#@ your other question if you dm me i can help you out !!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: gotta right my final reflection today and then I don't have schoolwork for a while!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

“So, when is the wedding?” Lillians asks over a half-empty plate. 

You take your time chewing. You don’t have an answer. As far as you’re concerned, this is Lloyd’s plot so he can come up with the detail. You're here to enjoy the wine. 

“Uh, the spring,” he blurts out. 

“The spring?” Gwenyth repeats. “Don’t you have a specific date?” 

“Erm, May something...” Lloyd says. 

“May? That’s so soon. If you don’t even have a date, I doubt you have a venue or a dress or--” Lillian counters. 

“Oh, well, we were thinking of. Er...” Lloyd turns his fork in this hand. “Eloping?” 

“Eloping,” Gwenyth hisses. “Eloping? Does that mean we’re not invited? It’s simply not fair.” 

“Mom, I--” 

“Gwen, he didn’t say that, did he?” 

“Well, dad--” 

“We are invited,” William states. It’s not a question. 

“You see what happens?” Gwen takes her cloth napkin and folds it, dabbing her tearless eyes, “the groom’s mother is always excluded. He is my son--” 

“A destination wedding would be nice,” William suggests. 

“Uh, of course. Yeah. We’d like to go somewhere far away, but uh, not far from you...” Lloyd stammers and you kick his foot. You could laugh at how flustered he is if you were entwined in his lies. He sits straighter, “We’ll have the invitations out soon. Everyone’s invited of course--” 

You kick him again. He slips his hand on your knee and squeezes, “we’re still figuring things out,” he declares. 

“Oh, it seems so!” Gwenyth clasps the napkin between her hands. “Darling, you must let me help. And Lillian. Her wedding was fabulous.” 

“Which one?” Lloyd snickers. 

“We’ll see if you even have one,” his sister retorts. 

He cackles and William sighs. 

“Yes, weddings. All that mess,” William drawls. “The ladies can suss out the details but I do believe it’s time for the yearly rematch.” 

“You still do that?” Lloyd asks. 

“Hm, of course. It is a tradition. What’s the matter? You too old, boy?” 

“Speak for yourself,” Lloyd bounces back, shocking you with the snipe. 

Another surprise, William laughs. 

“Ben may need to sit out,” William suggests. 

“Oh, to the contrary, old boy, I’ve had just enough bourbon that I am a prized asset in my state,” the man with the fluffy ash hair doffs his mug. 

“Hm, yes, Carter, Linus, Ransom, Ben, myself, Lloyd,” William counts on his fingers, “Dawson, Lewis, Hudson, and Owen. Quite the lineup this year.” 

You look at Lloyd confused. He doesn’t look excited. You reach under the table and move his hand off your leg. He flinches and glances over at you. 

“Is this some sort of cribbage tournament?” You scoff under your breath. 

He shakes his head. “Touch football...” 

“Football...” You peer across the table with concerns. At least four of the players named are a bit too old to be running around in the snow. 

“It’s fine. Just like tag,” Lloyd shrugs unconvincingly. You chew your lip as you consider him. His eyes follow the movement and you stop yourself. “What?” He asks. 

“I’m just trying to picture it,” you say. “You don’t seem like a football person.” 

“What does that mean? You don’t seem like one either? What would you know?” You hiss back. 

“Ah, dear,” William calls across the table, “do not fear for his safety. We are all family, no one means to hurt each other.” 

Despite his assurance, you’re even less convinced that there won’t be some horrible accident. Again, you remind yourself, it’s Lloyd’s problems. Your sole focus is the money. And the wine. 

You reach to drain your glass, “I’m not worried at all,” you smile, “oh, and honey,” you turn to Lloyd, “you never asked but I love football. I’m a big Bills fan, actually. Remember, laces out.” 

Lloyd grumbles and stands. The other men do in a lazy succession. They stretch and groan over the scraping chair legs. The women rise too and start to clear the table. You’re not a fan of that divide; the men get their fun and the women get to tidy, but you will not be as rude as they’ve accused you. 

You start to gather cutlery and plates. Lloyd startles you as he puts his hand on your hip to stop you. You face him. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” He says. 

You bat your lashes and smirk. You’re amused that he thinks you’re that concerned. 

“Oh, I’m sure you can handle a game of tag, but you might want to stretch. There’s no one you can pay to run the ball for you,” you snort. 

You move past him and follow Lillian. He huffs as you leave him to the rabble of old man talking trash. As you enter the kitchen, Lillian sets the plates on the counter and you put yours next to hers. You take the top one and scrape it clean. 

“You’ll enjoy it. It’s always a good show. I am interested to see the teams this year,” she trills. “Of course, without Lloyd around for so long, I had to step in. Unfortunately, this year, I'm in no condition to lace up.” 

“Oh, it sounds like a fun tradition,” you remark. 

“It’s wonderful fun,” she assures as Gwenyth enters. Lillian shifts closer and lowers her voice, “also, you might want to consider, Lloyd wasn’t keeping us from you, perhaps it was the opposite. We are a rather selective bunch.” 

You meet her bruising sneer and smile. The wine helps drown your agitation. Why should you be bothered? Once you have your money, it won’t worry what the bloated bitch thinks? Oops, let’s keep those thoughts inside. 

“Oh, I’ll be sure to thank him for that,” you wink. She frowns. 

“Leave the plates at the sink, ladies,” Gwenyth commands. “Let’s grab out coats! The powder’s fresh. It’ll be a good match.” 

It’s odd. You really didn’t take this horde of pretentious ghouls as the football type. Well, maybe not the NFL-watching, tailgating type in pickups or minivans. Still, you can’t help but be a little amped for a Christmas game. 

There’s a crunch at the front door. Andrea, Angela, and Raquel warble with Gwenyth, as Shanna, Linda, and Lana come over to admire Lillian’s bump and ask her about the birth plans, while you stand to the side and watch Beatrice with a few younger girls, the elder daughters from all those pairing, who are less than enthused about the whole show. The parade of names escape you though you hardly wonder who is who. 

Your eyes wander to the next room. The younger kids are kept busy before the large Christmas tree by women you haven’t been introduced too. You assume those are the nannies Lloyd mentioned. It’s rather grim, a family divided as if the younger generation were a nuisance. Despite the enthusiasm for Lillian’s coming child, the poor soul will only end up at kids’ table apart from their mother. 

The men chatter near the open door as a brisk wind flows in. As you reach for your coat, you collide with another. You turn in the tight space to face Ransom as he cracks his neck. 

“You going to cheer me on, baby girl?” He smirks at you. 

You stare at him crisply. You continue to pull your coat on as you censor the variations of ‘hell no’ rolling through your mind. You look around for an escape but there isn’t one. The entry way is packed with bodies. 

“It will be cathartic. You’d just be cheering on the team, not necessarily, cheering against your beloved fiance,” he snickers. 

You look at him dully, “oh, I'm certain you’ll run circles around a team full of middle aged and elder men.” 

“You love to see it,” he grins and reaches around you. Before you can react, he pinches your ass again. You hit his chest as he pulls away and rubs his fingertips together, “for good luck.” 

“You’re nasty.” 

“Look at who you came with, sweetheart,” he sticks his tongue out and turns away. “But I understand if it’s my ass you’re watching out in the snow.” 

You curl your lip as you zip up your coat and shuffle over near the women. The men disburse through the front door ahead of you. They holler at each other, pointing impatiently, “over there.”; “Ben, too far”, “No, you snap--” 

You watch them break into team in the snowy street, barren of cars in the calm of Christmas Day. You tuck your hands into your pocket as you stand along the curb and the other women puff clouds into the frigid air. Lazy flakes swirl down and add to the glowing ambiance of the wintry midday. 

William, Ransom, Linus, Dawson, and Hudson huddle on one side with the ball as the others, Benson, Lloyd, Carter, Lewis, and Owen watch, waiting to respond to the first play. You’re not expecting anything more than wobbling throws and clumsy runs, still, it’s better than arguing at the dinner table. 

Ransom gets down to snap to William. The ball passes hands as Dawson runs a route and Ransom and Linus block the front light. Hudson takes the running backs route for the fake handoff before William searches for his receiver. Not bad for amateurs, especially given the demographic. 

The ball is caught as Owen makes the touch. No proper tackle, just a tap on Dawson’s shoulders. The play end as the next play is called in the huddle. Instead of moving down the street, the team resets at the same line, counting yard from that point. 

Another snap. The run is stuffed as Lloyd makes the touch on Hudson, almost indifferent about the play. The women cheer but not at the right times. They’re not really paying attention as they garble about desserts or their hair stylists. 

“You know what would be perfect, some mulled cider,” Beatrice suggests. The comment does make you thirsty but you’re not so sure you’d trade the cold outside for that inside. 

The ball switches possessions. Lloyd takes the snap. You’re a bit surprised but Benson is swaying in his blocking position. That’s less shocking. 

Snap. A pass. Straight and on target. Carter, one of William’s brothers, makes the catch and runs for ten more. Or what’s assumed to be that man. 

A new call. Lloyd rambles out signals in a parody of a real game. “Blood. Wine. Beemer, beemer beemer. Black sheep...” Your eye is drawn by Ransom as he shifts low. You tilt your head. 

“Offside,” you mutter as the ball snaps. Ransom’s across the line before the blockers can react and before the ball can change hands. In an instant, Lloyd is in the snow beneath the other man. 

“Oh my!” “Gosh.” “Ransom...” The concern washes over the audience of women as the men stop the play and turn to look at the two men in the snow. 

The latch onto each other in a toothless brawl. Lloyd knocks Ransom into the snow and grabs his neck. Ransom grips him in turn and they roll back and forth, trying to throttle each other. The other men move to separate them. 

“You two,” William booms. 

“Oh, Ransom, what are you doing?” Linda rushes over. 

“Linda,” William growls as Lloyd is dragged away from her son. “We were kind in letting him come here after everything--” 

“Oh, don’t blame him. Your son is just as bad.” 

“My son has a job,” William snarls back. 

“Don’t worry, that cuck barely got a ding on me,” Lloyd sneers as he shrugs the other men off. There’s a raw and red patch on his cheek bone and snow in his mussed hair. Scratches peek out above his collar as he coughs. 

“Fucker’s weak as pudding,” Ransom jeers back. 

“Both of you. That’s disgusting,” William growls. “Enough. Both of you, benched.” 

“I didn’t do anything,” Lloyd whines. 

“Doesn’t matter. You’re ruining the game,” William says. “Both of you, go inside.” 

“He antagonized him,” Linda squalls, “you heard his play call--” 

“Your son’s grown. He can handle words,” William rebuffs. “You can go inside with them.” 

You’re disappointed. It wasn’t bad while it lasted. Lloyd chuffs and steps around his father. Several bodies move to keep him away from Ransom. He rolls his eyes and waves them off. 

“He’s not worth it,” he stomps over to you. “Whatever, let’s get some hot chocolate or some shit. Better than standing in the snow with a bunch of geezers.” 

He grabs your arm and you have no choice but to let him lead you away. You can hear Ransom pleading his own case, whining at his mom, as she huffs and sighs. The argument fades as you near the front door. 

Lloyd pushes through and drags you in with him. He checks his reflection in the wall mirror, fixing his hair as he winces. He left his coat and blazer inside, wearing only his black turtleneck, now wet from the snow and streaked with salt along his back. He shakes his head at himself. 

You undo your coat and hang it. You almost want to call it a day. You came to brunch, you faced the wolves, and there isn’t enough wine to make them tolerable. 

He touches his cheek and hisses, “ugh, bastard.” 

“Hard hit,” you say. 

“Sure was. Who knew the brat had it in him?” He gingerly presses his cheekbone, “ugh, well, Pix, how about you kiss it better?” 

“What?” You grimace. “No way.” 

“But it hurts,” he turns to you and pushes his bottom lip out. 

“Uh uh,” you cross your arms. “We need to talk. About the wedding.” 

“Really? You wanna talk about that?” 

“Lloyd, I said a courthouse.” 

“I know but...” he pauses and glances around the entry way, “come on.” 

He ushers you down the hall and into the bathroom. He shuts the door and you’re once more trapped in the tight space with a Hansen twin. He stands in front of the door as he faces you. 

“Look, I’m just trying to get this done. It’s good for both of us. You want your money, don’t you? So you need to play along.” 

“I am.” 

“It’s just a fucking ceremony and a dinner.” He argues. 

“It’s not what I agreed too.” 

“Yeah, well, we have to be convincing if we want our prize.” 

You scowl, “I really am not enjoying this whole ‘we’ narrative.” 

“That’s the script, Pixie pie. So put a little bit of energy into it.” He steps closer and you stiffen as he puts his hands on your shoulders. “Loosen up and you might actually have a bit of fun.” 

“It was supposed to be the holiday and the courthouse,” you insist. 

“Not good enough. We both know it.” 

“I want more money,” you grit. 

He pouts again, “you drive a hard bargain for such a soft little thing.” 

You push him away as he goes to stroke his cheek. 

“Two million. I’m not wearing a white dress for anything less.” 

“Baby, please, you’re bleeding me dry--” 

“I’m not blind, Lloyd.” You look around emphatically, “I know what I’m asking for is a fraction of what you’ll get. I’ve worked for you long enough to know your tactics. Whatever I ask, I’m being undersold. Two or I walk right now.” 

He takes a deep breath and lets it out, “let me just see a little ass.” 

You blink, stunned by his barter. You shake your head. “Not for a three million.” 

“Ugh, fine. You’re so damn stubborn. I like it but I also hate it,” he sighs. “Two,” he pulls his hand free and offers it. You shake it with a triumphant smirk. “Let’s seal that the right way.” 

He tightens his hold on you as he grabs the back of your head and bends to smother you with a bristly kiss. You squeak before you can pull away. You scoff at him and yank your hand free to wipe your lips. 

“It’s gonna happen, Pixie,” he grins. “Trust.” 

[andromeddog]

Oooo jumping off the previous anon ask, do you have any websites/books that good for reference that you’d recommend?? Or is a simple Google search/going from there good enough to start with

I’ve always been interested in uniforms n stuff but idk where/how to actually FIND info (especially for accuracy) but idk if Wikipedia/Google is the best for that lol

i’ve talked about this (here) and (here) before, but i will elaborate a bit more (a lot more) for you!

again my first response is to ask, what kind of uniform are u looking for? bc there’s just more info on some types than others. like, ww2 american paratroopers? sooo so so much stuff out there, maybe bc there was a wildly successful miniseries that is often listed as one of the best tv shows ever made and it mythologized the paratroopers and now everyone has a big ol boner for them and their uniforms and you can’t got two searches deep without tripping over those jump boots (said w all the love in my heart). but that being said, sometimes just a google search is enough!

this is where being familiar w each of the components of the uniform comes in handy. like oh damn i need ref of that one specific small pouch the marines have on their guns, what was that called?? oh duh it’s a carbine butt stock pouch, sometimes they wore it on their belt, i can just google that and get the exact result i want

buutttttt sometimes the online sources/pics u get are undated/unlabeled, and you have to piece together what ur looking at based on ur own knowledge of a uniform. this is especially true the older you go, and ive run into this issue with ww1 stormtrooper uniforms specifically, where you don’t have an exact date and u have to be like “welllllll i can’t be 100% sure if this is from early or late war, if this is german or austrian, but it’s close enough to what i need and i can’t find any other source that even comes close and ive spent four hours looking so im going to use this” and then you get someone in ur dms like “well actually 🧐 they didn’t wear those specific suspenders/have that patch on their uniforms/use that limited issue pouch in this theater” and then you feel kind of silly. but it’s like damn dude i spent hours looking for ref and found the only like five jpegs still remaining of this uniform pls cut me some slack. ig this is just me saying that i dont get it right all the time and inevitably there will be someone out there who has a better grasp on it and will clock your tiny error from 200 yards

to stop my pointless rambling and actually get to your question, google is a pretty good place to start but u gotta know what to be looking for. wikipedia can b helpful for kind of an intro/getting names of items. pinterest is a big one for me, i mostly like that you can save pics and organize them. i’d also check out reenactment websites/forums; those guys are dedicated to being 100% accurate and can also provide some good action shots. youtube is also a resource that i forget exists haha. following artists who are into that kind of shit, taking notes from the uniforms they draw (careful w this one, as i said earlier even ppl who draw uniforms a lot still mess up occasionally). honestly any big website is bound to have some military history enjoyers and so u can do a general search and see what comes up, that can help point to users/a community that will often have their own sources/discussions that can be helpful. ive said it before but watching movies/shows about the specific era ur looking for is great, you can see how a uniform sits and moves with a person 👍

also books! there isn’t a single catch all book for uniforms, again (again) it’s all by era/country you’re looking for. ebay is GREAT for finding super specific books on topics only you and five other people care about. sometime u can get lucky at an old used book store but that’s a real gamble and only happens veryyyyyy rarely hahah

i always use these sorts of references in tandem and double check to be sure, i swear i have like 12 tabs open and two books open per drawing just so i can get everything as close to accurate as i can. but like ive said im kind of obsessive about details (negative) and can’t be chill about anything ever. what a super cool and very practical skill set that makes me very popular amongst my peers and interests everyone once i have two beers and won’t shut up about it

ending this with my standard “did any of this make sense?” i’m going to turn on my computer now and spend the next eight hours staring at reference pics and drawing my silly little war boys have a great day everyoneeeeeeeee

[bobacupcake]

WAIT ROB YOU PLAY OUTER WILDS

yes absolutely one of my favorite games of all time that i cant tell anything to anyone about because the less you know going into it the better

[fading-event-608]

1000 NOTES IN THE LAST DAY GOT FALASTIN AROUND 130$. THAT'S 13 FUCKING CENTS PER REBLOG.

I CAN'T RELAX FOR ONE FUCKING DAY. EVERY TIME I THINK I CAN TAKE A BREAK IT BITES ME IN THE ASS BECAUSE WHAT? IF I DON'T SCREAM AT TUMBLR USERS FOR 8 FUCKING HOURS SHE GETS NO FUCKING DONATIONS. IF I DON'T MAKE NEW POSTS EVERY TWO FUCKING DAYS WE GET THIS BULLSHIT.

OH ARE YOU TIRED OF SEEING THE SAME POST? YOU DON'T WANT TO REBLOG THE SAME BASE?

NEITHER ME OR FALASTIN ARE WRITERS OF YOUR BLAND WATERY SHOWS OR FANFICS, NOR ME OR HER SHOULD BE FUCKING REQUIRED TO SUPPLY YOU WITH A NEW GRUEL EVERY DAY TO GET DONATIONS.

WE ARE NOT NEWS ANCHORS OR FUCKING HISTORIANS, AND YET THE ONLY TIME WHEN SHE'S NOT FOCUSING ON HER FAMILY SHE GETS SOME ATTENTION FROM BIG BLOGS. ARE HER OTHER POSTS NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU? PLEASE TELL ME, BECAUSE ALL OF YOU HAVE DMS AND/OR ASKS CLOSED.

SHE GOT ANOTHER MARTYR IN HER FAMILY JUST 4 DAYS AGO, SHE RIPPED HER HEART OUT FOR YOU ALL TO SEE AND SHARED HER GRIEF IN THE OPEN, AND WHAT IT GOT HER? 1,5K$? IS IT HOW MUCH HER COUSIN WAS WORTH IN YOUR EYES?

FALASTIN DIDN'T CATCH A BREAK FOR A FUCKING YEAR NOW, AND YET SHE STILL WRITES HERE, IN ENGLISH (!!!), ON THIS FUCKING PLATFORM WHERE SHE GETS MESSAGES FROM SCAMMERS, ZIONISTS AND CREEPS. SHE DOES THAT BECAUSE THERE ARE 24 FUCKING PEOPLE DEPENDING ON HER IN GAZA AND SHE CAN'T GIVE UP.

I DON'T GIVE A FUCK IF YOU SAW THIS POST TEN MILLION TIMES, BOOST AND FUCKING DONATE. DO THAT EVERY FUCKING TIME YOU SEE ANOTHER FUNDRAISER POST, THE FIRST TIME YOU SEE IT, THE SECOND, THE THIRD, AND EVERY FUCKING TIME AFTER THAT.

YES SHE WAS VETTED, SEVERAL TIMES:

#282 IN VETTED GAZA EVACUATION FUNDRAISER LIST [HERE], #957 IN BUTTERFLY EFFECT PROJECT [HERE]

YOU CAN LOOK AT HER ACCOUNT [HERE]

MORE THAN 10$ DONATED CAN GET YOU A COMMISSION FROM ME IF YOU DM THE PROOF TO ME. MY ART BLOG WAS TERMINATED ALMOST TWO WEEKS AGO AND IT'S STILL NOT RESOLVED SO PLEASE DM WITH QUESTIONS.

GO FUCKING DONATE AND CHECK THE RATES BEFORE YOU DO:

10$ = 103 SEK

25$ = 259 SEK

50$ = 518 SEK

100$ = 1,036 SEK

[coryndoll]

waking up to you

au!rafe cameron x reader

— in which you wake up in a strange alternate reality that just so happens to be the outer banks universe, and to your disbelief, you’re suddenly in a relationship with the shows most unlikely character, rafe cameron.

warnings: safe!!

authors note: thank u sm for the support lately on this !! if u still arent part of the tag list, feel free to let me know thru replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3

previous next

you pull into the lot, the crunch of gravel beneath the truck’s tires the only sound you hear as you shift the car into park. so far, so good, you think, shutting off the engine and tossing your keys into your lap.

the ride here had been surprisingly smooth, considering you’re driving a truck you’ve never touched before in a world that feels completely foreign. a quick glance at google maps had helped you navigate.

taking a deep breath, you step out of the truck, slamming the door shut behind you and instantly squinting as the midday sun catches your eyes. you glance up at the sign outside the wreck, the familiar wooden board making your heart race a little faster.

you’re not ready, but you push forward anyway. with the keys still clutched in your hand, you head toward the restaurant, your stomach in knots.

as you approach the entrance, you hesitate, lingering behind the door even though most of the place is made of glass. you can already see customers inside, people chatting and eating, and in the middle of it all—the pogues.

your heart lurches in your chest. they’re here. jj, pope, john b, and kiara. they’re all here. the sight of them—alive, real, in the flesh—makes your head spin.

with a deep breath, you pull the door open and step inside, trying to smooth down your clothes as you cautiously approach the group. kiara is the first to spot you, standing by the table while the boys sit, looking like she’s mid-shift. her eyes widen when she sees you, and she immediately puts her tray down on the table, practically rushing over to you.

“y/n, holy f—” she breathes, throwing her arms around you in a tight hug. you freeze for a second, still processing the fact that kiara carrera is hugging you like you’ve been friends for years, but you quickly wrap your arms around her in return.

“where have you been?” she asks, pulling back to look at you with concern.

you’re confused but manage a small smile. “uh . . . here and there.”

before kiara can respond, john b and pope stand up from their seats, walking over to join the reunion. their faces are serious, concerned, and the energy shifts from relief to something heavier. they hug you, one after the other—john b slapping you on the back, pope squeezing your shoulder.

“you’ve been m.i.a. for weeks,” kiara says, her tone still filled with worry. you can only nod, your mind racing. m.i.a.? weeks? what has this universe’s version of you been up to?

john b’s half-joking tone cuts through the tension. “no, no, yeah, is rafe keeping you hostage or something?” he asks with joking-concern, though there’s a sharpness in his eyes that tells you he’s not entirely kidding.

you force a laugh, not sure how to answer. “i’ve just been busy. i guess.”

but the questions don’t stop. “you never spend time with us anymore,” pope adds, his voice a little quieter but still pointed. “not even a ‘hi’.”

john b nods, quickly jumping in. “yeah, like the other day—i saw you driving, and you just . . . you looked stressed. didn’t even wave.”

you blink, trying to process their words, but your gaze drifts toward jj, who’s been quiet this whole time, standing behind the others, just watching you. he’s risen out of his seat, his hands resting on the back of the chair, his expression unreadable.

your eyes lock onto his, and there’s an awkward silence that stretches between you two as the others continue to speak, their words starting to blur in your head.

you have no idea what you’re supposed to say, no clue how to answer their questions, because you have no idea what kind of life this you has been living.

kiara glances around, ensuring that the boys are momentarily distracted, before she pulls you aside, her expression turning serious. “hey, can we talk for a second?” she asks, lowering her voice as if to guard a secret. you nod.

as you step away from the lively chatter of the pogues, kiara leans in closer, her brow furrowing slightly. “are you and jj okay?” she asks, her tone heavy with concern. you blink, momentarily stunned by the question.

are you two not? your mind races to comprehend what’s happening. what did you miss?

kiara’s expression softens, but you can see the confusion flickering in her eyes. she hesitates for a moment, gauging your reaction. before you can press her for clarification, you glance back toward the boys. jj is striding over, his expression a mix of determination and something more vulnerable that you can’t quite place. relief floods through you; he’ll help you make sense of this chaos.

as he approaches, he suddenly envelops you in a tight embrace, pulling you into him as if the air itself is a precious commodity. the warmth of his body against yours is overwhelming, and you find yourself caught off guard by the intensity of the hug.

“you can’t just scare me like that,” he mutters into your hair, his voice low and slightly strained. you pull back slightly to look into his eyes, the concern etched across his features makes your heart ache.

“i’m sorry,” you finally manage to say, still grappling with the weight of their worry. “i didn’t mean to . . . whatever i did.”

jj’s frown deepens as he holds your shoulders, grounding you. “it’s okay. we’ve all been worried about you,” he admits, his tone sincere, almost tender. “you just . . . disappeared.”

“disappeared?” you echo, the word hanging heavy in the air.

kiara watches from a distance, her expression shifting from relief to concern as she observes the exchange between you and jj. “i’ll talk to you later,” she whispers, stepping back to rejoin the boys.

“are you good?” jj asks again, his eyes searching yours for the truth.

you nod, but inside, uncertainty churns. “i think so,” you reply, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “just been a rough couple of . . . hours. sorry.”

the thought that your friends have been worried about you, that they felt your absence acutely, makes you feel a strange blend of gratitude and guilt.

you slip into an empty seat at the table, feeling the weight of their eyes on you, though they’re not staring outright—just that subtle, expectant energy from people who know you, who expect you to slip into conversation naturally.

the pogues keep talking, voices overlapping, john b saying something about a boat, pope chiming in about something kiara did the other night. you try to follow, but the tension in your chest grows tighter with each passing second.

you pull your phone out of your pocket, more as a distraction than anything else, but as soon as you unlock it, you see a series of texts from rafe lighting up the screen.

‘ where are u ’

‘ ? ’

‘ y/n ’

a jolt of nerves shoots through you. you hesitate, glancing around the table before typing a quick, evasive reply: ‘ grabbing something to eat ’ and then you lock the phone, slipping it back into your pocket as if shutting it off will somehow keep rafe from reaching through the screen and dragging you back to him.

you’re about to breathe a sigh of relief when you notice kiara watching you. her brow is slightly furrowed, concern clearly etched into her expression. she can sense something’s off—you’re not fooling anyone.

quietly, she reaches across the table, her fingers brushing yours as she places her hand on top of yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

you glance at her, surprised by the small gesture. her eyes search yours, asking a question she doesn’t need to voice. you manage a small, grateful nod in response.

she doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t let go either. she just holds your hand, her quiet way of telling you that she’s here, that whatever’s going on with you, she’s got your back. it makes your chest feel tight in a different way now—a kind of bittersweet ache.

there’s something comforting about her kindness, about how she’s looking out for you even when you barely know how to look out for yourself in this universe.

the boys keep talking, the hum of their conversation flowing around you, but you’re only half-listening. you’re too busy wondering how long you can keep pretending, how long before someone calls you out, or worse—how long before rafe shows up, expecting you to be the girl he knows, the one you’re clearly not.

you give kiara’s hand a gentle squeeze back, silently thanking her. whatever this universe’s y/n had with these people, it was clearly something worth holding onto. now, you just have to figure out how to live up to it.

you drive back to the camerons’ house, the road blurring a little as your thoughts swirl with everything that happened at the wreck. the pogues, the way they looked at you, kiara’s hand holding yours . . . it was overwhelming.

and then rafe’s texts—those three small messages that sent a ripple of anxiety through your chest.

you pull up to the house and notice an extra car parked outside, one you didn’t see earlier. you assume it must be rafe’s. he’s home.

turning off the engine, you sit in the car for a second longer than you need to, just staring at the house. it’s quiet, as it always seems to be. you sigh, grabbing your phone and sliding out of the truck. your steps are slow, calculated, as you walk toward the nearest door that leads inside, keys jingling softly in your hand.

you let yourself in, the familiar stillness of the cameron estate washing over you. you half expect to hear rafe’s voice, or even the sound of something from the kitchen, but there’s nothing.

your shoes make soft thuds against the hardwood as you approach the staircase, heading upstairs, but you’re stopped halfway up by movement out of the corner of your eye.

someone is pacing in the hallway—going back and forth between one of the rooms and the bathroom.

you freeze, instincts kicking in as you press yourself slightly against the railing, watching the figure move. it takes a second for your eyes to adjust to the dim light filtering through the hall, but when they do, you realize it’s a girl.

she’s rushing, flustered, like she’s trying to get ready for something or find something important.

you squint, trying to get a better look. and then it hits you. sarah, rafe’s sister.

your mind stalls for a second, trying to piece this together. sarah’s here? your confusion deepens as you process what you're seeing.

in the show, sarah had practically sworn off coming home because of rafe, too afraid or too angry to set foot in this house. but now, here she is, pacing around like she never left.

you blink, trying to make sense of it all. things really are different here, you think, the realization sinking in deeper. this isn’t the world you knew from the show. people are different. timelines are different. maybe even rafe is different.

“sarah?” your voice comes out a little softer than you intend, tinged with concern. sarah freezes in her tracks, realizing she’s not alone. she turns toward the sound of your voice, her eyes scanning the hallway until they land on you, just now reaching the top of the stairs.

“oh! y/n. i didn’t even . . even hear you come in,” sarah says, moving back into the bathroom, fiddling with an earring that looks like it’s giving her trouble.

you hesitate for a moment, glancing around cautiously, tiptoeing past the open doors, half expecting rafe to be lurking somewhere. you check every shadow, every open space, feeling that knot of unease tightening in your chest. like he could appear at any second. and for some reason, it scares you more than it should.

“yeah, you know me! quiet as a . . .” your voice trails off when sarah leaves the bathroom again, now heading back into her room.

your steps quicken, and you catch up to her, pausing at the doorway as she moves around, her pace hurried. something about it feels off.

“hey, what are you doing?” you ask, more out of curiosity, but also trying to make sense of what you’re seeing.

sarah barely looks up, focused on adjusting her earring, her back still turned to you. “i’ve got to head out. there’s this thing i promised kie i’d go to, but of course! i’m running late.”

the casual tone throws you off, like this is just another ordinary day. but your mind races, trying to keep up. kie?

the door downstairs clicks open, and you hear the familiar jangle of keys hitting the table near the entrance. sarah pauses for a moment, but only to check her reflection, humming softly to herself. the sound of rafe’s voice calling out from below makes you stiffen.

“y/n?”

sarah, oblivious, brushes past you, grabbing her phone as she’s ready to head out.

you reach for her instinctively, fingers grazing her arm, wanting her to stay, to keep her here just a little longer, but it’s no use. she pulls away easily, humming her tune as she heads downstairs.

your hand lingers in the air for a second before it falls back to your side, and you clench your fists tight, feeling the cold bite of unease creeping up your spine.

you’re left alone in the hallway, breath caught in your throat, and you can hear rafe jogging up the stairs—too fast for you to get your bearings, too quick for you to decide on what the hell to do next. your eyes dart around, searching for a place to hide or something to distract yourself with, but it’s too late.

he nudges sarah playfully as he passes her, like this is routine, and before you can even process it, rafe’s standing in front of you, catching you off guard with that easy smirk of his.

he’s amused. you can tell. you must look ridiculous leaning against the doorframe like that, trying way too hard to appear nonchalant.

his gaze flickers over you, and for a second, you think he’s going to laugh, but instead, he closes the gap between you, his hand slipping easily around your waist. the kiss he presses to your forehead is casual, familiar.

“hey,” he murmurs against your skin before pulling back and slipping into his room, leaving you standing there in your awkward daze.

you gnaw on your bottom lip as you step into the room after him.

rafe settles into his chair with a heavy sigh, leaning back and rubbing at his temples, clearly worn out. his fingers press into his skin, trying to relieve some of the tension, and you can’t help but watch him for a moment. he looks like he’s been through it.

you move slowly toward the bed, leaning back against the edge, trying to steady your breath and ease the weird knot in your stomach. rafe is quiet for a bit, eyes closed, before he speaks up, his voice low, almost distracted.

“ran into my dad earlier.”

you stay quiet, just nodding, letting him talk. you’re not sure how you’re supposed to respond to that, especially with how vague that even is. he’s still rubbing at his temples, and then he adds, “hey, has sarah talked to you at all about . . .”

you arch a brow, confused. “about what?”

rafe pauses, his eyes flicking over to you, but when he realizes you have no idea what he’s talking about, he just shakes his head, muttering under his breath, “nothing.”

why is everyone being so secretive today? it’s infuriating.

there’s a beat of silence before he changes the subject, dropping his hand from his face and leaning forward a bit, looking at you more closely. “where were you earlier? you said you were getting somethin’ to eat? bring me anything?”

you feel your pulse quicken, scrambling for a lie that’ll stick. “oh, yeah, i, uh, went to this place nearby—what was it called?” you stall for a second before pulling a name that you think you remember seeing on the way to the wreck. “waterman’s cafe. but there was this huge line, and they were backed up on orders, so . . . i just ended up getting something quick for myself.”

you give a half-hearted shrug, trying to sell it. “didn’t think i’d be there for that long, so . . . sorry, didn’t bring you anything.”

rafe just nods, looking a little disappointed but too tired to really care. “yeah, s’all good. don’t worry about it.”

he leans back again, rubbing his temples, and the room falls quiet. you can feel the weight of everything—how out of place you are, how close you are to slipping up.

your phone buzzes softly in your pocket, cutting through the quiet, and you pull it out to check. it's a text from kie.

‘ miss u already. why didn’t u come back with sarah? 3 of us together again ’

it makes you smile for a second, but before you can dwell on it, rafe rubs the back of his neck and gets up from his chair. “you ready to go?”

your smile fades as you blink at him, caught off guard. “what?” the question slips out before you can stop it. go where?

rafe furrows his brows, clearly confused. “why are you forgetting so much today? we’re going to the . . .” he trails off, waving a hand in the air like it’s obvious, “you told me yesterday that you wanted me to take you shopping for midsummers. said you wanted a new dress, shoes, whatever.”

you feel your breath catch for a second. midsummers. you remember that from the show, where all the kooks in the outer banks dressed up in fancy attire—the girls in dresses, the guys in suits and ties.

you play along, nodding slowly, but you feel yourself processing the idea of shopping with rafe, and—admittedly—a part of you feels a little intrigued by it.

you get to spend rafe’s money.

your lips twitch up into a slight smirk as you entertain the thought. is this what having a sugar daddy feels like? you snicker to yourself at the ridiculousness of the idea.

“right, yeah, shopping,” you say, standing up and smoothing your hands over your shorts, trying to act casual. “totally didn’t forget, let’s go.”

rafe, unaware of the internal chaos you’re experiencing, watches you for a second before shaking his head with a soft chuckle. “you’ve been forgetful as hell lately,” he mutters, checking his pockets to make sure he has what he needs. “you seriously need to get out of your head.”

you laugh, unsure whether he’s being serious or just teasing you. “yeah, i guess i’ve just been . . . distracted.”

“distracted, huh?” rafe glances at you again, one eyebrow raised, almost like he’s questioning you but decides to let it go. “let’s go then. the sooner we get there, the sooner we can get outta there.”

he’s clearly not thrilled about going, but it seems like he’s doing it for you—or, well, for the version of you that apparently wanted this yesterday.

as you head downstairs, his hand brushes yours, guiding you toward the front door. before you leave, though, he glances back at you, his voice lower. “oh, by the way, my dad said your parents are visiting, like, ‘rica right now.”

your feet stop abruptly on the stairs. rica? your parents . . . are in costa rica?

rafe’s voice is casual, but the words hit you like a truck.

for a second, your entire body freezes, your hand gripping the wooden railing a little too tightly. your parents—your parents—are in costa rica right now. it’s like your mind can’t fully grasp the concept.

your parents you grew up with, always talking wistfully about the places they’d visit one day, always saying, “when we have time, when we save enough, we’ll go.”

it’s the sort of thing you used to talk about over dinner when you were younger, your mom flipping through travel magazines, your dad rambling about the rainforest and wildlife they’d visit.

those conversations always ended with a resigned sigh, your mom closing the magazine, saying, “maybe someday.”

but this version of your parents? they’re not stuck in ‘maybe someday.’ they’re in costa riva, living the life they always wanted.

you swallow hard, your throat tightening with the wave of emotion that suddenly crashes over you. you blink rapidly, trying to force away the tears that well up behind your eyes. you can’t just break down. not in front of rafe.

on one hand, you’re genuinely happy for them, knowing that their dream finally came true in this version of your life. but on the other hand, it’s a brutal reminder that your parents, the ones you grew up with in the world you know outside of this, never got that chance. they never made it past those conversations.

rafe, oblivious to you, doesn’t seem to notice the full weight of what he’s just told you. he starts down the rest of the stairs, but you remain stuck on the middle step, your hand still gripping the banister. you take a shaky breath, glancing down at your feet, willing the lump in your throat to go away.

“y/n?” rafe turns back when he notices you haven’t moved. his brows knit together, concern briefly flashing in his eyes. “you alright?”

“mhm,” you hum, and you clear your throat quickly, forcing a tight smile onto your face. “yeah, i’m fine.” you nod, though it feels like you’re lying to yourself more than to him. “i just . . . didn’t know they were there.”

he shrugs like it’s no big deal. “yeah, apparently they’ve been there for a while. you should probably call them tonight or something. i think they miss you.”

that comment hits you like another punch to the gut. they miss you? why is rafe the one telling you this, and not your own parents? unless they have? but . . .

there’s just something you’re not getting. something’s missing. it’s like everyone else—your parents, the pogues, even rafe—knows something you don’t. and the longer you stay in this world, the more you realize that the other version of you, the y/n who actually belongs here, has been avoiding people. ghosting them.

you take a step down, feeling like you’re moving through quicksand, but you try to pull herself together.

rafe watches you carefully, sensing something is off but not fully understanding it. he rubs the back of his neck and takes a few steps toward the door. “c’mon.”

you nod, following him out the door.

@v2los @cosmixstar @meeuhsworld @httpsdrewstarkey @lovdrew @lilithblackkk @rovckwells @cherrylooney @namelesslosers @cocolovey @rafeyswrd @odairtrqsh @vivian-555 @lunaleah @smol-coffee-addict @behindviolettwrites @avngrssckr @stonerroadbull

[transmutationisms]

My friend Mohammed @mohdiwais still needs help!

Mohammed and his family live in Gaza, where they're struggling every day to find food, clean water, and safe shelter. One of his sisters has been shot and her recovery is slow because the family can't get the medicine she needs; another family member has been sickened by one of the epidemic diseases proliferating in the unsafe conditions that Palestinian refugees are forced to endure.

Since their house was bombed, Mohammed has lost 10 family members, and he's asking for our help so he doesn't have to lose anyone else.

Altogether, he's fundraising for 27 people: himself, his nine siblings, and their children, his beloved nieces and nephews. Everyday goods have skyrocketed in price in Gaza, and the family need these donations urgently to survive. They've already been displaced half a dozen times, and food, water, and medicine get more expensive every day.

Mohammed and I are in contact daily, connection issues permitting, and there are more links to his social media profiles (active and extant for years prior to October 7) in my posts and @/khanger's posts. His GoFundMe campaign has also been shared by @/90-ghost. You can DM me if you have any other questions, but he is a personal friend and I fully trust him and his campaign.

I know how many people are suffering right now. It would mean a lot to both Mohammed and me if you can spare a donation, and help spread the word by sharing this post. As he puts it, "This is not a war between one party and the other. This is a war for survival."

kr70,051 SEK / kr500,000 SEK

**If you're used to USD and this goal appears scary high to you, please note that this is about $6,654 USD out of $47,499 USD. This is an attainable goal, but he needs our help to get there!

[ashtxrie]

due 11:59 pm

— alternatively, enhypen hyungs as your typical high school crush!

PAIR. high school! enhypen hyungs x gn!reader (rest under cut) GENRE. fluff, high school au, bullet points WORD COUNT. 1.8k total MAKNAE LINE VER.

이희승 — lee heeseung

varsity jackets, notes in lockers, late night calls, secret pining, basketball games

secretly (not so secretly) an attention seeker

he's on the varsity basketball team, so by law you're hyping him up (disguised as hyping up the whole team) before the game and now he has to win!!! (plus he made a bet with jay about the team's winning streak)

i'd think that you two are closer than acquaintances but don't know each other well enough to be close friends

you guys probably met through mutual friends groups that kind of merged????

it was junior year when he signed up for every ap class you took just to look at your face more often.

horrible move for his gpa, amazing move for his mental well-being

... that was, until his mental well-being was compromised again because his ap calc grades were... not sexy

"help like actually i don't think my coach will let me stay on the team if i fail another quiz like that 0.05% grade decrease might be the end of my career"

you start tutoring him not because you're super confident about your calc skills, but because 1) you're better than him at least 😂and 2) it's a free excuse to hang out with him after school

you guys have your first tutoring sessions over discord vc btw like LOSERS

"can you hear me okay"

"..."

"dude you're muted"

IT WAS BAD

he's got the popular guy on the outside, an absolute loser on the inside persona

like he's lowkey a romantically awkward dude

but once he got to know you a bit more from your 1 on 1 time (still on discord.) you guys got really close!

would talk shit together right before basketball matches too

"[name] make sure to start booing when the other team shows up because unfortunately i think they're actually really good"

you're really passionate about how the other schools have horrible players (regardless of stats) and love to narrate a play-by-play with heeseung after the match is over

he finally confessed to you after a whole business year (jake and riki were about to dox their private dms by then)

you guys are like those stereotypical high school movie it couples, where it seems like two gorgeous popular people fell in love

they don't need to know he's just a hopeless romantic!!

박종성 — park jongseong

blue ink, keyboard clicks, shared laughs, handwritten notes, guitar strings

you thought he was pretty intimidating at first ngl

first day of school and he has a whole pre-established friend group, somehow found a table to sit at, has an effortless air going for him

you were paired up with him for a group project in history and

god help this man is SO straightforward and to the point

"ok so i'll do this part and you can do those parts. let me know if you have questions."

insert working in SILENCE for the next hour and a half

at least you two got your work done though!

but then, as an icebreaker in the last ten minutes of class you asked:

"oh... so, uh, do you ever wonder how liquid soap was invented?"

girl wtf!

your internal thought processing was like ??? damn who said that??? before you realized it was YOU

fortunately for you, jay was not completely weirded out!

he even looked a bit interested!

VERY interested, actually!

and that's how he began google searching like crazy, pulling up a million wikipedia articles and scouring the internet to answer your question

because how did you know he was curious about that too!

he really went from 0 to 100 and wdym you thought this man was cold and stoic

he became a d1 yapper for a solid ten minutes, up until the second the bell rang

he was even subconsciously walking with you to your lunch spot, STILL talking about william sheppard and that day in 1865

when he stops and finally realizes where he is, he actually blinks a bit before asking if you had joined any lunchtime clubs

and you were like oh yeah!! i'm in guitar club

he looked at you with the biggest heart eyes at that tbh

HE WAS IN LOVE

wdym your interests were perfectly aligned???? was he in a soulmates au

fast forward three months, and he seriously thinks he's found The One

confesses to you after playing guitar!! and he wrote a handwritten letter too with a cheeky reference to that one liquid soap conversation that started it all

you never feel like you're being "too weird" when you're with him and you two can always be your candid goofy selves with each other :))

심재윤 — sim jaeyun

muji pens, fond eye rolls, sharing books, lunch dates, lattes, TI-84s

you already saw this one coming

physics lover jake, but you've deemed physics your number one opp

HOW can this man go "i love this subject so much omg" after you've just gotten your third 72% in a row?!

it's not like you weren't smart (the class average was a 55)

and it's not like you hated the subject itself

okay maybe you did

but you just thought there were so many other alternatives other than physics to fawn over as a favorite subject. like. ANY other subject

one day, you're seated next to jake in calc and he just turns to you and starts talking out of NOWHERE

he’s like wow isn’t this so interesting? calc is like a hobby of mine!!

and you’re like boy stfu??? i’m literally struggling how is this your pastime 

poor guy just wanted to make small talk and impress you with stuff he thought you were interested in… which is academics 

fast forward to that afternoon in history though, and tests are passed back

you're a certified humanities girl, so you got an 100!!! academic weapon

jake, however..... is kind of an academic shield in this case

on the midterm, he had written that the victorian era ended in 1592, and filled in everything else he didn't know with "mansa musa" because it was the only thing he retained from ap world

maybe you genuinely felt really bad for hating on him when he had struggles of his own, or maybe you felt really nice that day, or maybe you were secretly hoping to get to know him more....

either way, you don't know what came over you when you tapped on his shoulder

you missed how his eyes widened a bit when he turned around, and how he looked genuinely shocked that you were talking to him in an initiated conversation! maybe his rizz was working! (maybe it was)

"there's a method that i use to memorize terms that i could teach you, if you want"

IF HE WANTS??? he would've literally jumped with joy if the paper in front of him wasn't such a nuclear bomb to his gradebook

so that's how you suddenly started spending all your lunches sitting with jake at an empty table together

he tutors you back for physics and math too, so it's fair

and DAMN it works

suddenly you two are all-rounder academic weapons???? he has your back for STEM, you have his back for humanities

like that's literally a power couple right there.

only one problem.

you aren't a couple!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

you confess to him after one of your study sessions, by plotting a heart on the desmos graphing calculator using the equations that he taught you

it was super cute!!

he was literally the proudest and happiest man alive he teared up a bit (he would never admit it though)

and NOW you guys are the campus power couple

“babe look at this!” and he's waving at you with his 100 on the history final

he actually started jumping and hugging you (embarrassingly) when you found out you got a 94% average in physics at the end of the semester, giving you an A in the class

you were so shocked when you opened your report card that you didn't even register it until you heard jake go "YOOO OH MY GOD BABE THAT'S INSANE I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT YESSS I'M SO PROUD OF YOU"

well maybe thanks to jake the subject isn't so bad now!

박성훈 — park sunghoon

big school, comfortable silence, convenience stores, headphones, lingering gazes

the "everything kinda sucks here, except you" type of plot

sunghoon tries to stay out of the spotlight, keeping to himself with his head down, hood up, and headphones on

you're not really sure when you met him first actually, but you're both the same type of people where you're just going through the motions

you intrigued him though-- maybe it was the slightly melancholic look in your eyes? or maybe it was the way you purse your lips when you find a particularly hard question on the worksheets in class

either way, he finds himself wanting to get to know you more

funnily enough, he sees you at the convenience store after school as he walks home, and his feet start walking him in your direction

you see him first, and give him a smile and a little wave-- and sunghoon waves back without even thinking about it

that was the entire interaction that day, but sunghoon keeps replaying that part when you smiled and waved at him

why can't he stop thinking about it?

some things definitely changed too-- you start saying hi to him in the hallways at school, you turn to sunghoon to ask questions in class, and you seem to brighten up whenever you see him

you guys start to have conversations, starting with simple small talk, then moving to longer, more random dialogue where you both just say whatever comes to mind

the two of you become so close that you decide to walk to and from school together, since you found out that you only live a couple blocks away

sunghoon likes to place his headphones over your ears to show you new songs every morning, and you like to share earbuds in the afternoon to walk home together

he also starts to slip little notes about his day in your backpack before you go your separate ways in the neighborhood, signing off with a little p.s. to meet him at the park before sunset

it takes him SO long to muster up the courage to confess to you because he keeps thinking you'd say no

but when he finally does, all his fears melt away because you looked at him in such a soft way

he's actually reminded of why he fell for you in the first place

because with you, there’s no judgment from the outside world in the little bubble that you’ve created with him

it's just the two of you against the world <3

TAGLIST : @star-sim @boyfiejay @jlheon @jwsdoll @dimplewonie @suneng @en-gelic

[ode2cheol]

WAYS WE CAN HELP PALESTINE:

as of 9am today, 8131 palestinians were killed, 20438 are injured and 1.4 million have been displaced. it’s important for all of us to help palestine in as many ways as we can.

i also cannot stress how much just spreading awareness in general can help. staying silent because of your discomfort is not an excuse to sit by while a genocide takes place. when we learn about these events in history we often think “how was this allowed to happen?” but that’s exactly what’s happening now and it’s our responsibility to not sit by and let an entire country be wiped out. i will continue adding more ways to help to this post and i’d really appreciate it if anyone can spread this as much as possible.

it’s important to get educated on everything going on in palestine right now, here are some sources that could help!

decolonize palestine - made by two palestinians, answers a lot of questions regarding everything right now (including debunking a lot of myths from biased news stations) and provides a lot of historical context.

list of documentaries to watch if you want to gain further knowledge

list of accounts to follow on twitter that can also provide information

linktree with information

you can also donate to organisations! even if you can’t donate tons of money, you can help by spreading these links so others can also try to donate!

red crescent

PCRF

MAP

doctors w/o borders

palestinian social fund

palestinian in pain launch good

this website is free and uses ad revenue for donations, all you need to do is click it once daily!

some more places you can donate to and some more

boycotting will also help!! also some of the kpop idols we stan have brand deals with ones that support 🇮🇱 so please let’s not interact with their posts with those brands

list from BDS of companies to boycott

signing petitions!

write to representatives and demand they retract their support of 🇮🇱

ways to contact local governments about helping palestine

if you’re in the uk here’s a link to contact your local MP

change org ceasefire petition

Text "CEASEFIRE" to 51905 if you live in America. The link provided leads you to a page to sign and call for a ceasefire once the goal is met. They are so close to meeting its goal!!

here's a link that lets you send a letter directly to your state representatives

here are some threads that will also give you ways to help.

thread of things we can do to help palestine

HOW TO HELP PALESTINE!! resources and links to other threads on how to donate and spread awareness of what's happening in palestine currently!!! a thread 🧵

here’s what we know, and links to donate to help aid palestinians, a thread:

Here is a list of list of resources and people you can follow to educate yourself on what’s going on in Palestine RIGHT NOW🇵🇸

Ways US, Canada, and UK residents can reach out to their state representatives and MPs to call for ceasefire in Gaza:

if there are any more sources that you would like me to add pls send me an ask or dm me !!

[cry4mina]

Park Maintenance

(Jealous!Jihyo x reader)

Word Count: 6.8k Smut/A secret second thing/Smut Summary: Jihyo decides that she wants to leave you feral all day, it backfires. TW: THIS IS ABOUT FUCKING! Aggressive top jihyo, public sex, degrading, teasing, intentionally making someone jealous, there is theme park sex happening. Momo and Nayeon are present, more Momo than Nayeon. A/N: Happy 3 Months of Cry4Mina! I truly never thought it would be this much fun and I'm so grateful to all those who follow me and show support for me and my writing! <3 I guess the smut didn't really take me that long at all. Thank you to the human who wishes to remain anonymous for helping me name the fic and letting me rant about it. And also @myouicieloz for constantly keeping me sane while I write LMAOOOOO As always, DMs and Asks are open for feedback and requests! :)<3 love u mean it. drink water.

Strong arms wrap themselves around you, wiggling a little closer to your body with a few heavy restful breaths. Eyelashes graze across your neck, a few lazy kisses placed along your jaw and a soft “good morning, baby” lightly draws you out of your dreams. 

You stretch, shaking off some of the stiffness of drowsiness before turning to your side, nuzzling into Jihyo further, putting your head against her chest, arms mirroring hers in the way of draping around her. 

“Still sleepy, my love?” her digits gently slide up the back of your neck, twirling your hair softly while placing a few languid pecks down your cheeks.

“Mhmm..” followed by a small sigh into her skin as you relax into her.

“We’ve got big plans today, remember? We are going to the amusement park with Nayeon and Momo, but…” her fingers trail down your bare back, lips brushing across yours.

“I’d love to start the day with those cute sleepy moans you make.” Her hand grips you tightly, locking you in place against her. 

Jihyo’s other hand finds its way between your legs. Ghosting her middle finger up and down your slit, her touch gets just a little more pressure with every pass of your clit. Sluggishly trying to match her pace for a moment before she stops moving her fingers all together.  

Eyes still half lidded from slumber, you arch your back and press your chest into hers like it’s muscle memory. She giggles into your mouth, teasing you more with each feeble lunge of your hips. 

Jihyo smirks, rolling you onto your back and sweeps one of her legs over you to straddle one of your thighs, fixing herself so she can grind down on you without removing her lips from yours. 

 A small whine slips from your throat and she slides her tongue into your mouth, taking the opportunity as it presents itself. She slides her pussy across your thigh, inciting a primal reaction from you. 

What started slow and sweet, rapidly gets hot and heavy. Your hands are navigating around her body, desperately trying to get her to finish what she started. 

Whining tandemly, the song of want emerges from the two of you tangled in each other, she breaks the kiss. Noses caressing each other while she studies the desperation seeping through your skin. 

“Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want.” whispered into your mouth. The tone is seductive and irresistible. 

Feeling her slick drip down your thigh, Jihyo was in a mood today and you were happy to take full advantage of that.  

The question burns in her eyes and you give her the silent permission she asks for. Breath shuddering as she lowers her mouth to your chest, leaving a tightly woven line of opened mouth kisses with a few soft bites sprinkled in between. 

She makes her way down your stomach and to your hips, biting your hip bones before trailing her tongue down to your inner thigh. 

“I want you- shit, please” almost voiceless in anticipation of what patterns her tongue is going to draw.

“You already have me, darling. Just tell me how you want me.” Another push of encouragement, she just wanted to hear you say what your body was craving from her. 

Jihyo places her elbows down on the sheets between your legs, holding her chin with one of her hands and returning to tease your slit once again, lazily gliding her finger up and down, patiently waiting for you.

“Fuuuuck- Hyo, please! I need to feel your tongue on me!” rocking your hips forward to get closer to her. 

“You looks so pretty when you’re desperate like this but…” She’s stone-faced…that can only mean one thing. 

“I don’t think that was good enough, honey. Maybe you should try again?” her eyebrow raises, patiently waiting for a reply. It wasn’t exactly rare to see her so…dominant, but it always kind of sprung itself on you, not that you were complaining. 

“Pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeee just fuck me, baby” wanting her was an understatement, you were absolutely spiraling down a cyclone of pure need. 

“Who?” gently slapping your clit one, two, three times and you jolt under every smack. 

“Sorry…-M-mommy fu- fuck, please!” whimpered between the splattering of your wetness

“Good girl.” a devious grin graces her face before she gets to work. 

Aggressively swiping her tongue up your pussy and gripping your thighs hard enough to leave marks just like you liked. The slurping sounds she made on you only makes you want it more. 

Jihyo is holding you down by the hips, persistently licking your clit before she slides 2 fingers inside you, not giving you any time to adjust. 

Without any shame about the ache sitting in your cunt, you thrust your hips up into her mouth and back down onto her fingers. She slows her licks down, fingers digging deep into you, building and building the knot that was going to burst at any moment. 

“Mommy…right fucking there, Please don’t stop! Don’t fucking stop!”  The thread about to break, you are about to come undone beneath her when you both hear a vibration coming from the nightstand. Jihyo’s getting a call from Momo.

“Please keep going, I’m so close… feels so good unghh…Mommy, pleaseeeee!” still one hundred percent in this, not giving a single shit about that phone call. 

A light bulb goes off in her head, you can see the sparkle in her eye as she keeps her fingers moving. She starts to suck on your clit harshly, pushing you even closer to the edge. . 

“Oh fuck, right fucking there- I’m gonna cum!” 

Jihyo completely removes herself from you, stands up and walks over to her phone, dragging her wet fingers up your torso as you writhe on the bed, completely infuriated that she would just stop. 

“WHY would you do that?! Baby, I was about to c-” 

“Hey Momo! …Yes, we are almost ready. Y/n just has to shower and then we will be on our way to come get you both!”

If looks could kill, Jihyo would be dead. You stand up, legs shaking from the tension built up that is now trapped in you and running through your limbs like an endless circuit. 

Storming off to the bathroom, you fling the door open in frustration. The smack of the doorknob on the wall startles your girlfriend who is still on the phone. 

“I'll text you when we are on the way, okay?…alright, I’ll see you soon…okay, bye Momo!” you can hear the grin that’s plastered on her face when she hangs up the phone. Giggling to herself, She’s so proud of herself for ruining your orgasm, she can’t even contain it. 

Meanwhile, your palms on the counter, looking up at yourself in the mirror to see you completely disheveled, shaking, and dawning a thin sheen of sweat laid onto your skin. Agony wreaks havoc inside you, unable to focus on much but the feeling of emptiness between your legs. 

Jihyo walks into view, leaning her shoulder and head against the door frame with that cheeky smile on her face, arms crossed to push her tits up, teasing you just that much more. 

“Baby, don’t be upset” sauntering over with a pout. 

She hugs you from behind, pressing her chest into your back and kissing your shoulder before resting her chin on it. Fingertips tracing down your sides, and over your thigh, grazing your heat with the lightest of touches. 

Bending over the quartz surface, you back up into her. Not allowing an inch of space between the two of you, wiggling your ass on her. 

“Please…I can’t be like this all day, baby. Don’t you want to taste me again?” A whiney attempt at trying to bait her into letting you cum.

“I promise that I won’t let you fall asleep tonight without cumming for me, okay?” lips brushing down your spine paired with a few tender pecks, finger still toying with your clit, and the fire pooling low in your stomach sits painfully heavy. Panting in response to the sensations. 

“Fuck, you’re so sexy when you’re like this” passionately murmured between the kisses and little love bites.  

“I love seeing how much you want me…” dipping her finger between your lips, gathering some of your essence on her fingers.

“Look how needy you are for me, baby” pressing her middle finger against her thumb before pulling them apart, revealing how drenched you were with a thick string of slick. 

Panting as you watch her and not breaking eye contact, she licks you off her fingers. Shuddering when she grabs your chin harshly, pressing her forehead against yours, and sliding her hand down your neck. Pecking your lips enough so you get a taste of yourself before winking at you and then stepping into the shower and turning it on. 

Frozen in pure lust, jaw on the floor, you just stand and take in the fact that you were going to have to go about your day like this AND she was intentionally making it worse…

“Oh, fuck you!” hissed out into the bathroom. 

A cackle echos off the tiles in the shower along with the water hitting the floor and draining. Peeking her head around the shower curtain to see you standing there half way dissociated, she smirks again thinking it’s just her leaving you orgasmless that’s making you this way. 

“You coming, darling? I made sure it was cold just to shock the horny out of you” ushering you into the shower, disregarding the state you were in. 

“Not until later, apparently!” frustration lingers in the space. You are already trying to create a plan on how you’d get revenge on her for this.  

—

The car ride was quiet, staying silent even when Jihyo would talk to you. Still pissed off and too wound up to even pretend like you weren’t second away from touching yourself in the passenger seat. Carelessly cross your legs and squeeze them together to get some kind of relief.

“No, baby!” Jihyo takes one of her hands off the wheel and swats your thighs to tell you to uncross them.

“None of that now, I want all of that for later, hm? Plus you haven’t said a word to me so why should I reward you?” The cocky smirk makes you want smack it off her face but your mind wanders to riding her mouth instead.  

Sure, this was a fun game to play, but edging the entire day after a ruined orgasm and cruel intentional teasing wasn’t something you wanted to do, at least today. 

“I hate you.” Arms crossed across your chest as you look out the passenger window daydreaming about satiating the painful ache inside of you.

“Honey, you know that's not true.” watching her in the reflection, scoffing at her as she starts pouting again. 

Unable to see her reach over, she grabs your hand, lacing her fingers with yours and kissing the top of your hand to try to soften you a little bit. You weren’t going to budge, tugging your hand out of hers, making sure she saw the annoyed look on your face before crossing your arms again. 

“You are so mad at me!” chuckling hard enough to startle you. 

“Baby, if you can be good for me today…” car stopping right in front of Nayeon and Momo’s shared apartment. 

Jihyo puts her car into park and turns to face you. It’s hard not to look into her big brown eyes, they were your weakness. She uses that to her advantage, another cute pout dawns her face. 

“Y/n…” whined out and she grabbed your hand again, resting her chin on your palm so you hold her face, an attempt to get you to break and crack a smile. It almost works.

“I’ll give you exactly what you want when we get home, okay baby? Just be a good girl for me today and I’ll-” 

Jihyo cut off by the sound of the back seat opening, Momo and Nayeon climb in and greet the two of you, prompting Jihyo to rotate and get ready to drive again. Nayeon offers a sweet happy “Hiiii!” and Momo seems to be dreading the day ahead. 

The ride to the park carries on as you’d expect, soft music plays through while the three of them chat about the park you were currently headed to and the rides they wanted to go on. Not really being a theme park person, you just sat and tried to plot how you were going to get revenge on Jihyo for this morning's antics. 

“What do you mean you don’t like rollercoasters?!” Jihyo’s voice carries loudly through the smaller space, pulling you out of the daydream you were having. 

“I just don’t like them…I only agreed because Nayeon said that she would take me to that new expensive restaurant tomorrow if I agreed to go today…” Momo groaned, definitely not happy to be in this situation. 

“Don’t worry, Momo” speaking up for the first time since they’ve gotten in the car. Jihyo was surprised when you chimed in, especially after being silent aside from the few words you have before they got into the car.

“I'll stay with you while these two run a muck, I’m not really in a roller coaster mood today, but let's do the other rides with them” 

“I thought this was something you wanted to do? I wanted to go on some roller coasters with you today.” side eyeing you from the driver seat, she seems a little pissed off when you realize the possibility here.

“I’ve already been on one today, thanks.” tension now apparent to the others present. 

“But you’ve got Nayeon to go on roller coasters with, baby! I can keep Momo company while you wait in the lines.” your grin is a little too wide for Jihyo’s liking and it very much seemed like you had an ulterior motive. 

Before you and Jihyo started dating, you mentioned to her one time about how you thought Momo was attractive and she never let you forget it. Always seemingly a little more defensive when you were around her. Jealous when Momo made you laugh or if you got too close to her. 

You didn’t really know each other too well but you knew that Jihyo would be watching you when you were close to her. That is exactly what you wanted. 

Momo and Nayeon can sense something is up but they can’t see the furrowing of her brows, and the way she is biting the inside of her cheeks to know for certain. She reaches over and grabs your hand, seemingly a little anxious that maybe she made you a little too mad this morning. Maybe she teased you a little too much.  

Squeezing her hand for a little for some reassurance, still not looking at her. You absolutely were still upset about that morning but it was all part of the game…the one she didn’t realize that she was still playing. Plan set in motion, you were going to get exactly what you wanted from her…and hopefully, sooner than anticipated. 

–

Walking into the park, you take the path to the right and start riding the rides in order. The roller coasters were usually towards the back of the park, so most of the ones up front were a yes for everyone. The lines weren’t too long and you were enjoying the distraction from your hopeless desire for Jihyo, when they were present.

Jihyo was extremely affectionate with you when the opportunity presented itself. Maybe she did actually feel bad for how this morning went… Holding you from behind, barely letting go of your hand, and pressing her lips against your shoulders and cheeks anytime she had the opening to. 

She wouldn’t let you leave her side for more than 5 minutes before searching for you, the clinginess is cute…you are almost sorry for what you were about to do. 

“Wasn't this that rollercoaster you were talking about last night, baby? You and Nayeon should go on it!” pushing her to the line with Nayeon. 

“Yes! Let’s go!” Nayeon takes off, leaving Momo behind with you and Jihyo who is furrowing her brows at you again. She looks too cute when she’s frustrated.

Momo and you look at each other, having not spent a lot of time alone together, she’s not really sure where to start a conversation with you. 

“Uhm…do you want to go get a snack?” remembering that Momo was partial to foods and maybe you could find some common ground. 

“Oh, Absolutely!” heading to the food cart near the ride that they were on so you weren’t out of sight…you wanted to make sure she watched what was about to happen. 

Grabbing a churro and a large pretzel, you and momo found a bench to sit on. You talked about a few different things and found that you actually did have some common ground. Enjoying a lot of the same flavors of food broke the ice between the two of you. 

You asked about her and what her schedules were like, understanding a little more than most about how time consuming they could be because of your girlfriend who was looking over and scowling every few minutes. Unable to stifle the laugh when you see it, Momo looks at you in confusion. 

“What’s so funny?” 

“Jihyo and I…we had a moment this morning before we came and picked you and Nayeon up. She’s been so clingy because she thinks I’m mad at her…and she keeps looking over here and making this face like she’s annoyed, I think she’s getting a little jealous because I’ve been cold with her a little today.” giggles lacing the explanation.

“Wait, why would she be jealous? I’m not going to hit on you…wait, not that you aren’t worthy of me hitting on you, but you’re obviously with Jihyo…not that I’m trying to hit on you or anything…not saying that I wouldn’t but it would be rude of me…to do that” stammering through the sentence and flustering herself, she turns bright red, unable to shield her embarrassment. 

“Relax, relax” you assure her.

“Listen, I’m actually trying to make her a little jealous…Would you be interested in helping me stoke the fire? You won’t have to do anything crazy.” asking for consent before carrying on with the plan you hatched. 

“...I don’t know, I mean she is my friend. What did you have in mind?” hesitant to agree, though she does have a small smile on her face. 

“Wait, I have to know…what did she do that made you mad?” now wanting the context of the situation. 

“Well, uhm, I don’t mind telling you but it’s definitely TMI.”  a warning before the tale.

“I live with Nayeon, there is no such thing as TMI. Especially because of the sounds that her and Jeongyeon make when she comes to stay the night…trust me, I’ll be okay. Spill!” chuckled back to you.

“Okay, so you know this morning when you called?” 

Momo nods her head. 

“Well we were in the middle of something and I was about to…you know…and she stopped and answered the phone…and never came back to finish what she started. But she sure did come back to make sure I stayed in that state and mindset” blinking a few times for emphasis. 

“Oh, she’s evil for that. Also, so sorry! I would never intentionally cock block you.” containing her laughter as best she could, she wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. 

“Okay, I’ll bite. I would be so mad if someone left me like that.” agreeing to your plan. 

Momo was very stunning and that was easy to admit. Her muscular arms were enough to cause a scene, beautiful face, charming voice and she cooks? She was quite the catch. Jihyo being aware of the way you view Momo made it almost too perfect.

Your hand travels up to her exposed bicep and rests there. Momo looks over at Jihyo, who is gawking at the two of you and typing furiously on her phone without even looking down. 

The table vibrates. 

Someone got a text message. 

Momo looks at you, waiting for you to reach for your phone to see if it was exactly what you both knew it was. 

“I want to see what happens if I just ignore it.” poking Jihyo even harder as you start tracing the outline of Momo’s shoulders and giving her the “fuck me” eyes. 

“Do you think she’s still looking?” Momo was afraid to look where her members were waiting. 

Phone pinging rapidly against the table, a slew of text messages barrage your phone. Making sure to roll your eyes just to add insult to injury before picking up your phone and seeing what your girlfriend had sent you. 

Baby<3: why are you that close to her?

Baby<3: what are you doing…

Baby<3: y/n…

Baby<3: why the fuck are you touching her like that?

Baby<3: Answer me.

Baby<3: Now. 

“Oh, she is definitely looking and she is definitely pissed.” giggling, putting your hand back on her arm, but her forearm this time. Swinging your head back to where Nayeon and Jihyo were in line, Nayeon is covering her mouth and trying not to laugh and Jihyo’s arms are crossed, staring daggers at the two of you.

“She looks pretty upset…are you sure you want to keep this up?” an apprehensive tone out of Momo as Jihyo and Nayeon step into the ride, getting seated, and fixing the safety equipment so it fits them the way it’s supposed to. 

Jihyo’s eyes never leave you. 

Winking at her and blowing her a kiss right before the ride launches off, you cackle when she’s out of sight. Momo isn’t really sure how to react to you seeing how mad Jihyo was. 

“So you want her angry…as revenge?”

“More jealous, but I’ll take angry too.”

“Won’t this…start a fight or something? Wouldn’t that be counterproductive?” questioning your motives. 

“You said there was no TMI right?” ready to spill the tea to her, knowing she would understand after you said it out loud. 

“Right.”

“She gets very…passionate…when she’s jealous…but she knows I would never cheat on her.” letting Momo in further to the game you were playing, the roller coaster still going, slingshotting over your head. 

Looking up at Jihyo as she passes over you, hand still on Momo when it happens and you can see the flash of rage on her face as she and Nayeon pass by. 

“This is literally so she will be…more aggressive…with you?” finally putting the pieces together.

Nodding your head with a devious smile, she can’t help but belly laugh at the plan you put together. 

“I know we are just getting to know each other now but I can see why you’re together. Especially if this is the response you have to what happened between you this morning. It’s like a game and I think we both know how competitive she is.” Nodding in agreement with herself. 

“Let’s just hope it goes the way I think it will. So far, she’s losing!” chuckling with Momo about the shared information. Even if your plan fell through, at least you were sure you had made a better friend out of Momo. 

Jihyo and Nayeon get off the ride, walking back over to you and the tension in Jihyo is palpable. She’s trying to mask it while Nayeon talks to her but when she approaches you, she sits between you and Momo on the bench, slamming her hand down on your thigh and squeezing as a reminder of her title. 

“Let’s head to the next one, the app says it’s only a 20 minute wait!” Nayeon sings loudly before standing and taking off. The three of you stand, Jihyo in silence, and you and Momo carry on the previous conversation you were having about food.

Jihyo grabs your hand vigorously, trying to get your attention. Even with the harsh display of affection, you made sure to stay present in the conversation with Momo, much to Jihyo’s dismay. 

Jihyo scoffs at you, throwing your hand that wasn’t holding hers down and walking, faster than both of you. 

Another few minutes and you were at the next ride, Jihyo and Nayeon get in line, you and Momo take a seat in view and continue on with your plan. Still talking about random topics, your hands tugging on the sleeves of the tank top she was wearing, and Jihyo burning holes into your skin and sending more angry text messages. 

Too bad your phone was on “Do not disturb”

“She’s really pissed, Y/n…maybe we should stop…” Momo is looking up at Jihyo, whose hands are now balled into fists, visibly clenched so tight that she probably shouldn’t even be going on this roller coaster. Nayeon is trying to get her attention, snapping her fingers in front of Jihyo’s face but it does nothing. 

“Maybe I’ll lay off a little. She does look a little more rage filled than expected…”  worried that you might have forced Jihyo past the point of return. 

The ride being quick and easy, Jihyo and Nayeon only being gone for a little over 25 minutes, you suggest something everyone would be up for. 

“There is that haunted house dark ride that’s kind of cheesy, we could do that one!” you reach for Jihyo’s hand as a peace offering, she’s quick to pull away and start walking towards the ride mentioned. 

Momo and you look at each other, Momo has a tight lipped smile, concerned at the scene that was silently unfolding around you. Nayeon has some cotton candy and is so focused on eating it that she doesn’t even realize what’s playing out before everyone.

Running to catch up to your girlfriend, you grab her hand before she can pull away. 

“Hey…hey” pulling her to a stop. She’s so mad she won’t even make eye contact with you, face holding a look of frustration that you’ve only seen in very heated situations that usually have nothing to do with you.

Wrapping your arms around her neck, her hands coming up to your waist like they usually did, showing you that she was, in fact, present for what you were about to say. 

“I was only trying to make you jealous…I just wanted you to be upset with me and take it out on me tonight is all…I’ll stop being a brat...Okay?” almost pleading with her to see that it was all a part of the game. . 

“I know what you wanted…But you don’t need to fucking hang all over Momo and throw a tantrum because you didn’t cum this morning.” tone heavy, almost spiteful.  

There’s a quiver between your legs, this is exactly what you wanted but this was not the time to tell her that.  

“I’m sorry, baby. I’ll stop, okay? Just please- let’s enjoy the rest of the day. You deserve to have fun and not have to worry about something so silly. I love you. No one else.” 

Leaning in to hug her, she doesn’t pull away from you. Jihyo just lets you hold her, reciprocating the movement but the tension was still there. Hoping to ease the stress, you kiss her lips tenderly. 

She smiles at you devotedly, squeezes your hand a little and guides you into the line of the ride. 

Jihyo has this air about her now, standing behind you with her hand never leaving the small of your back. She’s almost defensive posture the entire wait for the ride, though it’s not an aggressive stance, but the vibe of it is “this is mine.” 

“Alright, two people in a buggy, please!” the worker at the front of the line shouts over the crowds of people. 

Momo and Nayeon get seated in the one in front of you, the line of hooded seats moves up and stops. Climbing in from the left side and shuffling a step to the end, Jihyo gets in after you. She’s oddly stoic, inexpressive about everything. Usually she was so excited for this ride.  

Placing a hand on Jihyo’s forearm, you see her eyes follow your movements, carefully watching you. Taking your hand down into hers, lifting it over her shoulders, and placing your arm around her. Scooting closer to you, her head resting on your shoulder and linking your fingers together. 

This is peculiar to you. She was just borderline seething, then she was too calm, and now she’s cuddling you? Something’s not right…

The covered spheres you sat in started shifting once more, gradually making their way down the track. The lights dim as you make your way down the tunnel, leisurely launching into the water as the ride begins. 

The score for the ride starts to play through the hidden speakers, you feel a finger tracing the hem of your shorts on your upper thighs, getting closer and closer to where your legs meet every time they make a pass. 

“You know,” snapping you out of the trance the feather light touches put you in.

“I really don’t appreciate the attention you’ve been giving Momo today…” not even bothering to look up at you, just continuing to trail her fingers.

“And I don’t like that you ignored my texts and didn’t stop after seeing them…even if it was just to get my attention” Her fingers walk up to the waistband of your shorts and pause for only a moment.

“That being said,” unbuttoning your shorts before you can protest.

“Jihyo, we are in public! What are you doing?!” through clenched teeth, trying to push her hand away from where it threatened to touch. 

“I thought this was what you wanted, hm? To be punished? Isn’t this one of your fantasies? Isn’t this why you wanted me jealous in the first place? ” seductively into your ear, before she starts kissing and biting your neck. 

Muffling a groan that erupted as soon as her teeth sunk into your skin, you turned your head to kiss her but she grabbed your face roughly. Fingers on one cheek, thumb on the other, and palm on your chin, she forces your head forward and holds it in place. 

“Oh, no, no, baby. You don’t get to kiss me right now. You need to focus on keeping your mouth shut.” Condescendingly spat as she begins sliding her hand down your underwear and cupping your pussy. 

“Rock your hips. Now.” pushing her middle finger between your lips, the contact on your clit makes you jolt, and puts you right back at being a needy mess like you were this morning.  

“Go ahead, baby. Grind into my finger. I can feel how desperate you are…be a good slut and do as I say.” Lowly growling to let you know she wasn’t kidding and removing her hand from your face. 

Gasping at her tone and positioning yourself in a way that would feel the best given the situation, you bucked your hips up against her fingers harshly. She’s not even looking at you as you pathetically hump her hand, trying to keep your breathing even, small whines leave your lips and you pick up the pace. 

“Stop. I fucking told you to keep quiet. Now you’ll suffer.” the words echo in your brain, you halt immediately but almost cry at the loss of sensation. 

The ride is still spinning and moving through scenes and stages but with the way you're sitting, no one can tell where her hand is. 

“Jihyo…” a soft plea for her to make some form of movement on you. 

“I’ll do what I please with what is mine.” holding her hand in the same position, it’s completely drenched from your cunt and you just need to feel something. Completely frustrated at the way she was messing with you.

“Fine! Then, if you're going to do what you want then, so will I!” stuttering your hips again, using her hand in a nearly frantic manner. 

Jihyo just laughs at the act, removing her hand from your shorts and pushing you back down into your spot on the bench. She’s watching you closely, the primal need in your eyes, how you couldn’t find a comfortable seat. 

You have finally reached your breaking point. 

“UGH! Stop toying with me! I just need to c- cum! I’ll do anything, baby. Just fuck me already!” 

A villainous laugh reverberates through her chest, a devilish grin, and a hand wraps around your neck, squeezing the sides, and pulling you in for a heated kiss. 

Tongues dance amongst each other, eager in her movements and very much in control. Her hand makes its way to your cunt again and she pushes a single finger inside of you, it’s enough to incite a gasp from your lips. 

Unable to control yourself, you start thrusting your hips again. She pulls her finger out of you, instantly. 

“I didn’t tell you to fucking move.” taking her hand off your throat, about to remove her other hand from your shorts but you grab her forearm, grinding against her hand again.

“Please, baby…I need you. I fucking need you!” getting so close to her face that you can feel her breath on your skin.

She’s trying to keep calm but the fire behind her eyes was telling you she was anything but. 

Was she actually in control here? 

Only one way to know for sure. 

“Mommy…please, I need you inside me. Fucking, please!” A sense of urgency in your voice and the way you grasp at her shoulders has her about to pounce when all of a sudden, the ride comes to an unexpected stop, both of you now frozen, worried you’d been seen. 

“Hello! We are experiencing technical difficulties. Please keep your arms and legs inside of the attraction vehicles and we will have the ride up and running in no time!” crackles over the intercom. 

Faces inches apart, Jihyo’s jaw tensing as she looks out to see that the buggy you were in was facing a wall, no one could see into it. A lucky coincidence. 

Making eye contact with her, you remove her hand from your shorts. The confusion on her face shines through the darkness. You hook your thumbs in your shorts and slide them off completely. 

Jihyo’s eyes widened in shock, not expecting you to remove half your clothes on an amusement park ride.The look turns to hunger in a half second and you recognize the shift in her. She was about to devour you. 

“That’s how bad you want it, huh? Willing to get half naked  in public, just to feel me?” Lifting your legs, she rotates your hips towards her, pulling your calves hostilely so you lay down in the seat that was roomy for 2 people. 

She pushes your thighs against your chest and stares down at your drenched cunt.

Licking the padding of 3 of her fingers, she slaps your pussy with an audible smack, not worried about how sensitive you were in the slightest. 

“Think you can flirt with Momo all fucking day, and then I’m just going to fuck you?” Venomously hissed through the sounds of people chattering around you. They were waiting for the ride to start again, you were hoping it would be a while. 

“What is it about her, hm?” Another smack. 

“Do you think she could make you this wet?” This smack harder than all the other ones, but you knew she could do better. 

“Who do you think made me this wet in the first place?” with a tenseness that matched the state of your yearning. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” She slams her full palm right on your cunt, you jolt and let out a silent cry as your entire body starts to tingle from the antagonistic slaps of Jihyo. 

“Can you cum like this? Should you even cum at all?” splattering your soaked cunt’s fluids all over her own legs and hand. 

Without warning, she slams two fingers into you. It takes everything you have to not let out a sound. Gripping anything you could, you tried to say quiet, the hardest task assigned because all you wanted to do was cry. 

“Mommy! Slow down, oh fuck, I’m gon- ungh -na cum!”  

“I don’t fucking care. Be a good little whore and shut the fuck up.” lowering her head, teasing you with the tip of her tongue. 

Relentlessly fucking into you, it takes all the control you were quickly losing to keep your moans in, not that the other sounds emanating from you were any quieter.

Feeling yourself making a mess, you decide to take a little control from her. Running your fingers through her hair, gripping her locks and mercilessly rocking onto her tongue at a steady speed.   

“Fuck, fuck, fuck- Hyo, I’m gonna fucking cum!” 

She shoves another finger into your entrance unexpectedly, causing you to cry out- pulsing around her fingers and finally gaining the release you've been chasing all day. Thighs tighten around her head, holding her in place while you ride your orgasm out but her fingers don’t stop thrusting. 

“Baby, what -mmmhhhh fuck, oh my fucking god!” 

“The whimpering whining whore wanted to cum so badly, right? So fucking cum.” Slapping your clit over and over again. You can’t help but get loud for her, velvet laced grunts and adrenaline filled moans flee from your lungs in a race to fill the air. 

“Shhh! Keep it down or I’ll stop and leave you like this again!” stiffly whispered to you when she got up onto her knees to lean over you. 

“Wouldn’t that be so sad? Let me help you.” Shoving her fingers covered in your own slick into your mouth to keep you quiet and placing the palm of the other right on your clit, fingers curling up into you so hard that you can’t even govern your own body. 

Vision starts to fade, the sensations are almost too much for you to bear. Muscles tensing throughout you as you dissolve into your own pleasure. Explosions and shockwaves ripple through the fibers of your being, leaving trails of electricity across your skin. 

Jerking and contorting under her, you can’t make much sound with her fingers halfway down your throat but the taste of your own cum from her finger adds to your state of bliss. You’re sure to suck every bit of yourself off her before she lazily pulls them from your mouth.

She’s got a smirk on her face like she just won a war when she watches you do it, unable to contain the victory smile she was prepared with. 

You are completely fucked out, leaking onto the seat, huffing and just trying to catch your breath. Putting your hand on her cheek before she makes her descent.  

“Was that what you wanted?” Jihyo questions, cleaning you with her tongue. Twitching out of sensitivity under her touch, completely swollen and unsure if you’ll even be able to sit properly for the rest of the day.  

All you can do is nod your head, too weak to even think about speaking. She helps you put your shorts back on and sits you up right before letting you lean into her until you regain some of your energy. 

The ride starts moving again, people start cheering as you make your way through the rest of the tunnel, not even remembering what attraction you were on in the first place. She’s pointing out the things she thinks would spark your interest indicating that she was no longer frustrated with you, at least to the same extent as before. 

Momo and Nayeon get off the ride first, waiting for the two of you at the exit when your buggy pulls up. Jihyo steps over you to get out first so she can help you stand, grateful for this because of how unsteady your legs were. 

Her hand around your waist as you walk out into the sun, happily feeling the warmth of the day. Jihyo points out a table with benches attached, walking everyone over to have a seat and discuss further plans. 

“Y/n, are you okay?” Momo asks, noticing your energy change. 

“Yes. Just a little tired.” winking at her. 

“…wait…is that what I heard?…you didn’t…” 

Jihyo butts in, suggesting to head over to an ice cream shop around the corner and everyone agrees. Momo and Nayeon are distracted with each other when you lean in and kiss Jihyo on the cheek. 

“Thank you, baby” 

“Don’t thank me just yet, I still have plans for you once we get home.”

[yourneighborlyweirdo]

The Easiest Way to Manifest/The Ultimate Beginner’s Guide to Manifesting! (My Personal Method)

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*

What if I told you there was a way to instantly manifest whatever you’ve ever wanted?

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*

I’m talking like, you think it and it appears minutes (or even seconds with practice) right before your eyes?

If you’re interested, this is how.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*

Introduction:

So, let’s get into it. Hey, if you don’t know me, I’m kinda new here on Tumblr—new like I just started posting today type shit. (I literally set up my account hours ago.) I’ve been scrolling on this app for atleast a month now and I’ve been seeing some posts that are pretty helpful, so I just want to give my personal advice to any of those who are struggling. (Because that used to be me.) I wanna start this off with a warning…

Warning: If this doesn’t resonate with you, take what you like and leave the rest. If my advice doesn’t help you out it doesn’t have to! And don’t force yourself to use my technique if it feels weird to do or something you aren’t comfortable with. But if my method doesn’t work for you, (which I highly doubt because this can work with anyone and everyone) then maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. And also, I am not a professional. I am merely a vessel trying to pass my knowledge on to others. But, I do consider myself a Master at Manifesting, only because I’ve Mastered it. And my only goal is to help you Master it too. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to drop a comment or a DM. Thanks!

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*

The Law:

In this technique, I will be using the Law of Assumption. If you’re not sure what this is, let me explain…

The Law of Assumption is a universal Law for manifestation. As the name suggests, it means assuming. Everything you assume will become your reality. Practicing the Law of Assumption means realizing that the 4D (Your mental reality, your imagination) is the only thing that matters, not your 3D (Your physical reality, the thing you’re seeing right in front of your 2 eyes.)

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*

(Side Note: I use “LOA” to abbreviate/shorten “Law of Assumption.” Both of these terms will be highlighted in pink for your understanding. Also, the 4D is your imagination and the 3D is the physical world around you. I suggest you remember these terms.)

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*

An Example Scenario of Using The Law:

Example: Let’s say, I really want a soda. But I’m laying down in my bed, so obviously, I can’t see a soda in front of me. But, using the LOA, I can get my soda. Here’s how…

So, I’m sitting here in my bed really wishing I had a soda in my hands. To manifest a soda, I will use the LOA. To use the LOA, I will either think or speak out loud, whatever you want to do, to manifest. I will start thinking. “Damn. I really want a soda right now. I know I’ll get my soda. I want it so I can get it. I will have my soda, one way or another.” And a couple minutes later, I got a text from my parent saying they brought me a soda from the gas station. (Yes this example is a true story on how I started manifesting using the LOA for the first time.)

If you’re not picking up what I’m putting down, let me break it down. Here’s what just happened in that example:

1. I really wanted something (in this case the “something” was a soda)

2. I started to think about how I wanted it, then I assumed that I would get it, one way or another.

3. Boom! I got my desire. (Which was the soda in this case.)

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*

Breaking It Down:

See how easy that was? Within minutes I got my desire in only 3 easy steps. If you’re still confused, let me explain…

What happened there was I identified what I wanted (AKA: My desire being something I wanted.) Then, I used the LOA to manifest my desire to becoming my reality. Then naturally, the 3D followed what I thought in my 4D.

Literally the only thing I did was think what I wanted to happen and it happened in front of my eyes.

You: “But why? But how? How is that even possible—”

What happened was I thought something in my imagination (my 4D) and the physical world (the 3D) conformed because the 4D will always be in charge of the 3D.

Think of the 3D as a chief in a restaurant. The 4D is the waiter, and you are a customer in that restaurant. Let’s say you wanted to manifest a soda, so you’d say, “Waiter! I would like one soda please.” And the waiter, (The 4D) writes down in his notepad that you ordered a soda. The waiter would then go to the back and go tell the chief (The 3D) what you ordered, and then the chief would make it, and then you would get it.

That’s what the 3D and 4D are. You’d “tell the waiter what you want to order” (AKA: Think in your brain using your imagination/4D what you want to manifest) Then the “chief would cook up what you ordered and you’d get your order.” (AKA: The 3D will make what you manifested happen in your physical world and your manifestation would appear in front of your eyes.)

Hopefully now you understand what the LOA is, how to use it, and what happens when you do use it.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*

What Happens When I Manifest Something and The 3D doesn’t conform?

Let me say this now: That is impossible. It is impossible for your 3D to not conform to the 4D. The 3D only will NOT conform when you ASSUME it won’t.

Your assumptions will become your reality. To change your assumptions, use your thoughts and imagination, (AKA: the 4D) and your 4D will become your 3D.

Assumptions are thoughts. Thoughts are your reality.

Read those 2 sentences again until they are memorized.

Don’t you see? Do you understand how easy it is?

So let’s say, you manifested something, imagined it (using the 4D) and it didn’t appear right infront of your eyes. Don’t panic. It’s okay. Take a breather, and tell yourself that you will get your desire. You imagined it in the 4D, and after reading this post, you’re sure that the 3D will conform because it WILL. Just persist in the fact that you WILL get your desire.

(Do you get what I’m saying here? Assume, assume, assume. Assume you will get your desire. Assume it will come quickly. Assume that it’s easy because it is! When in doubt, assume, assume, assume.)

If you don’t get your desire, it’s because you’re assuming (AKA: Thinking) that it won’t. Assume that you can and will manifest, and it will.

The 3D DOES NOT MATTER. You know why? Because, I’ll repeat,

Assumptions are thoughts. Thoughts are your reality.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*

A Step By Step Tutorial:

1. Identify what you want to manifest.

2. Assume it will happen by thinking.

3. You get your desire.

You can assume things many ways. Here are my favorite ways in the form of sentences:

1. Assuming it will happen in the future. (Example: Using sentences containing “I Will.” Sentences in the future tense. “I know I will get desire one way or another.”)

2. Assuming it will happen in the present. (Example: You use sentences containing “I Am.”Sentences in the present tense. “I have my desire.”)

3. Assuming it already happened in the past. (Example: You use sentences containing “I Had.” Sentences in the past tense. This is also referred to as “Living in the End.” “I already have my desire.”)

Remember that all of these ways are ways to manifest. There is no better one than the other—use what works best for you! (I personally use all 3 ways all the time. They all work the same way and for me, not one is better then the other. They’re all great and they all work. Use what works best for you!!! Don’t let anyone tell you one works better then the other because that’s simply not true. I’ve manifested using all three and so can you!)

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*

Summary And Last Thoughts:

In order to manifest, you only need to figure out what you want to manifest, then think about it as an assumption, (one of the 3 ways I listed above, using a Past, Present, or Future sentence) and then just wait knowing you will get your desire.

Notice how in this post I never covered the “how” or the “when.” (The only “how” I covered was how manifestation works with the 4D and 3D, nothing beyond that.) Because you don’t need to focus on those things! Focus on manifesting, NOT how it happens or when. The only time you should be focusing on the when is when you are manifesting your desire to come quicker.

Also notice how in this post, it was a continuous cycle of…

Thoughts=Assumptions

Thoughts+Assumptions=Your Desired Reality

Anyone can manifest. And this isn’t the only way to manifest, this is one method of many. It’s easy when you assume it’s easy!

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*

I hope this post helped atleast someone. Have a good evening, morning, or afternoon. If you have a question or concern, feel free to drop a comment or send a DM.

The ultimate Law of Assumption song (You deserve your manifestation and that’s why you should get it!)

⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

Sincerely,

Your Neighborly Werido

[salsascribbless]

want to donate an e-sim but do not have those sweet sweet american dollars?????!!!!

I'm doing a fundraiser where if you donate a minimum of RM10/USD2, you get a free portrait piece!

[Read me, copied from my instagram]

As you probably know, there is a genocide happening in Gaza. People murdered, starved, and put in inhumane conditions. Homes leveled and families torn apart - some even having entire generations wiped out.

There are many charities that are currently asking for donations. The organisation that your funds will be going to is called ConnectingGaza (or Connecting Humanity). Founded by @mirna_elhelbawi , it aims to get e-sims to people stranded in Gaza with no way of connecting with the outside world.

This gives them a few days of internet access in order to check in with loved ones who they might not have contacted for weeks on end.

Here is their website for more information-> gazaesims.com

As a student myself I worry that I cannot donate an amount that is significant in any way. So I hope that with your help, we can raise funds together!

What do you get?

If you donate a minimum of RM10/USD2 you get free art! This is totally optional, but if you would like something drawn, just fill up the "Free Art" section after donating.

Learning from my previous attempt at something like this, the art may take a minute to reach you (unfortunately, I have school, among other things, sigh). But! I will contact you first saying that I have received your order as proof.

Thank you so much for your time, dm me if you have any questions!!

Use the google form to donate

[meemoop]

Character Design

because I get a lot of asks and DMs about why I draw HP characters the way I do and my character design process, I have made a post about it!

I drew Draco to be a blend of Narcissa and Lucius; I was constantly looking between the two while coming up with Draco’s face and build. Sampling hairline from Lucius, texture from Narcissa etc. I think you can tell, but if not, I sort of mapped it out below. (Terrifying, I know)👇

I drew a LOT of inspiration for the Malfoys from Tim Burton (obviously lol) by exaggerating Narcissa’s figure, and Draco’s limbs to emulate the vibes I wanted. But, because I’ve exaggerated those two, I need to exaggerate a contrast for their partners. THAT is why Lucius is tall, bulky, and broad. Harry is probably the most proportionate one (that’s why he’s so hard to draw) with a bigger build. I’ve also drawn Pansy to contrast Draco (she is curvier and shorter) and I’ve done the same with Ron and Hermione. Incidentally, the golden trio now all look distinct from each other! Woohoo!

I think to have contrasting pairs is SO important, especially when there is a storyline (at least to me it is) because characters look so distinct by themselves but harmonize when together. I’m still learning about cartoon design (it hasn’t even been a year since starting this blog) so please don’t think I’m giving “professional advice” I just want to share what I’ve learned so far as a beginner myself. I hope this answers a lot of your questions and helps you all with your journey! 💗💗

**please read comments**

[outsideratheart]

Shoot Your Shot (Alexia Putellas x Olympic Gymnast!reader)

A/N: I know it’s been a while but I am hoping to get back to writing again. Here’s a little Alexia Olympics fic. I hope you guys like it.

The night had been a blur but in the best possible way. Alexia had dreamt about representing Spain in the Olympics for years and to win a gold was always the goal. It was a goal she and the team achieved after beating Brazil in the final. 

She had truly let loose and celebrated what this achievement meant to her, her team and the people of Spain. 

Here’s the thing about Alexia, when she was drunk she became very very confident. So much so that in her intoxicated state she did something she has wanted for do for a while, she shamelessly slid into your DMs. 

It’s how she found herself standing in the Olympic village with her hands as clammy as can be the following day. 

“Ale, what’s wrong?” Irene asked her club team mate. 

The woman in question could only shake her head. Her thoughts were running 100 miles an hour and she couldn’t help but think it was a mistake. Had drunken Alexia stitched currently Alexia up?

“Haven’t you heard?” Jenni playfully nudged her former club captain “Alexia here got drunk and messaged Y/N Y/L/N. That’s why she is so nervous, she is meeting up with her this afternoon” 

Irene couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She knew Alexia was an admirer of you, everyone did. The Catalonian watched every single one of your events and if she couldn’t watch them live then she would watch them as soon as she got into the locker room. 

“You did?” Irene asked in disbelief. 

Alexia could couldn’t speak. She could only nod her head as a form of response. 

She thinks back to the night before. She had been celebrating for hours and drank bottle after bottle of the finest wine France had to offer. 

Hola guapa 

That is what Alexia messaged you on Instagram. The reason why you even responded is lost on her but she did make a mental reminder to ask you about it. 

“So?” Jenni asks Ale. 

“So?” Alexia had a dumfound look on her face. 

“What are you going to say to her? We all know that drunk Alexia is confident but sober Alexia is not, she is quiet and doesn’t make the first move” the forward knew her friend too well. She knew exactly what Alexia is like and once hearing about her quest, she made it her mission to help her. 

“I don’t know Jenni. I couldn’t stop talking last night but now, now I have no idea what to say” Alexia began pacing back and forth. 

The nerves were surfacing and they made Alexia feel sick. Not only did she think you were beautiful, you were also the most decorated gymnastic in history. That itself came with a level of intimidation that Alexia was dreading. 

She knew her friends were trying to help but they were only making her feel worse. She needed to escape but that didn’t happen. No, instead of peace she found herself being hit several times by her team mates. 

“There she is!” Jenni slapped Alexia extra hard. She herself was excited at the thought of meeting you. 

“Leave. Now. Please” Alexia whisper shouted. 

“No. Let’s go see her” Jenni had already started walking towards you. 

“You can hide behind me if you get scared” Irene teased her friend. It was rare to see Alexia this nervous so she made a point to enjoy it. 

You were talking to some other athletes when the three Spaniards approached you. You know it was rude but Alexia was the only one you paid attention to. You didn’t think it possible but she was even more stunning in person. 

“Alexia!” You were excited and it came through in your tone. 

You all but ran towards her. Did you look eager? Yes but you didn’t care. 

“Y/N, it’s so nice to finally meet you” Alexia did something out of character. She pulled you into her arms. 

This earned looks from both of her friends who upon seeing the midfielders action realised that maybe Alexia’s feelings were more serious that then thought. 

“So we are going to leave you two to explore and are going to meet up with the rest of the team” Irene nudged Jenni in the opposite direction of where you and Alexia were heading. 

Jenni teased that she would only leave if you two took a photo together. It was something you happily agreed to if it meant getting some one on one time with the Barcelona player. 

You and Alexia agreed on walking to one of the coffee shops located in the village, the one that had become a favourite of yours. Alexia kept stealing glances at you only she wasn’t being as subtle as she thought because after each time she looked at you, you felt a fire set a light in you.  

“Do I make you nervous?” You tried to lighten the mood by teasing a little. 

“Yes. Very much” Alexia was scared to admit this. Besides, she knew you knew otherwise you wouldn’t be asking her. 

“You weren’t nervous last night” you playfully nudged her causing her cheeks to flush red within an instant. 

“I’m sorry for that. I celebrated a little too hard” 

“Why are you apologising? Congratulations again” 

“I must have said some embarrassing things. It’s why I don’t drink and text” 

“Hmmm, you did tell me that but then you told me that if you didn’t use your liquid courage to talk to me then it would have been a waste” you couldn’t help but giggle as you recalled Alexia’s honest words. 

“I said that?” 

“Yes. Haven’t you read the messages this morning?” You ask knowing that you had read the messages numerous times since you woke up. 

This did nothing for the way Alexia felt. Should she have read them? Did she say something that needs re-reading? 

“I haven’t. Did I say something bad?” Alexia asked scared of the answer.  

“You didn’t. You talked about football and asked about gymnastics. We talked about how much we have been watching each other throughout the tournament. Oh! As requested” you reached into your pocket and got the pin Alexia asked for. You briefly looked at it. It wasn’t the normal Team USA pin, no it was your personal one. The one you reserved for friends and the athletes you respected the most. 

Alexia looked lost. Her gaze went from the pin, to you and the back to the pin. She learnt from social media that the Olympians traded pins but she had no idea why you were giving her one or what you meant by she requested it. 

In that moment you realised that maybe Alexia had drank a little more than you originally thought. 

“You don’t remember asking for this, do you?” 

The way Alexia innocently pointed to herself was adorable. 

“Yes, you” you poked her playfully in her chest “Last night we talked about what we wanted in life and you said to take me on a date and a pin” 

“This isn’t the USA one” Alexia closely inspected the pin you had placed in her hand. She then holds it up so you could see the pin as if you hadn’t seen it before. 

“No, it is not. I get asked to swap pins all the time and 90% of people get the USA pins, this pin” you reach into your pocket and show Alexia the pin in question “only friends and athletes I admire and respect get that one” you point to the one you gave Alexia. 

The Spaniard’s cheeks flush red as she rubs her finger over your name that was within a gold heart. 

“Gold?” She raises her eyebrows. The whole world expected you to get gold this Olympics, multiple at that. Clearly by the pin you expected this of yourself too. 

You don’t agree nor do you disagree. Instead your response comes in the form of a shrug of the shoulders. 

“I don’t have a pin for you” Alexia admitted.

“That’s ok. They don’t have to be swapped. I’ll happily give you it Alexia”

Alexia stood there in awe of you. She recognised your beauty through the screen but she soon learnt standing in front of you that it didn’t do you justice. 

You stood there is the same awe. Alexia was a sight to behold. You had watched every game of hers you could. Maybe you should have been cheering for the USA but you were raised a Barcelona fan so from the very beginning you wanted certain Spanish players to succeed. She was known as La Reina and now more than ever you understand why. She was a queen. Her eyes radiated under the French sun and you could spend hours getting lost in them. 

“Shall we?” Alexia held out her arm and you linked through them. The act wasn’t an intimate as hand holding but it was very sweet. 

“We shall” you wondered if the smile on your face was as big as it felt. 

For the next hour, you and Alexia walked around the Olympic village trying all of the different food stalls. When you see it, you pull her over to the chocolate muffin stand.

“You have to try this” you peel back the wrapper and hold it out to her. She eyes it up suspiciously as if she is thinking about whether or not to try it. 

“Alexia, I -“

“Ale” she cuts you off. 

“Ale?” You ask with furrowed brows. 

“My friends call me Ale” 

“Is that what you want us to be? Friends?” You know you are pushing a little bit but this was a date. You were trying to find out if Alexia asks her friends out on dates. 

She bashfully shakes her head which causes you to nod yours. This ends with both of you having shy smiles on your faces. 

“Try it. It will be one of the best muffins you taste in your life” it was a bold statement but you stood by it. You had eaten a couple of these during the last two weeks and you had a huge sweet tooth so you felt qualified to rank the sweet treat. 

When Alexia takes a bite her eyes widen, heR head tips back and you know she agrees with you. The grin that spread across her face when she looks at you is adorable. 

“That’s so good” 

She then takes another bite before taking it out of your hands and holding it out for you to have a bite. 

Time seems to run away from you because the couple of hours that you had planned to spend together pass by and before you know it the sun is setting in the sky. 

You wanted to squeeze every second out of the night but you remember Alexia telling you that the team was flying back to Spain the following morning. 

“I’m this way” you point in the direction for where you were staying. 

“I’m that way” Alexia does the same and of course her hotel is in the opposite direction “come with me” she tilts her head on the same direction. 

“Is that a question or?” You joke with her. She could have been asking or telling you, you didn’t mind. 

“Well you gave me this” she holds up your pin “you swap them, no?” 

You nod your head with a mixture of confusion and intrigue. Alexia said she didn’t have a pin. Did she mean that she didn’t have one with her. 

“So come with me and get your gift” Alexia, for the first time that day, sounded truly confident. 

She lead you down the streets of Paris. Like last night the two of you began talking but in person it got a lot more personal. You talked about the hurdles you both had to overcome in order to compete at the Paris Olympics and to do so at the highest level. 

Soon enough Alexia is grabbing your hand and pulling you into one of the 5 star hotels located in the heart of the city. You expected her to drop your hand when you enter the reception area only she doesn’t. The act fills your stomach with butterflies. 

When you enter the elevator and Alexia scans her room key you realise that she must be taking you to her room. 

She opens the door and heads straight for her luggage. 

“I was too nervous to re-read our messages. I thought I might have said something embarrassing. If I had remembered that I asked for your pin them I would have brought you this” 

She held up a red Spain jersey, her jersey. 

“Is this-“ 

“From the gold medal match? Yes. It’s the shirt I wore during the first half” 

“Alexia, I cannot accept this. It should be framed or given to your mother, not to a stranger” you immediately give her the shirt back. 

“I want to give it to you. Today has been one of the best days I’ve had a long while” you give her a look and she knows exactly what you’re thinking “one of the best days off the pitch” 

She holds it out for you to take. At first you don’t, you can’t. Alexia doesn’t budge and you honestly think she will hold out that shirt for hours if that’s how long it took for you to accept it. 

In the end you do grab the shirt but you also grab her hand and pull her close to you. You lean in and kiss her softly on her lips. Just as you are about to pull back, Alexia pulls you in for another kiss. 

“Now you’ve had everything you wanted” you say with a smirk of your face. 

“I don’t understand” the Spanish says. 

“Last night you told me you wanted three things. The first two you told me straight away and the third you told me just before we said goodnight” 

Still, Alexia was at a loss. You told her what she said she wanted and it was only two things. She is about to ask you what the third one was but then she sees you running your index finger over your lips and it clicks. 

“I told you I wanted to kiss you?” Alexia couldn’t believe what she had confessed to you. She would have felt embarrassed to admit just after spending the day with you, never mind last night when you were practically strangers. 

You nod your head. 

“What if I told you I wanted to kiss you again?” Alexia asks only this time she owns her question. 

“I’d tell you to come over here and get what you want” 

You didn’t need to tell Alexia twice. She strutted over to you with the most confidence you have seen her with that day. She cupped your face and pulled you in. The kiss was a little bit deeper that the first kiss. You slowly push Alexia back until her knees buckle against the foot of the bed. 

She doesn’t make an effort to push you off her. If anything she encourages the passion and you are happy to oblige. Both you and Alexia fought for dominance but ultimately you don’t get to find out how would come our victorious. 

The sound of a keycard been swiped has you both frozen in place but still neither of you make any effort to move. It’s as if the person of the other side of the door won’t see the two of you if you are still.  

“ALEXIA!” 

It seems the the woman who you are still straddling recognises the voice before you do. 

“Por dios” Alexia, whose hands are resting dangerously low on your back, taps you signalling for the two of you to get up. 

When you turn around you see Jenni standing in the door only she is joined by a different player than she was with this morning. 

“Nice to see you again Jenni. Nice to meet you….” 

“Misa” the keeper introduces herself “you’re Y/N Y/L/N?” 

The Madrid keeper also admired you only she was bold enough to tell her team mates she has a crush on you. Knowing this information is enough to wake the green eyed monster within Alexia. 

“Yes, she is. Sorry about those two. I did text them asking for them to message me when they were on their way back” Alexia apologises for the interruption. 

“We did! Look” Jenni shows Alexia the 5 text messages she sent her and then shows that she even tried to called her twice 

“Let them off Ale. We were pre-occupied” the smirk that tugs on your lips in enough to heat up Alexia’s cheeks. 

The four of you stand in the hotel room waiting for someone else to speak first. In the end a text from your manager makes you be the one to break the short silence. 

“I need to go” 

“No” Alexia whispers. 

“It’s late and you have a flight to catch in the morning” you move closer to her “thank you for an amazing day Alexia and thank you for this” you hold up her jersey. 

“When can I see you again?” The two of you lived in different countries and had very gruelling schedules but Alexia wanted to know that today wouldn’t be the last time she saw you. 

“You’re in America in the next couple of weeks. I’ll see if I can make it to one of the games so keep an eye out in the crowd” you kiss her softly on the lips. 

“Will you be wearing my jersey?” 

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see” 

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

The Gift

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Virgin f!Reader

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: 9.2k

Warnings: Period typical sexism and treatment of women, period-typical ideas of virginity and virtue, Marcus is a bit rude at first but he comes around quickly, attempted assault that is heavily implied to be sexual, canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, wound care, yearning, virginity loss, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PIV sex, mushy endings :)

Summary: The Emperor of Rome has given his most valued General, Marcus Acacius, a generous gift after his recent successful battle. Rather than the gold he’s hoping for, Marcus is stunned when a young virgin is delivered to his chambers. At first, he refuses to entertain the idea of stealing the virtue of a scared girl, but their lives become entwined when he learns that refusing his ‘gift’ puts her in even more danger…

A/N: The art in the header is by @norththelemon and is inspired by Paulo and Virginia by Alessandro Puttinati. Thank you so much for letting me use this artwork for my fic!!! <3 The artwork does not necessarily reflect the appearance of the reader character; rather, it is a reflection of the original artwork. The only physical description I included of reader is that she has long, curly hair (color and texture are never mentioned). Marcus’s pet name for her, bellatora, very loosely translates to “little warrior.” Thank you to the lovely @leslie-lyman for the beta! **NOTE: as attempted SA can be triggering to some people, I have separated out this section with asterisks (******). You can quickly skip this scene and you will not miss any significant plot. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to send me a DM! Be safe <3

Masterlist

Marcus rides through the streets of Rome, the cheers of citizens ringing in his ears and the white petals being thrown from above him sticking in his curls. The populus is joyful, but he cannot help but think of the cost of the battle, about the sons and husbands who he knows are not returning home.

He longs for a bath, to wash the grime, dirt and blood from his body. He longs to strip off the heavy, soiled armor and lay down on his bed, naked and warm and full of bread and wine, and sleep for several days.

First, however, he must endure the long procession up to the palace, where the Emperor was surely waiting for him–where he would have to play all the little games that come with positions of power: smile, nod, say the right words and act in the ways that other people expect of a General.

The horse whinnies nervously as the cacophony swells, and Marcus gently pats its neck, sending a cascade of petals to the ground to be trodden underfoot by so many hooves.

The Emperor waits at the top of the Palace steps, surrounded by all of his court and Roman nobility. Without allowing any of the contempt he feels to show on his face, Marcus Acacius dismounts from the horse and slowly ascends the marble stairs. When he reaches the top, the Emperor pulls him into an exaggerated hug, slapping his back and cheering loudly enough for the onlookers to hear.

“Congratulations to you, my friend, for your triumph and victory over the vanquished,” the man booms, slapping Marcus's pauldron again for good measure and causing another great cheer to rise up from the crowd.

Marcus does not say anything, but he turns to face the onlookers and unsheathes his sword, raising it over his head victoriously, knowing that's what they all want him to do. The resulting din seems to rattle the very stones of the palace.

“You must be weary, good soldier,” the Emperor tells him. “Go now and rest. A gift will be sent to your chambers to show your Emperor’s appreciation for your prowess in battle.”

Marcus nods and bows deeply, indicating his gratitude for his Lord's generosity. He's most thankful, however, for the quick dismissal.

The General’s quarters in the palace are spacious and outfitted with all modern amenities Marcus could ever think to ask for. He quickly lights a fire under the basin to begin heating water for a bath. He begins removing his armor, leaving it by the door where he knows it will be collected for cleaning and polishing. He discards the filthy underclothing and retrieves a clean cloth with which to wash.

It is only now that Marcus is able to take sock tock of his injuries; as the grime is wiped clean from his body, he can finally see where the blood was his, and where the blood was not his. His arms are peppered with bruises and superficial wounds, but nothing that requires any dressing. 

He is lucky. 

Marcus dresses in loose robes, luxuriating in the feeling of being free and unencumbered by his armor. With a deep, satisfied sigh, he settles himself down on the bed, surrounded by the ornate pillows that come with Palace trappings, and closes his eyes.

They’ve barely been closed for a few minutes when a knock sounds at the door. 

Marcus frowns. All his joints and muscles protest when he reluctantly rises from the bed again and opens the door. He’s greeted by one of the Emperor’s personal guard, who is roughly holding the upper arm of a young girl.

“What is the meaning of this?” Marcus asks hesitantly, taking in the girl’s simple, white shift that clings to her breasts and hips, her trembling lips, and her wide, terrified eyes.

“The Emperor, in his generosity, presents you with this virgin as reward for your duty to Rome,” the guard announces. He pushes the girl forward into Marcus’s chambers and shuts the door behind him.  

“What in the Gods’...” the General murmurs under his breath as you are shoved unceremoniously into the room.

You curtsy deeply, remembering, despite your fear, what you have been instructed to do. “M-My Lord,” you whisper through trembling lips. You can only stare at the floor, unable to look at the man to whom you have been gifted.

“I had been hoping for gold,” the man grumbles. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

He sounds angry. This terrifies you more.

“I am f-for your… p-pleasure,” you try to explain. “My Lord.” You deepen the curtsy, until your knees nearly scrape the floor. If you please him, perhaps he will not be unkind.

“Stop that. Get up.” the man snaps. “I’m not in the mood for deflowering virgins.”

“S-Sir?” You don’t understand. You weren’t prepared for the man to say no. You were bathed, dressed, and told that you were to be a gift for a mighty general. You were to please him, let him bed you, and serve him until he tired of you. You were instructed to kneel, to address him as only “My Lord,” and to do whatever he asked of you. Only then would the debt your father owed to the Emperor be paid in full. 

You were not given instructions on what to do if the General refused his gift.

“D-Do I not please My Lord?” you try again. Terrified of being turned away, sent back to your father, where they’d surely kill you both, you begin to cry.

“By the Gods–stop, come here,” the General says, sounding exasperated. He gently leads you to a chair and indicates you should sit. You do. He crouches on his heels so that your heads are level, and examines you. “Who are you, girl?”

“I… am the only daughter of Proculus Opilio,” you sniffle. “I am a gift for his Lord’s pleasure.”

The man’s fingers take hold of your chin; his hands are gentle as he guides your eyes up to his. “Why are you a gift,” he presses.

“M-My family owes a great debt,” you whisper. “I am to be payment for our transgressions against the Emperor.”

“The Emperor sends me a frightened child,” the man growls as he quickly stands and paces away from you, “and calls it a gift.”

“You must accept,” you say frantically, hopping up from your seat and following him. “They will know if you do not, and we will be punished for it.”

The general scoffs. “What, they intend on checking?” he asks, as if such a thing is too ridiculous to be spoken aloud.

“Yes,” you whisper. They told you as such.

“Girl,” he says sternly. “I am not going to enact such violence on a scared child.”

“I am not a child,” you argue, sticking your chin up. “I have seen nineteen summers, almost twenty.”

The General seems to find this funny. He huffs, shaking his head and turning away. “Go home, girl.”

“I cannot go home,” you say, and start to cry again. 

“Stop. Stop,” the man entreats. He turns toward you again and cages your face in his hands, rubbing the tears away with his thumbs. “Okay. Do not worry, I will… Gods, I will help. You and your family will come to no harm.”

“Thank you,” you say emphatically, your hands coming up to your shoulders in preparation to unclasp your shift.

“No! Stop!” You freeze again, eyes wide.

The General softens, and gentles his words. “Please stop. I am weary from battle and I need to sleep. Please… let us both rest, and after that we may discuss this with level heads.”

“Of course, My Lord,” you nod, curtsying again. 

“Marcus.”

“...My Lord?”

“Call me Marcus. I am no Lord.”

“As you wish, My Lord.” It comes out automatically.

The General–Marcus–raises one eyebrow.

“...Marcus.” You watch as the man pads over to the bed and collapses onto it with a heavy sigh. 

“You may sleep here, you may sleep elsewhere, it does not concern me,” he mumbles, eyes already closed. “I am not long for this world and will be unconscious for quite some time, I imagine.”

His words are correct; within a matter of minutes the man is snoring. 

Alone and scared, you sink back down into the chair, and begin to cry again.

Marcus wakes with something tickling his nose. Opening his eyes, he’s greeted by a mass of curls on his pillow, framing the angelic face of… 

Oh.

He had forgotten about you. At some point, you had clearly decided to sleep as well, because you are curled up next to him, your hands clasped under your chin and your lips slightly parted in sleep. This is the first time he’s seen your face not terrified, and he realizes that you are really quite beautiful.

He does not know what to do with you. 

Marcus has never had a shortage of willing partners, and he is uninterested in the alternative. You are pretty, young, and soft, but he is not the sort of man to force himself on a woman. Even if you did ask him in no uncertain terms to do so, it would not be for the right reasons. 

He needs to find a way out of this situation, ideally with his life, your life, and the lives of your family still intact; he did not wade through the blood and mire of battlefield just to condemn an innocent woman to death.

“Girl,” he says lowly, and your eyes open quickly. They go wide at his proximity, and you scramble back a few inches, creating more space between you.

“H-Hello,” you greet him shakily. 

“Good morn,” he replies. “How are you feeling?”

“Well-rested, My Lo–Marcus.” You offer him a small, timid smile. 

Marcus glances toward the window. “It must be almost midday,” he says, noticing the angle of the sun. He’d fallen asleep yesterday in the late afternoon, slept all night, and through the morning. He hopes you did the same. 

“I am famished.” He gets up from the bed–Gods, his muscles still ache–and pads toward the door to his chambers. “With any luck, this morning’s breakfast will still be outside.” 

It feels like the only act of providence that has happened since his return to the Palace that the breakfast tray is still there, laden with fresh bread and fruit. He carries it inside and sets it on the small table in his chambers. He grabs a piece of bread with one hand and beckons you over with the other, too hungry to be polite and wait for you before tearing a piece off with his teeth. He finishes the bread in a few bites, but you still stand near the bed, unmoving and watching him with wary eyes.

“Come. Eat.” Marcus grabs another piece of bread and a handful of grapes. 

Hesitantly, you approach the table, looking like a wild animal unsure of whether the human offering you food can be trusted.

“I do not bite, girl,” he grumbles. 

You snatch a loaf off of the table and retreat backwards a couple of paces, breaking off small pieces and popping them into your mouth as you continue to stare at him. 

“What will you do with me?” you ask.

“Do with you?” Marcus laughs humorlessly. “Nothing.” 

“Nothing?” you repeat, beginning to sound angry. Good. Marcus would rather you be anything but the timid, scared girl that was shoved into his chambers. “So you would condemn my family to death?”

“I am not going to take an unwilling woman to bed,” he growls, taking more grapes from the tray and popping them into his mouth. 

“Most people would do far worse to save the life of a loved one,” you argue. 

Marcus scoffs. “I’ve seen and done things you could not imagine, girl. If losing your maidenhood is the worst thing you can conceive of–”

“It is not,” you snap, stamping your foot in a show of exasperated petulance. “If you are not going to help me, then… I—I hope the gods curse you!” you finish lamely. You spin on your heels and retreat to the corner of his room, sitting down on a chair and crossing your arms with a huff. 

Marcus closes his eyes. He is being too harsh with her, too cruel. He has spent too long shouting orders at his men of late, and not enough time offering comfort or kind words. He grimaces and approaches you with caution. You glare at him, and he doesn’t blame you, but he slowly sinks to his knees in front of you before speaking.

“I have been unkind,” he says softly. “Please forgive my rudeness.”

He watches as your pretty eyes narrow, then widen, then narrow again as a number of emotions seem to flicker across your face. Your lips part, but you don’t respond, and Marcus forges on.

“I did not ask to be put in this situation, and neither did you. I made a promise to you last night that you and your family will come to no harm, but we must work together to keep you safe.”

“Would it not be easier to simply take your ‘gift’?” you sniffle, jutting your chin out and trying–unsuccessfully, he thinks to himself–to be brave.

Marcus chuckles softly, reaching forward and gently grasping both of your hands. “I have committed enough violence in the name of Emperor and Country to last a man several lifetimes. I may not have been as kind as I should have been to you, but I will not take the innocence of a scared girl who is being used as a pawn in the evil games of powerful men.”

You sniffle again, wiping your nose on the back of one hand. “Sometimes I wish I could just be free of this cursed ‘gift’ of innocence and lose all value to men like that.”

Marcus huffs in amusement. “Do you, now?”

You sigh, turning and looking out of the window. “How nice it would be to be valued for other qualities, instead,” you murmur, speaking more to yourself than to him. When you turn back to look at him, you ask, “How will you–we–subvert the wishes of the Emperor himself?”

Ah. He was rather hoping you wouldn’t ask, at least not yet. Truthfully, he has no idea; all he can really hope to do is attempt to sway the Emperor in some way, or at the very least, buy him some time. 

“I will request an audience,” Marcus tells you. “I must go soon to debrief with the other generals, and he will be in attendance. I will speak to him, garner favor…” he trails off, knowing how vague and uncertain he sounds. 

“You would really take such a risk for me…?” you ask hesitantly. 

“The Emperor, in his wisdom, has bestowed upon me a gift,” Marcus says sardonically. “And as I see it, that gift is now mine, and is under my protection.” He gently cups your cheek, letting his palm rest against the slightly damp skin. “We will use his… generosity… to our advantage.”

He stands, letting his fingers trail across your jaw before pulling his hand back. “I must go. Do not open the door to anyone while I am gone.”

In the General’s absence, you finish off the rest of the breakfast tray, which was plentiful. With a full belly, you wander around the man’s chambers, exploring the space that will also be yours for the foreseeable future. You wash in the basin, splashing cool water on your face and sighing in relief. For the first time in over a day, you are finally able to breathe and take stock of your situation.

You should be grateful, really. The General Marcus, although gruff and tactless at times, seems to be a caring, even kind man. You believe him when he says he will protect you, protect your family, even though you have nothing to give him in return. Nothing he wishes to take, at any rate. 

Your eyes fall on an ornate dagger sitting on a table near the window, and you cannot help but think of the way his hands–the same hands that would fiercely wield a weapon to slice through skin and bone–so gently touched your face. 

A loud knock on the door to Marcus’s chambers startles him out of your reverie. A soft noise of surprise escapes you before you are able to clap your hand over your mouth to stifle it. You can tell that whoever is on the other side of the door has heard you, because they pause, listening, and then knock again.

The handle rattles as someone on the other side turns it back and forth, testing the strength of the lock, and your heart pounds with trepidation. 

They cannot get in. They cannot get in. They cannot get in. You repeat the phrase over and over in your head, but then you hear the distinct click as the lock is bypassed or picked, and the door swings wide.

“Well, well, well,” a man in ornate robes sneers. “It appears the rumors are true.”

**********************************

Another man in similar garb pushes past him. “Our beloved general has a new toy.” The words are dripping in sarcasm.

You back up against the wall, and the table next to you rattles when you bump it with your hip. Quickly, you pick up the dagger and point it at the intruders.

Both men guffaw loudly, slapping their knees and shoving each others’ shoulders in their apparent mirth. “She has teeth, she does!” one of them jeers.

“Tell us, did you bite the General when he stuck you?”

The men lunge forward, and you slash with the blade. One of them howls, clutching at his arm, where red is already beginning to well up between his fingers, but you are unused to wielding weapons and the second man rips it from your grasp easily.

“You little bitch,” the injured one spits, and slaps you, hard, with his good hand, the blood from his injury splashing your face and your white robes. You crumple in an instant, clutching your cheek, as the two men close in.

“I bet she squeals nice and loud,” one of them growls menacingly as he reaches for you.

*************************************

A loud bang from behind the men makes them startle. You look for the source, and see the General standing in the doorway with fury in his eyes. He wrenches another dagger from its scabbard and, with no warning, lunges forward and plunges it into the neck of the man who had reached for you. With a sickening gurgle, the man collapses instantly, and red blood begins to pool underneath him. Marcus rips the dagger from the man’s neck and points it at the second man as he shoves him against the wall, who immediately begins to whimper and shake his head. 

“Sniveling cur,” the General spits. “I would happily kill you both, but you are going to deliver a message for me instead.” At the man’s frantic nod, he continues. “It seems that some need reminding that I am not to be trifled with,” Marcus snarls. “And the next person who disrespects me by harming my property will be dealt with in the same manner as your friend. Now. Go.” 

The man bolts, clutching the wound you had given him.

Marcus’s demeanor immediately changes. He drops the dagger on the floor and falls to his knees in front of you, taking your face in his hands again… hands that are trembling. 

“They hurt you,” he murmurs, his eyes rapidly flicking back and forth over your face, seeing the blood that had spattered on your robes.

“It isn’t mine,” you manage to say, although your voice shakes and your chest heaves with leftover terror. You can’t keep your gaze from landing on the dead man in front of you, his eyes still open and staring sightlessly ahead. “I–your knife I–”

“Okay,” he nods, his thumbs still caressing your cheekbones. “Okay. Shhh. Don’t look at him, look at me.” When you manage to pull your gaze to the General instead, you’re suddenly captivated by his wild, dark eyes. They’re so full of fire, yes, but with that fire brings warmth. He stares at you as if you are a precious object, not some scared little girl covered in blood and cowering against the wall. “Come here,” Marcus says softly. “Let me help you up.”

You surprise even yourself when you automatically lean forward and into the General’s arms. He stiffens, seemingly just as stunned by your trust in him, but he recovers and carefully stands, pulling you up with him and gently turning your body away from the dead man. He leads you forward, and you follow blindly as he guides you down onto a chair. 

“Let me fetch a cloth,” Marcus says, his expression stormy and troubled, “to clean you up. Do not move.”

You nod, watching as he fills a little bowl with water from the basin and comes back to crouch at your feet. “Your cheek,” he murmurs. “Is it very painful?”

You nod again, a few hot tears escaping from your eyes and stinging the small cut in question. 

“I will be as gentle as I can,” Marcus promises. “But it must be cleaned.”

You shut your eyes as his fingers carefully grasp your chin, using his hold to tilt your head and grant him easier access. The cloth is cold against the burning skin of your cheek, and you cannot stop the soft whimper that leaves your lips. Gently, the General dabs the little wound, dipping the cloth in water over and over and soothing the tender skin as he wipes it clean of dirt and blood.

Once satisfied with your cheek, he cleans the man’s blood off of the rest of your face and neck, as well as the few droplets that had landed on your hands from the other man as he was stabbed. 

“Thank you,” you whisper hoarsely as he gently turns one hand over and dabs away the last remaining spot of blood on the inside of your wrist. 

“You should not be thanking me,” Marcus says, voice tinged with bitterness. “It is because of me that you came to harm.”

“Yet it is also because of you that I was not harmed further,” you tell him quietly. Your eyes dart toward the body in a pool of blood still lying on the floor, and quickly look away again. “You killed a man for me.”

“You are under my protection,” Marcus says solemnly. “I do not take that vow lightly.”

As your heartbeat finally begins to slow, the deep terror that had been swirling inside you leaves, replaced with bone-weary fatigue. Your vision swims and your head sways slightly as you suddenly feel that you must fight the urge to fall asleep right here in this chair.

“Something ails me,” you say, alarmed at your darkening vision.

“Battle fatigue,” the General says matter-of-factly. “When the fog of war lifts, sleep often takes its place.”

“I am no soldier,” you protest tiredly. The world shifts–Marcus has scooped you into his arms and is carrying you to his bed, carefully laying you down on the blankets. 

“You are now,” he teases gently. “Victorious little soldier, bellatora, wielding a General’s weapon with ferocity. You even have a battle scar.” His finger gingerly brushes your cheek.

“Will others come?” you ask, struck with a sudden pang of fear even as your eyes threaten to close. 

“No.”

“What if they do?” It’s a silly question, and you aren’t sure why you even gave voice to such a childish fear. Warmth envelops you as Marcus covers your form with a blanket. Your eyes finally close, and the General’s last words seem to come to you through a dream.

“Then I will fight the entire Roman army to keep you safe.”

Marcus Acacius did not want this “gift.” 

He did not want a virgin to deflower, nor a scared girl to comfort, or even a servant that inexplicably tidied his rooms while he was away.

He did not want you. 

But here you are, sitting by his window with a book, eating all of your dinner and a good portion of his, and leaving long, curly hairs on his pillows, by the basin, and even on his armor–something he had discovered during a drill one morning, pulling the offending strand off of his pauldron with a bemused shake of his head. 

He does not want you. He doesn’t want the comb and mirror that now lie on the table by the basin, nor the extra rags he had to ask a servant for–ears burning bright red–when your… er… monthlies arrived. He does not want to spend his wages on new robes for you, but he hardly has a choice, not when your thin white shift became filthy with blood the night that he–

Gods.

The night that he almost lost you.

If his meeting had gone just five minutes longer, he would have been too late. He would have arrived to a much different scene, and he knows he would have killed every inhabitant of the palace in retribution.

This is how he knows that he cannot trust his own feelings when it comes to you. What should be an unwanted inconvenience in his life has quickly become much, much more. He acts like a man in love, the way he buys you trinkets and brings you sweets, but no matter how he twists the story in his own head, he cannot deny the truth: you are a captive. His captive.

As if to punctuate his thoughts, a wealthy merchant crosses his path in the bustling market, followed by another man carrying all of the man’s wares for him, purposely walking several paces behind as is the custom for slaves.

Marcus can dress you in all the finery his salary can afford, but that does not change the fact that you were intended to be a slave for his pleasure. 

He already has his intended prize from the market–a parcel containing two pieces of sweetbread tucked under one arm–but perhaps it is guilt over your imprisonment that causes his head to wander to the stall of jewelry to his left. 

“Trinkets for a special someone,” says a middle-aged woman wearing kohl eyeliner and almost as many beads around her own neck as are displayed in her stall. She shoots Marcus a knowing smirk as his fingers reach out to graze a length of beads of palest pink. 

“Rose quartz,” the woman tells him. “For love, compassion, and emotional healing.”

Rose quartz. He cannot help but picture the pretty, pale beads glowing, luminous against the soft skin of your neck.

“How much?” His voice is rough and thick. 

The woman’s smile widens.

They cost almost an entire weeks’ salary, and he’s never spent such a sum on anything for himself, let alone something so frivolous, but he’s already reaching for his purse.

You grin widely at Marcus’s return–a sight that makes his heart swell when he remembers how frightened you were of him on that first night. You make little grabbing motions with your hands, causing him to laugh as he hands over the parcel of sweetbread. You take your piece and hand him the other, hardly waiting until he’s taken it before you’re biting into the sweet dough with a sound of pleasure that goes straight to his nether regions. 

He thinks of the necklace, wrapped in cloth and hidden in his robes, but he is struck with a moment of uncharacteristic cowardice, and he leaves it where it is. 

“Tell me about the market,” you say wistfully. 

“Too crowded,” Marcus grunts before taking a bite of his own sweetbread. 

You seem to find his cantankerous nature funny, for Gods know what reason, and the pretty sound of your laughter fills the room–and his mind.

“There are a number of visitors for some play at the amphitheater tonight,” he explains further, shrugging slightly.

You suddenly exclaim in delight, startling him a little. “I love the amphitheater,” you say emphatically. “My father often had to punish me for sneaking in to see plays against his wishes when I was a little girl.”

Marcus chuckles, picturing a smaller version of you, but no less fiery.

“It was worth it,” you laugh. You pop the last piece of sweetbread into your mouth and suck each finger clean of the sticky dough in turn. Marcus should look away, but he’s entranced by the way your lips close around each digit, leaving clean, shiny skin in your wake.

He blames this momentary onset of utter madness for the words that leave his mouth next.

“Would you like to go see it? The play?”

 The pure delight that washes over your face is enough to make Marcus want to take you to a different play every night, but after too short a time, you are frowning warily.

“Would that be wise?” you ask. “Is it not dangerous for me to leave your quarters?”

“You would be seen as my consort,” Marcus answers. “No harm will come to you, bellatora.”

“Your… your consort?” 

“You cannot be a prisoner in these walls for the rest of your days,” he tells you softly. “If we play the parts we have been given–the General and his consort–no one will question it. They wouldn’t dare, not after my warning. The entire palace knows that I will gladly kill anyone who threatens you.”

You duck your head, looking down at your hands. Marcus wonders if you’re frightened of him, still. 

“Everyone will see my act as one of possession,” he says. “Of territoriality. If we allow them to draw that conclusion, they will never suspect any different.”

You nod, biting your lower lip and giving him a timid smile that slowly spreads across your face and turns into something bright and joyful. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

“The play will end before we even arrive, bellatora,” Marcus grouses from the main chamber. 

“Patience,” you snap from the washroom. The stupid elaborate hairstyle that you keep trying to braid your hair into keeps falling out, and you’re beginning to feel frustrated. With a heavy sigh, you settle for a simpler plait that falls over one shoulder. You’re wearing one of the nicer gowns that Marcus has gifted you–robes of deep emerald green, but you still worry that you look far too common to be an appropriate consort to a General.

Since when has such a thing become a concern for you? Despite the roles you are forced to play, Marcus is not your consort, nor your lover. He has made it clear he will never touch you, so why are you hiding in the washroom, worrying over your appearance?

With a pained sigh, you shake yourself, square your shoulders, and turn to face the General.

“Ready,” you announce, and the man in question looks up.

His lips part slightly, a little crease forming on his brow as his eyebrows raise. He fixes you with that look–the one he keeps giving you lately. It’s as if he’s in a constant state of surprise every time he sees you, as if you aren’t a permanent fixture in his rooms and could disappear at any moment. 

“What?” you finally ask. 

Marcus seems to shake himself out of his stupor. “It is missing something.”

The statement confuses you. “I–I have nothing else to–” You cut yourself off as the man seems to be digging through his clothing, looking for what, you do not know.

“I thought this would suit you,” he says quietly, as he retrieves a small parcel and holds it out for you to take.

You hesitate, frowning. “What is it?”

Marcus huffs softly with impatience and opens the parcel himself, revealing the prettiest strand of stones you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Oh,” you gasp. 

“Do you…” the man in front of you clears his throat and shifts in his stance, “Do you like it?” he asks gruffly.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Yes, I like it.”

Wordlessly, he removes it from the cloth and moves behind you to clasp it at the back of your neck. You can’t help the wide smile that breaks across your face at the feel of the cool beads resting against your throat. Gently, you touch the necklace with your fingers and turn to look at Marcus. “Does it look pretty?” you ask, still grinning at him.

The General’s face is almost pained when he returns your gaze. His eyes don’t leave yours when he softly answers, “Yes.”

Marcus Acacius has never been much for plays, but never before has he experienced seeing one with you. He can’t help cracking a small smile himself every time you let out a joyful peal of laughter, which you do often, as the story is a humorous one. 

The necklace suits you just as he thought it would, but your beauty almost makes the stones appear dull in comparison. If anyone were to ask him, Marcus would say that your smile could outshine all of Rome. Pretending that you are his consort is far too easy; your delicate fingers find the crook of his elbow without prompting when he offers his arm to you as you walk through the streets when the show ends. Your eyes always seem to find his, your face bright and hopeful and oh so lovely as you look up at him. 

“Marcus?” 

He’s been lost in his thoughts again. He grunts and nods to you as the two of you walk back to the palace, when you suddenly stop. 

“I want to tell you…” you begin, wringing your hands together nervously. 

“What is it, bellatora?” Marcus asks with concern.

“I want to tell you that I am… very happy,” you say, ducking your head and avoiding his gaze. 

“I am glad that you enjoyed the play,” Marcus says hesitantly, wondering what is making you suddenly be so… shy.

“With you,” you add quietly. “It’s not only the play, it’s… it’s just you, Marcus.” The final word is almost a plea, with how earnestly it leaves your lips. “I–I want you to know that I would. I would be your consort, i-if you wanted, and I’d–”

Marcus closes the small distance between you and presses his lips against yours. You yield to him immediately, your small hands moving up the planes of his chest and coming to rest at his jaw. You kiss with the slight timidness of someone unfamiliar with how to do it, but oh, he’s happy to guide you. One of his hands gently cups your neck, the other caresses your cheek and it’s all he can do to keep the kiss chaste and not frighten you by backing you up against the wall of the alleyway and opening his mouth to you. 

When he releases your lips, you chase him–leaning forward with your mouth still pouted and your eyes closed, as though you cannot bear to be parted from him, and it takes a herculean effort not to indulge.

“Come,” Marcus murmurs softly, his thumb tracing back and forth over your cheekbone, watching as you flutter your eyes open and look at him with an expression of such open trust and want that he feels as though he’ll burn from the inside out. “Come, let us go home.”

You are ablaze.

Marcus’s hands seem to burn with heat as he guides you hastily through the palace and to his familiar quarters, but their temperature still seems to pale in comparison to the heat that rises within you. 

Once inside, he kisses you again, and you swear your knees could simply buckle and give out just at the feel of his lips on yours. You crave it again and again; your hands grip at his robes to hold him close to you, hoping he’ll never stop. 

“Sweet girl, little bellatora,” Marcus murmurs, his lips dragging from your mouth across your cheek to the side of your neck and oh, you like that even more–your head falls to the side and your back arches as you all but beg for his lips on your skin again. His hand on your lower back guides you even closer until your bodies are pressing together and you gasp softly at the feeling of his body against yours.

“Tell me,” he whispers in your ear, his lips grazing the shell of your earlobe and causing a cascade of shivers to course through you. “Tell me that you want this. If you do not, deny me now, and I promise I will never touch you again.”

“No,” you whimper automatically. “No, please don’t stop, just–”

“Shhh, bellatora.” Marcus seems to crumple with relief, leaning forward until your back hits the wall and his lips ravish your neck once again. “I won’t stop, just tell me you want me like this.”

“Yes,” you gasp, as the General’s hands cage your face and his mouth meets yours once again. “Yes, yes, yes–” You repeat the word over and over into his mouth, until he groans softly and parts his lips too, deepening the kiss and tasting you with his tongue.

His hands caress your neck, fingertips running up and down before settling on the clasps on your shoulders. “Let me see you,” he whispers. “Please, let me–”

You pull back, looking in his eyes as you nod slowly, giving him permission. He carefully undoes your dress, letting the fabric fall and pool at your feet. The necklace is still around your neck, and he touches the beads lightly as he stares at the sight before him.

“Oh, Gods…” Marcus murmurs to himself, shaking his head in awe. “What a divine gift you are, bellatora.”

His eyes rake over your breasts, your hips, the swell of your stomach, and the fire burning within threatens to consume you. With one more soft kiss, he whispers, “Come to the bed, so I may worship you properly.”

You let him lead you, keeping your eyes on him as he takes your hands in his and pulls you toward the bed. You are too consumed with flames to feel fear of this moment, but a pang of nervousness thrums within you despite yourself. 

Marcus guides you down until you’re sitting on the edge of the bed. You begin to scoot backwards–you might not have much experience, but you know you’re supposed to be lying on the bed–when he stops you, and instead sinks to his knees in front of you. 

“I–” you begin, unsure of what to do.

“I want you to watch,” the General whispers, looking up at you in the same way an acolyte may look up at a temple. “I want you to see me.”

Slowly, cautiously, as if he’s afraid of spooking you, he guides your legs open until you’re splayed out in front of him. You would be embarrassed, but for the hungry look in his eyes, how his chest seems to heave in anticipation, and the way his tongue darts out to lick his lips as if he’s about to enjoy a feast.

When he leans forward, his mouth moving toward you, you gasp and stiffen, and he pauses.

“Trust me,” he soothes. “It will feel good, I promise.”

You swallow thickly and relax again, watching as Marcus comes even closer, until he’s able to press a kiss right on–

“Oh,” you whimper softly. 

Emboldened, he angles his mouth against you and licks. The sensation of his tongue through your folds causes you to collapse backwards on your elbows, your head falling back and your eyes closing as you gasp toward the ceiling. 

“Watch,” Marcus reminds you. 

With you half-sprawled on the bed, your legs fall open even further and his hands wind underneath your hips as he pulls you even closer onto his mouth. His tongue, his lips… oh, it’s so decadent; you’ve never felt pleasure like this by your own hand. He thrusts his tongue into you, and you can only whine and babble wordlessly, your eyes wide as you dutifully watch him please you. He alternates between these deep, overwhelming strokes of his tongue and little licks right on the little bundle of nerves above, back and forth, back and forth until your entire body shakes. 

“Exquisite,” Marcus rasps, his voice rough with exertion and pleasure. His lips close around you and he sucks gently, and the fire within you burns until it reaches a crescendo, until finally, you fall.

“Bellatora.” The endearment is laden with affection, and when you slowly blink your eyes open, the General is smiling down at you. “Are you with me, mi bellatora?”

You giggle. “I think so.”

He must have disrobed while your eyes were closed; you stare at his slightly golden chest, at the light dusting of hair and freckles, and further down, where–

Oh, Gods. 

Marcus hangs thick, heavy, and proud, and you swallow in trepidation at the thought of all of that inside you.

“Don't look at that; look at me.” The words are soothing, but tinged with humor, and you can see the mirth sparkling in his eyes when you do as he asks and look at him.

“Let us just lie down together,” he says, smiling. “Nothing more.”

You scoot up until your head rests against the pillows, and Marcus crawls over you with a smirk, pressing little kisses up your body as he goes, until he lies down beside you and pulls you into his arms.

With your back against his chest, you can't exactly forget about the hard length of him, as it's currently pressing insistently against you. You wiggle, arching your back and trying to soothe the empty ache that still seems to reside within you. 

“Feeling greedy, mi bellatora?” 

You whine softly and push back against him harder. His arms are wrapped around you, but somehow, it’s still not enough. You want him everywhere, you need everything. 

“What have you done to me?” you laugh softly. 

“Nothing you have not also done to me,” Marcus murmurs, nipping your shoulder playfully. 

“I have done nothing,” you say airily, leaning further back into his embrace.

“Oh, you have,” he growls. “You have invaded my quarters–”

“That is hardly my doing–”

“–and shortly after, invaded my heart,” Marcus continues, ignoring your interruption. “You have made me crave as I never have before.”

“You have made me feel the same,” you whisper. “I have never… felt anything like this before.”

“Mi bellatora,” he breathes against your skin, sending shivers up and down your spine.

“Do not be cruel.”

“Cruel?”

“You are denying me.”

At your playful accusation, Marcus suddenly shifts, rising up from beside you and pinning you to the bed with his body. “And it is taking the effort of every bone in my body, more challenging than all twelve labors of Hercules.”

“Then stop,” you tell him softly, reaching up to palm his cheek. “Stop denying us what we both want.”

Rather than answer, the General lowers his mouth to yours. 

Kissing might be your new favorite thing–you thought the feel of Marcus’s lips was the most perfect thing you’d ever felt when he kissed you in the alleyway, but here, in his bed, with the weight of his body pressing deliciously down on you, his kisses feel even more profound. His hips roll gently against you, and you instinctively wrap one leg around his thigh to try and relieve your desire for more friction. 

The action causes Marcus to groan and bury his face in your neck, his light beard scraping against your skin. Your hips cant upward unconsciously, and the skin of his cock catches and rubs against your folds. 

With a little moan, you press against him harder, wanting more, more–

“Bellatora,” Marcus groans. He props himself on one elbow over you, spits on the other hand and rubs the wetness onto the head of his cock. He repeats the motion again, and then gently rubs the remainder onto you, making you arch back with a surprised gasp. 

“I know, I know,” he murmurs. “It’ll be easier like this.”

He lines up the thick head of him with your entrance and pushes the tip in ever so slightly. Your eyes widen as you feel him, your mouth falling open as you stare up at him in awe.

“That’s it, just look at me,” Marcus murmurs. “Just keep looking at me.”

His face is so close to yours that your breaths mingle as he slowly slides in. You expect it to hurt, but you’re so soaked from his earlier attentions that it’s almost easy for him, at first. When he’s only about halfway in, though, you start to feel unbearably full–too full–and it makes you whimper softly and squirm against him.

“Breathe for me,” Marcus reminds you. “Breathe, mi bellatora.”

In between more kisses and soft praises, he pushes forward, bit by bit, until you can feel his body fully pressing against your core.

“Oh,” you whisper, smiling shakily. “I can feel you.”

Marcus chuckles. “And I, you.”

He stays just there, unmoving, stroking your face, until you begin to squirm with impatience again.

“I don’t want to hurt you, bellatora,” he says softly. “Please, love, tell me if I do.”

You nod, wide-eyed and enraptured by the feeling of being utterly filled. With one last gently kiss to your cheekbone, Marcus carefully begins to move. His cock drags slowly back and forth against your walls, and each time he buries himself to the hilt once again, it sends sparks of pleasure all over your body.

Your exhales turn high and breathy, little whimpers and gasps escaping every time Marcus reaches the end of you. You cling to his shoulders, the back of his neck, your fingers tangling in his curls, eliciting a deep groan and a change in the rhythm of his thrusts as he gains confidence that you aren’t in any pain. 

The faster Marcus’s hips move, the more it seems to send you into a frenzy. Your legs wrap around his hips and your grip on his upper body tightens as the fire within you starts to build again. 

Your lips seek any available skin they can find, pressing open-mouthed against his jaw, his neck, his upper arm, anywhere you can reach. One of Marcus’s hands gently cups the back of your neck for leverage as he grinds against you; the other wanders up and down your body–gripping your hip, squeezing your breast and pressing his thumb against your nipple, stroking your cheek as he kisses you again and again. 

His kisses become more and more messy and frenetic as he loses himself in the pleasure of your body. He pants softly, his voice catching on every exhale, quiet little noises deep in his throat that only you can hear. 

Your bodies move seamlessly together, aided by the light sheen of sweat that beads on your skin. Marcus hand slips in between you, his fingers finding the little bundle of nerves and gently rubbing circles into the skin there.

“Oh, I–I–” you whimper brokenly, drunk on the sensations of pleasure that he’s pulling from your body. “M-Ma–” 

“Say it,” he rasps in your ear. “Please, bellatora.”

“Marcus,” you manage to gasp. 

“Again.”

“M-Marcus, Marcus, oh Gods, I–” 

Your body arches off the bed as the strongest wave of pleasure you’ve ever felt courses through you. You convulse against him, hands scrabbling for a hold on his broad shoulders, gripping him for dear life as though he is the only thing keeping you from being pulled under by the waves. 

Your cries reach a crescendo and Marcus gives you everything–his hips snapping roughly against you as your core continues to flutter weakly. Finally, when your body feels boneless and the fullness of him begins to ache, his thrusts falter and he finally stills, his cock twitching inside of you as he finishes. 

He slips out, frowning slightly with concern when you wince, but continues to hover over you, his eyes sweeping over your face as your breathing slows and your heart quietens. He stays there, stroking your hair and kissing you until his shoulders start to shake with the effort of holding himself over you. 

You fall asleep tangled together, safe and warm in Marcus’s arms.

[Several moons later]

“Must we really go?” you wheedle as you watch the General fiddle with the clasp on his ceremonial robes.

“It is the most effective way to make our little statement, bellatora.” 

You cross your arms and make a show of pouting, although you know Marcus is right. You raise your arms, which are currently holding half of an unfinished braid. “Help me with my hair?” 

Marcus sighs loudly, although you know that, like your feigned petulance, it’s also an act. He takes the braid from you and finishes it before moving to the next section, plaiting it together the way he knows you like. 

“Tell me the statement again.”

He huffs. “You just like hearing me say it.”

“Yes.”

“An act against one of us is an act against both of us,” he murmurs dutifully. “And tantamount to an act of war, to be met with a swift and disproportionate response.”

“You always say that–‘disproportionate response.’ I do not understand what you mean by it.”

“Mmm. An opposing force sends one arrow into my army, I send one back. Proportionate response. Someone sends an arrow into my army, and I reign fire from the sky, burn every building to the ground, kill every citizen and remove them from every map. Disproportionate response.” Marcus finishes your hair and gently drapes the long braid over your shoulder.

“If ever you ask why I was scared of you when first we met, I will refer to you to that statement,” you say wryly. 

“You did ask, mi bellatora.” He picks up a belt and scabbard–similar to his, but smaller, more delicate, and ornate. He fastens it around your waist, cinching your dress and making you feel not only more alluring, but powerful. 

You do a little twirl and turn to him. “Do I look like the consort of an esteemed General?”

Marcus leans in and gently captures your lips with his. “You look like so much more. Now let us go into this den of wolves.”

With your head held high, you walk proudly through the halls at the General’s side, your hand tucked neatly against the crook of his elbow, until you reach the banquet hall, where the Emperor is holding a great feast. In your wildest imagination, you cannot think of a single place you want to avoid more, but you hold Marcus’s earlier promise in your mind as the heads turn to look at your entrance.

This is the last time.

The Emperor, surrounded by his entourage, raises his glass with a shout and a laugh as he sees the two of you. “The good General,” he grins wolfishly. 

“Taking his little plaything out for a walk,” one of the other men sneer. 

“Letting his little pet out of its cage,” adds another, snickering. 

Calmly, you unsheath the beautiful, ceremonial dagger that Marcus had given you as a gift and hold it at your side, just as he’d told you. A powerful warrior does not brandish their weapon or wave it under people’s noses, he had said. A powerful warrior does not need to. They simply remind their enemies that the weapon is there.

“You disrespect me,” you say, keeping your face even and your eyes stern. “And you disrespect my husband.”

Silence falls around the room. The Emperor’s men look at each other, to Marcus, and back to you again, unsure of how to respond. Finally, one of them laughs loudly.

“General Acacius is going soft,” he cackles. “Letting his little toy play pretend that she’s the wife of a noble.”

You fight to keep your expression free of malice or hurt, continuing to face them down calmly, your sword resting at your side. 

“Your gift to the General was far more valuable than you knew,” you say evenly, speaking only to the Emperor. “My family’s debt is paid in full, and I am therefore free to leave the palace at my leisure.”

The Emperor of Rome stares at you with befuddlement, his eyes wide, seemingly completely at a loss for words.

“We take our leave,” you announce with a flourish of a bow. 

“Leave?” The man sputters. “You are my finest General, you cannot–”

“I have given the Empire more than my fair share of years in service,” Marcus says quietly, standing resolutely next to you and placing his hand around your waist. “I find I have seen all I care to see of war, and the rest of my days will be filled with peace.”

Marcus turns to the other generals, who are all watching the confrontation with the Emperor. Without speaking, they draw their swords and hold them aloft in a silent salute to your husband–who solemnly returns the gesture. As you are still holding your dagger, you copy the gesture. This seems to please both him and the other Generals, who all smile. 

Marcus turns to you, beaming with affection and pride. “Let’s go home, bellatora.”

Epilogue

In a small hamlet south of the big city, a villa sits on a small hill overlooking the Tyrrhenian Sea. 

There is a rumor among some of the residents of the town that the man who lives there used to be a General in the Emperor’s army, but most of the inhabitants agree that this is a ridiculous notion. 

He’s too soft-spoken, you see; his gentle demeanor is unlike that of a soldier. He often likes to sit with his wife and watch the color of the sea change as the sun rises in the morning, savoring the moment of peace before his children wake up. 

There are five of them now–with a sixth on the way. His wife jokes that should she find herself with child for the seventh time, she’s going to feed the man’s privates to their goats. 

Their life is modest, but by all accounts of those who witness it, they are blissfully happy. Their home always seems to be filled with joy, laughter, and no small amount of chaos that always follows young children. They maintain a small farm, raise goats and chickens, and they sell their extra eggs and vegetables at the market every week, accompanied by their five children, who are helpful… to varying degrees.  

Sometimes, late at night, the odd passer-by will see the silhouette of a couple standing on the cliffs overlooking the sea, wrapped in a tender embrace.

They have few visitors, but those who have been inside their villa have noted that two swords are mounted above the front door. One is large, utilitarian, but expertly crafted–with signs of wear that might indicate it has seen more conflict than most. The other is small and elegant, the hilt decorated with precious stones. 

No one has ever dared to ask about them.

[towriteloveontheirarms]

Take it slow (Gale Dekarios x Reader)

synopsis: Gale and you share a tent for the night. The forced proximity is the perfect circumstance to explore each other more.

warnings: drinking, smut adjacent, reader is the first person to be with Gale after Mystra, heavy petting, dry humping, afab reader

word count: 1.8k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

A/N: Thank you to my darling @legitalicat for beta reading and also for listening to my honestly unhealthy Bg3 obsession. I love you💕

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The whole party sits around the campfire, drinking, celebrating another small victory. Spirits had been down lately, so this was more than needed and a night of light-heartedness feels only appropriate. You sit around in a big group until well into the night, when the first folks start retiring, leaving only a handful of people. Among them Gale, who after wishing everyone a good night, comes back to join you rather quickly. Garnering a few questioning looks.

“It seems like I am out of a tent for the night.” He explains his sudden return, one hand scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

You are about to ask what happened, when from the side Karlach loudly gives her own opinion.

“You should share a tent.” She laughs and wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

The suggestion garners a few drunken snickers around the group, but it also serves well to make your cheeks grow warm at the thought of sharing a space with the wizard for the night. Your nervous demeanour only furthers their giggles.

Gale however quickly lifts his hands in a defensive motion. “It´s quite alright. I don´t mind sleeping with- I mean sharing a tent with you. If you do not mind it either.”

His slip of tongue immediately produces more heat on both of your faces and gives the others a hard time not to burst out into roaring laughter.

“I do not mind it at all.” That secretly you had wished for this moment for a while now goes unsaid, though when he helps you to your feet your eyes linger on each other´s for just a second too long to still be platonic in nature.

Gale leads you away from the amused group by the hand and holds open the tent for you to enter before him.

Now alone with the wizard the tension in the rather confined space grows thick. The two of you lay stiff beside each other on the considerably too small bed roll, desperately trying to find something to say to lighten the mood somehow, to make each other more comfortable. Luckily for you, as you lay there so far away from the campfire, the cold seeps into your bones and makes both of you shiver.

“Would it be alright if I laid closer to you? Just to fight the cold a bit.” you ask in a croaky voice. Your fingertips drumming against the ground with excessive energy.

“Yes, yes naturally.” Gale replies fast, almost all but pulling you into his arms.

 Silence settles yet again as you lay your head on his chest, though it feels a bit less stiff than before. The scent of black tea, parchment paper enters your nostrils, accompanied by an undercurrent of sea salt and something citrusy to all mix for a scent that is so uniquely Gale. You can feel his chin rest against the crown of your head and instinctively bury your nose further into his chest. His hand runs up and down your arm with feather light touches, to warm you some more. The laughter from outside subsides to leave only the singing cicadas behind and the tension inside shifts to something much more than not being used to being so close so suddenly. Until you break under the weight of it.

Your lips tingle as they finally brush against his neck. Your heart is beating on your ears at how exciting it is, leaning in to repeat the motion over and over again. Sucking and nibbling at the skin ever so lightly. Gale’s skin warms up under your ministrations and his adam's apple bobs under a heavy gulp. Right as you pull away, he lets out a shaky breath. However, the two of you can't stay away for long, crashing your lips together. Hands grabbing at the other´s cheeks, necks and hips, anywhere they can reach for purchase. Your lips press together hesitantly at first, yet as they grow surer in what they are doing, stay slow, but crushingly passionate.

“Gods you’re such a good kisser.” You rasp against his lips. “I will never get enough of the way you taste.”

There is not a single trace of your initial bashfulness left as the kiss lingers longer and longer. Your hands wander over Gale´s arms to his chest, feeling his heartbeat drum against his chest to match the rhythm of your own. His fingers hook into your pants as your hands claw into the collar of his shirt pulling you into his lap and each other close until there is no air left between you. Nor is any breath in your lungs. The kiss is the only thing keeping the two of you alive in this moment. Savouring the sweet remnants of wine on his stained lips and the feel of their softness.

A guttural moan falls from his lungs, getting swallowed by you immediately. “Keep tasting me then.”

It's something he doesn't have to tell you twice. While you continue to breathe life into each other, you let your hands wander over the fabric separating each other’s bodies. Roaming the length of it repeatedly before they dip underneath. You gently drag your nails down his sides and back. Not enough to leave a sting but for a shiver to follow along with them. Ending with your hands running over the bulge between his thighs.

“Wait…” The wizard suddenly pulls away to stop you by laying his hands over yours.

You pull back as well at the sound of his voice, eyes fluttering open to gauge his reaction and the cause of the sudden stop.

The sight of his tousled hair, the shiny, swollen lips and the flushed skin. The heavily moving chest, in the dim light it's all so intoxicating.

“What is it?” You ask worriedly, taking hold of his hands and guide them to rest against your chest.

It takes a while for him to collect himself. “Yes, quite alright. I am not used to people touching me like this anymore. I…”

The frustration coming from him is palpable in his aura, but you on the other hand are filled with relief that he isn't shutting you out.

“We can take it slow. There is no harm in that.” You cup Gale's cheek in your hand and nudge his nose with yours.

A shaky sigh escapes his lungs in response to it. “I´m sorry. I must be so boring. You are probably used to more adventurous partners. You must think I don't want you now.”

“Hey, hey listen to me. There is no need to apologize. It is so exciting just to be with you. It is true I want you so much, but more than that I want you to be comfortable. So, if you do not feel ready to go all the way just yet, l am fine with that.“ While you coo at him reassuringly, eyes set on his, your fingers run through his beard.

He leans into your touch, practically purring at the soothing motion. He can´t help but nuzzle further into your palm. “Do you truly mean it?”

You don't mean to chuckle at him while he is being vulnerable, but the way he looks at you with those wide, dark brown eyes, you can't fight back the sound.

“Yes. Of course I mean it. I could never live with myself knowing I forced myself on you.” A chaste peck finds its way from your lips to his temple.

Gale seems taken aback by your understanding, though the confusion in his face doesn´t stay for too long.

“I have an idea. How would you feel about being the one to guide my hands over your body until you feel more comfortable with them wandering on their own?” You purr, biting your lower lip in excitement at the prospect of exploring him more.

His eyes glow up at the proposal and he slowly nods his head. “I think I would like that very much.”

Your hands, still holding his, find Gale´s chest, resting against it without moving. That alone has his heart beating faster an embarrassing amount, but so does yours as his own digits carefully begin to guide them. Shaky breaths mingle, your eyes stay on each other securely, meanwhile you feel the soft indigo fabric and the contrasting rough silver accents under your palms. Roaming over his upper body once more, caressing his neck and running through his hair. Every now and again your lips meet his to share a kiss or to press some chaste affection to his jawline or the column of his throat, which draw soft whimpers from both of your lungs. It gets the warmth in your stomach to swirl hotter than ever before and when you least expect it, Gale leads you underneath the shirt again. The feel of his still heated skin is exhilarating, but he still has a surprise left for you.

Gale lightly lifts one of his legs and flexes the muscles to rub against the bundle of nerves at the apex between your thighs, making you draw in a sharp breath.

“Fuck, Gale…” You breathe out, beginning to tremble just as much as he does. “That feels so good.”

The wizard is only able to hum in agreement, too focused on your fingers carding through his chest hair and teasing his nipples under his guidance. In search of more stimulation, your hips begin to move on their own. Rubbing your pleasure centre against his thigh, ready to stop at any moment. Yet as you do so, Gale groans and meets your stagnant motions. Your lips meet once more and just like this kiss your movement against each other´s bodies grow heavier and more passionate fast.

Before you know it, the wizard has left your hands at his hips to lay his own on yours to guide them instead. A tight winded knot builds in the pit in your stomach quickly, prompting your hips to grow more erratic.

“I am so close.” Gale barely manages to part barely far enough to moan into your mouth and is immediately met with the sentiment being very much reciprocated by you.

“I want to reach my peak along with you.” You whimper right back, desperate for the release that is threatening to take over the two of you.

The confession alone makes Gale´s hips falter and the hardened length in his pants twitch before erupting with his climax. A drawn-out moan fills the space that was otherwise only filled with your heavy breathing and pulls you right over the edge with him, your body weakly collapsing against his chest, while you bathe in the glow of your shared pleasure.

“Perhaps this might not be the perfect moment to confess this, but I think I have been in love with you since the moment I pulled you out of that portal.” You whisper weakly, eyes falling close at regular intervals already.

“On the contrary I believe there is no better time for this confession. I have felt similarly for a long time as well now. Though I have never dreamed of speaking my feelings out loud.” Gale answers in just the same quiet, intimate tone.

[coryndoll]

lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: cute silly little gesture from drewseph 😋 progress progress

prev next

authors note: this is just part 2 of day 2 so i’ll incorporate the movie night in the next part fs. let me know if u still want to be added to the tag list through replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3

you’re awoken by the light coming in through the blinds. it’s subtle, but it’s there. it bothers you and causes you to stir awake.

you can hear drew snoring—a habit you know all too well, but you ignore it. your eyes flutter open as you look around the room, then you look at him.

he’s dead asleep, but he’s on his stomach, his face parallel to yours. his mouth is a little open and one of his arms is underneath his pillow, hoisting him slightly higher, while his other is reaching toward your side of the bed.

you yawn as you twist your body and grab your phone off the nightstand, then check the time. it’s already noon. the others must be up and awake by now.

you drop your phone on your lap and use that hand to shake drew awake gently, but when he doesn’t wake up the first time is when you get a little rougher.

“star,” you tell him, in hopes that he gets up at least now or soon. you don’t want either of you to miss any of the plans going on that day. “wake up, come on,” you say, and drew’s eyes open once before he closes them again, and his legs move underneath the blanket slowly. he’s waking up.

“mmh,” he moans, and because his eyes are closed you know that he’s trying to fall back asleep. you retract your arm and get up from the bed. you figure he’ll wake up anyway, he knows he has to.

you walk over to the door and open it, then peek your head out into the hall. you look around for anyone, but all you find is theo walking upstairs to his and leila’s room with two plates of food.

“hey,” you say, then pause to clear your throat. you’ve already caught theo’s attention. “what are we doing today?”

theo shakes his head, his mouth full of his piece of toast. “not today,” his words are difficult to understand so he drops the piece of toast on one of the plates. “tonight. leila has this checklist that’s guiding our everyday, and she said she’s been wanting to just stay in one night, relax, watch some movies. it’s gonna be chill, but it’s only that.”

you nod, patting the doorframe twice. “thank you,” you say, then pull back into your room as you add, “and good morning!”

“‘morning,” theo says, and you close the door gently.

when you turn around you see that drew’s awake. or at least he’s changed positions. he’s lying on his side now, facing you again. you watch him as you return to your side of the bed. he has to flip onto his other side again when you even leave his sight.

“free day until movie night tonight. leila’s orders,” you say, and there’s a small smile on his face before he rubs his eyes with his palm. you look around the bed for your phone with a frown, “could sleep in ‘til tonight if we wanted to.”

“we?” he asks, and it’s like he’s caught you already suggesting plans for the both of you.

“if i . . . wanted to,” you correct yourself, then pause for a moment while you rub the back of your neck, looking away. “libby did say she could help me with some audition tapes today though.”

drew groans, stuffing his head back into his pillow. “why are you working during the two weeks we’re supposed to do anything but that?” he whines, as if you’re dragging him along to do it too.

you shrug, “some people are expected to book their next role as soon as possible. now that tempest is over, i want to start working on my next big thing.”

“tempest was the next big thing, you won an mtv award for it,” drew reminds you.

you think back to your tv series that had went on for six years, a good chunk of your life, before it ended just recently with its final season. tempest is the reason why you met drew in the first place—he shared his praise for your lead role at one of his movie premieres years and years ago.

you shake your head at him. “okay,” you say, deciding to get up and out of bed.

“where are you going?”

“i’m not gonna work but i’m not just gonna lay around in bed all day,” you tell him, and you leave the room to freshen up in the bathroom.

you hear a few footsteps that descend the staircase and you can’t help but peer over your shoulder to see who it is. it’s oscar. you’re seated at the kitchen island, and he’s just minding his own business as he retrieves something from his backpack it seems like, then he looks to you.

he’s kind. there’s a genuine smile on his face as he nods his head at you. “good morning,” he says.

he turns to leave and you try to return it, “good morning.” you clear your throat as you continue to watch him head upstairs. from there, you can see someone walking across the hall, just from their feet.

you can recognize his patterned socks. it’s drew.

“hey!” leila’s voice is a jumpscare and you can’t help but react quickly, facing forward like you’re a child getting caught stealing candy. leila laughs when she realizes she scared you. “sorry . . . i thought you heard me come in. are you ready?”

you’re dressed to go out to town, as leila said earlier that she wanted to visit the local market nearby. you nod your head at her and shuffle off of the chair.

“who’s driving?” drew asks as he jogs down the stairs and pulls his crewneck over his head. you barely cast a glance at his body before you look into his eyes, and he walks over. “am i?”

“yes—” leila tries to say before you cut in.

“you’re coming with us?” you ask. you don’t necessarily have a problem with it, it’s just why was it kept from you?

“problem?”

“i don’t know. is there one?” you furrow your eyebrows at him and tilt your head to the side, but you realize the way you’re talking to him.

he squints his eyes at you in question, then glances up at leila. he’s not sure whether you're teasing him or not, but he lets out a short, awkward laugh. “okay, let’s not get dramatic,” he says lightly.

leila, sensing the unease, smiles as she steps in. “i figured we could all go together! it’s a trio outing now! plus, you two are joined at the hip anyway.” she says it like it's the most natural thing, blissfully unaware of how the statement lands between you and drew.

you swallow the discomfort and force a smile as you get off the chair, grabbing your bag. drew’s eyes linger on you for a moment before he turns and follows you both out the door.

“careful,” he warns you about your blatant attitude.

you know he’s right, and you mutter out, “sorry.”

the car hums as you’re driven down to the beach market, then get out to enter. it’s not a huge deal being seen out in public together—you’ve done this before. but of course it’s different now. there’s something strange about holding drew’s hand when you know, deep down, it’s all for show. but you don't pull away.

when you reach the town, you spot a few people recognizing you—actors always catch eyes, even in quieter towns like this one. drew stays close, his hand still gripping yours, a comfortable smile playing on his lips as the three of you wander around.

a couple of fans approach you, their faces lighting up at the sight of you and drew together. “oh my god, i loved you two in hellraiser! this feels like a dream," one of them gushes, and for a split second, you feel drew’s hand squeeze yours tighter.

you try to play it off, laughing softly as you and him pose for a quick picture with the younger girl.

after, drew steps beside you, leaning forward with his hands behind his back as a few record him. “we’re glad you enjoyed it,” he says, flashing his grin. you feel a familiar flutter in your stomach, a reminder of all those moments you used to share during press events like this.

another girl beams, and what seems like her mother is standing there with her, “you look even prettier in person! can we take another photo?”

“of course!” you laugh, and you part from drew to tend to the few of them.

drew is just standing a few feet away, his gaze locked on you. his expression is unreadable—something between admiration and something deeper, something heavier.

leila catches onto his lingering stare, and she approaches him with a smirk, nudging his arm. “you’re staring,” she teases, her tone light. drew blinks and breaks his gaze, glancing down at leila like he’s been caught.

“was not,” he mutters. his eyes flick back to you for a second, but he quickly looks away again.

leila’s inspecting a few trinkets before glancing back at him, a knowing look on her face. “you’re a terrible liar, you know,” she says. “you’re staring, and don’t think i didn’t notice at the firepit either.”

drew shifts uncomfortably, trying to find a way to defend himself. “okay, well yeah, because she’s my girlfriend!” he says a little too loud, and even you look up at him and furrow your eyebrows before returning to what you’re doing.

“okay, i’m joking. god, please lighten up. you can stare at your girlfriend all you want. who cares?” she says, waving a hand dismissively. “is everything good with you two?”

drew hesitates, glancing over at you as you smile politely at another fan. “yeah, everything’s fine,” he says, the words coming out too quickly. “why wouldn’t it be?”

leila narrows her eyes, watching him closely. “i don’t know, you’re acting a little . . . weird. normally, you’re more laid-back when she’s off and doing stuff on her own. but lately, you’ve been all . . . protective. intense, even.” she pauses, studying his face. “is something going on?”

he rubs the back of his neck. “no, we’re good. we’re good.”

leila hums, her fingers tracing one of the bracelets on a stall table. “you know, i talked to y/n last night,” she says carefully, her voice soft. “she said you guys have been stressed with work lately, but that everything’s good between you. still . . . i don’t know, something feels off. you both seem a little . . . distant.” she gives him a gentle nudge. “i’m not trying to pry, but i just want to make sure you’re okay. i already asked her, so now i’m asking you.”

drew stiffens slightly, but forces a small laugh, trying to brush it off. “yeah, work has been a lot lately. it’s probably just that—stress, you know? juggling schedules, auditions, appearances . . . it’s hard to get time for ourselves.”

“i get that. trust me, theo and i have been there too with our careers. it can get messy, but...” she trails off, giving him a sincere look. “you and y/n have always had something really special. and i know it’s not my business, but if something’s really bothering you—or her—you guys should talk it out. don’t let it fester.”

he shifts on his feet, the words striking closer than he’d like. he nods, though, appreciating her concern. “yeah, you’re right. i know we need to talk more, make time for that.”

leila smiles, “good. i’m here for both of you, okay? if you need to blow off steam or talk, don’t hesitate. i can tell there’s more going on than just ‘work stress,’ but i trust you’ll figure it out.”

drew forces a grin, trying to play it cool. “thanks, lei. we’ll be fine.”

leila holds his gaze for a moment longer, then nods as she steps back toward the vendor. “you better be. you guys are a strong power couple around here,” she jokes lightly.

as she glances over drew’s shoulder, her gaze settles on a nearby flower shop across the street. she doesn’t say anything, but her eyes linger, then shift back to him. there’s a soft smile playing on her lips, and she raises her brows in a silent suggestion.

he follows her line of sight, his eyes landing on the shop. it takes him a second, but he gets it. leila doesn’t need to say the words. he knows exactly what she’s trying to tell him.

“really?” he asks, dropping his smile. “you’re playing wingman?”

“wingwoman, but you know.” she gives a small, almost teasing shrug. “i mean, they’re her favorite, right? might not fix everything, but it’s a start. little things, drew.”

his eyes flick back to the shop, an old habit of buying you flowers bubbling up in his chest. “yeah, she always liked those kinds of flowers,” he murmurs, half to himself.

he nods, muttering a quiet “thanks” under his breath, as leila gives him a knowing smile before turning back to browse a nearby stall.

drew makes his way over to the flower shop, eyes scanning for your favorite blooms. the vendor helps him put together a simple yet thoughtful bouquet, and drew can't help but feel anxious but hopeful.

a few minutes later, he looks for you amongst everyone. you’ve already found leila, as you two inspect something on a stand just a few stalls down. you must not have seen drew when he was handling the flowers.

he makes his way over, and his presence is warm behind you that causes you to peer over your shoulder. you’re startled when you realize there’s actually someone there, and he’s so close. you immediately notice the flowers.

your eyebrows lift in amusement as he grins. “oh, what’s this?” you ask, your tone teasing, though there's a flicker of surprise behind your eyes.

drew holds the bouquet out, his voice soft. “for you,” he says. “maybe to make the day a little better.”

you look at the flowers, hesitating for a second before taking them. there’s a small warmth in your chest that you try to suppress, but it shows in the way your lips twitch upward into a faint smile. “thank you,” you say quietly, studying the flowers briefly before your gaze shifts back to him.

you can’t help but wrap your open arm around his neck and pull him close. his gesture is sweet and unexpected. drew’s arms finds your waist before he’s hugging you back, even tighter, but trying to be polite with how long he squeezes you.

you feel bold, and you lean away from him before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. it’s brief, almost hesitant, but enough to make drew’s breath get caught in his throat for a second.

as you pull away, you notice his glance toward leila, who's standing just a few feet away, pretending to be deeply engrossed in whatever she's holding. but she can’t hide the small wink she throws his way when he meets her gaze, a playful, silent “you're welcome” before she turns back around.

you catch it at the very last second and your mouth gapes open, so you take a step back. “are you two conspiring now?” you ask, in fake shock.

he chuckles softly. “just trying to be a good boyfriend.”

“mhm,” you murmur, but your smile lingers, and you look up at him to mumble a small “thank you” again, to which he waves it off like it’s nothing. even though you're hesitant, you can't deny that the gesture worked—at least a little.

@rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @itsamegazaddysworld @willowpains