the table had crumbled beneath you, the ground fading as your husband explored you, lapping up the arousal dripping since the moment he graced you with his touch. A satisfied noise left his occupied mouth, you tasting like the honey wine you poured for him not an hour ago.

This. This made fighting relentlessly for two years worth it. This made every single drop of blood, buckets of sweat and floods of tears worth it. Life was hard, torturous even away from Rome, from you, but all that dark anguish in the time lost between you two was worth it if this was his reward.

And Jihoon would make sure this, too, would be worth it for you.

His tongue found your clit, and if you were not a mess before, the tendrils of pleasure that came with reduced you to cinders. He circled the bud like a slow march, growing faster with each passing beat. You moaned his name, a mantra on your lips which only rang louder. 

“J-Jihoon,” you kept whimpering, and his tongue would circle faster. You begin to thrash against him, unable to sit still while he brought you such unadulterated thrill. You would have happily grinded against his face had his hands on your thighs not tightened, indicating to stop fidgeting.

In honesty you tried—you endeavoured to be composed, but the bastard made the task impossible. The writhing continued, and would have kept going had Jihoon not halted his actions.

You let out an agitated yelp. 

“I’m sorry, vita, but you have to stay still,” he replied, fingers running along your thighs. “Do you not want to enjoy this?”

His lips glistened as he spoke, courtesy of your cunt. With his head in between your thighs, he was a feast for your eyes. “Fuck, Jihoon, I…I already am.” 

Maybe he agreed that he was a fine feast, for he curved his shining mouth in a dark smirk, eyes not leaving yours as he slowly slung a leg over his shoulder. “Well then,” he began, repeating with the other leg, fingers skimming the naked skin. “Let me add to your pleasure.”

This time, when he dove in, he was relentless.

You gripped onto the edge of the table, fingers digging into the wood as he quickened the rhythm of his tongue, working on your bundle of nerves so deliciously you wondered how your soul still survived inside your body. 

The wondering stopped, your questions answered when his finger joined in on the ravishing, sliding inside you and knocking the breath out of you. He was so undeniably good, knowing you liked the insertion slow, almost testing the waters before completely undoing you.

And gods bless him, for that is all he intended to do. The Eagle of Rome only knelt for the gods, but you, your whines, your writhing pleasure he drank like a man parched…

You had become a deity in his eyes; and a celestial figure deserved the best of service — hours upon hours of honing your desire because he was the only one who was capable of ruining you.

Another finger found itself inside you, and your cunt began to pulsate at the fullness it achieved, inching along the growing tension bubbling deep within your gut. Beads of sweat dripped down, your willpower to not thrash against his face about to snap, and when he fastened his pace an obscenely loud moan ripped through your mouth. 

You were much too close to the final high.

“Fuck, Jihoon—!” you nearly cried, hands unable to stray from his hair, his wonderful, lustrous hair. “Jihoon, please, I’m so clo—”

His free hand on your thigh squeezed you ever so slightly, as if aware of your near absolution. He only sped up his work, his fingers gliding in and out so quickly you could not keep up. If that was not enough, his mouth sucking on your clit was ready to bring the sky down on your head.

But Jihoon was ready to risk the destruction of all the world. Ready to face the gods in his last hour as he swirled your swollen bud with his tongue one last time.

That was enough to come undone.

Your release came crashing, curls of pleasure riding all through your body as your mind misted into fog, no thought or idea save for the slow assistance of your husband, easing your throbbing. A lust-struck sigh came out of you, hand falling from his hair onto his tensed shoulder. Sensing your high washing over, he slowed his tongue, fingers withdrawn from your cunt.

He caught your gaze in his, two slick fingers hanging between you two. He dared you to look away as he brought them to his lips, slipping them inside and tasting the residue.

That sight alone could have made you come for the second time. 

The bastard knew it too, for a ghost of a smirk exposed itself on his face, once his fingers were clean of your arousal. “Could not let it go to waste,” he murmured, as if your wetness was liquid gold. 

Hands back on your thighs once more, he lifted himself up gently, toga in disarray over his service. With you sat upon the table, his fingers found home upon your chin, lifting your line of sight on him.

Pure hunger lay dormant in his eyes. 

Not just his eyes, but his mouth still, when he leaned in and kissed you. You returned it without question, desire coiling around your soul as if it had not been released mere minutes ago.

You did not care. Not when you had waited so fucking long.

The man smiled between the burning kisses, humming at your lusted agony as he slid an arm around your waist. “My love—” a kiss upon the corner of your mouth —”What more shall I do—” another kiss, to the other corner—”For you?”

If he kept at it like this, you were going to forget your mother tongue. “Inside me…” you mustered between his lips on you, on your skin. A pathetic attempt, but your mind was still recovering from your release.

He paused, a malicious grin curving. “Pray, mea vita, my sweet, was I not just inside you?” Tugging you off the table, he held on tight as your knees buckled. “See? Even your body speaks for me.”

Your leg brushed against the weakness of his argument, almost tenting his toga. “Does yours?” you managed to remark, catching the defeated furrow of his brow. 

His stare had you silent once again, butterflies forming in your stomach. Leaning in, his lips brushed against the shell of your ear. 

“I’ll have your body screaming for me when I’m done, vita.”

Your body, in his response, shuddered against him.

Jihoon did not wait for more as he slotted his mouth along yours, igniting the flame again, unable to have enough of you as he whirled you around, eliciting the same little whines he adored so ardently.

He swooped you up in his arms, knowing your legs could not take the walk to the bed. Never stopping his kisses, he knew where to go by memory, hands skirting along your skin as he neared the final haven of tonight. Despite his words, he laid you gently upon the bed, continuing his trail upon your cheeks, your jaw, anywhere where you would allow him. 

Your heart sang at what was to come. Memories flooded you, passionate nights of years ago reminding you of what had been, and what distance had snatched from you. You had never forgotten the last time you both had made love, the very last night you both had been offered before he was to sail away to satiate his need for vengeance. He had asked nothing from you, not a single request, even though he knew you would have given it to him in a heartbeat. 

No, that night, he had explored every inch, every crevice of your body—burned his presence onto your skin till the entirety of Rome knew that Lee Jihoon had left a piece of himself in you. That piece morphed into the child you bore, but Jihoon had never really left your soul, despite the thousands of miles stretching between you two.

“Never again,” you let yourself whisper as he broke away, your hands fisting themselves in his toga, tugging off the fabric which was another form of distance. You needed him once again. Yes, you had withstood miles upon miles away from him. But now, you could not handle even inches apart.

He understood. He always understood, slipping off the clothing till it reached his hips. Climbing over you, his abdomen exposed, you could not believe your cheeks burned at the sight of him half-naked before you. A small chuckle escaped him, and he stole a quick kiss before burying himself into your neck.

His fingers reached for the loose straps of your dress, barely of use. “Take these off for me, darling,” he whispered, and the order vibrated along your skin, ready to be followed. While you desperately tried to pry your dress off, he pressed open-mouthed kisses along the base of your throat, making your simple task an impossible mission.

One strap fell, and Jihoon’s teeth slowly sank into your skin, sucking at the spot with such passion a soft groan trambles out of you, unsure whether you could get the other half of your dress off. Thankfully, with someone as accommodating as him, he pressed an unironically chaste kiss before finding the last straps himself. 

The pure smugness in his eyes had you in near tears. “One little kiss, and you’ve ceased working,” he drawled breathily. “Must I do all the work, my sweet?”

You would have cursed his ancestors had he not brought your dress down, tossing the clothing to the side and drinking in your bare figure. 

A breath shuddered out of him, certain that you could inhale the pure lust oozing from him. “I can’t…I cannot believe I went two years without…without this—”

The words were left unfinished as he wasted no time, indulging your mouth for moments before pouncing downwards, taking your left breast in his mouth and skimming his teeth softly against the nipple. The man was riling you up now, you taking his hair in your hands, certain you were trying to tear his locks out with the way you held onto him. Jihoon did not seem to mind, too occupied with your breasts to pay heed to your damage.

“Jihoon, please, I need you to—fuck!” cut off with his tongue encircling your breasts, you nearly had had enough. Your cunt ached for the final descent, your patience growing thin. “Please, I-I need you inside me!”

His answer was allowing one last lick to your right nipple, cold striking your breasts as he looked down at you, eyes glossed over with carnal delight. With his hand he ripped away the toga pooling at his hips, and his cock was freed, almost enraged to be cloaked away in silk. 

You looked like a fool staring at it, but you could not help it—you did not remember it being so huge, even though it has been inside you countless times. Another piece of evidence that he had been away from you long enough.

“Ogled enough, darling?” his voice snapped you back, and you were almost embarrassed at the shit-eating grin that lit up his face. 

“Shut up,” you mumbled, but you could not say more, you being silenced with his searing kiss. 

Pulling away, his forehead rested against yours, black locks tickling your cheeks as he held your one side in one hand, and his cock in another.

Nudging your legs apart, the tip brushed against your folds, and your soul nearly departed from the ghost of a touch. “Careful,” he warned, thumb stroking your hip, and he stole a glance at you.

“I love you, vita,” he whispered.

And began the final descent.

His cock slid inside, slowly, ever so slowly, but with every inch you felt each layer of your spirit stop to a standstill. Jihoon never stopped watching—catching your parted mouth, the shallow, uneven breaths you took, the knitted brows, your fingers holding onto him for dear life. He could not help it, see—these few seconds, these few, transitory moments, where both souls are on the edge of the world, and none know whether they’d hang on, or fall to their doom.

This moment encompassed such an image within the features of your face.

And he relished it. Captured the image, and used it as fuel to his carnal fire as he buried himself into you, releasing a breath he kept inside the entire time. Maybe it was after so long, but the two of you stayed still, your husband fearing you might snap. A frivolous thought, of course, but one can believe anything when one is so vulnerable.

One look from you, though, had his doubts disappearing in an instant. You let a small smile escape, and it was all he needed before he slowly withdrew, the mere action so gratifying you wondered whether it was another one of your dreams, a vision granted by the mercy of the gods.

Maybe the gods were extra pleased, for Jihoon was no dream—only a very pleasing reality, waiting for your whimpers to fill the room before thrusting back into you again. The rhythm was beginning to strike, and you were its follower; the shy hesitations started to fade, and you could feel his desire burning with every slide out, and every slide in of his cock into you, holding onto your hips to keep you steady. 

With each thrust you felt the stakes of your pleasure reach higher and higher. Tendrils of delight rippled through you with his movements, quickening yet keeping his fluidity, like an elegant dancer in a warfield, somehow managing to emerge victorious with his body alone. Of course, you could never doubt your husband. He was the favourite of the Empire for a reason.

“By the gods, you—” he plunged into you once more, and he grazed a certain spot inside you that had you seeing the universes. “You’re so fucking good to me, you—”

Never finishing his sentences, never even finishing his line of thought, the sole thing in his mind being your delicious fucking folds, your cunt which felt so perfect around his cock. He leaned in further, teething sweet love bites onto your neck, revelling in your pleasured groaning, growing louder and louder with each quickened thrust. “Yes, vita, just like that!” he exclaimed, never stopping. “For all of Rome to hear!”

He did not care a bit if the world heard them now. All that mattered to him was you, you and only you.

More so when that familiar, growing ache of nerves was back, warning you of your impending release. Jihoon was ruthless to you, relentless with his cock, unforgiving with his tongue and teeth which managed to devour your every inch. There was no escaping it—the ache was like a tightened knot, with his actions well on its way to unravel it.

“I-I’m close, Jihoon,” you breathed out, pressing your lips on his chest, his shoulder, anything you could grasp. “Please, love, I need to—”

“I know, vita,” he guttered, as if he, too, was close. He did not care much for that, though, when all he could focus on was you, all broken words and teary gazes beneath him. “I know.”

To add even more to your doom, he brought back an older prospect, fingers circling your clit and heightening the delight swirling within your gut ten times over. The nerves were pumping, faster and faster, and you were deathly aware that it was now or never.

Your eyes, seeing stars throughout, found your husband within the mist of desire. “J-Jihoon…”

Everything was forgotten. Not a word remembered in the fog of your mind but your vita’s name, your lover’s name, bright as the summer sun, as bold as the royal colours he adorned in his triumph.

As true as the love never lost between the two of you.

It was enough for the Eagle of Rome to capture your lips, holding you in a heart-wrenching kiss.

It was enough for you to completely ruin yourself.

Your cries drowned onto his mouth as release came crashing, legs shaking as you died and resurrected all at once, came undone within his hold. The world slipped away in that moment, with him as your anchor, saving you from being eternally lost.

While you lay breathless, Jihoon slipped himself out of you, breaking away from your kiss to cry out himself, spilling himself onto you and the sheets. A haggard fuck escaped him, arcing over you before throwing himself beside you. 

Silence welcomed you after that.

The din of the party remained, and both of you gasping, but a silence followed, like a warm winter blanket. Both of you stared at the ceiling, the moonlit parts of the surfaces, trying to catch your breaths after what you both just experienced.

Turning your head, you caught Jihoon already stealing glances. They were heavy-lidded, unsurprisingly, yet you found it endearing, despite the circumstances.

“What?” you got out, cocking your head at his soft staring.

He shook his head, smiling tiredly. He stretched his arm out towards you, murmuring, “Come here.”

Obliging, you followed under his arm, resting your head against his chest. Despite the granite-hardness of his body, no other surface would suffice. Your head rose and fell along to his uneven breathing, a small comfort. 

As the general gazed down at you, the softness returned; his thumb stroked along your cheeks. “I…” he began, voice huskier than usual, you humming in satisfaction. 

“Yes?” you got out, hanging onto his every word. 

Glancing away for a second, he looked to the window, and the view it offered of the world beyond.

He then glanced back at you, a better world he had found of his own.

“I am…so happy…” he whispered. Whispered because he had to tell his world what he felt. “So happy to come back to you.”

Your heart but into a thousand butterflies.

A smile as wide as you could muster was your response.

And as he continued stroking your hair, and you leaning into his hold, you too, knew that you felt the exact same.

For the Eagle of Rome had returned to you at last.

CENTURION LEE CHAN HAD WITNESSED HORRORS.

He had seen thousands of dead men, scattered across the sands of Egypt. He had seen ships sink before his very eyes—by the gods, he had even seen the beginnings of death, when he nearly drowned at the final naval battle that secured Legacy Legion its victory.

None of these events, however, made him more queasy as realising that you, while you were laid beside your husband, were not experiencing intoxication from honey wine. It was an exhilaration of a completely unusual kind, a feeling that had the tips of his ears reddening. 

His fellow men’s reactions only made it worse. “What did you think they were going to do?” Seungkwan only demanded. “Sleep it off on their first night together?”

“Well, how was I to know?” the youngest visibly shivered. “I do not know how married people work.”

“Poor soul,” Soonyoung tutted out, no plans for pausing his drink. “I fear for when he is to wed.”

“I still do not understand,” Seokmin voiced out. “They have a whole child together. How did you not…”

“My apologies for not pondering over our general’s intimate life,” Chan grumbled. “How idiotic of me.”

“Do not mind these deviants,” Wonwoo assured him, handing him a fresh cup of wine. “You just drink their awful comments away.”

He spared a fearful glance at the cup, filled with honey wine. “I should not,” he meant to declare in a confident stance. His voice, already weakened from a previous revelation of his commander’s, had rendered his declaration as a childish mumble. “The baby would need my attention sooner or later.”

“Fuck the baby!” was Seokmin’s great exclamation, clicking his tongue. “He is already the star guest of this damned celebration. We—!” he patted his chest repeatedly—”We were supposed to be the ones our people fawn over!”

“Your need for attention never fails to astound me,” Wonwoo remarked, circling his drink. “The boy was named after our murdered friend.”

“It happens to men like Seokmin,” Seungkwan drawled, slinging an arm around him, “To those men who received no attention at home.”

“Fuck off!” Seokmin jeered, rasped out from the alcohol buzzing in his system. “At least our Roman women fawned over me this afternoon. Where were your girls?”

“My, my, our dear Seokmin’s imagination runs so wild!” The second-youngest cooed condescendingly, grabbing Wonwoo’s cup, which had the latter furrowing his brows. “He dreams of female attention when we have seen no evidence of it!”

Soonyoung wished to join in on the bullying, chiming in, “And now he envies a child that cannot control its own piss!”

As everyone laughed at the poor, drunk soul, who genuinely looked as if he might cry, Wonwoo waved his large hands around, as if attempting to calm everyone down. “No more harassing the unloved virgin.”

“We were not talking about Chan though,” Soonyoung instantly piped up, his next said-target narrowing his eyes. 

“Just because I choose to save myself for someone I love,” he grumbled, which had chuckling resonating around the group.

“Gods help her when she turns up, then,” Seungkwan sighed out, drinking Wonwoo’s wine. 

Perhaps Chan might have said something in retort—might have even garnered the strength to punch the honey wine out of his friend’s insides when one of the servants came hurrying. 

He identified her as Myrtia, your personal maid, who looked incredibly distressed. “Centurion Lee,” she immediately began, “Seungcheol keeps crying!”

“Oh, gods,” Soonyoung crowed, “Wet-nurse first, soldier second, is it?”

“At least he is not a whore first, Soonyoung,” Seokmin muttered.

“Both of you, shut up!” Chan finally snapped, turning to Myrtia once more. “Where is he right now? Will _____ not tend to him?”

“Our dear _____ is a little occupied being tended to herself, remember?” Seungkwan reminded him, his smirk malicious. 

The youngest flushed scarlet, shaking his head. “Right, of course…” He heaved himself off the cushions, to much of his friends’ agitation. “I will see what to do.”

“What?” Soonyoung sat up, but the alcoholic daze had him swaying slightly. “Wait, wait, wait, don’t just leave!” 

“Take me to Cheol,” Chan said to Myrtia, but before she could even agree, four rounds of disapproving voices hurled towards the poor boy.

“No!” Seungkwan exclaimed first, taking great pains to hoist himself off the long tables. “No, no, you cannot go on your own!”

“Exactly!” Seokmin joined in, using Seungkwan’s toga to try hauling himself up. “You will die in there!” 

Wonwoo clicked his tongue, even though he, too, was beginning to follow after his friends. “Chan is not going to die with a mere child.”

Chan watched his superiors rise carelessly from their furnishings, already feeling a little frantic. “What are you all doing?”

“Why, coming with you, of course!” 

“Myrtia, my sweet,” Soonyoung purred, patting a hand on her shoulder, “You lead us straight to the baby!” 

Hurriedly nodding, she turned and headed towards the destination, five centurions hot on her heels as they were led down the familiar hallways. Chan muttered to himself, but did not have time to self-ponder when he was constantly being distracted.

“How much longer is this going to take?” Seokmin whined, holding onto the walls for support. “And since when did the lamps on _____’s walls start shaking?”

“It has not been a minute and you’re complaining!” Seungkwan snarked out. “It’s a wonder you managed to walk forty miles everyday, lazy git.” 

“Not lazy enough to slice your mouth right off!” 

“Just this door here,” Myrtia said, turning into the empty doorway, dipping her head in respect as she stepped out of the way, allowing Chan to enter first, the rest stumbling behind him. 

Sure enough, the first noise heard in everyone’s ears was the wailing—a screechy, whiny sound which reverberated off the stone walls, striking discomfort, irritation, turmoil in the hearts of whoever heard them. The man who felt it the most dashed to the cot, brows joining together in agitation over the sight of the baby. 

“You would think Chan was the father,” Seungkwan retorted. “Do something about this crying, boy!” 

“You really are heartless,” Wonwoo scolded, following after the youngest. Observing the crying child, he pursed his mouth into a thin line. “How does one…stop a baby from crying?”

“Only a mother can take care of her child,” Seokmin voiced out, as if he thought of a ground-breaking notion akin to Plato’s wisdom. 

“We are not disturbing _____,” Seungkwan rebuked, shaking his head vigorously. “Those two have waited nearly two years to fuck each other again.”

“Let them have their fun!” Soonyoung roared, which had the baby crying louder. “Gods, Chan, you are the youngest after Cheol. Handle this sobbing mess!”

“I have seen twenty summers,” Chan muttered.

“Yes, so a baby in my eyes!” 

“Of course you are going to consider Chan as a baby, you geriatric. It’s a wonder you did not collapse on the battlefield.” 

I will kill you in the next war, Seungkwan.”

As the rest started grumbling amongst themselves, the youngest gently picked up the bundle, slowly rocking him in hopes to calm the crying. Seungcheol’s face was reddened with the constant sorrow, and it broke Chan’s heart a little, hoping that he would gain some newfound power and solve whatever problem ailed him. 

A sigh escaping him, he began to mumble sweet nothings to him, morphing those whispers in a quaint song he heard from his own childhood. His melody was like honey wine, words so soft, his voice so sweet, that the men that accompanied him began to quieten, turning their heads to the origin.

Wonwoo watched the scene, smiling lop-sidedly. “You are a natural!”

“It is quite embarrassing,” Seokmin admitted, scratching the back of his head, “That the youngest of us is the only one able to calm a child.”

“None of us claimed to be good with children,” Seungkwan thought out loud, observing the younger soldier tend to the sobbing, which had quietened to mere whimpers. 

Soonyoung tried to raise a brow—strong on tried, but he was too drunk to carry out such a simple action. “You always boasted of your relationships with your nieces and nephews.”

“That is different. I could care less about random urchins.”

“Seungkwan!” Seokmin exclaimed. “Seungcheol is no urchin.”

“He was though, was he not?” The man scoffed, albeit a bit tenderly as he began to reminisce. “Gods, did you forget how insufferable he was?”

“Always on our arses, too,” Soonyoung agreed, snickering. “Do you remember when he got us in shit with Octavian?”

“Talking back to Caesar’s successor during our first military session.” Wonwoo visibly shivered. “The punishment still haunts me.”

But the distant memory only made the rest chuckle, as if the centurions had not received verbal lashings from the leader of Rome at that time. Silence bathed the room, only Seungcheol’s voice sputtering through the surface of calm. It had only been a meagre two-and-half years since the inspiration behind his name had passed, but with the hardships of the Alexandria campaign, it had felt like decades. Even Chan felt the age of this campaign, although he was young when he suffered the loss. 

He sensed the loss a little more that night as, walking away from the cot, he leaned against the wall. As if unable to stand, he let his legs buckle a little, sliding down and settling on the floor, feet spreading out before him. “I sometimes see him in my dreams,” he admitted. 

There was a heavy pause. 

Then, “He visited me more a year back.”

Everyone focused on Soonyoung. Travelling to where his youngest friend sat, he copied his position, continuing, “I told Jihoon about it, actually, right before Actium…I deemed it a sign of the gods.” A small laugh huffed out of him. “He then corrected me, saying it was all Cheol.”

“Typical,” Seungkwan said, smiling. “Take all the might of the gods and reward himself for it.”

“I cannot blame him, though,” Wonwoo countered, wandering over to the seated duo, looking down at their general’s son. “A loss of faith can come with a loss of a loved one.”

“Yes, but look at us now!” Seokmin reasoned, gesturing to them all. “Victors of the coming generation!” 

“But these so-called ‘Victors’ cannot stop a baby from crying,” Wonwoo murmured, sitting beside Chan. “I doubt we deserve that title.”

“Hey, at least Chan deserves it.” Seokmin hurried to sit beside the former, watching tenderly over at the baby. “Look, he is silent now!” 

“No way!” Seungkwan exclaimed, sauntering to the group and settling beside Soonyoung, reaching over to inspect the claim.

Sure enough—at the centre of the most powerful soldiers in Rome, almost slumbering in complete peace, was a silent Seungcheol, happy Seungcheol as he stirred only if Chan moved his hand, or shifted his legs. It was not as if they had not seen a mere child before, but, once again, this bundle, so full of life, was different. This was their commander’s legacy. Their leader’s soul extended from his own life-force, his evidence that he loved. 

This Seungcheol that the five men stared at was the new beginning. 

It was a long time before anyone spoke. “Do you think he looks more like one over the other?” Wonwoo asked.

“All babies look the same to me,” Seokmin offered his opinion. 

By Seungkwan’s incredulous glance, it seemed it was not appreciated. “No one let this idiot have a child of his own.”

The accused frowned, genuinely hurt. “Hey! I should like to have a family one day. Give you all opportunity to become uncles again.”

“I would recognise your baby anywhere,” Soonyoung crowed, “Because it shall be the ugliest out of ours.”

The gasp that escaped Seokmin had Chan choking out a laugh. Seungcheol stirred at the action, which had the latter immediately stilling. “You guys need to insult each other’s future children a little quieter,” he whispered. 

The former had other plans, though. “Wait, can I hold him?” 

Chan shot a concerned glance. “Fine, but be careful!” he insisted, slowly handing over the bundle to Wonwoo, who, after smiling at him, passed him over at the end. 

Seokmin began rocking the child, who glanced up at him, languidly blinking up at the soldier. He was ecstatic, softly touching the tiny nose, and feeling his mouth widen into a grin. “See? He likes me already!”

“Yeah, after Chan has done all the hard labour,” Wonwoo commented, beaming at the baby’s expression. 

“I want Cheol after you,” Soonyoung demanded, crossing his arms, “So he can see what a real man is like.”

“Real jester, more like,” Seungkwan muttered, earning himself a hard elbow in the side. 

What Seokmin wanted to do was tell the eldest to wait his turn. He did not have the opportunity when he smelt the air around him, and found it most foul.

Chan noticed it immediately as well, and within the next few seconds, the others caught on. Five pairs of eyes whirled to the baby, who had the audacity to giggle.

Seokmin let out a scream. 

“BY THE FUCKING GODS—!”

Everyone scrambled to their feat, the rest struggling to hold back their amusement. “Not so loud!” Chan hissed, though he was restraining a laugh, only successful by the finger on his lips. 

“Stupid damned baby!” Seokmin screeched, holding the bundle at arms length. 

Wonwoo could not help his laugh, which spluttered out of him. “You cannot blame a baby for acting like one! It is like scolding a dog for running after a bone.”

The comparison had Soonyoung bellowing out, holding his stomach. “I always knew Seungcheol was annoying, but shitting on us is another low!”

Seokmin visibly shivered, patience running thin. “I hope he is rotting in the underworld,” he cursed, completely merciless. 

“I hope he is laughing at you,” Seungkwan prayed instead, wiping a few tears from his eyes. 

Chan only shook his head, walking to the doorway and stretching his head out. “Myrtia!” he called out, catching her tending to the guests in the dining areas. 

Quickly she arrived at the scene, understanding immediately what had occurred, judging by the men’s reactions. “Hand him over, Centurion,” she ordered, he obliging her instantly. 

“Sorry?” Seokmin offered, as if he was the one who soiled his toga. That had the others laughing even more, which had him furrowing his brows. “You men are the worst!”

“After ruining Chan’s night with all our complaints, it is only fair that we turn to you!” Soonyong explained, as if that was perfectly reasonable. 

Seungkwan cackled darkly. “We really are each other’s worst enemy.”

Wonwoo somehow found that incredibly sentimental. “I would not have it any other way,” he said, slinging his arm around Chan, ushering the other three to join in. “After all, who knows us better?”

“You make a stellar point!” The eldest clasped onto Chan’s free side, poking him in the cheek. “I would not wish to befriend any other wretched bastard.”

“You do not possess the ability to make friends, Soonyoung,” Seungkwan pointed out. 

“Then what are we?” Seokmin demanded, offended, the last to join the group. 

“Comrades?”

“Colleagues?”

“People who have seen me naked?”

But it was Chan, who was quiet all this time, observing his older—usually irritating, sometimes diabolical, yet always beloved—superiors, there formed an answer which had been settled in his heart the moment he had found their company nearly a decade back.

“Brothers.”

The men surrounding him stilled, gawking at the centre of their group—the centre that was always the core of their brotherhood. Although there was ample opportunity to poke fun at the situation, they found no ground for such humiliation. They only watched as, in an almost comical image, four pairs of eyes softened at the boy who had grown right in front of them. 

Wonwoo ruffled the youngest’s mop of waves. “And you are the dearest out of us all.”

“And do not forget it,” Seungkwan said. “Even if we make you seem otherwise.”

Chan smiled at them all, face flushing at the amount of attention received. A comfortable silence fell over them, everyone pondering over different notions, reminiscing of their times together. 

Soonyoung, however, possibly still a little intoxicated, thought of a completely different opportunity—thoughts of the very near future. 

“Men,” he began, “I have a proposition.”

The soldiers perked up, about to brace themselves for a revolutionary idea.

“Who wants to spy on Jihoon and _____?”

There was a momentary pause. Chan, visibly horrified, whirled his head left and right, praying to the gods that his fellow brothers felt the same. 

“Go on, then.” 

And as the four eldest centurions shuffled to the nursery’s entrance, Chan scrambled for a solution, because he would have rather been Mark Antony’s prisoner than listen to his commander and his wife…solidify their reunion.

He sucked in a sharp breath. 

“Wait!” 

The men paused, looking over their shoulders. “What is it?”

That intake of breath was released in complete devastation. So much for calling these utter shits brothers. 

“How about we all drink? I shall…” A hard gulp. “I shall join you properly all this time.”

They could not believe it at first. Chan, however, trudged over to them, grabbing onto whatever shoulder was nearest. “I mean it.”

He swore his brothers seemed happier in that moment than they had been cradling Jihoon’s child. 

“Well, what are we waiting for?!” Soonyoung roared, already leaving the entrance. “Let us empty the coffers!” 

And as the five most powerful men in Rome ran to be utterly gone with alcohol, Chan could not help but huff out a laugh, and hoped he had done his primus pilus a favour. 

YOU HAD ALWAYS ADORED THE WAY YOUR HUSBAND SLEPT.

As one of the most esteemed, strongest generals ever walked on Roman soil, Lee Jihoon looked as vulnerable as your baby son as he lay next to you. His body rose and fell with every breath, his arm a strong comfort around you. 

You could not help the smile that slipped past your mouth, watching him rest so peacefully after two years. You loved every single inch of your husband, but these little pieces of him, offered to you on rare occasions—with the sun bleeding through the bedroom windows, cool air drifting inside, kissing your skin—were a treasure rarer than all the wealths of the empire. 

You dared not wake him, lest the moment ended, only allowing your fingers to stretch a little forward. Your fingertips caressed the small cuts, scars on his skin, wishing you could fill every crevice of his battle-worn face with your liquid love. 

How beautiful he was, with or without what his experiences added onto him. 

Perhaps he could feel the adoration radiating off of you, for he began to stir faintly, humming to your caresses. His arm around you pulled you closer, and you were mere inches from face. 

What fortune to be so close to him, because you witnessed his eyes flutter open. Dark, chocolate irises welcomed you, and you wished with your heart that you could dive into them, and be forever lost in their haze.

“Morning,” you uttered, smiling.

He offered a lazy one in return. “Morning, my love.”

You almost beamed. “I love it when you say that.” 

His brow raised absentmindedly. “What? Morning?”

You tutted. “I think you need to sleep some more.”

“Hmmm…” he nuzzled into your neck, closing his eyes. “I will if you sleep with me.”

“But I already am.”

He craned his head back, nestled in your chest. “I think you know what I mean, vita.”

Involuntarily, you caught your lower lip between your teeth, and by the look on Jihoon’s face, he had half a mind to copy your actions.

Perhaps you would have let him too, if you did not hear a suspicious sound.

You perked up, head turning towards the door, where the origins of the voice—voices, as you listened in—lay. Your husband, catching onto your change of countenance, stretched himself before sitting up straighter, eyes squinting at the door.

Grabbing onto your clothes, which lay unceremoniously on the floor, you half-dressed yourselves before you reached just before the entrance of the room. The voices were much louder, a sense of agitation filling each one.

The loudest of the noise, amongst all the bickering, was a soft wail.

“—you stupid prick, I told you not to feed it that!”

“Well how was I supposed to know what it likes?”

“I hope you and Seokmin never have children—”

“Gods, Jihoon is going to be raging mad—!”

“What it deserves for being called Cheol—!”

You did not get to hear the end of the discussion, for Jihoon grabbed onto the doorknob and burst open the door.

Shrieks were heard on the entrance, five centurions stumbling into your bedroom, one with a special, wailing package in his hand.

“By the gods!” your husband exclaimed, shaking his head at his subordinates, scrambling to stand straight. “What are you all doing, muttering about behind our door?”

“Uhh…general!” Wonwoo declared, earning a sharp hiss from his friends. “We actually…uhhh…” He looked at the others, confused. “What were we here for?”

Soonyoung, rubbing his temples, seethed, “Seungcheol, you idiot!”

“Ah, yes!” Wonwoo straightened, deepening his voice to pretend sobriety. “Seungcheol!” 

Seokmin’s eyes widened. “But Seungcheol died years ago!”

Seungkwan then smacked him around the head. “Not that Seungcheol, you fucking idiot!”

You are the fucking idiot, you ugly bastard!”

You glanced at Chan, whose focus only lay on the crying child. The one who held him looked as if he might burst into tears too, but you spoke up before you had any more crying children in the house. “Here, let me tend to him.”

The boy handed you your son, but you noticed he dared not look you in the eye. “Is something the matter?” you asked him softly.

Soonyoung scoffed at your question. “Silly little virgin has been shitting his toga ever since he heard you two fucking like rabid dogs.”

“Watch your filthy mouth,” your husband guttered, which had the scolded-man shrinking back behind Wonwoo.

Seokmin snickered, Seungkwan smirking as you glanced at the youngest. “Chan…” you trailed off, not really sure on what to say.

Thankfully, your husband seemed to have a solution. “Chan, please grow up,” he remarked, crossing his arms over his tousled clothing. “You were holding my child mere seconds ago.”

“He just needs to stick his cock into someone,” Seungkwan said, a bit too matter-of-factly.

“Or something,” added Seokmin, the honey wine clearly still talking.

You saw Chan physically recoil from the statement. “What did you even have in mind?” Wonwoo asked, nose scrunching in distaste. “Actually, I do not want to know.” 

“Sober up, the lot of you,” you said, unable to stay serious, despite the death glares Jihoon offered them. “I need you all to help me clean the place up today.”

Everyone unanimously groaned, causing the latter to get irritated. “If I hear a sound from you pathetic drunkards, then it’s 40 miles around the city.”

Soonyoung turned his head to you, clearly exasperated. “_____, did you bite his cock or something?”

“Soonyoung!” You gasped. 

“I need to lie down,” Wonwoo groaned, turning towards the door. “I shall be dunking myself in a well nearby.”

“Take Seokmin with you,” Seungkwan drawled, fixing his hair. “Maybe this time he will actually drown.”

“If I drown little man, I’m taking you with me,” the man snapped. 

“Chan, dear, please sort them out,” you requested, hearing him sigh.

“I shall try my best, my lady,” he mumbled, knowing that his best efforts will be in vain. 

As he began to leave, you called out his name. He looked back, and you smiled as you rocked Seungcheol in your arms. “You are his favourite, Chan.”

The revelation had his frown morphing into a small smile, bowing his head ever so slightly before turning to his centurions. “Let us give our general some privacy.”

Seokmin grumbled underneath his breath, following after Chan. “As if they had not had enough privacy…could have made another baby for all we know…”

Jihoon focused his gaze on Soonyoung and Seungkwan. “Remember. No fucking about or it’s 40 miles.”

The latter waved his hand, opening the door. “Yes, yes, we are aware.”

Soonyoung mocked a salute, adorning a most dramatic drawl. “Of course, your excellency, no doubt at all, your royal highness, please, do give us further idiotic orders to taunt us with, your magnanimous majesty!”

Jihoon’s glare did not waver. “Get out.”

“…right on, general.”

And so the last of the centurions were out, you standing at the door as they made to leave. Before they exited, though, they all simultaneously waved at you, some a bit too enthusiastically, others a soft gesture. 

“Ave, _____! Ave, general!”

And they left, laughing already with plans to bring more merriment into their lives.

Your husband joined you, leaning against the opposite door frame. “I have a feeling they’re going to drag poor Chan into some brothel.”

“I think the boy would pass out before that would take place,” you said, chuckling as you glanced down at your child. “At least he takes care of Cheol well.”

“Does he?“

“…better than the average soldier, then.”

“At least they had fun yesterday.” Jihoon took a step closer, observing his son giggling at his mother’s entertainment. “Though they test my patience everyday, they deserve all the reward.”

“Do not exclude yourself, my love,” you reminded him. “You did not enslave yourself to your armies to disregard yourself like that.”

“I do not exclude myself.” His hand reached out, holding Seungcheol’s little head. How strange, that his entire head could fit in his palm. “I am simply happy with what I have right now.”

He offered you a smile. “I am more than happy with you and my son beside me. I ask for nothing more.”

You returned his smile, heart bursting at the seams as he leaned in, enveloping your lips with his in a sweet kiss.

And as the two of you played with your son in the morning light of the Roman sun, you snuck glances at your husband, the light of the Empire. The Eagle of Rome.

Finally, your home was now complete.

[comatosebunny09]

More late-night thoughts:

You’re visiting your mom for the holidays. Needed a break from being at Sylus’ beck and call. And it’s nice being in your mother's company. 

You’re laughing in the kitchen, prepping dinner while she catches you up on her life, and you skirt around the true details of yours. You don’t think your mom would respond to, ‘Hey, I’m an assassin-slash-seductress working for the most dangerous man in the galaxy’ too well. 

Of course, the topic of who you’re dating comes up. How do you explain to your mom that you have a thing for your boss, who (seemingly) feels nothing for you in return? Your boss who quickly tosses you into the arms of danger with minimal care for your well-being?

With a nervous laugh, you divert the topic. Still, your mind swirls with thoughts of Sylus. You wonder if he’s spending Christmas Eve with Miss Hunter, holding her close and whispering sweet nothings into her ear.

Your mom steps out of the kitchen with a loving squeeze on your shoulder as if she senses your inner turmoil. Says she’s going to grab some wine from the cellar because you look like you could use some. With a small smile, you fall back into monotony in her absence, snapping peas and humming a familiar tune to distract you. 

Gradually, you realize your mom’s been gone for a long time. The wine cellar isn’t too far. But she’s also older and doesn’t move as swiftly as she used to. Wiping your hands on a towel, you call after her with a smile, exiting the kitchen.

She doesn’t answer the few times you call for her. Worry creeps in as you maneuver through your eerily quiet childhood home. You venture into the cellar, a single lightbulb lighting the way. And the sight that greets you when you descend the stairs steals the air from your lungs.

Your mother’s whimper is muffled behind a gloved hand. Tears stream down her fear-stricken face. A man clad in black, wearing a mask that only reveals his eyes, holds her captive, a gun aimed at her temple. 

You take a cautious step forward, hands held out placatingly. The man pulls your mother back, the metal of the gun squeaking because he’s holding it so tight. You stiffen, panic and grief swallowing you whole. 

You didn’t anticipate anything like this happening. Didn’t expect danger to follow you, not when you innocently wanted to spend time with your only family for the holidays. You didn’t think to bring a gun and left your knives behind. Using your Evol in front of your mother is out of the question. 

“Let her go,” your voice wavers. 

The thug chuckles gruffly, holding your mother tighter. “I will if you come with us. Peacefully.”

You take another tentative step forward, eyes shifting between your mother and the man holding her hostage. “Who are you? Who sent you? What do you want with me?” You can only assume he has a vendetta against Onychinus and somehow figured out you work directly under its leader.   

“You’re asking too many questions for someone who doesn’t want her mom’s brains splattered all over the floor.”

You bristle. Briefly scan your surroundings for anything you can use as a weapon. Bottles of vintage wine surround you. Could grab one and shatter it over the thug’s head.

As if sensing your inner thoughts, the man clicks his tongue. “I wouldn’t get any bright ideas if I were you.” To highlight his point, he slowly pulls back the trigger. A surge of dread tears through you. 

“Alright, alright. Just—” You take another step forward, your mother’s whimpering squeezing your heart. “Just let her go. Please. She has nothing to do with whatever you want from me.”

For a moment, the man looks like he’s willing to negotiate. But your mother’s muffled shriek tinges the air before you can get another word out. Something blunt cracks on the back of your head, and your vision doubles as you careen forward. 

A sharp pain pounding in your skull, you’re loose-limbed on the dusty ground, weakly dragging yourself across the floorboards towards your mother. Your body and voice refuse to work with you, inky spots dancing in your vision before a kick to your ribs punches the air from your lungs. 

She screams bloody murder behind the thug’s hand, struggling against him as hot tears scorch down her face. Your body slackens, and you feel a sharp prick in your back, followed by a raspy chuckle from behind. 

“That was easier than I thought,” says another voice, muffled by the threat of unconsciousness slowly toddling in. “This Evol suppressant should keep her nice and quiet until we can get her back to the boss.” 

The man holding your mother laughs sinisterly. “Hopefully, this’ll bring her boyfriend out of hiding.”

Boyfriend? You can’t make sense of anything going on anymore. You just want to sleep. Want to curl into yourself as pain rips through you.

Try as you might, you can’t fucking move. And as the world slides into black, you’re being hoisted up by your collar while your mother’s cries of your name fade into the void. 

[milla-frenchy]

Home

3k7 | Marcus Acacius x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist

Summary: Acacius returns from Numidia several months after his departure, and comes back to his wife

Warnings: 18+ mdni. fluff, smut, established relationship, Acacius and reader are married and deeply in love, Acacius is devoted to his wife (he’s soft, protective, caring and slightly possessive), oral (m/f), oil massages, size kink, piv, creampie. No age specified

a/n:  this fic is just soft and sweet and I hope it will bring comfort to those who need it. This is my love letter to Acacius, basically, after watching Gladiator 2 (no spoilers towards the movie). I love this character so much. I did some research but I'm not an expert on ancient Rome at all.

Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for always holding my hand and for beta-ing, @joelmillerisapunk for cheering me up, @iamasaddie for being a sunshine- 🫶💓 dividers @saradika-graphics 🙏

You felt his presence before he even spoke. 

You knew he was here, because all your worries, all the tension in your body, dissipated instantly. All the weight accumulated during those last months was removed from your shoulders, allowing your body to relax and open up.

"My lady..," you heard. 

You stood up and faced him, turning away from the fish pond. You murmured his name then hurried towards him to snuggle against his broad, protective chest, where nothing bad could reach you. His arms surrounded you, as his lips kissed your forehead and your hands slid along his waist to his back. The warmth radiated from him, warming your entire being, body and soul.

"You are here, my love," you whispered, feeling tears well up in your eyes. You had been holding them back for so long. Too long. Because you didn't want to seem weak, and because you didn't want to let your brain swallow you up in its darkness.

But now Acacius was here, and you could allow your fragility to consume you for a moment,  to be your true self, letting your emotions overwhelm you. Because you knew that he would want to absorb them for you, to protect you. To be your man.

"I'm finally here. I missed you, you have no idea. You were always in my thoughts, my beloved.”

You hugged each other tighter, and you buried your face in his chest, rubbing against him, like a cat that marks its territory with its scent. 

"I missed you too, Acacius," you replied, finally raising your face to his, staring into those soft brown eyes that you missed so much. The eyes of your husband who had returned from Numidia. Returned victorious, as always, but the worry never left you when he was gone. The intrusive thoughts that made you fear that he wouldn’t come back to you, that he had perished. Or worse, taken prisoner. The highest representative of the Roman Empire on the battlefield, the general of Rome, gods only knew what they would do to him.

Caressing his cheek with your thumb, you chased away those dark thoughts to let yourself enjoy the present. Your husband, your love was there. You brushed his wrinkles, as you took the time to admire his slightly grayer curls, before running your fingers through them.

"You are even more beautiful than when I left," he said in a low, calm voice. You smiled when you heard him, moved by his love for you that was radiating from him. Love that had never wavered during your marriage. He always came back to you, as soon as he had dealt with the burdens placed upon him by the emperors he hated.

"Let me feed you, my love," you said. "And bathe you."

You walked toward the caldarium, his arm around your shoulder, yours around his waist, your body pressed against his. You were holding each other close as you were walking, it had been so long since he left for Africa nova.

“I cleaned myself before I went to the coliseum. You don’t have to, you know?”

“I know. But I love to do it, even if it’s only symbolic.”

He smiled warmly and saw you melt under his stare, then pressed a kiss on your temple to forget the fast beating of his own heart.

You undressed him slowly, layer by layer. Taking the time to place your hands on his chest before you would remove the last fabric, to feel his torso rise under your fingers. To process the fact that he was really back with you. He watched you roam his chest, shoulders, arms along his body, face lowered towards you. Smiling, patient. Soothed. 

Once you managed to stop staring at his skin, his muscles, the way his body reacted to your touch, you tilted your head up to meet his eyes. You both smiled, happy and relieved to finally find each other again. You always marveled at his softness, that side of him only you knew. 

Your fingers ran along his skin, and you frowned at each new wound you felt under your digits.

“You have so many new scars,” you said with a trembling voice. “I thank the gods for bringing you back to me.” 

“Thank the soldiers, my love, they kept me alive,” he replied, brushing your cheek with his thumb. He had great respect for his men, treated them well, and had their complete trust. Tears appeared in your eyes again, and he gently took your chin between his fingers to lift your face up to him.

“I’m here now,” he said, his voice still low and calm. He knew you needed to be reassured, that meeting again always made his next departures more difficult, for both of you. He knew you were already anticipating them.

“I know,” you stammered. “I know. I just missed you a lot.” You tried to push aside the worries that were already trying to infiltrate your mind.

“I know, and I’m sorry about that, I wish I never had to leave. But I have great news: I won't have to go for now. I told the emperors that I wanted to rest and spend time with my wife. Darius will lead the next battle, he's ready.”

“This is such great news, Acacius!” you said, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and nestling your face in his neck. “I'm so relieved.”

He held you against him, before cupping your cheeks in his hands and resting his forehead against yours.

You moved slightly aside to pull off the last layer of clothing, freeing his half-hard cock. You thought about it so often when he was away as your fingers were buried inside you.

You covered him in oil and massaged his shoulders to relieve his physical tension. Then his chest, arms, palms and belly, taking your time. Gently, your fingers worked his skin, finding their favorite spots and his. Lingering there.

Finally, you faced him and took his shaft in hand, before jerking him off gently under the pretext of applying the oil, but you both felt the need grow.

You then asked him to sit in the warm water, and got undressed. The expression in his eyes changed from softness to eagerness and desire while he was watching you. 

Fully hard, he stood up when you approached the bath, holding out his hand to accompany you down the steps.

“Sit on me,” he murmured in your ear, his beard brushing your skin. You straddled him, placing your hands on his cheeks before playing with his curls. You leaned down and finally kissed him, tasting his warm, soft, luscious lips. You both moaned and it made you smile, as you felt yourself mesmerized by him being finally there, with you. 

He caressed your lips with his tongue, then slid it between them. Your tongues found each other, for the first time in months, and you felt dizzy, savoring him again. His hands roamed your back, squeezed your skin sometimes, while your kiss was only growing more feral and needy. Unable to wait any longer, you grabbed his cock and nestled it at your entrance, making him growl from the depth of his chest.

“Slowly,” he stammered. “No foreplay… don’t hurt yourself.”

“Can’t promise it,” you smiled. It was almost a lie, both of you knew it, you couldn’t take him slowly, your need to feel him being too strong. You sank onto his shaft with your arms resting on his broad shoulders, and you had to bite him slightly when the fat head of his cock began spreading you wide open, until you welcomed him fully, leaving both of you breathless for a second.

“That wasn’t exactly slow,” he laughed once he caught his breath, his hand against the back of your neck as you peppered his collarbone with kisses, your cunt full of him.

“Couldn’t wait,” you breathed and kept kissing him, slowly moving up and down his shaft, mixing your moans with his, your forehead against his. Your breaths mingled, similar in their urgency.

“I missed you. I missed you,” you repeated, while one of his hands was caressing your back, the other resting on your hip to accompany your movements, but sometimes pushing you slightly more down his cock.

“Me too, my love. Finally feeling you like that, wrapped around my cock, is almost unreal after all that time. But I won’t last, I’m sorry,” he said in a breathless voice. “It’s been too long since I felt the warmth of your cunt. Only my hand could give me a release when thoughts about you invaded my mind.”

“Now I’m here. Use me. Come,” you added, rubbing yourself against his lower stomach, knowing you would come soon too.

He held you tight in his arms, setting his pace, fast, powerful, to the point that the water overflowed from the bath with every move. He chased his orgasm, growling in your ear, his body surrounding yours, and you let him use you willingly until his grunts turned into moans and he froze, coming inside you. You pulsed on his shaft just after, milking his cock, feeling him shudder inside you.

You let him catch his breath and his wits before facing him, your hands on his cheeks, and covered his lips, cheeks, forehead with kisses. Already thinking about the moment you would go to your bedroom, and finally take the time to rediscover each other.

Washed, you had dinner, and you told him what happened during his absence. Life in Rome, the dream of Marcus Aurelius long forgotten. The emperors were hated by the subjects, and the cruel games were still allowed.

His worry was growing as he was listening to you. Each time he left, he was afraid a revolt would take place and he wouldn’t be there to protect you. 

He asked you the question that had been burning his lips since his return, but that he was holding back, afraid of your answer.

“Did… did anyone hurt you while I was away?” he asked, eyes lowered to the ground, your hands in his. Then finally forcing himself to look at you and hear your answer.

“No, Acacius,” you answered quickly, eager to remove that weight from his shoulders and his heart. “Nothing happened to me, don’t worry.” You knew that he would lose his mind if someone hurt you, just like those who had hurt you would lose their heads. 

He kissed your hands when he heard you, keeping them between his, brushing them with his thumbs.

“I couldn't stand it if that happened,” he added, voice shaking.

“I know, my love. But the guards protect me. The ones you chose, and trust completely. I am safe.”

He nodded, even though both of you knew he would never be calm during his absences.

Once fed, he told you about the new conquests. You felt the weariness on his shoulders and in his eyes. His anger. The emperors were making him lose patience, every day a little more.

“Enough about this,” he said finally. “I don't want my return to be full of sadness and bitterness. I saw how tense your body is, I will help you relax with some oil, like you did to me.”

“Acacius… you need to rest after these last few months. Not to take care of me,” you replied softly.

“I am your husband,” he said gently but firmly, moving closer to you until he took your hand in his and kissed it. “Your man. There’s nothing else that I want to do more.” You looked at him and smiled.

Once in the bedroom, he asked you to undress and lie down naked on your stomach. He poured some oil in his hands, and rubbed them together. He didn't take his eyes off you until you were on the bed. "You're so beautiful," he said. “I’m gonna take care of you. I missed it.”

He started by massaging your neck, with perfect pressure. Hands flat, he pressed his thumbs against each tense spot, helping to release the tension step by step. You felt your muscles relax at his touch, from your neck to your shoulders. Once satisfied with the way your body responded to his movements, he coated his hands with oil again, then he took care of your lower back. Your pelvis had been stuck for weeks, and you knew that he would do wonders, as always. That the next day, when you woke up, it would be free of its tensions.

“Do you feel better?” he asked, kissing your shoulder, his moustache brushing your skin.

“Better than ever. Thank you, my love.”

“Perfect. Turn around now, please." You rolled onto your back, and you saw his eyes linger on your breasts for a few seconds, nipples hard after his hands on you.

“Well, General?” you chuckled.

“Mmm. I was staring, wasn’t I? I missed them too,” he confessed, blushing slightly, which was cute, coming from him.

He massaged your arms then your thighs, one by one, down to your ankles and feet, careful not to touch your breasts or even look at them, as if that would end the session prematurely. You didn't take your eyes off him, watching his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his tongue brushing his lip, his teeth nibbling on it.

Finally, you saw his gaze fixed on your pussy, something he had also avoided until then. The candlelight certainly didn’t allow him to see, but he probably knew you were flowing down to the bed. His hand slid from your ankle to your thigh, then brushed your folds before slipping between them, making you whine, as you heard the grunt of approval when his finger got lost in your wetness.

He took a deep breath and said “I’m too eager to taste you, now. But tomorrow I will touch, lick, worship your whole body. I want to kiss you, from your forehead to your toes. Take back what’s mine.”

“I’m yours, always, Acacius. Whether you are here or not.”

“I know, my sweet girl, I know. As I’m yours. Ad vitam aeternam. (forever)”

He got undressed and you loved that he took his time doing it, with a soft smile on his lips. You loved knowing that he would be there with you for several weeks. Every day and every night. 

You were never tired of looking at him. His body was a gift from the gods. His strong neck, with veins bulging every time he thrust into you. His broad shoulders, his belly slightly softer as the years passed. His large hands, next to which yours seemed tiny. 

His cock.

So massive that on your wedding night you had been so afraid that you had thought of running away. But he had assured you that he would be gentle and go slowly, that he would take care of you. After another hesitation you had chosen to trust him, his tone, his gaze, and two nights later it had seemed that you had been physically made for each other.

But more than his body, his personality, his loyalty, the way he cared about you, made him a loving, reliable, protective husband. You thanked the gods every day for making him yours.

Once naked, he knelt on the bed between your thighs, gently spreading them, finally revealing your pussy. Again, he took a deep breath. His thumb ran over your wet folds.

“You’re drooling for me.”

He lay down, bringing his face closer to your pussy and breathing it in. “Gods, I missed it.”

His tongue traced a stripe between your folds, up to your clit, making you whine. He looked up at you, adding “now, you’re gonna feed me.”

He dove between your thighs, eyes closed, your folds spread by his thumbs, burying his tongue in your core. Feasting, like he did each time he came back, but not only. From the wedding night, and all the others that followed, he had shown you how much he loved eating you out, pulling orgasm after orgasm, sometimes two in a row because he didn’t want to or couldn't stop.

“Acacius,” you whimpered while his nose was rubbing perfectly against your clit. As he had learned during all those years the way your body responded to him.

Back arched, hands lost in his curls, you moved in harmony with his mouth and his tongue, reaching for him, rolling your hips towards him. He pulled back for a few seconds to look at you, and smiled when you cried for his loss. His beard and mustache glistened with your slick and his pupils were dilated as if he had consumed opium to heal a wound. He leaned towards you again, pushing one thick finger between your folds and then sucking your clit. He quickly added a second digit when he heard your needy moans, and licked at your clit. Your hands moved from his curls to your breasts, then to the sheets, your fists clenching on them.

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come,” you whimpered, pelvis tilted towards him as far as possible, as if he wasn't already so close to you. The pleasure that was growing in your core finally exploded, hands and thighs holding his head against your cunt, not wanting him to stop. Docile, he kept licking and pumping you with his fingers, until you stopped clenching on them and released him.

He straightened up, crawling between your thighs, taking one nipple in his mouth, sucking on it like his life depended on it before moving on to the other, leaving them glistening with his saliva. Finally, lying between your thighs, he kissed you, his mouth and lips tasting like you.

“I want to taste you too, please,” you begged.

“Of course, my sweet girl. You don’t have to ask. I’m all yours.”

You kissed him before he rolled onto his back, and you straddled him. Covering his cheeks, lips, neck with kisses, then moving down to his torso, hands roaming over his skin. You took one of his nipples in your mouth, sucking, nibbling, licking, then the other, without taking your eyes off him. Admiring his beautiful face. You continued to move down, kissing his belly and hips, your breasts brushing his hard, oozing cock. You took his shaft in hand, and licked his balls, eyes still fixed on him, to see him drop his head back on the bed. “Gods..,” you heard him breathe. 

You smiled and left his balls to suck on his tip, lingering on it, giving you some time to get used to its width, to savor him in your mouth again. His precum flowed in your throat. He had been gone for so long that you were afraid you had forgotten the taste, but it was so familiar again now. Your head bobbing on his shaft, you wanted to make him feel good, wetness dripping from your cunt, moaning on his shaft, and you closed your eyes until you heard him growl louder. Then opened them to see his head raised towards you. One of his hands was placed on the back of your neck.

“You like it, General?” you asked playfully, then licked his shaft tongue flat.

“It’s divine.”

You crawled towards him, arousal dripping from your core after sucking him, you kissed his body again and then his lips, before murmuring “take me.”

His eyes darkened and in one movement he laid you down on the bed, under him. Pressing his cock to your entrance, this time he didn't wait, hands tight on your hips, he pushed his whole lenght into your cunt. His massive cock, so hard that you lost your breath. He never took his eyes off you, dark gaze lowered towards you, soft eyes forgotten in favor of a feral stare. He was possessive, claiming your body as he claimed cities during battles, like his body and mind needed it. Like you needed it too.

You tried to keep your eyes open, to look at him, leaning towards you, eyebrows furrowed, veins throbbing. But the relentless rhythm of his shaft spreading your walls made you forget where you were, leaving you moaning and repeating his name. You clung to his shoulders, telling him how much you loved to feel him again, how much you needed it. 

“Always taking me so well”, he growled, and you hummed with approval.

He slid his hand to the back of your neck, holding you close, his nose against your ear. He breathed you in, focused on your moans, eager to have all his senses filled with you, after months of being surrounded by dirt, screams and blood. 

He was home now, you were his home.

“Acacius,” you whined, his crotch rubbing perfectly where you needed it. 

“Come for me. Soak me.”

“Oh gods… Acacius… Acacius,” you whimpered, your orgasm rushing over you, making you pulse on his shaft, your clit throbbing against his skin.

“Just like that, squeezing me so hard… you were made for me,” he murmured, his breathing now ragged as his own pleasure rose.

“I’m… oh gods,” he said, just before cumming inside you, long spurts of cum painting your walls in white. You held him tighter against you, as he moaned in your ear. Your general of Rome, now the most vulnerable man in your arms.

His jolts finally stopped and he straightened up slightly, careful not to crush you under his weight. He covered your skin with kisses, from your neck to your lips, before rolling onto his side and welcoming you against his chest, arms wrapped around your bare body. Both of you waited for your breathings to calm down.

“I cherish it, you know,” you said, curled up against his chest.

“What do you cherish?” he asked, caressing your skin with his large, loving hands.

“Having you like this, in these moments. It always seems unreal to me, your softness and protectiveness towards me, knowing that you lead battles for Rome. Everyone who fought near you evokes your cold blood.”

He hugged you closer and kissed your forehead, brushing it for a moment with his moustache.

“I love you. I’m only myself when I’m home, with you.”

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

Follow @millafics and turn notifications on for fics updates

@pascalsanctuary @littlemisspascal @survivingandenduring

npt ❤️ tagging those who showed interest in the wip post, love you ❤️

@jessthebaker @schnarfer @sawymredfox @itwasntimethatdidit40 @mothandpidgeon

@pascalssbabyy @iknowisoundcrazy @thundermartini @604to647 @baronessvonglitter

[heizlut]

omg this is the first time i do this bc i always think i become a burden when i request sth🫠 BUT I PLUCKED MY COURAGE BC I LOVE YOU AND I HAVE A BOMB ASS IDEA BUT MY WRITING CAPABILITIES CANNOT DO IT JUSTICE. Ok so🫢 childhoofriend!/meandom!genshu lin x childhoodfriend!/sub!reader x childhoodfriend!/teasedom!jiyan after the war (lets pretend genshu didnt disappear/get unalived) and they release their pent up emotions by doing the deed and of course reader is more than happy to welcome them. Reader has enough holes for the two as you said😚😚

POOKIEEEE ILYSM🥹🫶🏼 i hope you like this!!!!!

What are Best Friends For?

〰cw: none

〰tags: sub fem!reader, mean dom!geshu lin, teasing dom!jiyan, all childhood besties with each other, creampie, unprotected sex, oral m!receiving, double penetration, anal, a lil degradation, throat fucking, a dash of stinky angst in the beginning

〰nsfw under the cut

〰m!list here

You always worried for your two best friends considering they were always at each other's throats, always arguing about battle strategies, what was right and wrong, or accusing the other of spending more time with you. You still did your best to act as a mediator or to provide them with whatever type of support they needed, no questions asked.

And right now, they both needed you. More than ever.

၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂

Standing in the middle of battleground, the retroact rain surrounds both of them and all of Geshu Lin's soldiers. If looks could kill, Jiyan would be dead on the spot with the way Geshu Lin glowers at him. Jiyan stands his ground, "This isn't right. There's something wrong with this rain. It would be wise to retreat unless you really want everyone to die here."

Geshu Lin's tongue runs across his teeth before speaking in a biting tone, "Last I checked, you were only a combat medic." He scoffs, speaking again with disdain, "If thousands of my men must die, then so be it. Now shut up and keep moving." Jiyan stands there as the general turns away, barking orders at his soldiers, rage and concern bubbling up inside of him.

They both promised you they would be safe, that they would return home to you unscathed. But with Geshu Lin's bullheaded pride, the chances of coming home to the girl they both loved in their own way seemed unlikely. Jiyan couldn't allow Geshu Lin to go through with this.

"General, listen to me", he calls out. Geshu Lin ignores him at first continuing on until Jiyan's next words make him stop dead in his tracks. "What about y/n...? We made her a promise. Do you truly intend to break it?", Jiyan's voice is sad, almost desperate. Desperate for his arrogant childhood friend to just listen to him for once.

Geshu Lin stands still for a few moments before partially turning back to face Jiyan with narrowed eyes. He can see the sincerity and concern in Jiyan's expression, making something twist inside of his chest. "Put aside your pride, Geshu... Stop this before there is no going back", he pleads with deep resolution.

Geshu Lin grits his teeth, fully turning to look at Jiyan. "I'm doing this because of y/n, not because you personally told me to retreat", he growls out. Relief washes over Jiyan's features, letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂

You stand there pacing back and forth by the front window of your house, gnawing at your fingernails, worried as hell for the men you cared for so deeply. Only a few moments later do you hear their voices as they walk up the path towards your home, arguing with each other as usual.

You throw open your front door, running out to meet them with teary eyes and a smile that wobbles as you try not to cry tears of relief, "You're back! I was so worried I-" Jiyan pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly, nuzzling his nose into your hair and breathing in your sweet scent.

"No need to worry anymore, I'm here...", he coos softly earning him a harsh glare from Geshu Lin. Geshu Lin pulls you from Jiyan's grasp and into his own embrace. "I'm here too", he speaks through gritted teeth, keeping his golden eyes narrowed at Jiyan who gives him an incredulous look in return.

You breathe out a laugh as Geshu Lin practically squeezes the life out of you, "I'm happy you're both here." You pull back slightly, only able to because Geshu Lin allows you. You look between the two of them with a little smile, "Let's not fight. We're all here together, so let's enjoy this moment." Geshu Lin grumbles and Jiyan gives a hint of a smile.

"Tell me what I can do to make you both happy", you speak, eyes flitting between the two pairs of intense golden eyes as you offer a solution like you always do. Geshu Lin's lips twitch up in a slight smirk which Jiyan catches, releasing a breath as he addresses him, "Be nice, Geshu..." You raise a brow and Geshu Lin's smirk widens as something glimmers in his dangerous gaze, "No promises."

With that, Geshu Lin scoops you up, making you yelp in surprise as he carries you over his shoulder, practically kicking your door down as he enters your home with Jiyan following behind.

Once inside, Geshu Lin sets you down on the bed unceremoniously which makes you laugh out of both surprise and amusement. Jiyan stands by the edge of your bed, watching Geshu Lin's every move, golden eyes flickering between the two of you.

Geshu Lin begins to peel of his clothes piece by piece with a smirk plastered on his fierce but handsome face. His toned muscles ripple in the soft light of your room, pale cock twitching against his abdomen. Jiyan follows suit, stripping off his clothes and tossing them in a pile on the floor.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you take in the sight of your two best friends bared before you. Their bodies are different yet similar, equally captivating and littered with old scars. Jiyan is the first to move, kneeling between your legs as his hands travel up your thighs, "You're going to be a good girl for us, yeah?"

You breathe out a small 'yes', to his words, making the corners of his lips curl up as he stands back up, both men looking down at you with a mix of danger and pleasure in their eyes. "Then strip", Geshu Lin chimes in with a sharp command as he slowly strokes his cock.

Your breath hitches at his command. Sure this wasn't anything new between the three of you, but only ever separately. You never thought you would be pleasing them both at the same time, but you would do absolutely anything for them. You strip off your tank top and bra, nipples hardening as the cool air of your room brushes over them.

Next comes your shorts, fingers fumbling the with button and zipper as you tug them down your legs along with your panties, exposing yourself fully to your friends' hungry grazes. You watch as they exchange a glace, their silent communication passing through them as though they've finally agreed on something for once.

Their eyes linger on your body as if committing every inch of you to memory. They both approach with predatory grace, Geshu Lin stands close to your face and Jiyan stands in front of your spread legs. Geshu Lin takes your chin in his free hand, tilting your head up to look at him.

"Here's how this is gonna work, doll. You're gonna lay back and put your head over the side of the bed so I can fuck that pretty mouth of yours", his voice steady and commanding.

He nods his head towards Jiyan, "And Jiyan here is gonna play with that pussy." "But don't you even think about cumming until I give you permission to do so", he growls out.

All you can do is nod before you lay back, positioning yourself in the way Geshu Lin told you to. Your head hangs off the side of the bed, Geshu Lin's cock throbbing in front of you as Jiyan crouches between your legs once more, licking his lips at the sight of your twitching hole.

Jiyan's fingers trace over your folds, spreading them as he exposes your wetness. Two fingers tease your entrance, watching intently as your juices glisten in the soft light and make his digits slick.

A soft gasp has your lips parting, allowing Geshu Lin to angle his cock into your mouth. A low groan escapes his lips when he pushes past your soft lips and stretches your mouth open.

The sudden intrusion makes you clench around nothing as Geshu Lin's taste floods your senses. A garbled moan rises from your throat as you feel Jiyan's fingers press against your wet entrance, teasing you before pushing inside. The dual sensations make your body quiver with need and lust.

Each noise you make sends shockwaves of pleasure through Geshu Lin's cock, making him thrust a little deeper. He reaches down, squeezing your breasts in his hands as if using them to anchor himself to you. "Fuuuck... That's right, doll. Take my cock", he moans as he forces his length deeper down your throat, making you choke slightly.

Jiyan's fingers continue to pump into you, his own cock throbbing with need when he feels you clench around his soaked digits, desperate for something bigger to fill you up. His thumb finds your swollen clit, rubbing circles over the sensitive nub.

When Jiyan's finger curl up against your spongy, sweet spot, your back arches up, pushing your chest further into Geshu Lin's grasp. Geshu Lin releases one of your breasts only for his palm to crack down against it, making you let out a choked cry around his cock.

"You better hold off that orgasm, doll. I haven't finished yet", he growls. Jiyan chuckles as you writhe against the sheets, fingers continuously curling up inside of you. "Aww, having a tough time, love?", he coos teasingly, relishing in the way your body aches for more.

You try to speak, to beg them to allow you to cum, but all that comes out are muffled whimpers around Geshu Lin's throbbing cock. You squirm again, helpless against Jiyan's expert fingers, feeling as though your body is on fire. With a snarling growl, Geshu Lin pulls out of your mouth as you gasp for air, "Fuck it. Get on your hands and knees. I'd rather cum in your ass instead."

Jiyan's eyes snap up to his at his sudden change of mind, but pulls his fingers out of you, making you whine at the loss. Jiyan slides onto the bed, leaning back against your headboard as he beckons you towards him, cock twitching and leaking against his stomach, "Why don't you come up here and ride my cock, love?"

Geshu Lin gives him a sharp glare as he interferes with his plans. As you sit up, you look between the two men, one with a playful smirk on his lips as he pats his lap invitingly and the other has a dangerous look in his eyes that dares you to go against him. Geshu Lin scoffs when you crawl over to Jiyan, straddling his lap instead of following his orders.

Jiyan's smirk widens at your choice as he looks up at Geshu Lin, "Uh oh, seems she might have a favorite~" Geshu Lin snarls at his teasing words, but his eyes can't tear away from watching as you sink down on Jiyan's thick cock with a shuddering moan. Jiyan lets out his own breathy groan, eyes fluttering and head lolling back as he bottoms out inside of you.

Geshu Lin's own cock aches and leaks, still desperate to finish what he started. He climbs into the bed, positioning himself behind you. He grabs your hair, twisting it in his fist as he tugs your head back, "I'm not gonna let you two have all the fun."

He presses a searing kiss to your lips before releasing you as Jiyan's hands slide up your waist, pulling you to lean forward against him. With this new angle, Geshu Lin can see the girth of Jiyan's cock stretching out your cunt and your little asshole twitching in anticipation.

Finally, a little smirk plays on his lips as he lines up his tip with your smaller hole, spitting on it and watching as his saliva drips down towards Jiyan's cock. You suck in a breath when you feel it push and tease against the small ring of muscle.

Jiyan licks up your neck, nipping at your pulse point before pressing a soft kiss in the same spot. His breath ghosts against your slick skin as he teases you, "Relax... You can take it, can't you?"

You bite your bottom lip and nod, making the corners of his lips curl up as his eyes lock with Geshu Lin's in a silent confirmation before pressing another kiss to your neck, "Good girl." You let out a sharp cry as Geshu Lin pushing his cock into your ass the same time that Jiyan thrusts up into your wet cunt.

Geshu Lin hisses as your tight muscles throttle his length, "Fucking relax... Shit...." You feel so incredibly full having both of them inside of you at once, the sensation is utterly overwhelming. You try to hard to relax despite the insane stretch in both of your holes as your body struggles to accommodate them.

Jiyan reaches down, playing with you clit to help ease the pressure. "You're our good girl, aren't you, love..." You relax a little, your breasts squished against his broad chest as you whimper.

Jiyan's eyes flit back to Geshu Lin's with a nod. With zero warning, both men begin to thrust into you holes, making you gasp and moan so beautifully for them.

Both men let out husky groans, eyes rolling back as their cocks rub against each others through the thin layer of skin that separates them. The extra pressure and stimulation sends them reeling as they begin a steady, but brutal rhythm.

Jiyan's cock hits the deepest parts of you, pressing up against your cervix with each deep thrust, while Geshu Lin's cock pushes deep into your unexplored depths.

Tears spring in your eyes from both pleasure and pain. Jiyan continues to rub your clit furiously, bringing back that familiar heat that coils up inside of you as they ravish your holes.

Geshu Lin grips your jaw, tilting your head back as he kisses you with a heated and possessive passion. His tongue pushes and moves against yours as his grip tightens and his hips buck forward erratically.

Watching his friends kiss each other sloppily sparks a possessive and jealous flame within Jiyan. Wanting to bring your attention back to him, he grips your hips and thrusts up especially hard, smirking when you gasp against his friend's lips.

Geshu Lin rolls his eyes as he pulls away from your lips, but moves his hand down to your throat, squeezing lightly. "You're pathetic, you know that?", he scoffs.

You can't tell if that comment was meant for you or for Jiyan but the degradation of his words has you clenching down on both their cocks, making them moan.

Jiyan rubs your clit faster as he spurs on your impending orgasm, "Come on, baby. Cum for us." Your eyes flutter and Geshu Lin applies more pressure to your throat as he whispers harshly in your ear, "I wanna feel you squeeze my cock again. Bet you like being fucked in the ass, huh, doll?"

You whimper, wanting to protest but that would be a fucking lie. It doesn't take long for the coil inside of you to snap as your juices gush all over Jiyan's cock. Both holes milk their cocks for all they're worth as they both shudder and groan, releases load after load of sticky, hot cum inside of you.

Their cocks throb and twitch as they begin to soften inside of you. With another shared look between them, they pull out of you at the same time, making you mewl from overstimulation. Their golden eyes lock onto your holes as their cum drips and and dribbles down your thighs and onto the sheets below.

"Goddamn...", Geshu Lin rasps at the sight. Jiyan feels his spent cock twitch again, arousal pooling in his belly once more. You collapse against Jiyan as he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close. Geshu Lin sits down beside him and puts his fingers under your chin, making you look to him.

"Give me a kiss", Geshu Lin's voice is softer now, but still holds that commanding edge. You lean towards him, pressing your lips to his gently. He sighs into the kiss, feeling all the tension release from his body. When you pull back, Jiyan redirects your gaze to him, pointing to his own lips with a slight teasing smile, "Me too, love."

You smile a little at both of their antics, but lean forward, kissing him just as softly. Jiyan smiles against your lips before you pull back. Looking between the two of them, your closest friends since childhood, you feel your heart ache with love in your chest.

Leaning forward, you embrace both of them, catching them off guard, "I love you both. I'm glad you're here with me." The sentiment makes them swell with emotions they would rather keep under wraps, but they both love you. They truly do. Always have.

၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊||၊꧂၊၊|

a/n: whew it got a lil emotional at the end there🥲

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 167 }

peaches.

husband!jinwoo sung x wife!fem.reader

{ i get the feeling, so i'm sure | hand in my hand because i'm yours | i can't, i can't pretend, i can't ignore you're right for me | don't think you wanna know just where i’ve been, oh… }

when you first married your husband all those years ago, you didn’t think that your life would turn into something extraordinary-

almost too extraordinary.

of course, jinwoo sung had always been the sweetest, most kindest man alive. upon meeting you in college, he had stolen your heart with that mysterious smile and strange, glowing eyes of his. the way his soft ebony locks of hair fell across his features along with the way his full lips was turned up in a sheepish grin was enough to steal your heart instantly.

when the man began courting you was when you realized that your lover could do things that many normal people couldn’t do.

for starters, he had a strange, dark aura that constantly surrounded him. those wispy shadows would catch your attention, and before your gaze could follow them for too long, jinwoo would grab your chin and distract you with a kiss-

(which unfortunately for you, worked every time.)

the more you spent your time with him, the more you began to realize that those same wisps that exuded from his form would ultimately surround you as well. you recall the first night you had seen them after working a late shift at the diner that was your job during that time. once you had clocked out and stepped into the cold, night air, you swore you saw something shift within your shadow. curious as to what it was, you step closer to one of the streetlights, hoping that it would further accentuate your shadow-

only to nearly scream when you saw what looked like five pairs of glowing, purple eyes looking back at you. after the realization, you gasped and took a step back, suddenly finding yourself in someone’s arms, jinwoo’s happy voice whispering within your ear.

“hello, my beloved treasure. are you ready to go home?”

your head was spinning, looking at him, then back at your shadow to see it return back to its slender shape, glowing eyes all gone as your head began to spin. swallowing thickly, you turn around to hide your face within his chest.

“hm, what’s wrong, sarang?”

“it’s nothing.”

maybe you were just tired, that’s all. you didn’t want to worry jinwoo and tell him how you saw glowing, purple eyes staring back at you.

perhaps you should take his advice and stop working such late shifts after all?

instead, you ignored those feelings of suspicion, simply cuddling closer to jinwoo as he walked back with you to your shared apartment (completely missing his sigh of relief when you didn’t bring up his soldiers seen in your shadow.)

you didn’t know why you ignored all the strangeness surrounding your beloved boyfriend, but perhaps it was due to the fact that he was such a walking green flag that you truly didn’t care nor mind.

ultimately, he was the best thing that ever happened to you, and who were you to give him up so easily?

after years spent dating, jinwoo finally proposes to you at the ripe age of 27, with you accepting his proposal within seconds. you recall basking in his sweet kisses before proceeding to make love with him the night of his proposal, further cementing your promises of forever with him.

after your marriage, you didn’t think of such weirdness ever again… choosing to simply ignore the shadowy wisps as you correctly guessed that they were meant to protect you-

however, it all reached a boiling point when your son, suho, reached his first birthday and began floating across the dining room table. your eyes go wide, seeing him glowing as the shadowy wisps surrounded your baby boy. he had gotten upset when you didn’t let him eat his birthday cake. one moment you were telling suho to wait for his papa, and the next he was floating above you with pieces of his cake clutched tightly within his tiny grasps.

jinwoo told you he had some work to do at the station, but you were too panicked to wait for him to come home tonight. in your anxious state, you called him right away, feeling grateful that he answers on the second ring.

“hello love-“

“jinwoo…! suho is… he’s floating and the shadows are trying to help him down… but he’s not coming down!”

you follow your child in hopes of catching him if he ever decided to come down, hearing jinwoo shift around a bit on the other line.

“don’t worry, sarang… i told you that i know how to fly, too, right?” amusement was heard in his voice, and you felt a sense of pure annoyance flooding your veins.

“you most certainly have not told me such things! and i expect a full explanation when you come home!”

“wait, my love-“

“and i mean everything, jinwoo sung!”

you hang up the call quickly, watching as suho took a nose dive back into your arms. filled with a sense of relief, you felt your son smear his cake all over your blouse and take a step back-

only to detect the faint scent of your husband’s cologne as his powerful arms were felt wrapped around you.

“how do you manage to do that?” you hiss at him, eyes weakly glaring at him when he holds you even tighter to his chest. again, he had appeared when you needed him the most.

“later, my love… i’ll tell you later… first, let’s celebrate our suho’s precious birthday.”

“bah!!!” suho’s eager cries for his father makes your heart melt, easing your anger just the tiniest bit. you pout while transferring suho into jinwoo’s arms, snickering when your son manages to smear even more bits of frosting and cake against his turtleneck sweater.

the next few hours were spent with you finishing up dinner and celebrating suho’s first birthday with his lopsided cake. never wishing to remain too far away from you or suho, jinwoo settles your form on his lap while you held on to suho, cleaning the crumbs of his cake off of his mouth as your husband cuddled close to you and your son.

when nightfall came and jinwoo helped put suho to bed in his crib, you stayed close by with your arms crossed over your chest. when he shuts suho’s door, his solemn, grey eyes meet with your gaze. you gesture at him to follow you out into the balcony, and he does so while wrapping a hand around your waist.

you slide open the glass door and close it, speaking in hushed tones so as to not disturb your neighbors. “i turned a blind eye to many things when it comes to you jinwoo… solely because i love you so damn much.”

he hums, holding you tightly in his embrace while momentarily looking at the skies.

“from shadows that seem to surround me to your strange glowing eyes-“

“we have a history together, my love.” jinwoo interrupts you, not looking away from the sky.

his words make you look up at him. “obviously, we do. we’ve been together since the start of college.”

“no… before that. way before that.”

taking advantage of his strength, he turns you around so that you were now facing him. his eyes glow that same, startling hue as his hands gripped at your shoulders tightly. “if you wish to know the truth, the whole truth, then say the word. i’m no longer the coward i once was… i’m certain i can keep you by my side regardless of what happens.”

you let out a shaky breath before giving him a nod as your final answer.

he brings you closer to him now, surrounding you within his powerful embrace as he kisses you fully on the lips. the shadows dance around you once more, as you saw a faint glow surrounding your form from beneath your closed eyelids-

and that single action alone was enough to pull the curtain away from your very memories.

there were gates and hunters… monarchs and monsters that threatened to destroy all of humanity…

and there was you and jinwoo…

a hunter with his healer…

all at once, you felt your vivid memories returning back to you, the onslaught of visions being too much to bear that you had a hard time discerning all of them. you end up falling against jinwoo, his arms being wrapped around you in a comforting manner as he prevented you from slumping against the ground.

your head was pounding, yet despite the pain, you manage to look up at him, seeing jinwoo with his eyes clenched shut as tears streamed down his face.

“i’ve been so alone- i’ve kept this burden of mine a secret for so long, and this may be selfish of me, but- i’m truly so happy that you know.”

you shake your head and push through the pain, leaning up to kiss him deeply as he delves his fingers into your hair. as the full moon shone brightly against your entangled forms, you knew that jinwoo had always been your soulmate from the start.

as you spend the following years in marital bliss, you gave suho a little sister named sera, a precious little girl who held both yours and jinwoo’s features while having your eyes. even at such a young age, suho swore to protect his little sister while allowing jinwoo’s shadow soldiers to surround both of them.

yet there was a growing concern between you and jinwoo when it came to your children. after all, jinwoo wanted both suho and sera to live a relatively normal and peaceful life, forcing him to lock away their memories pertaining to the powerful nature of their father (a power that they were sure to inherit someday.)

after jinwoo had erased your children’s memories, you spent the night in your children’s room comforting them, with beru crying while clutching on tightly to suho’s drawing depicting beru holding hands with both him and sera. as the former ant king leaves the room, you whisper to jinwoo.

“will you leave them in the dark forever?”

he shakes his head, bringing you into his embrace while pressing a kiss against your hair. “no, not forever. they’re both still too young… and i’d like to give the fruits of our love some happiness… after all, being children of the shadow monarch is no easy burden to bear…”

you hum in agreement, moving your head so that you could meet his lips in a searing kiss. regardless of what the future would bring, you swore to always remain by jinwoo’s side, all while protecting and raising your children…

“mom, if you keep cutting the cucumbers too much, it’ll be like baby food.”

you snap out of your reveries just then, looking down to see a 10-year old sera looking up at you with an innocent expression. you giggle and pick up the slender girl, allowing her to sit on the counter as you placed the cut cucumbers into a bowl for tonight’s kimchi.

“thank you for helping your mama.” you smile and brush your lips against your daughter’s forehead, earning a giggle from her.

“mama, where’s oppa…? it’s getting late.”

you purse your lips, looking up at the clock to see that it was 6:45pm… sera was right. usually suho would come home from school at around 3pm with your husband joining later around 8 to 9pm.

“my queen, do not fret, for your husband and young monarch are here…” tusk whispers in your ear, making your eyes widen in response.

as if on cue, the door was heard opening, with jinwoo carrying an unconscious suho in his arms.

“oppa!” sera calls out to her brother, jumping off the counter to meet with her father, “papa, is he okay? is oppa hurt?!”

jinwoo chuckles, ruffling his daughter’s hair with a fondness. “your oppa is fine, he just has a little headache. how about you keep him company until he feels better?”

sera gives him a determined nod, following jinwoo into suho’s room when you decide to put all of the ingredients for tonight’s dinner back into the fridge.

after all, jinwoo had a lot of explaining to do.

while waiting for jinwoo’s return, you poured him an ice cold glass of lemonade, filling it to the brim and offering it to him when you felt his arms suddenly encircle around your waist a couple of minutes later.

“thanks, honey…”

you face him, watching him drain the entire glass within seconds.

“where’s sera?”

“staying by her brother’s side until he wakes up. i told her to keep a close watch on him, he should feel better when dinner’s ready.”

you nod and lean against the kitchen sink. “and… just what did you do?”

you take a moment to admire him, feeling a sense of womanly pride filling you at the fact that he was your husband. despite how it was clear that jinwoo had aged, with slight wrinkles against the corner of his eyes and corner of his lips, he still looked as handsome as the day you first met him-

perhaps even handsomer than before.

settling the empty glass to the side, he wraps his arms around your back. “i was testing him, to see if he was ready to fully inherit my abilities. i even made a system for him to help level up as well.”

you hum and sway back and forth in his arms. “and…?”

jinwoo scoffs, “he is far from ready… filled with overconfidence and a cockiness that’s seen in all teenagers his age. suho has been too spoiled, never once facing the dangers or the fear of death… and such inexperience could lead to his downfall.”

your husband’s words manage to earn a laugh from you. “weren’t you just as cocky back then, too?”

jinwoo rolls his eyes, playfully taking your hand before gently biting down against your fingertip. “there’s a difference between fighting to protect what matters and when to stop when victory cannot be achieved. suho has yet to learn that."

he sighs when he sees the concerned look in your eyes, bringing you closer to him as he presses a lingering kiss against your forehead. “i just want him to be able to protect himself and sera if anything were to happen to us… and at the moment, he’s not ready to receive the full gift of my powers just yet.”

you let out a hum and rest your head against his chest. “our babies are growing up so fast… it’s crazy how far our family has come. i trust you and your judgement, jinwoo. because regardless… i’m so happy that i was able to be the mother of your children.”

“and you have no idea how happy i am to be the father of your children.”

after spending a few extra moments sharing kisses, jinwoo smiles down at you while framing at your face with his two hands.

“how about we order some fried chicken with all of our children’s favorite side dishes… as a treat and an apology for scaring our son?”

you giggle and roll your eyes at your husband and his playful smile, feeling your heart become alight with pure love for him-

praying that such bliss with him and your precious kids will last for forever and a day…

{ done being distracted | the one i need is right in my arms | your kisses taste the sweetest with mine | and i’ll be right here with you 'til end of time. }

a.n. - i was so desperate to write for hubby!jinwoo, and i’m so happy at how this turned out 🥹 i apologize for any errors, since i wish to get this posted asap!

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[mariclerc]

Biker love | cl16

Summary: An unexpected encounter with a biker ends up in the best way possible.

Warnings: fluff, biker boy/tattooed Charles and shy reader.

Part 2, part 3

You find yourself in a cozy, well-lit bookstore, bookshelves line the walls. You are a little bit shy and somewhat innocent with glasses, sitting at a small table surrounded by a bunch of books and notes. You're scribbling furiously on a notebook.

You sigh and put the pen down on the table. “Okay, okay... so the French Revolution...” you mutter to yourself.

Suddenly a loud motorcycle engine roars outside, you glanced out the window, your brow furrowing in concentration at the unexpected sound.

You shake your head. “It must be someone new in the neighborhood... But that motorcycle look so cool.” you murmured to yourself.

You returned to your books, ignoring the loud noise.

An hour later. You gather your books, preparing to leave after a long study session. As you stand up, you bumped into a tall guy covered in tattoos. He's wearing a full black outfit and exudes a confident aura.

“Whoa there, careful!” says the boy holding you to prevent you from falling to the floor.

He chuckles, his eyes twinkling. You blushed profusely. “I-I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking.” you fumbled with your books, trying to pick them up at once.

He smiles. “Let me help you with that.” He bends down and easily gathers the scattered books.

You smiled shyly. “Thank you.” your voice is barely a whisper.

He shakes his head. “No problem. Are you okay? You look like you’re about to faint.” he grins, revealing a charming and warm smile.

“I’m fine, really. I'm just a little clumsy, that's all.” you laughed nervously, your cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink.

He smiles. “Don’t worry about it.” he says softly. “Hey, what's your name?” he asked.

“Y/n” you say softly and shyly.

“Charles.” He says and extends his hand, you grab it and shake hands. “Oh I’ve seen you around here before when I ride around the block, you’re the girl who always sits by that window.”

“Oh! You’ve noticed?” You're surprised and flattered.

He nodded. “Yeah, I couldn’t help but notice the concentration... You look like you’re solving world problems or something.” He winks, and your heart skips a beat.

“Something like that, I’m just a student.” you giggled while looking down at your books, feeling shy again.

“Student, huh? What are you studying?” he asks.

“History.”

“History? That’s cool! I’m not much of a history buff myself, but I like learning about stuff.” he smiles.

You both stand there for a moment, a comfortable silence between the two of you.

“Well, I better get going. See you around, bookworm.” He gives you a friendly nod and walks towards the door.

“Bye.” you say softly.

You watched him leave, a small smile playing on your lips. As he walks out the door, you noticed him jumping on his motorcycle again, your heart races for a different reason now.

***

The arcade is a neon-lit, bustling haven of noise and games. People of all ages are engrossed in various machines. You look slightly out of place in an oversized sweater and jeans, while you try to navigate a claw machine. It's a Saturday afternoon and you needed to get away from your assignments and uni work and what better way to do that than to go to an arcade?

“Come on, just a little more...” you muttered to yourself.

You're concentrating intensely, your cheeks flushed with determination. Suddenly, a strong hand appears next to yours on the machine.

“You need a little help with that?” you hear Charles' voice.

You jumped, startled. It's Charles, grinning at you.

“Oh! You startled me.” you laughed nervously, your cheeks turning pink.

“Sorry about that. You look like you're about to break that machine.” He chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“I was trying to get that plushie! I like to have some of them at home.” you say shyly, a little afraid that he will think you are childish.

“Aww, that's so sweet. Let me try it.”

With a confident smirk, Charles takes control of the claw machine. A few deft movements later, the plushie is plummeting towards the exit chute.

You look at him in amazement. “Wow! You're good at this!”

Charles hands you the plushie. “Thank you! So, what are you doing here little bookworm? Studying or just taking a break?”

You shake your head. “No, I was just taking a break from studying.”

He giggled. “Hmm, understandable... To solve world problems you need to take a little break.” He winked at you, and you feel a flutter in your stomach remembering how he had said last time that it seems like you "solve world problems".

You two wander through the arcade, trying different games. Charles is surprisingly good at everything, while you are more of a casual player, but you still have fun.

He laughs. “You're terrible at this, you know.”

You're playing a racing game, and your car has just exploded. “Hey! It's not my fault. Your car is too fast!” you say while laughing and he does the same.

As you play, you started to talk more freely, Charles shared stories about his motorcycle, his tattoos, and his job (which turns out to be as a mechanic). You smiled while you listened, captivated by his easygoing charm and nice sense of humor.

“So, you're a mechanic? That's so cool.”

“Yeah, it's alright. It keeps me busy.” he shrugged.

There's a comfortable silence between the two of you as you continue to play.

“Hey, I'm getting hungry. Want to grab a bite to eat?” Charles' asked while looking at you.

Your heart skips a beat. This is the first time he's asked you out, even if it's just for food.

You smiled at him. “Sure, I'd like that.”

A smile spreads across Charles' face as you leave the arcade and walk through the mall until you reach a classic, old-school diner, filled with the comforting glow of neon lights and the soft rock music that plays in the background. You and Charles are seated in a booth, the empty plates pushed aside.

“So, tell me more about history. You know, I've always been curious about the past.” He says as he finishes drinking his soda.

You smiled, visibly relaxed, you're animated when you talked about your passion. “Oh, there's so much to tell! Like, can you imagine living without electricity or cars? Or when people believed the Earth was flat?”

Charles listens intently, nodding occasionally at your words and interesting theories.

“That's super crazy! I can't even imagine a world without my phone.” He says and you both laugh.

As the conversation flows, there's a comfortable silence between you two. You look at each other, and for a brief moment, there's a connection, a spark.

“You're really interesting, you know that?” he says softly and shyly at you.

“Thanks! You're pretty interesting too.” you say while blushing at his words.

A comfortable silence falls between you two again, Charles reaches across the table and softly takes your hand.

“I've had a really good time tonight.”

Your heart races, you squeezes his hand back gently. “Me too Charlie...”

He smiled at the nickname you just gave him, you two sit there, holding hands, the world around the two of you fading away. The diner's soft glow casts a romantic ambiance.

“Hey, do you want to go for a ride on my motorcycle?” he asked softly you and your eyes widen in surprise and excitement.

“Really? I mean, I've never been on a motorcycle before.” you say softly.

“Don't worry, I'll take care of you! It'll be fun, I could also take you home.” he smiles showing off his dimples.

You hesitate for a moment, then you nodded enthusiastically.

“Okay, let's do it.” you say while smiling.

As you two stand up to leave, Charles pulled you in for a quick hug. Your heart skips a beat. This is a new level of intimacy, and you're both scared and excited.

***

The city is alive with the glow of streetlights. The wind whips through your hair as Charles drives his motorcycle. You're wearing his leather jacket, a little overwhelmed by the sensation of speed.

“This is so crazy!” you let out a nervous laugh.

He laughs. “Relax, I've got you bookworm.”

His voice is steady and reassuring. You cling to his waist tighter and you can feel him relax a little at your touch.

You two weave through traffic, the city lights blurring into a colorful stream. The wind in your hair and the rush of adrenaline are a thrilling combination.

“I can't believe I'm doing this.” you giggled.

“You're doing great princess. Just enjoy the ride.”

Suddenly you two pull up to your apartment building, a modern structure bathed in soft blue light.

“And we're here.” you say shyly while you dismounts carefully, your legs feeling a little wobbly.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, just a little shaky.” you say nodding.

Charles smiled and helps you off the bike. “You'll get used to it.” he giggles.

You two stand there for a moment, the silence between the two of you filled with unspoken words.

“I had a really good time tonight, y/n” he smiles while tracing a finger over your cheek.

You blushes. “Me too, Charlie!”

Your eyes meet, and there's a clear attraction between you two. Charles takes a step closer.

“Can I see you again, princess?” he says softly.

“I'd like that.” you say softly at him.

Before she can say anything else, Charles slowly leaned in and kisses you. It's a gentle, sweet kiss that leaves you completely breathless.

“I'll call you princess.” he gives you a kiss on the forehead. “Have sweet dreams.”

He says and gives you one last smile before turning and getting on his motorcycle. As he drives away, you watches him, your heart pounding... You feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness, it's the first time you feel so special with a boy.

Your turned to face your apartment building, a new sense of confidence and adventure filling your body. Tonight has been a night you won't forget.

***

The gentle glow of fairy lights illuminates the cozy living room in Charles' apartment, you are curled up on the couch, wrapped in one of Charles' oversized sweatshirts, you look content as you flips through a science magazine. You've been dating for a couple of weeks now, but there's already that feeling of trust and affection between you two.

“Oww, my little bookworm baby is all comfy and cute.” he says while entering the room holding a mug of hot chocolate in hand, he hands it to you.

“Thank you, Charlie. It's super cozy here!” you take a sip of the hot chocolate and sighs contentedly.

He smiles. “You're welcome, my little sunshine. How about we watch a movie?” he asks.

You nodded. “That sounds perfect.” you giggled.

Charles picked up the remote and starts browsing through some streaming services. The truth is that the idea of "appearances can be deceiving" is very real, since anyone who sees Charles may think that he is a rude and perhaps aggressive guy... But he's actually a pretty sweet and nice guy, plus he's super attentive and affectionate with you and you really love that.

“How about a classic rom-com? To set the mood, you know?” he asked and you giggled.

“Okay, but don't laugh at me if I cry at some sad scene.”

He shakes his head. “Never, my little baby.”

He ruffles your hair affectionately while you two settle down on the couch, you snuggled close to Charles. As the movie starts, Charles wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer to his body.

“You're so small and cute in my sweatshirt.” he says softly.

You blushed and hide your face in his chest, he laughs softly. “Stop it, you're embarrassing me.”

“Aw, come on, don't be shy, my little bookworm.” He kisses the top of your head.

You two watch the movie in comfortable silence, interrupted only by occasional soft laughter or whispered comments at some scenes. As the movie reaches its climax, you grabbed Charles' hand, your knuckles turning white.

“Oh no, don't let this happen!” you whispered softly.

“Don't worry, baby. It's just a movie.” he looks at you tenderly.

He chuckles, squeezing your hand reassuringly. When the movie ends, you sit in silence for a moment, the afterglow of the film still lingering.

Suddenly Charles' sighed. “You know something love? I can't believe how lucky I am to have you.”

You looks up at him, your eyes filled with love. “Me too, Charlie... me too.”

You two share a tender kiss, the world melting away around you two. It's a soft and slow kiss, as if you didn't want the moment to end. You two break away from the kiss and you snuggles deeper into Charles' embrace, feeling a sense of peace and security you've never experienced before. The warmth of his body and the soft rhythm of his breathing lull you into a state of relaxation.

“I feel so safe here.” you say, your voice is barely a whisper. Charles tightens his arms around you, pulling you closer.

“You're always safe with me, baby.”

He kisses the top of your head, and you close your eyes, savoring the moment. Your fingers, drawn by an irresistible impulse, begin to trace the intricate patterns of Charles' tattoos.

“You like my tattoos?” he asked, his voice is low and husky.

You nodded. “Uh-huh, they're really cool.”

Your voice is soft, almost shy. You continue to trace the lines and shapes, your fingers lingering on certain parts.

He starts to explain the meaning of one of his tattoos, his voice filled with a sense of pride and ownership. You listened intently, your eyes wide with fascination at his words.

“Wow, that's really beautiful babe.”

You reached out and touched the tattoo gently, your fingers brushing against Charles' skin. A shiver runs down his spine.

“Mhm, you're making me feel all tingly inside.” He chuckles softly, and you blushed.

“Oh... So- Sorry about that.” you say shyly.

“Don't be sorry. I like it, it's a good feeling baby.” he whispers. He pulls you closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Maybe you should draw on me sometime.”

Your heart skips a beat. The idea of touching Charlie in such an intimate way is both exciting and terrifying for you.

“I don't know how to draw properly.” you say in a whisper.

“That's okay baby girl. I'll teach you.” he smiles and gives you a little peck on the lips.

He turned you around so that you're facing him and your eyes lock, and a spark ignites between you two. You had never felt so comfortable and attracted to someone in your life, but since he arrived into your life, everything has changed significantly and you know you've changed his life too.

[katsu28]

sent and delivered

pairing: bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader

summary: after your scheduled coffee date with bradley, your friendship progresses into something more over time. (7k)

part 2 to return to sender

warnings: swearing, some use of Y/N

a/n: hello again my tgm family!! went a little overboard with this, but thank you to my sweet @familyvideostevie, who came up with this beautiful friends to lovers plotline for a part 2 literal ages ago, and the lovely @starryeyedstories for putting me in my rooster feels again <3

You shouldn’t be so nervous for coffee with Bradley as you are right now. You’ve already changed your outfit at least twice, sifted through your pantry for a suitable accompaniment to coffee so many times you’ve lost count, and as the clock ticks its way to noon, genuinely debated on making an excuse to bail. 

A few careful deep breaths clears your mind a little, reminds you that no, you aren’t going to bail on Bradley. You’re going to see this thing through if it’s the last thing you ever do, fight or flight response be damned. 

You’re a jumble of nerves as you finally make your way over to his apartment, just like the first time you met him.

Only this time it isn’t because you were afraid he was an asshole (you know now that he was the in fact opposite), but because your crush on him has grown tenfold just overnight. 

See, you’d spent a good chunk of the time you were meant to be asleep last night on the phone chatting with him about anything and everything, never a lull in the conversation until the sun started to peek through the curtains and the birds began their daily morning song.

He’d sounded sad when you announced you had to grab a few hours of shut eye, but murmured a soft see you later that had your heart thudding a little faster in your chest. 

Maybe you even buried your face in a pillow and squealed a little the moment you hung up, but he doesn’t need to know that. 

You knock on his door firmly, shifting the package of Oreos from hand to hand nervously as you wait. 

The door swings open to reveal a smiling Bradley, and suddenly all your worries seem to fade away. 

He’s wearing jeans and a well-fitting Hawaiian shirt this time, which would’ve looked tacky as hell on anyone else, but Bradley found a way to pull it off. He still looks way too damn good for someone who’d been up the whole night. 

“Hey!” He exclaims, beckoning you inside with a smile. You mirror his smile, but before you can return his greeting, he brings you into a hug. He smells of fresh laundry and sea breeze and something heady that you can’t quite put your finger on but like nonetheless. “Long time no talk.” 

You let out a huff of amusement. “Right, because seven hours is just such a long time.” 

“Sure felt like forever,” He replies, reaching around you to shut the door. His arm grazes against the small of your back as he does, a fleeting touch that still manages to make you shiver. Maybe Bradley notices, because he lets his hand linger for another second, expression shifting into something softer as he eases the cookies out of your hands. “This for me?” 

“Uh, yeah! I hope you like Oreos, ‘cause it’s really all I had,” You say sheepishly, folding your arms around yourself in an awkward attempt to seem normal. 

“I love Oreos. Thank you.” He bobs his head quickly. “Anyways, welcome, come on in, make yourself at home.”

Bradley’s apartment has the same layout as yours, but other than that it looks like a completely different place. 

While you’d decorated your space with all sorts of odds and ends, posters and paintings and a plethora of knick knacks adorning your shelves, Bradley’s is…kind of empty, save for a few sports posters and some workout gear scattered in the hallway leading to the bedroom. A piano sits over by the window that gives the place some character, but other than that it doesn’t really look like this is anyone’s home. 

It’s as if he feels you taking in your surroundings, because he chuckles awkwardly, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “It’s plain, I know. Definitely won’t be winning any awards for interior design.” 

“Oh, I dunno, the minimalistic look is really in these days,” You hum, shrugging nonchalantly. 

“You’re too nice to me. I’m not here a lot of the time, so I haven’t really done the whole ‘making it feel like home’ thing yet. I’ll get to it though.” He admits, kicking aside a lone pair of shorts. “Anyways, uh—forget this, why don’t we keep moving on into the kitchen?” 

The kitchen is much more interesting than the rest of the apartment, mainly the wall of postcards and photos next to the fridge that catch your eye immediately.

“Now, this is more like it!” You gasp, beelining for the wall to look at them. Postcards of sandy beaches, snowy mountains, and everything in between. Pictures of a younger and current Bradley with whom you assumed were his fellow Navy buddies, smiling wide for the camera like he’s having the time of his life. A few more older photos of a woman and a man who looks just like Bradley with a kid who you assumed was Bradley. 

You feel Bradley’s presence come up behind you, hear him inhale a sharp breath. “Those are my parents.” 

“You look just like your dad.” 

“Yeah, that’s what everyone says.” 

“And your mom is beautiful.”

“She was.” You know better than to pry any further than that. One day, maybe, but not any time soon. He sniffs once, then clears his throat. “You, um, you want some coffee?” 

You leave the wall to come settle on one of the barstools across the counter from him, propping your chin up in your hand as he pulls open a cabinet.  “Ah, the infamous coffee maker! Damn that thing is huge.”

“Don’t come for me, but I’ve still only figured out how to make one thing,” He warns, pointing at you with a mug. “Hope you like black coffee, ‘cuz that’s all you’re getting.”

“Black coffee is perfect.” 

“I have milk if you take yours with some. Only almond milk though. Supposed to be better for the bones, according to Hangman.” Bradley nods his head towards the fridge. “S’in there if you need it, help yourself.” 

“First the machine, now the milk—this Hangman must be a trustworthy guy if you take all your coffee tips from him.” 

Bradley laughs, a loud belly laugh that sends a tumbling feeling through your chest. “Dude’s a total knucklehead, but he means well. I think you’d like him.” 

“What’s that thing they say about a person’s friends being a reflection of themselves?” You muse teasingly, tilting your head. 

“I know you didn’t just call me a knucklehead!” 

“Your words, not mine.” You lift one shoulder, letting it drop with a look of feigned innocence. 

“Funny.” 

As always, conversation with Bradley is never dull. Even though you’d talked for hours on end the night before, there is no shortage of stories to be told, life stories shared over coffee and Oreos like you’ve known each other forever. 

Somehow you wind up here, talking about how you both ended up in the same apartment complex. You’d found this place on your own and were immediately sold on it. It was affordable, not too small but not too big, and quiet enough for you. Seemed like a perfect deal had fallen right into your lap. 

Bradley, on the other hand, had found it a completely different way. His friend Nat had been going out with a total douchebag of a guy who just so happened to be looking for a place at the same time Bradley had been, sharing his apartment hunt findings with her. 

She found out he’d been seeing another girl behind her back the whole time, kicked his ass to the curb, tipped Bradley off on the open spot in the complex, and Bradley swooped in to nab the place before the cheating son of a bitch could even blink. 

“You did not!” You gasp, covering your mouth with your palm in shock. 

“I did!” Bradley laughs, nodding enthusiastically. “Never liked the guy anyways. And what was he gonna do, confront me about it? Dude was a total coward, he wasn’t gonna come accuse me of jack shit!” 

“You’re smart, Bradshaw, I’ll give you that.” 

“Apparently not smart enough to know that my mail was being sent to the wrong apartment for months. Again, I’m really sorry about that.” 

“It wasn’t a big deal, I keep telling you that,” You insist, shaking your head. “I didn’t mind, really.” 

“How come you didn’t tell me earlier?” 

“Honestly? I thought you were kinda scary,” You admit sheepishly, ducking your head in embarrassment. 

It feels silly even admitting it, knowing now who Bradley actually is doesn’t fit your perception of him by a long shot. But at the same time, admitting it feels somewhat freeing, like you’re letting go of someone you never knew to make way for someone you’d really love to get to know more. 

Bradley’s eyes widens, mouth falling open just the slightest bit in shock. “Scary? Me?” 

“Yes, you! I dunno if you’ve seen yourself from another person’s eyes, but you look intimidating! You’ve got that whole big tough guy look going on, and I’m not great with confrontation.” 

“And what do you think of me now?” He asks softly, settling his chin in the palm of his hand as he meets your gaze intently. There go your nerves again, swirling in the pit of your stomach like a whirlpool threatening to suck you in. 

You inhale a deep breath, letting it come back out as a sort of breathy chuckle. “I think you’re not at all what I thought you’d be.” 

“In a good way or a bad way?” 

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Anything I could do to sway the odds in my favor?” 

Your mouth is suddenly drier than a desert despite all the liquid you’ve been downing, palms clammy against the ceramic of the mug clutched in your grasp. 

You aren’t ready to answer that question, even though you already have an inkling of the things he could do. So you do the only thing you could think of to get yourself out of this situation. You change the subject. 

“I…um—I really loved the chandelier when I took a walk through of the place,” You blurt, jerking your chin over at the sleek fixture above the dining area to draw Bradley’s attention to it. “Really brings the whole place together. Or, it would if mine would stop flickering all the damn time.”

His face falls just the tiniest bit at the sudden change of subject, but his features twist in curiosity within a split second. “Wait, really?” 

“Yeah, yours doesn’t?” 

“No, mine’s been fine since I moved in. Have you tried taking a look at it, see what’s wrong?” 

You offer him a sheepish smile, bashful now. “This is really embarrassing, but I’m—I’m kind of scared that it’s gonna fall on me if I mess with it. Y’know, revenge of the light fixtures and all that?” Bradley’s mouth lifts at the edges, and you could tell he’s fighting another smile. “Don’t laugh at me! It’s a legitimate concern!” 

“Not laughing!” He clears his throat, giving his head a little shake to keep his composure. But even then, there’s no mistaking the amusement in his eyes. “Chandeliers are very scary.” 

“I knew I shouldn’t have said anything,” You groan, hanging your head. Bradley’s soft chuckle brings a flaming warmth to your cheeks. 

“I could…take a look at it, if you want?” 

Your head whips up to stare at him. “Right now?” 

“Today, yeah. If you’re free after this, I mean.” He shrugs, giving the spoon in his cup a few stirs. 

“For real?” 

“I have tools. I’ll take a look, see if it’s an easy fix and if not, we can call maintenance.” 

“You’re walking a slippery slope, Bradley Bradshaw. If you can get the chandelier working again there’s no guarantee I won’t be calling you for every other household problem in the future.” 

“No complaints here.” 

After you’ve both finished your coffee, Bradley grabs his toolbox from under the stairs, and now you’re both standing in the entryway of your own apartment. You feel him taking in your space the same way you did his, your cheeks flaming hot at the clutter of things all around. 

“It’s usually a lot tidier than this, I swear. I’ve just had a lot of deadlines at work and I haven’t gotten the chance to put everything back in its place.” 

Bradley just smiles, giving a noncommittal shrug. “S’no big deal. I like it.” Everything he got from spending more time with you, he could see it reflected in your space. And as cliche as it sounded, he felt more at home here than he did in his own apartment. 

He sets his toolbox down, grabbing a set of pliers and hopping up on the table with ease to poke around the chandelier for a while before fiddling with something. 

He climbs back down, wiping his hands on the front of his jeans and tossing the tool back into the box, planting his hands on his hips. “Looks like one of the wires was just a little loose. The bad connection caused it to flicker, but I tightened it a bit so it should be fine now. Maybe try it and see?” 

You hurry over to the light switch, flicking it on hopefully. Normally it would start to flicker immediately, but when ten seconds go by and the light shines bright, you beam. “So you’re an electrician too, huh?” 

“Hardly. One of my buddies is though. Sometimes he needs an extra set of hands so I tag along with him, see what I can learn.”  

“Well either way, you’re a godsend!” 

“Just glad I could help.” 

“Let me cook you dinner! I have—” You exclaim, shuffling over to the fridge and pulling it open only to be met with nearly bare shelves, save for a few containers of old fruit and condiments. “—nothing. I have nothing, because I was supposed to go to the store yesterday. Well, this is embarrassing!” 

Bradley had followed you to the kitchen, sliding onto one of the barstools coolly. “No, this is all very reassuring, ‘cause I’ve been meaning to go shopping too but I keep putting it off. Glad to see I’m not the only one with poor weekly grocery trip skills.” 

“I’m sure that was meant to be reassuring, but it really just makes us both sound sad,” You groan, slumping over onto your own stool.

“Your words, not mine,” Bradley chuckles, echoing your earlier words with a cheery smile. 

You roll your eyes playfully. “Okay, I can fix this!” You exclaim, holding up a finger as you open UberEats on your phone. “We could do Thai, burgers, pizza—” 

“You don’t have to buy me dinner, really, I’m just happy I could help.” 

“You can say no all you want, Bradley, it doesn’t really matter to me. You’re staying for dinner, and we can either compromise and get something we both want, or I’ll order something you hate,” You insist, trying to sound as firm as you could. 

“You don’t give up easily, do you?” 

You grin at him, eyes alight with mischief. “No, I don’t.” 

“I like that.” I like you, he wants to say. He doesn’t. 

“What’ll it be then?” 

“I wouldn’t say no to some pizza. Got a six pack back in my fridge I could bring over too, if you want.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

“Of beer, that is,” He adds. “No relation to my giant package.” 

“Oh, you asshole! You swore you’d never bring that up again!” You huff, leaning over to swat at him. Bradley dodges you easily, an easy smile playing at his lips. 

“Okay, okay! I won’t say anything else about it, I promise.” 

“You’re lying.”

“Yeah I’m totally lying.” 

-------

And so it began, a saga of texting Bradley to see if the things in his apartment were as defective as yours, him coming over to help fix various things, and you scrambling to show your utmost appreciation for his help.

A broken thermostat meant going downtown for dinner and drinks at some new restaurant “just to try it out”, a leaky sink resulted in him guilting you into a Mission: Impossible marathon (and a whole lot of insisting the main character looked exactly like one of his Navy higher ups). 

That soon turned into you and Bradley spending more and more time at each other’s places, doing fuck all but enjoying each other’s friendship. And over time, that friendship grew a bit more-than-friends-like—he’d always flirt with you, you’d flirt right back—but neither of you had the guts to do anything about it.

Lingering glances, brushing hands that lasted a little too long to be innocent, inside jokes only the two of you were privy to. You’re almost positive he feels the same way about you as you do him, but every time you want to act on it, you chicken out. You've never been one for putting yourself out there, and that hasn’t changed. 

You’re about to turn in for the night today, going to close the window in your bedroom only to realize that the lock on the frame isn’t sliding into place the way it usually did. 

After jiggling it a few times to see if it would prove a quick fix and finding that it most certainly doesn’t fix a thing, you reach for your phone, instinctively sending off a quick message to Bradley without even really having to think about it. 

y/n: quick question! what should i do if my window won’t lock? 

Not five minutes after you hit send, your phone buzzes, Bradley’s name flashing across the screen for a video call. 

It’s odd, because usually when you text about something in your apartment not working the way it's supposed to, he just shoots back a message saying he’ll be right over. It’s nighttime, so you were honestly kind of looking forward to seeing him in his grey sweats and bicep hugging black tee combo. 

You give yourself a quick once over in your phone camera, smoothing down any flyaway hairs before hitting the answer call button. There’s a few beats of nothing as the call connects, but he’s on your screen soon enough, somewhere you don’t recognize and half-shrouded in the dark like he’s under something. 

“Something’s wrong with your window?” He asks, brow creased in concern. 

“Hi to you too, Bradley.” 

“Sorry, hi. But your window, is the lock broken?” 

“I think so? Usually when I go to turn the plastic lock thingy it clicks into place, but I tried it like four times and it’s not clicking, so…” You trail off, pouting. “D’you—I mean, are you busy right now? Would you mind popping over to take a look?” 

“Shit, I’m sorry, I’m actually not home right now. Won’t be for another few weeks.” Bradley frowns, scratching at his cheek. “I’m overseas.” 

“Oh my god, Bradley! I’m so sorry, I didn’t know!” 

“No, you’re good! If I was home, I’d be over in a heartbeat, but uh, unfortunately,” He sighs, gesturing vaguely at his surroundings. “Here, flip the camera. Lemme see if I can see what’s wrong from here.” 

“Are you sure?” You ask, gnawing on your lip. It seems wrong, still having Bradley be your on-call maintenance guy even when he’s somewhere probably a thousand miles away. But he nods enthusiastically so you oblige, flipping the camera so it’s facing the seemingly broken lock. 

You watch him blink a few times and squint at the fuzzy video screen for a little bit before sighing again. 

“Sorry, Y/N. I can’t see shit from here.” 

“Yeah no, it’s fine.” You shrug, flipping the camera back to face you. You prop your phone up on your windowsill, settling into a more comfortable position to chat with him. “Where overseas are you?” 

“Afraid that’s classified, ma’am.” He bows his head in apology, but there was a teasing smile on his face. “See, I could tell you. But then I’d have to kill you.” 

You let out an amused chuckle. “Oh, really?” 

“Unfortunately. And you’re too pretty to meet that end, so I’m gonna have to keep my whereabouts a secret to save us both the hassle.” 

Pretty. Bradley thinks you’re pretty. 

You have to fight the smile threatening to break your composure. “How gracious of you.” 

“Isn’t it? I surprise myself sometimes,” He sighs good-naturedly, looking all too pleased with himself. “But seriously, talk to the super about your window, have them get the maintenance guy to take a look. Don’t think I’ll be able to sleep til it gets fixed.” 

“Aw, you worried about me, Bradley?” You tease, pouting playfully at him. 

He rolls his eyes. “You know I am.” 

“I’ll call the super tomorrow.” 

“Not today?” 

“I’ll let you know if someone breaks in through my third floor window.” 

“Hey, you never know! People are stealthy,” Bradley protests, shifting to a sitting position and subsequently hitting his head on the bunk above him. He lets out a hiss of pain, rubbing the top of his head with a grimace. 

“Some people are, but you’re definitely not,” You snicker, to which Bradley gives you another eye roll. “Are you about to go to bed?” 

“I was gonna, but I’d much rather talk to you.” 

That nearly makes you swoon. God, Bradley is good with his words. Damn him. 

“Go to sleep, I’ll let you know when it’s fixed. Wouldn’t want you worrying your pretty little head about me all night.” 

“Pretty little head,” He echos, tilting said pretty little head to the side. 

“It’s, uh, it’s just a figure of speech,” You insist, feeling your cheeks grow embarrassingly warm. Funny how they always do that whenever you’re talking to him. Or thinking about him. Or thinking about talking to him. 

Bradley just smiles again. “Sure is.” 

“Goodnight, Bradley.” 

“Night, sweetheart. I’m expecting that text to be there when I wake up.” He hangs up before you can register the nickname, but you can’t stop the giddy grin breaking across your face when you do. 

First he calls you pretty, now he’s calling you sweetheart. He’s getting bolder. You aren’t sure if that means he feels the same way about you, or if it’s just his personality. Even after you’d known him for almost six months, you still can’t tell. 

-------

Bradley rouses from his sleep at five on the dot, throwing himself into his Navy enforced routine until lunchtime, when he could finally sit down and check his phone. Upon powering it back on and glancing at the homescreen, he sees that he has two notifications from you. One of them is a selfie of you beaming next to your newly fixed latched window, sending him a thumbs up. 

Shit, you’re so pretty. It makes his heart ache to be away from home this time, not able to help you when you need it. 

The other is a text to accompany the photo. 

y/n: window is fixed. hope you sleep well tonight knowing no stealthy people are gonna break in :)

He snorts softly, a smile overtaking his face as he taps out a reply. 

bradley: i won’t worry my pretty little head about it anymore. 

y/n: you better not be texting me from the jet!! 

bradley: and so what if i was? i’d call it multitasking. 

y/n: i’d call it damn stupid, lieutenant. can’t have my handyman ditching me, so come home in one piece, k? 

“Now who in the world could you be texting that’s got you cheesin’ like a big ol’ idiot right now?” Hangman’s voice drawls from across the table, drawing Bradley’s attention away from his phone and to the rest of the squad, who all look at him with the same expectant expressions. 

“Five bucks it’s his girl from back home,” Payback chimes in, smirking knowingly. 

“I’ll take that action, please and thank you,” Fanboy replies, smacking his hand into Payback’s for a shake to seal the deal. 

“She’s not my—have you guys been creeping on my texts?” 

“Well, not creeping per se,” Phoenix reasons, holding her hands up in defense. “I was only trying to send myself that picture of Bob sleeping with that marker mustache when she texted.” 

Bob makes an incredulous noise, head whipping towards his front seater. “You guys said there were no pictures!” 

“Nothing, nevermind,” She hums, waving him off. “Back to the subject at hand. Y/N. Rooster’s girl.” 

“How d’you know her—hold on, how the fuck did you get into my phone?” 

“Your password is your birthday, dumbass. You should really change it, by the way. Cybersecurity is no joke.”

“Whatever. She’s not my girl, by the way. If any of you cared to know. We’re just…friends.” 

“See that hesitation between just and friends? Bradshaw’s a liar!” Hangman whoops, drumming his fingers on the table. “He wants to be her boyfriend!” That last word comes out a teasing singsong, making Bradley roll his eyes. He’s right, of course, but he doesn’t need everyone knowing that. 

“Real mature, Hangman. Real mature.” 

“Can’t argue with the truth, Rooster.” 

-------

You soon discover that life is pretty boring without Bradley around. There’s nobody to bother when you get bored, nobody to make dumb jokes while you watch a movie, nobody to force you to go out even though you don’t want to. Bradley was always the one to do all those things with you, and he isn’t here. Sure, you’re still able to text and talk, but it isn’t the same. You miss him. 

So when your doorbell rings and you aren’t expecting anyone, your mind immediately goes to Bradley. You quickly give yourself a once over in the mirror in the foyer, making sure you look at least halfway presentable before pulling open the door excitedly. 

Bradley’s already beaming when your eyes land on him, but his smile gets even wider as he takes you in. He looks the same as the last time you saw him, although definitely better than he did on a grainy video screen. He’s a little tanner than you remember, shoulders a smidge broader, but still the same Bradley you’d grown some big feelings for. 

“Remember me?” He jokes, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

You give him a once over with a tilted head, frowning. “Sorry, no. I think you might have the wrong apartment.” 

“Oh, she’s funny now!”

“Okay, ouch. I’ve always been funny, Bradshaw,” You huff, but the smile stretching your lips tells him you’re anything but annoyed. “Welcome home.” 

You aren’t sure if you should hug him but you do anyway, wrapping your arms around his neck, breathing in his achingly familiar cologne. Bradley settles into your embrace almost like he’s melting, letting his nose drop into the dip of your neck as he hugs you back a little too tightly. Not that you’re complaining about it. 

“Glad to be back. Missed you.” He straightens up as soon as those last two words leave his mouth, backing away almost jerkily with a hand flying to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“I missed you too, Bradley.” 

The edges of his mouth quirk up into the beginnings of a smile. “So me and my buddies were gonna head to our usual spot for drinks tonight, kinda like a being back stateside, welcome home type thing. I’d really like it if you came with me.” 

“Oh, no, I couldn’t.” You shake your head profusely, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. Bradley’s head cocks in confusion. “It’s your time with your friends, I don’t want to impose.” 

“You won’t be. I want you there, I want you to meet them all,” He insists, looking entirely sincere. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive. Come with me, please.” 

You gnaw a little on your lip in contemplation, only managing to hold out a few seconds under his intense gaze before giving a small defeated sigh. “Okay. I’ll join you.” 

“Great!” He beams, looking rather pleased. “Now tell me everything that happened while I was gone. And spare no detail either, I need to catch up on the complex gossip. Did that kid Andrew ever stop banging on his drums until three in the morning? Does that family across the parking lot still go on walks with their wailing baby or has that sucker settled down yet? I need to know.”

After bringing Bradley up to speed on everything, it’s time to meet his friends. 

Rowdy isn’t sufficient enough to describe the Hard Deck. A Navy joint through and through, the whole place is decked out floor to ceiling with model jets and patches and other various related memorabilia.

The group Bradley leads you towards seems to be the loudest of them all, scattered out around a pool table in the back corner chatting amongst each other and looking happy to be home. 

The first person to notice Bradley’s arrival is a dark haired woman with a pool cue in her hand, which she swings his way upon sight of him coming up next to her, nearly taking off his head had he not stepped back a little. “Bradshaw! Tell Bagman he’s insane if he thinks he can chug a beer in under five seconds, tell him that!” 

“No, you tell Phoenix that I can do whatever I—well, hello there,” The blond man—Bagman, you assume—stops mid sentence when he lays eyes on you, dropping the offended look and aiming a pearly white smile your way. “And who might you be?” 

“Not gonna happen, Hangman,” Bradley warns. He looks entirely serious about it too. 

“Oh, so you’re the Hangman this guy always talks about,” You lilt, ignoring the gentle shove Bradley gives you in return. 

“Aw, Roo, you talk about me?” Hangman drawls, grinning wildly. “Way to make a man blush!”  

“Yeah, yeah, don’t flatter yourself.” Bradley rolls his eyes playfully, giving his head a shake before introducing you to his friends. Each of them has a unique callsign that seems to fit them perfectly. Your favorite name is Coyote because of how cool it is, but you’d never let Bradley know that. 

The woman Hangman had been bickering with, Phoenix, inhales a sharp breath, her eyes bouncing between you and Bradley with barely contained glee. “Oh my god, you’re Rooster’s girl! He’s been—”

Bradley clamps a hand on Phoenix’s shoulder before she can continue, cutting her short. “Alright!” He blurts, giving her a quick few pats. He angles his head towards you, offering a guilty smile. “Sorry about her, she’s drunk. Doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” 

“Move the hand or you’ll lose it, Bradshaw,” She says slowly, pinning him to the spot with a death stare. Bradley retracts his hand instantly, looking intimidated as he does so and Phoenix aims a grin your way. “He’s well trained, I promise. I think maybe you’ve had something to do with that?” 

“I dunno about training, but I’ve taught him a few tricks.”

“What am I, a dog?” Bradley splutters, looking from your grin to Phoenix’s and huffing out a sigh when you both nod. “I feel attacked! This is so unfair.” 

“I like you. We need to get you a drink,” Phoenix says very as-a-matter-of-factly, holding up her empty glass towards you as proof. “Any preference?” 

“Surprise me?” 

“Copy that.” 

You watch her retreat over to the bar, casting a quick glance at your surroundings to make sure nobody is paying attention before leaning in towards Bradley, who mirrors your actions almost instantaneously. 

“Rooster’s girl?” You chuckle, raising an amused brow. You’d never admit it out loud, but you like the nickname. It meant that he told his friends about you. Maybe not in the way you’d wanted them to learn about your existence, because he’d probably told them you’re just friends, but nice nonetheless. 

Bradley goes positively pink in the face. “It’s, uh—s’nothing, my friends just like to mess around.” 

“Okay.” You shrug trying to play it cool while simultaneously fighting the urge to squeal like a damn schoolgirl on the inside. You ought to earn some sort of medal for your performance. 

You soon fall into easy conversation with Phoenix and her backseater Bob when she returns with drinks. It isn’t until Bradley finally leaves your side to go play a round of pool with some of the other guys that she props her chin up in her hand, smiling knowingly at you. 

“So…you and Rooster?” 

“What about us?” 

“Are you guys…y’know,” She gestures vaguely in the air, tilting her head over at Bradley. “A thing?” 

“Oh my god,” Bob mutters, so soft you barely even hear it. He looks mortified at his partner’s very not subtle insinuation. “Nat, you can’t just ask her that.” 

“Oh no, it’s okay! We, uh—Bradley and I are just friends.” 

Phoenix doesn’t look like she believes you one bit, but she just nods reassuringly. “Well, just friends or not, you’re good for him.” Then she moves onto a new topic like it’s nothing, but her words echoed in your mind. 

You cast a glance over at Bradley a little ways away, where he’s chatting idly with another one of his buddies. 

You’re good for him. 

If anything, Bradley is good for you. He pushes you out of your comfort zone, he helps you come out of your shell. He’s the reason you’ve grown into a new person, one that the old you would never have even dreamed of becoming. 

Maybe your attention lingers a little too long, because he tears his eyes away from his conversation partner to meet your gaze, lips curling up into a grin as he nods at you in acknowledgement. Even from across the bar, you can see the soft twinkle in his eyes, the fondness and warmth in his smile causing your heart to swell in your chest. 

By the time you and Bradley decide to call it a night and head home, you already have an indefinite invitation to any and every squad function in the future (whether or not Bradley was present, Phoenix had added with a wink). 

“So…what did you think of ‘em?” 

“I like your friends. They’re nice,” You say earnestly. You mean it.

“Good. I’m glad. They really like you too, Phoenix and Bob especially,” He says casually, flicking on his blinker to turn left. You let out a pleased chuckle at that. 

The two of you chat like normal the rest of the way home once you both settle back into your usual back and forth, exchanging more stories from your respective lives until Bradley pulls into his assigned parking space. 

“Before I forget, I brought you back something.” 

“Oh?” You raise a curious eyebrow. 

He reaches over to your side of the car, fumbling around in the glove compartment for a few seconds until he procures what he’s searching for—a small postcard with a photo of a very picturesque beach. The corners are a bit bent from being shoved in there, but Bradley straightens them out as best he can before holding it out to you.  

Turning it around in your hands, you spot a note in his familiar chicken scratch on the other side, much tinier than you remember but only because it details how much he hated sharing a tiny bunk with Hangman, who was an avid sleep talker when he wasn’t snoring as loud as humanly possible throughout the entire night. 

One thing stands out to you though, the last sentence before he’d signed his name with a rather crooked looking smiley face—I miss you. 

“This town was near where we were stationed. I was gonna mail the card, but I wanted this first one to be special.” 

“Special?” You echo, tilting your head. 

“Yeah. Thought maybe it’d be fun if I send you one of these every time I’m deployed and you could start your own wall. That way whenever I’m gone and you miss me, it’ll—I dunno…remind you I’m coming home?” He finishes awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

You try your hardest to fight the smile threatening to overtake your face as you study the card intently. It’s very sweet of him, you think, that he wants to share this tradition of his with you. 

“Thank you, Bradley,” You say softly. “I love it.”

"I was hoping you would. I'm glad you do."

When he walks you right up to your door, he looks nervous, which isn't like him. You're about to ask him if he's feeling okay, but then he speaks.

“Hey, look, I—um, I’ve had a really good time these past few months, being your friend."

You frown a little. “Uh oh. Why do I feel like there’s a but coming?” 

“No! I mean, yes, but also—shit, okay, lemme start over.” Bradley shakes his head as if to clear his mind, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I’ve really enjoyed being your friend, but I don’t wanna be friends anymore.” 

Oh. 

Your heart may as well have fallen out of your ass at his words. Bradley didn’t want to be friends with you anymore? 

You must not have as good of a poker face as you mean to, because he quickly backtracks, eyes wide. 

“Fuck, no that’s not what I meant, I—jesus, I meant to say that I don’t want to be just friends anymore,” He blurts, letting his hands drop to his sides. “I really missed you while I was gone. More than I should’ve. And at first I just thought it was because we’re such good friends and because of how much time we’ve spent together lately and that’s why I felt like there was this chunk of me that was missing, but I realized it was more than that. I like you. A lot. So I don’t just want to be your friend anymore, I want to be…more.” 

Oh.

Bradley likes you. And you like him right back.

So, you do the only thing you can think of that will show him your feelings towards him. 

You lean forward, closing the gap between the two of you and kissing him right here and now. 

His palms smooth themselves down your back, fingers splayed across the expanse of it as he kisses you like his life depends on it. His mustache is scratchy, but you don’t mind one bit, not with the way he’s holding you against him, like you’re puzzle pieces slotting perfectly together at last. 

You pull away first with a hand against his chest, only slightly, just enough to look him in the eye when you tell him, “I like you a lot too, Bradley.” 

“Best news I’ve heard in a while,” Bradley sighs, tipping his head back with a sigh of relief. Then his brows furrow, eyes focusing above your heads. “Your light is out,” He says bluntly, squinting at the darkened bulb. “Did you know that?”

“Yeah, I know,” You chuckle. “I would’ve changed it, but the damn thing is rusted over, and my handyman has been out of town for a bit.” 

Bradley snorts, rolling his eyes playfully. “Hilarious. You got a spare lightbulb? I could change it right now.” 

“You could.” Now you’re feeling bold and you run with it, walking your fingers up his chest until they link around the back of his neck. “Or…you could change it tomorrow, after breakfast?” 

His brows fly high at that, tongue darting out to wet his lips nervously. “Tomorrow. Like, as in, you want me to stay the night here, and stay for breakfast in the morning?” 

“Well, yes. We’ve got some more catching up to do, don’t you think?” You ask innocently, though your insinuation isn’t quite so. Bradley’s inhale hitches in his chest at the silent message and he nods quickly, antsy now as you go to unlock the door. 

He’s on you the moment you get the door open, lips glued to yours even as you stumble across the threshold and into the foyer. 

“Wait, wait—” Bradley pants, pulling away only slightly. He’s got a hand skimming over bare skin under the hem of your top, mouth shiny with your lipgloss, and he’s telling you to wait. You raise an impatient brow. “As much as I want to—y’know, and I do, can we just…have a quiet night? I wanna take things slow, make sure everything is perfect.” 

“Okay,” You say, straightening out the collar of his shirt. You can get behind taking things slow. It takes some of the pressure off you to adjust to this big change. “Wanna find a movie to watch?” 

He perks up at that, grinning widely. “Hell yeah! There was some action comedy I wanted to see before I got deployed and I’m pretty sure it’s out on streaming now. Mind if we watch it?” 

You won’t tell him just yet since things between you are the newest they’ll ever be, but you’d gladly watch anything with him. Instead, you just nod. “Go for it. Mind if I go change into some comfier clothes really quick?” 

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be here.” 

Bradley’s queued up the movie on the TV already by the time you return, setting his phone aside when he hears you come back in. 

You’re not quite sure where you should sit, but then he extends a hand out towards you, beckoning you into the cozy space under his arm, and all your questions are answered. It feels like you fit right in when you nestle against him, head falling against his shoulder like its second nature to do so. 

“All good?” He asks, giving you a little squeeze and a fond smile. 

“Never better.” 

There’s no mistaking the happy gleam in his eyes, and you’re sure you have something of the same too. 

You think the whole mail mix up situation from a few months ago had been the best mistake to ever happen to you, because it led you to Bradley, who—and you might be a little forward with this thought—might just become one of the best things in your life. 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new writing :)

[elysianightsss]

WHERE THE LONELY ONES ROAM | PART ONE

“Can I have a glass of water?” You chirp from the hospital bed, pillows all fluffed and propped up for your comfort. He nodded grabbing the empty plastic cup from the bedside table and leaving the room.

John he said his name was, you were so confused as to why you should care after waking up and being told by the nurses you had been in a serious car accident. Your husband, he had claimed he was and though you were exhausted, you had been ready to argue that was impossible but he flashed his wedding ring that was silver just like the rings around your finger.

The diamond engagement ring and wedding ring fit perfectly, he pulled them off and on the inside rim was your initials and his engraved with a date, your wedding day he told you. You suppose that was enough for you, besides he seemed so sweet and caring. So comforting and husbandly, why would you try to argue against his words.

He stayed by your side as the doctor came to tell you that you’re suffering with amnesia and it was unlikely your memories would return. John relaxed at this, which you didn’t quite understand but maybe he was just relieved that nothing was broken. Just a cut on the side of your head and memory loss.

After being discharged with like a billion different pill bottles, he took you ‘home’, a large, cabin like house miles away from civilisation. A regular sized garden and lots of trees surrounding the area, the only way to leave the place safely seemed to be by car. Not that that should be something you need to worry about, your husband should protect you.

He carried you inside and placed you on the softest sofa. The living room looked lovely, pictures of the two of you in pretty patterned frames you’re sure you must have chosen given they’re suited to your taste. Though you notice a couple look a little distorted from close up, maybe it was the way the photo was taken or the lense? Or maybe it’s just old, you tell yourself.

John is in the kitchen, you can see him through the alcove that leads into the mid century modern kitchen. It’s designed once again to your taste, you hope your husband hasn’t just catered to you in this big house and he’s sprinkled somewhere in the architecture too.

He’s sorting the pills you were given by the hospital, reading the bottles intensely before moving onto the instructions and schedules for each one. You feel as if you’re not allowed to move from the position he’d plonked you in though he never specifically said those words to you. It’s a feeling deep in your gut that if you stand without asking for his help, he’ll be angry with you.

So you ask, he turns to you and grins? “You don’t need to ask to move around your own house, love. Unless you need help,” he says coming around the kitchen island and through the alcove into the living room, stopping right in front of you. He hovers over you, blues gazing into your eyes “then ask as much as you’d like.”

You nod slightly feeling a little like prey under this clear predator's stare. “Will you show me where the bathroom is?” You don’t remember where it is no matter how hard you try. John holds his hand out to you and though you hesitate, you take it. He leads you up the stairs and to the second door on the right, opening the door you find yet again an unfamiliar room but you thank him nonetheless.

He stays standing there even when you walk inside and close the door you don’t hear any receding footsteps. Shrugging you head over to the toilet to pee, as you sit you take a moment to look around the room. It’s only a small bathroom, a walk-in shower to the left or the toilet and a bunch of counters with a built-in sink to the right of you.

There are little things about yourself that you know, that are set in stone even without your memories and knowing you’d never like a house without a bath in it is one of those things. You loved a bath after a rough day at work…

Work. You stand quickly, finishing your business and washing your hands. You basically burst out of the sliding barn like door. John looks at you surprised though he remains quiet, is patient as you struggle to find your words.

“Work?” Is all you manage but he seems to understand, his pupils dilating unnaturally to where you feel a shiver run down your spine.

“You quit your job two years ago honey.” John says almost robotic, it seems rehearsed and cold. But you accept it. He starts to walk away when you have another thought.

“What about my family? I must have some right?” You try to grab onto any thin veil of hope that you have someone else out there other than a man you don’t remember.

John turns back to you, once again seeming robot like, “You have a brother who lives far away, I’ve notified him of what happened, but love, there’s no guarantee he can make it here because of work.”

“No parents?” You question confused, it makes John sigh with a shake of his head and a quiet ‘no’.

According to your husband you were an orphan, but that didn’t expunge the feeling of love and affection you seem to know you had growing up. A kind of love you don’t receive from a sibling.

He simply shakes his head once more. John holds his hand out to you and though you hesitate, you take it. He leads you into a bedroom, “This is our room.” He tells you letting go of your hand and watching you take it all in. This room is not catered to your taste but it looks like he’s tried to change that.

The dark blue paint has a few painting hung here and there, a dark oak wardrobe and matching queen sized bed. What peaks your interest the most though is the big glass window. John shows you how it opens up onto a balcony, you can see forest upon forest up here. There really was no other way to leave here safety.

“What’s my brother’s name?” You ask turning to John who smiles a little at your question, seems to be the only one that hasn’t irked him so far.

“Simon.” He replies softly, “Come on let’s go back in, it’s freezing this time of year. Should even have some snow over the next few weeks.” He tells you wrapping an arm around your shoulder to guide you inside.

John cooks dinner for you both and while you sit in the cozy dining room eating, all you can think about is Simon. Your brother who you don’t remember. You can’t wait to meet him, you refrain from saying this to John. He seemed annoyed when you originally asked about family. Maybe he and Simon don’t get along? You’ll have to find out from your brother, you suppose.

You offer to do the dishes but John stands firm on no. He does them quickly and efficiently, placing them away in the correct cupboards while you watch on silently. John doesn’t ask you if you’re comfortable sharing a bed with him, after all he is technically a stranger to you. It’s the only thing that has truly bothered you since you have woken up.

He simply gets into bed next to you, kissing your hairline and asks you if you need anything before he goes to sleep. You say no and hear the ruffle of the sheets, feel the movement of him turning over and soon you hear snores. It’s only at this point you notice your shoulders have been tense this entire time, only when knowing he’s unconscious do you relax enough to fall asleep.

The peace doesn’t last long, nightmares plague your mind. A man with you, you’re happy. A fight. Running. Driving. Then a car crash. Glass and metal flying everywhere. You’re upside down but still strapped into your seat. Warm blood dripping up your head. Footsteps. A light being shone in your eyes. The hospital. Beeping. Shouting in the distance. A big bang.

Then your eyes are shooting open with a scream slipping from your lips, vision blurry, you’re hyperventilating. Blue eyes come into view as arms wrap around your body. “Alright sweetheart, you’re okay. You’re safe. It’s okay I’ve got you.” The man comforts you and you have to ask panicked what his name is.

“It’s John, it’s me honey. It’s John.” He repeats it twice, nothing but patience in his voice.

“John.” You say loudly in between breaths.

The tendrils of panic wrap around your limbs, tightening at the same time John starts to rock you in his hold. He whispers calming words in your ear but they do nothing for the state you’re in.

“What the fuck.” You shudder, feeling like the ground is shaking beneath you. It’s like a dark cloud falls over your eyes as a ringing begins in your ears. Walls colliding in your head, you’re scrambling to understand, pulling open every file that’s been shut away in the far corners of your mind for this man, for this house, for this life.

For you.

It’s too much with too little information, you can’t do it. You don’t understand. Your brain trying too hard until everything goes black. Once again you hear the beeping of a machine, the fuses of a doctor M something. You hear a concerned voice you don’t recognise….

“Sweetheart?”

You startle because you don’t know who that is calling you a sweet little pet name, you flinch because you’re not in the hospital like you were two seconds ago. You feel a scream build and bubble in your throat because how the fuck did you get in the kitchen with a ruggedly handsome man stood in front of you looking at you expectantly as if you had the answer to the question he was asking.

Staring into his hypnotising blue eyes you couldn’t help but think, did it really matter? Your conscience needed to shut it because of course it mattered. He was a stranger no matter how good looking.

“Honey is everything okay?” You blink at him too in shock to form words.

The man moved towards you and as much as you want to flinch away, to run, you’re rooted to your spot. He’s so close you’re breathing the same air, he lifts his large, silver wedding ring wrapped around his fourth finger, hand and presses it to your forehead bringing his other hand to press it to your cheek.

“You don’t look so good love.” He’s probably right, “you’re burning up.” You did feel like you could throw up, “let’s get you to bed, shouldn’t have been trying to do the dishes anyway. C’mon now easy does it.” He breathes and picks you up, your eyes glance over his shoulder as he opens the fridge grabbing a cold bottle of water.

You look over his shoulder to an open recipe book on the kitchen counter. It’s not yours. It’s your handwriting on the pages but not yours. You don’t own a recipe book and never have, you liked to wing it. Yet you can see when you’ve noted ‘needs more cinnamon’ on one of the pages. The curves and winds of the letters, it’s your handwriting.

You get carried up the stairs and into a bedroom, placed carefully on a big bed that felt like a cloud. “I’m gonna grab a cold flannel for your head, be right back sweetheart.” He leaves and despite the wooziness that begins to seep into you, you manage to look around.

The room looks well organised, a bathroom just opposite the bed where he went, soft bed sheets, photos everywhere, one that catches your attention the most is a photo by the side of the bed with a picture of you and the man that’s in the bathroom both smiling and looking happy. The blue photo frame says ‘My John’ at the bottom in big white block letters.

“John.” You mutter just as you read it.

“Yeah love?” The man that carried you upstairs comes back with a flannel in his hand. He looks at you expectantly just like he had downstairs.

“I-I’m tired?” You choke out sheepishly.

“Are you asking me or telling me?” He grins cheekily before coming over to you and pressing the flannel against your burning head, “You had another episode honey. Asking or telling, I think it’s best you sleep.”

“Episode?” You don’t understand. Twinges of panic start to explode into something more, you feel like you need air and you can’t get it. Your hands ball into fists, squeezing around nothing. Your shoulders are ridged the way your brain is, it feels like it’s not longer working, that you’ve short circuited. It’s not right. Something is not right.

You’re pulled out of your frenzy by a bark, it’s makes you freeze eyes flitting to the perpetrator. A dog. But you don’t own a dog. “Easy Bear mums okay.” John soothes him, but the dog Bear, tilts his head as he sits in the doorway to the bedroom with a frown. A gurgled grumble comes out from him as he stares at you.

You turn slightly to look at John who’s already looking at you, his ocean eyes swirl with emotion. You recognise them, you remember them. They must be safe, he must be safe. Out of everything that doesn’t sit right, that doesn’t seem right, that’s out of place, he seems right. He’s what you remember. He must be safe.

“Okay sweetheart, you know I don’t like it but it’s probably best for you to take the medication Dr MacTavish prescribed you.” You watch almost as if it’s in slow motion as he grabs a small white cardboard box with blue and yellow stripes on it. He opens it and pulls out the familiar plastic tray with foil covering the top. He pops one of the bumps and pulls out a light blue pill that looks tiny in the palm of his hand.

“I don’t condone this.” He mutters to himself but it’s loud enough that you hear it though you don’t say anything. “But maybe it is what’s best for right now like he said and who am I to argue with a Doctor.” He scoffs but smiles at you from where he’s sat next to you on the edge of the bed.

If he couldn’t argue with a Doctor, then you couldn’t either you suppose. You look into his eyes again. You remember them, you should trust what you remember. Nodding a little you take the pill and pop it in your mouth. It’s bitter and the chalky residue it leaves on your tongue makes your face scrunch up with disgust. John passes you a bottle of water and you move quickly opening the lid and chugging some of it.

“Good girl. I know that wasn’t nice but you did good honey. You need to lay down now, Doctor MacTavish said you’ll feel dizzy and most likely sleep straight away.” He explains, his voice soft despite the perpetual gravely undertone to it.

“Okay.” You snuggle down into bed, gripping the soft covers almost oblivious to the fact you’d just taken a drug offered to you with no explanation. A dizziness sweeps over you like alcohol suddenly hitting you all at once and then you’re out like a light. John’s smile disappears from his face the moment he knows you’re asleep. He chucks the pills haphazardly onto the bedside table before getting up.

“Watch her.” He commanded as he walked past Bear, the dog staying in place as John walks out of the room and down the stairs starting on the dishes you’d been arguing about minutes ago.

As he scrubs it feels like meditation to him, scrubbing and scrubbing the dishes clean. He wants to do this to your mind, wants to scrub all your memories clean and start over but he knows getting Johnny to perform a lobotomy on you like he suggested would only hurt him to see you in pain. Not worth it.

He can make this work, he planned it down to the last minute detail. And so far it’s working perfectly. No lobotomy needed. Hopefully it should never have to go that far.

John finishes the dishes, does the laundry, ignores the text from Simon asking when to come over, hoovers the living room and puts dinner in the slow cooker before going to check on you. Bear hasn’t moved from his spot, something John praises him for with a pat to the head. You’d turned in your drug induced sleep, the duvet pulled up under your chin while you lay on your side looking more peaceful than you had all week.

He stares down at you. It feel wrong when it’s like this, when you’re not awake and distracting him. When he can hear the all the thoughts swirling, he can hear the voices, the screams, the gunshots… it’s all too much.

You quiet the noise.

“I hope one day you understand…” he sniffs, eyes stinging, wiping a tear from his cheek, “and I pray you forgive me.”

To be continued…

Taglist | @ry-kage @silverxxs-world @cringeycookies @skyfire93 @piconico17 @evans-dejong

[luffington]

guess ♡

✧.* art credit!

➤ summary: You bought a new set of lingerie as a welcome home present for Ace and he likes it a little too much. (18+)

➤ pairing: portgas d. ace x afab!reader

➤ word count: 2.4k

➤ warnings: panty kink, oral (f receiving), rimming, spanking, established relationship, fluff

➤ notes: i can't believe i haven't posted a fic about my number one babygirl on here yet :0 inspired by "guess" by charli xcx!! <3

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

It had been three weeks since you last saw Ace, which was practically an eternity. Being a pirate meant living a life of uncertainty and knowing every day could be your last – especially for someone as reckless as your boyfriend. You obviously loved the rest of the Whitebeard Pirates, but Ace was such a ray of sunshine that you felt like something crucial was missing without him. 

However, that only made it better when he returned to the Moby Dick – the longer he was gone, the more attention he gave you. And you were going to make the most of it.

The moment he saw you, he scooped you up in his strong arms, lifted you off the ground and pulled you into a nearly suffocating hug. You returned it with just as much fervor and held him as tightly as possible. Loving the feeling of his fiery body against yours for the first time in so long. 

“I missed you,” he murmured happily, pressing soft kisses into the crook of your neck. Not caring that you were in the center of the ship and surrounded by your crewmates waiting their turn to congratulate him on a successful mission. It didn’t matter – everyone was more than accustomed to Ace’s obsession with PDA. When his hands shifted their hold on your legs, he suddenly realized how tiny your skirt was. “Whoa, showing a lot of skin, huh?”

“It’s hot out,” you pouted prettily. “And you’re not wearing a shirt at all.”

“Fair enough!” Your boyfriend laughed lightheartedly. He grabbed the meat of your thighs appreciatively before setting you down to talk to other people. 

The ship was approaching a summer island, but the heat was a flimsy excuse for your incredibly revealing outfit – a low-cut tank top to emphasize your cleavage and a miniskirt which barely covered your ass. You had gotten a new set of lingerie as a welcome home present for Ace. Pretty pale pink with intricate lace accents but practically sheer everywhere else, leaving nothing to the imagination. Adorned with cute white bows on your hips and on the middle of your bra. It fit you perfectly, hugging your body just right and accentuating all of your curves and dips. 

As soon as the excitement around Ace’s return had died down, the two of you snuck off to the kitchen so Ace could raid the fridge. You were finally alone – perfect chance to begin your mischievous scheme. Ace told you a funny story from his time away while you poked at a small plate of food. Then you ‘accidentally’ dropped your fork, squealing in surprise and bending over to pick it up. Ace only meant to glance at you for a moment but his jaw dropped. 

Your skirt had ridden up and your two holes were almost completely visible, spread slightly apart from your position. You took your sweet time fumbling around for the fork – which was an inch away – and grinned when you felt Ace’s eyes burn holes into the back of you. Your boyfriend was nearly salivating, using every ounce of his (very limited) self-control to resist holding you down in that position and slamming his cock inside. 

“Got it!” You giggled coyly, standing up and facing a man ready to pounce on you like a feral creature. 

But your teasing didn’t end there. Throughout the day, you bent over and jutted your chest out several times, giving him a perfect view of your tits. You hoped he noticed that your bra and panties were a matching set. But if that wasn’t obvious enough, you stretched your arms above your head and let your tank top slide up to reveal your bra’s underwire and a hint of sheer fabric. Ace got quieter as time went on, his glances at you becoming longer and more predatory. You actually started to fear for your poor pussy and how wrecked it would be by the end of the night. 

Ace was a possessive man by nature. Once he had something precious, something he was afraid to lose, he latched onto it and devoted his life to it. You were hesitant to put yourself in the same category as Whitebeard and Luffy, since you’d only been dating for a few months, but he was undeniably very attached to you. Constantly desperate for your touch and praise and affection. 

You knew you had awoken a beast. Dangled a piece of meat in front of a hungry animal – and in front of your crew, no less.

When the sun began to set, you sat cross-legged on the main deck, laughing and casually drinking with your crewmates. You leaned over Ace's lap to grab another drink and intentionally placed your hips in his lap. He was literally seconds away from pushing those goddamn panties to the side and shoving his fingers deep in your cunt, not caring how many people were around. You looked back at him and blinked innocently. 

That was his final straw. You knew what you were doing.

“I, uh, have to get something from my room,” Ace mumbled, manhandling you to stand up with him and placing you down on shaky feet. He gave you a dangerous look. “You need to come, too.”

“What are you getting?” Marco chuckled, amused by Ace’s terrible attempt to be discreet. 

“Huh?” Ace looked comically confused, having already forgotten what he just said. “Oh, it’s my… um… the, uh…” He huffed in defeat and grabbed your hand firmly. “Whatever, let’s just go.” Your friends threw their heads back and cackled.

If Ace were a patient man, you could have made the most of his present and really put on a show for him. You would’ve slowly removed your clothes, moving your body sensually back and forth, revealing your skin inch by inch. Only giving him short glimpses of your lingerie and building up to the big reveal. 

‘Ace’ and ‘patient’ did not belong in the same sentence.

“You little brat!” Ace growled playfully as he slammed the door behind him. He pushed you onto your shared bed with a giant grin on his face. “Been teasing me all fucking day with those panties. Is this what you wanted?”

“Close. I’m still wearing way too many clothes for what I had in mind.” You said with a cheeky smile. Ace looked ravenous, like he wanted to devour you, as he crawled across the bed and hovered above your body. 

“I really fucking missed you.” Ace groaned in a raspy voice. Despite the arousal rapidly pooling in your core, you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered — that was at least the tenth time he’d said that today. 

Plush lips crashed against yours. Ace was objectively a good kisser, but his eagerness often overrode his experience, trying to claim your mouth immediately as if there was a clock ticking above his head. This kiss was extra sloppy, your boyfriend desperately trying to make up for those three long weeks by licking at your mouth and shoving his tongue down your throat. You moaned against his lips and eagerly reciprocated everything he gave you. 

You pulled off his hat and threw it on his nightstand so you could run your fingers through his greasy hair and hold him close. Your other hand brushed over his freckled shoulders then wrapped around his back, covering the lower half of his Whitebeard tattoo. When he broke the kiss, a line of spit connected your mouths. 

He sat back and practically ripped off your skirt. Well, there goes your striptease. “Take off your top. It’s a matching set, right? Wanna see the full effect.” He licked his lips hungrily as you followed his orders, and he practically drooled like a puppy when you were left in nothing but your carefully chosen lingerie. His dark, lust-blown eyes roamed over your body, filled with raw carnal desire. “Fuuuuck. Maybe I should go away more often.”

“Don’t you dare.” You pouted, even though you knew it was impossible to keep him away from you.

Ace grabbed your tits harshly, squeezing them and rolling them in his large hands, rubbing your nipples through the sheer fabric. You whined his name and reached underneath you to undo your bra’s clasp so you could feel his touch on your bare skin. He immediately slapped your hands away.

“Leave it on.” His eyes were hooded, his breathing heavy. “You got all dolled up for me. Let me appreciate it.”

Apparently, ‘appreciate’ meant littering your chest with bites and bruises, sinking his teeth into your soft skin and making you cry out before soothing the bite with his messy tongue. His desire to consume you and make you his own rivaled the intensity of the all-consuming fire that flew from his fists. He moved further down, nipping at your tummy and rubbing your hips. Right when he was about to reach your panties, he flipped you onto your stomach, knocking the air out of your lungs. 

“Ace, slow do–” You yelped when he smacked your ass, loving how your squishy flesh jiggled. You tried to look back at him but he pushed your head flush against the mattress.

“Sorry, babe, can’t help myself. It’s been too fucking long since I ate this sweet little cunt.” He slapped your butt again with a smug grin. “Ass in the air, darling.” 

You pushed yourself onto your knees, arching your back prettily. He let out a low whistle of appreciation at the sight of your pussy and asshole barely concealed by your panties. Bunched the fabric in his hand and pulled it upwards until your lower lips wrapped around it in a cameltoe. The wedgie forced a constant pressure on your clit. Without warning, Ace smacked your pussy hard.  Delighting in the way you cried out and shifted your hips, desperately seeking more friction from the panties wedged inside your cunt. 

“What a slut,” he chuckled in satisfaction then spanked your pussy again twice. The indecent sound echoed around the bedroom and caused more slick to flow out of you. Ace finally released his grip on your panties and fixed them back into their original position. Then he flattened his tongue against your crotch and licked a long stripe from the tip of your clit, along your dripping cunt, up to your asshole and finished at the top of your crack. You whimpered desperately, craving that hot, wet muscle on your skin instead. 

He held your hips firmly in place and went back in to repeat the same motion. Licking you through your panties like a man starved, flicking his tongue against your covered hole and slurping at the wet spot consistently growing. 

“Ace, fu-uck, feels so good…” Your chest heaved. “Need more, need you.” 

“Good thing I’m right here,” he chuckled, pausing to suckle at your nub. “I think about your pussy all the fucking time when I’m alone. How warm and tight you are, how well you take my cock. How pretty it looks with my cum dripping out of it.” He paused to spread your asscheeks, smirking at the way your holes stretched. “Makes it taste so much better when I come home.”

He pinched your abused clit, making you jump. Then he tensed his tongue and forced it into your pussy through the fabric – a strange yet oddly enjoyable sensation. Ace’s rough fingers dug into your ass and thighs to pull you impossibly closer to him, rubbing your cunt on his face. His thumb pulled your panties to the side to only expose your asshole, then licked your puckered hole with broad swipes of his tongue. 

“Mhmm, Ace!” You squealed, already losing the ability to think. 

“Missed this hole, too. Can’t forget about her.” The wet muscle circled your rim before dipping in. He swirled the tip of it inside you messily, moaning in satisfaction. Ace worshiped your pussy, but he was such a whore for anal. He could eat your ass for hours on end – on several occasions, you actually had to push his head away from you to snap him out of a trance. But not wanting to neglect your cunt, he ran two fingers up and down your clothed slit.

“Are you really gonna make me cum through my panties?” You pouted. “I wanna feel your tongue on me.”

“We’ve got all night, pretty thing,” he replied with a smug grin, but his own need to taste your juices fresh from the source overcame him. He grabbed the waistband of your undies between his teeth and carefully pulled them down the curve of your ass to reveal your pretty cunt. Normally, he would’ve torn through your underwear without a second thought, but he was sure he’d go crazy if he never saw you in those panties again.  

Ace literally whined when he finally tasted your bare pussy, flicking his tongue wildly inside you. He could drown in your cunt and die a happy man. He palmed his cock through his shorts, knowing that his own underwear was definitely stained with precum. 

“Fuck, ‘m so close…” You panted. “Ace, I can’t – Ace…”

His name sounded so delicious spilling from your lips and made his dick grow impossibly harder. “Anytime you’re ready, darling.” 

You practically screamed when your high hit you, clenching the bedsheets for dear life. Ace never took his mouth off of you once, happily sucking up every drop of slick that poured out of you. As soon as your orgasm finished washing over you, your body went limp and your hips collapsed to the bed. Seconds later, Ace’s entire body flopped on top of you, his warm chest pressed flush against your back. He grabbed your chin, turned your head to the side and kissed you deeply, his mouth and chin covered in your juices. 

“I’m still mad at you for teasing me, y’know,” he mumbled between soft kisses on your cheek and forehead. “Gonna have to punish you for that.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t snap sooner,” you giggled, intertwining his fingers with your own. “I expected you to jump me the minute you got on board, no matter what panties I was wearing.”

Ace hummed in thought. “Maybe I kinda wanted to be teased.” It sounded like a revelation, like he had never considered his own actions. He had such a one-track mind that it was completely believable. “Well, it wouldn’t be much of a punishment, anyways. I have three weeks worth of cum built up for you and you’re getting it no matter what.” He grinned excitedly. “Hope you’re ready.”

[sitepathos]

I've been thinking about a what if for gold and mold

It's pretty simple

Let's say one of the Batfam was chasing killer croc and they come across reader and they managed to save his life

So reader begins to get clingy with them, but not in a sweet "were family again" no, reader is very traumatized and uses them to remind himself he is still alive.

So he's not hugging them, he's clasping their forearm with enough strength to leave a mark, because he wants to make sure he can still move his hands.

And he talks to them, but not about their day or something like that

Reader is asking then simple trivia/math equation, to make sure that he can still have a conversation,

So while the rest of the family is jealous of the time they spend with reader, the member in either is horrified or tries to take advantage of the situation (depending on which member the scenario is for, I decided to keep it in n general)

What do you think? Is it interesting?

A very interesting idea! Hope you don’t mind if I add onto it a little! In this scenario, you were still shot, but were rendered in a brain damaged state and the Batfamily picks up the pieces. And because you weren’t thrown into the cavern by the thugs, you don’t meet the Megamycete. (Note: this will provide insight into the Bats for future chapters. Read at your own risk.)

The Bats had been looking for the Joker, but instead found Killer Croc and gave chase, following him to Gotham Woods.

He forced his way into an old cabin and as they approached it, heard a gunshot, forcing them to surround it and enter from all directions.

They didn’t know what they expecting, but seeing you, lying on the floor with blood pooling around you and surrounded by three thugs and Killer Croc.

The sight of you, his baby boy, spread out on the dirty floor of this disgusting cabin, dying, fills him with a rage, one that burns brighter than his rage for Joe Chill.

In a flash, he takes all three thugs down, leaving Croc for the rest of his children while he carries you out of the cabin and rushes you to the Batcave, already telling Leslie Tompkins to be there with her med kit.

When the others return to the Cave, they see him looking over the doctor’ shoulder as works diligently to bring you back from the brink of death.

As she works, Bruce calls Alfred and inform of what happened, causing the butler to tear into him from the other side of the world.

When Alfred yells at him for not being a good father and ignoring you for years, guilt lands on all of them like a sumo wrestler.

When they look at one another, asking when was the last time any of them talked to you, they realize that they knew less than nothing about a brother that’s been living with them for years.

They sit around the cave in silence for hours, drowning in their collective guilt and promising that if you make it through this, things would be different

They’d give all the love and attention you could handle and more, including you in their post-patrol meals, taking you out on the town, and spoiling you rotten.

They’re only brought out of this state when the doctor exits the surgical suite and tells them that she managed to stabilize you and extract the bullet from your brain, which made the relax.

But when she said that you were brain damaged, stuck inside your mind, only able to speak phrases from your memories, they all felt the world around them collapse.

They made plans to make up for their years of neglect and beg for your forgiveness, and now, they can never atone for their sins.

Dr. Tompkins provides a few places they can admit you to, ensuring you’d be given the utmost care, but Bruce declines it immediately.

“He’s a part of our family and we’ll care for him,” he vows.

He has you moved to a bedroom on their side of the manor, an empty one next to his, to be precise, moving all your belongings and buying anything he thinks you’d like in hopes that some part of you would feel at home.

They all move back to the manor to care for you and abide by a schedule that took them hours to decide on.

Alfred is the first one to enter your room everyday, placing your breakfast in your feeding tube and helping you use the bathroom and change your clothes.

He insists on doing this, no matter how much the others beg to take his place, because he feels ashamed that he failed in his responsibility to you.

He knew that the family didn’t pay you the attention you deserved and thanks to his lapse in judgement, you’re reduced to a shell of your former self.

He’s resigned to doing this for the rest of his life, hoping to make amends.

Bruce always comes just after he finishes, sitting next to your bed, talking to you about anything he can think of, hoping that somehow, it would get you out of this state.

It doesn’t, of course, but he always listens when you mutter about whatever your mind allows you to say.

He notices that you tend to talk to him about your Momma more than the others and he feels like even more of a failure.

Truth be told, he didn’t remember your Momma, at least not until he looked her up.

She was an up and coming writer he had met at some fancy party, they both had a little too much to drink and that’s how you came to be.

When he looks back at how he treated you when you first came to live with him, he wants to go back in time and beat the living shit out of himself.

You lost your Momma, were forced to leave your home, and all you wanted was your father to make you feel like you weren’t alone.

He wasn’t man enough to do the bare minimum.

He lets his tears fall while he wipes yours as you say, “Momma’s in heaven?”

“Yeah she is, baby,” he whispers. “But don’t worry, Daddy’s here.”

Dick pulls out all he stops for his big brother act.

He comes in, taking over for Bruce or standing in when he has to leave.

“Hey, baby bird,” he exclaims every time he enters. “How’s my favorite little brother doing today?”

He always uses his time stretching your limbs to prevent atrophy and shows off his acrobatic skills, hoping it would impress you.

By the time he’s done, Alfred delivers your lunch, which he places in your feeding tube.

He wishes you were able to chew solid food because he totally would spoon feed you.

Jason comes in and out of all of them, he feels the most guilt about how he treated you.

He’s harped on Bruce for forgetting all about him for years, not knowing that he’s done the same to you.

And the memory of him giving you that black eye makes him want to tear himself apart as penance.

“You really drew the short straw when they were giving out families, huh, kid,” he jokes.

He spends most of his time reading his favorite books to you and telling you trivia about them and their authors.

He spends the remaining time crying, his head pressed against your body, begging for your forgiveness.

He totally kills those three thugs when Bruce isn’t look, hoping that act of revenge makes up for his behavior is some way.

Tim comes in after him, pretending not to notice the tear stains on Jason’s face or how red his eyes look.

He goes back to how you two first met, thinking about how he could’ve done things differently. How he should’ve said something.

He knows what it’s like to be ignored by your family, god knows he wasn’t his parents’ favorite child and they only had him.

He uses his time to play your video games, either on the giant tv in front of your bed or siting next to you on the bed, the brand new laptop he bought for you between the two of you.

He 100% your games, getting every achievement possible and even buys new games he thinks you’d enjoy.

He listens to everything you say, committing it to memory and answering back no matter what it is.

“Fear the Old Blood.”

“Bloodborne,” he answers. “That’s a tough one. But you seem like a guy that appreciates a challenge.”

When he discovers the beginnings of your game and the book you wrote all your ideas for it, he devotes all his free time to bringing it to reality, personally developing it and following your book to the letter and when it’s released, everyone knows it was made in your honor.

Steph comes in with Cass since neither of them have the courage to come in alone, ashamed of how they treated you.

Steph spends the entire time talking, filling the room with talk to drown out the awkward silence.

She goes on about anything and everything, from her visit to the coffee shop to her nightly escapades.

“I swear, Kite Man is obsessed with me! I think he wants to be my nemesis and I keep telling him it’s not gonna happen!”

Cass just sits there, not even able to look at you due to the weight of her guilt.

Bruce had taught her how to live in a family and she couldn’t show you the love she shows the others.

Damian is after them, followed closely by Titus and Alfred the Cat.

“Good evening, brother,” he says, hoping for a response, but knowing you’ll never be able to answer back again.

During his time with the League of Assassins, he was taught that one can never redeem themselves after failure and so it must be avoided at all costs.

He thought himself above the rest of his siblings, worth of being the heir to both the Demon and Bat. That he was the very definition of perfect

Seeing your frail body, lying there, doomed to live out the rest of your days stuck inside your own mind?

He knows he’s imperfect in every possible way.

When you first met, he was threatened by you as he was led to believe he was Father’s only blood son, the one who would inherit everything both Bruce Wayne and the Batman possessed.

He knew you weren’t a threat, his trained eye telling him you couldn’t defend yourself against Drake, let alone a real threat, but he just had to go and attack you what his sword to assert his dominance and place in the family’s hierarchy.

He could’ve just ignored you like the others, but no, he had to go and actively make your life more difficult, insulting you at every chance and sending his animals to attack you.

And when Pennyworth told him the pen he stole from you was your late Mother’s?

For the first time in years, he actually sheds a tear.

He spends his time either in your room, his loyal pets on either side of you while he draws you in his sketchbook or paints a complete portrait of you to be mounted in the living room.

Sometimes, he paints scenes of you two together, some of them have you standing next to each other while others have you playing some game.

He wishes you two could do this, but for now, these portraits will do.

Other times, he places you in a wheelchair and pushes you through the gardens (he fought tooth and nail for that privilege), telling you tidbits about the birds you see or the flowers you pass by.

Everyday, he wishes that you’d come out of this vegetative state so you two could walk together, but until that day comes, he’ll take up this responsibility without complaint.

By the time his time’s done, Alfred serves you your dinner and that’s when they leave to patrol Gotham, each of them hugging and kissing you.

And when they get back, Bruce carries you down to the dining room so you can be a part of their feast and watch movies with them.

They failed you before, but they won’t do it again. All of them will repeat this, day after day. Year after year.

They just wish you could talk back so they can make their apologies properly.

[mywhisperingwords]

frosted kisses | fred g. weasley

summary: a snowball fight ensues at midnight leading to a sweet moment between you and fred word count: 0.9k masterlist

The Burrow was a perfect picture of Christmas cheer. The scent of spiced cider and pine needles lingered in the air, and the warmth of the crackling fireplace was matched only by the easy, unrelenting chatter of the Weasley family.

You’d never spent Christmas like this before—surrounded by so much noise, so much love. Fred and George had practically kidnapped you from Hogwarts, insisting you couldn’t possibly stay behind and spend Christmas alone. “It’s an insult to the season,” Fred had declared, already stuffing your bag for you.

And now here you were, tucked into the coziest, most chaotic home you’d ever seen, watching Ginny and Ron squabble over a game of wizard’s chess while Mrs. Weasley hummed a Christmas carol in the kitchen. It should’ve felt perfect.

Still, as the evening settled and the others began retreating to their rooms, a strange heaviness crept in. The thought of going back to an empty Hogwarts after this—after the warmth and chaos of the Weasleys—made your chest tighten. So you slipped outside, seeking solace in the quiet snow-covered fields that surrounded the house.

The air was crisp and cold, but the stars above were impossibly bright, and the soft crunch of snow beneath your boots felt soothing. You tilted your head back to watch the sky, letting the cold nip at your cheeks.

“Figured I’d find you out here,” came a familiar voice, breaking the stillness.

You turned to see Fred Weasley striding toward you, his hands shoved into his pockets and his scarf askew. His hair caught the faint moonlight, and his cheeks were already pink from the cold.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked lightly.

“Not when someone’s off having a dramatic midnight moment without me,” he teased, stopping a few feet away. His grin softened as he studied you. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated, unsure how to put it into words. Finally, you shrugged. “It’s nothing. Just… this is really nice. And I guess I don’t want it to end.”

Fred tilted his head, considering you for a moment. Then his grin returned, brighter than ever. “Right. We’re not doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“This whole mopey, contemplative thing. Not on my watch,” he said firmly, bending to scoop up a handful of snow.

“Fred, don’t you da—”

The snowball hit you square in the shoulder, cutting off your protest. You gaped at him as he straightened, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Snowball fight,” he declared, already crouching to make another.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, but you couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips as you grabbed your own handful of snow.

The next few minutes were utter chaos. Fred darted around like a mischievous child, dodging your throws while pelting you with surprising accuracy. You landed a few good hits, including one to his back that made him yelp in mock outrage.

“You’re in trouble now!” he called, sprinting toward you with a snowball in each hand.

You shrieked, ducking and trying to run, but the snow beneath your feet betrayed you. You slipped, landing on your back in a puff of white powder.

“Careful there—” Fred started, but in his haste to stop himself, he lost his footing as well.

The next thing you knew, he was sprawled on top of you, his weight pressing you into the snow. His hands braced on either side of your head, and his scarf dangled dangerously close to your face.

“Hi,” he said, his voice low and sheepish.

You both froze, laughter fading as you realized just how close you were. His breath puffed against your chilled skin, and the warmth in his eyes sent a flutter through your chest.

His gaze flickered down to your lips, and for a moment, you thought—

Before he could lean in, you grabbed a fistful of snow from beside you and plopped it squarely onto his head.

“Gotcha,” you said, grinning as his face turned from surprised to utterly betrayed.

Fred sputtered, shaking the snow from his hair as you dissolved into laughter beneath him. “You’re absolutely unbelievable,” he muttered, but there was no hiding the grin tugging at his lips.

“You deserved it,” you teased, still giggling.

Fred shook his head, his grin softening as he leaned down just slightly, close enough that your laughter caught in your throat. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Your heart stuttered, but before you could say anything, Fred kissed you. It was warm and fleeting, like the softest touch of summer breaking through winter, and it left you breathless.

When he pulled back, you were still smiling, though your cheeks were now burning for an entirely different reason.

“Alright,” Fred said, sitting back on his knees and holding up his hands in mock surrender. “You win. You’re the champion of midnight snowball fights. Happy?”

“Very,” you replied smugly, though the warmth in your chest betrayed the casual tone.

Fred laughed, shaking his head again before leaning down to steal another kiss. This time, there was no snowball interruption—just the soft crunch of snow beneath you and the endless, starry sky above.