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disturbed-and-depressed · 2 years

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5 Years

CC!Ranboo x GN!Reader

Song: 5 Years by Bo Burnham

Warnings: None

Y/n fiddled with the phone in their hands, still contemplating as to whether or not to actually make the call to their longtime boyfriend, known as Ranboo. Today was their anniversary. Five years to be exact. The two of them were only 18, but they’ve known each other their whole lives, and they’ve been in love with each other for 6 years, that one year was spent silently pining over each other until the h/c teen mustered up the courage to actually confess.

“Oh my gosh, just call him and tell him you wrote him a song!” Tommy exclaimed, laying on his stomach across from his nervous friend. “It’s that simple.”

Y/n shook their head. “Shut up Tom, it’s not that simple. What do you know? You’ve never been in a steady relationship because you can’t get a girl to fall in love with you.”

“Woah! What the hell?” Tommy frowned and sat up. “What did I do?”

Y/n groaned and rubbed their hands over their face. “I’m sorry Tommy. I wasn’t trying to be rude. I just…What if he doesn’t like it? What do I do then?”

Tommy didn’t answer right away, trying to find the right words to say so he wouldn’t say the wrong thing and risk getting another blow to his ego. Thinking back on it, he really didn’t know how much the two meant to each other. Him and Tubbo had asked how the two of them had gotten together one night when they were all at Tubbo’s house in England, back when they were still 17 and stupid, but the couple was pretty much vague when it came to their answers.

But the one thing he did know was that Ranboo loved Y/n, and Y/n loved Ranboo. That was enough for anybody wasn’t it?

“Well I know that Ranboo loves you.” Tommy talked slowly, trying to make his words sound a little more meaningful. He wasn’t good at things like this. Y/n would have gotten better advice if they went to Aimsey or Niki instead. Hell, even Billzo or Freddy would be better than him. “If it comes from you, Ranboo will love it. I know that much.”

Y/n peeked through their fingers. “You really think so? Seriously?”

Tommy nodded and held out the phone. Biting their lip, Y/n grasped the object between their fingers.

“Okay. I can do this.” The nervous teen went into their contacts and tapped on their significant other’s profile, pressing the call button and brought the device up to their ear. “It’s ringing.”

They waited and slightly winced at the beeping. “Oh…It went to voicemail.” Y/n informed the blond.

“Just say what you were going to say.”

The e/c person nodded. “Hey Boo, uh, it's me, Um, our anniversary is coming up, it's a pretty big one, and, um, I wrote a song for you. So I'm just leaving you this voicemail because, um, I want the song to begin with this voicemail…”

“...Um, so just, figure it out and text me the voicemail, um, immediately, if you wouldn't mind…Like, right when you get this. Thank you, um, I love you, bye.”

Ranboo smiled as he listened to his lover’s voice fill his ears. He was upset because he hadn’t been able to spend a lot of time with Y/n. Ranboo had become increasingly busy with his streams while Y/n had spent more time on their album, just recently releasing outtakes and such.

Ranboo had not forgotten their anniversary but was slightly worried about it slipping Y/n’s mind, not that he would have minded too much, but he would be lying he said the thought wasn’t upsetting. So he knew he was lucky that she remembered.

That was the way their relationship worked. Ranboo was the hopeless romantic while Y/n was the realistic person. Ranboo was a live in the moment and Y/n was a plan ahead type. They balanced each other out and that’s why the couple was able to stay together so long. So with the way Y/n wasn’t big on affection all that much, it wasn’t a surprise she made a song, nevertheless, the thought could not be appreciated enough.

Y/n and Ranboo had been best friends since 5th grade, and the only reason it began was because Y/n had accidentally tripped Ranboo and he had been so forgiving, which was something that still confused the h/c teen to this current day and age.

Secrets have been shared between the two on late nights when it was school the next day. Secrets that they had originally vowed to take to the grave but allowed themselves to slip when speaking to the person who meant everything to the other.

They both had their problems, and they helped each other with their problems, whether it be mentally or physically. Ranboo had always had trouble with the way he looked, never liking his appearance. It had been something that he had confessed to Y/n around 2 years into their friendship. Y/n didn’t like the way other people perceived them, more often than not believing that they were a very tiresome person, and that people are usually annoyed with them.

The two of them were messes. Huge unlabeled weird messes. And even though together they were a bigger mess, it was a mess that just seemed to go unnoticed by most because it was so natural.

It’s been 5 years and things have not changed by much. The pair were still with each other, and things would not be changing anytime soon. Not a big change anyways.

It was around 10 pm at night, and Ranboo and Y/n had just finished a 5 hour long stream and they were starving from having not eaten anything all day, so they agreed on ordering some Chinese food. While Ranboo ordered for them, Y/n searched on tv for a show or movie that would occupy a good amount of time before their dinner arrived and chose to settle on some sitcom that was on its reruns.

The young couple sat on the couch, with Ranboo sitting near the armrest and Y/n right by him, letting their shoulders touch, eating their meal. Y/n was watching the people on the screen move and listening to them talk and the laugh track that would occasionally ring out.

Suddenly, Y/n’s attention was pulled away as Ranboo wordlessly reached over to her plate and grabbed a dumpling before popping it into his mouth. The e/c teen stopped her movements and stared at their boyfriend. Y/n scoffed and shook their head. Like, Ranboo didn’t even ask if he could. Yeah, they’re dating each other, but it should be a known fact that you do NOT take your significant other’s food unless you know they’ll be okay with it.

Ranboo stopped chewing as he caught Y/n’s gaze and stared at her questioningly. “Why are you looking at me like that? What the fuck did I do?”

The teen rolled their eyes. “You know, if you really wanted some dim sum then you should have gotten some when we place in the order dude.”

“You’re a psycho.” Ranboo jokingly told Y/n. “I don’t wanna fight, okay? So let’s just drop this, it’s not a big deal.” He turned back to the screen.

Y/n sighed, “Fine, but for the record you owe me a dumpling, I mean it, I won't forget. You owe me a dumpling or a dumpling equivalent.”

Ranboo bit his lip to stop himself from bursting out into laughter at his partner's words. It was really moments like this that made him love his best friend even more.

Ranboo walked across the slightly cluttered floor that had a few papers, pencils, and a couple sweaters scattered around. It is a calm day.

Or it was.

Y/n’s head snapped up when they heard Ranboo let out a loud screech, watching him clumsily jump on the couch, looking batshit terrified. “Hey what’s wrong!?”

Instead of answering, Ranboo shakily pointed at the ground. Confused, Y/n’s eyes followed his finger and saw the culprit. It was a fucking spider, and it was the size of a nickel.

Y/n let out a panicked gasp and clambered off the chair they were sitting on to stand on the coffee table. They swallowed the lump in their throat and looked at their boyfriend. “You should kill that.”

Ranboo looked Y/n in the eyes as he shook his head. “Um, no, fuck that.”

“Come on, be a man.”

“What?” Ranboo squinted his eyes. “You're a total anti-sexist, a patriarchy fighter. But your whole worldview collapses.The moment there's a spider.” He glanced back down at the eight legged creature. “I get it, this is the real you. It's a pleasure, nice to meet you.” Ranboo held his hand out for a handshake despite the fact that him and Y/n were like 4 feet apart. “Shit like this brings the movement down.”

Y/n scoffed. “Well, haven’t you heard the saying?”

Ranboo picked his head up again, “What saying?”

“Everyone's a feminist until there is a spider around.”

Y/n stood up from their spot on the couch and started walking towards the hall.

“Where are you going?” Ranboo asked from behind them.

“Just to the bathroom.” Faintly, Y/n could hear shuffling from the couch, but brushed it off, assuming Ranboo had gotten up for more popcorn or another drink or something. They were not expecting to be picked up by the waist and moved to the opposite side of where they were originally heading. “What the hell?”

Y/n turned back around in time to see Ranboo dart to the bathroom as well. “Hey! No! Don’t you dare!”

Getting a loud laugh in return, Y/n was unfortunately slower than the giant ass teen and ran into the door as Ranboo abruptly shut it. “Too slow!”

Y/n groaned and hit their head on the wooden door. “Bruh, why didn’t you just use the guest bathroom? This is why we have two bathrooms in the first place!” Y/n whirled around and stalked off, only pausing once to shout one more time. “And I know that you know!”

“It’s fun messing with you!”

“Fuck off!”

Y/n groaned and rubbed their eyes, trying to get all the eye crust off, still groggy from the long nap. They sat up, looking around the room, remembering that they had spent the night at Tommy’s since it was too late for Y/n to leave for the house that they and Ranboo shared.

Y/n sat up and picked up the note that was on the dresser. They recognized the sloppy handwriting as Tommy’s explaining that he had gone to the store and would be back soon, also explaining that there was food in the fridge if they were hungry.

They pushed the covers away and stood up, leaving the guest room and walking down the hall, coming out into the front room, seeing it empty. They moved over to the couch and sat down, leaning back against the cushions and pulling out their phone.

The silence that had taken over was interrupted by a knock on the door. Y/n groaned, standing up and walked over to the door, unlocking it and opening it, realizing at the last second that they should have at least looked out the peephole first. They got lucky though, seeing as it just turned out to be Ranboo.

Ranboo stood in front of his partner and smiled nervously. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Y/n breathed out, surprised he had shown up. “Sorry, come in.” They moved out of the way.

Ranboo strolled inside, glancing around the apartment. “Is Tommy here?”

“Umm, no, he’s out shopping. Who knows what he’ll come back with.” They chuckled. “What are you doing here?”

“It feels like we had a fight, even though we didn’t.” Ranboo mumbled. He held out his arms and pulled Y/n into his chest, breathing in their signature scent. “I know we haven’t had a lot of time for each other because we’ve both been busy with our own things, which also means we didn’t get to have our anniversary yesterday.” The words were muffled, but it was still easy enough for Y/n to understand.

“It’s no one’s fault.” Y/n whispered. “We can just hang out today, and go do something if you want.”

Ranboo shook his head. “No. No, I just want to be around you. I don’t want to do anything today, please.”

Y/n tightened their grip on their boyfriend. “Then we don’t have to. I promise.”

“I really loved the song.” Ranboo muttered gently.

Everything was silent between the two lovers. It was perfect even.

“Happy five years.”

#ranboo x y/n #ranboo fluff #ranboo x reader #ranboo imagine #ranboo #ranboo x you #c: ranboo #cc!ranboo #dream smp #dream smp x reader #dream smp x y/n #dream smp x you #bo burham inside #bo burnham

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becomethebooks · 6 months

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I'm obsessed w this video essay

youtube

A necessary commentary on the digital age & the state of the technosocial disease of human soul

#you dont even need to have seen Bo Burnham's Inside to watch this #bo burnham #inside #cj the x #video #favorite #Youtube

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ghostwriterdiariesxoxo · 1 year

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Down For You (Returned to Ao3)

As well as/ Before the Act - Make it Quick & Green Room

#boburnham #boburnhamfanfic #bo burnham fanfic #boburnhamfic #before the act #ao3 #beforetheact #downforyou #down for you #bo burnham x reader

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radioapplefanfics · 12 days

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alastor is hot

pls reach out to me my name is Rayne and I'm obsessed with alastor x lucifer fanfics and bo burnham so basically hot guys... help im slowly turning straight but for now I'm bisexual I know im a W

#alastor fanfiction #alastor x you #alastor x reader #alastor smut #alastor roleplay #bo burnham

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njpuckbunny · 1 year

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hey guys! my links weren’t working for my master list :(( so i’m sorry abt that!! also , my requests are still open for everyone on my master list + more plz send requests!!!

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mynameiskanade · 9 months

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art is dead.

#tags: nyxs art #this was supposed to be vent art but i kind of want you guys to interpret this #also yes ‘art is dead’ is a song ref by bo burnham #average by sushi soucy (i think thats their name) fits this too #oc #art #drawing #doodle #sketch #digital illustration #digital art #digital drawing #ibispaint x

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thenarryparable · 1 year

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<3 🍋

im...OKAY I HAVE A CRUSH ON HIM I ADMIT IT. HE'S SO CUTE THOUGH.

Also this!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

#AAAAAAAAA x'3 #bo burnham #yeah I got these from Pinterest...i have a favorite one and you gotta CLICK ON THE POST FOR IT.

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pseudonympls · 2 years

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From Lust

Part Four of Love Blooms

Chapter CW: angst. hurt/comfort. oral sex. explicit sex. smoker! bo.

Chapter word count: 9.8k

Somewhere in the depths of the night, I awoke from my dead slumber to a mewling, a groaning and a muttering, the warmth of the body beside mine twitching.

“N-no” Bo slurred in his sleep, his arm tensing and relaxing around my body, shuddering around me.

My eyes peeled open at the sounds, at his movement, searching for a reason for his discontent.

“Bo?” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes, I tried to meet his, and was only met with the skin of his eyelids - his body tensed in some horrible nightmare - face twitching in fear.

“G-Greg” he continued, a sweat formed on his upper lip - even in the freezing cold of that shelter, the bitter winter’s night that nipped at our skin, he was soon slick with sweat.

“Bo, it’s-it’s alright,” I whispered, bracing his shoulders against mine, hoping that my touch could do something to soothe whatever it was that was occurring in his dreams.

“P-please, we can’t let him- c-can’t let him go there” Bo thrashed around, an inch away from falling off the cot, I held him close, my eyes shutting, brows furrowing as I willed his pain away.

“Can’t let who, go where?” even in my half asleep state I had tried to converse with him, knowing that any words I said fell on deaf ears, but still I stayed my arms, tried to wrap around him like the most comforting of blankets, tried so desperately to sup some of the fear away from him, what little I could do in the moment.

He groaned once more, and in my desperate attempt to still him I nestled deeper into his body, my head taking a comfortable place in the crook of his neck. We fit together seemingly like puzzle pieces, even in this the darkest of hours.

“Shhh” I breathed into his neck, beginning to rock him back and forth like a babe in arms, and slowly, steadily, his hands came to my back, his breathing steadied, evened out in a way that I knew he had slipped back into a much more peaceful slumber, whatever had been haunting him halted for the moment, let us return to a sleep altogether more restful, it had released him, for the time being.

The oil lamp, all but burnt out of its light, strips of sun bleeding through the shelter door, I heard it, brilliantly, ringing through the day.

The all clear sounded as bright as church bells the next morning. Barely moving, I opened my eyes, the faint scrawlings of the black book came into focus, lay across his chest, open at a page, filled with Bo’s curly handwriting.

Without my glasses it was a little difficult to make out, but his writing was so carefully delicate and legible, I couldn’t stop my eyes from dancing across the page, my breath stuttering in my throat as I read:

Fresh heated in summer sheen does she,

Move with such grace,

Thine body moves just as easily

The red bud of her lips, fine tuned to bestow such lore,

Make me feel a man, a longing for them,

Still I find myself wanting, and poor

As to not have those buds on mine,

A wish so delicate,

Feel the electricity, palpable, like wine

Dripping through my skin so sweetly

A want so thorough,

Intoxicating enough, do I trudge wearily

Through the vast corridors of moments past

But a mere shadow to once lovers last

Still yet I long to become her new fresh dawn

Peeking o’er the hill, the lighthouse, the lawn

I fear that once our meet is at its end

I will not taste those lips on mine again

Letting her go as she rages on into the night

Seeing her walk away, my girl, my light

He stirred, and I stayed as still as I could, desperately trying to quiet the tumultuous beating of my heart at what I had just read.

His left arm still wrapped tightly around me, I closed my eyes and attempted to savour the sweet feeling of his body against mine, half in dream world - the only place I would allow myself such fanciful thoughts, the only place where I saw him, drank in his form so lustfully - let my mind wander to the true depths of my depravity. As I fantasised, I bit my lip, feeling a delicious ache begin between my thighs, felt it bloom upward toward my chest, filling my heart. I imagined Bo’s lips touching mine, scenting his bare chest, no longer the annoyance of clothing in the way of our bodies, no more barriers.

He groaned, and turned, in sleep forgetting how tiny the cot in the shelter was, and almost fell clear over the side, were it not for my fist that found his shirt, wrenching him back from the edge.

His sleepy, shocked face almost pressed into mine weren’t it for Charlie’s scared mewls from the foot of the cot, our mishap rudely waking the boy from his slumber.

“Fuck, s-sorry” Bo fumbled to back away from me, clasping the little black book to his chest, like it held some dark dirty secret, his lips pursed in a modicum of shame.

“It’s alright, this bed is awfully small, I’m surprised we fit into it at all” I panted, forgetting how heavy Bo was, as he righted himself, swinging his legs over the side of the cot.

“I-um, I slept like a baby, actually” he lied, although part of it felt like the truth, before he had awoken in the midst of a nightmare, I confess that I hadn’t slept that well in years.

“Mmhm” I groaned, reaching my hands up to the cool roof of the shelter, my muscles aching as they stretched, a sweet pleasure with the pain.

“I think you had an awful nightmare, though” I pressed, my head cocking to the side, his expression morphing from one of sleepy content to dark concern, flashing across his eyes like a lightening strike.

A pregnant pause filled the shelter, Bo sighed, closing his little black book and resting it on his lap, before speaking “Y-yeah, a lot of shit happened while we were in training, back in the states I mean…” he trailed off and didn’t recover, his knee bobbing up and down in quiet anxiety, he glanced at me

“Emily…” he started, but I couldn’t bear to let him finish - not when he had already bared a sliver of his soul to me last night, not when I couldn’t stand to see the melancholy fog his sight.

“I am due at the hospital in twenty minutes” I thought out loud, having glanced at my watch and noticing the late hour.

Something so subtle switched in the air, like the oxygen had all but run out, we were both left breathless, not wanting to part but also the notion of being this close to one another for even a minute more, felt unbearable. Yet how I wished to stay - for him to prevent me from even leaving the shelter, let us both bask in the airlessness of our own making.

“Y-yes, I really must be getting back to camp, they’ll-they’ll be looking for me” Bo mumbled, his knee bobbing up and down at an even faster rate than before.

My stomach sank even lower into the ground, did I dare address the lingering unease between us, our midnight fumblings amidst the drones of enemy planes, the way our lips touched - and how I wished they would never stop.

“Of course” I mumbled, my face painting a picture exceedingly clear.

“But Em, I won’t forget last night, what happened, what you said -” perched on the end of the cot, his fingers found the ends of his hair - tugging and pulling, a mirror into his mind, “If you’re not ready for anything, I will gladly wait however long it is until you are -” he licked his lips and paused, his eyes reaching from the floor to my own, finally saying, “Even if it is forever, it sounds fucking stupid to say,” he scoffed “but I will wait, even for the fragile possibility, of a something with you”

His voice, still scraggly and rough from sleep, slipped through the cracks I had opened last night, rays of light seeping through the slivers in my armour, penetrating the darkness.

Was I brave enough to let any more light in, shun the darkness away for good?

* * *

It all started in 1915. I myself was a product of the first world war, spoils of a love that lasted across time and many, many countries. My mother and father reunited in the winter of 1918, the harsh cold and the victory of the British was a breeding ground for young lovers to play out their romances.

Post-war Britain was tough for a young girl with ambitions as big as I. From a young age my mother, a teacher, taught me how to read and write, and I forever had my head stuck in books. Forever the butt of my peers’ jokes, I cared little about looking pretty, or securing myself a wealthy husband, and more about filling my head with as much knowledge as I possibly could.

The trend continued as I passed through the schooling system. Many of my girlfriends spent their time after hours, preening at the gates of the boy’s school, where I spent my time in the local library, devouring book after book, essay after essay. We finished school at age fourteen, and while many of my friends had already found suitors, I decided to pursue a career in nursing. Looking after people was something that I excelled at, growing up with a war crippled father, and a mother who was rapidly going senile, it was something I always knew. Helping people is in my nature.

Starting my nursing degree I was bullied to no end. A lot of the girls and women I was housed with were a lot older than me, and I was told their malice came from a place of jealousy. The friends I did have told me that the bitter old crones were jealous of my dark curly hair, my looks, or my impeccable bedside manner. Some of these women would sooner maim their patient than heal them, I came to realise.

It was around aged sixteen that I began to attract the attention of the opposite sex. Men and boys, all around me, usually doctors in senior positions, would proffer themselves to me. Embarrassingly I even received a few marriage proposals, of which I gracefully declined every time. I was told I was crazy by my friends, “But he’s a doctor” my friend Belle said.

“His status doesn’t matter to me, what matters is that I’m not interested in love, all I need are my patients and my parents” I would reply, earning a scoff from most everyone around me.

A few years later everything changed, when a new family moved into our small town. It was a rare occurrence you see. Everybody in our little town knew everyone. You got your milk from Timothy’s cows down the road, Peter by the stream kept chickens, and Doris the headteacher's wife was the town gossip. Everybody knew everyone, until the Davies family moved into town.

Eric Davies was the patriarch, an older man with a kind face, and moustache, around the age of my own father. Violet Davies, his wife, was a stern looking lady with a soft spot for John Steinbeck novels, and finally their only son, Tommy. Well, Tommy was special.

The Davies family moved into town and quickly set up their own garden and farm shop, utilising the fertile soil in our ground to grow the most incredible, exotic plants you’d ever seen. Great big towering greenery seemed to shoot up in no time, gorgeous colours and delectable aromas. They sold cuttings of the plants often, they definitely were the talk of the town.

In my circles, the talk was less of the Davies’ impressive, towering flora, and more so their towering son. My mind was certainly not focusing on boys at the time, but Tommy got my head turning as much as he did the next girl. He stood well above the majority of the young men around town, his dark brown, curly hair and chocolate eyes making the girls of the town’s knees grow weak in his wake.

A familiar passtime of many of my friends was to go to the Davies’ shop, buy a penny’s worth of flowers and spend most of the time ogling at Tommy, who often wore a white singlet, his shoulders glistening in the heat of the afternoon, digging up parts of the garden to allow for new plants or crops.

I couldn’t deny how even I had found my eyes pinned to his body, watching the sweat drip down his back, awoke something new in me, something both delightful and sinful, in that look.

* * *

“I don’t know Bess, he’s so perfect - too perfect, really. He doesn’t want something damaged…like me” I gazed out at the perfect winter’s day - the last dead leaf having fallen from the trees, the blue sky offering no shield against the frozen temperatures.

“But Em, he does want you, he couldn’t peel his eyes off you,” she shook her head “He always asked me where you were when I had to change his bandages, you have no idea how lucky you are to have a man who looks at you like that!” Bessie picked at her nails, glancing up ever so often - the quieter hours at the hospital were often where we deconstructed eachothers lives, played therapist to each other's woes. Sat in the spare wheelchairs littering the hallways, sneaking a smoke when there was no-one else around.

“But…” I shuddered a sigh “I did have someone who looked at me like that…” gazing up at her green eyes, saw them soften with sympathy, and I wished I’d never mentioned it, the solitary focus of this conversation had flipped from friends discussing problems to me being pitied - once again.

“Oh, I know, lovely, but…and I am saying this as your dearest friend, you cannot continue to live in the past, it will only harm your future” my eyes had focused in on my fingers, fiddling with the hem of my uniform, picking at an errant thread, and I reminded myself to fix it, later - my mind all but checked out of the conversation, one I had had a thousand times.

“You need to move on”

“Please, Emily, come to dinner, I’ve found your perfect match, he can’t wait to meet you”

I knew that if I continued to hold a candle for Tommy that it would be my downfall - be the reason I would die alone, but no-one knew the sorrow, the soul destroying wreck I was after hearing that he wouldn’t be coming back, that my one true love in all the world, my Tommy, was gone.

“I know that, Bess, just - whenever I look at Bo, with the surging feeling of desire…I also feel shame, and regret, and guilt. That can’t be right” I sighed, ripping the thread clean from the dress, bunching up the fabric in a way I hadn’t anticipated.

“Damn” I whispered, smoothing the fabric apart and tearing my eyes away from it.

“Emily, it seems like you have a lot of thinking to do, so do it, whatever it takes for you to take that plunge, do it.” she stood up, moving past me in the hallway, her hand on my shoulder, a small comfort “You need to learn to love again, pick up the pieces and start over, no-one said it would be easy, but you deserve it, over anyone else, you deserve this”

I nodded at her sage advice and gazed out of the window, watching the empty branches waver in the wind, missing their leaves, their companions, eager for the spring to return, so that their green friends could resume their loving embrace upon the barren, cold boughs.

Even in the icy grip of winter I walked to the beach - enjoying the solitude that it brought me. The peace of mind it afforded me when my head felt so incredibly full. Full of him, memories of Tommy, but now, new potential broadening on the horizon: Bo.

I had come to the beach to clear my head - the brisk winter wind howling, and how I wished they had cleared my cobwebs, offered me some peace. But all I could think about was them.

I sat by the front, the sand before me and the moors behind, and even as the wind whipped around me I was given the space to think, think on the past, the present and even the promises of the future, what lay ahead for us, for me.

I was transported to years past. That fateful day among the dunes - although the summer breeze was very different to the numbing wind that was now blowing, it was the exact place all the same. That day that Tommy had brought me to the sea - knowing how much it meant to me, how dear I held the water to my heart, how it was such a part of my soul.

After picnicking on the dunes that fateful summer evening, he had dropped to one knee and proposed to me, promising to love me, promising to keep me. I was so overcome with absolute joy, that day seared into my heart, locked away for safekeeping - although now more often than not, it provided pain rather than pleasure - looking back on it.

And then, more recently when I had brought Bo to the beach - almost fully rehabilitated by this time, his ankle gained back most of the mobility that he had lost. I had buried myself under his armpit in an attempt to keep him upright, my belief in his ability to traverse the sloping sand dunes was potentially hubris at best, ignorance at worst. But with half of his weight on my shoulder he had made it across a few feet of sand, before we collapsed into a heaving pile.

How I felt like I was betraying Tommy in that moment - our eyes meeting, the way Bo’s eyes dipped to my lips and back up to my eyes, like it was nothing.

I had written such an event off, brushed off the claustrophobic feeling I got whenever I wasn’t near him.

“Emily? Should’a known I would have found you here” a booming voice echoed from behind me, caught in the flow of the wind, just about reaching my ears.

“Oh, hello, Bo” I said as he neared, the wind whipping the blond waves across his head like twigs in a river, floating upstream.

“What do you mean, did you follow me here?” I jibed, my hair covering the smirk pulling across my lips.

“No, not exactly” he replied, he folded down into a seat next to me, his legs comically long, knees peeled up toward his elbows.

“Ever since that day you brought me, to help me walk on my busted ankle, I felt that this place had a special import to you” he said, glancing seaward.

“Oh, to me?” I said, tilting my head and hoping that the wind wouldn’t betray its promise of hiding my blush.

“Yes, the way you speak about the ocean, the water, the way you look at it, you-you feel a connection to it, don’t you?” he asked, and my heart soared as he picked me apart, piece by piece, seeing right through me, every facade I had ever known - rendered utterly transparent by him.

“H-how do you know?” I stuttered out, feeling nary stripped bare in front of him.

“Because I feel that same draw, that same connection to it. Back home, we-I live really close to the water as well, it feels-” he paused, and I picked up where he left off, almost like we were one tongue, one mind.

“Natural, doesn’t it?” I finished his sentence, and he looked at me with such verenation, such pleasant approval, the blues of his eyes wavering ever so slightly as he took me in.

“Yeah, yes it does”

“It’s the giver of life, isn’t it - the water” I commented, pulling my eyes away from his astonished face to stare at the grey waves roaring a mile ahead.

“It brings us everything, the fish, passage to other countries, continents and worlds, when desalinated we may drink, bathe in it, prepare our food in it, it feels magical to be beset by it, to be at its mercy” I whispered, almost to the sea itself rather than to Bo.

“You’re so right, Emily” he replied back “I’d love to show you Gloucester sometime, it’s less like this, less rural and more like a port town, but - but I think you’d love it just the same” he smiled, and I saw him in my periphery searching for my gaze, but I wasn’t ready to give it to him yet, my eyes still mesmerised by the swelling of the tide.

Still avoiding his eyes, I huffed “Why would I go to America,” planting my knuckles underneath my chin, shaking my head.

I heard him laugh lightly, as he started to look at the tops of his knees, no longer chasing my gaze.

“Emily, may I ask something of you?” Bo said, the husk in his voice undeniable, a slight waver to his nerve.

In response I looked over at him, seated awkwardly next to me, and smiled, but it didn’t seem to soothe his nerves.

Pulling in a sharp breath, he spoke “I would like to ask you to accompany me to the Christmas dance at the town hall?” His eyes read my expression like a broadsheet, wrinkles forming on his brow at my lack of response “Please don’t feel obligated to do so, I would much rather you come with me because you wanted, rather than out of obligation.” he said, words running into one another like a train wreck. Piling up on the side of the tracks.

“I-” I was at a loss for words. “You could take any young woman in the town-” I trailed off, glancing back at him, my cheeks surely ablaze by now.

“Is that a no?” he questioned, “Because I don’t want to take just any young woman, I would like to take you”

“But why?” I questioned, taking him perhaps one step too far.

His patience waning, his knuckles grasped on to his knees hard, “Must I dignify that ridiculous question with an answer, Em? I like you, and I would like to take you to the dance. If you don’t want to go with me, I will make my peace with that, but please do not think I am asking you out of pity or out of lack of choice, because that is simply not the case” Bo rambled, a pink not merely from the wind staining his cheeks.

“I, yes - I would like to accept your invitation” - I relented, seeing how much scrutiny I had put his motive under, made me reexamine my own, why was I hell bent on questioning every single move that he made, that I made? Why couldn’t I just give into the feeling, be enjoyed - be loved?

A devastating grin spread across his lips, and he leaned into me as we both stared out at the ocean, and I leaned back in equal measure.

* * *

I had donned one of my mothers most beautiful dresses - green organza graced my arms, the sweetheart neckline a little old fashioned, the way the material puffed out at my bicep a tad dated, but I admired my reflection in the mirror all the same, saw a new woman gazing back at me through the glass, a glimmer of hope and the promise of something new in her eyes, something I didn’t quite recognise.

I swallowed, smoothing the fabric down over my hips, a question perched on my lips: was this the right time for love, was any of it right, my own worry worming its way into my narrative as I turned in front of the mirror, both adoring and despising who was looking back at me.

A knock sounded at the door, and I spooked Charlie with how fast I had run to it, instead of dreading to answer it like so many times before - I had raced to.

I pulled the door from its jamb and saw Bo, resplendent in ceremony finery, head to toe in deep, hunter green, the swirl of the evening's first few snowflakes encircling him in his own personal flurry.

The curl of his tie tucked into his shirt, the way his adams apple peeked out from his shirt collar, had a buzz alight in the back of my head. His smile so wide, melted into something resembling awe, as he drank me in.

“You look-” Bo’s face said what he could not, his eyes trailing along my body slowly, yet eager to not linger over certain spots too much, I could see the restraint he reigned in, playing across his face.

“I can’t believe we’re almost matching” I said, slamming the door shut behind us, glancing up and down his outfit, and spying the blush spreading across his cheeks.

The harsh wind chill of that winter evening attempted to push us back as we walked to the town centre. Shoes trudging through the frozen ground, I could feel how close Bo was walking to me - the heat he emanated, how I felt more than just a pull toward him, more than just the soothing warmth - I edged closer to him with every step - the way our arms would brush up against one anothers, stoked fresh flames within me.

Upon reaching the town hall, the flurries of snow brought the chatter and music to our ears from inside, travelling on the wind to us.

“Em-Emily, before we go in, could we talk?” Bo’s fingers lightly nipped at my elbow, pulling me to the side, leaving the entryway free.

My stomach roiled with nerves, seeing the seriousness painted on his face, the questioning look in his eyes, I swallowed thickly, meeting his gaze with that same intensity.

“Please, listen to me,” Bo cleared his throat, threw his cigarette to the ground and leaned his palm into the rough brick beside my head, without even touching me his stare pinned me there.

“I really like you, Emily, you’re unbelievably sweet, smart, and fucking…” his gaze faltered to my lips “beautiful. But-but I see that hurt behind your eyes, I feel it, in the heat of your skin, I feel it hard.” he let slip a sigh “I know I won’t ever come close to surpassing Tommy, and, fuck - I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want that, to be your one, your whole world.” I was utterly frozen, struck dumb and immobile by him, the soft clouds of steam coming out of his mouth, and the words they carried with them “But, I just need to know that these feelings I’ve been having haven’t been one sided. I’ve seen it in your blush, the way you aren’t afraid of telling me off when I need it, I need to know so desperately if you feel the same, because if you don’t, I promise” his hand curled into a fist against the brick beside my head “I swear to god I’ll leave - leave you alone, go back to the states and think of you every fucking day, but if you do-”

I’d heard enough, and touched his bicep with my hand, even that subtle graze was enough to stop him in his tracks.

Tracing up to his coat lapels my fingers found their grip, and I pulled him into me. Pink and blushing our lips finally joined, and I let out a whimper both in joy and relief as they did. He tasted like the smoke of his last cigarette, his fingers gripping my forearm tight, and my own savoured the smooth freshly shaven skin of his jaw underneath mine.

“Emily” he whispered against my lips, peeling yet more desperate moans from me as I leaned into the kiss. That feeling so all encompassing and stunning, the old bleeding into the new. A faint memory of my last kiss with Tommy, being blown out of the water by the electricity of this new kiss, these new lips pressed against mine in such wanting, such desperate need to be felt.

“Maybe, perhaps I am ready” I whispered against his sweet lips, the white mist pulsating from both our mouths in the frozen, winter cold.

Lips parted in my first real smile in years, hands sweatily clasping at another's we walked into the tinsel festooned town hall. The heat from his body comforting me at a cellular level, my frame melting into his seamlessly as we turned heads.

We mingled into the crowd, Bessie’s face beaming at me from the opposite side of the hall, her fingers pressed into her mouth in astonishment and joy, her eyes wide, a common theme among the onlookers.

A few of Bo’s fellows cast winks and nudges our way as we parted the crowd.

How many pairs of eyes were on us, seven, eight, nine? Far too many to count. My stomach stirred and pulled at my insides, the attention made my head swim with thoughts - too many to organise.

“It’s alright” he whispered in my ear, sensing my unease, and pulled me closer to him, his palm pressed to mine as his words made the hair around my ear shudder in the breeze of his breath. I remained to be amazed by how even my body seemed to react to him, separate of my mind, my skin prickled with a dizzying sense of flight, my eyes softened, even my nipples pressed against the fabric of my dress, hardened like smooth pebbles on the shore, eddying waves of pleasure soothing them with every ebb and flow of my breath.

My mind was lit like a live wire, examining both the close proximity of Bo next to me, with me, yet also scanning the crowd, seeing faces turn and smile at our behest, until I saw one particular face, lined in worry, frowning in anger.

My stomach plummeted through the floor, icy flecks of shame crept along my veins, like a freshly administered needle, it scraped along my nerves.

Looking every bit as old as she was, those sixty some years etched into her face. Violet. Violet Davies, for all intents and purposes - my mother in law. Deep crows feet lined her emerald eyes, lines of age as well as pain drew down her face like raindrops on a foggy window - blurring her expression from me.

I saw her pupils zero in on me, and prepared for the worst. But nothing happened, her eyes left mine and she continued speaking with other townsfolk, although I noticed, I never left her line of sight. Even if she wasn’t looking directly at me, I was forever in her periphery.

Bo pulled me to a tall, dark and handsome man, dressed similarly in his army greenery.

“Emily this is Leonard, he’s one of my best friends…here…anyway” Bo’s voice dropped, and a frown shadowed his features but for a moment.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, so this is the beautiful young lady Bo’s been talking about non stop since we landed” he smiled widely at me, his glance taking in both myself and Bo. Us, as a unit, a oneness

“Pleasure” I echoed, extending my hand, Leonard took it and bowed his head slightly.

“N-non stop?” I eyed Bo, the corners of my eyes creasing in his direction, my intent less than innocent.

“Not exactly…” his fingers found the honey fronds of his hair and tugged, signalling his discontent.

“Oh no, he took breaks, y’know, to eat, to sleep…but somehow even when he was asleep he couldn’t stop mentioning you…” Leonards face twisted in mocking, the O of his mouth stretching, the register of his voice dropping to more accurately mimic Bo’s.

“’Oh…Emily’” Leonard cooed, and Bo’s face turned unnaturally crimson, shining like a bright red beacon of embarrassment.

“O-oh?” I turned to Bo, my own face equally as red.

“Must’ve been some dream, huh Bo?” Leonard winked towards him and said, once a long beat had passed, “If you’ll excuse me, there is mead to drink and British girls to meet”

Leonard left us in the silence he had created, a fortuitous imbalance in the scales, leaving me frothing in the belly, eager to hear more about what he had been saying about me - conscious or not.

After a few seconds that stretched out into eternity, I found the courage to speak, “Some dream, hmm?”

“Y-yeah, you may have appeared in a dream or two of mine, I guess” his sky blue eyes danced around the hall, landing on every object and person other than me, his frame hunched over with a fresh flavour of discomfort.

“Would you like to tell me about them?” A devilish smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, as he slowly brushed a tendril of hair behind my ear, his soft fingers grazing the lobe ever so slightly, he leaned in to me, searing the words into my brain as he whispered,

“No, but perhaps later, I’ll show you” his words were like velvet to my ears, wrapping me in their sublime embrace, making me ache between my legs at the languid promise behind his lips.

He pressed a tiny kiss into the skin behind my ear, as we drained our glasses dry of the mead, walked around the room like a couple of socialites. The evening carried on with much of the same, Bo introducing me to his fellow soldiers and me, being utterly enthralled seeing him in conversation with some of my best friends, how he was genteel, how he set alight the night like a flame burning on into the darkness.

“I’m going to powder my nose, I’ll be right back, okay?” Bo squeezed my wrist, the tender look in his blue eyes made me never want to leave his sight.

Returning from the ladies room I should have been more aware, had more of my wits about me, as a thin, spindly hand found my shoulder, and turned me around, just shy of the double doors of the hall.

“Emily, my dear, how lovely to see you?” The sweet trill of her voice echoed through my mind, wrenching memories to the forefront, spilling my cup full of joy across the floor.

“Mrs, Mrs Davies” I stuttered, the one and a half glasses of mead I had drunk rushing to my head in an instant. Bringing the ground closer to my vision.

“I think that is also your name, is it not? Violet, I have told you to call me that many times, but I think it has been so long since we have spoken, that you seem to have forgotten I even existed at all” her tongue was pointed, slicked with poison and ready to strike.

I paused, drinking in the shattering situation second by second, unable to think of anything to say.

“Violet, h-how are you?” I switched on my daughter in law self, zeroing in on that part of myself I hadn’t seen in years, hadn’t tapped into. I let my weight shift from my left foot to my right, and some part of me I knew was readying to run.

“Why would you care, my daughter in law, so sweet and innocent on the outside, but then I see you cavorting around with some American soldier, hanging off your arm like a prized pig, have you no self respect, young lady?” she spat at me, her wrinkled hands wringing out the skirt of her dress. Her face was a picture of hurt, of anger, and she was finally letting it all out, into me.

“I..I” nonplussed, backed through the doors as she continued her cold, calculated walk toward me, unaware we were walking centerstage.

She downed the rest of her drink, glinting green in the bright party lights, and shook the bitterness away as she swallowed, preparing to throw another painful comment back at me at a moment's notice.

She poised, eyes narrowing like a snake just before they snagged their prey - and then she struck.

“You play the part of the grieving widow exceedingly well, my dear, but I’m afraid you are not fooling a single person here, all too keen to slip into bed with some Yank at the first opportunity, carrying on around town like you aren’t living in filth, in sin every time you stray from Tommy!”

Her words hit me like a slap, stung my face and sallowed my heart.

Tears formed in the corners of my eyes, as I finally bit back a response “Mrs Davies….V-Violet, it’s been two years, I-I think about Tommy every day, but-”

With the rising volume of the room, her voice matched it, garnering the attention of everyone in the hall, eliciting a hush from the festivities, pausing it with her poison.

“But what, girl?! We were all there the day you swore to love him, serve him forever, my baby boy might be dead, but love never dies!” she slammed her fist down, taking the tiny crystal goblet with it, smashing loudly on the floor, nary a whisper could be heard as she lunged for me.

Her thin fingers gripped at the arm of my dress, her nails poking through the fabric and sticking like pins into my forearm “Look at you, whored up to the nines, your arm slung around the first Yank that pays you any attention - Emily, we reached out to you, loved you as if you were the daughter we never had, and look how you repaid us, where is your dignity?” I couldn’t help but let out a shallow scream as she drew blood, not only from my arm, but from my heart.

Bo parted the crowd and raced for me, roughly grasping my shoulders and pulling me back from her.

“Wh-what the hell is going on” Bo huffed, no anger, no spite, just worry.

“You” she pointed her finger like a dagger toward Bo “How dare you lure my daughter in law to a life of sin, leading her to break her marriage vows, how very dare you! Damn you!”

You could have heard a pin drop in that room, or the erratic thumping of my own heart against my ribcage, each beat more painful than the last.

“Violet, Violet, darling!” the crowd parted once again for Eric to rush toward us, as fast as he could, his limp hindering him somewhat.

“I’m so sorry, she-she gets like this when she drinks” Eric wrenched his wife away from us, away from the prying eyes of the crowd, and held her in his arms “P-please, this is not right, she is young, she deserves to love again, live again, after Tommy, no-one could have prepared us for this, but let the poor girl move on,” Violet collapsed into angry tears in her husbands chest, her eyes not meeting mine again - out of guilt or embarrassment, I didn’t know.

Eric shot me an apologetic look, his brown eyes a mirror image of his son’s, my Tommy’s - looking back at me reproachfully, yet full of understanding, as he herded his wailing wife from the room, and the muttering and party slowly started back up, a slow Christmas tune beginning on the piano.

My jaw wobbled and my eyes stung, I turned and buried my face in Bo’s chest, using his warm body as a comfort, inhaling his scent like I hadn’t breathed at all for the last few minutes.

“Do you wanna get outta here?” Bo mumbled in my ear. I nodded silently, hot tears still dripping from my chin.

We walked back from the town hall, what was once a sprinkling of snow gave way to flurries and draughts of it, coating the fields and the few houses we passed in white, drifting around us on our travels.

“I’m guessing that was…Tommy’s parents” Bo sighed between drags of a cigarette held tightly between his fingers - I noticed he was smoking faster than usual, sucking some mindfulness out of that cherry, trying to keep calm.

“Y-yes” I said, my voice still shaking from the attack, my nerves in ribbons, the only thing stilling my shaking legs was his hand that gripped mine, tight, unwavering even in the snow drifts.

“They’re still suffering…you all are” he noted astutely, and I was struck dumb for a few moments, the howling of the wind the only noise amongst us.

“You’re right, you know” I sniffled “I don’t know if it ever really stops, ever can stop” I felt a fresh wave of sorrow wash over me with each passing snowflake that landed on my coat, and then it was Bo’s chance to be silent, before I heard a low “Fuck” that he whispered, “It’s really cold, let’s get you home?” he smiled at me, the pity I had once seen in his eyes not quite gone, but changed, different, this time.

Shutting the door behind us we shivered in the hall, the inside of the house not being much warmer than the outside. I shrugged off my coat, and there was a pleasant silence that hung between us, floating on that cool winter air. I had barely noticed on the walk that my dress, much like my mental state - had twisted into something altogether different, becoming more of a mess than I could ever imagine.

“Mr Davies was right, you do too, deserve love, I mean” he said, hazarding a glance down to my dishevelled dress, how I hadn’t noticed it had clung oddly to parts of my body, twisted slightly so my breasts were on show, my cleavage peeking out through the green chiffon.

“E-even like this?” I uttered, holding back a fresh wave of snivelling and tears, my hands limp by my side.

“Absolutely, especially like this” he smirked, taking a step toward me. “R-really?” I blubbed as the tears started, unashamed, pouring down my face once again.

“Yes, Emily” he spoke with such clarity, the straight faced confidence to my quivering misery. “Really” he soothed, his words a gentle stream of calm that began to flow through my veins and soothe my aching heart.

“May we continue where we left off?” Bo bit his lip, and in that moment I wanted nothing more. I nodded and his lips were on mine, searching, asking, pleading and I returned in kind, searching for that feeling that was so elusive - that connection.

I could still taste the tang of mead on his lips, the frustrated burn of a cigarette smoked in worry as we walked the two miles from town to the house, thrown to the ground and stubbed out in frustration as we trod through the building snow drifts. My fingers gripped his jacket, the cool whisper of the thin layer of snow kissing my fingertips as I pulled him toward me, pushed the cold coat off his shoulders and let it hit the floor with an almighty thud.

Bo threaded his arms around me and pulled me up into a tight kissing hug, our lips not separating and my feet barely touching the ground.

This time his kiss was slow, patient and yielding, not the first fiery heat of mouth on mouth, but calm, considerate, like we had all the time in the world.

We might as well have had all the time, because as we settled into one another, every touch every breath felt like an exploration, an adventure into the unknown.

His cool body pressed against mine leeched the heat from me, at once cooling and heating. Bo walked me backwards, back toward the dining room table, catching my behind unaware as I leaned into the support, felt my arms pull him closer into me as we collapsed into the table.

“Is this-” Bo punctuated with kisses “Is this o-” and without even letting him finish I sighed a “Yes” against his lips, as if our mouths were to part it would be our destruction - be the end of everything.

Perched on the kitchen table Bo only had to bend down a little to access my mouth, bridging the gap between our heights, raising me up to him. My hands, that could not be everywhere at once, rested on his lapels, pulling him further into me, dreading that there was any space at all between us.

“You looked so beautiful tonight” he mused against my cheek, trailing a hot path of fire down to my neck, “And this dress, stunning, but” he paused, raising his head to catch my eye “But I would like to see what is underneath, how I have dreamt about it” - in the dark room, his piercing blue eyes hit me like a gunshot to the chest - wounding, life altering.

Standing between my parted thighs I pulled him ever closer, keen to feel him through our clothes, feel all of him.

He thrust against me, and I felt his thick need press into me, punching out any breath I had kept in my lungs, the hardness between his legs, meeting my melting softness, pestle to mortar.

Already I felt that familiar ache deep inside, something stretching, taut, almost painful in its insistence - that I needed to have him, and right then in that heady moment, I didn’t feel like denying myself.

I pulled on the fabric of his shirt, my lips parting momentarily from his as I mumbled “Upstairs” - one single word that fuelled him to grasp me hard, by the waist as I wrapped my legs around his, he picked me up, our pleased giggles bouncing off one another as we attempted to remain kissing - our lips fighting for prominence over our wavering strength.

Somehow, we made it to the bedroom, bursting through the door he gracefully lowered me to the ground, his hands not pausing for a second as he explored my body through the dress, I stilled his hands in my own as I turned around, pulling the long swathe of my mahogany hair over my shoulder, baring the dress’ buttons, trailing down my spine.

Our breaths beating out the thrumming of the blood in my head, a moment passed, and as I looked over my left shoulder to see what Bo was doing, it struck me like lightning. His sapphire eyes gazing at me as if I were something to be eaten, all the sensitivity and emotion behind his eyes transformed into something darker, something more animal than man.

“S-sorry, I just want to remember this moment” he choked out as he approached me, his teeth pressing into his bottom lip.

His lips found the nape of my neck and laved at my skin, pressing delicate light kisses interspersed with hot, sharp nicks as his fingers traversed the edge of my dress, finding the buttons - the final barrier between us and absolute dissolution - the last frontier.

“I can’t begin to tell you” Bo whispered in between kisses “How much I have thought about this” One button undone. “About you.” his lips hissed at the flesh of my ear, sending shivering tendrils up and down my spine. Two buttons undone.

“I felt so sore about wanting this, wanting you, I-” a pathetic squeal left his mouth as the final button popped out I spun around and quietend his lips with my own - talking could come later, but for now, I needed action. Shrugging off the fabric of my dress I let it fall to the floor. I made quick work of his shirt, loosening the tie and buttons like our lives depended on it. It soon joined the haphazard pile of our clothing, the evidence of our undoing.

Backing toward the bed, I realised the only thing I still wore was the hot gold ring hanging next to my sternum. Pointedly, I caught Bo’s eyes, a sorrow and a depth reflected right back at me as he noticed my remaining adornment. I didn’t once break eye contact as I fumbled behind my neck for the clasp - as slowly as I needed, although it felt like the briefest of seconds, I unclasped the necklace, letting the ring and the delicate chain pool into my palm.

Biting my lip I let the necklace slip through my fingers on to the dresser, our gaze never once wavering as I did so - the understanding apparent in his eyes, left me feeling woozy, unsteady on my feet - and he was all the more ready to be the gravity that kept me grounded.

Quickly we sank into the sheets, our mouths never stopping the assault on one another, totally enmeshed in each other.

He sank down my body, paying precious attention to the peak of my breast and the swell of my hips, but his lips were focusing on a new goal, the simmering heat between my thighs that he had scented on the air - thick, dripping and all for him.

Shyly I parted my legs, letting his head rest prettily between them - frame his gorgeous face like a painting - only not one that would be suitable to show in a gallery or museum - no, this one was for my eyes only.

Bo’s hands rested at my belly, his fingers tracing tiny patterns of love into my skin, and he looked up at me with such lust I thought I may peak right there and then - if only I knew what pleasures were in store for me.

His tongue parted me and I swore I saw God. My fingers made taut fists in the bed linen as he delved deeper, licking, sucking and loving on the most sensitive part of me - a direct line to my soul.

I could nary stop myself from moaning out in agonising bliss as he continued, his tongue just as capable of poetry on my body as it was on paper, his mouth instead of his hand creating the backdrop of our evening, soaked in mead and firmly grounded in lust.

Though it wasn’t long before his artistic fingers found me, too, at the deepening swell between my thighs, a devastating feeling of fullness surprised me as his lips continued their sacred musings, his fingers, nestled inside me like it was their home, blending together to form the “O” of my mouth, the sweet drip of sublime nectar through my veins.

“Bo” I whispered hoarsely, my fingers entrenched in that dark muss of blond atop his head, and in the lamp light, he lifted his chin up, shining lewdly full of me, “Yes? Is this okay?”

Worry framed his silvery eyes and I reassured him all too quickly “No, no it’s perfect, don’t stop, please, I…” my face heated with embarrassment “I’m so close” I whimpered meekly.

No sooner had I reassured him, he dove back in, quickening his pace and doing something so devilish with his tongue that I was on the precipice of reality.

Suddenly I was rocketing over the edge, roils of decadence so sweet washed over me in waves as he continued his assault on my senses, albeit more gentle as he played with me, teased out every last shudder and quake with his lips, feeling it feedback on his fingers.

He rose from my thighs, lips shining with my arousal, he slowly licked the remnants off before he kneeled on the bed in front of me - above me.

I came up to meet him, tugging on his belt that caged the beast within, a teasing bob from his trousers where he tented them so well.

He pushed the now wild tendrils of my hair behind my neck as he knelt on the bed, I hazard a look up at him and was beset by the way his eyes gazed down at me, fixated on my own, the way his mouth, loose and open was still catching up after the breath he had lost between my thighs.

“Let me, let me love you” he broke the silence helping me with the trousers and his underpants as he kicked them off the bed.

I was stopped only by the feast my eyes were feeding on. His tumescence was indubitably large, thick and the head - the head stood proud and at attention toward me, the skin dark pink and taut, and my mouth watered at the sight - but that was for another time.

“Is it, are you…” he paused, his fist coming to his cock, loosely palming it between his thick fingers, his eyes begging a question I was all the more ready to answer.

“I-I’ve just never seen one like-like that” I breathed, my eyes undoubtedly large as they took in his feast.

The lust that had clouded his vision seemed to dissipate slightly, giving way to a more demure man, somewhat ashamed of the gift God had given him “I’m-I’m sorry” he sighed.

“No, no” I huffed a deep breath “It’s so-so beautiful” I sighed, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip.

In silent proposition I uncurled my legs from each other, crooking them at the knees I looked up at him, kneeling above me on the bed, his ragged breaths turning even rougher as he slowly pleasured himself in front of me.

“P-please, Bo” I mumbled, my right hand slipping up my stomach to cup my breast, needing some stimulation, “Will you love me?” I lightly tweaked my nipple, and saw his eyes flicker, the fog of need rolling in over his face once again.

“Are you asking me to-”

“Fuck me, Bo, please” I begged, my voice cracking on the plea, the shade covering his beautiful blues as he sank further into the bed, encompassing my body with his own, sublime embrace.

He lay betwixt my thighs, propped up on his left forearm his free hand roamed my upper body, his eyes following in its wake, I had never felt so gloriously worshipped, so meticulously studied, as if he were trying to imprint my bare body to his mind - remember it forever.

“I don’t wanna just fuck you, Emily, I think I-” he lowered himself on to me, and I felt the velvetine hardness of his head press up against me “I think I want to make love to you”

“P-please” I stuttered, my hand slipping between our bodies to find him in the dark, in the heat. I grasped on to him, thick and pulsating. Bo let out a noise not unlike a wounded animal, thrusting up into my hand, smearing the precum over my fist as I tried desperately to move him into position - move him closer to my aching centre.

“Emily” Bo grunted as he slid inside me, my slickness helping but his size pushed every boundary I had, squeezed every last drop of doubt I had - replaced it with certainty.

Stuttered breaths found their way out of my mouth, coalescing with his as his tender buds found my own, our lips and tongues duelling in between hurried breaths as his thick member slid along my walls, coating him in my sweet arousal, stringing me out for yet even more pleasure.

“S-should I pull out?” He choked against my neck, his hips reaching a mesmerising steady rhythm.

“I-I, Bo, I don’t think I can…get pregnant” he stopped the onslaught, smacking his lips together, the lust that furrowed his brow turned to despair as I spoke. He looked up from my throat, still sheathed inside me but completely still.

“Shit, I’m, so sorry Em” the lewdness of the situation eclipsed by his realisation.

“It’s alright, I want to feel you, feel all of you” I bit back tears as I slid my fingers into his hair, prompting his eyelids to close over those ocean eyes.

“If, if you’re sure” he whispered, nuzzling his nose into my neck lovingly.

I bucked up with a smirk “I’m incredibly sure”. - his response was a low growl that resonated through my blood and my bones, sending me shuddering beneath him.

The heat we created while the snow performed its wintry dance outside, bested our bodies and our minds. The moon peeking over the snow heavy clouds illuminated our slick bodies, tensing with every breath, every sumptuous movement that made us feel like shattering into a million pieces, and we counted on every single one of them.

Bo’s hips snapped against me and my nails dug into his shoulders. I cried out, eternally thankful that the house lay far away from any others, my moans carrying on into the snow filled night. Sweat covering every inch of my skin and his, he cupped my chin with his hand, with every thrust he found something deeper within me, discovered a new facet of my life. Wrote a new, devastating sentence for me.

Smacking his lips he released his own tumid groans into my mouth. Pulling back he commanded my gaze, not letting me look away for a second - not that I would wish to. The way his blond hair stuck to his forehead, ruby red swollen lips pursed in pleasure, I wanted to watch it all unfold on his face at that moment.

“B-Bo” I moaned, my fingertips grasping at the back of his hair for something - anything stable to hold on to as he moved inside of me.

One of his hands left my shoulders, but I was so filled with sensation I barely noticed, that was until his thick fingers found that throbbing spot between us, and he coaxed yet another shaking climax out of me. I clenched around him almost painfully, my nails involuntarily scraping down the back of his neck, his shoulders. When I finally opened my eyes once again, Bo's face was scrunched in absolute pleasure. I freed one of my hands from his back and cupped his jaw, and that was the catalyst.

He shook against me, his lips finding the crook of my neck as he emptied so perfectly into me - I gladly took it from him, appreciating every drop that he blessed me with.

“W-was it as good as you dreamt?” I questioned, my mouth finally being of some use other than moaning out his name.

Bo chuckled lowly, still catching his breath in the afterglow. “Better” he mumbled against the hollow of my neck, pressing lazy kisses into the thrumming pulse at my throat.

We stilled for a few minutes, hearing our heaving breaths and watching the snow drifts outside my window. The relative silence compared to the deafening pleasures of moments passed seemed fitting, as we barely parted, our lips finding one anothers in lazy, sleepy kisses, finding the duvet at the bottom of the bed and pulling it up over our spent bodies. Finding one another among the sheets, entangling in our own, blissed out way as we drifted into sleep. Our subconsciousness catching a wave on each other's frequency, our bodies wrecked and weary, but our minds delving into a haunting, decadent dream world.

#you get it early bc I’m tired and need to sleep ✌️#love blooms #bo burnham #bo burnham fanfic #bo burnham fanfiction #bo burnham smut #bo burnham x reader #bo burnham/reader #bo burnham imagine #wwII au

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romantiquesnouvelles · 2 years

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Julie and the Phantoms as Bo Burnham Quotes Part 1

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #jatp x bo burnham #bo burnham quotes #today Justine reblogged one of my jatp x John mulaney posts #and she was like #I miss this series please bring it back #and I said #I see your jatp x John mulaney request and I raise you a jatp x bo burnham

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sunlightbabe · 2 years

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GAME PLAN:

make dinner (sweet and tangy chicken thighs w rice and grilled zucchini)

shower

fold laundry

tackle fluff prompts

perhaps tackle some of the smut prompts

#emily.txt #[bo burnham voice] are you gonna hold me accountable?#someone come yell at me to write in two hours pleas and thank you x

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ataraxiaspainting · 3 months

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Icarus.

Yan (Emperor) Zhongli x F Reader.

Synopsis: You were taught ever since you opened your eyes to never go against your god. So why do you wish now that you have never opened them at all?

Warnings: Yandere themes, major power imbalances, manipulation, future forced marriage, some violence/gore, and unhealthy relationships.

Word Count: 3k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Little Dark Age by MGMT

As the World Caves In by Matt Maltese

The Other Side Of Paradise by Glass Animals

All Eyes On Me by Bo Burnham

Space Song by Beach House

Murders by Miracle Musical

Tongues & Teeth by The Crane Wives

Teacher’s Pet by Melanie Martinez

A Pearl by Mitski

Isabella’s Lullaby by Takahiro Obata

*~*~*~*

“‘You know that I love you.’ And despite herself, Coraline nodded. It was true. The other mother loved her. But she loved Coraline as a miser loves money, or a dragon loves its gold. In the other mother's button eyes, Coraline knew that the other mother loved her as a possession, nothing more, a tolerated pet whose behavior was no longer amusing.” – Neil Gaiman, Coraline

*~*~*~*

There is no sin greater than to be a bird.

To be a bird is to be devoid of all burdens, soaring above all who are shackled by them, like a warden overseeing prisoners, or the sweetest and ripest peaches up on the highest of branches so no one can reach it. They can go anywhere, birds, with the winds at their call, the very embodiment of freedom itself, something your god has taught all his people to be wary of. Freedom can be a blessing, he told one of his counselors once, but it can also cause humans to be too conceited. There is no sin greater than to be a bird because all others will be envious. Envy is also a sin, one so common that even Archons are said to possess it. Sin gives birth to more sin, more suffering, and thus only the original that birthed it all shall be punished by Celestia’s fury.

There is no greater sin than to be a bird, so the gods put in place cages, made to make those trapped by gold and chains and other things entirely. Birds who are not lured into such traps are dealt with by lightning, making them fall back down to the ground below, the last thing they see is the very sky that punished them. The sky, the stars, the moon, the sun… the entire world will be against you when you are a bird.

It will be that way until you die. The world hates birds and the way they fly and soar. Birds are meant for cages, or to be struck down with their corpses made into trophies.

There is no title greater than to be a hunter.

The sin; to be a bird, freedom… the title; to be a hunter, despotism.

To shoot, to stab, to twist until the prey bursts, is the way of someone whose greatest sin is doing good for this world.

To bleed, to be trapped, to be killed and put on display for all to see, that is what a bird’s purpose truly is, in the eyes of the divine.

They are different, quite so, like different ripples in lakes of mixed blood and water.

You can almost hear them, can’t you?

Celestia favors the strong. Celestia despises the weak. It makes sense to most people, those who were born into power be it money made from blood or strength made from blood. They don’t see the way the world works. The way flies feast upon rotting meat and are soon to be eaten by something bigger. It makes sense for most people, but not for you. Despite everything you have ever been taught from word of mouth, life on the streets teaches you otherwise. For everything you have endured, you have learned that you are not weak. In any case, quite the opposite.

You don’t pray anymore with everyone else, as they keep reciting such things over and over again at the states positioned throughout Liyue as if the emperor would listen to them.

“O Almighty Geo Archon, give us your blessings for the many moons ahead of us all!” They would hold hands with their bodies being placed in circles around the sculptures. They close their eyes altogether, to not see the sacrifices trapped between them at the monuments, the last thing they see is the Lord of Geo’s face, looking down at them with a stone-cold glare laced with eerie delight. “O Almighty Geo Archon, give us your blessings for the many moons ahead of us all! O Almighty Geo Archon, give us your blessings for the many moons ahead of us all!”

To be praying and to be preying are two quite different things, but to the people of Liyue, there is no difference. Blood seeps into the earth all the same, regardless of who sheds it. So, as evidence that the people of Liyue do indeed bow down to Celestia’s every whim, they bring birds of all kinds and steal them of all they have. Their feathers make for excellent clothing, their bones make for stellar weaponry, and their feet make for charms of good luck. Celestia only smiles down upon the strong, after all. Celestia despises freedom because, without the divine, humans would have nothing to leash them onto rationality and laws. Perhaps that is why Mondstadt is very much in chaos now. Their god was said to have betrayed Celestia by giving his people forbidden knowledge of how nature originally ran its course, causing an uproar among the citizens.

No one knows what happened to the god of Mondstadt after that.

Was he smitten down? Did his people turn on him? No one in Liyue knows for certain, as people of Mondstadt are forbidden from entering the land said to be made up of the purest of gold.

“O Almighty Geo Archon, give us your blessings for the many moons ahead of us all!”

That is the first thing you hear when you wake up, huddled in a corner to prevent yourself from getting even more wet from the rain. You assume that maybe it will be the last thing you hear when you close your eyes for good.

*~*~*~*

You grew up in Qiaoying Village and, once you grew up, got exiled from Qiaoying Village. You stood out, which no one saw in a good light. You were a mischievous, rule-breaking child, always stealing Jadevein Tea Eggs and both tea and tea sets made of fine porcelain. Your older brother taught you lessons far too valuable and unique for the traditionalist settings of Qiaoying Village, lessons like how to pick the elderly’s door’s locks, how to properly identify which pockets had the most Mora, and how to make alleyways a labyrinth for those who chase you.

Your older brother, though, did not partake in thievery himself. You suppose that might have been the first warning sign of many more to come. He made you, a child about half his age, do his dirty work for him. He always hoarded the rewards afterward, and if you got caught or he got caught with whatever treasure you had given him, he would pretend to scold you for going against the way of the Qiaoying. He said it was just pretend, but that look in his eyes still haunts you to this very day. As you got older, though, you got dumber. You crossed a line with everyone. You decided to steal from a Fontainian duke.

It was a foolish decision. Fontainians are known for their high sense of justice, and their tunnel vision when it comes to crimes and punishments. But you were just a child, were you not?

You couldn’t help it. You were just a child. That is what you told yourself then, and it is what you tell yourself now.

No one helped you then, and no one helps you now. Hell, it would be a miracle, a blessing from Celestia, if your older brother came to Liyue Harbor to visit you. But he never loved you, did he? He never loved you, and you never hated him until you saw him for what he truly is. A petty servant of Madam Mei with a spine thinner than that of a twig. He was a coward then, and likely still a coward now. Perhaps it would have been noble of him, while you were still an infant, to use that pocket knife he always carried around. It would have been better for you, for you to not know anything you know about him now.

But he was a coward, your older brother. The person who taught you everything about thievery is also now the person who taught you how important it is to keep your cards close. Life on the streets calls for both, you suppose. Liyue Harbor may not be the friendliest for the homeless, but at the very least it had pockets to swipe into when no one was looking. Old habits die hard. You ended up relying on every memory of the past, no matter how bitter or how deceivingly sweet they were. You bore it. You bore it all. Every memory, every fragment of a lie, and every fragment of a half-truth. Life is never so simple after all, is it?

Your life was never perfect, and therefore still is not now. But you know deep in your heart that you would prefer this life over seeing your older brother’s face ever again.

But now, with eyes brighter than amber staring above you as you lay, your arm broken, you wish that your brother had taught you some fighting skills instead of everything else he taught you.

But he was a coward, and so are you.

To be fair, though, he never met the emperor and never thought that he would. So did you. No one in Qiaoying Village did, most likely. It was so far from the proclaimed harbor made of gold and trader’s blood and prayers. This was where the emperor lived, in his castle in the mountains surrounding Lingju Pass and Mount Tianheng. It was made up of the finest gold and wood and jewels. Only the best for the emperor, while people like you get mere pebbles. That is why, when you saw yet another stranger in a white cloak roaming around the alleyways, you attempted to strike. Your mistake.

Your mistake.

You were on the ground in an instant, your arm breaking so loudly an elderly man on his deathbed could hear it.

The stranger’s eyes glittered like gold.

Frozen gold, perhaps, with how he was staring down at you with such disappointment.

So, he stared down at you.

You stared down at your arm.

You should have known better. But you are just someone trying to live, are you not? It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. But that white cloak the man is wearing with the sigil of geo on the back, one of the few symbols of the emperor himself, should have made you not attempt to pickpocket him. You should have known better. You really should have known better. Should you apologize? You are already as good as dead though, aren’t you?

Does a death sentence await you?

Life? Death? Prison? Life. Death. Prison.

Escape.

You have to escape.

But the emperor seems to know what you are doing, what you are planning.

So he stops you with a simple hand raised, and pillars of geo appear out of nowhere, trapping you in the corner. Now there is nowhere to run.

He stares down at you.

You stare down at your feet, all mangled up from a life made of thievery and poverty.

He doesn’t speak. Neither do you. You prefer it that way.

You are in a cage. But he is not.

Please.

Please don’t kill me.

Please.

*~*~*~*

Is it a sin to indulge? Perhaps it is, perhaps it is not. Perhaps it depends. Is the indulgence centered in reality or fantasy? This escape attempt, perhaps, is both.

Like the many that came before it, the only sounds you can hear is the rain, the water falling from the glass windows like teardrops, and sometimes you can swear you hear the sound of someone weeping. Despite everything you have gone through though, you do not weep with them, whoever they are. You only keep stepping on ahead for a brighter future, one where you sneak off to Sumeru, a land that prioritizes knowledge over riches. You’d have a better life there than here, you think. Anywhere but here you would run off to actually, even if it was Snezhnaya.

You are treated well, too well.

You still don’t know why instead of throwing you in the dungeons, Morax placed your unconscious body in one of the many, many guest rooms that were spread about in his castle.

You are treated far too well, almost to the point that it is maddening. Everything is so perfect, from the morning birds outside your window that wake you up every morning when it just so happens to be time for breakfast to the hairbrush you use to put your hair up when it is time to sleep, the design intricately laced with jade and topaz. Perfect, perfect, perfect. It’s maddening, sickening, how perfect everything is. You wish he had just put you in a cell because at least then everything would not have been so planned out for you, even the type of flowers you saw in the gardens that week.

“Damn it all…”

In your opinion, the clothes you received today were more intricate than usual. The sleeves are puffed and transition from white to a deep teal color. The dress itself showcases delicate lace patterns of glaze lilies around the waist and wrists, while the skirt is impractically long for any running. Strangely, the inside of the skirt features a constellation pattern, though it seems to be a design meant for your eyes alone. The purpose of this starry sky motif remains unclear. The dress, like everything else, appears flawless and fits you perfectly, almost as if it was tailored specifically for you. Given Morax's wealth, you can't help but entertain the possibility. However, the overwhelming perfection of it all borders on madness. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect, so damn perfect.

Today, you were not given shoes, presumably due to the rain and the consequent cancellation of your garden visit with Morax, where you typically indulge in tea and wine. As you approached the staircase leading to the dining room, however, the guards obstructed your path. Their actions were gentle, but their words were not. They formed a human barricade, preventing your descent. One guard clicked their tongue disapprovingly, while the other remained silent. Perhaps they harbored some disdain towards you. The servants in this establishment either treated you with utmost care or completely disregarded your presence, so it was not entirely surprising that the guards displayed a semblance of dislike.

The real surprise was you not being allowed to go to the dining room to eat.

“The emperor wants you to stay in your room for the time being. He shall see you shortly there.”

So, you went back, albeit muttering curses along the way. Due to your lack of shoes and the guards not even allowing you to go downstairs, this escape attempt is as short-lived as a moth flying much too close to a flame.

As you were told, Morax came in his usual attire, black and brown robes with a geo sigil on the back.

“...”

“I have been told that you have been getting a bit too curious with your wandering.”

Ah, straight to the point, it would seem.

There is no point trying to beat around the bush when it comes to Morax. “It is not like there is anything else to do here.”

He sits beside you on the bed, not too close but not too far either. A perfect balance. “I can give you other activities to do if you would like. I can also answer some questions you have since you’ll be living here from now on.”

“...This isn’t temporary…” You look down at the arm he broke, a time which feels like a millennium ago. “Am I being charged?” Your question is quietly said. “Aren’t thieves simply sent to cells for a few moons?”

His chuckle was unexpected, causing a slight surprise. Morax, who was typically expressionless, wore a smile on his face. Despite the possibly good intentions behind it, the sight and sound were unsettling and made your skin crawl.

“...You don’t tell me anything.” You whisper under your breath. That much is clear. Despite Morax's little attempts to conceal it, his secrecy is unmistakable. You can't help but feel like a naive child stating the obvious.

“You are here for multiple reasons. For instance… you remind me of someone. As such, you must have questions, if you are anything like her.” His eyes glaze over you, from the top of your head where your hair is half put up with a hairpin to the anklet just hovering over your right foot. “All humans are born with an innate sense to pry. I won’t judge, as I am an Archon.” Are his words heartfelt? “Through my veins flow gold, but yours flow with sanguine, life, and desires.”

His hand reaches forward, but he does not touch you. “You must see yourself as better than us because of this. Am I correct?”

“My feelings are not as monochrome as they seem to you. They are complex, quite so. But you are right, in some regard.”

“This is why I cannot stand the so-called divine.”

“Another reason as to why you are here. You are a sleeper of such, and I intend to help you open your eyes to the truth.”

You look at his eyes, seeing all the horrors within their depths.

The emperor known as Morax possesses eyes of pure gold, along with attractive features and pale, rosy lips that curl into a sickly sweet smile. Your body instinctively reacts, urging you to flee before your mind can fully comprehend the situation. However, your brain, awakening and analyzing the situation, is interrupted by the overpowering force of instinct, echoing the same warning as your body: the charming smile is a mere facade, reminiscent of something unsettlingly artificial. It is akin to a sculpture with painted skin and eyes or a doll with exaggerated, intricate features. This man, with his literal golden eyes, his potentially persuasive words, and his captivating yet unnerving countenance, is someone you cannot trust.

Desperate to escape, you attempt to run, only to find that arms and hands, seemingly made of stone, emerge from the walls, gripping and restraining your own. Two of these strong hands ascend, slithering towards the center of your back, forcefully pushing you down into a bow, while you remain compelled to gaze upwards. Your focus remains fixated solely on the emperor's eyes, observing the eloquent patterns of gold within them.

The caress of their touch is tender upon your cheeks, unlike solid ones that demand for you to stay.

“You shall become my consort and see the gates of Celestia for yourself. Humans are made to worship, after all. The divine are made to simply awaken those who have strayed off the path of destiny.”

*~*~*~*

To possess the gift of sight, encompassing all, is the gravest transgression one can commit. Thus, those winged creatures who lack this awareness are banished to the depths of the earth, their vision, their literal eyes stripped away until their cries reverberate to the surface, where the emperor Morax shall pronounce the ultimate verdict.

#yandere #yandere x reader #author aya #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere zhongli #yandere zhongli x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #morax x reader #yandere morax #yandere morax x reader

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