#And an age range I think they were when they got married

[rxqueenotd]

damnatio memoriae: PART V

In the Roman world, damnatio memoriae was used to describe a range of actions taken against former leaders and their reputations. These actions included: defacing visual depictions, removing heads from public statues, chiseling names off inscriptions, and destroying coins.

summary: reader, who goes by 'Prima', was raised by a powerful Roman consul, under the reign of Imperator Septimius Severus. When it comes time for his eldest son, Caracalla, to marry again, a chain of events is set off, changing the course of Prima's life and the lives around her.

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warnings: blood, knife play (?), foul language, pnv penetration, BDSM-ish situations, bloodletting, wlw, drug use, digital penetration, Ancient Rome as a warning within itself.

notes: there are 12,437 words in this chapter alone. I would apologize for not posting for a month, but as you can see, I have been cooking. Made it through Christmas, Hanukkah, my birthday, new years, the fucking dystopian US election, got accepted back to college to try for my bachelors in a totally different sphere than the degree I already hold and let a Leo man take me for a ride all within thirty days so if this chapter is not to your liking, lie to me and tell you love it anyways. As always, thanks to @trashmouth-richie for listening to my ramblings and feeding me words of encouragement. You are my brotha for life. And to @londonfog-chan for putting up with my perpetual absence as I’ve been riding the rollercoaster that has been January. This chapter has been a labor of love but I think it might be my favorite so far. Enjoy!

V

Caracalla departed hastily, leaving you alone after taking you against the wall, his voice ringing with authority as he barked commands to his guards as he exited your chambers. He was intent on visiting a local taberna, and you felt a twinge of sympathy for the patrons and the staff of the venue of his choosing. The thought of anyone crossing his path in such a foul mood stirred a sense of unease within you, for you knew the trouble that often accompanied him in such a state.

Sleep found you swiftly, even after the events you had endured. You weren’t sure how long you had slept when your chamber door creaked open, revealing Caracalla’s silhouette in the doorway. He lurched inside, bracing himself against the wall as he swayed, then marched toward the bed with determination.

Hastily, he tore his tunic over his head, tossing it aside with little care, followed by his jewels, which he flung onto the chaise beside the bed. Once fully undressed, he climbed in beside you, rolling onto his side to mirror your position. The scent of wine clung to him as he pulled you closer, clumsily reaching for the hem of your sleeping gown to lift it from your body. You arched and moved as needed, assisting him in his endeavor. When you were laid bare before him, he drew you closer into his embrace, his hand grasped your thigh to drape it over his own. You inhaled sharply as his lips brushed over the tender bite mark he had left upon you, remaining still, wary that such a simple gesture might provoke him or send him into a fit of rage.

He nestled his head beneath your chin, pressing your body as close to his as possible, his breath settled into a steady rhythm as he relaxed.

“Tell me you love me.” His hoarse voice spoke softly against the column of your throat.

You sighed, thinking of a million things you would rather say.

“Tell me, Prima,” he leaned up, untucking his head, blue eyes piercing yours, “tell me you love me.”

“Lucius-,” you started, but stopped when a small smile cracked across his lips, a light chuckle falling out from behind them.

“Lucius,’” he parroted back to you, followed by his signature giggle, “it has been ages since I have been called that.”

You let a silence descend around the two of you, hoping he would drop the matter entirely, but he continued to stare at you expectantly.

“I love you. Now please go to sleep.”

With that he was content to reposition himself, breath reaching a steady rhythm against the tender flesh of your neck.

You found yourself thinking that perhaps this was why he surrounded himself with courtesans, like a collection of soothing melodies for his restless soul. Each woman a different remedy for his erratic moods. Then you realized that it mattered not, that they were gone, and the only thing left in their wake was you. A blessing and a curse. A heavy feeling swept over you, followed by a bout of light sleep.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

You awakened on your back, entirely naked, a thin linen sheet barely covering your form. Sunlight streamed in from the balcony, and you swiftly shielded your eyes, groaning at the brightness that pierced your sleepy vision. Heavy footfalls approached, and the sheet was suddenly yanked away.

“My father summoned you an hour past,” Caracalla declared bluntly. “Yet you lie here, sprawled out like a weary whore.”

You groaned, burying your face deeper into the pillow.

“Leave me be to awaken properly,” you murmured, your voice muffled against the fabric.

“That is not possible,” he replied, reaching down to roll you over, pinching your nipple as he dragged you upright.

You yelped, swatting his hand away. He chuckled, a sound both throaty and high-pitched, echoing through your bedchamber as he backed away, holding the sheet with both hands.

You sat upright, narrowing your eyes at him. “Give me that,” you snapped, lunging forward to grab the sheet.

He sidestepped, holding it just out of reach with a smirk. “And here I thought you would be more gracious this morning.”

Ignoring his teasing, you reached again, this time managing to snag the edge of the fabric. With one sharp tug, you pulled it free from his grip, wrapping it around yourself as you stood.

“Out,” you commanded, pointing toward the door.

“Such gratitude for waking you,” he replied mockingly, backing away to give you space to get yourself together, ignoring your command.

You secured the sheet around your body and moved quickly to your wardrobe. You grabbed a plain linen robe, slipping it over your shoulders and tying it at the waist. The soft material was a stark contrast to the silk you often wore, but it would suffice.

The early morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting golden streaks across the marble floor. You quickly fastened your hair into a loose knot, pinning it in place with a bronze pin. You were out of time to indulge in the laziness the morning had offered.

The hallway was cool and quiet as you stepped out, the air brushing against your skin. Caracalla joined you without a word, falling into step as you navigated the twists and turns of the private residence. The faint scent of figs and incense lingered, mingling with the distant hum of servants going about their tasks.

Inside the Imperator’s quarters, the scene was surprisingly casual. Septimius lounged on a lectus, his feet wrapped in steaming cloths, hands resting across his chest as though he didn’t have a care in the world.

Geta stood near the terrace, wrapped in a silk robe, his back to the room. Sunlight spilled in through the open curtains, highlighting the slight tilt of his head as he gazed outside. At the sound of your entrance, he turned, his eyes sliding over you and Caracalla before landing on Septimius with an indifferent look.

“Ah, there you are,” Septimius said, waving you over. His tone was light, though his eyes had a way of lingering a little too long.

You moved to the lectus across from him, sitting carefully on the edge. Caracalla stayed behind it, silent but looming, his presence as steady as a beating heart.

Geta didn’t move from his spot by the terrace. His expression gave nothing away, but the weight of his gaze lingered a moment too long before he turned back toward the sunlight. The air in the room wasn’t hostile, but it wasn’t exactly friendly either- tension you’d come to expect in their presence.

Septimius leaned forward, crossing his arms with a casual air. “You know, it’s remarkable how you manage to navigate such stormy weather,” he said, his voice dripping with feigned admiration. “Not everyone can handle the complexities of family... or the occasional stormy temperament.” He chuckled lightly, but the glint in his eyes suggested he was enjoying the game.

“I am no stranger to stormy temperament,” you stated, your expression steady as you reached for a cup of wine sitting among a tray of fruits and cheese.

Septimius raised an eyebrow, his smile shifting slightly as he leaned in, clearly intrigued. “Ah, but rain can be quite the tempest, can’t it? I admire your confidence. It takes a certain... resilience to weather it.” His tone was playful, but the underlying challenge was unmistakable.

You took a sip of the wine, letting it settle before responding. “Resilience is a necessity in a world like this. One must learn to enjoy the rain, or risk being swept away.” You glanced at Geta, who seemed to be absorbing the conversation from his spot by the terrace, his expression still unreadable.

“Wise words,” Septimius replied, his voice smooth as silk. “But I must wonder—what happens when the storm grows too fierce? Do you still enjoy it, or do you seek shelter?” He leaned back slightly, his gaze intense, as if he were gauging your every reaction.

You could feel the tension in the air, but you were determined to hold your ground. “Sometimes, shelter is just an illusion. It’s better to face the storm head-on than to hide away and hope it passes.”

Septimius chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the exchange. “A bold stance, indeed. I do appreciate your spirit. It makes for quite the captivating conversation.”

“Get on with it,” Caracalla huffed from behind you, impatience dripping from his words. “What business brings us here?”

Geta turned, arms crossed tightly over his chest, glancing between Caracalla and Septimius with a look of expectation.

“You have acted like children, reckless and foolish,” Septimius began, his tone shifting as he sat up, the gravity of his words settling in the room. He fixed his gaze on Caracalla, speaking over your head, “You cavort with whores right under our noses, and the whole of Rome bears witness to your folly. The taberna you visited last night was paranoid by your presence, and this morning, the staff and patrons are buzzing with tales of your indiscretions.”

“And let me guess,” Caracalla interjected, a smirk creeping onto his face, “Your faithful hound, Macrinus, has kept you well informed of the situation.”

Macrinus appeared at the terrace, a shadowy figure emerging into the room. You realized then what had drawn Geta’s gaze.

“It seems that by merely uttering his name, I have conjured him,” Caracalla remarked with a sarcastic laugh, clearly enjoying the unfolding drama.

Macrinus raised his hands, palms outward, a sign of mock surrender. He stepped forward with careful deliberation, stopping beside the lectus where Septimius lounged. Folding his hands in front of him, he inclined his head slightly.

“I am here by request,” Macrinus said, his tone calm but firm, “not to meddle in the quarrels of the Imperial household.” He tugged the edge of his toga across his shoulder, smoothing the fabric around him.

“And yet,” Caracalla cut in, moving closer to you, his voice sharper than a soldier’s blade, “here you are.”

Geta cocked his head to one side, studying Macrinus with a faint smirk. The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the rustle of fabric as Geta moved closer.

“It is at my order that he is here, brother,” Geta said, spitting the word brother like it left a bad taste in his mouth.

You turned, casting a glance over your shoulder at Caracalla. Confusion flickered across your face as your gaze darted to meet his, searching for answers in his eyes.

“What is this about?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, though suspicion tugged at your tone.

“The empire needs an heir,” Septimius said sharply, his words cutting through the air like the crack of a whip. “It is your one duty—to give Rome a future. Yet here we are, without a successor, or any sign that one is to come. Is it your husband’s endless whoring that is to blame, or your taste for plotting with your maids to carry out your schemes? I know not, and frankly, I do not care. What I do know is that this cannot continue.”

His accusation hit like a slap, the air thickening around you. He had seen more than he let on, unraveling the plan you thought he had believed so easily.

“And now,” Caracalla murmured, his hand tightening on your shoulder, “you understand. He will extend the hand of favor even as he holds a dagger to your throat.”

Your jaw tightened, your gaze snapping back to Septimius. The weight of his scrutiny weighed down on you, but you met it with steel in your eyes. Whatever game he thought he played, you would not yield so easily.

“And yet, despite your shared transgressions, you two would make a match worthy of the gods themselves—if only you could cease your scheming against one another long enough to see it,” Septimius declared, his tone edged with amusement. “But because of those very transgressions, you shall both spend the remainder of the season in Baiae.”

His words hung heavy in the air, and you turned your gaze to Caracalla, whose face was a storm of fury.

“Exile?” Caracalla spat through gritted teeth. “You would exile the Augustus? The emperor of Rome?”

“How many times must I remind you,” Septimius said as he rose, his movements slow but deliberate. Geta stepped forward to steady him, while Macrinus bowed and retreated. “You are Augustus and emperor only by my will, Marcus.”

The lectus creaked as Caracalla lunged forward, but Geta steadied himself between Septimius and Caracalla, while Macrinus seized Caracalla by the shoulder, hauling him back. Amidst the sudden chaos, you realized your hand had found Caracalla’s, and his grip tightened with such ferocity that you feared your bones might snap.

Even in his weakened state, his feet swollen and discolored like a venomous wound, Septimius’s grin was sharp and unyielding.

“Perhaps a new line of succession is what Rome truly needs.” This time, his gaze did not fall on you, but on Geta, as though he had plucked the very stars from the heavens.

“You serpent!” Caracalla roared at his brother, struggling against Macrinus’s newfound hold, his voice raw with betrayal. His grip on your hand grew tighter, a reflection of his seething rage.

Geta, unmoved, merely smiled as he returned to Septimius’s side, tending to the aging emperor with practiced ease.

“Leave me,” Septimius commanded with a languid wave of his hand, his voice cold and final.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

“What ails him, exactly?” you asked at last, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the carriage. The rhythmic creaking and jolting of the wheels, each bump in the road, seemed a constant reminder of your shared exile to Baiae.

Caracalla turned his gaze to you for the first time since the journey began, his expression shadowed. “His feet swell,” he said, his tone flat. “To sizes unimaginable. They blacken, as you saw—purple and crude.” He grimaced, as if the very memory sickened him, before turning his eyes back to the window. “And then there is the plague. The dregs of it, lingering from the last campaign. The bloodletting, the vomiting. It comes and goes, but when it comes...” He trailed off, his lip curling slightly.

You grimaced at the image he painted, wondering how the truth about the Imperator had been kept so carefully concealed.

“This is your doing, you know,” Caracalla said suddenly, his voice devoid of inflection, raspy and light, as though he were stating some mundane fact.

“How do you reason that?” you asked, genuinely curious despite the sting of the accusation.

“Your very presence disturbs the balance,” he replied, his gaze fixed on the passing countryside. “And that little scheme of yours—” He turned his head slightly, though his eyes did not meet yours. “Amateur. Endearing, almost, the way you thought you had fooled us all.”

“I believe,” you said, your voice calm but firm, “that regardless of my presence, this house would have toppled under the weight of its own mistakes.”

“Do you?” he asked, tilting his head, studying you now with a glint of something between skepticism and intrigue.

“I tire of this,” you continued, your voice steady but carrying an edge of frustration. When he turned to look at you, you continued, “The endless back and forth. I wish you would decide whether you like me or loathe me.”

He laughed, his signature cackle, the corners of his lips curling into a knowing smirk. “Ah, but you will come to learn, dear wife,” he said, his tone laced with sardonic amusement, “that those two are often one and the same.”

“Macrinus,” you let his name roll off your tongue as you searched your memory. “I cannot say he is familiar to me.”

“He wouldn’t be,” Caracalla replied, his voice carrying a tone of indifference. “He was a slave in the reign of Marcus Aurelius, earned his freedom in the arena.”

“An extraordinary feat,” you remarked, glancing at him. “And his influence upon your father? What of that?”

Caracalla shrugged, shifting lower against the cushioned bench, his gaze wandering to the hills rolling past the window. The faint scent of cypress filtered into the carriage through the open slits. Outside, the road stretched ahead, bordered by rows of olive trees.

“The Garmantian campaign,” he began, his voice heavy with recollection. “A few years ago. Macrinus advised my father then. His blood ties him to that land, or so he claims—descended from those desert tribes.”

You nodded, studying him as the sunlight flickered over his pallid features. He turned back to you, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if wondering whether you deserved to know more.

“I led my first unit there,” he continued, almost reluctantly. “Macrinus was at my side. Geta—useless as ever—remained with father, an onlooker on a high ridge above the battle. A coward in all but name.” His lips curled into a sardonic smile. “He spent the rest of his time hidden away with the other scribes and so-called strategists, poring over scrolls instead of wielding a sword. A fitting place for him—among the weak and the overcautious.”

“He—” You shook your head, the words catching in your throat. You tried to push the thought away, to banish it to the shadows of your mind. But Caracalla was not one to let things lie.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice low and sharp, like the scrape of a blade against stone. He leaned forward, his piercing gaze locking onto you as he reached out, fingers closing around your wrist with an iron grip. You reflexively tried to pull away, but his strength overpowered yours, dragging your hand back into his grasp.

“He is the one who told me about your courtesans,” you confessed, the words spilling out before you could reconsider. Your eyes darted anywhere but to his face, tracing the fine carvings on the wooden frame of the carriage, the dusty light filtering through its windows. “He showed me where you were that night—the last night you spent with them. I... I watched for a while, but I left when I had seen enough.”

For a moment, silence hung heavy between you. Then, with a snarl of disgust, he flung your hand aside, as if the very touch of you burned. His fist slammed into the roof of the carriage with such force that the wood creaked in protest, the sound echoing around you like a thunderclap.

“Stop!” he barked, his voice cut through the air. The driver obeyed instantly, pulling the horses to an abrupt halt. The jolt threw you forward, your palms bracing against the edge of the seat as the wheels ground to a halt on the gravel road.

You watched as Caracalla flung the carriage door open with a force that made the hinges groan. In a single, fluid motion, he bounded down the steps and onto the packed gravel. Two guards immediately stepped forward, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords, their faces unreadable but watchful.

Alarmed, you slid closer to the window, gripping its edge. “What are you doing? What madness is this?”

“Horse!” he roared, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the countryside like a war cry. Moments later, a white stallion was led into view by a nervous stablehand, its mane gleaming like ivory under the midday sun.

You leaned farther out, your voice urgent. “Have you lost your senses? What has gotten into you?”

He ignored you, mounting the stallion with the practiced ease. From atop the horse, he turned his gaze back to you—a look of pure disdain etched into his face.

“I will see you in Baiae,” he spat, his tone laced with venom. Without waiting for a reply, he spurred the stallion into motion.

You could only watch as the beast surged forward, its hooves pounding against the earth, kicking up a cloud of dust that swirled in the air long after it had gone. The guards scrambled to follow, their own horses hurriedly prepared, but Caracalla was already disappearing into the horizon, leaving behind the echo of his fury.

Inside the now-emptied carriage, the silence pressed down on you, broken only by the distant cries of cicadas and the soft rustle of the olive trees.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Caracalla stayed gone for three days. On the third night, he finally returned, stumbling into the villa, drunker than a deckhand. His tunic was crooked, his hair disheveled, and he reeked of wine.

“Did you have fun while I sat alone?” you asked, not bothering to glance up from the scroll in your hands.

He stopped mid-stride, squinting at you with furrowed brows. His eyes landed on you, stretched out on the lectus, one foot dangling off the edge, your toes curling lazily as if you hadn’t a care in the world.

“You’re never alone,” he said flatly, his voice slurred, the sour tang of wine thick in the air around him.

“True,” you replied with a shrug, “but that is not the point.”

You rolled up the scroll with a sharp snap, the sound echoing through the atrium like a whip crack.

“Where have you been?” you demanded, your voice cutting through the quiet. “We were sent here for one reason: for me to conceive. Not for you to run around town acting like a whoring drunkard.”

You knew full well where he had been. Metella had been your eyes for the first two days, tailing him to the seedier corners of the city—brothels, taverns, gambling dens. By the third day, her reports were unnecessary. The smell of him now told you enough. Meanwhile, Cassia had stayed behind to tend to you, watching as you fumed, pacing the villa with balled fists.

Caracalla’s mouth twisted into a smirk, his flushed face shining in the lamplight. “You’ve grown bold, haven’t you?” he said, his tone mocking as he leaned against a marble column for balance. “What is it, cara mea? Have you grown bored of the luxury and servants here that you now pass the time by scolding me?”

You stood from the lectus, smoothing your stola with deliberate calm, the sound of the fabric brushing against the mosaic floor louder than it should have been.

“Luxury?” you snapped, stepping closer until you could see the hazy glaze in his eyes. “Do not mistake my patience for contentment. While you waste our time and fortune, the empire waits. Rome waits. You were sent here to do your duty, not to disgrace yourself in taverns and brothels. Or would you prefer I send word to Rome that Caracalla has no interest in producing heirs? That he remains flaccid?”

His smirk faded, and his hand shot out, gripping your wrist. It wasn’t rough, but it was firm enough to send a message. “You tread dangerous ground,” he growled, his voice low and menacing.

“And so do you,” you shot back, refusing to flinch. “But unlike you, I know how to keep my balance.”

For a long moment, the two of you stared at each other, the tension stretching thin. Then, his grip loosened, and he let your wrist fall.

“Fine,” he muttered, brushing past you, his steps uneven as he headed toward his quarters. “I’ll do what is required. But do not think for a moment you control me.”

You stood there in the silence, your wrist tingling where his hand had been. When his footsteps faded, you let out a slow breath, your face hardening.

It was only a moment later that you heard the sharp whinny of a horse and the steady thud of hooves on sand. With a grunt, you hauled yourself to the balcony, gripping the iron railing as you leaned out. Your eyes widened in disbelief as you spotted Caracalla, riding off into the darkening horizon. He was headed straight for the heart of the night’s chaos—the very center of hedonism and excess.

Hurling yourself from the railing, your bare feet slipping across the cool floor, you swiftly secured your sandals, the straps biting into your skin as you hurried down to the atrium. At the grand doorway, two guards stood at attention.

“Ready my horse,” you commanded, your voice firm as you draped the light folds of your palla loosely around your neck, a gesture that spoke of both urgency and authority.

One of the guards faltered, his eyes widening as though struck dumb by your words. “Do your ears fail you?” you snapped, your tone sharpened with impatience. “I said, ready my horse!”

“My lady, you cannot ride into the city,” the elder of the two guards replied, his voice steady though his posture betrayed hesitation. The younger guard straightened, his eyes darting nervously around, as if afraid to meet your gaze for long. “It is unseemly for one of your rank to travel without accompaniment, let alone on horseback.”

You closed your eyes, drawing a measured breath before exhaling sharply, a brisk sigh of exasperation.

“If you wish for the household slaves to find your corpse in the ocean and your head upon the beach come dawn, then by all means, ignore my command.”

The elder guard hesitated, his jaw tightening briefly before he turned on his heel, striding with purpose through the atrium and vanishing through the side passage that led to the stables.

The younger guard remained rooted in place, attempting to maintain composure. You began pacing the mosaic-tiled floor, your sandals echoing softly in the vast space as your hands twisted together. Frustration burned within you, like a wildfire sweeping through dry plains, all encompassing, devastating.

When the elder guard reappeared in the doorway, you strode past him without a word. Outside, the pale horse stood waiting. With practiced grace, you swung onto its back, dismissing the guard's offered hand as though it were an insult.

“I never intended to ride into the city alone, Praetorian,” you said, casting a sharp glance down the bridge of your nose at him. “The two of you will accompany me—if you can keep up.”

Without waiting for a reply, you tightened your grip on the reins and urged the horse forward. The stallion responded instantly, surging into motion as the dull nudge of your sandal found its mark against its flank.

The night wind tore at your palla as the world became a blur of shadow and moonlit sand. The rhythmic thud of hooves against the earth echoed like a battle drum. The roar of the distant sea mingled with the hiss of sand kicked up in your wake, but you paid it no mind.

Glancing back, you caught sight of the two Praetorians scrambling to mount their own steeds. Their movements seemed clumsy compared to your own, and you allowed yourself a fleeting smirk of satisfaction. If they meant to follow, they would have to earn their place at your side.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Baiae stretched out before you as the horse’s hooves hit cobblestone. The city shimmered even in the moonlight, its white marble villas gleaming like polished pearls, their red-tiled roofs descending toward the sea. Steam rose in ghostly plumes from the famed baths, filling the air with the smell of sulfur and salt.

As you rode deeper, the streets grew narrower, lined with colonnades that framed courtyards filled with flickering oil lamps. Laughter spilled out from wine-soaked feasts, the hymns of a lyre mingling with the rhythmic clapping of dancers. Even at this late hour, Baiae did not sleep.

To your right, the black expanse of the sea was alive with reflected light, where torch-lit barges and private vessels floated lazily. Beyond them, the looming shadow of Mount Vesuvius stood silent. The Praetorians, ever watchful, followed your lead as you turned down a quieter street, away from the bustle of the forums and toward the private quarter. The hum of activity dimmed, replaced by the presence of towering gates and high walls.

You slowed your horse as the entrance to your destination came into view—a grand domus perched high on a hill. The vast bronze gates were adorned with intricate mouldings of Neptune and his trident, and from beyond them came the faint sound of water cascading into a central atrium fountain. You had been here before, as a child, remembering its purpose and what you had witnessed of its opulence.

This was not the domain of commoners but of those whose power carried the fortunes of Rome itself.

“Guard the gate,” you instructed, your tone leaving no room for argument. You handed the reins to a waiting slave and stepped forward, the weight of the night’s purpose settling on your shoulders.

You paused at the gates of the grand domus, but before you could step forward, the elder Praetorian dismounted and approached, his expression unreadable.

“My lady,” he began cautiously, his voice low to avoid drawing the attention of the slaves nearby. “This is not where you will find him.”

Your gaze snapped to his, sharp and questioning. “Explain yourself.”

The Praetorian’s jaw tightened. “He…” The words hung uneasily in the air, “He resides elsewhere in Baiae—at an establishment by the lower harbor.”

You studied him for a moment, noting the flicker of discomfort in his demeanor. Finally, you gave a nod. “Then you will lead me there. Now.”

“As you command, Domina,” he said, bowing slightly before striding back to his horse. The younger Praetorian exchanged a nervous glance with you before following suit.

Once mounted, the elder guard took the lead, guiding you down winding streets that grew increasingly narrow and shadowed. The splendor of Baiae began to give way to a more primal energy. The laughter was harsher, the music seductive. The lower harbor stretched out before you. Tabernas and brothels clustered together, their facades painted in deep colors, their entrances crowded with figures cloaked in secrecy and sex. Men bellowed drunkenly, women beckoned from balconies draped in rich silks, and shadows moved between doorways.

The Praetorian pulled his horse to a stop before a particular building—modest compared to the grand villas of the upper city, yet unmistakably high class for its kind. Its doorway was framed by carved columns, and a faint, seductive melody drifted out.

“This is the place,” the elder guard said, dismounting and stepping aside. His expression was carefully neutral, though his clenched fists showed his discomfort.

You slid off your horse, handing the reins to the younger guard. The flickering light from a brazier near the entrance cast golden hues across your face as you stepped toward the door, the faint hum of voices and laughter growing louder with each step.

“Wait here,” you ordered, your voice firm. The Praetorians hesitated, exchanging a glance, but obeyed, remaining by the doorway.

Pushing aside the heavy curtain that covered the entrance, you stepped into the warmth and haze of the brothel. The air was thick with incense and wine, the light dim but gilded, as though the entire room were lost in a fog. Figures reclined on cushions and couches, their forms draped in flowing fabrics, their laughter rich and unrestrained.

Laughter rippled through the air, sharp and boisterous, as men gambled at low tables, surrounded by women who hung on their every word. You kept your face neutral, though anger simmered in your chest. As you stepped deeper into the room, making your way through clusters of loungers and revelers, your gaze caught on a scene at the far end of the chamber.

There he was.

Caracalla lounged at a table, his tunic loosely belted, his posture relaxed. His profile was illuminated by the golden light, the faint glint of rings on his fingers catching your eye as he threw dice onto the table with a triumphant laugh. The men around him roared with approval—or fear—it was difficult to tell.

What caught your attention more was the woman draped across his lap, her arm lazily curled around his neck. Her hair, pinned in loose waves, framed a face disturbingly familiar. Her features bore an uncanny resemblance to your own—enough to make your breath catch in your throat. She leaned into him, laughing softly as she whispered something in his ear.

Your stomach twisted, rage and disbelief stirring within you. For a moment, you stood stuck to the spot, your veil slipping further down your neck as you struggled to maintain your composure.

“My lady, are you lost?”

The voice startled you. A woman with a painted face and a sheer stola approached, her expression one of concern. Her kohl-lined eyes searched yours, and her hand reached out to gently touch your arm. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said softly, her tone maternal despite her surroundings. “It is dangerous to wander too close to him.”

You blinked, your focus shifting to her. “Dangerous?” you repeated, your voice calm but cold.

Her grip on your arm tightened ever so slightly as she leaned in, lowering her voice. “He’s not a man to trifle with. Especially not for a lady like you.” She glanced over her shoulder toward Caracalla, as if fearful he might see her speaking to you. “Come, I’ll take you somewhere safe before he notices you.”

You stiffened, pulling your arm free. “Do you know who I am?” you asked, your words sharp.

The woman hesitated, her brows furrowing slightly. “No, my lady, but it doesn’t matter. You’re too fine to be here.” Her gaze flicked to your attire, the richness of your fabric setting you apart from everyone else in the room. “You don’t want his attention, believe me. It will ruin you.”

Her words only fanned the flames of your fury. Your eyes drifted back toward Caracalla, who was oblivious to your presence, his focus entirely on the woman perched in his lap.

Your jaw tightened, and your hands clenched into fists at your sides.

The woman hesitated, her painted lips parting as though to protest. Taking pause, she stepped closer, her expression softening with concern.

“Caracalla is not the kind of man a woman like you should ever let too close. He... plays games. Dangerous ones.”

You frowned as her words sent a chill through you. “What do you mean by that?”

She tilted her head, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder like silk. She seemed to hesitate, wondering how much to reveal. Then she leaned back slightly, her expression grave, yet seductive.

“He has... peculiar appetites,” she said carefully, her voice almost teasing, her eyes betraying the seriousness of her words. “He likes to test people. Push them to their limits. He likes to play with swords—not just on the battlefield. He enjoys seeing how far he can go before someone breaks.”

You stiffened, the insinuation settling in your stomach. “What are you saying?”

Her lips curved into a slow, almost feline smile. “He enjoys pain. Giving it, taking it. There are whispers, my lady. Whispers of him bleeding women just to see how much they can endure. For his amusement. For his... pleasure.”

The air between you seemed to grow colder despite the warmth of the room. Your breath caught in your throat, a thousand questions circling your mind, but you couldn’t find the words.

“Wait,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost pleading. “You look unwell, Domina. Come with me—just for a moment. Some fresh air will do you good.”

You opened your mouth to dismiss her, but she took your arm again, this time more gently, and began guiding you back through the crowded room.

The din of laughter and gambling faded behind you as she led you through a side door, out into the cool night.

You found yourself standing in a small courtyard, enclosed by ivy-covered walls. A single olive tree stood at its center, its leaves shimmering faintly in the moonlight. The sounds of the brothel were distant now, muffled by the stone walls, leaving only the soft rustle of leaves and the distant crash of waves to fill the silence.

“Wait here,” the woman said, releasing your arm and disappearing briefly through another doorway. When she returned, she held a small clay cup of wine, the dark liquid sloshing slightly as she walked.

Her movements were fluid, as though she belonged more to the shadows than the smoky room she had found you in. Her piercing eyes studied you as she handed you the cup of wine, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity.

You accepted the cup, though you did not drink immediately. “You haven’t told me your name,” you said, your voice steadier.

She blinked, surprised, then gave a small smile. “Prosperina,” she said. “It’s what they call me here.”

Her eyes, sheer and piercing, were an unearthly shade of blue, a stark contrast against her tanned complexion.

“Why do you care if I am well?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

Prosperina hesitated, then shrugged. “Because I have seen what happens to women who cross his path.” She gestured vaguely to the brothel. “They’re drawn in, thinking they’ll find something—power, protection, even love. But he’s not a man who gives. He takes.” Her voice softened. “And you don’t belong here. Anyone can see that.”

You glanced down at the cup in your hands, the wine’s surface rippling faintly in the breeze.

“Do you have anything stronger?” you asked, your tone cool but deliberate.

Her painted lips parted in surprise, then curved into a faint smile, a flicker of amusement dancing in her gaze. “You don’t strike me as the type to indulge, my lady,” she said softly.

You raised an eyebrow, meeting her eyes with a look that left no room for argument. “Tonight is an exception.”

Prosperina studied you for a long moment, her gaze calculating, as though weighing whether she should agree. Finally, she nodded, the golden bracelets on her wrists clinking softly as she turned. “Come with me,” she said, her voice low and inviting.

She led you through a narrow passage on the side of the courtyard. A small doorway opened into her quarters. The walls were painted with faded frescoes of nymphs and satyrs, the colors dulled by time. A low couch covered in silken throws occupied the center, while an assortment of small, clay jars and glass vials lined a wooden table nearby.

Her sheer gown clung to her curves like a second skin as she leaned against the edge of the table in her quarters, the lamplight highlighting the rich tan of her skin and the piercing ice-blue of her eyes. She studied you with a gaze that seemed to see more than it should, her lips curving into a faint, knowing smile.

She held up a pipe delicately, her fingers adorned with gold rings that caught the light. The gesture was casual and playful, but there was confidence in her tone, as though she already knew your answer.

When you hesitated, her smile deepened, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that,” she teased, moving closer. “I don’t bite—unless you would like me to.”

She moved like a cat, her steps deliberate and silent, her gaze never leaving yours. When she extended the pipe toward you, her fingers brushed yours, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

“Go on,” she urged, her voice dropping to a whisper. “It will help you forget, just for a little while.”

Prosperina tilted her head, her lips curving into a sly smile as she held the pipe closer. “A bold woman deserves bold choices,” she murmured, her voice low and inviting. “Breathe in. Let go of everything else.”

Without a word, you lifted the pipe to your lips and inhaled deeply, the smoke burning slightly as it filled your lungs.

The effect was instant. Your chest tightened for a heartbeat before a rush of warmth spread throughout your body, followed by a dizzying sensation that sent you sprawling backward onto the plush couch. The room seemed to tilt and spin, the dim lamp light splitting into ribbons of gold that danced across the walls.

Shapes and colors began to swirl, cascading like liquid through your vision, while Prosperina’s voice became an echo, far away yet hauntingly close. “There it is,” she purred, leaning over you, her dark hair cascading like a curtain around her face. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

You blinked, but the world refused to focus. Shadows danced and shifted, morphing into figures that were familiar and strange. You saw flashes of faces—some from memory, others from dreams. The air felt electric against your skin.

Prosperina knelt beside you, her fingers brushing your temple as she studied you with fascination. “You’re caught between worlds now,” she whispered, her voice velvety and hypnotic. “Do you feel it?”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, a strange, breathless laugh escaped, the sound foreign even to your own ears. Your body felt weightless, as though the couch beneath you had disappeared.

“Relax,” Prosperina cooed, her touch sliding down your arm in a slow motion. “Let it take you. There’s no need to fight.”

The room twisted and blurred, melting into something unfamiliar, but familiar at the same time. Prosperina’s face hovered above you briefly, her sharp features smearing like wet paint before disappearing into the shadows. In their place, a figure emerged—a face both familiar and haunting. Geta.

His expression was soft, kind, the way you remembered it when you were children, before the weight of politics and betrayal had driven a wedge between everyone you had once cared for. His lips moved, though no sound came, his words carried away by the same wind that seemed to swirl through your mind.

“Geta,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, thick with longing and confusion. You reached for him, but your hand passed through his form like smoke, the edges of his figure distorting before re-forming. His eyes—so familiar, so painfully warm—locked with yours. For a moment, you thought he might speak, but the image shifted violently.

Suddenly, Caracalla’s face loomed in front of you, his blue eyes filled with anger and frustration. “What are you doing, Prima?” his voice boomed, though you couldn’t tell if it was real or imagined. “You think you can escape this? Escape me?”

The world around you shattered like glass, fragments of Caracalla’s image reforming. Now he was standing over you, his hand gripping your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You’re mine,” he said, his voice a growl, filled with something dangerous. “No matter what you tell yourself. No matter who you try to run to.”

You flinched, but the vision changed again. Geta reappeared, his expression now filled with sorrow as though he could see what you had become. He extended his hand, his mouth forming the words Come back to me, though you couldn’t hear him. The image of Caracalla stood behind him, watching with a mixture of rage and jealousy.

The two brothers began to blur together, their features morphing and overlapping until you couldn’t tell them apart. The figures around you spun faster, their voices rising in a symphony of anger, sorrow, and something else—something deeper and more primal, echoing through your bones.

Your chest tightened, the sensations pulsing through your body becoming almost unbearable. You gasped for air, your vision blurred, as a shadow loomed over you again. This time, it was Prosperina, her voice cutting through the confusion.

“Easy, Domina,” she murmured, her tone soothing yet laced with amusement. “You’re seeing the truth you’ve buried deep. Let it come. Let it free you.”

Prosperina’s piercing blue eyes locked onto yours as the swirling haze of the hallucinations ebbed and flowed like the Tiber. Her touch became firmer, her hand trailing from your arm to your shoulder, her fingers brushing the curve of your neck. The room felt distant, the visions melting into shadows as her presence anchored you back in the present.

“The gods have chosen you,” she whispered, her lips so close to your ear that her breath sent shivers down your spine. “And I can see why. You are a force.”

Prosperina’s hands moved along the length of your body, her touch tracing the curve of your waist. Her fingers slipped beneath the fabric of your stola, their warmth igniting a fire that burned through you. You gasped as her touch grew bolder, her hands exploring your skin with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

Your body arched instinctively into her as her pointer finger stroked your weeping slit, prying you open gently, her name escaping your lips in a whisper as your fingers tangled in her dark hair. Her touch was intoxicating, sending waves of pleasure through you, dull and aching.

She leaned closer, her breath hot against your ear. “Domina,” she murmured, her voice low, “you are divine.”

She worked you expertly, finding the spot within you that you had never known existed. Your cunt pulsated around her slender digits, eyes rolling closed, legs trembling. The pleasure was overwhelming, a pressure building within you that left you trembling, on the edge of something you had never experienced before.

Then, without warning, a cry escaped your lips. It echoed softly in the room, but it felt foreign, as if it belonged to someone else. But before you could experience the sensation– give it a name and truly define it– the door slammed open.

The sound shattered the moment like a roll of thunder. Your head snapped toward the doorway, your body stiffening as a wave of cold panic washed over you.

There, silhouetted in the flickering lamplight, stood Caracalla. His piercing eyes blazed with fury, his face twisted in an expression that was equal parts shock and rage.

“What is this?” he roared, his voice cutting through the room.

Prosperina froze, her hands still on you, though the warmth of her touch now felt like fire against your skin. She quickly withdrew, her movements sharp, as she turned to face him.

You sat up, your breathing ragged, your mind racing to catch up with what had just happened. The haze of the devil’s breath made it hard to think clearly, but the sight of Caracalla’s seething form brought you into the present.

“Answer me, Prima!” he snarled, his voice dripping with venom as he stepped into the room, his gaze darting between you and Prosperina.

Prosperina’s eyes flickered to you, a silent question flashed behind them, but she said nothing, her lips pressed into a tight line.

Caracalla’s fury filled the room, oppressive and suffocating. “My empress,” he spat, the word laced with mockery, “consorting with a whore? Do you have no shame?”

“Leave her out of this,” you said, your voice cold and commanding despite the tremors running through you.

Caracalla let out a harsh laugh, stepping closer, his expression that of twisted rage and cruel satisfaction. “Out of this? She was in you, Prima. Or were you going to pretend she wasn’t just defiling what belongs to me?”

The words hung in the air, cutting through the thick tension. Prosperina’s piercing blue eyes widened, flicking between you and the emperor.

“Empress?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. The color drained from her face as the full weight of what had just transpired crashed down on her. “You’re the empress?”

You turned your gaze to her, an unspoken apology crossed your features for the secret you’d let her unknowingly cross.

But the moment was short lived, shattered as Caracalla’s harsh laugh filled the room again. He gestured toward Prosperina with a flick of his hand. “Yes, Prosperina. Behold your empress—on her knees for you like a common slave.”

“Stop,” you said sharply, your voice cutting through his mocking tone.

As he reached out to grab you, the world around you seemed to tilt, and the ground beneath your feet felt unstable. The effects of the drug were too strong, and your head spun. You reached out to steady yourself but couldn’t find anything solid to hold on to.

“Stop,” you gasped, your legs buckling beneath you.

But Caracalla wasn’t interested in mercy. In one swift motion, he gripped you by the arm, his fingers tightening around your wrist with an iron grip. “You are coming with me,” he growled, dragging you out of the room with no consideration for your protests.

Your mind was a whirl of incoherent thoughts, and you stumbled as he pulled you through the corridors, your vision growing darker at the edges. The air felt thick, and you couldn’t focus—couldn’t think.

“Stop,” you tried again, but your voice was little more than a rasp.

Caracalla wasn’t listening. He half-carried, half-dragged you through the back entrance of the brothel and out into the courtyard. The cool night air bit at your skin, but it did nothing to clear the fog in your mind.

“Up,” Caracalla ordered, his voice harsh, commanding. He threw you onto a horse, and before you could protest or struggle, he was behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist with a grip like iron, holding you steady against him.

The world around you seemed to collapse as the horse jolted into motion. You could barely keep your eyes open, every movement sending another wave of dizziness through you. The drugs had taken hold fully now, and you felt detached from your own body, like you were watching yourself from far away.

Your body felt heavy, your head lolling against Caracalla’s chest.

“Don’t you dare pass out on me,” his voice snapped, sharp and commanding in your ear. His arm tightened around your waist, holding you firmly in place against him. “Stay awake, Prima. You wouldn’t want to miss this, would you?”

A weak sound escaped your lips, somewhere between a groan and a whimper. “Can’t...too much,” you murmured.

“Oh no, you don’t get to escape this,” he hissed, his tone low and cruel. “You’re not going to float away into whatever little fantasy that woman put into your head. You stay here—with me.”

You felt his lips brush the shell of your ear, not tenderly but deliberately, his words dripping with venom. “Do you think she could give you what I can? Hmm? Is that what you were dreaming about, Prima? Another woman’s touch? Or maybe it’s Geta, whispering sweet nothings to you while you drift away.”

You stirred weakly, your fingers curling against the reins.

“That’s it,” he continued, his voice a mix of mockery and seduction. “Stay awake. Don’t disappoint me now. Tell me, Prima—did you like it? Did you like the way she touched you? Or was it the thought of me finding you like that thrilled you?”

Your breath hitched, your head turning slightly as though to respond, but your thoughts were too scattered to form words. He laughed softly, a bitter, dark sound. “No clever reply? No self righteous fury? Maybe you’re finally realizing how easily you can be undone.”

His hand, steady on the reins, pressed against your thigh, his grip firm and possessive. “You don’t get to slip away, Prima. Not now, not ever. Whatever you felt back there, whatever fantasies she gave you, they’re nothing compared to what I can make you feel.”

The words were both a taunt and a promise. You shivered, your body betraying you as his breath brushed against your neck, sending a cold shiver down your spine.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice softer but no less dangerous. “Stay with me. You belong to me, Prima, whether you want to admit it or not.”

“Why?” The word slipped from your lips, barely a whisper.

Caracalla’s grip on your waist tightened slightly. “Why what?” he demanded, his tone sharp and impatient.

You took a shuddering breath, your voice trembling as you managed to form the words. “Why have you never made me feel like that before?”

He stiffened behind you, the tension in his body palpable. For a moment, the only sound was the rhythmic beat of the horse’s hooves against the ground, the weight of your question hanging heavily between you.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low and edged with frustration. “What are you asking me, Prima? Why I haven’t coddled you? Why I haven’t wasted time on fantasies and false promises?”

You turned your head slightly, your cheek brushing against his chest. “That’s not what I mean,” you murmured, your voice raw with vulnerability. “I mean... why have you never touched me like I mattered? Like you wanted me?”

His breath hitched, and for a brief moment, you thought you felt him falter. But when he answered, his tone was bitter, almost defensive. “Wanting you isn’t the issue,” he said harshly. “Feelings, tenderness—that’s not what matters. An heir is what matters. Duty is what matters. You think this is a game, Prima? That this empire is built on emotions?”

You swallowed hard, his words cutting through you like a blade. “So that’s it?” you whispered. “I’m just a vessel to you? Nothing more?”

He didn’t respond immediately, his silence deafening. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost grudging. “Wanting you, needing you—that doesn’t change what I am. What we are.”

"What are we?" you asked, feeling a mix of confusion and disbelief.

"Nothing but a fleeting thought until that cursed cunt of yours does what it’s meant to—until your womb carries my heir," he shot back, kicking the horse into a faster stride.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dismounting the horse proved more challenging than anticipated. With Caracalla already on the ground, his gaze burning into you, you shook your head and released the reins. Your feet met the sand, sinking deep into its grains, and you stumbled. As you fumbled, he stepped forward, his hand outstretched to steady you, but you pushed it away, catching yourself just before falling.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, brushing your windswept hair out of your face.

He loomed closer, his brow furrowing in frustration. “You’ve done enough tonight, Prima. Enough of this madness.”

“Madness?” You whirled to face him, your voice ringing out in the silence of the night. “The only madness here is yours!”

Before he could respond, you lunged forward and snatched the dagger from his belt. The two guards stationed at the villa’s entrance stiffened instantly, their hands flying to the hilt of their swords.

“Prima,” Caracalla growled,“Put it down.”

You ignored him, your grip tightening on the blade. “Must I bleed for you, Caracalla? Would that finally make me real to you? Would that amuse you?”

“Enough of this nonsense,” he snapped. He took a step closer, his hands clenched into fists.

You backed away as you held the blade out between you. “Isn’t that what you like?” you demanded, your voice rising, trembling with anger. “I’ve heard the whispers, Caracalla. You like to bleed women for fun. You like to push them until they break, to see how far they can go before they shatter.”

His expression darkened, jaw tightening. The guards glanced at one another, uncertain whether to intervene.

“And tonight—tonight, you sat there with a woman who looked just like me.” Your voice broke, your eyes stinging with tears you refused to shed. “She had my face, my hair... Did you think I wouldn’t notice? That I wouldn’t care? You sat there with her on your lap, touching her, gambling with her like she was some pale imitation of what you already have!”

He froze for a moment, your words seeming to hit a nerve, but then his expression twisted into something dark and unreadable.

“You know nothing,” he said coldly.

“Don’t I?” you shot back, your voice trembling with fury. “You think I don’t hear the rumors? About the swords, the games, the bleeding?” You took a step closer, your eyes locking with his, refusing to back down. “Well, here I am, Caracalla. Bleed me, if that’s what you want. Push me to the edge like you do to all the others.”

Without waiting for his reaction, you pressed the blade against your palm, the sharp edge biting into your skin. You flinched as blood welled and trickled down your wrist, pooling onto the marble floor.

His hand shot out faster than you could react, gripping your wrist and forcing the dagger from your grasp. It clattered to the ground, the sound echoing through the villa. He yanked you toward him, his grip bruising as his face hovered inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin.

Before he could speak, you wrenched your hand free and swung it hard against his face. The sound of the slap echoed through the space, your blood smearing across his cheek like a brand.

He froze, his head snapping to the side from the force of your blow. Slowly, he turned back to face you, his dark eyes blazing with fury. He drug you to a chaise, twisting your body around to lay across his lap.

Caracalla’s grip on you tightened, his fingers digging into your waist as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. “You don’t learn through words, Prima. Perhaps pain will remind you of who you’re speaking to.”

You froze, your breath hitching at his words, the threat lingering in the air like smoke. Before you could summon a retort, his voice cut through the silence, cold and commanding.

“Fetch me a whip,” he barked, his head turning slightly toward the guards who still stood by the entrance, their eyes wide with apprehension.

For a moment, neither guard moved, exchanging uneasy glances.

“Now,” Caracalla snapped, his tone sharp enough to make both men flinch. One of them nodded and stepped away, his footsteps echoing in the atrium as he disappeared into an adjoining room.

Your heart pounded, each beat loud in your ears as you twisted against his hold, desperate to break free. “Caracalla, don’t you dare,” you hissed, your voice dripping with venom even as your stomach knotted with a mixture of anger and dread. Perhaps, something else. Something you had never experienced under the circumstances you found yourself in.

“Quiet,” he commanded, his hand pressing more firmly against your back. “You wanted my attention, didn’t you? Now you have it. Let’s see if you still crave it when I’m finished with you.”

Moments later, the guard returned, his face pale as he held out the braided leather flogger with trembling hands. Caracalla took it without a word, dismissing the man with a wave. The guard quickly retreated, leaving you alone with your husband and the weight of what was about to unfold.

He held the flogger in his hand, letting the strands sway lightly, almost thoughtfully, as he regarded you with a dark, calculating gaze.

“Caracalla,” you said, your voice low and sharp as you craned your neck to glare at him. “You’re not doing this.”

“Oh, I am,” he replied, his tone cold and resolute. “Because this is what you want, isn’t it? You want to push me, to test me. Well, here I am, Prima. Let’s see how far you’re willing to go.”

He let the flogger brush lightly against the back of your thighs, dragging the fabric of your stola with it, the sensation sending a shiver up your spine. The teasing motion wasn’t meant to hurt—not yet—but it was a warning of what was to come.

“You bleed for me,” he murmured, almost to himself. “You slap me like you’re my equal. And now, you’ll learn what it means to be mine.”

The leather strands trailed over your skin, their touch deceptively gentle as Caracalla hovered in silence. You could feel his gaze boring into you, and despite the fury burning in your chest, your body trembled under his hold.

“You’ve always wanted to test me,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, cutting through the tense air. “So tell me, Prima, are you ready for the lesson you asked for?”

“Let me go,” you snapped, twisting against him, but his iron grip on your waist didn’t falter.

“You think I don’t see it?” he continued, ignoring your protests, the flogger now coiled loosely in his hand. “You thrive on this—on defiance, on rebellion. You provoke me, hoping I’ll break, hoping I’ll lose control.”

The strands of leather flicked against the back of your thighs, sharp enough to sting but not yet hard enough to leave a mark. Your breath hitched involuntarily, and Caracalla’s lips curled into a grim, humorless smile.

“But that’s the thing about me, Prima,” he said darkly, his voice dropping lower. “I don’t break. I’m the one who does the breaking.”

The next strike came without warning against the bare flesh of your ass, the flogger snapping against your skin with enough force to make you gasp. The sting bloomed instantly, hot and sharp, radiating.

“Caracalla!” you cried out, your voice a mixture of fury and disbelief.

“Don’t call me that,” he growled, his tone cutting through the room like a blade. “When you speak to me, you will remember who I am to you. Say it.”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction. Another strike followed, harder this time, and you bit down on your lip to stifle the sound that threatened to escape.

“Say it,” he repeated, his hand pressing down against the reddened flesh of your ass to hold you steady.

The heat of the blows, the tension in his voice, and the humiliation of your position all made your head spin. The drugs still lingered in your system, dulling some of the pain but amplifying the intensity of the moment.

“You are my emperor,” you spat finally, your voice trembling but laced with venom.

“That’s right,” he said, his voice dark with satisfaction. “And you will remember that.”

He let the flogger fall again, a calculated punishment meant to remind you of his dominance. Each strike sent a jolt through you, but it was the weight of his dominating presence, the control he exerted, that stung more than the blows.

Caracalla’s strikes came slower now, deliberate, as if he wanted you to feel every ounce of control he wielded. The leather strands snapped against the soft flesh of your ass, leaving a burning heat that spread through your skin, through your core. Your breath came in shallow gasps, and you bit down on your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a cry, though the pain blurred into a strange, disorienting feeling, manifesting an ache between your thighs, and warmth wetness as you squeezed them together.

"Still defiant," he murmured, his tone laced with amusement. His hand settled on your lower back, holding you firmly against his lap, and you could feel the tension radiating from him, like a predator toying with its prey. "You think I don't know what you're doing? Pushing me like this, daring me to lose control?"

"You already have," you spat, your voice shaky but sharp, though you could even hear the vulnerability beneath it. "Look at yourself, Caracalla. Do you think this proves your strength? That this—" You twisted beneath his grip, trying to pull free. "—makes you a ruler? It only makes you cruel."

His grip tightened, and he leaned down, his breath warm against the back of your neck. "You call me cruel, Prima, but you're the one who brought us here." The flogger trailed across your skin now, the sting replaced by a soft drag that only heightened the tension in the air. "You taunt me. Defy me. Challenge me in front of my guards like you're untouchable. And yet, here you are, over my knee, bleeding for my attention."

"You make me hate you," you hissed, though the venom in your words was laced with something deeper, something even you couldn't quite name.

"Do I?" he asked, his voice a low growl. The flogger fell again, harder this time, and the sharp snap against your thigh drew a gasp from your lips before you could stop it. "Or do I make you feel something you can't control?"

The question struck a nerve, and your body tensed against him, though your mind was too clouded—by anger, by the lingering effects of the drugs, by the intensity of him—to form a coherent reply. His free hand slid up your back, the touch firm but not cruel sending a shiver through you.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice quiet but seething with authority. "Admit what we both know, Prima."

Your silence was the only defiance you had left, and it only seemed to fuel his frustration. He tossed the flogger aside, and the sharp clatter against the marble floor echoed in the atrium. Both of his hands gripped your waist now, pulling you upright and turning you to face him. His expression was a storm—anger, desire, and something unspoken all in the depths of his ocean eyes.

"You want to hate me," he said, his voice low and steady, though there was a rawness to it that made your breath hitch. "But hate is still a feeling, isn't it, Prima? It's still mine to take from you."

You were a mess, your breathing shallow and uneven, tears pooling in your eyes though you refused to let them fall. Your hair clung to your damp skin, and your body trembled—not just from the pain but from the weight of everything you were feeling, everything that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long. Your cut palm, still slick with blood, trembled as you tried to keep it from view, as if that small act could give you back some semblance of control.

"Look at you," he said, his voice low and rough, his hands tightening their hold on you as if he were afraid you might collapse. "You think you can sit here, defiant and proud, but you're barely holding yourself together. You're trembling, Prima."

Your eyes narrowed, though the tears made it hard to focus. "And whose fault is that?" you spat, your voice shaking. "You—you make me feel like I'm nothing. You take every piece of me and break it, twist it until I don’t even recognize myself."

His expression flickered for the briefest moment—something like guilt passing over his face before it hardened again. "I break you?" he said, his voice quiet but cutting. "Do you think I don’t feel the same? You think I don’t see how you look at me like I’m a monster, like every choice I make is a crime against you?"

"Because it is!" you cried, your voice cracking as the tears finally spilled over, hot and unrelenting. "You tell me I belong to you, but you push me away, humiliate me, treat me like I’m nothing more than a tool for your empire! How can you expect me to feel anything but hatred for you when you don’t even try to understand me?"

His hands moved to your shoulders, and for a moment, his grip softened. "You think I don’t understand?" he murmured, his voice quieter now, though no less intense. "You think I don’t see you, Prima? I see you more clearly than anyone else ever has.”

The admission stunned you into silence. For a moment, the room seemed to close in around you, the world narrowing to just the two of you. His words hung in the air, and you could feel the sincerity in them, even if you didn’t want to. Being understood by Caracalla meant, by some measure, you could possibly be like him.

"If you see me so clearly," you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper, "then why do you treat me like this? Why do you make it so impossible for us to be anything but enemies?"

He closed his eyes briefly, as though steadying himself, before looking at you again. "Because it’s easier to push you away than to let you see how much I want you," he said, his voice breaking just slightly on the last word.

You felt your knees buckle, and this time, you didn’t pull away when he steadied you, his arms wrapping around you almost protectively as he laid you back against the plush cushioned chaise.

"I hate you," you whispered against his chest, though the words lacked the fire they once had.

"I know," he replied softly, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head. "But that doesn’t make any of this less true."

He tilted your face up to meet his gaze. “I don’t need to remind you that you belong to me,” Caracalla said softly, his voice smooth with an edge of menace. “But I will... just to make sure you’re never in doubt. Everything you are, every breath you take... it's mine to command.” His eyes darkened, “And when I’m finished with you, you’ll know it, deep down in your bones.”

It wasn’t long before he traced a path of bites and kisses along your neck and chest, relishing the softness of your belly, his warm hand resting possessively over your mound. A groan escaped his lips as a finger slipped between your folds, the wetness glistening on his finger.

Your response was hushed, tired from the hours of emotionality, from the ecstasy, from the devil’s breath; all you could manage was a soft moan, your head falling to the side in surrender.

“No,” he insisted, shaking his head, his hand tilting your chin to meet his gaze, your own wetness marking the curve of your cheek, “You shall not drift away from me again.”

He knelt on the chaise, pulling you gently by the back of your knees until your thighs rested on either side of his head. You inhaled a shaky breath as his fingers dug into your wounded backside, descending upon you like a man starved for your flesh. In just moments, the coil within you tightened, reminiscent of the pleasure Prosperina had given you earlier that night but even more intense. You tangled your bloodied fingers in his hair, urging him closer to your core, and finally, your voice returned, a wail escaping your lips as you released around his eager tongue.

Your vision blurred as you arched into his mouth, and when you came to, you looked down to find him sucking at the gash on your palm, as if your very essence was the only thing that could nourish him.

He quickly pulled away, his hand gliding across the marble floor until it found what he was searching for. The dagger sparkled in the candlelight, and a knot tightened in your stomach as you wondered what he was about to do. With a quick slash, he cut into his own palm, and you shuddered at the sound of his flesh parting.

When he pressed your wounded hands together, you couldn’t help but groan.

For two nights, you remained entwined with him in bloodied sheets, surrendering to him in every way. His seed marked your skin, streaking your thighs, mingling with the blood from kisses pressed too hard and bites that left their imprints upon taut flesh. He commanded you to learn his desires—to ride him with purpose, to take him deeply enough for your own pleasure, to find ecstasy in his dominance. In turn, he pushed you to your limits, coaxing cries from your lips that echoed through the chamber like prayers to the gods. By the end, your body wore the evidence of him—smudged, crimson handprints and bruises scattered like spoils of war. Exhaustion claimed you, pulling you into the softness of the bed, your heavy-lidded gaze stayed on him as he laid beside you.

Servants had come and gone during the two days, dismissed by his growled commands before they could enter. You caught the sound of his voice—low and steady, discussing affairs of the empire. Peeking through half-lidded eyes, you saw him framed in the doorway, a sheet draped loosely around his waist as he murmured to messengers. Without fail, he returned to you each time, sinking back into the bed to linger at your side, his gaze fixed upon you as you slipped once more to sleep.

The door flew open without warning, slamming against the wall with a force that shook the bed. You laid on your stomach, your battered body half-draped in the stained sheets, your wounded hand dangling limply from the edge of the bed. The cool breeze drifting in from the balcony made your exposed skin prickle, and the intrusion startled Caracalla from his place beside you.

“By the gods, you’ve nearly killed her.” Geta’s accusatory voice broke through the silence.

Caracalla jerked upright, his hand shot out to grab the sheet, draping it over your body before he swung his legs to the floor. “What in all the hells are you doing here, brother?” he growled.

“You’ve ignored every messenger I’ve sent,” Geta snapped, stepping into the room with no regard for the scene surrounding him. His eyes flicked briefly to you, his expression unreadable, before returning to his brother.

“As you can see, I’ve been busy,” Caracalla bit back, the sarcasm dripping from his words as he gestured dismissively toward you.

“And yet Rome burns in your absence,” Geta countered sharply. “But this isn’t about me, nor the senate’s growing distaste for your escapades.”

Caracalla leaned forward, his jaw tightening as he spat, “Then get to the point, unless you came to gawk.”

Geta’s eyes narrowed, his temper held in check by a thread. “It’s Father,” he finally said, his voice breaking faintly on the word. “He is not well.”

Caracalla froze for a beat, “How do you mean?” he demanded, his voice quieter now.

You stirred beneath the sheet, the ache in your body throbbing as you rolled onto your back, pulling the sheet around you. Squinting against the sunlight streaming in, you took in the two brothers.

Geta hesitated, “His condition has worsened,” he admitted, his voice hoarse. “He has been unconscious for days.”

For the first time, Caracalla’s composure seemed to crack. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, his eyes darkening. “And you waited until now to tell me?” he snapped, though the anger in his tone seemed to mask something else.

“I’ve sent word,” Geta replied sharply, his frustration palpable. “You ignored it. You locked yourself away with her—” his gaze flicked to you briefly before returning to his brother “—and the empire be damned.”

Caracalla stood, his movements abrupt and dominating. “I will decide what damns the empire,” he said coldly, stepping toward Geta. “But if what you say is true, I will not be kept from Rome.” He turned to you, his gaze lingering on your exhausted form, his expression unreadable. “Get dressed. We leave at once.”

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Dividers: @ghoulbloggerrr

[skhardwarevers1]

spent two hours studying and I’m STILL thinking about Cassie

[fortunekookie07]

Are requests open? May I request a sylus x wife reader (not the mc) where she is afraid of him and feels like he doesn’t love her cause of his cold and intimidating nature. Then mc arrives and she’s hurt and shocked with how he treats her. Now convinced that he doesn’t love her and hates her she keeps her distance and sits alone everyday on the rooftop. Barely eating anything nor sleeping properly she lost the will and strength to sleep next to him and sleeps on the couch or on the rooftop (after she saw him pin down mc onto the bed ya know that scene) . Even starts to think of packing up and leaving telling herself to “prepare” whenever he divorces her.

But one time she gets kidnapped for bait and injured yet sylus hasn’t come for days so she tells her kidnappers “ it’s a waste of time cause sylus won’t come for me, i mean nothing to him , he was already planning to get rid of me. so you might as well kill me right now and save your breaths.” Not knowing that her husband overheard her when he entered before she passed out due to lack of food and exhaustion.

Did You Ever Love Me?

The day you married Sylus was the happiest day of your life. You had been by his side for 3 years. It wasn't the easy life you had once dreamed of, but this was the reality of the N109 Zone. Nothing was easy, and everything had a price.

You still remembered the day you had first met, what a blood bath that had been. Your family had been one of the most influential in the area. Having long established their authority when it came to weapons dealing. Only supplying top-notch weapons.

From a young age your father had made sure you knew the business, drsminf of having you take over. He taught you everything he knew. From the making of the orders, to quality check, and even materials secured.

That day it was your parents 25th anniversary and a big party was thrown for them. Business partners and friends were all invited to the event.

The only thing your father had not warned you about, was the extensive dangers of the N109 Zone. He'd tried to shield you from just how dirty the world could be.

A rival family had crashed the party with a seemingly endless group of thugs. Before anyone had realized what was going on, gunshots filled the air. People started screaming and running in a desperate attempt to get to safety. Pushing and shoving others out of their way as they went.

A stray bullet hit your arm and blood immediately started pouring from the wound. You grunted as the pain slammed into you and momentarily lost your footing just a another bullet whizzed past the air where your head had been seconds ago.

You heard your father calling your name and pushing through people trying to get to you. You could see your mother sitting on the ground near one of the stairs columns. She was tying a makeshift bandage around someone's leg. Trying to staunch the bleeding.

You felt like your life was running in fast forward as you watched your father continue to push through the crowd and then he suddenly stopped moving as his eyes widened and he looked down. Blood was blooming across the white shirt of his suit and staining the black jacket. In the center of the stain was a hole. You felt sick seing that hole pierced through his chest over his heart.

"Father!" Your scream rang over the gunshots and panic as you tried to run to him. The long him of your dress got stepped on and you fell to the floor landing hard on your side. Pain zipped through your body at the hard smack to the unforgiving marble floor.

You desperately fought to get to your feet as it finally seemed like the crowd was thinning out. Thankfully no one stepped on you or your clothes again. Just as you reached your father the gun shots stopped and the following silence seemed to bring the air of dread.

The scent of blood was strong, making you gag as your stomach heaved. You push the feelings back and reach out to the injury, hands shaking as you try to staunch the blood flow. He grunts with the pressure and his eyes open slightly. You start muttering words but even you don't believe what you are saying.

"It's ok father, we can fix this. I'll get help, the doctor will fix you right up and then everything will be ok." Tears arr pouring down your face as he smiles weakly. He reaches for your face, trying to touch your cheek. Just before his hand can touch you a great force yanks you back.

You scream out at the pain, pulling you scalp. A heavy fist has gripped your hair, yanking the strands hardly and then a voice is in your ear. "I'll blast a hole in your head if you move a muscle." The voice growled near your ear as he tightens his grip on your hair. Your cried our in pain and he just tugged harder, you bit back the second cry as hot tears rolled down your face.

His arm grabbed your hand and forced you to your feet, perking you to face the way he wanted. He kicked the back of your knees forcing you to kneel in front of a man. Tugging your head back as he allowed you to stare at the man clearly responsible for this entire plot.

Fear stuck you as a cold, malicious smile stretched across his heavily scarred face. His eye was like flat steel. No luster or shine to its grey depths. A scar cut through his left eye and down his cheek, going all the way down to his mouth. Burn scars were also intermingled on his face.

His eye itself was an ugly milky color, it held no pupil or iris. On the right side of his face three long jagged scars could be seen stretching from his ear down to his chin. Little tremors went through your body. This man had an overwhelming presence and the sense of evil wrapped around him like a cloak.

"Well, well, well if it isn't the little princess. Your father was careful to hide you away from me. Protecting his biggest weakness. I must say I do admire him for that."

In contrast to his appearance his voice was smooth, a slight rasp clung to his words. Whatever had attacked and scarred him had obviously affected his vocal cords. He worked it to his advantage, speaking in a way that soothed you on the surface. Even if his words were unsettling or foul.

He reached for you, his fingers and thumb just barely brushing your face when a loud caw shattered the silence. With the bird cry black and red mist began pouring into the wide space and the air got heavy. As if gravity itself was pushing down on everyone and everything in the room. The mist covered and hid everything in its path. Blinking you realized you couldn't see the man in front of you.

A deep, suave, sexy voice seemed to come from no where as helped had seemed to arrive. "It seems you did not learn your lesson. I don't mind teaching it to you agiain, Osric." The mist wrapped around him, holding him still. Footsteps tapped across the floor, the occasional sloosh as he stepped in a puddle. Your body shuddered, knowing exactly what liquid he stood in.

It took a few minutes before you realized that the man who had been gripping your hair was no longer touching you, or even anywhere near you.

The mist began swirling into the center of the room, right next to you. Looking into the mist you could just make out a tall silhouette. As rapidly as the mist had spread it was now retreating.

A tall well built man was standing right beside you. Silver hair carefully styled. Red eyes piercing and promising danger. The right one seemed to be glowing.

"You have some guts, touching something of mine, I don't take kindly to thievery. The man, Osric, was hoisted into the air with the mist. He gasped and sputtered clawing at the mist to no avail.

Two men appeared by your side then. One offered his hand, bit you hesitate. Both are wearing black crow masks with subtle red lines on the face of the mask and a red tipped beak. Two red horns poke through the hoods they wear and a gold ring is on one of them. The two are slim and tall, you can tell nothing of their appearance. Clothing and masks make it impossible to discern any identifying features.

The first guy is still holding his hand out to you, he seems neither impatient nor upset that you haven't accepted it yet. Finally seeing no consequence to taking his offered hand you lightly place your palm in his. He gently but firmly grasps your hand and assists you in standing. He let's go after you are steady on your feet and positions himself at your side. The second does the same on your right. Like they are bodyguards.

"Screw you Sylus"! Osric sputters out, still trying to break free of the mist. His fingers are bloody from his efforts to free himself. "Luke, Kieran, see to it that she comes to no harm." The silver haired man says as he squeezes his hand. The mist constricts around Osric further cutting of his air flow completely.

One of the two lightly grabs your arm and spins you around just as a sickening crunch reaches your ears. This kind of thing happened a lot here. Those with power ruled over the weak. It was nothing new.

You had long grown accustomed to the way Sylua dealt with traitors and rats. He did not tolerate disloyalty and gave no second chances.

The events of your parents 25th anniversary party had happened five years ago. You often wondered how your life would have gone if you had never accepted his hand when he gave it. Your father had been supplying weapons to Sylus' organization for years. He'd apparently stuck some kind of deal with Sylus, that had involved your protection.

Sylus had married you, per your father's request and now he owned almost half of your family business. Haven acquired your mother and father's shares. He'd left yours to you.

At first you'd been absolutely terrified of him. His aura radiated danger, almost like he was a living grim reaper. He so often came back to the manor covered in blood. The twins were his direct subordinates. They followed his every command quickly and without hesitation. But at least they had a personality and could provide a sense of calm.

It had taken almost a year before you could approach Sylus without feeling nervous. You hadn't been able to understand your fear of him. He'd posed no restrictions on you, didn't make any ridiculous demands and had never threatened you with harm of any kind.

The turning point had been the day he'd come home injured and concern over his bleeding wounds had overrode the fear. Despite his insistence that he didn't need any first aide treatment, Sylus had not pushed you away or tried to stop you from cleaning his wounds.

After that he began spending time with you and talked to you. Before you knew it you looked forward to when he would come home and just talk to you for awhile. These little gestures and act of kindness had resonated in your heart and little by little you felt yourself falling for him.

He'd granted your request to be touched by him and he spent a night with you. Thinking that he too had given his heart to you, you lived your days believing that he loved you back. That was until she appeared.

In an instant his entire demeanor changed. He made her his top priority. Spending any and all time he had with her. Most nights he didn't even come to your room anymore. His side of the bed was often unspent in.

You hadn't officially met her yet, only seen her in passing. She was beautiful. Long dark hair hung in neat and straight lengths down to her very slender waist. Piercing eyes almost the shade of jade framed by thick dark lashes. She was on the shorter side, even you were taller than she was. This woman held some kind of connection with your husband and the knowledge that your place was very quickly being stripped away gnawed at you from the inside.

Wandering aimlessly through the manor one day you discovered the ladder that lead up to the roof. Even though it was cold outside, you still sat there on the roof. Wondering how long it would be before you were forgotten completely.

Despite the cold and the swirling snow, you dozed off hugging your arms to your sides. What seemed like minutes later you were woken up by a piercing light. The sun was beginning to sting your eyelids, squinting against the harsh glare of the sun's first rays of the day, you tried to sit up straight. Your whole body was numb and cold. It took several minutes to rub feeling back into your fingers.

Carefully moving away from the edge of the roof you stood up. Your legs shook from the movement. Having been in the same position for too long, they had gone to sleep.

You did some light stretches and gradually the shaking and numbing little stings subsided and you felt more sure on your feet.

Finally you made your way to the roof latch, having left it open all night there was a pile of snow at the base of the ladder and it was freezing cold to the touch.

You descended the ladder and walked around the manor. It was quiet, most everyone was asleep at this time. Feeling the desire to see Sylus, you turn around and head to his room. He was usually there at this time. You hesitate at the door. Whenever you'd come to his room he was usually accompanying you.

Just as your about to knock, a voice addresses you from behind. "He's not here, Sylus went out for work. I've been waiting for him to return since last night." Turning around, you see that woman. Feeling angry for a reason you can't quite grasp, you turn around

and storm by her. Purposely bumping into her on the way by. She stumbles but you keep going.

Your sour mood lingers throughout the day killing any appetite oyi might have had. Your wandering leads you back to the roof and you sit in the same spot from the night before.

From your spot on the roof, you can hear his motorcycle approach the manor and you sit their contemplating what to do. Finally after another two hours you head back to his room. When you get there the door is adjacent and you silently push it open. You feel your heart stop.

There on the bed is Sylus on top of her. She's pinned down and it's very obvious what is going on. His naked back is to you and her equally naked leg is wrapped around his waist. Their kiss is intense that you feel your heart break. His hand is twined with hers and pinned above her head. You back away and run down the hall and go to the roof.

Hot tears are streaming down your face as you realized that Sylus had never loved you. He'd just been indulging you for the last several years because you were useful. He could even hate you for all you knew. The one he truly loved was currently tangled with him on his bed.

You feel your heart break further as you realize that with no family or friends you have nothing. You had only ever been useful to Sylus because of you family's business. That was not love and never could be.

You cry yourself to sleep on the roof again, completely defenseless and unaware of the eyes watching you. When you wake up again, there's a dull ache in your head and a ferocious growl in your stomach, but you have no desire to eat or even move.

You sit there watching the stars for what seemed like days. Eventually the sky begins to lighten as the sun begins its ascent across the sky. You continue to sit, even as heavy clouds roll in. Another snowfall is coming, you remembered from the weeks forecast you had read a few days ago. But still you don't move.

It's only when the wind cuts through you, chilling you to the bone that you get up. Once again you rub feeling back into your frozen limbs and head down the ladder. You avoid your room and his. Just the thought of sleeping in a bed you had shared with him makes your stomach turn. Your entire body burns with the feeling if betrayal, but you can neither act on it or alleviate it. The feeling simmers in your stomach driving away the need for food.

Eventually you end up on the couch. The warmth from the fire burning in the hearth slowly warms you up and a drowsy feeling over comes you. Stretching out and pulling the throw down over you, you manage to drift off into a restless sleep.

After what feels like minutes, your body is shaken awake. It's that woman again, hate burns through your veins. You want to tear her apart and rip her to shreds. You glare at everything.

"Hey, the cook said you didn't eat dinner. So I brought you some food" She offers the plate to you. It's all your favorite things. A light fruit salad with beautifully cut fresh fruit and a stack of golden waffles topped with whipped cream and raspberries. Your anger overtakes you and you sit up and shove the plate away from you. She's so surprised at this action that she stumbles back, dropping the plate as she does. The delicate China shatters on the floor as the fruit scattered and the waffles sit there on top of the broken peices.

She looks at you with hurt on her face. "Why did you do that?" She asks just as Sylus enters the room. He looks annoyed at the mess on the floor. Concern overtakes him as he comes closer. Of course none of it is for you, she's the only important one in his eyes. A shard of the plate had bounced of the floor and put a cut on her arm. She had a line of bright red blood blooming out from the slice.

"Did you really think I would accept anything from YOU?" You spit the words at her like venom and stand up. "I know your not so stupid as to be unaware that Sylus is my husband." Your words are as cold as the ice outside. Red blooms across her face as realization strikes her.

You turn to leave the room and just as your about to step into the hall something grabs your arm and yanks you back. Your head whips around and your suddenly face to face with Sylus angry expression.

"She is my guest, you will treat her with respect. Don't lay your hands on her again." You rip your arm from his grasp. "You must think I'm an idiot. She's getting a hell of a lot more than hospitality from you. I owe her NOTHING. She is nothing to me but a sneaky slut that wormed her way into a married man's bed. Both of you disgust me." You storm from the room. As you leave, you take notice of the twins. They are also watching you, but you do not care.

You return to your room and begin to make preparations. You're almost certain now that Sylus hates you. "Divorce is pretty much guaranteed." You say out loud to no one. As you look around the room you realize that nothing in it is truly yours. Everything had been given by Sylus after your marriage. "What a joke I am. I must be the biggest idiot in all of the world. I never should have married him. He was a complete stranger. What a fool!" You kick the dresser in anger, the pain just spurs you on.

After ripping the sheets off the bed and throwing them to the floor your anger had only increased. Grabbing the nearest object, your hurl it to the floor. Feeling satisfied as it shatters. You begin throwing things all over the room. In minutes the neat, beautifully decorated room is in shambles. Glass, sheets, books, jewelry, makeup, and nick-nacks are all over the floor. You turn and leave the disaster you made, making sure to slam the door as hard as you can on your way out. The paintings on the wall tremble from the force.

You storm through the manor headed for the stairs again. You don't recognize the lightheaded woozy feeling that has over come you and you feel dizzy as you reach the ladder that goes to the roof. Halfway up, your foot slips. Before you fall, in a burst of adrenaline you manage to grab the ladder securely. Your heart is beating out of your chest as you cling to the rungs. "That was too close," you mutter taking deep, steady breaths.

Undeterred, you climb the ladder anyway, resolute in seeking peace on the roof once more. It takes a lot more effort to climb up than it had in previous climbs. Your huffing and puffing by the time you manage to get up.

As you walk to the ledge and glance at the snow covered ground below, you realize something is off. The footsteps in the snow are not yours and since it had been snowing for hours, the ones from earlier would have long since been hidden under more snow.

You whirl around ad your mind screams danger. You hands fumble through your layers of clothing to grab the knife you always kept with you. It was a custom blade and designed to attach to your bra. Although it was small, it was very sharp and could easily cut and stab in defense. As your hand manages to grab the handle a figure appears from the top of the roof. He easily jumps down to where you are.

"To think that the infamous wife of Onychinus' boss would be so easy to get to. No bodyguard?" He asks in a taunting tone. The man is dressed head to foot in black. His entire body is covered save for his eyes. Black as a blank night sky and soulless. He points a gun at you. "Drop the knife, or I'll put a bullet in you right here." He says his finger twitching on the trigger.

Having been taught how to fight from a small age, you fein dropping the knife as he moves closer. Just as he's within reach you spin it around and drive it into his upper arm. Unfortunately he was prepared for your tricks and fires the gun. The bullet burries itself deep into your thigh. You cry out and collapse to the ground clutching the wound. Blood seeps between your fingers and down your leg. Falling upon the snow.

"You're going to regret that." The man says as he pulls the blade out of his arm and flings it to the ground. He reaches out and grabs you. You're enveloped in a blinding light and then everything fades away. Sight, sound, and feeling are gone.

It feels like you're floating in darkness for a long time. You struggle to move, bit something is restricting you're movements. A rattling sound is the first thing you can hear as your senses come flooding back. The pain slams into you again and you groan. You realize that you've been blindfolded with a thick cloth.

"She's finally awake. I would really like to know about that blade she stabbed you with. It really did a number on your arm. It must have been very sharp.

"Shut up and just do your job. The boss needs information and she's going to have it. He said do whatever it takes to get it out of her. Just don't kill her." A gleeful cackle made you shudder and then footsteps came closer to you.

"Darkness makes the pain more intense. You will tell me what we want to know." The man says and then you can hear metal being moved around. Your heart begins to race. There is nothing for you to tell them. Sylus had always made sure that you knew nothing of his business and plans. You had only ever overseen the production of weapons. You didn't know their purpose or intended use.

"I imagine I'll get away with it if I do kill you though. Osric was his brother just so you know. Boss has a personal grudge to pick with you and Sylus. This is going to be delicious. Let's begin. We'll start with something easy." He said and then you could feel him standing at your side.

Hours had passed since the torture had begun, but no matter what question he asked the result was the same. You didn't know.

He had tried a variety of methods to break you. The first had been pulling you fingernails our. It had been excruciating and you nearly passed out several times. The he had tried whipping you. Your back was a raw bloody mess from all the cuts. That had made you pass out. His ways of waking you up again were resolute. Dumping ice water on you seemed to do the trick.

Your mind felt like it was going to snap if this went on much longer. Your voice was raspy and hoarse from the hours of screaming and crying. At first you had tried to hold back, but this maniac had taken it as a challenge. Several times he had said you were boring him with your instant responses.

"You're n-not going to-o get any.. anything fro-om me. I have nothing to tell. Even if I wanted to." This was not the first time you had said those words. It's just they fell on deaf ears. "Ju-just kill me al-ready. I I'm useless to yo-ou. He-e doesn't ca-are about me. Ju-just end it already. I-I don't kn-ow anything." This went on for days. You knew time was passing but you had no idea how much until finally a different person entered the room.

"Boss is fed up with you. He wants to know why she hasn't spilled her guts yet. He's tired of waiting for what he wants to know. Can't believe three days and she hasn't cracked once." His voice sounded disappointed and uninterested.

You'd lost count of all the methods they had tried to get you to speak. Several times you had begged him to just kill you but he'd only laughed in response. Sleep had been allowed a few times and sips of water had been given.

They had never removed your blindfold, and you were glad that you could not see what had been done to you. Even if you could feel every injury, being able to see them would have made it ten times worse.

Just as he was getting ready to start again, the door was blasted open. It sounded like it had been ripped right off the hinges. Chaos ensued with whatever had cause the door to explode, and the man started yelling.

"Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?" Crashes followed the words, and then a guttural sputter followed. Seconds later, you felt hands touching you, and you flinched, thinking that more pain would follow. To your surprise, the restraints on your arms and legs were removed, and then someone was carefully helping you sit up. A pair of hands touched the blindfold and then dim light hit your eyes. You screwed them shut feeling that it was painful.

Every part of your body hurt. Stinging and burning sensations were running rampant all over and you just wanted it to end. "We need to move." A familiar voice said in your ear. You open your eyes, ignoring the pain from the light and look at the voice. To your complete surprise Luke and Kieran are by your side.

"We've come to get you. Boss is so angry. I don't want to stick around here." The twins had their usual care free attitude as they watched you. "Why?" You asked looking at the pair. You could sense their confusion. "What do you mean why? You're Boss's wife. Of course he will take back what is his." One of them said as the other drapped a blanket over you and then carefully picked you up.

You grimaced and tried not to show the pain. "M-my leg is broken." You managed to get out between gritted teeth and gasps. They said nothing as they took you out the door.

Having never seen any of the place you were in, you were surprised at the twisting hallways and maze like route that you were taking. But the twins seemed undeterred and walked quickly. Before long there was a heavy metal door in front of you. It was all dented and it looked like an explosion had hit it. The door was already adjar and upon further investigation, you notice that it's hanging off the hinges.

Walking down another short hallway you come up into a large room. With a start you realize that blood is everywhere and there are bodies scattered through out the room. At the front leaning against a table is Sylus. He looks irritated and he has blood spattered on his face. He stands up straight when he sees you and the twins. His gaze hardens as he looks you over.

"Why did you come?" He looks at you blankly, his face giving nothing away. He just looks at you like he's staring right through you.

"Did you ever, even for one second love me?" You ask after several tense minutes go by. He still says nothing. Feeling the unsaid confirmation of what you had thought to be true now a reality you close your eyes against the tears.

A minute later and you open them again. "I am over this. I just want it to end. I don't care about anything anymore. I no longer want anything as I also posses nothing. You can have it all. I just want it to end." After letting go you feel like a weight has fallen off your shoulders. All the hate and resentment you'd felt several days ago has disappeared.

"Take her to the manor and contact the dr." Sylus finally says after many moments. The twins immediately move out. Despite their best efforts you get jostled several times and the pain makes you pass out. You surrender to unconsciousness, thankful to escape for however short a time it will last.

Over the next several months you are confined to bed to allow you injuries to heal. The scarring isn't as bad as you had though it would be, but it extends over most of your arms legs and back. The whip scars will never disappear and serve as a constant reminder to never show your back to anyone.

Eventually the day arrives that the dr tells you all of you injuries have healed and he discharges you from his care. Eight months have passed since that day and finally you are back on your feet. Having packed a bag with a few sets of clothes you grab the strap and the papers you had asked for a few days ago.

Without hesitation you go to Sylus' office and open the door. He is sitting at his desk reading some documents. You walk over and set two things down. One of them reads Transfer of Assets and the other says Annulment of Marriage. Placing a pen on top of it you say resolute "sign them and then you'll never see me again." You take a step back and wait.

He sets the papers down and looks at what you have placed on his desk with a raised eyebrow. "What is this?" You inwardly sigh. "Sinc you do not love me and I have no desire to play second fiddle to anyone else I am not staying. Clearly there is no place for me here. This is to repay the treatment I was given. You owe me nothing and I owe you nothing." You're confidant that with relinquishing your rights to your family's business and everything you endured being at his side will more than repay him.

He appears to be lost in thought as he reads over the papers. "You really want nothing in return?" The only thing you had asked for in the divorce agreement was that he not seek you out and that your paths never cross again. You nod and finally he moves to sign them. You turn on your heel and walk out of the door, out of his manor. This corrupt part of the city and out of his life forever.

A sense of peace washes over you as you get into your car and turn the ignition. Ready to begin your own life.

****************************************************

And thus ends another one. I did make some tweaks to the original plot line I was given because it flowed better in this way. I do hope you don't mind. I stuck to what you gave me as much as possible. I hope you enjoyed this one

Tag list:

@tom-pls-fuck-me

@barbuse @mariposa666haruka @cosmocup1d @xthefuckerysquaredx @bokerayboke

@ellieevu @prettytemis @bananagoesbonkers4 @dreamerwasfound @sweet2wth

@tanspostsblog @linxiajei17 @jeondyy @alexatiu

[nanaslutt]

entering zenin clan as toji's little trophy wife

contains: fem reader, established relationship, age gap (not specified), misogyny, naoya needs his own warning, voyeurism, masturbation, choking, rough sex, riding, dirty talk, cumming inside (toji has a vacectomy), Toji is a good husband, praise

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Your large husband Toji stood in front of you, fastening the fabric around the kimono he had bought you for the special occasion. He himself was adorned in a dark blue kimono, the white fabric of the jupan peeking out from underneath the neckline of his kimono. He was wearing a pair of traditional setta sandals, you had never seen him look so formal and old-fashioned in your life.

"People really still wear this stuff?" You asked, watching him tie the light pink fabric in a bow that would rest on your hipline. Toji kept his eyes on his hands, working carefully, "You're making it too obvious you're not from a sorcerer family." He said, looking up under his dark eyelashes at you once he finished prettying you up. He took a step back, keeping his hands on your waist as he smoothed his hands down the sides of your hips, admiring his handiwork. A whistle from his lips made you blush, smiling up at the older man.

"Beautiful." He said, stepping up to you once again he pressed you against his chest, gripping his hands on the small of your waist he leaned down and kissed you softly, humming against your lips before pulling away. "Thank you Toji." You said, making the scar on his lip bend as a smirk graced his handsome features. "The geezers you're about to meet don't take kindly to.. women, they're old fashioned so do your best to stay close to me, not that I plan to leave you alone with them." Toji shivered internally thinking about what they would do to a pretty thing like you if he let you alone, not that he didn't have full faith in your skills, he knew you were strong, but he also knew how strong his family was.

"I figured out the old-fashioned part by the clothes, I guess misogyny just comes with that territory." You said lightly, making him huff out a laugh. "Don't take their words too seriously, especially Naoya, he respects me so It's hard to know if he'll say anything, but he's notorious for having a big fucking mouth." You watched Toji's expression while he spoke, a vein popping out under the skin of his forehead. "Especially with the women. I don't know if there's a single maid he hasn't harassed in some way or another." He said, growing irritated at the thought of him trying something with his wife.

"I can take it." You said, the soft touch of your fingers tracing Toji's cheek snapping him out of his annoying daydream, bringing him back to reality, his eyes shutting as he sighed, leaning into your touch. "We're just there for me to introduce myself, then we never have to see them again, right?" You asked, smiling when he cracked open his eyes and nodded at you. "What's the worst that can happen in a couple hours?" You spoke reassuringly. "You don't know my family." He sighed, covering your hand with his, pressing it harder agaisnt his face. "I wish I didn't either." His animosity made you smirk, he was working himself up too much.

"How did they even find out we got married?" You asked, Toji's hand dropping from your own as he stepped away to grab his phone on the table behind him and call for a ride. "Who fucking knows, they're so creepy they probably know your blood type and the time you were born by now." He mumbled, holding his phone up to his ear as it rang, reaching one of the drivers for the Zenin clan. You came up behind him, running your hands up his back, relishing in the feeling of the soft fabric of his kimono, before reaching his shoulders and massaging his shoulder gently as he spoke curtly to the man on the other side of the phone.

—

The two of you stepped out of the car, Toji first, taking your hand in his as you slid out after him, thanking the driver before you interlaced your arm in his. You were greeted by a kind-looking maid, she looked to be about ten years older than Toji, she bowed when the two of you approached. "Right this way Zenin." She said, glancing at the two of you before she raised her tired body and started a trail into the main building of the Zenin house. Toji cringed at the use of his last name, you felt his bicep tense when she uttered the word. You looked up at him, watching the muscles in his jaw flex as he repeatedly clenched his teeth together.

"I should be the one nervous." You whispered, receiving a glance from your husband, the shadow of a smile gracing his lips before he averted his gaze back in front of him, his eyes darting around to the familiar walls of his miserable childhood. "Being here makes me feel sick is all." He said. You absorbed his words, nodding to yourself as you looked forward, watching the fabric of the older woman's kimono crinkle on her back as she walked.

Toji had told you about his childhood before, but only the once; it was a sore subject after all. You knew it was a very toxic and abusive environment to grow up in, especially for Toji, as he was one to form his own opinions and morals, not letting anyone other than himself influence that; which his family did not appreciate in the slightest. "Here you are, please enter at your own pace." The woman spoke, looking Toji directly in the eyes and squinting before she bowed and walked away, following the hallway back the way you had just come down, presumably to complete some mundane task.

"She knows you, huh?" You asked, squeezing your arm tightly against his as the two of you stood feet from the massive sliding wooden doors that separated you from the main room, where his family was currently residing; chatter and laughter could be heard muffled through the thick wood. "That old dinosaur." Toji laughed quietly. "She was in charge of my main academic classes, would smack my hands with a ruler when I got an answer wrong, shit hurt." He said, you watched him smile, recalling the memory.

"And you're smiling?" You said, tilting your head confused. "Old hag was the only one who actually looked out for me in this hell hole." He said, shaking away the memory before looking down at you. "You ready sweetheart?" Toji asked, staring into your eyes fondly. When you nodded he leaned forward, pressing his plush lips to the top of your head before pulling back and taking a step forward, slipping his fingers into the inverted door handle he slid the door open, the loud grating of the wood announcing your arrival.

Immediately all chatter in the room stopped and all eyes were on you, not Toji, you. The aura in the room was suffocating, only a couple seconds in the presence of these men, and you had understood why Toji was acting so uncomfortable. They were strong, incredibly so, you could feel it. A man with long dark shaggy hair leaned back on the couch, his legs spread as he caressed his chin looking you up and down. You felt shivers crawl down your spine from his perverted gaze alone; his aura wasn't as strong as the others.

Continuing your scan around the room, your eyes landed on a younger-looking man with blonde- almost green hair, a brown halo of hair around his head, he gave you an incredulous look, man spread on the couch much like the last man, he had his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze focused on your chest, thankfully covered by the Kimono; and yet you still felt so exposed under his gaze.

Some other unmemorable men were scattered in the room, an old man with a high ponytail, a teen with short spiky hair, and a handful of longer hair wrapped in bandages behind his neck. One man stood out from the rest though, in terms of the sheer cursed energy radiating off of him, making you shiver, every hair on your body standing at attention. A silver-haired man, twice Toji's age, sat on the floor on a fancy-looking pillow in the center of the room, a half-empty whiskey bottle in his hand, his lips dripping the liquid. The man burped vulgarly, making you suppress a wince at the shameless action.

As much as his face alone looked perfect for the bottom of your foot, you knew this was a man who was absolutely not to be messed with. You guessed this was Nobito, Toji's uncle. "Toji tightened his arm around yours, keeping his gaze in front of him as you looked up through your lashes at him; he could feel your anxiety and was trying to silently tell you he was right there. Nobito laughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he raised to his feet, taking long strides toward you and your husband.

He stopped in front of you, ignoring Toji's presence completely. "Bagged a cute little woman, Toji." He laughed, looking at you when he spoke. You maintained composure, keeping eye contact with the wrinkled man in front of you, his breath reeked of alcohol. "Too bad she doesn't know her place." A voice interrupted. Toji's eyes looked to the voice, his face staying unexpressed, making eye contact with the source of the noise, Naoya. "Who does she think she is? Dumb woman doesn't know she should walk behind a man?" He said, scoffing, a look of disgust plastered on his face.

"When you get a wife, feel free to treat her however you like," Toji responded, deadpanning. "Insult my wife again, I'll cut out your tongue." Toji's deep asserting voice made you shiver, a heat creeping over your face at how he had defended you without a second thought. Naoya presented a toothy grin to Toji, a vein in his forehead popping out in annoyance. Suddenly it was too hard to breathe. "Now now, ten years of radio silence from you, and this is how you want our reunion to start?" Nobito tsked, keeping his face in front of yours but darting his eyes to meet Toji's.

"Nice to meet you, sir." You said, bowing respectfully, looking up at the old man under your lashes. He smiled, taking a couple steps back from you. "She's polite~" Another voice resounded through the room- the teen with the rat tail had spoken. "At least she can do something right," Naoya mumbled under his breath, the bitter words not being missed by Toji. You quickly reacted, squeezing your fingers into his arm to warn him not to do anything stupid. His nostrils flared on his otherwise blank face, his chest rising in a deep breath before leveling out again.

Nobito walked back to his seat and picked up the bottle of whiskey, grabbing a glass from the table in front of him he poured a generous amount before sitting and pushing the drink in your direction on the table. All their eyes were on the two of you, waiting for you to sit. Usually, you would sit down first, Toji making sure you were comfortable before sitting down next to you. In this setting, however, you weren't sure this was the best idea.

Unlacing your arm with his, you gestured towards the table with your hands before holding them in front of you, looking up at Toji. He paused, looking down at you before he started for the couch, you followed hot on his trail. Naoya smiled at this, not being able to shake the feeling that he had some influence on your actions. Toji held his hand out for you before you sat down. Placing your hand in his larger one, you sat next to him, your thighs touching with the proximity. He continued to hold your hand, placing tangled hands on your thigh as he gripped his over yours, enveloping it completely.

You pressed your knees together tightly, not wanting to reveal even a centimeter of your skin to the men around you if you could help it. Toji picked up the glass in front of him, bringing the caramel-colored liquid up to his lips before he was stopped by a hand grabbing his wrist. The shaggy-haired man had grabbed Toji, tsking, "Thats for your pretty little wife." He smiled maliciously, Nobito grinned, watching the interaction. "She doesn't drink." Toji was quick to retort, pushing though the grip on his wrist he tipped the glass into his lips, tasting the bitter liquid on his tongue before swallowing.

"You keepin' her pure?" Naoya's grating voice once again spoke. Toji was right, the man constantly had something to say, and none of it was good. "She even old enough to drink? Fuck, did you snatch up a young one?" He laughed, the sound making you cringe. "I can drink, I just choose not to." You responded, making the blonde-haired man's smile immediately flush off of his face as his gaze dropped to yours. "Why is your wife speaking right now?" He asked, the question directed at Toji, but his eyes were on yours.

"Only speak when you're being spoken to, and even then, make sure what you have to say is meaningful," Naoya instructed. You looked visibly taken aback. Oh he wanted to die huh?Toji thought, the vein in his forehead showing itself from under the skin. He swore he was going to come back here and strangle the man to death in his sleep, and he would enjoy every last second of it. Who the fuck was he to speak to you like that?

“I don’t tell her what to do, and you sure as hell won’t as long as I live either.” Toji growled, his grip tightening against your thigh. "Naoya." Another voice cut in before things could escalate. The man with the ponytail prevented Naoya from digging his grave deeper. Toji's eyes were glued to his younger cousins, his heartbeat racing in his chest as he tried to calm himself down.

You had no idea how much self-restraint Toji really had. Whenever a man even looked in your general direction you had to physically pull him back on his metaphorical leash so he didn't kill him on the street. He took a large gulp of the liquid once more, he couldn't tell if the bitterness was easing the angst he was feeling or increasing it. Naoya lost the glaring battle with Toji, scoffing as he looked away. "How old are you, Naoya?" Toji spoke, holding the glass of half-empty liquor on his thigh, spreading his legs. "Twenty-six." He replied.

Toji laughed curtly, raising his eyebrows before he released your hand and wrapped his arm around the back of the couch. "Don't you think It's time you find a wife? Or you been havin' some trouble findin' a woman who you don't have to beat to act like your dog?" Toji spat, making the younger man fume across the room. A snicker could be heard from the teenager to your left. You had to fight back your own smile, you're pretty sure you would get smacked upside the head by Naoya himself if you did.

“How did the two of you meet, dollface?” The man with the dark shaggy hair questioned you. Toji could obviously see you looked visibly uncomfortable at the nickname the man had used, squirming in your seat before your opened your mouth to speak, “Me and Dollface met through a mutual friend.” Toji interrupted, making the weight on your shoulders lift and dissipate into the air.

“Your friend know anymore cute young things like your wife here?” The man spoke again, directing his question to Toji but looking at the expanse of your covered body, they all did that and you hated it. “None that would be interested in an old pervert like you.” Toji responded, trying his best to laugh through the situation so his fist didn’t end up through someone’s stomach by the end of this.

"So, do you come from a sorcerer family?" Nobito interjected, taking a swig from the whiskey bottle. The questions never seemed to stop coming from every direction in the room. "No sir, I'm the only sorcerer in my family." You responded a couple chuckles could be heard throughout the room at your response. Naoya almost burst a blood vessel keeping what he really wanted to say at bay. Sure, you had a nice figure, and a pretty little face to match—but you were arrogant and had too much of your own personality. Naoya had an an inkling your relationship wasn’t as traditional as you were playing it out to be.

Toji deserved to be with someone who listened to him, who didn’t speak out of turn, who could actually walk behind a man. You must’ve been good in bed for Toji to have put a ring on your finger with all those flaws, he presumed.

"She's a first-grade sorcerer before you open your pathetic mouths again." Toji defended. You pressed your thighs together. He was so stoic and serious, it aroused you to no end, and the way he wasn't afraid to show you off, fuck it was doing things to you. Some “Ooh’s~” echoed through the room.

"Pretty and useful." The old man with the ponytail spoke. You averted your gaze to some corner of the room when you saw some nods throughout the room. "She cooks and cleans too?" Someone teased, creating more chuckles to emanate throughout the room. Toji clenched his jaw in annoyance. If his family knew that he did most of the cooking, he was sure at least 5 of them would have an aneurysm in this very room. At least he could be left alone without fear of starvation while he doubted these grown men knew how to cook something as simple as rice.

"When are you having a child? She doesn't look pregnant now." Naoya blurted out confused, his words indicating that the only thing a wife was good for was having children. You couldn't help but feel too aware of your own body at his words, realizing you could actually be perceived, and were actively being so in this moment. You kept quiet, looking up at Toji, waiting for his answer to come. Truthfully, you wanted kids with him at some point, but you were still so young. The two of you had talked about it briefly, at decided you would revisit the topic in a few years.

Toji brought his hand to wrap around the back of your shoulders, rubbing the skin there before he spoke. "She's too young to have kids now, maybe a few years," Toji answered curtly. Naoya looked flabbergasted, leaning forward on his elbows he spoke exasperatedly, "What? Nonsense, there's no such thing as too young to have kids-" barf. "Her eggs are going to be dried up in a couple years." His lackluster knowledge of a woman's body amused you, once again suppressing a laugh as you pretended to scratch the tip of your nose, hiding your mouth from view.

Toji picked up on your amusement, smiling before he spoke. "What would you know about a woman's body?" He challenged, sliding his hand across your shoulders to drop back down to your thigh, squeezing the fat through the fabric, making you feel a heat between your thighs. Naoya's lip curled up in annoyance, keeping his eyes on Toji's. "Let's take a break, yeah?" Nobito spoke, his voice coming out slurred. "We have a room for the two of you, dinner will be ready soon, we can catch and learn more about your little wife more then, hm?" he said, the words phrased as a suggestion but you knew it wasn't that.

"After you baby," Toji said, nodding his head at you. You smoothed your hands over your thighs as you stood, standing, you bowed before the men as Toji stood with you. "Nice to meet.. most of you." You said, licking your lips to conceal your grin as you started for the door. Toji smirked, making eye contact with Naoya's obviously irritated face before he wrapped his arm around your waist, his hand resting right above your ass as he let you out of the room, sliding the door shut behind the two of you.

"Well, that sure went!" you said, looking up at him and smiling through a cringe, making him laugh at your unfinished sentence, he knew exactly what you meant. "What you said at the end got me all worked up," Toji said, grabbing a handful of your ass as he started walking toward his old bedroom. "Huh?" You asked, confused. "No one talks back to that shitty guy, shoulda seen his face when you said that shit." Toji laughed. You caught on, realizing he was referring to your indirect jab at the blond-haired man before you left.

"Didn't realize bullying your family was one of your kinks." You teased, stopping in front of the doorway when Toji slid the door to his room open, holding his arm out atop the frame for you to go under. "You kiddin? Think it's higher up than my love for titty-fucking'" Toji teased, grabbing your hips as he followed you into the room. He shut the door with one hand behind him, before pulling you against his chest and pressing his lips to yours. "Sorry about those fuckin' assholes." Toji apologized, kissing the corner of your eye.

"It's not you who should be apologizing." You giggled, holding his face in your hands. "Plus, the way you were standing me up for me in there got me all wet." You leaned and whispered against his lips. "Yeah?" His deep voice whispered back, his breath tickling your lips as he hovered his mouth an arm hairs length away from yours. "Wanna see for yourself?" You asked, dropping one of your hands from his face to grab his wrist and bring it between the slit of your Kimono, under the jupan, so his large fingers were directly touching your damp panties. “Wanna hear how loud you can be for me, show these old fucks how good you take my dick.” Toji whispered, finally closing the distance and pressing your lips together.

—

In the other room, the men had not yet dispersed. Talking amongst themselves, they still collectively hung around in the main room. "She's a bold woman I'll give her that." The old man with the ponytail spoke with his arms crossed over his chest. Naoya fumed in his seat, his nose crinkling in disgust as he replayed your words over in his head. "Nice to meet... some of you." the fucking audacity. He was the heir to the Zenin clan, did you not know that? Talking to him like he's some trash, dumb woman.

"The only thing good about that noisy woman is her ass, what the hell does Toji see in her?" Naoya spoke, making Nobito laugh as he took another swig from the whiskey bottle, holding it by the neck. "She has a nice face, and she's undoubtedly strong if even Toji was willing to praise her like that in front of Nobito." The teen said, shrugging his shoulders. Naoya tsked, crossing his arms over one another, staring at some corner of the room angrily.

The locker room talk about your body and other discussions about you and Toji continued for a couple minutes before their talk was interrupted by a loud sound shrieking through the walls. The men raised their eyebrows, stopping all conversation as they waited to hear the sound again. "Agh!!" There it was again, the loud sound being muffled by the walls that separated them from the source. "The hell is that?" Naoya spoke first, his voice cutting into the otherwise silent room.

"Shh." Nobito hushed, setting the bottle down he scanned his eyes around the walls, waiting to see where the sound was coming from. "Ah-ah-ah!" He tilted his ear towards the direction of the sound when the moans came more steadily, his head tipping in the direction of where you and Toji were staying. Naoya was growing frustrated, already annoyed that his dad had hushed him in front of everyone. "Toji- Fuck-" That was all they needed to hear. Nobito let out a hearty laugh, as he raised to his feet, whiskey bottle in hand as he started for the sliding door that would take him to the garden.

Naoya's face was plastered with a blush, did you just-? "Fucking under Nobito's roof after being absent for a decade, heh~" The shaggy-haired man laughed. "He's marking his territory, bastard," Nobito spoke before sliding the door shut behind him, lounging on the edge of the deck. He thought you were eye candy, sure, but he didn't want to hear his nephew fucking his wife in front of him, he would rather be the one doing the fucking.

Toji's growls could be heard through the walls as he fucked into you, the sound of an old bed creaking through the walls was not missed by Naoya's ears. "Even her voice is cute." One of the men spoke. Naoya couldn't take this torture anymore, with his face completely flushed, he rose to his feet, walking quickly out of the room. "It's disgusting." Naoya spit, sliding the big wooden door loudly behind him.

Some maids were in the hallway gossiping when he exited. Giggling and covering their faces as they listened to Toji absolutely ruin your shit. His face burning hot as he leaned against the door, he glanced up at the women, "What the hell do you think you're doing? Get back to work." Naoya hissed, the woman immediately dispursing to finish their chores. He sighed when they were out of sight, finally looking down at his Kimono, he noticed a tent had formed at his crotch, he looked at it in disgust, scrunching his face up as he made quick work to his room, which coincidentally neighbored Toji's.

--

"You like that baby? Like when I fuck your tight little cunt like this? Toji groaned, gripping your hips as he brought your ass back to meet his thrusts, fucking his cock into your g-spot with pinpoint precision. "Y-yes Toji- Love it- love it so much!" You groaned. He had you face down, ass up, and his hips were being so fucking mean. Mercilessly he pulled his cock almost completely out, before bulling the entirety of his girth into your tight pussy, loud squelches filling the room at how wet you were.

"Yeah you do, take my cock-" thrust "so" thrust "fucking" thrust "well-!" He grit through his teeth, his hips colliding with your ass and making the fat ripple. He had only pushed your kimono up, revealing your pussy to him, he himself had only pulled his cock out through the slit, making it easier for him to get inside you faster after he briefly stretched you out on his fingers. "You're so pretty baby, fuck- such a good fucking wife-" He groaned, making a point to say that last part extra loud.

He didn't feel like he had anything to prove to his family, he knew how good you were to him, and how in love the two of you were. He just wanted to make them jealous, they were all old, ugly, and wifeless or had shells of women on their arms after all. He saw how they looked at you, how they tried to look through your Kimono and get even a sliver of skin to feast their eyes upon. He wanted them to know they would never, in a million years, get the chance, so here he was, fucking his lively young wife, bubbly and full of personality, in their prison of a home.

"Wanna ride me, baby? Let em' hear how good you fuck me?" He asked, not letting up his assault on your pussy. You drooled and whined into the sheets, gripping your nails into the expensive cloth as your body jerked and slid across the sheets from his manhandling. Riding Toji was a rare feat, it got him so worked up. The angle at which your pussy sucked in his cock, how deep he got, always made him relinquish control unconsciously, which is why it was so rare he let you ride him.

You nodded into the sheets, your words getting slurred together when you mumbled out "yesyesyes" while he fucked you. Toji laughed, pulling out his cock he continued to jerk it slowly, spreading your juiced all over him before he plopped on the bed next to you, holding your outer hip to pull you towards him as he got comfortable against the sheets. With shaky legs, you slung them over Toji's hips, watching him still jerk his cock in his large hand as you situated your pussy to hover right over his fat tip.

"Sit down baby, fuck me." He said the smile your husband had on his face being controlled by lust and love together. His eyes immediately rolled to the back of his head when you sat down on his cock, his abs clenching and legs twitching as you eased his length into you. "Fuuuuck, that's good~" He groned, tipping his head back into the pillows as your pussy swallowed up his cock to the hilt. He could feel every bump and ridge of your cock, your warmth, how fucking tight you were in this position--he already felt himself going dumb.

"Fuck me baby, bounce on my fucking cock-" Toji begged, his hands coming to grip your hips and aid you the best he could in lifting you off his cock and slamming you back down on it. "God~ Toji, you're f-filling me up!" You whined, starting a quick pace on him, pressing your hands against his pecs for stability as you gound your clit against his pelvis every time his cock bottomed out inside you. Toji had his eyebrows scrunched together, his jaw dropped open as he moaned freely into the room, his moans overshadowing yours.

"Y-yeah? Feel my b-big cock fuckin' up 'ur guts?" Toji laughed through a deep whine, trying to watch his length disappear into your pussy when you sat down on it, but he was having a hard time keeping his eyes forward in their sockets. "Yes, Toji- fuck!" You cried out when one of his hands came down to rub his thumb against your clit. The added stimulation made you ride him harder as you chased your orgasm. He loved touching your clit not only because it made you feel good and he loved seeing your reactions to it, but also because your pussy tightened up like it was trying to constrict his cock when he did so.

His body jerked forward every time his dick slid inside you, his deep voice laughing through his arousal when you stopped your bouncing and instead ground against him. The movements made his cock rub against your sweet spot deep inside you. He watched your head tip back as your nails dug into his chest at how good you were feeling. "Choke me baby, cmon~" Toji begged quietly into the air, needing to feel your smaller hand squeeze around his neck when you came.

One of your hands slid up the expanse of his chest, traveling over the fabric of the Kimono as you splayed your fingers out along his neck, giving him a squeeze. The smirk on his face grew tenfold, a dopey grin spreading across his features. "Yesyesyes baby- yesss-" His words were slurred, his eyes rolling back every time his cock was forced against your walls from your incessant humping along his pelvis.

"Baby I'm gonna cum-" You spoke breathlessly, squeezing your hand tighter around his throat as you were brought closer and closer to your high. Toji was getting dizzy, not just from you choking him out, but from watching you shut your eyes and hump yourself on his dick, getting yourself off on him like he was some sex toy--and he fucking loved it. "Yeah- use me baby, use me, cum all over my dick baby please~" He groaned, his jaw falling open and closed like a fish out of water, his eyebrows scrunching shut as he watched your orgasm crash over you.

Your hand around his neck loosened when you came, your orgasm wracking through your body as you jerked and twitched on top of him, your hips losing their rhythm. That was Toji's sign to take over. He abandoned his thumb on your clit and brought his hand back up to join the other in grabbing your waist. He planted his feet on the bed and started pistoning his hips against your ass like a madman. He fucked you through your orgasm and into overstimulation as he brought himself to his own high.

He watched you grit your teeth and squeeze your eyebrows together, pushing through the painful pleasure. "Almost there baby- doin' so good letting me use you like this- fuck-" He praised, shaking his head agaisnt the sheets as he watched your body bounce limply on top of him. Toji was too fucked out to announce before he came, but you knew. His hips lost their rhythm, his voice got higher and higher in pitch before he stilled his hips against your ass.

He groaned hard as he felt the first ropes of his cum shoot inside your pussy. He shot his body up and wrapped his arms around your torso, hiding his face in your neck as he bit down hard against the skin there, letting your cunt milk his balls as his hips stuttered agaisnt you, his cock releasing all of his seed as deep as he could into you. "Fuuuck-" He groaned against your skin when he started coming down from his high.

You pulled your head back, grabbing his face between your hands you pressed your lips to his, breathing heavily against his lips as the two of you kissed passionately. You pulled away, smiling at his flushed face, "Probably sounded like we just made a baby." you giggled, wiping the sweaty strands of his hair from his forehead. "If they ever find out I got a vasectomy, they might have a heart attack," Toji smirked, making you giggle as he peppered kisses on your face. "So maybe we should." He added, dropping his kisses to your neck as the two of you embraced each other, his softening cock still snug in your walls.

In the room over, a fuming Naoya sat on the edge of his bed, his jerking slowing over his softening cock, covered in his own cum as he tried to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Fucking... bitch.." He whispered into the room, covering his ashamed face with the back of his arm as he flopped back agaisnt his sheets.

—

The two of you spent another hour cleaning up and enjoying each other's company as you sat outside of Toji's room, your back against the wall of the sliding glass door, Toji sitting in front of you, your clothed feet in his hands as he massaged them softly, listening to you speak. "You ready to leave, princess?" He asked when the conversation died down. You sighed, "I wish your family weren't such assholes, food always tastes better when it's free." Your husband gigged as you retracted your legs, pulling on your sandals as the two of you stood to your feet.

"I'll take you out tonight, you look so pretty in this after all, it would be a waste to not enjoy you out like this," Toji said, walking up to you and holding your waist in his hands as he gave you a one-over. You smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips before the two of you made your way back inside to say your goodbyes to the men of the household.

Entering the same room you met them all in before, they were all in their respective places, even Naoya. They all looked over at the two of you as the doorway slid open, Toji's hand on your waist. "We won't be staying for dinner, it's been awful, as always," Toji smirked, looking around the room but spending a little extra time on Nobito and Naoya. You smiled in faux politeness, the bright red bite mark on your next standing out like a sore thumb when you tipped your head to the side. "You think you can just use my home as some sex hotel, and leave?" Nobito asked incredulously, raising en eyebrow at Toji before taking a large swig of the alcohol. You silently prayed he would die in this moment of alcohol poisoning.

Naoya's face was bright red as he stared at the pair of you in disgust, his observant eyes picking up the bruises across Toji's neck from you stranging him in bed. "Watch us." You replied, which made a proud Toji Zenin look down at you and smile. The two of you backed up and shut the door behind you, leaving quickly without another word.

[bks-writing-adventures]

Four Is Plenty (Aemond X Pregnant! Reader)

Warnings: Pregnancy, fluff, mentions of poop and genitals.

When Aemond married you, he had many things envisioned. But this was not one of them. Watching you waddle around, grumbling and mumbling as you dropped your book. He smiled, trying to not look too amused. It hadn’t taken you long to get pregnant at all, for two weeks after your wedding night, blood did not fill the chamberpot. It became clear very quickly that you were pregnant, and now, at nine months, you were just moments away from bursting.

He had never seen a woman look so humongous, but of course he would not tell you that. “Allow me to help, my love,” He spoke, picking up her book and pressing kisses to her fingertips. He and the lords had an ongoing bet going, since they were all certain that you had more than one baby trapped up inside you. His bet was three, and Ser Criston was sure it would only be one humongous baby. 

“I hate this.” You mumbled, and he sighed softly in response as his hands moved to cup your stomach. He had read all the books he could find on pregnancy and child care, his palms on the bottom of your belly, lifting gently to help relieve you of your pain.

 “Do not fret. It will be any day now, and you will feel better than ever before,” He spoke, rubbing over the stretchmarks that formed all over your belly like tiger stripes. “

I am simply excited to be able to sleep on my belly again,” You grumbled, whining as he slowly let go of your belly, leaving you to deal with all the weight again. “I hope the birth is not too great of a pain, and I hope the midwives do not scream in my face,” You spoke, and he smiled as he kissed both of your cheeks. They had gotten nice and round with your weight gain, and he absolutely loved the way you looked. 

“I promise they will not. I will be there the whole time,” He spoke, stroking your hair.

 “Hm…” You mumbled, moving to go take your afternoon nap, a pillow at her lower back to relieve the ache. He laid in bed next to you, tracing his fingers over your nose and hairline, your collarbone and your belly. He was addicted to touching you, watching your cheeks get pink, feeling your breath along his wrist. As he traced small swirls onto your swelling belly, he felt a wetness forming under him. His brows scrunched, and he quickly sat up, the breath leaving his lungs when he saw your lounge gown covered in fluid.

Your water had broke. He cleared his throat, trying his best not to panic as he quickly got to his feet and rang the bell he had installed just for this occasion. Slowly, your eyes began to open up. You were so sleepy that you felt as though your eyes wer glued shut, eyes getting wide as you felt the soggy blankets under you. It felt so gross and sticky that you could cry, and you did, as the room began to flood with people. It was so stressful, and you could hardly think as they propped you up and started wiping your head and face with a cold cloth. 

“It is okay, my lady. It is okay, simply spread your legs and let us look,” One of them said lightly. She was young and calm, and her attitude was slowly melting into you. It made you feel much better that they were not freaking out, that they seemed confident that you would be just fine. And maybe you would be. From a young age, it was one of your greatest fears to die in childbirth- and hesitantly, your thighs parted, and you let one of the midwives take a peek. 

“Okay, we are at one inch,” She said quietly. You weren’t sure how much it was supposed to be, but the smile on her face made you smile too, nodding slowly. Aemond was over educated on the ways of birth, and you had chosen to remind blissfully ignorant. That way, you would be less afraid when the time came. And less afraid you were, eyes wandering across the ceiling. You had spent your days painting it, and from down here, the small patches that you were able to paint looked so insignificant. 

“When this baby is out, I will make a portrait of us.. Right there,” You spoke, pointing up at the ceiling, right at the center. 

“I’m sure it will be beautiful,” He said gently, kissing your palm. 

“Do you have any ideas for names, My Lady?” one of the midwives asked, and your mind wandered. You were not a big fan of most Targaryen names, as they sounded rather silly. But there were one or two that you would not mind.

 “I like Aenys, for a boy,” You said, noticing how Aemond sighed quietly against your hand. 

“I would prefer Maegor,” He said gently, and you smiled in return. 

“That is nice, dear. But as I said, I like the name Aenys. And for a girl….” You trailed off, trying to think. Too many Valyrian girl names sounded the same. There was already a Rhaenys, a Rhaenyra, and a Rhaena. Family dinners were getting far too complicated. 

“What about Alysanne?” Your husband asked softly, brows scrunched as he looked down between your legs. He would be lying if he said that it was a pleasant sight, and he swallowed his discomfort as his eye wandered back to your face, watching a pleasant expression grow on your features. 

“Alysanne. That is sweet. I like that,” You nodded, not knowing what was to come. As the hours grew later, you grew rather bored. Your stomach grumbled, but you could not eat, the nurses insisting that you would throw any food right up.

 “This child sure is taking its time,” You commented as you made an attempt to sit up, the midwives gently nudging your shoulders. “Relax,” You told them quietly, eyes narrowing a little. “I can move,” You spoke, reaching toward the bedside table for your latest read.

 “Shall we get the maesters to quicken the process?” One offered, and you pondered the thought before gently shaking your head. “I would prefer not to be surrounded by men,” You said, licking your finger tip as you pulled on the brittle page of your book, your eyes wandering over the words. “The child will come when it is ready,” You mumbled. The night was tense, and with every breath, the midwives jumped. It would not be for a few hours that you let out a loud grunt, gripping your belly. “Gods above!” You shouted, and Aemond jumped to your side. You hadn’t realized just how sharp the pains would be, your toes curling up. 

“Its okay, its okay,” He mumbled, trying to soothe you. You let out a loud groan, holding air in your lungs as your midwife let you know that you were at two inches or so.

 “Is that good?” You choked out, and Aemond smiled at you, all of his teeth showing. It was a rare sight, as he usually kept his expressions to the absolute minimum. 

“Very good, my love. Within the hour, we will have a babe in our arms,” He murmured, and you had never seen him look so proud. And like magic, when half an hour passed, you grunted loudly, clawing into his leather jacket, leaving crescent moons of your nails in the fabric. 

“Shh, shhhh….” He murmured, and you almost shouted at him. It took a second to realize he wasn’t trying to hush you, but rather trying to comfort you, and slowly, you let him. 

“It is crowning, my lady!” A midwife whispered, her eyes full of awe. It was an odd feeling, being a spectacle. Everyone just staring at your vagina. 

“Thats… nice,” You mumbled, your face scrunching up as they rubbed our face with a cold cloth. 

“You’re doing incredible, my lady. Perhaps the best i’ve ever seen.” A voice said gently, helping to hold your legs apart. Your cheeks got pink, and you curled up a little. You grunted loudly, your face bright red as you felt all your muscles tense and relax, your eyes snapping open. This was the grossest thing ever, and a maid simply pulled the bedpan out from beneath you, going to a small bin to simply throw out your mess as crying filled the room. Your hands reached for your face, and to your great surprise, the cries were not your own, and when you finally looked down, you could see the midwives gently touching the shoulders of an infant, helping to pull out the child. 

“Be careful!” You shouted loudly. 

“I am, my lady. The most careful I can be,” You had to praise the midwives, you could never have the patience. You felt a bit bad for yelling, but the pain overrid any guilt you could feel. 

“That is one…” Aemond whispered softly, tracing over your arm. 

“Do you wish to cut the cord?” He was offered.  You mumbled softly, looking away as they gave him scissors. It made you anxious. You just had to hope he wouldn’t mess things up, sighing in relief as they finally put the infant on your chest. It was slightly slimy and still red in the face, wailing quietly. But gods, was it the best thing you’d ever seen in your life. 

“Is it a boy or a girl?” You whispered softly, looking up to be met with Aemond’s glowing face. 

“A boy,” He whispered softly, and you felt your eyes getting wet as the baby suckled on your chest, getting nice and quiet. 

“Aenys.” You mumbled quietly, and for a few minutes, everything was calm, until you felt a rumble in your tummy.

 “Is it the after birth?” One of the midwives asked, coming to your help, eyes going wide as she stared at you. 

“What?” You asked softly, looking over at Aemond as he leaned over, too. 

“Its another!” He exclaims, his voice joyous and loud. 

“Shhhh…” You mumbled, eyes shut. You were so focused on the baby on your breast, and it didn’t even hurt anymore. Everything was a daze as they whispered and squealed, and before you knew it, another baby was crying, and your brows were furrowed. 

“Twins..” You mumbled, smiling a little as they put the baby on your other breast. “Boy or girl?” You murmured softly, too exhausted to look. 

“A girl,” Aemond told you gently, rubbing your shoulders, squeezing the tension out with his thumbs. 

“A girl..” You repeated, smiling lazily. “Hmmm…” You grumbled, ignoring the rest of the sounds around her. You didn’t even know what was happening anymore, but no one seemed afraid, so slowly, you drifted to sleep. You didn’t know how much time had passed when you woke, but you could hear about a dozen voices, and feel cloth over your body. Your eyes cracked open slowly, the afternoon light assaulting your irises, making you hiss softly in distaste. 

“The curtains,” You heard a voice say, and lovely shade covered you, following the sound of the curtain rings dragging across the rods. 

“I have never seen so many newborns at once,” As the sleepiness began to fade away, you could focus on the voices more, and slowly, you began to sit up. In your unconscious state, they had put you in a nice, powder blue nightgown, and your hair was pulled away from your face, fresh sheets on the bed. You must have been as still as stone. 

“Ah, she is awake,” you felt a hand come to your head, frowning for a moment before your eyes focused, seeing your mother in law in front of you. 

“You must be exhausted, but you have done us all so proud,” she said gently, kissing the top of your head. She was holding a baby, but it was not one that you had seen, and for a moment, you didnt’ even think it was yours, until you saw those pudgy cheeks and strong browbone. Your eyes slowly wandered. There were four cribs in the room. Your heartbeat picked up, blinking slowly. “Quadruplets. I cannot believe it,” Alicent spoke, but her voice slowly faded out. Four. You hadn’t been ready for that, you ready for two, at most. 

“We set Aenys aside so we do not confuse him for the others,” Aemond said softly, coming toward you, a baby in each arm. One swaddled in violet, the other in a rosy color. 

“Two boys and two girls. I have never seen anything more perfect,” He whispered softly. “Do you want to hold the girls? You haven’t named them yet. Though, i’ve been calling this one Alysanne, and she seems to like it,” he says, kissing the forehead of the one wrapped in rosy plush. She was surely the runt of the litter, her little nose twitching with his kiss. You hummed, gently taking the other, the one wrapped in violet satin. Once you could get a good look at her face, you smiled at the wisps of gold and white along her scalp, curling up into little coils. Her cheeks were rosy and fat, and her brows were practically invisible.

 “...Daeryn. Rynnie for short,” You spoke, and he smiled softly. 

“I hope you do not mind, wife, but I decided to name the other boy,” He said sheepishly, making your brows raise. You did not mind, of course, you just hoped that it wasn’t an ugly name. While he enjoyed the name Maegor, you found it rather boring, it tasted like sour ash on your tongue. “Do not worry, I did not name him Maegor,” He spoke, practically reading your mind, and Helaena spoke up from her seat by the window. 

“I would not let him.” She says, making you smile. 

“So what is this wonderful name you picked?” You asked, looking up at him as Daeryn’s little hand curled around your finger. 

“Aelorn,” He spoke, his expression hopeful. It was not your favorite name, but seeing his expression, so sweet and genuine, you nodded. 

“I like it.” You said softly, letting him give you the smallest of kisses on your dry lips. 

“We will have to have more clothes made,” He said softly, letting out a small laugh. 

“You may use the ones I have from the twins,” Helaena spoke up, setting her embroidery project down on her lap. Curious, you looked over, seeing fou little baby faces stitched into the fabric, your heart warming up at the sight. 

“So, when will you start trying again?” Alicent asked, half teasing and half serious, making Aemond blink slowly.

 “Trust me, Mother. Four is plenty.” He smiled, and you could not help but agree. Yesterday, you expected one child. And now you had enough to last a lifetime. And honestly? You’d never been happier.

Thank you so much to everyone who reads! I'm thinking about having the quadruplets as recurring characters and making a little mini-series of them growing up. Thoughts?

[lustlovehart]

Bitten Hope

A/n: loosely inspired by @merakiui ‘s DRU Jade and Death Row Floyd, not exact though, but I really liked her writing on their serial killer counterparts and took inspo!!

Pairing: Serial Killer! Jade Leech x Reader x Serial Killer! Floyd Leech

Summary: Interrogating criminals is your job, it’s rare for that to go wrong. Though, it’s even more rare for them to be infatuated with their investigator.

Warnings: Heavy Yandere [mdni] , Blood, Biting, Cuffing, Kidnapping, Violence, Dub-con kissing (not on mouth), aged 18+, Imprisonment

You’re stood on the other side of the one-way-looking glass. You can see them, but they can’t return that gaze. The two of them aren't eerily silent. No… they’re laughing and conversing as if this was just a regular brotherly reunion. To them, it might just be that, two brothers who are finally talking to one another after a year of only speaking through calls.

“Seems you’re still the same, Floyd”

“Well duhh, I don’t have that time you do to plan them out, I jus’ wanna get it over with”

“Perhaps that’s why you were caught much earlier than me.”

“Well you got jailed too so that doesn't change anythin’” Floyd leans back in the chair, his head craning up to look at the bright buzzing lights of the room.

“Ya think they’re gonna bring Shrimpy in?“

To this statement, the other twin looks at him, curiosity filled in those mismatched eyes.

“My, are you saying [name] is here?“

“Oh right, I didn’t tell ya cuz it woulda’ been lame if you knew,“ his head jumps back into place, a bubbly smile replacing his previously disinterested expression, “Yep! Shrimpy’s here, ain’t that nice~“

On the other side of the glass, you’re left balling your fist into itself.

How… How could they—!

A steady hand on your shoulder breaks your trance, the familiar sight of bright red somewhat comforting the tension in your joints.

“They were off-putting in our school years but, no one would’ve known how it was gonna turn out this way.” You place your hand above his, offering a smile to him to show your body easing itself.

“Yo Jade.”

“Yes?” Once again, Floyd’s mood changes, shifting from cheerful to… scary. The same aura can be felt from Jade but to a more concealed degree.

“I wanna break the glass.” You and Riddle's head turn immediately at the man’s suggestion.

“Pray tell how would you do that?” he tilts his head and strikes his signature close-eyed smile at his twin “And why do you wanna do that?”

“Dunno, wait till these cuffs come off.” His hands lift as the sound of clanging chains resonate through the empty room, his brother only smiling as he looks down at his own. “And I don’t like the vibe I got on the other side.”

You quickly move out of Riddles range, his hand grasping for where your shoulder previously was.

“Wha— You’re going in alre—?! [Name]—” You don’t reply, the sound of the door swinging open and shutting filling the silence of the space.

“Oh my. You should be more careful, any stronger and we could’ve broken free from these.” You sit on the other side of the steel table, crossing your legs as you lean into the cold metal.

Floyd’s been on death row for a month now, but he hasn’t given any leads. And Jade… he just got here. Maybe if the both of them are together we can…

“When. You can tell me.”

“When are we gonna marry Shrimpy? As soon as we get out—“

“No. When did you start? Killing. When did you start being murderers.” Jade lays his hands on the table, his biceps and forearms visibly buff as well as veiny.

“When do you think?”

“ Are you avoiding the question?”

“No, of course not, I’m just simply asking if you know—“ Floyd’s upper half quickly flops onto the surface, a loud sigh interrupting you and Jade.

“Since the last year of school, now can we talk about Shrimpy ‘stead, talkin bout us is boring”

“Floyd…” Jade's lips are pursed in a line, he expected his brother's outburst but he hoped it would come later compared to sooner.

“Whaat, the faces people made when I strangled them aren’t fun to think about anymore,” his body stays flopped, only turning his head as his smile is aimed towards you. “So shrimpy, yah still single right~? Savin marriage for us yeah?”

“You… I am not!”

“But you’re still available? I see.” Their flirtatious comments only serve as a way to piss you off even more.

“You two… I’m not going to marry serial killers…!”

“Then do not think of us as killers, think of us as your lovers.”

“I will not…! Ugh… just be quiet and answer me.” They don’t reply only giving you the smiles they would flash at you when school was still happening. I can’t be obvious with my questioning—

“About 250.”

“Jade, what are you talking about…?”

“You were about to ask us how many victims we’ve had yes?”

…

…What? What? We only linked 8 of those murders to Jade how could he possibly—

“Floyd, what about you?” Floyd looks up at the sky, his face almost cartoony as he ponders about the answer as if he’s on TV.

“Uhhh, dunno. I didn’t count. Was a big number too though.

… How did these two even—

…

“ Where are these people now? How did you do it to them?”

“Shrimpy wants to know real bad huh’. Okay, I’ll tell yah.“ you didn’t think his grin could grow any bigger but it does, somehow. “but yah gotta lean in close.”

Ignoring the obvious risk of getting too near, if you do this… you have the opportunity to finally know what’s happened to all these people. All those missing person cases… you can find out just how many of them were the faults of these two.

You look back at the glass for a moment. Knowing that Riddle is on the other side eases your tension, albeit only a little. Well…

You hope he’s on the other side.

Your body slowly leans towards him, each second making you wanna back out, but pushing through it despite that gnawing feeling.

Floyd’s smile seems to be the biggest it's ever been. His face comes closer to your own, his voice low as the whisper that leaves his lips sends chills throughout your body.

“Ya ready?”

It happens too fast. He’s swift with the movement, before you can fully lean back to avoid it, you can feel it. His lips are felt on your cheek before the tender texture is replaced with sharp edges that dig into the nape of your neck. Your fingers lock into his hair, immediately pulling yourself free from his Jaws.

The chair you originally sat on is knocked back onto the floor. The clattering sound of the seat resonated through the walls.

“Awwww shrimpy looks cute with red all over!” He flashes his teeth, once white canines, are now painted in red. The sight makes you freak out, both of your hands flying up to the wound in your neck, putting immediate pressure on the bite.

He didn’t hit anything vital, only deep enough to bleed me… but if I don’t get this wrapped up it might get infected.

You don’t spare them any more words, immediately walking to the door and gripping the handle. You swing it down pulling the exit inwards.

…

It won’t open.

It won’t…

“My I do wonder where that other officer went…” Your head stays locked on the handle, not even daring to turn back to face them.

“Goldfish s’out already? I wanted him to see you in red, ain’t that his favorite color?”

“How did you…?”

“Tarts, they do smell incredibly sweet, don’t they? Though, I do prefer eating their consumers instead.” It’s uncanny. Jade is putting on that… that smile…! He’s spotless, unlike his brother, the brother that’s exuding such a joyful aura with blood splattered on his mouth… The brother doesn’t seem bothered at all by the iron liquid that is absorbed in his jumpsuit.

“So that’s how… That’s how you covered up the rest of your victims…”

“Yes. Now do you understand self-control as well?” His eyes slowly trail down to your hands as he speaks, his tongue quickly wiping his lips before retreating inside. “It takes a lot of restraint to not take a bite out of such a lovely meal. I’m quite jealous of Floyd.”

“You wanna…?”

“Eat you? Oh no, not anymore. But, just a little nibble doesn’t hurt any—“

Clang!!

Your focus is caught by the sudden explosion of sound. Your eyes quickly shift to the interruption.

“So that’s how you gotta do it. It ain’t that much Jade, you jus’ pull up real hard.”

…

Floyd is out.

“It was that simple? Then let’s be quick.” Jade follows his brother's instructions, the same clanging sound ringing in the space. “It’s much more comfortable not having our hands chained to that cold metal table. It seems I even have bruises on my wrist from such capture.” He’s not lying, his wrists are littered with purple bruises, but you bet he was the one who caused those himself, not the cuffs.

“Look look!” the two of them circle the table, each step they take more menacing than the last. “Jades got a booboo on him, you gonna kiss it all nice and better right~“

Jade plays along seamlessly, wiping away tears that aren’t there at all. “Yes… It hurts a lot, it would feel much better if someone made it all better.“

“you…! I’m not going to-!“

“Jades hurt. You gonna fix him or what?“ His voice is deep, it’s not playful anymore, and his face is practically inches from your own, it’s horrifying... If you keep rejecting them you… You don’t wanna guess what’ll happen.

Riddle… Deuce… Why isn’t anybody coming?! Even if Riddle left for a moment he should be back, even then someone would’ve checked up on us…! Where… where…?!

“Won’t you heal me, nurse?“

This was so stupid! I should’ve come in with Riddle, or told him to come in with me! With how quickly I rushed in I didn't bring any of my weapons I’m…!

Your knees give out beneath you, falling onto the floor while the twins followed you down. Your fingers reach towards Jade, pulling his limb close to your mouth. The two of them smile at you, watching carefully each movement with an overabundance of joy.

Your lips make contact with the skin of his wrist. You don’t focus on the texture of his hand, only putting all your attention on this task.

“It still hurts dear, I would like more.“

This is humiliating.

“Shrimpy’s cute kissin’ you like that, I wanna take another bite.“

You keep going with Jade, placing more kisses on that one wrist before transferring to the next one.

Someone… Anyone please…!

Floyd leans into the side of your neck, the side completely clean and, un-marked. His mouth opened and his hot breath coated the skin of your side. You don’t stop your assault on Jade's hands, only acting as if Floyd isn’t readying himself to bite you again.

I’m gonna die. These two are gonna kill me.

To your right, wind blows next to you, the brighter light of the hallways illuminating into the room.

Someone… Someone came…! I’m free…!

“Rid–!... dle…?“

“You two… You couldn’t wait any longer than 20 minutes could you?!“

A man wearing a black hoodie and surgical mask walks in, the baseball cap and sunglasses covering any distinguishing traits he could possess.

“Ah, seems we forgot. Forgive us Azul.“

“It's not our fault you took so long, it wasn’t fun waitin’, we just wanted to mess with Shrimpy for a bit, s’not fair you got to play while we were locked in here.“

No… No…!

It’s been years since you’ve seen the con man. His looks have changed, but, he’s still the same it seems.

Hopefully… he doesn’t work out. Distantly, you can remember a point in time when you had wrestled Azul during your school years, albeit it was more of a surprise attack than an actual fight. You won against him.

Against the twins, even in NRC they had insane strength, so directly fighting them would’ve been a death wish, but with Azul, you might have a chance.

You pull all your leftover strength into your calves, pushing yourself up from the space between Floyd and Jade, ready to throw yourself at the man.

Before you even have a chance you’re pulled back down as a needle is pointed at your face. Jade's hand is tightly wrapped around your throat as Floyd’s arms squeeze around your waist.

“It’s rude to leave in the middle of a ‘party’ Is that not what you said to us back then?”

“You guys are leaving? Why?! A… special meeting? But I made all of you presents…! Look, I spent so much time making little eels and even an octopus…! Don’t go yet—! Oh, you’re not…? Great!”

“Where… Where’s Riddle…? Deuce…? Please I need to know—”

“They’re alive. Just asleep.” Azuls eyes look to the side, a little red blob reflected on his lenses when he turns.

“Really…? Good good…”

“But only if you behave.” His leather shoes take a few steps forward before kneeling down, his eyes scanning your body. Mostly unharmed, besides the vicious bite Floyd left on you. “Floyd did you really—” his eyes pinch together before his finger massages the nose of his bridge, the most exhausted exhale leaving his mouth at the sight,” It's… whatever, unless you two wanna stay on death row we have to go now.”

My best choice is to let them go, I'm unarmed and no one else is coming so… I’ll just use the building's cameras to figure out what they plan to do next.

“You guys can leave, no ones… no one’s going to stop you—” your body is lifted into the air, your stomach having the sharp pain of a shoulder blade driving into it.”w-wait stop…!” your legs kick and flail all around, but the hold Floyd has on your body doesn’t falter for a second.

Before you can lift your arms to hit him from behind, Jade locks them together using a spare pair of handcuffs he stole off Riddle’s unconscious body. His finger plays with the chain between the cuffs as a smirk plays on his lips at your struggle.

“I wouldn’t advise it.” His finger makes your hands move up and down before hooking the underside with his index. He doesn’t let up, successfully locking your hand from further use.

“We have 10 minutes to drive out of here, you two are lucky this place is on the edge of town.”

No… Please…!

Before you leave the room, your eyes take a glance at Riddle's body. It’s only a slight bit of movement, but you can see him stir up, his head turning to face the doorway.

He can’t move. It’s over.

The last thing you see before being swept away is the bright red of his pupils widening at the sight of you bitten and taken.

“[Name]… Stop… Don’t take…!”

A quick glance is all it takes before his eyes shut close again, the last thing his vision pieces together being the sight of your form carried away from view. The tall silhouettes of Jade and Floyd shrouding in shadows as they leave through the doors, the hooded figure waving his hand before following behind. The trail of officers littered behind them is a sad sight.

As they leave, their disappearance will leave a stir in their community, all that’s left being the view of their successful escape.

“[Name] [Last], missing, please call 911 if any leads.”

———

This is leaning towards heavier dark tones than what I usually write, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway <3

[lady-ashfade]

Please do a alicent hightower x rhaenrya targayren twin brother who she marries and become princess consort. Alicent want him to herself ,so she tries break relationship with the male oc and rhanearya.

Manipulation

Yandere!Alicent Hightower x Male!Reader

I made this last night very late, the sun rising. But I just now reread it and idk if you meant rhaenrya marrying the reader or Alicent. But I made this think Alicent married the reader because that’s what I did all the way through until I went back to edit it. I apologize but I still hope you like it!

Warnings: Yandere tactics, manipulation, obsession, stalking, one mention of something gory.

Readers very existence changed everything about what happened, there would be no war. Do to the reader being the first born son, raised along side rhaenrya he would be it’s rightful hair.

Aemma was proud to have birthed a son for Viserys and a beautiful daughter. She loved her children and always kept a close eye on them, them both being strong headed.

Viserys loved both of them equally. But most of his time was filled with teaching y/n how to be a man and one day a king. From the age of three he took y/n with him on hunts, a memory he cherishes deeply. Rhaenrya was with her mother and was the talk of all the ladies as they gushed over her Beauty.

This being said rhaenrya was raised to believe in her brother who she loved to death. He was her twin and the gods created them together to be in this world. So as time went on she did not resent her brother because she did not feel like she was being replaced for a male heir.

Alicent knew y/n for a short time while she was by the young princess side. Y/n loved to play with rhaenrya and in his free time spent most of it with her. Alicent, being her best friend, was there a lot. He was charming and even though he was younger she never failed to blush when he would comment her. He was a gentleman, his mother and father made sure of it. But y/n never really payed that much attention because he was talking with his sister.

A feeling started to fill her mind of wanting his attention to on her so she started to speak up more. She’d dropped somethings and the reader would help, or get close to him and say something. Her crush got deeper and within a year after realizing, she had fallen deeply in love with the prince. Her attitude started to change when he was around and become all about him. Butting in on conversations, grabbing his arms slightly.

Things took a change when the prince was sent to study in Pentos and around the world to become a better king. Alicent was heartbroken over this news and she cried for days. She never was the same again. After two years her obsession slowly faded but she always seemed to think of him when she got lost in thought. His laugh, the way he made her smile and feel.

Rhaenrya looked passed her obsession for a small crush and did not blame Alicent back then since they were children. Her brother was a handsome boy and she couldn’t blame alicent. Tho, she did like to tease her friend sometimes.

Alicent and Rhaenrya sat together while Alicent read to her. They laughed and tried to get by with rhaenryas consent bickering and pokes of fun. But the city rang of a dragons roar and a deep one at that, their eyes looked up and saw a black dragon with spikes fly above them and casted a shadow down.

Rhaenrya hops up with a huge smile and a laugh, “He’s back.” She shot up and ran off without another word. Alicent was panicking to grab all the stuff she had brought and follow the princess. As she ran her chest filled with butterflies and her mind flashing of images of the boy she remembers. He was still young but could he have grown a beard? How tall was he now? Would he remember her, or better yet, would he be kind to her? She felt sick but her feet ran faster to see her prince.

When they got outside to the dragon pits she placed the books on the ground and grabbed ahold of rhaenrya in excitement. They watch his dragon land and the ground shake below their feet. The beasts mouth opened and screamed at the top of its lungs, a faint male voice shouting. Y/n petted his dragon and spoke to it and laughed. Everyone saw their prince stepping off his dragon and he looked different. His pale skin and freshly cut silky white hair, his frame grown and more muscly toned.

“Quite the entrance brother. Always loved attention.” Rhaenrya pulled away from Alicent and walked towards her brother with a fake face. The boy turned with a smiled while taking off his gloves, “And you dear sister, being betrothed to Lord Strong? Quite a lovely tale.” He smirked as they stood a few steps away from each other.

Rhaenrya broke and leaped towards her brother and hugged him close, his arms wrapping around her and lifting her up. The two laughed in joy to be reunited together again after years. The hug lasted a few seconds before he placed her back on the ground but still holding onto each other. “We must see mother and father at once.” Rhaenrya smiled and tugged him backward with her.

“I’m sure they eagerly await your return.” A new voice pulled the twins apart and around. Y/n took a moment and his breath hitch’s as a bigger smile popped onto his face. Alicent Hightower, the girl who always was kindhearted and soft. It seems her beauty grew with age. She was once’s one of the most beautiful girl he has ever seen but now he is not sure she could be topped in rank.

“Alice Hightower?” He let go of rhaenrya and walked closer and the brunette bowed her head down in respected. “It seems you both grew into beautiful woman, how jealous the other ladies must be.” Her cheeks flushed and the pressure in her chest she felt all those years ago returned. But harder then before. Rhaenrya rolled her eyes at his comment and pulled his arm. “Mother will not like you taking long to see her. Neither father really.” Alicent watched his attention go back to rhaenrya and she felt anger.

Alicent from there got his attention anyway she could. Learning his schedule and always “Bumping” into him at times. Or how she’d dress in prettier dresses to show herself off. Y/n found his alone night walks to never be alone with the hands daughter following him everywhere.

Otto did the same thing he did to Viserys and pushed his daughter into y/n. But Alicent was already doing it by herself and had no problem. Slowly otto got into the kings mind of marrying the two.

“Any girl peak your interest my boy?” Viserys asked while they chatted in the kings chamber. “Have you already picked a woman for me?” His father only smiled and patted his back and took the figure from his sons hands and placed it back down. “You are the future king but my son, I want you to find a match like I did with your mother.” Y/n smiled and looked back down. “There is this one girl…” Viserys cheered and shook his sons shoulders more.

“Is it the Lady Alicent?” The boys head shot up and looked surprised to hear her name. “I see the way you look at her, or the way she looks at you.”

“She’s kind, will make a loving queen.”

Alicent was surprised when one day the reader asks her to take a walk with him in the garden without rhaenrya. But she didn’t hesitated to take his arms and walk with him. The reader was sweet when he asked her to marry him and had a fresh flowers picked just for her. He said she did not have to marry him if did not want but the thought didn’t even cross her mind.

After the betrothal she started to pull the reader away from everyone to keep him to herself. Especially rhaenrya. The thought of having to share her darling made her fingers dug into her skin at the thought. The reader was hers, only hers.

Alicent didn’t even want the reader be around his family at the wedding. Rhaenrya couldn’t even ask for a dance without Alicent pulling him on the dance floor by herself.

The castle saw less and less of him because if he wasn’t studying or with the king, then he was with Alicent. Aemma got to see her son if he had time but rhaenrya was out of the question. The dinner table was awkward with tension between the girls. If rhaenrya was around then Alicent would be right at the readers side.

Reader is so blind to see what’s happening. Alicent is good at playing the innocent girl so he suspects nothing of her manipulating tactics. She is his wife and he needs to care and love her, plus he is very busy with heir things so it is no one’s fault he doesn’t get to see his family anymore.

But does shit get worse she Alicent announces she is pregnant. You think her possessiveness is bad before then this is like hell. You study with in your chamber at the table while Alicent relaxes and reads. She wished for this child since you came back so she loved it dearly, even happy about it as she rubs her belly and whispers. “You are a gift of our love, he has given you to me.”

You love your wife dearly so you do anything you can to make this easy for her. Until the death of your mother happens. She was pregnant again, surprising everyone after years of no children being born. But sadly died in childhood birth along with your baby brother. Everything gets hard on you.

You sneak around to comfort your sister when Alicent thinks your out at the library, or your father when you can since you still see him a bit. Everything is hell and they all look for you but Alicent has you in her clutch.

I haven’t mentioned Daemon yet so here it is. Hates Alicent since he watched her flirt with you in the halls or at feast when you came back. Hates her so freaking much for stealing you away from your twin and even him, platonically. His anger gets more like rhaenrya when she kept you away from your family and took over your mind. Thinks she was a witch and put a spell on you, drugged you, or even threatened you if you did not love her. He constantly tries to get you away.

After months of mourning and your mental state being drained your body was restored by one second of seeing your son. He was so tiny and beautiful. He looked like you so much and you took him in your arms and cradled him. You cheered around the room that you had a son and praised your wife for her hard work. Making sure she had the best of medication and care after. Alicent loved that you focused on the babe while knowing it was a new way to keep you with her.

Aegon was his name, and he was raised by a loving father. Next, a daughter who you were very protective over with her strange like ways but loves her no less. Then your son aemond who couldn’t hatch a dragon egg but you held no grudge. You would tell him stories of how one day he will have a dragon and you will help him hunt it. Daeron your youngest who took mostly after you, his kindness and level head.

Your children grew to be just as protective of you as their mother and hated to let you go. Always kicking and screaming when you tried to leave and cry, they were slightly spoiled. But they followed you around like ducklings and the boys tried to act like you. Even watching you practice and copying your moves, walking even and everything about you. Rhaenrya had children and you wanted to be in their lives so you forced Alicent to have the children spend time with them. You missed your family and it was time to be together.

Oh, but did your kids hate rhaenryas kids- Well, Helaena and Daeron didn’t mind because she was sweet, and Daeron was off in old town. But Aemond and Aegon didn’t like their cousins every much. They hated when you gave them attention or trained them as well, so they’d trip the boys or do something to get your attention.

Rhaenrya tried to talk to Alicent about how she wished no harm to steal you away in hopes to calm her down. Maybe even hang out with you once and a while. But Alicent didn’t give up.

Not only did you have a yandere for a wife, but Yandere children as well who can manipulate you. You belonged to them and no one else.

Extra because why not:

The only way I see Rhaenrya trying to take back the throne is with Daemon in her ear. They see how Alicent has you in control and knows she could do anything. It wasn’t about you because if Alicent was never in the picture you would be a good king. But now Daemon thinks that Rhaenrya needs to have a claim to the throne as well.

Rhaenrya named her fourth child after the reader and Alicent gets pissed about it. Even asks/screams for her to change it because she had no right.

Aegon is different from the show and is more..Better? A loving parent can make all the difference so he turns out, kinda okay. Don’t get me wrong he’s still a dick but he’s better about it. But with the reader by his side actually trying to do good, Aegon wants to impress him and becomes a good man.

Aemond clings to y/n the most because he feels lesser then his siblings for the lack of a dragon which the reader never puts him down for. If the boys are teasing him all it takes is one word to dad and everything will be okay.

Helaena really loves her dad so much. He listens to her, reads to her or gets her bugs from around the world. Even asks her questions of what she is saying. Helaena feels a comfort in him unlike anyone else. She is a daddy’s girl for sure.

[madlori]

Facebook Official

whoops my hand slipped and I banged out 1800 words of fix-it fic in like an hour. btw i think the Abby connection is dumb but I'm making it work.

Three years after reconciling with Buck, newly engaged to him, Tommy gets a phone call from a certain former dispatcher...who's just seen some interesting news via a Facebook Relationship Status post.

*****

(also on AO3)

To say that the phone call blindsided him would have been the understatement of the century.

He was just sitting at home watching the game, having a beer, minding his own business. Evan was on shift — must be a busy one, he’d only gotten two text messages all evening, one bitching about not having had time to eat dinner and the other about idiots who texted while driving.

His phone rang. Unknown number. Normally he wouldn’t have picked up, but with all the wedding preparations, a lot of vendors were calling. It was a little late to be making business calls, just after 8 pm, but he’d quickly learned that business norms meant little in the wedding planning business. “Hello?”

“Tommy?”

“Yes?” A woman’s voice. Familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

Pause “You’re marrying Buck??” A slightly hysterical note of disbelief entered the woman’s voice as she said the name.

And all at once, he knew who it was. Shit fuck motherfucker why didn’t we get ahead of this one.

“Abby. Um…”

“Evan Buckley? My ex-fiancé and my ex-boyfriend are marrying each other?”

“Small world, huh?” he said, going for levity.

“Buck’s not even gay!”

“No, he’s not. He’s bisexual.”

“I’m…okay. I’m sorry, it’s just…this is a lot of information to get all at once.”

“How did you even find out? Don’t you live in Phoenix?”

“Buck posted one of those relationship status things on Facebook.”

“Oh. I barely use Facebook.”

“Me either, but Buck does, and I hadn’t been on there in awhile, but I logged on and that was like the third post I saw!”

Tommy remembered the day Buck had made the post. They hadn’t really put their relationship on social media much - Buck posted photos of them on Instagram sometimes - and he hadn’t done one of those stupid relationship status things for them until they got engaged. They’d trawled their phones for the right pic, eventually settling on one taken at a 118 barbecue of them together, smiling, arms slung around waists. He hadn’t said so, but he’d gotten a little emotional over what Evan wrote on the post:

Evan Buckley is engaged to Tommy Kinard.

“It’s been a long road, but we made it. Can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with this man. He’s the best person I’ve ever known. I love you!”

“Well…I’m sorry that was an unpleasant surprise for you,” Tommy said, carefully.

She sighed. “I don’t know that it was…unpleasant. But a surprise, for sure. How do you even know Buck? How did you meet?”

“We’re both firefighters, it’s not that surprising that we could have met, is it?”

“No, I guess not.”

“And he was at my old firehouse. The one you refused to ever come to. But I guess you went when you were with him, didn’t you?”

“You never wanted me to meet your friends. I guess I found out why when you broke off our engagement.”

“I’m sorry, Abby. I know I said it then, but I’ll say it again now. I lied to myself, I lied to a lot of people. It took me almost trapping you in my lie, when you did not deserve that, to break me out of it.”

“I forgave you ages ago. We don’t have to go over all that again.”

“I met Evan…I guess it’s four years ago? We started dating not long after. I, um…was the first man he dated. I guess I made him realize some things about himself.”

“Just transforming lives everywhere you go, huh?” she said, a teasing note entering her voice. Tommy was happy to hear it.

“Yeah, well, I almost screwed it up. I broke up with him six months later. He was diving in headfirst, too fast, just all in and wanting to move in with me.”

“That sounds just like Buck.”

“I panicked and ended it before I could get in any deeper with him.”

“It was too late, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. I was already in love with him.”

“He’s easy to love. Too easy,” she said, quietly. “But you got back together, obviously.”

“Took a little while. Almost a year. I dated a few guys, he dated a few people, but nothing stuck for either of us - I know now it’s because we were still hung up on each other. We have a friend in common and we’d hear about each other through him…but I didn’t really see him until we ended up on a major incident call together. I sustained a minor injury - just a scrape, really - and Hen from his house patched me up. I was sitting there on the ambulance deck, more or less left to myself, and he came waltzing up with that eyebrow raised like he knew all my secrets.” Abby chuckled, like she knew the exact expression he was describing. “He just said, are you done being fucking stupid yet?”

“And you were.”

“Yep. I was. He took me home that night and we’ve barely been apart since. Got engaged a year later.”

“You sound happy.”

“I am. I’m ecstatic. I can’t believe I got a second chance with him. I kicked myself for ending it like that, I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do. You thought you weren’t enough for him to want to keep you.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“That’s dumb.”

“That’s what he says.”

They sat there not speaking for what felt like a long time.

“Well…” Abby said. “I feel like I just unloaded on you out of the blue.”

“You kinda did,” he said, smiling.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have called.”

“I’m glad you did. You know…Evan and I didn’t realize we had you in common until our six month anniversary dinner. In fact, it was that revelation that sort of started us on the way to breaking up for awhile. But that’s been so long now and it hasn’t come up in a few years. I almost forgot about it.”

“Gee, thanks,” she said, her grin audible. “I’m glad you’re both happy. I have a lot of regret over Buck, how I left things with him. I assume he’s told you.”

“He has. If it helps, he doesn’t have any bad feelings towards you.”

“It does help. Thank you for that.” She sighed. “I’ll let you go. I just saw that Facebook post and spiralled a little bit.”

“Understandable.”

“Please tell Buck I say hello. And I wish you both so much happiness, Tommy.”

“Thank you. And I will.”

She hung up. Tommy stared at the phone for a moment, then opened his text message thread with Evan.

You’re not gonna believe what just happened.

*****

When Evan got home at 7 am, they had their usual two hours to share breakfast and maybe a quick fuck before Tommy had to be on shift himself. They tried to sync their schedules so their off days coincided, but it didn’t always work.

“Holy shit, why didn’t we get ahead of that one?” Evan said as he burst in the door, not even bothering with “hello.” His shoes and duffel went flying and he bustled into the kitchen where Tommy was mixing the pancake batter.

“Yeah, I had the same thought,” he said, leaning over to kiss him hello.

Evan went to the coffee pot. “I didn’t even think about it, that she might see.”

“Neither did I.”

“How’d she sound?”

“Really surprised at first. Incredulous, even? Like in the what-are-the-odds way.”

“Kinda like when I found out we’d both dated her.”

“Yeah, but you’re my himbo now,” Tommy said, smirking. “No, she was just shocked. I gave her the quick rundown, and she ended up congratulating us.”

“Did you tell her it’s her fault we broke up for a year?” Evan said, popping a strawberry into his mouth.

“I think the proper person to bear the fault is me.”

“And also me. Who asks someone to move in after six months? Before even saying ‘I love you?’ And when you had a house!”

“I say we blame Josh. He got you all juiced up with that damn Glee speech.” After they’d reconciled, Evan had given him chapter and verse on his mind-boggling thought processes on that last fateful day.

“He got me feeling guilty, is what he did. That I judged you for lying to Abby. Overcorrecting is one of my special gifts.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Well, while I’m overcorrecting…why don’t we invite her?”

Tommy looked up. “To our wedding?”

“Sure, why not? She can flip a coin whose side she sits on,” Evan said, grinning like the mischievous imp that he was.

“Evan, darling, love of my life, we are not inviting our ex to our wedding.”

He scrunched up his face. “Ew. ‘Our’ ex? Makes it sound like we were in a throuple.”

“Ew, indeed.”

He cocked his head. “I dunno, though. The thought’s kinda sexy.”

“Not to me! No vaginas anywhere near my bedroom. Kinsey 6, remember?”

“Of course, my apologies.”

Tommy looked at his innocent wide-eyed face for a few beats. “You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?”

“Can I help it if the thought of two people I have found intensely attractive doing sexy things is appealing?”

“Can I help it if the thought of Chris Hemsworth going down on you has gotten me through some lonely nights?”

“Okay, I get the point. Shutting up now.” 

Tommy put a plate of pancakes in front of him. “Your shift okay?”

“Fine. Busy. I’m a bit wired. Do we have time for me to bounce on your dick for a bit before you have to head out?”

“For that, I’ll make time.” He sat down at the table at Evan’s side with his own pancakes. Evan slid a hand over and squeezed his thigh.

“Missed you, though,” he said, chewing.

“I always miss you when you’re on shift,” Tommy said.

Evan looked up at that, meeting his eyes. “Tommy, sometimes I miss you when you get up to get a beer.”

The simplicity, the sincerity of it made his chest tighten a little. He leaned forward, put his fingers under Evan’s chin and pulled him into a soft kiss, just like the first time. “I love you,” he whispered. 

“I love you, too.”

“And we are not inviting my ex-fiancee who is also your ex-girlfriend to our wedding.”

Evan grinned. “Deal.”

[selfloverrrrrr]

Night out ?

Warnings : smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, Noncon, Kidnapping, physical and emotional abuse, biting, size difference, Yandere Gojo, stalking, protective, jealous, obsessive, manipulative....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

Y/n's POV

We were kids when Gojo adopted us. Us means me, Megumi and Tsumiki. I was tsumiki's elder sister. Me and her were Megumi's step sister. I was their mentor before Gojo Satoru adopted us.

I'm 5 years younger than Gojo. When he adopted us Megumi asked Gojo "what should we call you? Dad?" And Gojo replied "no no...call me Gojo...dad sounds like I'm married". From then we call him Gojo.

11 years passed. I'm a 22 year old girl now. Gojo's 27. I don't know what happened to him in these past 3 or 4 years.... Gojo acts weird. He doesn't let me hang out with any guy. He also told me not to make any guy friends...

I have a boyfriend named Alex. Not many people know about it. Just my friends. And of course Gojo doesn't know....he might kill me if he knows. One night Alex arranged a date. Gojo had a mission that day so he won't be at home. And Tsumiki is in her college hostel and Megumi was going out with his friends that night.

So everything is fine. I just got ready. Wore a mini sleeveless top and a short skirt. I grabbed my hand bag and went out of my room. I was walking down the stairs looking through my phone. Suddenly I heard a voice. "where are you going?"

I looked towards the voice in front of me. I freeze there. What is Gojo doing here?! Isn't he supposed to be on a mission?! "Y-you came so early?" I asked. "Yeah that mission wasn't that tough... I don't know what makes those higher ups think it's tough" he replied. His eyes traveled my whole body.

"oh... I see" I said with a nervous smile. He walked towards me. "You didn't tell me where you are going" He said. "Oh... yeah...me? It's just a girl's night" I said. He looked at me confusedly. "Okay..." He spoke "but your dress is too revealing to out". "It's okay... it's just girls" I said. And my fucking luck....

My phone rang. It was Alex. I didn't answer the call. "Y/n?" Gojo said. "Hmm?" I replied. "Give me your phone" he said. "W-what" I asked. "I said give me your phone" he said and snatched my phone from my hand. "G-gojo wait" I spoke.

He looked at my phone. A smirk played on his lips. He looked at me again. "Girls night huh?" He spoke. I just silently looked at him. I felt like my heart was gonna blast. "Who's Alex?" He asked. I didn't speak. "You won't speak? Fine let me handle this" he said and called Alex.

Alex picked up the call and Gojo started walking towards me. I started walking backwards.

Alex: hello, babe? Are you ready?

Gojo: no she's not coming...

Alex: ........who...who are you?

Gojo: me? I'm her boyfriend.

I didn't notice and fell on the couch. Gojo climbed over me. His one leg was between my legs.

Gojo: yes I am her boyfriend...and we're having some fun....so you can fuck off.

Gojo said and hung up the call and threw my phone. "G-gojo please I'm sorry I won't..." I spoke. "Didn't I tell you not to make any guy friends?" He asked. "I'm sorry" I said. "Sorry won't work" he said. I was supporting myself on my one elbow.

"I'm going out... I won't come tonight-" a voice said and it stopped in the middle of his sentence. We both looked at the door. It was Megumi. He was shocked to see us in that position. Gojo looked at me and whispered " don't tell him anything or else I'll kill Alex.... you know I'm capable of that".

I told Megumi that we accidentally fell on each other. After Megumi leaves the house Gojo grabbed me by my waist and took me to his room. He locked the door then turned towards me. He started walking towards me. I started walking backwards. He pushed me on the bed.

"don't act like a dumb and tell me that you didn't know that I like you" he said in a sarcastic tone. "Now be a good girl and don't protest about anything I'm gonna do to you....or else you know I can kill anyone I want" he whispered and climbed on the bed.

He caged me under him. "Fuck the more I look at the more I get harder" he said kissed my neck. My breath is coming heavy. He brought his hand behind me to unplug my top. "You call it a top? It's a bra... and you thought I'll let you go out wearing this bra and.... with a guy?" He said and chuckled and took off my top.

He threw it on the floor. He looked at me with lust in his eyes and didn't waste any time, crashed his mouth on my breast licking, sucking and teasing the nipple and squeezing the other one with his hand. I moaned in the sensetion. I grabbed his hair and tried to stop him by pulling it but it didn't even effect on him. "G-gojo stopppp... I won't do it again" I screamed but he didn't stop.

"Call me Satoru " he said and took off my skirt and then took off my pantie."I'm gonna took it" he whispered and then looked at my pussy. He rubbed his finger on my clit and whispered with a smirk "want it so bad, huh?". Then he licked my pussy. I couldn't help but moan loudly. He smirked at my reaction and undo his pants.

His dick sprang out. It was too big and too thick. Fear grabbed me by my neck. " G-gojo no no no... P-please no... s-stop.... I promise I won't do it again" I begged but didn't even listen to me and slammed his whole dick inside me in one slide. I screamed. "Fuck fuck fuck" he groaned. He didn't even give me time to adjust his size and started thrusting in and out roughly. "I waited for it so long" he moaned. I was throwing my legs with pain and begging him to stop. And he liked it so much. His thrust became harder and harder.

I clenched around him tightly and he moaned loudly " ughhhhhh....ahhh s-so...ahhhh....so f-fucking tight " he started rubbing my clit with his thumb and I bite his shoulder scratched his back to control myself. With a few more thrust I came. He was still thrusting roughly. I felt his cock pulsing inside me. I tried to push him away with all of my strength." Ughh...no no no no...ahhhhhh...no please no, Satoru....ahhhhhh..... n-not ahhhh.....not inside..." I moaned. He grabbed my throat and chocked me down to the bed. " Finally called me Satoru?" He said with a smirk. I didn't even realise that I called him Satoru. Within a minute he came inside me I could feel his seed inside me. He pulled out.

I was so weak that I couldn't even move. He cleaned me up then cleaned himself. After that he threw himself beside me on the bed and hugged me tightly from behind. He fell asleep. A message notification came on my phone from Megumi.....

Megumi:

Y/n are you and Gojo in a relationship?

Don't tell me that you two accidentally fell on each other like that.... I'm not a dumb

If you are in a relationship you can tell me

I won't judge you

It's totally fine for me.

And I think he loves you so much...

Give me your requests guys....

I love when you give me your requests 💕

[kitixie]

Little Girl Gone

Little Girl Gone / T.S. (pt. 1)

part two: here

Synopsis: Having been several years since you’d last seen your favorite gangster family, you return to Small Heath a changed woman with a stronger attitude than you had when you left. 

information: this will be a multi part story! idk how many parts exactly, but there will be more!

warnings: none for this chapter!

please leave all comments and reccommendations below! thank you for reading!

“Aye, what does a woman have to do to get a whiskey around here?”, you shouted, rapping your hand on the bar counter. 

You were seated at The Garrison, it was your first stop back in town. You had lived in Small Heath most of your early life, but five years ago you were forced to leave due to your fathers death and your mothers general distrust (and dislike) of the Shelby family. Your mother had kicked you out a few days ago, claiming that you were old enough to be married now, and that she wouldn’t stand for you staying in her house if you weren’t going to look for a husband. 

“Calm down Lady, I’ll- Holy Shit! Y/N, what are you doin’ back!”, a man's voice rang out, making you and the rest of the bar look in his direction. 

Arthur Shelby had always been one of your favorite Shelby siblings, and for good reason. He was loud, funny, and typically a gentleman if you caught him on the right day. You leaned over the bar and wrapped your arms around his neck, nearly bruising him in the process. You had hoped your whole journey here that he would be the first Shelby you saw, and luck had worked out for you this time. 

“Arth, I am sure glad to see you! It’s been a long time, aye?”, you spoke, removing your arms from him and sitting back on your barstool. 

“Hell, it’s been about, what, five years? You don’t show your face around these parts for five fuckin’ years and then you just come back?”, he said, staring you in the face, with a somewhat more serious look in his eye than you had expected. 

‘Yeah, had some family troubles, but I’m back for good now,” you swallowed, “how's all the Shelby’s doin’?” 

“Eh, the usual. Tommys about to run himself ragged, Pol acts like she owns us all, I’m workin’ here now, I actually own the place!” he said, spilling out most of that information in one breath. 

You took a quick survey of the bar, noticing how the decor and table setup had changed since you’d seen it last. The floor was still the same sticky, slimy feeling though. 

“Glad to see you doing well, Arth. Now, please get me a whiskey an i’ll be outta your way!” you spoke, glad to have reunited with Arthur, but not glad to have been out in public this long. 

“Ah, ah. If you think I’m letting you get out of here without seein’ Tom, you’re messed in the head!” He joked, but as you watched him move towards the window to the private room, you realized he wasn’t joking. 

You had not come prepared to see Thomas. He was the only one who never got a goodbye, even though the rest of them didn’t know they were goodbyes at the time. When you were being forced to leave, you managed to sneak over to Watery Lane and have one last conversation with all the Shelbys before you left, and you never told them you were leaving that night. Thomas had been on business, but got home a few minutes after you left. You had regretted not speaking to him then, but now that regret had turned into a fear after hearing about the man he had become while you were away. You had heard things about Thomas Shelby, and they were not things any girl would like to hear about her long-time crush.

‘Oy, that Tommy Shelby is a real whore’

‘I heard he gets around Small Heath like its a full time job’

‘He pays them ya know? Every girl he fucks gets paid, even if theyre not workin’ for it!’

Those were all just some of the things you had heard, and those weren’t even the things you had heard that were related to his newfound habit of murdering those who crossed him. You’ve had your eyes on Tommy Shelby ever since you were 16. Now aged 21, it had been a long enough time that you realized what kind of person you needed to settle with, and logically, he wasn’t it. 

While this entire catalog of thoughts was running through your head, your eyes watched as Arthur got closer and closer to that window. You knew you weren’t ready to see him yet, if you ever would be. So acting on those primal prey instincts, you ran. You hopped off the barstool, and started pushing your way through the crowd of bar patrons, finally having the door insight. You wrapped your hand around the handle, and pulled it open. Stepping into the cool air of the night, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes as you closed the bar door behind you. Just as you were stepping away from the door to begin your walk to the apartment you were renting, you bumped into something, or rather, someone. 

“Thought I’d let you run from me a second time, aye?”

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

“I-I-”, you stammered, not having any idea what to say, now that you were staring at the face of one Thomas Shelby. 

“It’s okay, I’d be nervous too if I ran into someone I left in the dust five years ago.”, he laughed, letting a puff of cigarette smoke roll out of his mouth. 

“Tommy, how did you even know I was out here? I watched Arthur and left before he even opened the window, I don’t underst-”

“Shh. I have my ways, ya know I have my ways.” he spoke, that cool, gravelly voice still hadn’t changed, even after all this time. 

You finally looked up at him, releasing the death stare you had on his chest. He was more handsome now, if that was even possible. His dark hair styled perfectly, like he had touched it up before meeting you outside. His hat was missing, which was a rare occurrence, but you were enjoying the unobstructed view of his face. He was lean, only muscle was visible through his white shirt, and his pants hugged his legs perfectly. He was beautiful, especially in the face. You could see more defined freckles in the glow of the street lamp, along with more defined lines carved into his forehead. You continued to study his face, while his studied yours. You had definitely matured in your time away, but not only on your face. Your lips had gotten fuller, cheek bones more pronounced, and hair longer; but you had also grown tits and an ass. You knew you had assets, and fully planned on using them to your advantage, just not on Tommy Shelby. 

“My God, Y/N, I’d say you grew up…”, he trailed off, eyes looking all over your face and body. 

“Yeah, that tends to happen to people as they age, Tom.” you laughed, feeling suddenly insecure as you stood under his microscope. 

“What are ya doin’ back in town? I imagined you ran off and got married or somethin’,” he spoke, “But, I don’t see a ring on that finger so either that can’t be right or you married a poor bastard.” 

“Not married Tom, never was. It’s part of the reason I’m back in town, but-” 

“What are ya doin’ tomorrow evening?”, he cut off, not even letting you finish explaining how you didn’t want to talk about it right now. 

“Nothing I know about, why?”, you asked, having no idea what was about to come out of that pretty mouth of his. 

“Join me for dinner, yeah? I’d love to sit down and have a chat with ya, but I got to go handle some business right now.”, he spoke, suddenly sounding strained. 

“Uh, I guess I’ll get dinner with ya, where at?” 

“My place, I’ll come pick you up tomorrow at 6, Goodnight, Y/N.” Tom spoke, brushing shoulders with you lightly as he passed by, heading back into The Garrison.

[cxrdycxps]

Cat and Mouse • Joel Miller

Main Masterlist • Joel Miller Masterlist

☢️ sexual assault (past) • reader’s motto is gaslight gatekeep girlboss • cocky Joel (needs a warning) • slut Joel • smut • miscommunication ☢️

This was supposed to be one part. It got away from me. I have no regrets. Part two will be up tomorrowish

Joel had a nod. It was a respectful greeting he used for a very specific set of people. He used it exclusively to acknowledge women he had fucked. Tommy had lost count of the amount of women he offered the nod to.

How he was getting away with making his way through half the population of Jackson, Tommy would never know. His brother had given the nod to nearly every single woman of an acceptable age range in town.

“Are you gonna start again once you collect them all?” Tommy asked one evening. He was trying to share a drink with his brother but Joel was like a damn bobble head with all the nodding he was doing.

“Huh?” Joel asked and Tommy only sighed, shaking his head. He took a sip of the watered down whiskey and remembered a time it was him nodding his head at all the women in down town Austin. He had no idea how Joel was able to keep up now.

Tommy was happy to have Maria now, someone to come home to at the end of the day. Someone to share everything with. He could never go back to giving away parts of himself to different women every Friday night. It was made all the better by the fact that it was Maria who chose to love him for all his faults. He didn’t get complacent with her love, he worked for it every single day.

While Tommy was driven to distraction thinking of his wife Joel had found a new target. Tommy watched him lock eyes on you and shook his head, pulling his brother back down into his seat. “Not her.”

“Not her? Why not her?” Joel asked in confusion, his eyebrows furrowed. He looked back to you again and Tommy could see the allure. The tight jeans stole all the attention in the room, your laugh was like a sirens call. But Tommy couldn’t allow it.

“Not up for debate. You can fuck every single woman in town but her. She’s not an option. You’re not allowed.” Tommy didn’t explain his reasoning, only shook his head. Joel grinned at his brother and shook his hand off. “I’ll treat her real nice, promise.”

Tommy let him go. He thought it was personal, that you were a friend of Tommy’s or something. Tommy had never even gotten close and he wouldn’t dare to. You were the choice of most single men in Jackson and some not so single men. But Tommy had watched you chew every last one of them up and spit them all out.

You played with them like a bored barn cat and a field mouse. You let the run rings around you and just when they thought they’d won you deal the killing blow with one lazy swipe of a paw.

Tommy wanted to hate you. Maria had to deal with more than one bruised ego and tell them that no, embarrassing them and breaking up with them was not enough reason to kick you out of the commune.

The men knew better. You’d been doing it for the two years you’d been in Jackson, seeming to take sick pleasure in luring the men in and bringing them down a peg or two. Tommy could only thank the god above you never went near the married men or he knew there would be hell to pay from the possessive wives of Jackson.

You seemed to have some morals, atleast.

Well, that wasn’t exactly fair either. Tommy knew some of what happened to you before Jackson. How the men had treated you in your last camp. They had done much worse than a little embarrassment and ego checking.

Tommy watched you turn into the tap on your shoulder from Joel as he played the polite southern gentleman, just trying to squeeze by to get some drinks. You weren’t fooled, Tommy could tell, even if Joel couldn’t.

And so the game began.

///

“Pardon me, ma’am.” You looked over your shoulder to find Tommy Miller’s brother with an almost bashful look on his face, his hand retreating from where he had tapped your shoulder. “You mind if I squeeze in?”

You blinked at him before smiling demurely, moving a step back so he could reach the bar and gesture to Seth for a drink. You shared a look with Lou, your friend that you had been drinking with, over his shoulder and she shook her head with a laugh and turned away. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Well with good southern manners like that and a Texan twang you can’t be anyone other than Tommy’s-” You paused to look him up and down slowly. “Big brother?”

“You’re gonna tell me Tommy’s got manners?” Joel asked with a laugh, accepting his drink from Seth and leaning an elbow on the bar.

“Nah but I’m sure one of you had to have them.” You told him, smiling when he laughed. You were jostled from behind by someone heading for the bar and you pressed against Joel before backing away slowly. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Don’t you worry, sweetheart.” He was laying the accent on thick and you smiled at him, looking up from under your eyelashes. You rested one hand on his arm for balance when you were jostled again. “I don’t think we got a proper introduction. I’m Joel, Joel Miller.”

You gave him your name and stepped back to extend your hand to him. He shook it slowly before lifting it and pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand. You laughed in delight. “Oh you really are a gentleman. I thought those were extinct.”

“Endangered maybe, I don’t know about extinct.” He still held your hand, his thumb smoothing over your skin. You blinked slowly at him when a particularly rough jostle shoved you into his chest. His arm wrapped around your waist to steady you and you apologized when you caught yourself with both hands on his chest. “You wanna watch where you’re going, buddy?”

You turned in Joel’s embrace, his arm still tight around you, to find Nolan. You fought a wince knowing that this game could be over before it started if he decided to run his mouth. “It’s fine Joel.”

“It ain’t fine, he can apologize.” Joel insisted and you couldn’t quite tamp down the wince this time when Nolan looked up at you. “Right now.”

“She ain’t worth the breath of an apology.” Nolan scoffed and you bit back a laugh. You had really hurt his feelings and you hadn’t even been trying, not really. “Dirty whore.”

“Now I know you ain’t-” Joel’s chest swelled as he started to defend you and you let your laugh loose.

“Nolan, sweetie. I’m sorry that you and I didn’t work out but it ain’t my fault and I ain’t no whore.” You reminded him, your voice gentle. “I think you just had too much to drink.”

Nolan stared at you for a second, his jaw tense before he looked over your shoulder. “Yeah, that’s it. Sorry about that.”

A low whistle reminded you that you were still in Joel’s grip. He let you go when you twisted back to look at him and found his impressed smile. “Solved that a lot tamer than I woulda.” Joel told you honestly.

“Awh Nolan doesn’t mean any harm.” You told Joel and looked over your shoulder to find the man with his back to you. “Being truthful? Me and Nolan used to date. It’s hard when it doesn’t work out. Jackson is so small.”

“Yeah, I hear ya. Always bumpin’ into each other after the fact. Can’t be easy.” Joel allowed and you nodded, a small smile on your lips.

“You sound familiar with the feeling but I was under the impression that you don’t date.” You stole his glass to sip at his drink and he raised his eyebrows both at your comment and your cheek. “We women talk, Mr Miller.”

“Well, like you said. It gets messy. And I don’t like mess.” He admitted, waving at Seth for another drink. You smiled and tipped your head back, finishing his drink.

“I quite like messy.” You told him, catching Lou’s eye where she was lingering off to the side. “Pity you don’t. Cause I don’t do one night stands. Nice talking to you, Joel.”

“Wait, what?” Joel asked when you grabbed your purse from the bar stool. He looked from the empty glass you placed on the bar to your back as you walked away, arm linked with Lou.

Seth rested Joel’s drink on the counter and he took it, ignoring the chuckling bar man. He found his seat beside Tommy again and watched his brother try to hide his smile. “Count yourself lucky. That’s easier than the other men get off.”

“That’s the problem, Tommy.” Joel finished his drink in one swallow. “There wasn’t any getting off. But I’ll change that. She’s sweet, real sweet.”

“She’s gonna chew you up and spit you out, big brother.” Tommy assured him with a laugh. “But someone’s gotta bring you down a peg.”

///

You heard him before you saw him. The thin walls of the greenhouses held no secrets. A fact that a lot of people forgot when they wanted to go gossiping.

Joel Miller wasn’t gossiping though. He was looking for you, asking Betty where you might be found. He had gone as far to check up on your rotation to find you today. That seemed like someone who would play your game.

You didn’t look up when Betty sent him in your direction, picking the strawberries carefully. You were splitting them between baskets, trying to be fair with the size and number distributions. He paused on the threshold but you only hummed under your breath, turning away to grab several more baskets to fill. He cleared his throat and you made yourself jump a little, spinning around to face him.

“My God, Joel.” You huffed, a hand on your chest. He was grinning at you, proud to have caught you unaware. “I was in a world of my own. Make a little noise next time.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, sweetheart.” He leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re not an easy woman to track down.”

“Is that so?” You asked him, turning to face him. You leaned back against the work bench, your hands behind your back. “What’s got you tracking me?”

“Can’t a man be neighborly?” He asked, an eyebrow raised and you laughed. He straightened up from the door way and you were in awe of his size, how his broad shoulders filled the space. “Making sure you’re doing alright after putting Nolan in his place the other night?”

“I ain’t worried about Nolan and we ain’t neighbors, Mr Miller.” You reminded him and he looked slightly abashed to have been called out so thoroughly. You wanted to cup his red cheeks and coo at his embarrassment. A big man like Joel, he’d hate that he liked you doing it too.

“If a man was looking to get a little messy, how’d he go about it?” Joel asked and you smiled brightly as his forwardness. “Asking for a friend, of course.”

“Oh well, you can tell your friend that I got a three date rule.” You told Joel, turning back to pick your strawberries. “I like to be wined and dined, not rushed out the back door the following morning.”

“And if he’s got a kid that can’t know. Can that wining and dining be discreet?” Joel asked and you shrugged, turning with a basket of strawberries in your hand.

“If your friend wants to come and cook me dinner in my home, away from prying eyes, I wouldn’t complain.” You told him, holding the strawberries out to him. “For your friend.”

“I’ll be sure to pass all’a that on to him.” Joel tipped his head at you, that infuriating nod he gave all the other women in town.

“Don’t nod at me like that. I ain’t a sure thing and I ain’t your conquest.” You huffed, annoyed you had already given him the strawberries. “You can tell your friend he better try harder than you do.”

“Yes ma’am.” Joel sounded properly chastised but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking up at him when he left with a muttered thanks for the strawberries.

You released a breath and smiled to yourself as you finished with the strawberries. He was such an adorable man for the sheer size of him. So quick to apologize when he was in the wrong too. It was endearing.

///

“Fancy seeing you here.” Joel looked up from the basket of blueberries he was examining closely. “Those blueberries hurt your feelings or somethin’?”

“Ellie doesn’t like them too soft.” He explained and you stepped closer to him, looking over the baskets of berries. You selected one and passed it to him. “Thank you.”

“I know how she feels. It’s kind of gross when they turn to mush.” You admitted, lifting a bundle of wild garlic and checking each leaf. “Friday evening. I finish work at seven, by the way.”

“Seven?” Joel asked, his interest moving from the open collar of your blouse to your face. He didn’t look embarrassed to be caught looking.

“If your friend is still looking to get messy.” You prompted and he blinked, nodding his head slowly. You reached for a red bell pepper and turned it over in your hand. “I mean, if he’s up for it.”

“Up for it?” Joel asked, reaching over you to pick a bell pepper of his own. He didn’t bother examining it, tossing it into his basket. You sighed and pulled it back out, tilting it over to show him where it had gone soft.

“Some men aren’t up to the challenge of having to actually get to know someone. Especially when there’s no promise, or even chance, of sex at the end of the night.” You explained while picking a separate pepper and handing it to him. He copied your inspection this time before placing it in his basket.

“I can hold a conversation. Just because I only usually spend one night, doesn’t mean it ain’t a damn good night. You won’t be the first woman I’ve wined and dined.” Joel huffed and you raised your eyebrows.

“You really know how to make a girl feel special.” You huffed, turning on your heel. You checked in with the stall owner and let them check off the food you were taking, ignoring Joel’s attempt to get your attention. The market was too crowded for him to navigate it as quickly as you had.

Joel was left staring after you feeling wrong footed again. He wasn’t sure how he managed to always mess it up with you. Saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, doing the wrong thing when things were going so good.

He sighed and returned to the stalls, looking over the produce in search of something inspirational enough for dinner with you on Friday. If he was even welcome at this point.

Joel didn’t avoid dating for the mess if it ended badly. He didn’t date cause he hadn’t dated anyone since he was sixteen. Fucking was easy. Dating was complicated.

He stared at the uninspired fruit and vegetables and shook his head, turning on his heel and leaving that decision for later in the week.

///

“Come now,” Tommy sighed, leaning back on your porch with a glass of lemonade in hand. He was regretting agreeing to be on landscaping duty this summer. He was getting too damn old for that old push lawnmower. “He’s not a bad guy. You could just cancel on him.”

“I ain’t cancelling on him.” You shook your head and Tommy sighed. “It ain’t really any of your business either. Joel and I are both consenting adults.”

“He doesn’t know what you’re like.” Tommy sighed and you blinked at him. He didn’t know you well enough for the way he was talking to you.

“What I’m like?” You asked, standing up from the porch swing. Tommy looked up from his spot on the porch steps. “Tell me, Tommy Miller, what am I like?”

“You treat it like a game.” Tommy sighed. You wondered if he was brave or just stupid. “You chew men up and spit ‘em out. You don’t care about hurtin’ them.”

Tommy was leaned with his head back, eyes closed to block out the sun. Like an idiot, he fell for the same complacent safety that everyone in Jackson did. You hadn’t quite gotten that lazy yet and so you could see Joel approach.

“God, Tommy.” You sighed, arms wrapped around yourself. You had yourself twisted away from the direction Joel was approaching from. “I didn’t realize you bought into all the rumors. I’m sorry, I’ll call it off with Joel if you want. I just wanted to get to know him.”

“You got no idea the things the men in this town say. I know it all.” Tommy sighed. “Just leave Joel out of it.”

“I’m sorry.” You repeated, mouth downturned. “He was nice to me, ain’t too many men been nice to me in my life. He was safe. He stood up to Nolan when he called me a whore the other day. No one ever stood up for me before.”

Tommy looked up when your voice turned thick, suspicious eyes cracked at you. Joel cleared his throat and Tommy knew instantly. You had to give it to Tommy, you liked him. He was loyal to his wife and he took no bullshit from anyone. But he wasn’t going to get in your way.

“Joel!” You put as much surprise into your voice as you could without over playing your part. “We gotta put a bell on you or somethin’.”

“Joel-” Tommy tried but his brother only shook his head, not listening.

“Listen Joel, I hate to do this but I don’t think I can have dinner on Friday.” You padded down the porch steps. You hadn’t put on actual clothes yet, enjoying a rare day off to lounge around in shorts and a camisole. You knew it was working in your favor when Joel smiled gently at you.

“You ain’t cancelling on me cause my brother is an idiot. I’m a big boy, I make my own decisions. I’ll be here Friday and you’ll eat dinner with me.” Joel insisted and you looked back at Tommy who had his jaw clenched.

“I don’t wanna cause any trouble.” You insisted, blinking up at Joel. He only shook his head, raising his hand to tuck some of your hair back. “Honestly Joel, Tommy is right. I got a bit of a reputation with the men in town. I don’t know why I can’t get it right.”

“Let me worry about Tommy.” Joel promised, a dark glance in the direction of his brother. “It’s just dinner, Sweetheart. I ain’t proposing.”

“If you’re sure? I’ll understand if you-”

“Aht. None of that. I’ll be here, with bells on if that’s what you want. Now if you don’t mind I’m gonna have some words with that brother of mine.” Joel leaned forward and kissed your cheek softly. You smiled up at him and had to shake yourself from the distraction of how gentle his lips felt against you.

“I’m working.” Tommy was sat up on the porch now, eyes narrowed at you both. You fought the urge to smirk at him, you didn’t actually want to come between the Miller men. “Got lawns to mow.”

“I’ll keep you company. Make sure you ain’t running your mouth.” You turned back to Joel with a small smile.

“You want some lemonade?” You asked him softly and he smiled down at you, nodding.

“Honey, if it’s you offerin’ I’d probably accept puddle water.” You laughed lightly, heading back for the porch where one very grouchy Tommy Miller was sitting. He narrowed his eyes at you while you passed him and only looked away when Joel cleared his throat.

You paused once you were out of sight and listened to the pair of brothers grumbling at each other.

“You mind your goddamn business. I’m a grown man, I think I’d know if I was being manipulated.” Joel snapped at Tommy who only sighed.

“You got no idea.”

///

“I gotta admit, I’m impressed.” You were sitting on the counter by your oven, watching Joel cook. Your bare heels were kicking off the cupboard doors under the counter, giving a rhythmic background noise to join the sound of bubbling from the pots. “Kind of expected you to be a microwave man.”

“I can be.” He admitted with a laugh and you smiled, staring down at the stir fry he had chosen to cook for you. He claimed it covered all the bases; light enough for the summer heat, filling if you were a vegetarian, and easy enough that getting distracted by talking to you wouldn’t ruin the meal. “Most nights I’ll have a baked potato done in the microwave.”

You wrinkled your nose at him but he only shrugged at you. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

“I’m gonna knock it. I don’t need to try it.” You laughed and hopped off the counter, heading for your drink cabinet. “Whiskey?”

“Mm, no. Check my bag there, brought you a little somethin’.” You smiled at him before ducking into the hallway where he had left his bag. Opening the zip and exposing the contents had you calling Joel’s name in delight.

You carried the bottles back into the kitchen and held them up. Joel laughed at your giddy smile when you placed one bottle down and moved to open the other one. “Where’d you find actual wine?”

“We had a patrol a couple of weeks ago into a new town. Found a couple of them.” He told you, watching as you swapped the whiskey glasses for wine ones.

“Would you like a glass now?” You offered and he nodded with a smile when you carried one over to him. “You really took me seriously.”

“Wined and dined, Sweetheart. I’m a man of my word.” You took your place alongside him again and watched him check that the noodles were cooked. He’d had to trade a day of labour in the stables for the noodles. He really had pulled out all the stops.

“Color me impressed.” You sipped at your wine and nudged his hip with your knee. “I should’ve never doubted your skills.”

“Ah, I owe you an apology for that. I ain’t treating you how I treat other women. I know this isn’t just one night.” Joel promised and you smiled softly. “I keep putting my foot in my mouth around you. Can’t think straight when it comes to you, I guess.”

“Charmer.” You rolled your eyes and hopped off the counter again. You stole both wine glasses and placed them on the table, bringing Joel the plates so he could serve up dinner.

You had set either side of the small dining room table but Joel only shook his head, moving his place setting so he was sitting at your right hand side, closer than you had put him. “How are we supposed to get to know each other from that far away?”

“It’s like a foot and a half?” You asked, eyebrows raised. He only shook his head again, settling himself in and taking a sip of his wine. You couldn’t help but laugh at him.

You hadn’t actually thought about the conversation during dinner and you had the sudden thought that it could be awkward. Joel didn’t share those sentiments, talking away about anything that entered his mind.

He was funny, which was surprising. Being hot and having a personality was a rare deal when it came to the men of Jackson. Everything about Joel surprised you. He kept your glass topped up and even washed the dishes when you both finished with the meal.

You found yourself checked up at the end of your sofa, facing Joel who was telling you about running into a giraffe living wild in Salt Lake City. You couldn’t believe him, expressing your jealousy.

“It was kind of surreal like everything I’ve seen in the last twenty five years and a giraffe is what seems the most unrealistic?” Joel laughed. You shifted against the couch cushion with a laugh and the wine in your glass spilled out and splashed your top making you gasp at the cool of it.

“Shit, sorry.” You leaned forward, pulling the fabric away from your chest and Joel held a hand out, taking your glass from you. “Gimme a second.”

You hurried up to your room, swapping your blouse for another. At the last second you paused in your doorway and swapped your blouse for a thin camisole. Another pause had you unhooking your bra and tossing it in the direction of your hamper. You admired yourself for a moment in the mirror before heading back to Joel.

He held your wine glass out to you with a gentle smile. You took the middle sofa cushion this time, moving you closer to Joel who let his eyes dip down just barely. “I’ve always been clumsy.”

“Is that right?” He asked and you nodded, finishing your glass of wine in one final swallow. “Maybe I should head out.”

“You could.” You nodded, placing your glass on your coffee table. “In fact you probably should. But I don’t want you to.”

“What do you want?” Joel asked you softly when you straightened up, inches between your faces. He was holding himself back, you could see it. Any of those other women he would’ve already pinned to the sofa and fucked them until they screamed.

“I don’t do this. I don’t do one nights.” You whispered quietly. His jaw clenched and you swallowed nervously. “It makes me feel cheap and dirty to be used like that and wake up alone in the morning.”

“What do you want? Do you want me to leave now? Because I’ll go, Sweetheart.” He promised you softly. “If you want me to stay and be here when you wake up tomorrow then I will. And I’ll come back for dinner too.”

“Awful presumptuous, Mr Miller.” You laughed, fingers twisting together in an attempt to gather your courage. “Stay?”

“Set the pace.” He whispered and his breath fanned against your lips. Your hand moved up to wrap around the back of his neck and pull him closer, your lips pressing to his.

You pressed against him, shifting so that you were straddling his lap, your tongue pressing into his mouth. He pulled you to grind against him, his big hands on your hips. You couldn’t help but moaning his name against his mouth. “Feel’s so good.”

“Tell me what you want.” He groaned when you shifted in his lap, rubbing right up against him.

“Take me to bed, Joel.”

///

You groaned against you pillow and squinted against the morning sun. You hadn’t bothered to pull your curtains last night, what with Joel fucking you into the mattress and all.

The man in question was wrapped around you from behind, still asleep it seemed. Well, most of him was asleep. He was making small aborted moves with his hips, rubbing up against the small of your back.

You shifted against him, turning in his grip to tap at his cheek gently. He shook his head and burrowed into your neck before freezing. You ran your fingers through his hair and scratched at his scalp. “Morning.”

He grunted something that sounded like a good morning and you slid your hand down between you both, circling him in your hand. He pulled his head back and blinked at you. “I think I might a little too sore for round two. But if this is okay?”

“More’n okay. You don’t need to though.” Joel promised and you smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek, pumping your hand. The little movements he had been making had been enough to have his tip wet. You paused to lick the palm of your hand and resumed your movements. Joel groaned, head tipped back and tendons in his neck straining. “So fucking good.”

You wrapped one leg up on his hip and every time he bucked into your hand he pressed between your legs. You had no desire to let him push inside of you again but you couldn’t help the small moans Everytime he pushed through your wet slit, the head of his cock was kissing your clit.

He took control of the speed, deliberately moving so that you felt each slide of his cock, his own hand closing over yours and tightening your grip. “So wet for me, Sweetheart. Gotta treat that pussy good after all the abuse I gave it last night.”

You whined against his neck, your breath coming faster. He was hitting against you perfectly and you couldn’t remember ever feeling this good with another person before. Your free hand pressed against Joel’s chest, nails digging into his chest. “Fucking, right there, please. Please.”

“Cum for me. Come on. Cum for me.” Joel demanded and you wanted to scoff at him, the same words coming from the mouth of every man you slept with. But Joel wasn’t every man. Joel was better. You shuddered against him as your orgasm hit, your hand falling away from his cock. He took over, pumping himself through his own orgasm which splashed against your stomach.

“Fuck.” You pulled away from Joel, the heat and sweat making you grimace. You collapsed onto your back and he did the same, chest raising and falling quickly. “Good morning is right.”

“A very good morning.” He agreed with a grunt. You couldn’t help the giggles, pushing yourself out of the bed. “Where’re you going?”

“To shower while you’re making that breakfast you promised me.” You reminded him and his brow furrowed.

“I didn’t promise breakfast. In fact it’s time you make a meal.” Joel teased with a grin and you shook your head, pulling on your robe.

“You promised last night. I asked if you’d really stay the night and you said you’d make breakfast.” You reminded him and he scrunched up his face in an effort to remember and you smiled at him, leaning against your dresser.

He looked immaculate in the morning, so big and broad. His chest was covered in hair that tapered down to a trail on his stomach. He looked up and you laughed.

“You were right about to fuck me? Less than an inch away and I asked you if you would definitely be there when I woke.” You reminded him and he nodded.

“Ah yes, I would’ve promised anything to get into your pussy at that point.” He laughed and you froze in place, your smile slipping from your lips. You pulled your robe tighter around yourself and swallowed.

“Is that right?” You asked, your voice cold. “Anything to get your way, huh?”

He paused, arching his neck up to look at you again. At your expression he pushed up on his elbows and you narrowed your eyes at him. “Not like that. I didn’t mean that how it sounded.”

“I’d like you to leave. Now.” You knew what was happening. He had agreed to play the game but now he was changing the rules.

He scrambled up on the bed and got tangled in the blankets. A knock on your front door had him freezing in place. You paused too, wondering who in their right mind was at your door at this hour on a Saturday. You stared at Joel for a second before tying your robe and hurrying down the stairs.

The door swung open to find Ellie who appraised you, eyebrows raised. “Tommy said Joel would be here. I need him.”

“You can have him.” You promised her, turning to find Joel on the stairs, buttoning his shirt. “You’re needed.”

“Yeah, I heard. ” Joel said, his voice angry. Ellie looked between you both and shrugged.

“You didn’t come home. There’s a leak in the bathroom. Tommy said I’d find you here.” She explained and Joel looked at you and away again. Tommy had done enough home improvement for you to know one thing.

“Oh my god.” You looked between Ellie and Joel and felt physically sick. “You organized a bail out if you stayed the night.”

“It’s not with it looks like.” Joel promised and you scoffed, tossing his bag at him from the hallway floor.

“Get the fuck out of here. And don’t bother coming back.”

[yetanotherhiddlestoner]

Summary ~ Daryl finds a journal on a supply run and reads it, what will happen when he sees the world through someone else's perspective?  Set in the commonwealth, straying a little from TWD timeline, but hey that the fun thing about fanfics right?

Daryl X Y/N. Words ~ 2449. Warnings ~ None (Photo found on Pinterest) Also I am trying to update I fell hard, you'll fall harder but it wont let me post it :(

The Entries Chapter 1

Daryl wasn't a man who just picked up a book to read it, not these days at least, if he found books for the kids then he would grab it and give it to them, he tries to recall the last time he actually read a book, but while he was looking for supplies, Daryl found a diary, the front looking worse for wear and covered in pink glittery stickers, something that reminded him of Princess and her style, Daryl's curiosity got the better of him and so and he opened it and read the first page. It read.

Entry one~

"This may very well be the last chance that I have to write, my family told me I should be a writer, I guess this is my last chance to ever get a book out there, but if anyone ever reads it, I hope you find comfort within the pages of this journal. My name is Y/N and this is the story about how I survived the apocalypse, or didn't I might be gone by now, in that case if would be a memoir right?"

Daryl shuts the book, placing it in his bag, he goes around gathering what supplies he can find before finally placing his bag on his back, starting up his bike and speeding back to the Commonwealth. Today was a good day for the supply run, he was able to find some medication for the community, canned food and some clothing for the small kids. That night as he lay in bed, he digs into his bag finding the journal, he starts reading it again.  

Entry two~

"I was born in 1989, 21 when the dead started attacking us, currently 26-27 years old although I have no idea if that is even right, I am just guessing the days and months at this point in this world, and I don't know how much time it has been if someone is reading this anyway back to my life story. My mother and father married at a young age, or at least young for them, they had just turned 20, been high school sweethearts, the whole Prom king and queen story line expect this was real life. It didn't take them long to start a family. My brother aka the eldest was born when my mother was 22, then another 2 years later came my other brother, the annoying middle child and then myself with a nice 5-year gap between myself and my second eldest brother."

Daryl flips the page to a collage of photos, ripped or cut to fit onto the pages. In the middle was one clearly done by a professional photographer, you are all sitting on the ground, smiling while looking at the lens, each person has their name on the photo, he looks at you in the photo. front and center, sighing at how happy you looked. Then in the corner is a photo of your parents on their wedding day, followed by photos of each child not long after they were born

"The day the world fell, I can't even remember the date, I was meant to be going to work, but my mother called me and begged for me to stay home, she begged for all of us to stay in our home, she told us all about the videos of people being shot down and them coming back and attacking people, I heard the terror in her voice, my brothers thought she was worrying for no reason, so they left for work. I tried to stop them, but they just wouldn't listen. I watched them walk out that door, hop in their cars and drive away, fearful that they wouldn't come back. I rang my friends, we chatted for a while, scared. We had planned on hanging at mine in the coming days, thinking this was just a temporary thing and that it would be fine within a week. How naive I was thinking the police and the government were going to be protect us.  I was very wrong. I watched as some of my neighbors left, cars packed up, houses left unlocked, pets left to fend for themselves. The street felt quiet, usually the kids would be playing in their lawns, coming home from school talking to their friends, or riding their bikes, now those things were left discarded. I watched the news, it only made my paranoia worse, watching them shoot down what I thought were innocent people at the time, the screams I could hear outside my door had me on high alert. My father never came home that night. He was away on business, he was meant to be coming home that day, I can only assume he is now dead. When my mother came home, she rushed us to get all the supplies and weapons we had, mostly kitchen knives, loaded them into the car, we waited for my father, constantly calling his cell phone and workmates but no-one answered, the longer we waited, the worse it got. During the night, I heard screams from down the street, saw neighbors running for their lives getting attacked, the screams as their friends chewed into their flesh, and then coming back. That night my family and I hid upstairs in one room, no lights, no noises nothing just praying we would make it through. 

Sunrise came and with it did us leaving our family home, the concrete covered in blood splatters, the groans of the dead coming out of the yards towards us, as I hopped into the car I gave the house one last look the one that I was born and raised in. In that moment the life I had known was gone. I have no idea if my friends were alive and if they are I hope they are well. That night, we tried sleeping in our car, taking turns at driving out of the city and further in land, my mother says we would be safe, away from the ones who can kill us. I doubted it though. We could see the cities being bombed from our car, the flame lighting up the horizon."

Daryl flips the page. His fingers glide over the page of photos once more, he notices that is your style, you write and then you put photos. He likes it, he likes that you are a real person, that had a real life, real friends.  Entry three~ "We drove for what feels like days, we pass the undead, we even ignore the hitchhikers, we can't risk taking on the wrong people my brother says. I've seen children biters, that is what we have come to call them, it breaks my heart. I had always wanted to be a mother but now I don't see kids in my life, not if my life is constantly running from the undead or living in fear."

Daryl keeps reading, finding himself more intrigued with each line. Another page, another photo of you and your friends, of you and a dog, he can assume might be a pet of yours once. You started drawing things you have seen on your travels; he takes in the details of each piece of art. You have a knack for art, a lot better then himself he tells himself. Another glimpse into your life. Another thing her learnt about you.

Entry four~ "The days pass in a blur now, it's been months since shit hit the fan. I think it might be coming up to winter, the air is cooler, a nice bite to it at night. I lost my brother to a biter; he was out trying to find more supplies when the dead came out of nowhere, he tried to fight them off. He managed to get away and spend his last few moments with us, his body bloodied and bitten. I watched as he turned, his eyes glossing over, the snapping of his teeth as he reached out for our mother who was crying for him to stop, I didn't think I just acted, my knife plunging into his skull, he was my first biter I had to put down, we buried him in a field under a tree. Our mother hasn't been the same since, she barely says a word these days. We lost our car, ran outta petrol, lost most of our things, I managed to save the one thing I need in my life, my photos, my memories in the one bag I don't ever want to lose" At the bottom of the page is a Polaroid of yourself."

Daryl notices the tally on the bottom of the page. Later on in the journal he would see the numbers go up each time, you didn't write about them but you kept track.

Biter - 1 Human-0 Animals -2

And then a photo of the makeshift grave you buried your brother in. His date of birth and just the year 2010 at the end.  "I know it may seem silly to whoever is reading this but as long as I got a camera, batteries and film, I'll keep taking photos, documenting what I survive through, until I can no longer find the supplies. I'll keep doing this until I am no longer able to. It is the only thing that makes me sane, it makes this world feel to real"

Entry five~ "I know death comes to all, but I didn't think my own mother would end it herself. I should have seen the signs, she stopped eating, stopped speaking, stopped living, day by day the life drained from her eyes, I think ever since we left, each day has made her realize that things were not going to get better. My brother and I buried her as best we could then we headed back out into the world, on foot for miles, tonight our home is a service station, not really safe, we are holed up in office, being as quiet as possible, we have raided the shelves for food and water, if we lucky we might get another day to rest here and then we will keep moving. I doubt we will make it to the mountains, it is too far to travel by foot."

He sees the cut-out photo of you and your mother, noting how much you look like her, you have her hair and facial features. His fingers move over the photo, he feels sorry for you, he knows how to feel to lose a loved one. You look so happy in this photo, the world can be cruel.

Entry six~ "I tried, I tried so hard to stop him, I screamed at him, begged him. But he didn't listen. Now I am all alone in the world I wasn't born for. My brother, the eldest, always looking out for me, we got stuck in a rundown house, he used himself as a diversion. He screamed at me to run, to get out. I grabbed my bag and ran, the last thing I saw as I turned back was him being over ran by them and screaming for to keep running, don't look back and that he loved me. My brother was a person who rarely said the L word, so hearing his last words as that made me run harder, until my chest burned. I have found a small tree house in the woods, I am guessing it was a child's secret hideaway, built by their parent's or at least that is what I am telling myself while I cry for the lost of my family, for tonight it is my sanctuary.  I have no idea how I am going to live alone; do I find a group? Do I try to live alone? I am scared, I haven't felt like this since day one. I have no idea what tomorrow brings, I have limited water, limited food and a couple weapons." Daryl continues reading the journal well into the night, when he glances at the clock its almost 2am in the morning, he decides to close the journal for the night, placing it on his nightstand. 

When he picks up the journal again, he can't believe how much he has read in a short time.

Entry 17~ "Found a library today, took out the undead inside, found a book on edible foods in the wild and how to survive out here. I am hoping they come in handy as my rations are almost out, also found a book to keep me entertained."

Biter-16 Human -2 Animal-8 Entry 18~ "I miss them." Daryl reads those three little words and feels a pang in his heart.

Entry 19~ "Today I snapped. A biter came out from behind a corner and in a second, I saw my life just die away. I beat that thing into a bloody pulp, smashing its head over and over, while tears formed into my eyes. Am I losing what little humanity I have left? Is being alone making me into an animal?"

Daryl grimaces at the photo of the now dead walker that you took. He wonders why you took that? Why would you want a photo of something that broke you? He has had his fair share of kills, yet he never truly wants to remember them.

Entry 20~ "Found a creek near the road I was walking, I have learnt how to filter dirty water, at least I have something to drink now, I just need to find food and a place to rest for the night. I have no idea really which direction I am going; I have to learn all this now."

Biter-36 Human -2 Animal-14

Entry 21~ "I am nearing the end of the book, the pages filled with the stories I have written, photos I have taken, I have truly lost track of time, the days, the months everything is mashed into one big never-ending nightmare. I fight for my life daily, it is exhausting. I think my next stop for me is the next town 30 miles away. For now I leave this journal here, for anyone, if there is anyone left out there that is. Please take care of my photos, my life story, it may not be anything these days."  The last words written hurts Daryl a little. "I truly don't want to die. But I don't know if I am strong enough to live."

And your signature style is a photo of you, he guessing you took it the day you finished the journal, you look sad, alone. He just wanted to hug you and tell you it's going to be alright.

[melolord14]

I Told You So

Lady Dimitrescu x fem reader

Note: So, I've been thinking about this idea for ages and I just couldn't get it out of my head. I couldn't resist - "Good Luck Babe" by Chappell Roan and it has been stuck in my head for so long that I had to write something. With the polls I had out y’all choose Lady Dimitrescu. Masterlist

The grand halls of Castle Dimitrescu were eerily silent as you wandered through them, the moonlight filtering through the tall, arched windows casting long shadows on the marble floors. The air was thick with an ancient, almost tangible melancholy that seemed to seep from the very walls. Alcina thought she had made the right decision about marrying her husband. She thought by doing so she would get the approval of her parents and their love, but it didn’t. The echoes of her footsteps were the only sound that accompanied her, a lonely rhythm in the vast, empty corridors.

Alcina remembered the times she had in her younger years, the carefree days filled with laughter and dreams that now seemed so distant. The haunting melody of a song echoed in her mind, each line a painful reminder of the choices she had made. The song's words wrapped around her heart like a cold, unrelenting grip, refusing to let go.

"When you wake up next to him in the middle of the night," she had woken up in the middle of the night and looked at the clock on her wall. The room was bathed in a soft, silvery glow from the moonlight streaming through the window. She carefully got up so as not to wake her husband and looked at him. He lay there, oblivious to her turmoil, his presence a constant reminder of her regrets. She didn’t know how he ended up in her bed in her room but he did. “With your head in your hands, you're nothing more than his wife.” Putting her head in her hands, she felt the cool metal ring on her face and pulled her head out of her hands to look at it with sadness. The ring, once a symbol of love and promise, now felt like a shackle. All she was to her husband was a possession and nothing more. She owned the castle he lived in and acted like he owned it.

The nights were long and lonely, filled with a sense of emptiness that she could never quite shake. The silence of the castle was oppressive, pressing down on her like a physical weight. The grand rooms, once filled with joy and life, now felt like a prison. Each corner of the castle held memories of a life that could have been, a life that was now out of reach.

But here, in the castle, things were different. The walls that once offered protection now seemed to close in on her, suffocating her with their cold indifference. The chandeliers, with their flickering candlelight, cast eerie shadows that danced mockingly on the walls. The portraits of her ancestors seemed to watch her with judgmental eyes, their silent reproach a constant reminder of her failures.

As she wandered through the halls, Alcina felt a deep, aching loneliness. The grandeur of the castle, with its opulent decorations and lavish furnishings, only served to highlight the void in her heart. She longed for the warmth of genuine love, the kind of love that could fill the emptiness inside her. But all she had were the cold, unfeeling walls of Castle Dimitrescu and the haunting melody of a song that echoed endlessly in her mind.

“And when you think about me, all of those years ago, you're standing face to face with 'I told you so.'" The voice rang in her head. The memory of you begging her not to marry him and stay with you, to build a life together away from people and away from her parents but she had refused. You had warned her about the life she was choosing, about the man she was marrying. But she hadn't listened. She had been young and naive and didn’t want to let down her parents, thinking maybe they would approve of her after she got married. Now, as she wandered the empty hall of the castle, the weight of her choices bore down on her.

The grand tapestries that adorned the walls seemed to mock her with their depictions of happier times, scenes of love and joy that now felt like cruel reminders of what she had lost. The flickering candlelight cast long, wavering shadows, creating an almost ghostly ambiance that made her feel even more isolated. Each step she took echoed through the vast, empty corridors, a lonely sound that mirrored the emptiness inside her heart.

Standing in front of your door, she hesitated to knock. Her hand hovered in the air, trembling with uncertainty. She lifted her hand to knock and stopped, her heart pounding in her chest. The silence of the night was deafening, and she could hear the faint rustle of the wind outside the castle walls. Finally, she pulled out enough courage to do so, her knuckles barely making a sound against the heavy wooden door. She didn’t know if you were up, but she had to see you, had to try and find some solace in the one person who had always understood her.

You couldn't fall asleep after all these years she had been married. You still loved her, the ache in your heart a constant reminder of the life you had once dreamed of together. The nights were long and restless, filled with thoughts of what could have been. When you heard the knock at your door, you wondered who it could be. Knocking in the middle of the night was unusual, and a sense of unease settled over you as you got up from your bed.

Opening your door, you found yourself standing face to face with Alcina. Her eyes were filled with a mix of sorrow and regret, her once confident demeanor now replaced with a vulnerability that took you by surprise. The air between you was thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. The sight of her standing there, so close yet so distant, stirred a whirlwind of feelings within you.

"Alcina," you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet of the night. The years of separation seemed to melt away in that moment, leaving only the raw, unfiltered emotions that had been buried for so long. The castle, with all its grandeur and opulence, faded into the background as you stood there, face to face with the woman you had never stopped loving.

You looked at Alcina and said the words you had spoken to her years ago when she had first told you about her marriage even though you two were together. You looked at her with sadness and understanding. “You know I hate to say, 'I told you so,'" you said softly, your voice carrying a hint of regret. "But I told you so."

Alcina gazed at you with a mix of sorrow and longing, her eyes welling up with tears as she tenderly reached out to gently cradle your face. "I understand," she murmured softly. "I wish things could have been different." With a heartfelt embrace, she drew you close.

"It's alright, Alcina. You followed your heart," you reassured her with a bittersweet smile, holding her tightly. "I’m leaving," you revealed.

Alcina nodded sadly, withdrawing from the embrace. "But why?" Her voice quivered, barely audible, filled with a blend of fear and anguish.

"I can't bear to stay here any longer. It pains me to see you with him, Alcina. My love for you remains, making it unbearable to witness you with him," you expressed quietly as you turned away, walking towards the balcony. The frigid night air stung your skin, and the stars overhead seemed to jeer at your suffering with their distant, indifferent glimmer.

Following you, Alcina's soft footsteps echoed softly against the stone floor. "I understand. I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so sorry. I should have listened to you that day, but I..." Alcina's voice faltered, her words breaking as she struggled to articulate her emotions. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, reflecting the moonlight.

You turned around and pulled her into an embrace, feeling the warmth of her body against yours despite the chill in the air. “Alcina, I love you. I will always love you,” you told her, your voice filled with a mixture of love and heartache. She held you closer, and you felt her shoulders shake as she began to cry, her tears soaking into your shirt.

Alcina managed to relax and tell you, “I love you too. I’ve always loved you,” she finally said after all those years. Her voice was raw with emotion, each word a testament to the depth of her feelings. How could she forget her first love?

You stood there together, the world around you fading into the background. The castle walls seemed to close in, creating an intimate cocoon where only the two of you existed. The night was silent except for the sound of Alcina’s quiet sobs and the steady beat of your heart. In that moment, you both understood that love, no matter how complicated or painful, was the one constant that had always connected you.

“Perhaps in a another universe, we could be united," you whispered gently. "Yet, across every lifetime, I would seek you out, and I will forever be yours, for I, Y/N L/N, belong to you, Alcina.” Alcina held you tighter as you spoke these words to her.

Alcina gazed lovingly into your eyes and whispered, "And I belong to you, Draga mea. I am yours and always have been." Her bittersweet smile hinted at the depths of her emotions. Holding you close, she knew that this moment would mark the end. She harbored a secret hope that in another lifetime, you would belong to her and her alone, just as she would belong to you.

[ibrithir-was-here]

The Goblin King's Huntsman

Ok so, I have been unable to draw or write for a few weeks now, so here's an old thing for the sake of feeling like I'm sharing something :/

Ages ago, I had a dream where Sarah went back to the Labyrinth with an older Toby, and got chased around by a masked figure sent by the Goblin King to capture her and take her prisoner. But eventually, as one does in dreams, the sense came that this persuer was just as much a prisoner of the Labyrinth, and when I woke up I started trying to craft a story for how he ended up as the Goblin King's Huntsman (I think I actually ended up headcanoning he was also the guy with the Muppet Blind Pew type mask at the Goblin Ball who keeps showing up watching Sarah and Jareth)

Long ago, when the mountains we know were no more than mole hills, and our mole hills were taller than the tallest mountains, a king’s daughter lay abed, wasting away from Melancholy. Her one true love had gone away to war, and had never returned. Now it looked as if she would soon follow him. 

Her father, the king, was distraught with grief and worry. He called all his wizards and wise women to help the princess, but none could discover a spell to cure her. They tried all manner of  weird and worrisome things, slime and snails, puppy dog tails, thunder and lightening. But nothing they tried worked. The princess grew paler and paler and weaker and weaker each day.

Finally, her father could bear it no longer, and in his grief, made a rash bargain. Now, this kingdom bordered that of the Labyrinth, ruled by the fearsome Goblin King, who would grant you  a wish if you said the right words, but never without a price. It was to him that the king turned. If the Goblin King would help his daughter, he promised to give him anything his heart desired. And the Goblin King agreed.

"But you must keep your word”, He warned, or terrible things would befall the king’s house.

 That very night, the Goblin King flew to the castle, entering the chamber of the princess in a beam of moonlight, as she lay motionless upon her bed. Taking her by her cold hand, he asked her what would be the first thing she would do if her heart was light once more. Thinking that she dreamt, the Princess replied that if the cause of her sorrow were taken away, she would dance away the night until the sun filled the sky.

With that, the Goblin King lifted her right out of the bed, declaring that they would do just that. And in the blink of an eye the Princess found herself in a beautiful ballroom, dressed in a gown made of tears and moonlight. There, amid a throng of strange and wondrous people, she danced away the night in the arms of the Goblin King. This went on every night for a month, and each day the Princess’s eyes grew brighter, and her cheeks more rosy, and she began to smile more and more.

The court was delighted, and none more so than the king, who had quite forgotten he still had yet to pay the Goblin King’s Price.  The day soon came, however, that the Goblin King presented the glowing Princess to the court, as fresh and lively as she had been before her One True Love was forced to leave her.

“Your daughter is well once more, neighbor.” said the Goblin King, “And now I would name my price, and I ask for the Princess Seraphine's hand in marriage.”

A cry of shock rang through the court, and none were more stunned by this request than the Princess herself. For though she was grateful to the Goblin King, and now considered him a dear friend, she did not love him,and could not think of anything she had said or done to make him think otherwise.

 “Sir, I will always be your friend, but I cannot marry you. My heart still belongs to Prince Meander, and ever shall until the day I too shall die, and be with him again.”

“ But the Prince is gone, my lady,  never to return. And besides, your father promised when he sought my services to grant whatever request I should ask of him. In my kingdom, you will never die, and as my wife, you  have to ask, and I will turn the universe upside down for your sake.”

Again, the princess repeated her assurance of gratitude and friendship, but stated that no matter what her father had promised, she had made no such bargain, and was not bound to uphold it. She did not love him, and would not marry him. At this second refusal, the Goblin King grew angry, and might have done something in his anger that he would have regretted, but at that moment, the doors to the palace burst open, and a stooped and haggard man stumbled into the hall.

His hair had grown long, and a patch covered one eye. His clothes were tattered and torn, and his armor had long since rusted. But the Princess knew him at once, and rushed to his side before he could fall. It was her One True Love, come back to her against all odds. 

They fell into each other arms, and kissed as only those who have walked beneath the shadow of death and come back into the sunlight can. And their kiss was so pure, and so true, that though they did not know it, the Goblin King’s claim upon the King and the Princess was utterly broken, for this kiss had healed her far more than any of his magics had.  For a long moment after, the Prince and Princess simply held each other, overcome with joy upon being united. Then the Prince’s eye fell upon the Goblin King.

“Ah! You dare show your face here villain?! You whose fell creatures aided the ranks of our enemies, and you whose dark fogs of forgetting spread out across the fields, ensnaring those trying to return home after? Many a dark and dangerous road I’ve traveled to find my love again.  I know not what mischief you do here, but it ends now!” And he drew a rust cankered sword upon the Goblin King.

The Goblin King did not move, or speak, he simply stood, staring at the lovers. The half-blind prince, with one arm around the Princess, who was holding the shivering, shaking man up as best she could. Her eyes had grown wide as she heard the Prince’s tale, and now they were dark and cold as they looked upon the Goblin King. Finally, with a sweep of his cloak, he bowed to the couple, sneering.

“It seems your ladyship need not wait till Death’s embrace to reunite with your lover. As you’ve made your feelings quite clear, I shall respect your wish, and pursue my suit no further. However, remember this--” 

And in a flash quicker than a strike of lightning, he was by the Princess’s side, whispering into her ear, with all the spite and malice he possessed:

 “The Price is still not paid…”

And then, he was gone.

The kingdom did not see nor hear anything of their worrisome neighbor for many a year, and by and by the unease left by the Goblin King’s threat was lifted. The reunited Prince and Princess were soon married, and in time, the Princess, now the Queen, gave birth to a healthy son, who grew into a fine young boy. He loved nothing more than to wander the fields and forests that lined his kingdom, making friends with all he met, noble or peasant, animal or fae. He was a kind and gentle boy, loved by all who knew him, so that he was never without a friendly eye watching over him, which eased his parent’s worries.

And then one day, when he was seven years old, he wandered farther than was his want, as though drawn by some strange and silent music. Past the orchards and fields, past the forests and falls, up the airy mountain, down the  rushing glen, into a strange waste land of bracken and gorse, until suddenly, he came upon a gate, bound to a stone wall that seemed to stretch endlessly out across the horizon. 

There was something odd and foreboding about the place, but the young prince was not afraid, for he had never before had need to fear. All the world was his friend. And so without hesitation, he pushed upon the heavy gate. It swung open easily, and the prince skipped inside as it shut silently behind him.

And from that day, his grieving parents never saw the young prince again.

[bunniekittiee]

how about for Bi-Han. He gifts his new bride a super fluffy and warm coat. I think this can be so sweet because not only he is doing to make sure she is warm and comfortable in his home in Artika, but also because that way they can take walks or sit in the gardens together to be cute and lovey.

Oh my goodness anon, you are fr a genius! I love this suggestion, I tried to make this as sweet as possible.

Bi-Han x Fem. Reader

Bi-Han was very used to the icy tundra he called home. His father made him train in the cold at a young age so his body could adjust to it. Now, the cold did not ache his bones or hurt his skin. He was used to it, and he did not realize at first that Y/N, his new bride, were not adjusted. Bi-Han had to marry her, in exchange for power over the clan she came from, in order to produce an heir one day. His clansmen continued to pester him about marrying, so he did in order to get them off his back. He was standoffish. He knew they both were tied together for the rest of their lives, but it was only for power. There was no love in between them. Or, at least, that is what Bi-Han tried to convince himself of.

Her loving gaze penetrated his encased heart, and he could not resist the looks she would give him. It was as if she loved him very much, but Bi-Han knew the whole point of their marriage was to get his clansmen to shut their mouths. At least on his part, that was.

That is what Bi-Han tried to convince himself of. But many aspects of this changed when she snuggled towards him during the nights, or how she would take his hand to ground himself back into the world. Bi-Han saw how she treated his brothers and it warmed his heart. He saw how much she and Kuai Liang were alike with their sweet nature and attitude. Or how her and Tomas still had a childish tinge to them when they went out together while Bi-Han was working.

Oh, he tried to convince himself it was nothing more. That he was just feeling lonely. That she was just his wife by marriage, and nothing more.

That was, until it was Bi-Han’s birthday. The Lin Kuei were never ones to celebrate birthdays. In fact, it was frowned upon. Foolish. So Bi-Han had never celebrated his birthday, nor his brothers. He treated it like a normal day.

But she, she did not. She remembered. Bi-Han hardly recalled even telling her his birthday. But when he came home that night, she had helped prepare his birthday dinner. She had ordered the cooks to make Bi-Han a dinner feast for his birthday of what meals he had as favorites. He was taken aback, maybe even a little proud of the fact that she remembered. He was never expecting this or even the phrase to slip past her lips, but her ‘happy birthday’ rang in his ears while she and his brothers sang to him quietly.

This solidified something in Bi-Han. That he, the Lin Kuei’s Grandmaster, had fallen in love with this foolish girl. But she was his foolish girl.

No details ever got past Bi-Han. He studied her like a cat and its prey. Noticing how she avoided going outside, Bi-Han analyzed her. Her shivers, the way she rubbed her skin to create warmth, how she curled into piles of blankets, how when Kuai Liang was in the room, she seemed to stop these behaviors and embrace his warmth.

It all became clear to him that he was blind. She was not adjusted to the cold like he was. She never had to sit out there in the cold like his father made him or train in freezing temperatures. She was delicate, untouched by such hardships in that nature. He never noticed this before and he internally fought with himself. Why would he be so blind to this?

He wanted to do something, he wanted to help her with the cold. So he decided for a few hours, he would put his duties to the side and visit someone in the village. But, he could not go alone. So he took his brothers.

“My, brother! For someone who was so adamant that he did not romantically love his wife, you are certainly proving yourself wrong.” Kuai Liang said with humor laced in his tone.

“Silence.” Bi-Han grumbled as they walked through the village. “I do not want to see her cold and suffering.”

Tomas could not help but smile under his mask. Bi-Han was learning how to live with and love another person. In his own ways. It made him happy to see his brother learning something new that he hardly had any experience in. The positive aspect was that he was learning.

They arrived at the seamstress where they had their own uniforms tailored and fixed. The Lin Kuei did not necessarily have a tailor as they could not train one themselves. Many were old, the Arctika would eat away at their bones. And most did not want to live in there, they had their own families to go home to.

“My lovelies.” cooed a gentle voice. She was an older woman, one that Bi-Han remembers his father coming to when he was a young boy. “What brings you in here today?”

Kuai Liang and Tomas said their greetings and stepped back to let Bi-Han take the stage. “Good afternoon. My wife needs a winter coat. A really warm one, for that matter.” He said stiffly. He was never the best at interacting with outsiders.

She hummed as she searched her drawers. “I believe I have her measurements in here somewhere. I am surprised the Grandmaster himself came to ask me. I thought you would send a solider.”

He scoffed. “They are incompetent. It is better if I make the important errands.”

Finding what she needed, she brought out Y/N’s measurements. “Winter coat you say? Extra fur lining in the sleeves and the bodice?”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps extra fur in every part of it.” She said as she began to draw out what she was going to make. “What colors?”

“Blue and black.”

She chuckled. “Even your wife cannot escape the Lin Kuei colors.” The seamstress focused on her quick drawing as Kuai Liang and Tomas waited patiently. Bi-Han watched like a hawk as her hand moved diligently across the paper. “Grandmaster, this is what the end piece will look like.”

Showing him, he looked at it more and nodded. “Yes, that is what I want.”

Nodding her head back, she set it down onto her table. “It will be a little expensive, Grandmaster.”

He internally rolled his eyes. “Nothing I cannot afford. I will pay now. I need this coat as soon as possible.”

Paying her and saying their goodbyes, their quick trip had only lasted forty minutes. Although Bi-Han could have been working in those forty minutes, he was glad that he did this instead. He was looking forward to his wife’s reaction to her coat. Once reaching their home, the brothers went their separate ways to tend to their orders.

Two days later, Bi-Han and his brothers made their way back to the village to retrieve the coat. She was a fast working seamstress, and Bi-Han was relieved she finished it so soon.

“This is the final product.” She said as she held the coat up. “Are there any additions you want to add to this piece?”

Bi-Han shook his head. Her work was beautiful. The coat itself was a dark, rich blue. Matching his own uniform. The black accented it. The fur looked so soft to touch. Tomas almost wanted one for himself.

She wrapped it in parchment paper and put it into a box, sending them on their back, smiling at the love-stricken Bi-Han. He debated on when he should give it to her.

“Brother, if i may say,” Tomas said as they walked back. Bi-Han murmured a ‘yes’ in response. “I believe you should take the rest of the day off. Spend time with her since she will be able to go outside without feeling freezing.”

Bi-Han sharply sighed. “I cannot take the entire day to spend it with her. I am busy with my duties, as you are too.”

Kuai Liang shook his head. “Brother, we will take over your duties. It is not like you do this everyday.”

“I can spend another day with her.”

“But brother, you have hardly spent time with her since you married. You are in love with her no matter how much you say you are not.”

He felt his chest tighten at Kuai’s words. Was it so obvious? As much as Bi-Han knew he had to work, he could hardly get her out of his mind. To see her reaction to her new coat, to hold her, to touch her, to spend time with her. It was an internal debate.

“Brother?” Tomas asked a little worriedly.

Bi-Han sighed again. “Fine, I will spend the day with her. But I cannot do this often.” They smiled, grateful that their brother was finally learning to make time. Even though he only did it because they put pressure on him. It was a step into the right direction.

Arriving back at home, the brothers went their separate ways once more. Bi-Han trudged to his home, a little eager to give his wife her present. He had never felt this way before. He felt almost stupid.

She sat in one of the chairs in the entertainment room as she read a book quietly. Her hair had fallen into her face a little bit, and it squeezed Bi-Han’s heart. She was beautiful.

“My love,” he said to her, these words feeling foreign in his mouth. She looked up at him, a small smile on her lips. “Yes, Grandmaster?”

He walked closer to her and held out the box. “This is for you.”

She took the box from his hands gently and looked a little confused. Bi-Han felt himself have a twinge of nervousness licking away at the pit of his stomach. Untying the ribbons, she slid the top of the box off and took out the coat, unwrapping the parchment paper as well. Her eyes widened at the thick, fluffy coat that was sitting on her lap. “Bi-Han…”

“I noticed how cold you have been. I am sorry for not paying attention sooner.” He said, feeling a little ashamed that his wife had to go this long without feeling warm.

“Bi-Han, it is gorgeous.” She said breathlessly as she held it up. “Thank you so much, Bi-Han. This is… really special.” She stood up and slipped the coat onto her body. Bi-Han’s heart began to race as his eyes scanned over her body. The coat fit her snuggly and she looked stunning.

“You are beautiful.” He rasped.

She blushed. “Thank you, my beloved.”

He felt himself start to blush at her sweet nicknames but fought it back. “Take a walk with me?”

Quickly walking to his side, they both began to take a stroll into the garden. Although they were surrounded by snow and ice, the flowers were ever so vibrant. Their beauty did not falter in the cold temperatures, just like Bi-Han’s flower did neither. She looked so pretty in the snow and in her coat, he felt himself start to think about a million things all at once. That was unlike the Grandmaster. The stoic, hardened heart Grandmaster was now thinking about romantic gestures and how to express it to his wife.

He grasped her hand into his when he knew they were not around his soldiers. She held his back, smiling at him shyly. He felt a small smile rise to his lips. She made him feel so loving and warm. But it was sickening. He was never used to this.

“Your coat suits you.” He said as they sat down on a bench together in the garden.

“Thank you, Bi-Han. It means a lot to me. It is really warm.” She said while snuggling into it. He wished she would snuggle into him.

They sat in silence as they admired the bright colors of the flowers against the white snow. She broke their silence. “I know that our marriage was more so a deal, but I cannot help but love you, Bi-Han.”

His chest tightened once more. “I cannot help but love you as well.”

She smiled at him. “I am happy to hear that, my beloved.”

Bi-Han had the overwhelming urge to kiss her. His brown eyes averted from her eyes to her lips and back to her eyes. The only time they had really kissed was on their wedding day, but he never thought he would crave her kisses. Caressing her face, he pulled her in for a gentle kiss.

A little surprised, she kissed him back. All that surrounded them were the beautiful flowers and silence. When they pulled away, Bi-Han rested his forehead against hers.

“I love you, my dearest.”

“I love you more, Bi-Han.”

Embracing her, he pulled her closer to his body as they looked back at the flowers. He was a little stiff due to how new it was to him, but he felt himself start to relax. She rested her head on his chest, sighing in peace.

Bi-Han had never thought he could love another person romantically with his lifestyle. He always thought that he could not bring love into his life, yet here he was. He adored his wife, feeling tenderness for her as their time together increased. His frozen heart began to thaw out. Kuai Liang and Tomas noticed his new behavior and how his moods were starting to change. He made more time throughout the week to spend time with his loveliness. Whether it was for an hour or a few minutes, his brothers saw how much she could change his mood and his behavior. He wasn’t softening up, but he was a little less aggressive.

Bi-Han always made sure to take walks with her or sit in their gardens. Their time together was precious, and as much as he wanted to spend every moment with her, he knew with his duties he could not. So this would have to suffice. And she still wore that coat he gifted her at every walk they would take. It made him proud. Proud to know that he was loved and cared for by someone other than his brothers, and who he felt the same for.

The Grandmaster was never one for love, but he now understood how important it was to have it in life. It was an intimate ordeal. Something that could never be replicated over and over.

[spoilmesweetieforficssake]

hi hi hi!! I love your fics so much and i don't know if you're still taking requests but if you are could you write a Melissa x reader where the reader is madly in love with Melissa and everyone kind of knows except for Mel. And when Mel starts flirting with Gary reader starts going on random dates to try and get over Mel, but Mel gets jealous and hates every person that reader tries to date. And their friendship gets all angsty but they of course end up happily together and everyone at Abbott is like "finally took you two long enough"

I feel like saying this has taken forever isn't actually an exaggeration - but better late than never! I hope after all this time that this is at least close to what you were looking for. I admit though, I got a bit indecisive with the ending, so there are actually two and you can pick which you prefer.!

~

Melissa and Gary are a thing, and you hate it. Worse, you hate that you hate it.  You want to be happy for her, you really do, but you can’t help the way your heart clenches painfully every time you hear her talk about what she and Gary are doing together, or apparently the nausea that comes with seeing them together.

Still, you weren’t raised without manners and in love with your friend though you may be, you are Melissa’s friend first and foremost.  So you slap on a smile and endure the looks of sympathy from your colleagues. 

When you start to distance yourself it’s not because you don’t want to spend time with the redhead, but as an act of self-preservation.  Your little Abbott family, who were annoyingly quick to pick up on the fact you were in love with the red head, are also quick to pick up on the shift. 

Barb is the first to say something out loud, offering to set you up with a nice girl she knows.  It’s unexpected and takes you by surprise.  “Thanks, Barb.  It’s really sweet of you but I’m not looking for anything serious just now.”

You miss the daggers being aimed at the kindergarten teacher behind your head and in making a break for the coffee machine you also miss the older woman’s raised eyebrow in response to a certain red head. 

*

“So, how many matches did we get?” asks Jacob like it’s some kind of team game, as he comes into the break room to find you on your phone. 

It had been games night the night before, but the board game had ended up set aside and Jacob and Janine got you set up on Tinder.  Melissa suddenly becomes very interested in your phone screen over your shoulder.

“You really think you need an app to get a date?”

“Well we can’t all have our other halves roll in with our favourite drinks, can we?” you quip, ignoring her jibe.  You keep your eyes on your phone, all too aware of the silence that has fallen over the breakroom at your comment.

You jump as Melissa suddenly leans over your shoulder, swiping at your screen.

“She’s too old for you.”

You turn to look at the red head with a raised eyebrow.  “Actually, I set the age range myself, so she’d have been just the right age.”

She huffs and you turn back to your phone, and if you swipe with a little more vigour than before, well, it’s certainly not to prove a point. 

*

You manage to set up a couple of dates via the app, but they’re terrible.  What you hoped could be a chance to blow of a little steam ends of being up being a few awkward drinks with people who are more interested in their image and talking about themselves than anything else. 

Not that you tell that to Melissa.  No, as far as she’s aware the string of dates you’ve on have been great. 

“Yeah, that’s why you keep going on new ones,” she quips one day.

“I didn’t say I planned on marrying these people,” you huff.  “But it’s not illegal to want a little fun!”

Melissa snorts.  “You’re not that shallow,” she smirks as she passes you on her way out of the room.

You lay your head on the table, groaning. 

“Those dates that bad, huh?”

Your head flies up at the words, eyes wide as you take in Ava pouring a liberal amount of sugar into her coffee.  Had she been there the whole time?  “They’ve not been great,” you admit.  “I don’t tend to well on dates when I’ve never really met the person, never mind barely messaged them,” you admit.

Ava cocks her head to the side.  “You let Tweedledumb and Tweedleditzy set up that account, didn’t you?”

You nod, not quite sure where she’s going with this.

“Yeah, you ain’t gonna get dates who just want to do the dirty and not expect breakfast in the morning with something they set up.”  She slides into the seat opposite you and holds out her hand.  “I can fix that.  Gimme your phone.”

She rolls her eyes as you flinch back.  “You know what?  Forget that stupid app.  I’ll get you a date.  You’ll love this one.  Trust me.”

You’re not entirely convinced you do as she waggles her eyebrows playfully at you, but surely anything has to be better than the dates you’ve recently been on?

*

You walk in to the bar and for a moment you think that Ava has somehow set you up with Melissa.  The red hair catches you attention first, the feminine curves a quick second, but then you realise the hair is not quite the right colour, the curves less pronounced.  The description of the outfit matches though so after taking a moment to compose yourself, you make your way over and say hi. 

Blue eyes meet yours as she stands and the woman takes a moment to look you up and down as you squirm under the attention.  How people can do anything other than blush and stutter under the scrutiny of a beautiful woman you’re not sure.  One thing you do know though, is that this woman is indeed beautiful.

“Ava said you might be a little nervous, so got you a drink.” 

You thank her, taking a sip only to realise that Ava must have also told the woman what you drank.  Your second sip turns more into a gulp as you proceed to down the drink.  “Sorry,” you say sheepishly.  “Could at least have asked your name before I downed the drink you bought me.”

She smiles at your embarrassment, extending a hand.  “Joanne,” she offers.  “Jo, if I decide I like you.”

“Here’s hoping,” you smile back, shaking the offered hand. 

*

It’s going well, you realise.  The conversation is flowing between you and can’t deny she’s attractive.  She seems to like what she sees too if her flirting and casual touches are anything to go by.  There’s just one problem.  There’s another red head on your mind and you can’t help but compare the two. 

Joanne seems to feel your hesitancy.  “It’s fine,” she says, her smile turning gentle as she places a hand on your arm.  “Ava suggested you might be a little emotionally unavailable, but it’s been a while since I had a date with a cute girl, so I figured what’s the harm?”

“Sorry,” you say, ducking your head. 

“Don’t be,” smiles the red head.  “Look, we’re here, why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

“You don’t deserve that,” you say, shaking your head.

Joanne merely smirks.  “You’re buying the drinks.”

There’s something about her easy manner that puts you at ease.  You look up at her, waiting patiently for you to speak.  Ava had clearly told her more than your favourite tipple. 

“What’s her name?” she asks.

You feel your cheeks heat up.  Here you are, sitting on a date with a beautiful, interesting, apparently endlessly patient woman, and she’s asking about her.  “Melissa,” you say in all but a whisper.

“Let me guess,” smirks the other woman.  “Red head, my kinda age?”

Your blush only deepens.

Joanne chuckles.  “Ava ain’t subtle, honey.  But you know you gotta move on before your little heart breaks even more.” 

The hand that had been resting on your arm moves to cup your cheek as she leans in to kiss you.  It’s nice.  It’s really nice.  And for a moment, you find you’re not thinking about Melissa. 

*

“Well fuck,” sighs Melissa, halting in her steps.  She stands, unable to look away as she sees you in the bar, clearly on a date.  For a moment, she’s not sure what to do.  She had been on her way to your apartment, but she can hardly interrupt your night now.  “What a shitty end to a shitty night,” she breathes, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets as she turns on her heel and heads home, her steps much less determined than they had been.

*

When Monday rolls around you’re in a better mood than you’ve been in a while.  To your surprise, you actually enjoyed Ava’s date.  She was good company, and after you were honest with her, it turned out she was also rather good at giving advice.  The advice being that you should be the friend you’ve always been to Melissa, after all, it’s not the red head’s fault you fell in love with her.  The kissing and light making out was just a bonus, really.  A little fun never hurt, after all. 

Melissa, however, isn’t quite so bright come Monday.  She’s quiet, distracted and when you finally ask what’s wrong at lunch, she just shakes her head and leaves the room.  You look to Barb, hoping she’ll take pity and at least cast a little light on the situation. 

“She and Gary broke up,” she tells you quietly, her voice low to keep the other’s from hearing.

“Oh,” you breathe.  You’re not quite sure what to say to that.

*

At the end of the day, you look up from your tidying to find Melissa loitering in your doorway.  “Hey,” you say by way of greeting.  “Barb told me,” you tell her, offering a sad smile.  “Sorry to hear.”

She shrugs.  “I think I knew it was coming…just, didn’t expect it to happen the way it did.”

You watch as she comes to sit on the edge of your desk.  “Saw you out on your date on Saturday.  Was actually on my way to yours.”

“Oh,” you say, your cheeks heating up.  “Yeah, Ava set me up.  She was great but we’re not taking it any further.  Or at least, it’s nothing serious.”

“But you looked like you were having a good time, and she…”

You shake your head.  “I was…it was…Gary’s an ass by the way, for leaving you,” is what finally comes out.

“Actually, Gary isn’t an ass” she sighs.  “Gary called it quits because he asked me if I’d ever say yes if he asked me the question…and I told him I couldn’t.”  She drops her gaze, hanging her head.  “He knew it wasn’t just my past that meant I couldn’t say yes.  He knew my heart wasn’t in it…”

You start putting two and two together and getting dangerously close to four.  Gary broke up with Melissa because she wouldn’t say yes to that question.  Because her heart wasn’t in it. 

“Why did Ava set you up with that woman?” asks Melissa, still not looking up. 

Unable to properly see her face, hidden as it is by her hair, you can’t read her expression as you’d like to.  Your next words feel important thought.  “Ava knows my type.”

Melissa nods, her eyes still on the floor.  “Why ain’t you gonna see that woman again?”  This time she does look up.  “You looked like you were actually enjoying yourself.”

“I was,” you admit.  There’s no point lying.  She saw you, probably smiling and laughing.  “Ava set me up with her because she knew I’d find her attractive.  But she also told her I might be a bit hung up on someone else, so that night, when you saw me with her, I was probably talking about you.”

“You were talking about me, with her, while she was kissing you?”

That comment lets you place when Melissa would have walked by.  You nod.  “When you saw me, that was probably right around the time she told me I should think about moving on if I didn’t want to break my own heart even more.”

Melissa stands and is in front of you before either of you can think.  She looks at you for what feels like forever, green eyes searching your face, for what you don’t know.  She reaches up to touch your face and you close your eyes on instinct, gasping at the featherlight touch of her lips against yours.  Covering the hand on your face with your own, you open your eyes as she pulls back.  “I can’t do this if your heart’s not in it.”

“What if it is?”

* Ava

*

“Well I was gonna ask how you enjoyed my date but I guess I got my answer.”

The pair of you jump at the sound of Ava’s voice.

“About damn time you two got your shit together.  If I’d knows all it would take to get you with this spicy white was to put another firecracker in front of you I’d have done it months ago!”  She claps her hands excitedly.  “Oh this is too good to keep!”  She disappears from the doorway, only for her head to pop back around a moment later.  “Just no funny business in front of the kids.  But what happens in the supply closet stays in the supply closet,” she grins, waggling her eyebrows at the pair of you.  With that, she leaves you, the sound of her heels echoing along the hallway. 

“Ava!” scolds Melissa, thinking she’s going to have to take disinfectant wipes the next time she ventures into the supply closet.  With Ava, there’s no guessing what level of depravity the room has been subjected to. 

You know your cheeks are beet red, and you hide your face against Melissa’s shoulder. 

“This isn’t exactly how I saw this going,” admits the red head. 

Raising your head, you look up at her with hopeful eyes.  “But you saw it going somewhere?”

She shrugs.  “You seem keen on going on all these dates, how about one with me?”

Biting your lip, you take a moment to just look at her; the slightly shy expression, the twinkle in her eye.  Nodding, you lean in to kiss her once more.

“You know I almost didn’t believe her.”

You pull apart to see Barb in the doorway.

Melissa rolls her eyes.  “Anyone else wanna come and watch?”

A moment later Janine’s head appears around the doorframe, Jacob close behind.

“Seriously?” snaps the red head, hands on her hips. 

Ava returns, a wide grin plastered on her face.  “They wanted to come and confirm before I collected my winnings.”

“Winnings?” asks Melissa, eyebrow raised and tone bordering on dangerous.

“Hand it over people,” smirks Ava, hand extended.

“Oh hell no!”  The red head snaps into action, heading for the group.  “You did not bet on me!”  She snatches the notes from Ava’s outstretched hand.  “You bet on my happiness I’m sure you won’t mind if this goes towards it!  Y/N? Let’s go!”

You look at the hand being held out towards you and are quick to hoist your bag onto your shoulder and follow her.  You duck your head and blush under everyone’s gaze but can’t help but grin as your hand settles in her own. 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” calls Ava. 

The group watches you both go, Melissa rolling her eyes at the hollering they let out as she puts a possessive arm around your waist.

* Barb *

If Barb notices that Melissa is unusually reserved as they order their drinks she says nothing of it.  Truth be told, she had only suggested the meal to make sure Melissa wasn’t left sitting in the house on her own on a Friday night, or worse, going out to the bars on her own in search of some company for the night.

“There’s something I gotta tell you,” says the red head, setting down the menu wasn’t even reading. 

“You’re not getting back together with him, are you?” asks the Kindergarten teacher. 

“What?  No!  No, I…that’s over and it’s for the best,” replies Melissa.  “No, the night Gary broke up with me, I ended up going for a walk to clear my head and ended up heading to Y/N’s apartment, except I didn’t quite make it there,” she admits.  “I saw her out on that date Ava set her up on.”  She sighs, wishing she had waited for their drinks to have arrived.  “And it made me feel…”

“Jealous?” Barb ventures.

Melissa looks up, meeting her friend’s eyes.  “I guess that covers it, yeah.”  Taking a deep breath, she pushes on.  “Anyway, I spoke to her on Monday about it…and I might have kissed her.”  Admission made, she looks away, pleased to see the waiter arriving with their drinks.  She doesn’t even let him put it on the table before she takes it and raises it to her lips.  It’s only when she finally sets her cocktail glass down, half empty, that she dares to look at her friend once more.

What she sees is a gentle smile.

“Took you long enough.”

“What?” she asks, a frown creasing her features.

“You have liked that girl since before Gary was even on the scene,” says Barb.

Melisa’s frown only deepens.  “Then why did you push me, literally may I add, in his direction?”

At this, Barb’s smile falters.  “I hoped it might make you realise how you felt about her.”

The red head lets out a huff, reaching for her glass once more.  “Well that went well, didn’t it?”

“It wasn’t my finest moment”, admits the older woman.  “But maybe it’s all finally working out in the end?”

Melissa fidgets with her straw.  “So you don’t think she’s too young? Too…”

Reaching out, Barb places a gentle hand on her friend’s arm.  “I think she’s in love with you, and I think you like her, a lot.”

Cheeks pinking, Melissa puts down her glass.  “I do.  A lot.  A helluva lot.”

Knowing it says something in itself the fact the red head isn’t making a joke, but rather admitting how she feels, Barb knows this is the real deal.  She knows if this goes South that hearts will be well and truly broken, but she’s seen the two of you together.  You work well together.  There’s a quiet in you that balances out the boisterousness of Melissa.  A steadiness that although she won’t admit it, the red head craves. 

“I think you could be good for each other,” she says softly.  “And no, I don’t think she’s too anything.”