#Answers understood with faith.
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rhodyrich · 10 months ago
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storyshift-sk · 5 months ago
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this au concept is so cool,,, waaaaahshdndjf
feel free not to answer if its big boy lore you dont wanna drop yet, but did chara make the mask themselves? it's so cool,,,
Thank you sm!!! Chara and Asriels dad, Dr Asgore did, actually! Then Toriel sewed up the outfit with the feet, hands, tail, n stuff :3
The mask is not exactly a robotic type thing/something SUPER complicated, but it certainly is convincing-
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letmetellyouaboutmyfeels · 2 years ago
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The I feel like she sees me line being said to Eddie who is the person that truly sees Buck for all that he is. Are we supposed to take this line at face value which would indicate piss poor writing because they needed to rush to a horrible ending or do we take it as Buck being an unreliable narrator? What was the audience supposed to interpret from Buck saying that, were we truly supposed to believe him or we supposed to be pissed at Buck for saying this to the one person that truly sees Buck?
Good morning to me, I guess.
I'm assuming you haven't really seen people's reactions in the fandom on tumblr because I feel like I saw this said in quite a few posts going around, but you are absolutely not supposed to take this line at face value. I'm surprised that people think you should. 9-1-1 has from the beginning had a habit of turning friendships into romantic relationships (Bathena and Madney) and taking their time with these things rather than having an instalove situation. Even Karen and Hen, who meet when they're set up on a date together, don't instantly fall in love. I do not think they would set Eddie or Buck up for an endgame relationship with a woman by having them date that woman immediately, even if they didn't plan to make Buddie canon.
Buck is clearly struggling post-death. He's lost and once again looking for the answer from a romantic partner. He did a lot of growth in regards to his family relationships this season but not his romantic ones. Remember, his couch ended up destroyed and he asked his latest girlfriend to pick the new one out for him. Again. He's still not picking his own damn couch. After being unable to sleep on the one his mom gave him but passed out instantly on Eddie's where he ran to feel safe.
If people think this is all, somehow, an accident or the writers are doing this without knowing what they're doing, then I can't help you. Do you also think the symbolism I put into my fanfics are a total accident? Do you guys think I picked the name of the poem "Fuchsia Emerald Alizarin Rose" just because the colors are fun and they accidentally spell out F.E.A.R. or do you think maybe I did that absolutely 100% on purpose and was waiting for someone to realize?
Buck saying that to Eddie is 100% supposed to make the audience raise their eyebrows. Especially when we see Eddie's reaction. He's confused and he's hurt and he's annoyed. Eddie then spends his next few lines showing Buck (and us) that he sees Buck. Buck misses it, it goes right over his head, but the audience is shown that Buck is wrong and Eddie sees him.
I think there was a lot of internal stuff going on behind the scenes way high up the ladder that meant Buddie didn't happen this season. No, I don't mean that in a tinhatting way, I just mean that they knew Fox wouldn't renew them, they didn't know if they'd get picked up somewhere else, Fox hasn't promoted or cared about this show the way it has its other shows in a while, and I think it's pretty clear there was shuffling and changes going on with 6B. So I think things had to be put off. Similar to the pandemic, where I genuinely wonder what kind of season four we would've gotten if we'd had the full 18 episodes and hadn't had to work around Covid. I think that when we know there was a big shift going on behind the scenes, we need to have some grace and patience in how that will effect the story that's told on screen.
But I think that this default to "everything good we see on our screens is an accident and the writers are making shitty choices" is a horrible bad faith argument, and it's exhausting. Aren't you exhausted? I'm exhausted. Fandom shouldn't treat the writing and production team like their enemies any more than the writing and production team should treat the fans like their enemies in some kind of war they have to win (looking at you, GoT showrunners).
We are supposed to be annoyed that Buck is missing the point. We are supposed to see Buck's yearning to be a husband and a father, and how he's missing what's right in front of him. We are supposed to put two and two together and see that Eddie was hurt by Buck's words, that Eddie sees Buck, that Eddie is Buck's safe place, and that Eddie in that moment decided he might not have a chance with Buck and needs to move on, because previously we saw Eddie admit he wants romance again but he doesn't want to go out on dates, we saw his aunt say she met her husband through work, we saw him say 'we have time' and then we saw him immediately after Buck tells him about this new girl who "sees him" flee to visit his mother and then immediately actually try dating. On a meta level this is also because Eddie needs confidence in himself as a romantic partner and needs some more experience under his belt before he's ready to take the plunge with Buck, but in Eddie's mind, I think it's pretty clear he feels Buck will never want him back and he's trying to find the love he wants somewhere else, even if his heart is still Buck's.
So that's what I think. I think it's not explicitly spelled out for a few reasons, but frankly if one of them was a woman we wouldn't need it explicitly spelled out and personally I kinda like that it's not. Something that annoys me with M/F pairings is the constant "we all know you two like each other" talks from third parties that half the time aren't about the characters but are about the audience, to either tell the audience SEE THEY LIKE EACH OTHER THAT'S WHAT THIS IS ABOUT or to give the audience some fanservice while the characters aren't ready to get together. I don't need to be pandered to that way, thank you, so I'm a fan of the slightly more subtle approach that I, personally, see going on with Buddie.
If you or anyone else disagrees with me and feels it was just "piss poor writing" then that's entirely your right. I'd just appreciate it if people who feel that way would stop watching the show, and stop putting their complaints into the inboxes of people who clearly do enjoy the show.
TL;DR - You answered your own question, Buck is an unreliable narrator (and always has been) and we are supposed to be frustrated he said this to Eddie who has proven time and again (and does so in that very scene) that he sees Buck.
#lincoln answers things#911 meta#I'd be a lot more open to talking about 6B and the writing#if I felt people understood how much things were clearly going on BTS#and that affected what happened on our screens#and if people were acting in good faith and trusting the writers#I agree that all the fun meta and speculation can become a bit uh#red-string-board for sure#I've seen and even playfully reblogged stuff that I felt was stretching it a bit#but I don't think it's conspiracy thinking or anything of that nature#to assume the writers are able to see what they're putting up on our screens#or that everything good about Buddie is on purpose instead of some happy accident#or that the writers wouldn't do all this stuff if they didn't have the intention of making Buddie canon#because honestly this sort of stuff going on with Buddie I have only seen in two other situations#1. a Xena type situation where the writers could not make it canon but wanted to so did everything else they could get away with#or 2. there was a schism among the powers that be and some or most of the BTS team wanted it but there were others#who did not and so there's a BTS tug of war going on#personally the 911 team seems really united so I don't think it's 2 and I doubt it's 1 but if it is 1 I think the move to ABC will fix that#I think it's more likely it's not 1 or 2 but BTS issues affecting various storylines and writing#(for example when was the last time Athena got a real character arc that lasted a full season like everyone else?)#(when was the last time Athena had genuine growth?)#(I feel like she's mostly the same person she was in season one compared to everyone else's leaps and bounds)#(and that's simply because Angela has been insanely busy filming in other places so she might be in every episode)#(but they can't usually make her a big FOCUS of a season because she hasn't been available)#but I would really like people to presume that maybe just maybe#the people whose careers it is to tell these stories know how to tell these stories#and that not everything we are shown or told by characters should be taken at face value#and that the writers want the audience to do the math themselves#without having to spell everything out constantly#anyway I fucking hate my job and I'm not sleeping well and I'm fucking exhausted so I'm gonna start charging for asks like these
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abnormalpsychology · 11 months ago
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I LOVE MY FRIEND C DEARLY!!!!!! I COULD WRITE PAGES OF PLATONIC SONNETS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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chrollohearttags · 3 months ago
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love thy neighbor • r. sukuna
(Y/N) moves into an apartment complex on the other side of town and winds up living right next door to one of the most notorious drug dealers in the city nonetheless! But looks can be deceiving…
📝: black!fem plus size reader, plug!sukuna, age gap (6 years or so) mentions of toxic relationship and baby trapping, religious trauma, anxiety, alcohol + drug use, comfort + fluff and angst to smut, missionary, prone bone, oral sex, reader cries during, daddy is used a couple times, size difference, lots of kissing, positive affirmations, creampie
wc: 3.0K
🎙️: I swear imma get back to posting regularly! I’m just being lazy and hating my writing rn (it sucks) 😭 but I hope y’all enjoy
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you didn’t know what to expect when you found yourself residing on the same floor as plug!sukuna..it was your first time living on your own. Fresh out of your parents’ house with minimal belongings and all of the savings you had managed to scrounge over the years. Enough to cover first and last month’s rent with some extra left over..working as a receptionist in a local doctors office by day and offering online tutoring services at night to suffice your income. You'd return home from your shift, ready to relax by at least eight o clock..meanwhile, plug!sukuna was just beginning his night. Heading out into the streets to do God knows what until the early morning hours. But he’d never leave until he’d done two things: said hello and made sure that you were straight. You never really understood the logic behind it..especially considering the fact that you weren’t exactly close friends or even acquaintances beforehand. Hell, he didn’t know you at all and yet, he was just as kind as an old lady bringing you cookies to welcome you to the neighboorhood.
nonetheless, plug!sukuna would always tell you “..keep that door locked, don’t answer that shit for nobody and call me if you need anything, aight?” his deep voice was the last voice you’d heard for the evening and the first when you awoke in the morning. Sometimes, he’d even bring you breakfast per your request and you’d eat together. You’d cut off all ties to your controlling, religious fanatic family and the narcissistic ex who’d all but attempted to stick you with a kid you didn’t want and turn you into his personal doll…trapped inside of the house with no purpose other than to serve him. It was the way all of the men in your former faith operated. But you weren’t interested. Not in the slightest. In fact, you wanted change so drastic, it’d make their goddamn heads spin! Over time, you’d grow closer to plug!sukuna. His second long check ins and warnings became full blown conversations as the two of you congregated downstairs in the pool area or at the mailbox for a cup of coffee. A cigarette dangling from his fingertips to go light once he went outside.
“I know this place seems nice and all from first glance but…imma let you in on a lil’ secret, baby. It’s all types of people who come here..looking for trouble and hell, I’m not gonna lie to you. I’m part of the reason. That’s why I tell you to keep your door locked. Your pretty ass answers for the wrong person and somebody is bound to try and take advantage. ��Damn shame I’d have to fuck someone up if something were to happen to you..”
plug!sukuna was sweet and endearing in his own right. But that’s what drew you into him..he was the very antithesis to what you knew men to be. Brutally honest yet so empathetic to your feelings. Rough as hell around the edges but a total gentleman. He may have done horrible things but he was a good guy..the best damn one you’d ever met. Unbeknownst to him, you’d watch him from the window leaving out; others surrounding him in the parking lot in similar cars. Blacked out with tinted windows..doing sleight of hand to pass something to other tenants who you’d recognized. Only what you could assume to be drugs. A couple of the guys you’d recognized from church, talking to deacons and pastors..now it’d all made so much more sense. Even so, plug!sukuna kept you out of that part of his life as much as possible. Eventually, some months would pass and it was a secret to no one that you’d grown quite fond of him..damn near smitten even.
however, plug!sukuna was adamant on not taking it there with you! He’d admitted himself that you were beautiful and in another life, any other circumstances..he wouldn’t hesitate to make you his. The problem was, you were still too vulnerable and he was knee deep in a lifestyle he wanted you to steer clear from. You were healing from years of trauma and downright abuse..trying to navigate this world on your own. If he were any other scumbag, he could have easily sucked you into his world and had you out here doing his bidding.
“(Y/N) baby..do you know how many girls just like you..who leave bad situations and end up in worse ones because some nasty motherfucker saw how vulnerable they were and used that to their advantage? How many girls went from being in the church to being on their knees for some pimp? I care too much ‘bout you to let that happen. I’m no good for you, I swear. You’d only end up hurt because I can’t give you all of me. Shit, I can’t even promise I’d make a good boyfriend. I’m selfish as hell, I’m always gone..I’ve slept with more women than I can remember. What could you possibly want with somebody like me, huh? What could I possibly do for you, (y/n)?”
but you saw right through plug!sukuna’s facade. He was gentle at heart..a romantic even. He wanted his person to spoil and adore just as much as you did. The streets were his only love for most of his life. He’d seen many things but nothing quite like you..those round, doe eyes; so innocent and pure. Pouty lips, chubby cheeks and the soft, ringlet curls that surrounded that gorgeous face. That soft, plump body and those thighs that rubbed together when you walked away. He wanted to devour you whole sometimes..many nights had plug!sukuna lied in his bed next door, thinking of you being on top of him. Those perky breasts jiggling as he bounced you up and down on his cock. Those nails clawed at his chest as sweat poured down his skin. But those thoughts were far too lewd and disgusting for someone like you! He was ashamed of even having them. But he couldn’t help himself..especially when that sweet, airy voice all but begged him to take you.
“Because I love you, Ryo..I love everything about you. Even the bad shit. I don’t care what you do because it’s not who you are..you’re the man that brings me food and coffee in the morning so I don’t have to rush before work. You’re the man who kisses my forehead when he leaves because you know, deep down..it could be the last time I see you. You’re the man who calls me every time he hears a gunshot or sirens because he worries himself sick about me when I’m not near him. You carry my laundry baskets and groceries, you clean my apartment while I’m sleeping because I’m too tired. And not once have you ever tried to touch me. You never made me repay you with sex or anything. You could easily hurt me and you can’t even bring yourself to raise your voice, even when I’m dead fucking wrong. No one has ever cared about me that much, boyfriend or otherwise and I don’t give a damn if you sell drugs or blow up buildings. A man who’d do all of that for me and never asks for anything in return is exactly who I want.”
plug!sukuna found himself dumbstruck for the first time in a long time..standing there with your small hand cradling his chiseled jaw, tears streaming down your face, he’d find that his own eyes were welling and burning. He’d never heard anyone speak about him in such a way. “Damn, I guess you can read me like a book.” Hell, he’d never acted that way with anyone else either. Yet here he was, treating you like a princess. He couldn’t pretend anymore..he had to be honest with you..and himself.
“I—I love you too, (y/n). So much..”
“Then make me yours. Right now..right here.”
“you know once we do this, we can’t go back..”
“Please..leaving the past behind is kind of my thing.”
it didn’t take long for your lips to meet in a fiery haze, tongues intertwined in a moment of heated bliss. Your hands roaming one another’s bodies as moans slipped through..your clothes all but becoming discarded heaps on the living room floor like a movie scene cliche. His lips traced from your neck to your collarbone; slightly dredging his teeth along the skin in the process.
“Here, baby..take my hand.” plug!sukuna, in one fell swoop hoisted you into his arms as if you weighed practically next to nothing. Continuing to feed you those slow kisses, he’d carry you to a nearby wall and part your thighs. With your legs resting on his shoulders, he’d mark every inch of you. From your sensitive nipples which he cradled in his mouth to that pudgy tummy he loved so much to that juicy center, which was practically leaking for him.
“This all me? Just from some kissing?..” “This is nothing. I touch myself every night thinking about you..you should see the mess I make then.” plug!sukuna could barely sate his urges now, hearing how nasty this supposedly innocent girl was for him! He wasted no time slithering his tongue into that aching cunt. Swirling it around on that throbbing clit, spitting into those pretty pink folds and those succulent brown lips encasing them. He feasted like a man unhinged; greedy and selfish as fuck, just like he claimed. You’d grasp a hold of those dark reddish and black locks, grinding yourself into his face. Rubbing his nose in between your slit.
“Mmmph! Ryo…” “Yeah, fuck my face. Don’t hold back now. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do this.”
plug!sukuna would eat your pussy until he heard you sobbing and felt that orgasm come barreling out. Your tight hole spasming on air as those juices trickled down his throat, chest and mouth. He couldn’t help but to laugh as he watched you writhe in pleasure. Attempting to push him away as you rode out that orgasm.
“Wha—how did you?—“ “What? I told you..I’ve had a lot of practice.” Choosing to omit the fact that he’d fantasized about you sitting on his face more times than he could count. Tossing you a wink and one final lick before carting you over to the sofa. Where he laid you down gently against the cushions…pinning those legs back whilst hovering over you. The entire time, he couldn’t take his gaze away from those gorgeous eyes..they glimmered so bright. Full of lust, adoration and excitement. No matter how much you smiled, he always sensed a certain emptiness behind them. A light stolen from you and now, he hoped to reignite it.
observing your movements, plug!sukuna began to chuckle when he saw you pawing at his crotch. So eager to unsheathe that hard on from his boxers. He could tell that the shy, bashful demeanor you presented was only a front. If given the opportunity, he could turn you into his personal slut with ease..but for now, he wanted to focus solely on making love to you. Giving you every part of him that he’d long to for months now. You’d examine his chiseled torso, reaching up to caress his abs and trace your fingertips along his various tattoos. But you couldn’t distract yourself from how large that bulge was..protruding and leaking with precum…
“Can I?—“ Go ahead, baby..take it out.” And without hesitation, you’d tug that elastic waistband back and let it spring forth. He was so girthy and long. Clean shaven and although he was erect now, you could tell he was huge even when flaccid. Nonetheless, plug!sukuna grasped those thick thighs of yours and mounted in between them; gliding that aching tip along your folds. ”Now you tell me if it hurts, okay baby? If I see you flinch or look uncomfortable, I’m pulling the fuck out. We clear?” And you knew when he spoke, that was law. Nodding in agreement, you’d consent to his terms as you rubbed your folds, waiting for him.
“Good..and tap my arm if you can’t talk. I’m ‘bout to start moving. You ready?” with your permission, he’d glide in slowly and immediately, he thought he’d seen stars! Plug!sukuna, by his own volition, had been with countless girls. From strippers to models, but never had he felt pussy this tight! The warmth immediately cradling him and not letting go. He’d suck his teeth before muttering a single ‘fuck’ under his breath. You were going to be some pressure, he was certain of it. But he’d continue on, gathering his footing and working that cock into your entrance. A single pop, along with wet, squishing sounds rang out across that living room as you lie underneath him.
“Goddamn…your shit feels incredible, baby. I know you had some good pussy..I can tell just by looking at you.” Forcing a wide, toothy smile on your face. You’d never heard him talk so vulgar but it was the side you’d brought out. He was officially obsessed!
“Yeah? Well I’ve been wanting to give it to for so long..I never thought you’d fuck me..”
“I kept you waiting, huh? I’m sorry..guess it just means we gotta make up for lost time then, huh?”
plug!sukuna was thrilled to know that he’d no longer have to hold back because you were on the same wavelength. You’d have no issues matching his energy..so with that, he’d speed up those thrusts. Pounding you with gentle but well paced strokes. The sound of your thighs and skin slamming together, coupled with the sounds of both your moans, made for a beautiful chorus. Your hands around his neck, scratching at his back; legs around his waist and his muscular arms planted right at your sides. Drilling you just as you’d requested and there was no limits between the two of you.
“Yes! Keep fucking meeee..oh my goodness. I’m gonna come again!”
“You’re so fucking cute..damn..” adoring how you sounded squealing and laughing as you met his thrusts. He couldn’t believe how receptive you were and how it took no time at all for you to open up.
“And you look so pretty taking all this dick for daddy. I can’t stop staring at you.” That deep voice showering you with praise as his thick cock thrashed around your insides. Even though you had always been a bigger girl, he made you feel so dainty and small..like a precious treasure he never wanted to lose. “You deserve this, baby..to get fucked just like this. To be spoiled and get whatever you want. I can put you up..you ain’t ever gotta worry about shit. Not a bill, not rent, your family..I got you, baby. I promise. I love you..” You believed every single word and clung to them with every fiber you had. You’d never had anyone treat you with such grace and care before..and that wasn’t the end. He’d continue doting. Telling you how proud he was of you and how far you'd come. How he admired your strength to get out of your situation…he was in awe. plug!sukuna would continue singing your praises until he looked up and spotted tears coming down your face. He was tempted to stop until you told him that you were just fine. He on the other hand..was struggling to maintain his stamina.
“No no..please don’t stop. You just make me feel so good. No one has ever fucked me like this.”
but that alone seemed to ignite a second wind and in a moment of haste, you’d find yourself flipped over into your stomach with his entire body weight shifted on top of you.
“You mean that, baby?” Those outer fangs of his teeth glistening and mouth slicked with saliva as he began pounding you once more..hands pinned to your back and his frame covering your own. The plumpness of that ass ricocheting off of him as he penetrated those walls. You’d come once again, dripping onto the leather couch and making that aforementioned mess he’d been dying to see. This time, his pace was rougher..less structured and sporadic. He couldn’t help it..he was running on pure fumes, trying to give you the first time experience you deserved. Tugging your head back by those thick curls, plug!sukuna fed you the deeper strokes he could muster until those chocolate eyes rolled back.
“Y-yes! This dick is amazing..”
“Tell me who it belongs to. Who’s this good pussy belong to now?”
“Y-you, daddy. It’s yours! Oh fuck..”
never having uttered such lewd words in your entire life, you reveled in the fact that he had been the one to bring this side out. And now, you were about to bring a side out of him. One far more vulnerable than the public witnessed..one that would beg you to let him come inside of you and cry out your name in sweet ecstasy as he did so. You’d feel those warm seeds pouring into your womb as he came to a halt and you welcomed them. plug!sukuna didn’t hesitate to swaddle you in his arms for kisses and comfort.
“I don’t want this to end..tell me it doesn’t have to, Ryo. Can we be this way forever?”
“We can stay like this for as long as you want, baby. I’m not going anywhere.“
and it was a promise he intended to keep. Not just as your neighbor or the guy next door looking over you. But now, as your lover and the man who’d never leave your side.
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stylesispunk · 2 months ago
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"Blind Faith" | part i
Priest!Joel Miller x nightclub dancer!reader
masterlist | next chapter
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summary: Running away from your home, you found a small town to stay. Once there, you met people and the priest, Joel.
wc: 5,2 k
warnings: age gap (Joel is in his late 40s, reader in her late 20s), religious conflict, a crisis of faith, temptation, forbidden attraction, forbidden romance, eventual smut, social expectations, nightlife themes, the contrast between joel's and your world, protests, mentions of exile, mention of politics. For clarification, reader is Latina on this one.
a/n: Hello. I wanted this story to be something beyond a forbidden romance between two people, after reading books and watching things I wanted to recall that reader's background comes from her being an activist. I want to approach all the topics with all due respect and I hope you do too, nevertheless, those are not going to be the main center of the story.
Happy reading and please tell me what are your thoughts about this one.
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You had built a life most people only dreamed of. A life filled with passion, purpose, and the kind of joy that comes from doing what you love. You were surrounded by friends who understood you, a family you cherished with every fiber of your being, and a career that made waking up every morning feel like stepping into a dream.
You had studied dance at university, dedicating years to perfecting your craft until movement became your language, your art, your very identity. But you didn’t see yourself just as an artist, you were educated. You had spent your life asking questions, seeking answers, and standing for what was right. Politics fascinated you, not as a distant game played by men in suits, but as something alive, something that shaped the world around you. You were drawn to justice, to fairness, to the fight for those whose voices were drowned out by oppression.
Protests became as much a part of your life as well as performances. You had stood in the streets, chanting until your voice was hoarse, raising signs, raising awareness, raising hell when it was necessary. You believed in change, in the power of people united. But belief alone was never enough to stop what came next.
The illusion of safety shattered the moment power fell into the wrong hands. The men who took control of your country did not tolerate opposition. They did not welcome free thought or voices that questioned their authority. People like you, the educated, the artists, the teachers, all who had seek justice, were dangerous but because you couldn’t be controlled. Because you saw through their lies.
You remember the night your world collapsed. The hurried whispers in the dark. The fear in your mother’s eyes. The way your brother’s hands shook as he cut your hair, disguising you in a desperate attempt to buy you time.  
He drove you to the airport as your heart pounded, then, you boarded that plane, leaving behind everything you had ever known. Your home. Your family. The life you had built.
And that is why you ended up here, in a bus driving to a foreign city located in California. The bus rattled as it rolled into town, the low hum of the engine filling the silence of the nearly empty cabin. You sat near the window, watching the Californian sun stretch across the dry fields, golden and endless, nothing like the dense, humid air of home.
 Home.
The word sat heavy in your chest, a place you could no longer name without feeling the weight of exile pressing against your ribs.
This town was small, quieter than you expected, but that was good. You needed a quiet, a place to disappear, to become no one, to not be recognized. You stepped off the bus with only a battered leather suitcase and a name written on a slip of paper.
The paradise, a nightclub where a friend of a friend had said you might find work.
You pulled your coat tighter around you, though the air was warm. You must have learned to move carefully, to keep your eyes down, to not be recognized. But you couldn't help glancing up at the church as you stepped off the bus.  
That’s when you saw him.
He was standing on the steps, speaking to a woman holding a little baby in her arms. There was, a priest, dressed in black, with tired eyes and a kindness in the way he bent his head to listen. He looked up, meeting your gaze for the first, just for a fleeting second. Then, his gaze left your eyes, leaving you with a weird feeling, warmth rising up to your cheeks.
You pulled the slip of paper from your pocket, staring at the name scrawled in fading ink staring at the name scrawled in fading ink. The paradise.  
When you lifted your gaze again, the priest wasn't there anymore.
You sighed and adjusted the trap of your suitcase over your shoulder, feeling anxious creeping upon your skin as you try to picture your life in a foreign place.
You looked towards the church in the front of the street, where the priest had stood minutes before, perhaps trying to look and answer to your questions. You weren't a religious person, but you did believe in calls, and you felt the pulling thread forcing you to walk towards the church, as if something were calling you, perhaps someone.
Your feet found their way to the old church at the edge of town, its stone walls worn and cracked from years of standing against the wind. It loomed tall and hollow, the kind of place that had seen more sorrow than joy. You hesitated at the entrance, your heart beating faster than you liked.
Why am I even here? you thought. But the pull wouldn’t let you turn away.
You stepped inside.
The stained glass cast soft, fractured colors onto the worn wooden pews, painting the empty space in hues of crimson, gold, and deep blue. The scent of burning wax and old books filled your senses, grounding you in a place that felt both foreign and strangely familiar.
Your footsteps echoed as you moved deeper inside, the vast silence of the church swallowing every sound. You weren’t sure what you were looking for, an answer, a sign, something to tell you that coming here wasn’t a mistake.
The priest where nowhere to be found, so you took seat in one of the wooden benches, perhaps waiting, perhaps resting.
You got yourself comfortable, the sleep catching upon you. Your body felt heavy, exhaustion creeping into your bones the moment you allowed yourself to rest. The weight of the suitcase by your side, the long journey that had brought you here, it all pressed down on you at once. The church, with its quiet stillness, felt like the safest place you’d been in weeks.
That was where Joel Miller found you.
On a quiet evening when the chapel was empty, save for the flickering candlelight and the faint scent of incense clinging to the air. You were curled up on one of the wooden pews, arms folded beneath your head, chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of sleep.
He cleared his throat, but you didn’t stir. He hesitated before reaching out, tapping your shoulder. “Miss?” His voice came softer than he expected. “You can’t sleep here.”
"Father, do you always wake up strangers like this?"
Your voice was thick with sleep, eyes blinking against the dim glow of the chapel’s candlelight. The air smelled of old wood, wax, and something faintly metallic, like rain on stone. You looked young like this, your face soft, but Joel knew better. You shouldn't be older than thirty.
"You can’t sleep here," he repeated.
You smirked, rubbing your eyes. "Didn’t know God kicked people out."
Joel exhaled sharply. The world outside was changing, rock ‘n’ roll, free love, protests, women in miniskirts. But in this town, in this chapel, things were supposed to stay the same.
This town hadn’t met those changes.
Joel stood over you, stiff-backed, his fingers still hovering near your shoulder from where he’d tapped you awake. He shouldn’t have noticed the way your legs stretched across the pew, the way your blouse, too low-cut for a place like this, shifted as you moved, leaving no place to imagination.
Joel exhaled sharply. Lord, give me patience.
"This isn’t a shelter," he said. "If you need a place—"
"I'm not homeless" Your tone was firm and final, as if you were done, but there was something else in your voice too, something he couldn’t quite place, but it hinted sadness. "I just got into town," you admitted after a beat, glancing toward the stained-glass windows, dark now with the night. "Didn’t know where else to go. At least not tonight."
Joel studied you, his chest tightening."Are you in trouble?"
A small, humorless laugh left you. "Depends on what you call trouble."
Silence filled the chapel, thick and unmoving. The rain had stopped, leaving only the distant hum of the highway beyond the hills.
"You shouldn’t be here," he said finally. But his voice had lost its authority, had softened just enough that he felt the weight of it settle in his own bones.
“Why?” You asked
Joel exhaled slowly, shifting on his feet. He looked down at you, his expression unreadable, but there was something in the way his jaw tensed, something he was holding back.
"You can’t stay here," he said again, voice firm but not unkind.
You sat up properly this time, stretching your legs out in front of you, your boots scraping against the floor. His eyes flicked to them, brief, barely noticeable, you caught it, but you chose not to say anything.
"Didn’t mean to cause a problem," you said, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.
"You’re not a problem," he said, then hesitated. "But this isn’t a place for…"
You arched a brow. “For what? For a woman like me?”
For someone wearing boots and a blouse that clung a little too tight, a skirt that rode too high when you stretched out.
He didn’t utter that the sentence. Instead, he sighed, raking a hand through his hair.
"Where you planning on staying tonight?" he asked.
You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. "Haven’t figured that part out yet."
Joel frowned. "You got family here?"
"No father, I don’t."
"Friends?"
"No."
His gaze flickered, something unreadable passing through it. So, you’re alone.
You weren’t sure if that unsettled him or if it was something else.
He shifted again, exhaling through his nose like he was about to say something he’d regret.
"There’s a place near the church," he finally said. "A small guesthouse. Church used to use it for traveling pastors, but it’s empty now. You can stay there tonight."
You studied him. "Why?"
His brow furrowed. "What do you mean, why?"
"I mean, why help me? You don’t know me."
Joel was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was quieter. "That doesn’t mean I should turn you away."
You held his gaze, searching for something in it—hesitation, reluctance. But there was only conviction.
And yet you could feel something else there, buried beneath all that righteousness behind his clothes.
Something you hadn’t named yet.
"Alright, Father," you said finally, standing up. "Lead the way."
He hesitated, just for a second. Then, he turned, stepping toward the chapel doors, and you followed.
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Back at his house behind the church, Joel lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. The wooden beams above cast long shadows in the dim glow of the lamp beside his bed. He should’ve been sleeping, his body was tired enough for I, but his mind refused to settle. It was noisier than ever.
His thoughts kept drifting back to something else, to you. To the way you’d looked at him when you stood up from that pew, like you already knew he wasn’t as correct as he pretended to be.
To your voice, husky with sleep, the way you stretched without a care in the world. To your legs.
Joel shut his eyes. Lord, give me strength.
It had been a passing glance, barely a flicker of a thought, but now it gnawed at him.
He had seen a lot of things in his years as a priest. A lot of people in need, a lot of wandering souls. But he wasn’t blind. He could recognize beauty when it was right in front of him. And tonight, for the first time in a long time, it wasn’t just his faith speaking.
It was something else. It felt dangerous.
He turned onto his side, sighing through his nose. This was just another test. He’d seen men struggle with temptation, had guided them through it. This was no different.
You were just a woman in need. That’s all. That’s all.
And yet, sleep never came easy that night.
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The early sun cast long golden beams through the chapel windows as Joel made his way to the guesthouse. He carried a small plate of toast and eggs, as a gesture of hospitality. He thought about last night, on how he hadn’t offered food or a cup of tea.
He wanted to show kindness, but the second he stepped inside, he knew.
The bed was made, the blanket neatly folded. No sign of anyone.
And on the small wooden table by the window, a note.
Joel set the plate down and picked it up, his fingers tightening around the paper.
"Thank you for your help, Father."
That was it. No name, no explanation. Just a quiet departure, as if you’d never been there at all.
Joel exhaled slowly, staring at the empty room.
Something settled deep in his chest, something that felt too much like disappointment.
He was afraid of the fleeting feelings coming to him. Because last night, he’d told himself you were just passing through. But now, standing here, he wasn’t sure he believed it.
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You were strong and brave enough this day. When you found yourself in the front of the paradise, the neon light flickered weakly in the daylight, music pulsed behind the doors, muffled but steady, a heartbeat beneath the night.
You inhale deeply, pushing the door behind.
The club smelled of sweat, perfume, and cigarette smoke. It wasn’t alive as you expected to be during the day, but there were men in tight pants, women in flowing skirts, people who existed somewhere in between, all shining under the low, colored lights of the place.
This wasn’t the kind of stage you were used to. But it was something.
Behind the bar, a broad-shouldered man with a neatly trimmed beard was pouring whiskey into a glass, his gold rings catching the light. He spotted you instantly, eyes narrowing slightly before softening.
“You must be the new girl,” he said, voice thick with an accent she couldn’t place.
You hesitated for a moment, but then you nodded.
The man wiped his hands on a towel, then leaned over the counter, studying you.
“You dance?” He asked.
You lifted your chin. “Yes.”
He smirked. “We’ll see about that.”
A warm hand touched your back.
Your turned to find a woman at your side, tall, dark-skinned, with a shimmering dress that clung to her curves. Her lipstick was deep red, her eyes lined in black.
“Come on, cariño,” the woman purred. “Let’s get you ready.”
You swallowed, but you followed her backstage.
Backstage was a blur of colors, perfume, and laughter. The other dancers moved around you effortlessly, adjusting their costumes, fixing their makeup, teasing each other in rapid-fire whispers. You stood still, taking it all in. People here were wild, free and beautiful, and you smiled at that.
The woman who had led you back, Carmen, handed you a black slip dress. It was simple, barely more than a tiny thing of fabric, with thin straps that draped off your shoulders.
“You need shoes?” Carmen asked, watching as you slipped it over your head.
You shook your head “I’ll dance barefoot.”
Carmen raised a perfectly sculpted brow but didn’t argue. “Suit yourself.”
The music outside shifted, growing louder. Your stomach tightened.
You had danced for crowds a thousand times before, but never like this. This wasn’t a stage with velvet curtains, with polished floors and orchestrated movements. This was something raw and new for you, something meant to be felt rather than admired.
You exhaled slowly.
You’ve already lost everything. What’s left to be afraid of?
A hand touched your shoulder. She turned to find Carmen smiling. “You’re up next, estrella.”
The lights were dim when you stepped onto the small, elevated platform.
The club wasn’t packed, but there were enough people to make the air thick with murmurs and expectation. A few heads turned, eyes gliding over you as you took your place.
You closed your eyes.
The music started, a slow, sultry rhythm, deep bass vibrating through your bones.
And then you moved. At first, it was instinct. The slow bend of your knees, the gentle sway of your hips. You let the music guide you, feeling it the way you once had in the studio, back when you were still the dancer, before you became the fugitive.
Your arms lifted, fluid and controlled, your body following in careful, deliberate motions.
And then you forgot to be careful. You turned, arching into a spin, the hem of your dress fluttering around your thighs. You let your feet move the way they had been trained to—pointed toes, precise steps, every motion a whisper of the ballerina you once were.
A gasp rippled through the crowd.
Someone murmured, “Mierda… she can dance.”
You barely heard them. For the first time in months, you felt like yourself again. Not a girl running, not a girl hiding, but a girl who had been born to dance.
You let yourself go. By the time the music ended, a hush had fallen over the club.
And then—applause. You stood there, breathing hard, your skin glowing under the soft red lights.
When you stepped down from the platform, Carmen was waiting, grinning.
“Dios mío,” she said, shaking her head. “Where the hell did you come from?”
You just smiled. You didn’t have an answer for that. But for the first time since you had arrived, you felt like you had found a piece of home to stay in.
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The night air was warmer as you made your way back to the church, the scent of warm pastries wrapped in cloth filling your hands. The applause from the club still echoed in your ears, the feeling of movement still lingering in your limbs. You felt light. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt less lonely.
You paused at the entrance, looking up at the towering stone structure, its stained glass barely illuminated by the sunlight. The contrast was almost laughable.
The dancer and the priest. A contradiction in itself.
With a breath, you stepped inside.
He was there, seated at one of the pews, his back turned to you. His posture was stiff, as if he’d been deep in thought, or perhaps in prayer.
“Father.”
He turned sharply at your voice, his dark eyes immediately landing on you. For a moment, he said nothing, just studying you as if trying to figure out why you had come back.
You held up the bundle in your hands. “I brought you something.”
His gaze flickered to the wrapped pastries before settling back on your face. Slowly, he stood, walking toward you with careful, deliberate steps. When he got close, the faint scent of smoke and candle wax clung to him.
“You didn’t have to,” he muttered, but he still took them from you. His fingers brushed yours briefly, warm, rough, calloused. The hands of a man who had worked long before he had ever been a priest.
You shrugged. “It’s a thank-you. For helping me yesterday.”
He watched you for a beat before nodding. “Did you find a place to stay?”
“I did.”
He didn’t ask where. He just looked at you, waiting. Maybe he wanted to know. Maybe he already had an idea.
You weren’t going to tell him either.  Instead, you smiled. “Don’t eat them all at once, Father.”
Joel’s eyes flickered down, lingering for a second longer than they should have. You noticed.
It was brief, so brief you might have convinced yourself you imagined it. But you didn’t. His gaze had traced over the curve of your waist, the way the fabric of your blouse rested against your skin, the gentle swell of your collarbones. The flicker of something unreadable in his expression disappeared just as quickly as it had come.
He cleared his throat, shifting his weight. “Do you—” He hesitated. “Would you like to talk?”
You raised a brow. “Talk?”
He nodded, tilting his head toward one of the wooden pews. “If you want.”
A small part of you wanted to tease him, ask if priests usually invited strange women to talk in dimly lit churches. But you swallowed the thought.
Instead, you sighed, walking past him and settling onto the worn wooden bench. You crossed one leg over the other, tapping your fingers idly on the surface. Joel sat beside you, close, but not too close.
The silence stretched between you, heavy but not uncomfortable.
“Is this the part where I have to confess my sins?” you asked, breaking the quiet.
Joel exhaled through his nose, almost like a quiet laugh. “Only if you want to.”
You studied him for a moment. The way his hands rested on his lap; fingers curled slightly as if he wasn’t quite at ease. The tension in his shoulders, the quiet restraint in his posture.
You tilted your head. “What about you, Father?”
His gaze lifted to meet yours.
“What do you believe in?” you asked.
Joel didn’t answer. His jaw clenched, something shifting in his expression. He looked away, staring at the rows of empty pews, at the altar beyond. Instead, he let out a slow breath, his fingers drumming idly against his knee. Then, without looking at you, he asked, “Why’d you come here?”
You blinked at him. “Here? To the church?”
He nodded. “Last night”
You considered lying. It would be easier. But something about the way he was looking at the altar, like it held answers he wasn’t sure he wanted, made you tell the truth.
“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I just… felt like I had to. Like, something just called me, you know?”
His gaze flicked to you then, studying, searching. “You’re not religious.” It wasn’t a question.
You smirked. “Is it that obvious?”
Joel didn’t return the smile. He just kept watching you, unreadable. “Then what are you looking for?”
That was a harder question. Peace? A sense of belonging? A place to rest? You weren’t sure.
You hesitated, then shrugged. “Something different. A fresh start.”
Joel hummed, thoughtful. He leaned back slightly, stretching his legs out in front of him. “And you think you’ll find that here?”
You sighed, tilting your head toward him. “What’s with the interrogation, Father? Trying to save my soul?”
This time, he did smile. Barely. Just a flicker of amusement in his expression. “I think your soul is doing just fine on its own.”
That shouldn’t have made your heart stutter the way it did.
Joel shifted, bracing his elbows on his knees. His voice was quieter when he spoke again. “You got people looking for you?”
Your breath caught. There it was. The question you’d been dreading.
You glanced away, suddenly very interested in the cracks in the wooden pew beneath you. “No,” you said eventually. “No one’s looking.”
Joel didn’t press. He just nodded slowly, like he had believed you.
For a while, neither of you spoke. The church was silent except for the occasional creak of wood settling, the distant sound of footsteps from somewhere outside.
Then Joel inhaled, shifting beside you. “You should be careful.”
You turned to him, frowning. “Why?”
His jaw tightened. He hesitated, then sighed. “This town—it’s small. People notice things.”
Your chest tightened, but you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral. “And what have they noticed about me?”
Joel didn’t answer right away. His gaze dropped to your hands resting in your lap, then back up to your face.
“Nothing,” he said finally. “Yet.”
The word lingered between you, heavier than the silence that followed.
“What about?” you asked, “What do you notice about me?”
Joel didn’t answer at first. He just looked at you, eyes unreadable, something working behind them, something you couldn’t quite place.
You held his gaze, waiting, heartbeat steady but slow.
Then, he exhaled through his nose, tilting his head slightly. “I noticed you don’t like talking about yourself.”
Your lips quirked. “Maybe I just don’t like talking to priests.”
That got the barest huff of amusement from him. “Could be.” His fingers tapped lightly against his knee before he added, “But I think it’s more than that.”
You arched a brow. “Oh?”
Joel nodded, his voice quieter when he spoke again. “I think you’ve been running from something”
That made your stomach tighten.
Your first instinct was to deny it, to smirk, roll your eyes, brush it off like he was just another man who thought he had you figured out. But Joel wasn’t just another man. And the way he was looking at you, like he could see past whatever mask you were wearing, made it harder to lie.
Your fingers curled slightly against your lap. “And what makes you think that?”
Joel leaned back slightly, stretching one arm along the pew. His eyes didn’t leave yours. “The way you don’t settle,” he said simply. “Not even when you’re sitting still.”
The words sent something sharp through your chest.
You swallowed, looking away, suddenly feeling too seen, too exposed. “Maybe I just don’t like these wooden benches.”
Joel hummed, like he wasn’t convinced. But he didn’t push, instead he smiled at you.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The dim glow of candlelight flickered against the stone walls, casting long shadows across the empty church.
Then, finally, Joel shifted beside you. “Did you eat?”
The abrupt change caught you off guard. You blinked, glancing at him. “What?”
His expression was unreadable again, but his voice was casual when he repeated, “Did you eat?”
You frowned. “Why?”
Joel sighed, shaking his head. “Because if you haven’t, I got food in the back.”
You tilted your head, a small smirk playing at your lips. “Are you asking me if I want to eat these pastries with you, Father?”
Joel huffed, shaking his head as he glanced down at the bag of pastries still resting between you. “You brought them” he said gruffly. “Seems only fair.”
You pretended to consider it, tapping a finger against your knee. “Well, I supposed I must take you for a man who shares.”
He shot you a look, one that might’ve been stern if not for the flicker of something else in his eyes. Amusement, maybe. Or something deeper, something you weren’t ready to name.
“Don’t make me take it back,” he muttered.
You bit back a grin, shrugging as you reached for the bag. “Well, if you insist.”
Joel stood, nodding his head toward the back of the church. “Come on. I’m not going sit out here and eat in the dark like some kind of—” he gestured vaguely before shaking his head. “Just come on.”
You followed, the sound of your footsteps echoing against the stone floors. The air was warmer in the back rooms, less hollow than the empty church.
Joel pulled out a chair for you at a small wooden table, and you sat, watching as he grabbed a couple of plates and a knife.
“Tea?” he asked.
You arched a brow. “Didn’t take you for a tea drinker.”
Joel shot you another look. “Or coffee. Pick one.”
You hummed, pretending to consider. “Tea.”
He nodded, setting a teapot on the stove before sitting across from you. The candlelight flickered between you, soft and warm.
You broke off a piece of pastry, popping it into your mouth. “Not bad,” you admitted.
Joel took a bite himself, chewing slowly. Then, he glanced at you,
You weren’t looking at him, too focused on the pastry in your hands, the way the flaky crust crumbled against your fingers. But he was looking at you.
He hadn’t meant to, not like this, not for this long. But there was something about the way you sat there, elbows on the table, the candlelight casting soft golden hues over your skin. Something about the curve of your lips as you chewed thoughtfully, the way your lashes lowered when you focused.
You were different. A fresh breath in a town that had long gone stale, where faces blurred together, where days passed without change. But you—
You weren’t part of this place. Not yet. And maybe that was what drew him in.
His gaze flickered lower, just for a second. The delicate slope of your collarbones, the soft neckline of your blouse that dipped just enough to hint at what lay beneath. He swallowed, jaw tensing, and forced himself to look away, to focus on something else, the flickering candle, the steam rising from the kettle.
“You’re quiet,” you murmured, your voice pulling him back.
Joel cleared his throat. “Just thinking.”
You tilted your head, studying him now, those sharp eyes of yours peeling away layers he hadn’t realized were there. “About what?”
He could’ve lied. Could’ve told you something simple, something easy.
Instead, he exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Nothing important.”
A small smile tugged at your lips. You didn’t push, just took another bite of pastry.
And Joel? Joel tried not to look at your lips when you did.
The teapot whistled, breaking the silence. Joel pushed back his chair, a little too fast, the legs scraping against the wooden floor. He muttered something under his breath, maybe a curse, maybe just an exhale—as he stood and turned toward the stove.
You watched him, chin resting in your hand, fingers tapping absently against your cheek.
He moved with quiet fast, pouring the hot water into two mismatched mugs, the steam curling up between you like an unspoken thought.
“Sugar?” he asked.
You hummed, pretending to think. “Do you have honey?”
Joel shot you a dry look but opened a small cupboard, rummaging until he found a half-used jar. He set it down in front of you, his fingers brushing the edge of your mug as he did.
You wrapped your hands around the warm ceramic, taking a slow sip.
Joel sat back down, quieter this time, his elbows resting on the worn wooden table.
You tilted your head. “So, do priests always offer tea and pastries to strangers passing by?”
A corner of his mouth twitched, almost a smile. “No.”
You raised a brow. “Just me, then?”
Joel held your gaze, something unreadable flickering in the depths of his brown eyes. Then he looked away, took a slow sip of his own tea.
“Yeah,” he said. “Just you.”
You set your cup down gently, the porcelain clinking softly against the table. "Thanks for being so kind to me." you said, your voice low, more than just for the tea and pastries. It was for the quiet, for the refuge, for something you couldn't quite explain.
Joel didn’t respond right away, but you saw the faintest shift in his posture, the tightness in his shoulders easing just a little. His eyes flickered back to yours, and there was something different about the way he looked at you now, less guarded, almost as if he’d let a small part of himself slip into the space between you.
He nodded, almost imperceptibly, then reached for the teapot, his fingers brushing the warm ceramic. "You don't have to thank me," he said quietly. "It's... it’s nothing."
But you both knew it wasn’t nothing. It never was.
Behind his intentions there was always kindness, but now something new flickered.
A temptation threatening his faith, like the world had set on fire the moment you glances met for the first time and he wanted the flames to catch him to be saved by you.
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norrissm · 23 days ago
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⌗ crawl home to her — ln4
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lando!friends to lovers headcanons. soft thoughts. work song by hozier. pretty boy by the neighbourhood. ★ LIBRARY
req. @lnfours ♡
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lando would scoff at fate and destiny. always gotten what he wanted.
blind enough to see, his prayers answered in front of him
since the karting days from 7, lando had seen you by his side. a small body by the sidelines cheering his name with a toothache inducing sweetness
you’d seen every version of him—the reckless kid who crashed his first kart, the teenager with too many doubts, the man who wears confidence like armour
never wavered in your belief in him
his world was stark against yours.
speed, wagering with death, flashes of lights, luxury and risk
you never asked him to slow down, be cautious
“come back home to me” was all you’d whisper under sheets as lando nodded in a drowsy whim.
he couldn’t bear a world without you
he never understood why, never questioned what pulled him home—to you, always to you—past the feisty women, the flashing cameras, the noise of the world.
there was no one sweeter than you
he had the sweetest of the lot
if he could, he’d die a happy man in your arms.
why? why’d he feel this way?
maybe love was stitched in the quiet spaces, in the unspoken actions, woven with a thread of red—strong, sturdy, unbreakable.
maybe, love, was him finding you slumped against the foot of his bed, a hand extending to his, in the hospital after a crash
maybe love was the way you defended him when the world turned cruel, standing in front of him like a shield—just you and lando, against everything.
maybe love was the unwavering faith you had in lando. in your eyes, he was the best and you said it like you meant it.
oh. oh, this is it. this is what love feels like.
a love like this shouldn’t be hidden.
he’d happily be a madman running through the streets confessing his love for you. chanting your name in a prayer, thanking the stars above, deeming him worthy of your love.
and when the soft glow of a lamp bathed you in golden light one evening, he swore he saw Aphrodite in your form—swore he had already found a home.
a confession only for your ears, too intimate to be stolen by anyone else
lando took in the moment, you were the only one he needed
your lips uttering the words which thawed lando’s stuttering heart and at that moment lando felt the synergy of your love.
with you, he could do anything
he was lucky indeed
lando believed in fate and destiny. gotten what he wanted.
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reblog and follow <3 all rights reserved ©️norrissm please do not copy, save, or translate my stories.
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phantomrose96 · 11 months ago
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Sham Sacrifice
(Hi it's time for my favorite headcanon)
...
Vlad Masters sat firm and proper on the Fenton Family couch, legs crossed, teacup pinched in his fingertips, fighting subtly against the sinkhole that came with the mistake of taking Jack’s usual spot on the couch. He appeared with all the same charm and delightfulness of an ant swarm rearranging your picnic.
Danny stood at the doorway, just-still-in-the-kitchen, just not inviting himself to join the adults in the living room where Jack boomed and rambled and Vlad sat so stiff and polite and nice that his tea in his hands was going cold.
“Oh, Danny you’ll love this story—Danny, you should join us—Danny this was, what, summer of ’84? When was that heatwave, Vladdy? The one where you—”
“There’s no need to bore Daniel with the mad ravings of two old kooks, Jack. Kids would rather be off at the mall or—some store, surely. No need to stick around Daniel on my behalf. I assure you I won’t be offended if you leave.”
“No worries, V-man. I’m good right here. I love hearing Dad’s stories." Danny met Vlad's challenge, speaking with more poisonous courtesy than Vlad had proffered first. "In fact I think he should tell a few more, if he’s got more in mind.”
“In fact I do have more in mind—” Jack answered.
Neither Danny nor Vlad were listening to Jack. They held eye-contact, Danny with a stern unblinkingness of a sheepdog on duty. A lot was said without words. A lot was understood when Vlad decided to visit through the front door. Vlad only used the front door when he wanted something.
And it was never good when Vlad wanted something.
“—the core reactor project, yeah? That summer? That was in the lab with no A/C. Top floor. We were sweating like pigs, all of us. And I dared you to eat the really moldy pizza from our fridge the night before and you ralphed right into—”
“—Surely you remember this more fondly than I do. Daniel, really, you can go.”
Not a chance.
“Actually,” Danny answered, brightening some as his opportunity struck. “I am interested in this. For science class I need to write a report on the invention of an important piece of technology. I was gonna ask Mom and Dad about the Ghost Portal. And now that you’re here, I can get the whole history.”
Jack made a giddy little noise. He leaned forward, words primed, but Vlad was quicker to the draw.
“Sorry to say, your faith in me is unfounded. I wasn’t the portal guy back in college—that was always your mother and father’s passion project. I was their skeptic.”
“Bet that’s got you feeling pretty foolish right now, doesn’t it V-man?” Jack chided, a quick jab to Vlad’s ribs that nearly unseated the teacup from his suspended saucer. “Considering the fully-functioning portal right beneath our toes.”
“I hardly feel foolish, Jack. Your calculation for the portal in college was never going to work.”
“What do you mean? Of course it did.” Jack thumped the ground with his foot. “It’s running the old girl right now.”
At this, Vlad’s eyes narrowed. For the first time he’d been shaken off whatever skeezy machinations had brought him in. His pride was being challenged, and by Jack no less.
“Absolutely not. With that calculation? Absolutely not.”
“Well forget the tea biscuits Vlad, because you’re going to be eating your words in a second. Mads, hold my spot,” Jack said, as if anyone was planning to take his spot. He bounced from the couch, scooted from the living room, and vanished into the dark maw of the lab stairs, leaving only the waning beat of his footsteps behind.
His absence filled only a swallowing few seconds. The footsteps returned, bounding upward, creaking with his heavy cadence, and Jack bounced back into the room in much the manner he left. A pad of yellow lined paper was clutched in his hand. When he dropped it on the coffee table, it revealed row after row of tight scribble, churning math, carrying down the page and occupying two entire pages more that Jack flipped through.
“Same baby I came up with in college. It just needed heavier dampening and higher voltage than what we made back then. The portal downstairs has that in spades. Well, in like two-thirds of a spade.” Jack tapped something on the last line. “The projection was still only hitting 70% of the threshold we calculated to reach dimension penetration. But it’s an art, not just a science. We fired it up anyway, and it took!”
Vlad grabbed the paper pad, agitated. His eyes ran over it. Then again. Until he settled on one line, a firmness overcoming his face. He tossed the pad back onto the coffee table, and Vlad leaned back into the couch, arms crossed.
“The lambda, Jack.”
“The lambda?”
“Check it again.”
Jack did, lips pursed, pad of paper nearly swallowed in his big meaty hand.
“What about--?”
“It squares. The units don’t balance otherwise. It originates from an integration step of λ*∂λ/∂t. It squares.”
Jack’s brow remained furrowed, firm, until delight cracked into his eyes, and he let out a laugh.
“Gods, my handwriting is gonna be the death of us. Mads,” he tapped something unseen on the second page. “That’s the genius of Vladdy. Cracked this puppy wide open with just a glance. I never noticed that in all my checking. That explains the missing 30%, at least. That explains how the portal took. Lucky for you Danny that Vlad was here—”
“Jack,” Maddie said.
“—your report can have the correct formula. It’ll be—”
“—Jack—”
“—A+ worthy—”
“—Jack,” Maddie said, curt. “Lambda is the ambient ecto-energy. It’s a few ten-thousandths of a unit.”
“It—huh.”
Maddie had surfaced a pen from her pocket. She sheared a few blank pages out from the back of the pad and started the formula fresh. She made quick work of copying it over, quicker work of solving it through – lambda-squared intact.
She hit the final line and hatched a pen mark beneath the number. Jack stared, confused.
“That can’t… no.”
He repeated the same. New pages torn loose. Formula copied over, processed, line by line by line—lambda squared—by line by line by line.
Jack settled on his answer. Same as Maddie’s.
Confusion made his face tense.
“So it’s not 70% of the way to the threshold… It’s 0.013% of the way to the threshold.”
He held the pen hard, his whole body holding firm and taut as the gears turned in his head. Jack’s eyes flickered across the formula, again and again and again. He looked to Maddie, like a dog issued a command he did not understand.
“But it worked,” he said, small. “But it worked.”
Jack stood, robotic almost, eyes lost in something far away. He disappeared into the lab almost as quickly as he had a few minutes before, but now he exited with a smoothness and a quietness so very uncharacteristic of him. It bothered Danny, somewhere deep in his gut.
Maddie followed, a possession matching Jack’s.
Danny’s fingers curled and uncurled. He’d succeeded. He’s successfully interrupted Vlad’s… whatever this was. But the disquiet infected him. He didn’t like it.
“So what does that mean?” Danny asked, perhaps to Vlad. “What’s wrong with the calculation?”
Vlad sipped on tea ice cold.
“Who knows?” Vlad lied.
The math didn’t work.
Maddie and Jack burned through paper, burned through pencils, burned through hours.
The math didn’t work.
Clothes stuck to skin. Sweat lingered fetid and stale in the cold basement air. Exhaustion beat like a slurry through their veins.
The math didn’t work.
The portal supervised all, placidly green, the light for their table, the light for their work when the lightbulb overhead burnt clean out and neither Jack nor Maddie could be pulled away to replace it. It stood, it watched, a testament of contradiction to everything they could not solve on paper, and yet everything they built directly into the fabric of reality.
And it should never have worked.
They threw every radical what-if they’d ever conceived over 20 years of ghost research.
The ecto-ether layer.
The latent activation stitches in space fabric.
The anti-ectomatter collision proposal.
The positive-feedback crystallization theory.
And still nothing worked.
All together, every crackpot theory in their favor taken for granted, racked them up to an activation energy 200x more potent than the calculation, and still just 2% of what would be needed to rip open, and hold open, a stable fissure between their reality and the ghost zone.
Maybe by pure luck, unfathomable luck, Fentonworks basement was directly situated atop a natural portal.
Maybe that would explain ripping it open. It did nothing to explain the stability. Natural portals were unstable by definition. There and gone in a few seconds. Not hours, days, weeks, months, a year, that the Fenton Portal had been open. Never so much as faltering.
It was late. 3am ticked away to 4am, and 4:30am. The discarded paper stacked higher than Jack and Maddie both. Calluses oozed from their hands at another attempt, and another, and another.
Maddie flipped through a folder’s worth of yellowed papers, aggressively thumbed over and over after two decades left untouched. And she settled on the one she’d passed over a few dozen times already, always seeking something else, something better.
This time she unsheathed it, and she placed it on the lab table.
“…If a mouse died. In the machine. If a mouse ran through the machine and accidentally bridged two live wires, and died of violent electrocution. 500 milliamps. Instantly melted into the circuitry.”
Maddie’s mouth was cotton-dry while she wrote. Ambient ecto-energy was low. Always very, very low.
Unless something very, very bad happened to something with the capacity to become a ghost.
The numbers wove. Maddie started the formula fresh, and it was pure muscle memory. A mouse. A big mouse, even. A 99th percentile beast of a mouse. And a wire that had been wired incorrectly. Something grounded that never actually grounded. An absolutely horrific amount of electricity.
0.37%, by pure numbers. If she included every permissive crackpot idea they had thrown on top, it topped out at 6% of the needed activation threshold.
Not a mouse.
“A cat,” Jack said, words gummy, tongue dry, face tired. “If we’ve got mice down here, maybe… a stray cat wandered in. Chased the mouse.”
Maddie nodded. It didn’t matter if it made sense.
She penned it in. A large cat. A devastating electrical short. Cats carried more ecto-potential than mice did. Ecto-potential did not necessarily go up with size. It went up with complexity. The things with the most ecto-potential were the things that most became ghosts.
1.45%, by pure numbers. 18% at absolute, absolute crackpot best.
“A dog,” Jack proposed with a shaky laugh. He swallowed. “A mouse… chased by a cat… chased by a dog… all electrocuted at once”
Maddie didn’t say the thing they both knew, which was that both of them would have noticed the evidence left behind by the electrically exploded pieces of a dog.
Maddie did it anyway. A mouse and a cat and a medium-sized dog, maybe just small enough to notice no evidence of, all together. All at once. All violently ripped apart, sacrificed to a machine still asleep in its wall.
Mice did not often make ghosts. Cats did not either. Dogs, occasionally. But infrequently. Very infrequently.
37%. At best.
“Jack.”
“Maddie, I know just—maybe something really smart—”
“—Jack—”
“—like an octopus—”
“Jack.”
“I hear, maybe, pigs are smart. If it was—”
Maddie was writing, already. Not for a pig. Not an octopus. Jack watched, and he knew what the numbers meant. The ecto-potential she penned gave her away. An ecto-potential that high.
65kg, an estimate
10,000 milliamps, a catastrophic accident, a death certificate.
A human’s amount of ecto-potential.
Maddie wrote.
And she wrote.
And she did not apply a single crackpot theory, not a single discredited proposal, not an ounce of exaggeration.
138%.
Threshold, and then some.
Comfortable, easily, then some.
For the first time, after all the hundreds of times she and Jack had penned this equation over the course of 2 decades, the number met her and Jack’s threshold.
A breakthrough.
A revelation.
A pure eureka moment.
Jack and Maddie were silent.
Alone in a humming basement. Alone with only the soft swirls of the portal for company, happy, stable, purring its contentment, singing to the cold air.
“It has to be something else,” Maddie said. And she said it weakly. And she said it childishly.
“You’re right. It can’t be this,” Jack echoed. “If someone died down here, we’d know. Dead bodies don’t walk away. We’d have seen it. O-or even if, if the body got stuck in the portal, we’d have heard of someone going missing.”
Maddie sat, quiet. A thought held her mind hostage.
“Unless they didn’t go missing,” Maddie said, and she said it barely audibly. “Unless the portal spit them right back out.”
“Then—that’s what I said—a dead body, on the floor, we’d have seen.”
“Not a dead body.”
“It had to be lethal, Mads—”
“I know Jack. But if they died, here, in the portal Jack, then their ghost did not get ripped away from the body and sent to the Ghost Zone. …They ripped the Ghost Zone here.” Palms slick with sweat smoothed over her notes. She pointed to one specific line and found her pen tip trembled no matter how badly she stabilized it. “The ecto-potential of a creature is how strong of a pull their ghost creates on the Ghost Zone. A strong enough pull means the ghost can reach the Ghost Zone and stabilize, like a fish reeling itself up, yeah? We agree on this Jack, yes?”
“Yes,” Jack answered.
“It’s what makes the math even work, Jack. Someone dying in the portal didn’t reel themselves to the boat. They reeled the boat in. Jack, they brought the Ghost Zone here…” Maddie wasn’t breathing right. She pulled sweat-soaked bangs away from her face. “Their ghost never left their body Jack. They died, Jack. And they walked back out.”
“…No. No,” Jack said. “No, they didn’t.”
“Then what?” Maddie asked.
Jack stared. He looked away. He didn’t like the expression on Maddie’s face.
“It—what about the ecto-ether theory?” Jack said, of the theory they’d tested and retested and tested all over, all night. He grabbed his pencil back up and pointed it aimlessly at Maddie’s piece of paper, pointed end out in self-defense. “If the ecto-ether is maybe… if it’s only 250-times stronger than we calculated. Then it could…”
Jack’s voice died. His pencil hung idle. Maddie’s paper remained unblemished.
“If it… was a pig,” Jack offered. “If it was a pig that died in the portal.”
“How, Jack? How would a pig get in? We lock all the doors at night, Jack. No one else can get in, Jack. It’s just us, Jack.”
Jack and Maddie were not there when the portal turned on.
Maddie’s statement carried two possibilities. Only two. Both felt like claws digging all the flesh right out of Jack’s heart.
“I want… I want to try the ecto-ether theory again,” Jack choked. “I think it’s the ecto-ether. I think it’ll work.”
Jack slid a piece of paper over, already covered in scribbles. In its single untouched corner, he started the equation for the several-thousandth time that night.
Above their head, birds were singing.
Sunrise hailed unseen from the windowless laboratory.
At 6am, Vlad answered his cell phone. The reception crackled, struggling through the layers of sheetrock above his head.
“Vlad?” Maddie’s voice crackled. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”
“Not at all my dear.” Vlad leaned his weight against the wall, playing with the singsong melody in his voice. “But you sound exhausted. Is anything the matter?”
“Yes. Well… Yes. Jack and I have—all night—trying to fix the equation.”
“Naturally.”
“We found something that maybe works.”
“Oh?” Vlad asked. He straightened, pacing now, cracklingly attentive. “And what might that—”
“If someone died. Activating the portal. We have an on-switch inside the portal’s interior. The trigger we use to press it is external to the portal, of course. But if someone went inside the portal, and they pressed it directly, and if they died, and pulled the Ghost Zone here—”
Vlad’s red eyes reflected pools of iridescent green. He twirled his free hand in the fringes of his cape, tongue working over the fanged edges of his teeth. He stared, consumed, forward.
“—and just, you, I was thinking, you’re the only other expert I’d trust to… maybe weigh in.”
“What does Jack think?”
“He denies it. He’s still. He’s trying other theories.”
“Well who knows, surely? The answer may lie somewhere you haven’t looked.”
“…I’ve looked everywhere, Vlad. That's the thing. There is no more ‘somewhere else’. I’ve looked.”
“You sound like your mind is made up.”
“I just… if maybe you have some idea.”
“Am I meant to talk you out of this idea?”
“Vlad.”
“Do you think I have some secret information you don’t? Sorry to say, I’m just your skeptic.” Some noise came through muffled from the other side. Vlad flashed a smile. “But…as your skeptic I will offer you this—It all sounds a bit absurd, doesn’t it? To kill someone and have them come back intact and… for you to never notice? Who would they be? How would they be? Surely not human anymore, surely. How would you never notice?”
Vlad paced forward, booted feet clicking along his laboratory floor.
“It would be ridiculous,” he continued, with a building crescendo, “so unfathomably self-centered surely, to not notice something like that befall someone so close to you, who died at the hands of your own invention? …If I’m correctly inferring who, in your household, you suspect of having activated the portal?” Vlad’s tongue lingered along his teeth.
Maddie’s line held, quiet. And the seconds of static drew long.
“Ah, apologies. I’ve overstepped,” Vlad continued. “I meant this as a vote of confidence in you. You and Jack both. Two people as attentive, caring, compassionate as yourselves. You would notice. I promise.”
“You’re… Okay, thank you, Vlad. I appreciate it.”
“Is there anything else, my dear?”
“No. No. Thank you, Vlad. I’ll think about this.”
Maddie’s line clicked dead. A chuckle built to Vlad’s lips and he let his head tip back with mirth. It lasted only a moment. He stowed his phone. And as if the interruption had never happened, Vlad reaffixed his attention on his own portal swirling in front of him. It bathed him, swimming green, purring contentment.
And Vlad vanished into his portal.
(Chapter 2)
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urmom3001 · 1 month ago
Text
George Weasley's Crush on
Y/n Longbottom
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Summary: The five times George Weasley realises he really likes Y/n Longbottom, a confident, smart girl to her opposite counterpart, Neville. And, the one time he did something about it to seal the deal. 
Warnings!: Fem!Reader, Hufflepuff!Reader, Mostly fluff, nothing really. 
W.C: 6.0k
1, Year 4, 1993
For the first two years of her little brother’s career at Hogwarts, Y/n tried to keep her distance from him– per his request. He was a young boy, just starting his amazing magical career, and Y/n understood that he wanted to flourish by himself while she idly stood by watching him struggle to do just that. She never lost faith that he would though. 
Now, it wasn’t like they hadn’t interacted, of course they talked throughout the year, and studied in the library together. However, being in different houses helped with the distance that Neville wanted to keep. Y/n was a Hufflepuff, the house a lot of people thought Neville should’ve been placed in. Y/n thought otherwise, she trusted in the Sorting Hat’s judgement very deeply, her loyalty never faltered. 
Y/n loved her brother endlessly, and was happy to oblige with whatever wishes the boy had. So when Sirius Black had miraculously escaped from Azkaban prison over the summer, and Neville had insisted they would stay close together in fear of the man, she was glad to do just that to make him feel comfortable. She knew exactly why he was terrified, Sirius Black was the cousin of Bellatrix Lestrange, their parents’ torturer. 
While Neville had been the one to request her to stay away, he was also the one who gravitated towards her when he felt afraid–which was half of his time at Hogwarts. Y/n would never deny him anything, she was his big sister, how could she ever? So, even though they were not together for most of their time at Hogwarts, they had been seen around each other to note that they were in fact siblings, it was a mystery how none of his fellow lions seemed to realise it. 
It was the first breakfast of the term, the Longbottom siblings walked down the aisle arm in arm, hooked intertwined with each other. “Do you think Sirius Black would ever try to enter the castle?” 
“I highly doubt it, Nev. The castle is protected by talented Professors, it’d be an idiotic mistake to attempt to.” Y/n logically answered, visibly calming her brother’s nerves as they walked through the grand doors of the Great Hall. Y/n was very good at grounding Neville when he was feeling especially anxious. Y/n walked Neville down all the way to the Gryffindor table where his friends resided. “Alright, Neville, I’ll be off at Hufflepuff table, I’ll meet you at the courtyard for lunch, okay?” 
Neville nodded. “Alright.” Y/n nodded happily, before kissing Neville on the forehead, and turning her heel to leave. Neville went pink of embarrassment, one of the reasons he had asked Y/n to keep her distance was because she was very affectionate, hugs, and kisses on the cheek and forehead were her go to greetings, and biddings. Not that he minded, however things that seem little in private, and the comfort of your home seem different under the gazing eyes of your peers. 
Neville brushed it off, and sat down. “Morning guys.” He was now seated across from Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, and Ron’s older twin brothers Fred, and George. 
“Morning, Neville.” Ginny Weasley chimed from beside him, Hermione Granger echoed her one seat down. 
“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend, Neville?” Said Ron, through his mouth of sausage. 
Neville, Ginny, and Hermione looked bewildered staring back at Ron. “Girlfriend?” Neville asked. 
Fred, and George looked at each other knowingly. “The Hufflepuff that just dropped you off.” Fred teased. 
“Meeting you in the courtyard for lunch?” George raised his eyebrows in amusement. He was quite a bit jealous of Neville, the Hufflepuff he had never seen before was quite gorgeous to him. The four boys laughed, and Neville looked at Ginny, and Hermione. 
“That’s his sister!” Ginny cackled, and shook her head. 
“Sister?” All of the boys said in a synchronised surprise, how is it that they’d known Neville for three years now, and had never known he had a sister?
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Do you ever pay attention? Her name is literally Y/n Longbottom. Honestly.”
“Older, or younger?” George asked, he was trying to see if it was appropriate to grow a crush on the girl. 
“She’s a fourth-year.” Neville answered. “We’re together all of the time…” Sure they hadn’t spent every waking moment together, but they were together enough to put two, and two together that they were related. Longbottom was a particularly easy name to miss. 
“A fourth-year?” Ron repeated. 
“Yes, Ron, he just said.” Fred jokes, causing them to laugh. But George was distracted, his eyes across the room looking at the boy’s brother. She was gorgeous, and there was something about her that made him want to find out more. He knew her last name, and that she was a Hufflepuff, but that was just about it.
“Oi, Georgie’s staring.” Lee whispered to Fred. Fred looked at his brother, and followed his gaze. 
“No way…” Fred whispered to Lee, Fred sat in between the two. “Georgie’s got it for Neville’s older sister!” 
After the first day of term, George had started to see the girl everywhere, in places he had never noticed her before. 
He began to notice her when she walked past the Gryffindor table with her friends in the mornings, and afternoons. He saw her on his way to Potions in the corridors while she was on the way to her next class as well. And most of all, in the library– well exiting the library when he was on his way back to the common room from Quidditch practice. He began to make it a point to try and see her whenever he could during these times. It was a small, simple crush, one he figured he would let go of once he realised she was the type of girl that would never give him the time of day for his personality that was seen as immature, and loud. 
George Weasley, and Y/n Longbottom were opposites, totally, and completely. 
2, Year 5, 1994
George Weasley thought that his crush on Y/n Longbottom would dwindle, but no…oh no. 
During the summer he hadn’t given her much thought, but once he saw her at the train station on September 1st, he remembered why he had liked her so much. She was glowing, and was with Neville. He berated himself for nor noticing her sooner. 
“Oi.” Fred whispered. “You’re staring.” 
George furrowed his eyebrows. “Am not.” 
“Are too.” Fred teased. 
“So what?” George rolled his eyes as they stepped onto the train. 
“So. You’ve got a crush on Y/n Longbottom.” Fred chuckled. 
“It’s not a crush…” George looked back onto the line of students waiting to also board the train. Her, and her brother were just a few students down from himself, and his own brother. “She’s just–” George tried to find the words. “Intriguing.” 
“So…you like her.” Fred shook his head, and shared a look with Lee. 
“Oh, he’s got it bad.” Lee snickered. 
Later on in the train ride, George really, really had to go pee. He wasn’t sure why he had held it for so long. Perhaps it was his extremely short attention span that made him put it off, afterall the conversation he, Fred, and Lee were having was quite remarkable. A conversation of which Slytherins they were to prank this year, and the mysterious “event” that was going to occur at Hogwarts. 
He was walking down the aisle extremely fast to get to the lavatory at the end of the aisle, that was so close, yet so far. He was walking so fast that he didn’t realise one of the compartment doors had opened, and a girl had walked out. In his defense, the girl was not looking into the hall either, and would not have seen the redhead that was zooming to the bathroom because her head was turned to her friend.
Of course, as all people do when they aren’t paying attention to their surroundings, the boy, and the girl crashed into each other. The girl George crashed into? Y/n Longbottom. Great, George thought to himself, not only did he need to pee extremely badly, he had also just embarrassed himself in front of the girl he had a raging crush on. 
The girl, being so different in body mass from him, fell straight to the floor. George was mortified. “I am so sorry–” Until she started laughing. It was melodic, and George could've sworn he’d just heard a chorus of angels sing. George let out a hand for her to take. 
She continued to laugh while she took it. “It’s alright. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” She sighed, dusting herself off. 
George looked at her, no, not looked, inspected. He could not believe how that just played out. There was a moment of awkward silence, George forgetting how to function completely, even the feeling of the uncomfortable need to pee was gone. Finally he realised he hadn’t even checked on her. “Are you okay?” He asked, hoping she didn’t notice the effect she had on him. 
She nodded. “Nothing but a bruise on my bum, I’m sure.” She joked. She hadn’t really hit the floor that hard, she was fine. 
George nodded, and began to walk backwards. “Sorry again.” 
“Don’t worry about it.” She shook her head, with a small smile. A small smile that went a long way for George, as his cheeks went pink once he turned around to make his way towards the lavatory again. 
Of course, there was a line he could now see as he approached. He curiously looked back, just to see if Y/n was still in the aisle. He wasn’t expecting her to be just a few paces behind him. He now realised she needed to use the restroom too. He internally panicked. Things had just been adding up, he needed to pee extremely badly, he had just practically knocked the wind out of the girl he had a very big crush on, and now after just knocking her over, had to stand in line for the bathroom with her. 
George gulped now that she was caught up to him, and standing in the line as well. He leaned on the wall, and looked up before huffing. “Are you okay?” He wasn’t expecting her to make conversation. 
He looked down at her, she looked really concerned. She could definitely sense his uncomfortableness. He nodded. “I feel like I should be asking you that, considering–” He wasn’t trying to make her laugh, but she let out a small chuckle. 
“You don’t have to worry about that. I'm a-okay, I promise.” She reassured him. The conversation went idle, before George gathered up his courage to keep it moving. 
“You’re Neville’s older sister, Y/n right?” Smooth George, ask her questions you know the answer to already, he mentally berated himself. 
She smiled at the mention of her little brother. “Yes, he’s my little brother, he’s in your house, and you’re one of the Weasley twins.” George opened his mouth to confirm which twin he was when she cut him off. “Wait, let me guess!” Neville had told her that whenever he wanted to differentiate the twins he always looked for a mold on either one of their necks, because George had one, and Fred didn't. 
She inspected his neck subtly, and quickly found the freckle Neville was talking about. “You’re George.” She confirmed. 
George raised his eyebrows in a pleasant surprise. “You’re right.” He chuckled at her excitement, albeit she cheated, but who cares? Not him. George was a little sad when the line got to him, and he entered the lavatory. 
Finally, he was able to empty his bladder. Once he got out, Y/n was patiently waiting outside of it for her turn. Y/n smiled, as she entered the bathroom. “I’ll see you around, George.” 
“Alright then.” He said, although immediately regretted it. Alright then? He could’ve said anything else, but that. He could’ve said, “See you around.” or “See you too” instead he said, “Alright then.” Before he could redeem himself, the lavatory door was already closed. 
He groaned. He was less of a lady’s man then his twin brother was, but he was still not bad when it came to getting girls in his court. What was it about Y/n Longbottom that made him so…nervous?
3, Year 5, 1994
The Yule Ball was in full swing, the date was confirmed for Christmas day, and the halls were buzzing on who was bringing who, or who they were asking. George was stumped. After the incident on the train ride to Hogwarts with Y/n, they had become good acquaintances. They waved to each other in the halls when they passed by each other– George had changed some of his class routes to align with hers, and they would even have short conversations in the mornings sometimes when she would stop by to talk to Neville. 
George was the last one in his friend group to not have a date. Lee was going to Alicia Spinnet, and Fred had coolly asked Angelina Johnson to go with him on a whim during study hall, leaving just him. 
George wanted nothing more than to ask Y/n to the ball. Especially when he’d caught wind that Ginny was going to the ball with Neville. Now that there was no Quidditch due to the Triwizard Tournament, he didn’t see her coming out of the library like he used to, but figured she might be there at around the same time. 
Last year practice would end at around 7:00 pm. So that’s where he went at 7:00 today. He went to the Library corridor, and waited for her to exit. He had it all planned out, he would make it look like chance that he was there when she came out, and then he would say hi, and bring up the ball, and ask her. It was simple, but he was nervous. Very nervous. 
Finally he saw her walking out of the library with her things. He walked opposite to her, and greeted her. “Y/n! Hi.”
She furrowed her eyebrows, she never saw George around the library anymore especially now that Quidditch was paused for the year. “Hi, George.” She had gotten pretty well at telling the twins apart, mostly because Fred didn’t really speak to her. “What are you doing here?” 
“Oh you know just walking, but– now that I have you here, I was hoping to ask you something?” George started, he could feel the words getting stuck in his throat. 
She nodded, she wasn’t even expecting the words that were going to come out of his mouth. “Yeah sure, what’s up?” She asked curiously, giving him her undivided attention, whatever it was it seemed important. 
George gulped. “I was just wondering if…” He paused, and she waited patiently. He took a deep breath. “If you wanted to go to the ball with me?” George immediately regretted even coming to the corridor when he saw the look of rejection flash onto Y/n’s face. 
“Oh…I’m sorry” She started, George sighed. “I really would’ve loved to, George. Truly. But someone’s already asked me to go, and I’ve already said I’ll go…with him.” She explained, a Durmstrang boy she’d gotten to know a bit from her Magical Creatures class had asked her just a couple of days ago. But she also would’ve loved to go with George if he had asked her sooner. 
“Oh.” George sighed, the sting of rejection was laced in his voice. “Well, that’s alright, then. I’ll just–” He turned to leave. But Y/n stopped him. 
“I really am sorry, George.” She said in a sorry tone. “I would’ve loved to go with you.” 
“Nothing to be sorry for. I guess I should be sorry for asking so close to the ball.” He scratched the nape of his neck, the ball was next week.
Y/n’s expression remained sour. “Maybe we both can be sorry.” 
4, year 6, 1995
George’s crush on Y/n had somewhat mellowed down this year. It was still very much there, but as they became closer friends throughout last year, her presence seemed to dull his big feelings about her. 
When he was abruptly woken up in the night to the news that his father had been attacked in the Ministry, he was distraught. Groggy, and achy he and his siblings made it to the headmaster’s quarters, where they had gotten news that his father was attacked brutally, but was found, and was now safe. 
Which led him here during his winter break. At St. Mungos Hospital to visit his father. Himself, Fred, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Harry walked aimlessly around the hospital, they weren’t allowed to visit Mr. Weasley until he had awoken. Mrs. Weasley had told them to spend their time “exploring”, whatever that meant. They’d gotten to a room, it had many old witches, and wizards in the room, the plaque on the door was labelled as, Permanently Magically Incapacitated. That sparked the group's attention, but their interest deepened more when Ginny recognised two people in the room. 
“Is that, Neville, and Y/n?” Ginny said to her brothers, and friends.
“Neville, and Y/n?” Ron repeated. 
Hermione peaked through the window’s blinds. “It is.” She pointed out. “And that’s their grandmother.” 
“Why are they here?” Harry asked, and the others shrugged. 
“We should say hi.” Ginny suggested, making her way to the door. Before any of them could stop her, she had knocked on the door, garnering the attention of Neville, and Augusta Longbottom. 
Somehow, in the five seconds it took for them to get to the room, Y/n had disappeared, which saddened George. Neville seemed nervous that they were all there. 
“Uhh oh! Hey guys.” He acknowledged them, once Ginny waved. His grandmother eyed him. “Oh, grandma, these are my friends, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George Weasley.” 
His grandmother, a tall intimidating woman, reminded George of Y/n. She had the same perfect posture, and the same piercing intimidating gaze. “Why are you here, Neville?” Ginny curiously asked.
“My parents live here.” Neville shortly said, he sounded scared to reveal the truth. 
“They live…here?” Harry asked. 
Neville nodded, he wasn’t expecting his grandmother to give them his parent’s whole biography. Towards the end of her long rant, George had caught sight of Y/n. He must’ve lit up or made a face, because his grandmother turned to where his gaze was. The sight was despairing, as Y/n walked arm in arm with a frail thin woman, she looked just how their grandmother explained how their parents ended up here. Insane from torture. 
“Neville, Mum has something for you.” Y/n quietly said, her face surprised to see all of the familiar faces looking at her. 
“Again?” Her grandmother said. “Very well, Alice, dear. Very well. Neville take it– whatever it is…Very nice, dear.” Her grandmother said to her mother. 
“Thanks, Mum.” Neville said, taking the small bit of paper from her hands. It was a gum wrapper. Y/n let out a small smile. 
In that moment all of the others realised why Neville was, the way that he was. And why Y/n was so protective, and respective of him and his boundaries. George admired Y/n at that moment. He realised she probably had to have had a lot of self resilience to have grown up the way that she did. 
George wanted to converse with Y/n, but her mother was pulling her elsewhere into the room. As if on cue, Neville’s grandmother had excused the two of them from the conversation. “Well, we’d better get back. Very nice to have met you all.” She began to follow Y/n and her mother. “Neville put that wrapper in the bin, she must have given you enough to paper your bedroom by now.” George heard their grandmother instruct. 
Just as George was about to follow the others that were now filing out of the room. Y/n shortly told her grandmother something before calling out for him. “George!” She said, slightly jogging over. “Hey.” 
“Hey.” He smiled, happy that he was able to speak to her just for a bit. 
“Just wanted to say hi. But I ought not to keep your family waiting…” Y/n snickered, seeing an amused Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Fred staring at them through the window of the room. 
“Ignore them.” He rolled his eyes, there was an awkward silence between them, there was always an awkward air that surrounded them mostly due to George and his feelings for her, but also her blooming ones for him. 
“So, what are you guys here for?” She asked curiously, trying to fill the awkward air surrounding them. 
“Uhm, my Father. He was attacked while working in the Ministry. He’s okay though.” 
“I’m glad to hear. Well, I better get back to my parents. I hope your Father feels better soon.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it in comfort. “See you at school, George.” She smiled, before letting go of his hand, and happily walking over to her parents, brother, and grandmother. 
George had thought his crush on Y/n Longbottom had mellowed, but the way his heart pounded out of his chest from the way she held his hand. The feeling was something he’d never felt before. He’d held hands with tons of girls, kissed tons of girls, but never had they once made him feel how she did. 
When George had finally joined the others in the corridor outside, he was teased relentlessly, mostly by Fred, and Ron. However, he didn’t seem to care nor deny the fact that he did in fact have feelings for Y/n, because quite frankly it was undeniable now. George Weasley was deeply, utterly in love with Y/n Longbottom. 
5, year 6, 1996
After Dumbledore’s Army had been caught, George, and Fred had cracked a plan to end Umbridge's madness once, and for all. Of course, with the plan came dropping out of school, and beginning to work on their joke shop. 
Y/n was currently helping younger years with their wounds after having their detention with Professor Umbridge. As most Hufflepuffs were, and like her brother, Y/n was good with herbs, and plants. One of the plants she grew in her own dorm was Dittany, a plant that was used in many healing potions, and had many magical healing properties. 
She sat in the Gryffindor common room, because most of Dumbledore’s Army was Gryffindor students, healing the students’ wounds. George watched her, waiting for his turn, all of the older students collectively decided to let the younger students go first. They could handle the pain for much longer than the younger ones could. 
Y/n looked like she was in her element, healing people. She had once confided in George that she wanted to be a healer at St. Mungos. He could definitely see it. George admired how she could be so maternal at her age. She was very mature. It made George insecure about his feelings towards her, he felt they would never be reciprocated just because they were so different. 
But he couldn’t have been more wrong. Y/n had grown to like George just as much as he liked her, only she was a little bit better at hiding it. It was apparent to everyone except the pair of them. George was next in line for Y/n’s healing. 
They conversed while she did her routine. A couple of drops of essence of Dittany, and then a wrap to prevent irritation. She would’ve done it faster, but because they were conversating she moved a bit slower than usual. 
“How bad is it doc?” George joked, as she dropped the Dittany onto his skin. 
“Horrible, I think you’ll need extensive care after this one.” She played along, now wrapping his wounds with medical tape. 
“I don’t know doc, I think a kiss on the cheek would do it for me.” He was feeling bold, but he wasn’t expecting her to actually kiss his cheek. 
“There, all better?” Y/n asked, her voice was almost teasing. George nodded dopily before allowing the next person to be healed. 
“Why don’t they just get together already.” Ginny asked her brothers, Harry, Hermione, and Neville, watching Y/n start her healing routine. Neville looked shocked. 
“Together? My sister?” Neville questioned, he noticed they were friends now, but it went completely over his head that they liked each other. 
“They flirt with each other all of the time,” Ginny chuckled, and the others agreed. 
“It’s sickening.” Ron added. “George reckons she doesn’t like him back. That’s why he’s so afraid.” 
“Y/n doesn’t really…date. At least from what I’ve seen.” Neville said, now keeping his eyes on the pair, he looked away for a split second. 
“Are you sure about that?” Fred asked, as he looked at his flustered brother. Y/n had just kissed George on the cheek. 
Neville was very unsure.
6, The beginning of the war, 1997
After the twins dropped out of school Y/n hadn’t seen much of them until she joined the Order of the Phoenix as a healer after she graduated. Her parents were a part of the original Order, it didn’t come as a surprise to anyone when she happily accepted the invitation. 
George had long forgotten about his crush on Y/n, thinking about her from time to time– it’d been over a year since he’d last seen her. Until he saw her at one of the Order meetings for the first time. All of his feelings came flooding back. She looked older, her face had matured, and somehow she was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her head was tilted back as she laughed with Tonks while they waited for the meeting to begin. 
After the meeting concluded, they had a short conversation catching up on their time spent apart. “Longbottom, long time no see.” He cheekily said.
“Hello, George.” She chuckled. “How have you been? I hear you’re a successful business owner with Fred. I knew you could make it out of selling from your trunks in the corridors of Hogwarts.”  
During their years at Hogwarts, George, and Fred sold their products from their dorms, small things like their canary creams. Y/n was the only Prefect that let them off with a warning every single time they were caught. 
George chuckled. “Yes, have you been? I would’ve seen you if you had.” 
“I have.” Y/n nodded, George was surprised, he greets every single one of his customers, he would’ve known if Y/n Longbottom walked into his store, in fact he would’ve been ecstatic to see her. 
“You have? Perhaps you walked in when I was on break. Trust me, I would’ve known if you were in my shop.” George seriously said, but Y/n laughed, making George’s heart swell, it was a sound he hadn’t heard in forever. 
“Fred greeted me when I walked in, so perhaps you are right. I was only there for a few minutes, otherwise I would’ve been late for my shift at St. Mungos. Very impressive what you two have done with the shop.” She informed him. George groaned, having missed her by a few minutes, he would’ve loved to see her sooner than he had now.”Congratulations.” 
“You too, you’ve always wanted to work at St. Mungos.” Y/n was taken aback that he remembered such a small detail about her. 
“Thank you.” She smiled, before catching a glimpse of the time. Her smile dropped. “I’m so sorry. I have a shift at the hospital now. I would love to stay and chat, but I have to go. I'll see you next time.” She smiled, and apparated away with a pop. 
George was left alone; he couldn't even say goodbye. Fred, and Tonks watched with amusement written all over their faces. “He still has a crush on her?” Tonks remembered in 12 Grimmauld Place, the other teenagers would tease George about his crush on the girl all of the time. Fred nodded. 
“Oh he’s in love.” 
That was two weeks ago. It was July 27, and tonight they were transferring Harry to the Burrow. Y/n was a stand on healer, in case anything happened. She was to wait at the burrow for the others with her remedies, and potions for any injuries that might have occurred during the transportation. 
Y/n hadn’t seen George since the meeting, but she was having a deep conversation with his mother as they waited for the others to come to the rendezvous point. Mrs. Weasley, and Ginny were nervous. So was Y/n, the anxious air engulfed the room, so much so that after her conversation with Mrs. Weasley Y/n found herself on the front porch. 
The groups were late now, and Y/n was starting to worry. She looked up at the night sky if it were under different circumstances she would’ve thought the summer night to be beautiful, and calming, the way the crickets chirped, and the wind moved the grass. 
The calming sounds broke when the sound of the barrier being broken was heard. One of the pairs had arrived. Ginny was bolting out of the door, and running towards the approaching pair, it was Hagrid, and the real Harry. Y/n let out a small sigh of relief, however that was still six other groups left unaccounted for, one of them being George. 
“Harry! Hagrid!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. Y/n stood behind her with Ginny. “What happened, where are the others?” 
“Is no one else back?” Harry asked, and Y/n shook her head dimly. 
“They were on us from the start, Molly.” Hagrid explained, making Y/n’s stomach churn. “We didn’t stand a chance.” 
“Well, thank goodness you two are alright.” Mrs. Weasley said. 
“The Death Eaters were waiting for an ambush.” 
“Come inside, I’ll have a look at you.” Y/n said, while Ginny walked over to Harry. She figured she would let them come in on their own accord. 
They had barely made it a couple of steps towards the house before another pair came through the barrier with a loud whoosh, catching Y/n’s attention. 
“Here!” Lupin shouted, holding onto a bloodied Harry, transforming into one of the twins, not just one of the twins, George. 
Y/n went straight into healer mode, immediately rushing over to take the other arm of George to act as another crutch, although she wasn’t of much help due to Harry beating her to it. “Quick! Into the house.” Instead of waiting around, Y/n rushed into the house to grab her potions, and healing supplies. 
“Oh, my boy…” Mrs. Weasley said, making room for him on the couch. Y/n grabbed her wound-cleaning, blood replenishing potion, and calming draught for George,ignoring the ruckus from Lupin, and Harry. If it were anyone else she would have remained calm, but she was nervous having to care for George. Mrs. Weasley was hunched over George, but made room for Y/n once she saw her making her way over. 
Y/n placed all of her potions down. “Mrs. Weasley, could you please get me a warm damp towel?” Mrs. Weasley nodded, and made her way to the kitchen. “George, can you open your eyes, I need to see if–” 
George’s eyes opened as soon as she asked. “You’re beautiful.” He abruptly said. 
“You must be concussed…” She concluded, her wand was dimly lit. “Follow my wand please.”  George did as she asked perfectly, meaning he shouldn’t have been concussed. 
“I mean it.” George whispered, he had just almost died, and all he could think about is how he never asked out the woman he loved, out of fear. 
Y/n shushed him, her cheeks pink. “Let me care for you, and when you’re all better you can tell me all about it.” She grabbed her calming draught, and poured a bit into a small cup. “Drink this.” 
George drank it down with a big gulp, immediately feeling lighter, his tense body releasing. “This might sting just a bit.” She whispered, gently wiping away the excess blood from the side of his head. Her expression went even more serious when she realised George no longer had an ear. Still, he inspected her while she worked. She dropped a couple of drops of her wound-cleaning potion onto his wound. He winced. “Sorry, I know. I know.” She could feel the eyes boring into her now that more of the others had begun to arrive. 
She added the blood replenishing potion before sealing his wounds. “Vulnera Sanentur…Vulnera Sanentur…” She waved her wand around his head. Fred now kneeled beside Y/n while she cleaned up her supplies. She stepped away to give the brothers some space, and to grab her wraps to wrap his head. 
“How are you feeling, Georgie?” Fred asked. He still had a lot of blood in his hair, and on the side of his face. 
“Saint-like.” George answered. 
“Come again?” Fred confusedly requested. 
“Saint-like. I’m holey, Fred. Get it? I’m holey?” 
Fred shook his head, and smiled. “The whole wide world of ear related humor, and you go with, I’m holey. It’s pathetic.” 
“Reckon I’m still better looking than you.” George chuckled, and Y/n came back around with the wraps, and another wet towel to clean the rest of his blood. Y/n kneeled beside Fred, and from behind her heard:
“Mad-Eye’s dead.” Bill Weasley announced. “Mundungus took one look at Voldemort and disapparated. 
While they grieved, Y/n continued her job. Moody was a kind man, but a man Y/n hardly knew. She cleaned the rest of the blood off of George’s neck, and head. “Now that I’m all better, can I tell you how beautiful I think you are now?” George whispered. 
“You’re still in a daze, and medicated up. I doubt you’re not kidding me right now, Weasley.” She said, but a small part of her hope he was being serious. 
“I’m serious. I’ve had a crush on you since my fifth-year.” George confessed in a low voice. 
Y/n paused, before continuing to wipe the blood off of his skin. “Mrs. Weasley, he’ll need a change of clothes.” Mrs. Weasley nodded, and walked up the stairs. She began to wrap his head. 
“Let me take you out on a date.” George asked, lifting his head slightly off of the pillow so she could wrap his head.
“A date?” Y/n chuckled, but continued. “Where too?” 
The others shamelessly watched while the two flirted. Ginny, and the trio sharing cheeky glances. 
“Anywhere you want.” Y/n let his head down. 
“Anywhere?” Y/n confirmed. 
“Anywhere.” George nodded, although he was in pain, and a bit dazed, he knew he wanted this more than anything. 
“It took you almost dying to confess your feelings to me all of these years?” Y/n asked, realising how serious George was. 
George smiled. “Sounds about right.” 
“Alright, how about the Saturday after the next? If my calculations are correct, your ear should be mostly healed by then.” Y/n suggested. 
“Sounds like a plan, doc. But I think I’ll be fully healed if you kiss me right now.” George tried his luck, and smiled when Y/n leaned in. 
Y/n paused, her lips practically brushing against his. “Later, not in front of everyone.” She pulled away with a proud teasing smile. “You’re crazy, asking me to do such a thing in front of your family.” She chuckled. 
“Crazy for you.” He whispered. 
“You sap.” 
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ridleymocki · 1 year ago
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(seeing so many bad faith interpretations of the argument, y'all are really going to make me do this, okay HERE WE GO)
.................................
What Ed says: "I think last night was a mistake. I'm not ready for... Whatever this is."
What Ed means: "I didn't want last night to happen so soon or under those circumstances. Things are changing rapidly, which makes me feel out of control and scared."
What Stede hears: "I regret sleeping with you. I don't want the sort of relationship that you're after."
.................................
What Stede says: "It was a fine fish. It was... whatever. I was just trying to make you feel good!"
What Stede means: "I only cared about the fish because you cared about it, and I care about you. I liked the fish because it made you happy. Ordinarily, I'm ambivalent about fish."
What Ed hears: "I lied to you. I didn't care about your achievement I was just placating you to get what I wanted."
.................................
What Ed says: "Here's the news: I'm leaving. I got a job on a little fishing boat and I'm leaving. I'm a fisherman now."
What Ed means: "I think I need to be away from you to figure out who I am, because I haven't been able to do that while we're together, and your lifestyle now is the life I'm trying to leave behind."
What Stede hears: "I've made a decision to leave you and have a life without you. I don't value what we have enough to work with you to find a solution, I'd prefer to end it."
.................................
What Stede says: "Oh, Ed. Seriously? You're not a fisherman."
What Stede means: "I think you're using this plan to escape and avoid your problems. It sounds like you're pretending to be someone else. It seems to me like an impulsive decision and I am concerned."
What Ed hears: "I don't support this ambition. I think you're incapable. I don't think you can be different from what you have always been."
.................................
This is the kind of analysis done in therapeutic environments. When I put what they mean, it's not just a rephrasing but a boiling down to the core issue. I could go on to the rest of the dialogue but do you see the continuing ship-in-the-night miscommunication?? It's tripartite:
failing to express one's current emotional reality with the most accurate and clear language, often because that reality is not fully understood to oneself,
misinterpreting the other's language, due to preexisting sensitivities and defensiveness about one's own understanding of the situation,
increasing frustration and sense of personal attack that results from those misinterpretations, which perpetuates and worsens the poor communication.
Importantly, this kind of pattern means you miss the best and most important kernels of communication in an exchange because you're reacting to the more inflammatory parts.
Stede: "This can be whatever we want it to be." (I am willing to make changes to our arrangement so that you're happy). Ed: "I don't even know who I am! Alright? I know I don't want to be a pirate. And you, you're blowing up, you're the toast of the town." (I think we want different things. You're just starting a journey that I've already finished).
With those two bits alone they could've sorted this out. The first is the answer to the second. But they didn't -- couldn't -- latch onto it because all their other baggage was getting in the way.
And I'm being proven correct that this is what is happening, because I have seen next to nothing on here about the above two lines, only reactionary takes of fans also focusing on the inflammatory parts because of their predispositions. You're doing an encore performance of what they're doing.
Point being, there are no bad guys in this scene, just repeated system failure!
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iheartmira · 10 days ago
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waaa if requests are open, mayhaps a fun little angsty kind? your writing style feels like it'll match it well
perhaps a reader who is all about loyalty, pining for pure vanilla cookie AND white lily (because i think it's funny if reader got the naruto treatment where their best friends got together) like they're not all that hurt, they're happy for them, honest!!
it's just, it feels like they've been left behind
and shadow milk cookie notices this, the twist here is that, reader doesn't join him or switch sides but they indulge him, so it's two lonely people finding company with each other, do whatever you want with this, change a few things if you want!! most important thing for me is that reader isn't tempted to join, only wanting to have shadow milk's company
"curtain call" - shadow milk x reader (ft. pv and wl)
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✧︎‬‪‪ ‪‪✧︎‬ ‪‪✧
you weren’t surprised when it happened. the slow shift from stolen glances to quiet touches. from late-night conversations shared beneath the glow of starflower lanterns to soft smiles that only belonged to each other.
pure vanilla cookie and white lily cookie.
they’d found solace in each other’s light. you? you stood just at the edge of it. grateful. and left behind.
you told yourself you were happy. meant it, too. they deserved joy after everything. the pain, the scars, the loss. you had been loyal. you always would be. to them. to the cause. to the hope you all once shared.
but still, when you stood alone in the empty gardens where lilies bloomed and the air tasted faintly of vanilla, something inside you curled tight, unsaid and unseen.
that was when he found you.
"ahh, there you are. the picture of tragedy and dignity, an audience of one!"
his voice slithered out from the shadows like ribboned silk, teasing, bright, but never warm. shadow milk cookie stepped from behind a gnarled, petal-thin pillar of moonlight, his two-toned gaze flashing like twin stage lights.
you didn’t flinch. not anymore.
"you must be mistaken," you said, voice even, gaze tired. "there’s no tragedy here."
he clasped a hand to his chest, feigning hurt. "what a lie that is. your mask is exquisite, doll. may i borrow it for my next act?"
you scoffed, folding your arms. "what do you want?"
"to bask in your melancholy, of course!" he said, spinning dramatically. "the ache of being second, forgotten, but ever faithful!"
you didn’t answer.
he took a slow step forward, voice softening. "they've moved on without you, haven't they?"
you looked away, jaw tight. "they're happy."
"and you're not."
it wasn’t a question. just a statement. one you didn’t bother denying.
you should’ve walked away then. should’ve left him standing there in the ruins of your solitude with his words like oil spilled on water. but the truth? you were tired. not broken. not bitter. just tired.
"…you're still here," you said.
he smiled, all teeth and something like curiosity.
you let the silence stretch between you until it wasn’t silence anymore, just a pause between acts. and you surprised yourself when you said, "fine. keep me company. just don't talk too much."
"oh, how cruel!" he grinned, bowing low like you were royalty. "but i accept, with delight! it's practically romantic."
you sat beneath a withering tree that night, and shadow milk cookie lounged beside you like a serpent uncoiling in moonlight. he made commentary on the stars. wove lies into stories that made you chuckle against your will. he said your laugh sounded like the rustle of forgotten curtains.
days passed like that. weeks, maybe. you never asked him what he wanted. he never asked why you stayed. there was something unspoken in your arrangement. he didn’t tempt you to leave your side, and you didn’t try to fix what had long since shattered in him.
"i never understood loyalty," he mused one evening, his voice low, words almost tender. "it always ends in tragedy. is it worth it?"
you tilted your head. thought of pure vanilla’s gentle eyes. white lily’s quiet resilience. you thought of how their hands had found each other when you weren’t looking.
"i think it is," you said softly. "even if it hurts."
shadow milk cookie stared at you then. not with amusement or cruelty, but with something close to wonder. like you were a riddle he hadn’t solved. or a truth too sharp to swallow.
"you're a strange one," he said.
"so are you," you replied.
his grin returned, slower this time. "perhaps we deserve each other, in a way."
"no," you said, shaking your head. "i'm just… tired."
"mm," he hummed. "then let us be tired together."
and so, you did. not lovers. not allies. just two strange souls caught in the in-between. he spun his illusions, and you let him. you watched the world you couldn’t belong to anymore flicker beyond reach, and he watched you watching it.
maybe it wasn’t enough.
but it was something.
and sometimes, when you sat beside him and the world grew quiet, it almost felt like you hadn’t been left behind at all.
just… waiting for the curtain to rise again.
✧︎‬‪‪ ‪‪✧︎‬ ‪‪✧
‹𝟹 ‎ ⠀⠀ˑ˚₊ ·⠀interested in requesting? check out my pinned!
© 2025, iheartmira
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missadangel · 7 months ago
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The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)
All Chapters List
IV. The Desire (+18, Smut, MDNI)
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"Ubi amor ibi fides."
Where there is love, there is faith.
“Tell me who you are,” Acacius waited for the answer to come from between your lips, his eyes lingering on the curve of them.
You knew it was time. There was no point in dragging it out any longer. 
“Marcus, I-”
He was taken aback at first, but he liked it when you called him by his first name. He kept questioning you, though, still waiting for an answer.
The door of the room was suddenly knocked on from outside. It was his squire. Acacius turned his head angrily.
"Don't disturb me!" he commanded.
"Sir, it's urgent matter!"
Acacius looked into your eyes for the last time, then withdrew his hands and turned towards the door.
"Come in!”
Acacius' squire Cato came in, looking very worried. 
"Sir, you've been summoned from Collis Palatium (Palatine Hill). It's an emergency." He was out of breath.
"Take it easy and let me know what's going on, Cato."
"They said, Emperor Geta has been poisoned, sir. The Empress wants to see you."
You covered your mouth in shock. After all, he was your half-brother. Acacius looked at you and then back at Cato. "Why is she calling me? I'm not a medicus."
"I'm not sure, sir, but I was told she wanted to speak to you. The guard with the horse said so. He's waiting for you outside to accompany you sir.”
Acacius nodded and let out a deep sigh. 
“Take me with you," you said suddenly.
He turned to you. "No, it might be too late by now."
"I can help him," you said loudly.
"Maybe you can't. I won't throw you into this recklessly,” he hissed.
"Are you going to let him die? It would be disastrous for Rome if he dies. He may not be the best ruler, but he's on the throne and an emperor in the end. I know he rules better than Caracalla. You know that too. You can't just leave Rome's fate in his hands."
Acacius put his hands on his waist, thinking, uncertain, but knowing you were right.
“I didn't know you were so interested in politics,” he teased, crossing his arms.
“I'm just observing things,” you shrugged. “Please let me come,” you said pleadingly.
His brow furrowed, and he raised his index finger as if in warning.
"You will stay in your cloak in the carriage and you will not show your face to anyone until I say so. If I need you, you will come when I tell you. Is that clear?"
You nodded. “Yes, sir.”
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The upper class Roman citizens settled on the Palatine Hill and built magnificent palaces. Emperors lived here in palaces called Domus. Caracalla and Geta did not get on well, but they both stayed in the same palace, The Domus Severiana. This imposing structure was located southeast of Capitoline Hill and the Colosseum.
The carriage arrived at the Palatine Hill in the twilight. You and the General barely spoke the whole way, both of you feeling tense in different ways. He was nervous because he had brought you with him, and you were worried that you would not be able to help Geta in time. You needed to know what kind of poisoning it was. You were almost an expert, but you weren't sure how well you could do without Vicius, your uncle. If you do something wrong and he dies, you could be in trouble. The General was aware of this, and it was worrying him.
Domus Severiana had no entrance from the street because it did not face the street. Security issues were undoubtedly the reason. In fact, all you could see were high walls, and not a single window facing the street. As the carriage stops, Acacius looked at you directly. "Put on your cloak and wait until Octavius arrives."
You nodded and did as he said, pulling your cloak over your head. 
"I'll check on the situation, and if there's nothing left to do by the time I leave, you must return to the villa. Do you understand?"
"Understood."
Acacius looked at you one last time before turning towards the giant door of the courtyard, concern on his face. "I hope," you murmured as you looked behind him. "I hope you don't die, brother. And I hope I can help you."
A moment later, you heard the sound of a horse's hooves hitting the ground as it ran and you turned your head in that direction.  Octavius pulled the reins of his horse and stopped it right next to the chariot. He leapt down and regarded the scene with a keen eye.
"My Lady," he greeted, "I wonder if there might be any news?"
You shook your head. "The General is inside," you replied.
He nodded, "I'll see if he needs me," and went inside.
It was dark now, and you were eager to get moving. You were ready to get out of the cart and rush inside, but when you saw Octavius coming out of the courtyard, you decided to wait it out.
"The general said you should leave," he said quietly. From the look on his face, you could tell he didn't agree with him.
"Is it too late for him?” You swallowed hard.
“He said he doesn't look well. I think it's his last moments.”
You frowned at him. "I can save him, just like I saved the general. You know that, don't you?"
He gave you a look that seemed to say he was in agreement. But he was just following orders from his General. “Acacius ordered me to accompany you to the villa.”
You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, stood up, and jumped out of the carriage. Octavius stopped you by extending his big arm out in front of you.
"The General's orders are clear, my lady."
 "I cannot let him die like this. If this gets out of Rome, Our enemies will undoubtedly spread the rumour that the Roman Emperor died of a simple poison and did not even have a skilled medicus to cure him. This would be an attack that could potentially weaken the Empire, and we can not allow that to happen.”
Octavius was too stunned by your words. 
‘My lady, you speak more wisely than the emperors, you are full of surprises indeed.’ He smiled.
First of all, as a medicus who saves lives, it never felt right to do nothing and let him die. You were determined to do it, even if he was not your brother, even if he was not the emperor. As a patient who needs help.
“I'll answer to the General,” you said to reassure Octavius. “But, sir, we don't have much time.” 
Octavius nodded, then inhaled deeply. “Even if you answer him, he'll punch me in the face for sure.”
You walked with him to the gate of the courtyard, he gestured to the guards waiting at the gate, one of the guards knocked the gate with fist without turning his body, squinting at you, and the large gold-embroidered gate swung open.  
The main courtyard was enormous. As you entered, you were greeted by a rectangular fountain with a motif of four peltas (shields used by the famous female Amazon warriors). The walls were decorated with frescoes, the courtyards and colonnaded porticoes were covered with elegant marble, and statues adorned the fountain and porticoes. Some of those statues were of family members. The biggest and most central one was of Septimius Severus himself, your father.
As you passed the statue, you took a quick look around, not knowing who it was, and made your way to the second courtyard. A large fountain and the same columns stood in this courtyard, but the marble was a different color. It was a truly beautiful sight. As soon as you crossed from this courtyard to the back courtyard, Acacius, who was talking to Julia Domna, noticed you and scowled. Julia Domna was looking sad, too. On the upper balcony, probably in the part of the emperor's chambers, you saw a lot of movement. Slaves were in a rush.
The Empress was clearly surprised, "That girl."
Acacius glanced at Octavius and his face clearly showed his growing tension. 
"If I can help, Your Highness," you said, bowing your head.
"How can you help? General, what does that mean?" she looked at him with a frown.
You answered before he could, the whole thing was so unnecessary, especially when time was so limited.
"I know I'm a woman and I know it sounds ridiculous, but I'm an experienced medicus. I'm here to save our emperor. Please allow me, highness.”
“Is that true, General?” She asked, her eyes on you.
Acacius squinted at you and then looked at at her and nodded. “She is the one who saved me highness, so, yes it is true.”
“But Medici has already said there is nothing more that can be done,” she said in a tearful voice.
"My Lady, we're wasting time here. Please take me to him and see what I can do to help.”
Julia nodded, looking very desperate.
“Well, he needs all the help he can get, you must be skilled to heal the General, but I trust him not you, not yet, don’t forget that.”
You noticed the General clench his jaw.
"Come with me now,” Julia gesturing with her hand.
While you were all going up the stairs, following her behind, Caracalla, who was leaning on the balustrade in front of Geta's room on the second floor, watching everything meanwhile.
“Lover, Slave, Medicus, so many things hiding under that beautiful face of yours,’ he said sarcastically. You nodded at him but didn’t like the smile on his face. There was no hint of sadness in his eyes. He seemed far from sad.
Julia stared at him with determination. "We'll do what we can, won't we? For your brother.”
“All the medici have already done enough, mother,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Or don't you trust my own medicus?”
You wanted to slap him in the face as he was standing in the doorway stalling you. How could he talk so carelessly when every second was precious? He might not love his brother much, but his behaviour was leading you to suspect him and you hated it.
Julia gently touch his shoulder. “I trust him as much as I trust you, my handsome boy. You trust me, don't you?”
Whatever Caracalla sensed in her voice, he didn't like it, and his eyes sharpened. But he quickly recovered his expression and smiled. “Hurry, then,” he said, pointing with both arms to the door leading to Geta's room.
Julia looked at you, "Just you." You saw the General before entering the Geta’s room. He was visibly nervous.
You were certain he'd give you a scolding when you got back to the villa.
When Julia led you through the door, you saw the golden dressing screen first. Opposite, was a large table with kinds of fruits and flowers on it and two chairs. Just beyond, in the opposite corner of the large window, where the golden curtains hung, was a large bed, covered with a red veil so thin that you could see the emperor lying on his bed. 
An old man, who was undoubtedly the medicus Caracalla mentioned just ago, looked at you with curiosity.
“Your Highness,” he nodded, his eyes were on you.
“She will check our emperor,” she said firmly.
“But this is a girl and-“  
“I said, I want her to check my son’s condition.” Her voice was sharp.
“Yes, highness.” The man bowed his head and stepped aside, squinting at you, Julia crossed her arms and gestured at you. You turned your head to Geta, lying motionless on his bed, a thick satin sheet draped over him. He was wearing a red tunic with gold embroidery, he seemed delirious, his golden blond hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, his skin was almost white, you quickly lifted the bedclothes, took his arm in your hands and examined it. It was swollen, red, his neck had the same symptoms, it was definitely plant poisoning.
“Hemlock?” You murmured.
The man opened his eyes wide. “But how-“
Julia was surprised too. “Yes, they said that. Now that you've realised that quickly, you can make an antidote, can't you?”
You put your hand on Geta's forehead and checked his body temperature. It was burning. "We need to lift the covers now," you said, and grabbed the covers with your hands, lifting them completely off him and pushing them to the other side of the bed.
“I asked you if you could make an antidote!”
You ignored her question and asked, "How long has he been like this? Has there been any vomiting? Was it something he ate or drank?"
She froze for a second, thinking quickly. "It was after dinner. He threw up a lot, yes, and then he fainted. He was delirious."
"That's good. The vomiting," you said, checking his neck and lips with your fingers. You parted Geta's lips, still and pale. There was a little bit of food in his mouth, on the edge of his tongue, and you put it in a clean cloth and put it aside. They didn't even make him drink some water? “He needs to drink water and-“
“But highness, he shouldn't be uncovered like this, he will get cold, we need to keep his body warm,” the other medicus interrupted you angrily. Julia frowned.
You rolled your eyes and stood up. “Sir, you obviously have knowledge, but I don't think you've ever dealt with hemlock poisoning before. His body is fighting with poison right now, so we need to lower his body temperature. In fact, we need to get as much fresh air in here as possible. Please be sure open all the windows and I need clean water and cloths.”
“You heard her!” Julia shouted at the emperor's slaves. Then she turned to the other medicus. 
“Is it true? That you've never encountered hemlock poisoning before and you've never treated it and you didn't tell me?” Her voice was so sharp and loud that he trembled with fear.
“You've been living in this palace as a medicus for years, maybe even longer than this girls age. But you can't do anything against this poison. Even this girl knows more than you. And you have the nerve to tell me that my son doesn't have much time left?”
“Your Majesty! I did not want to upset you-”
“Get out!” She barked.
Then she turned to you. “Antidote?”
“No, there is no antidote for hemlock,” you shook your head. “But I can get the poison out of his body in the most undamaged way possible.”
Julia was confused. “So you mean I can hope that, my son won't die?”
You smiled at her. “No, at least not tonight, highness. I ask you to trust me.”
She nodded, “Do whatever it takes to heal him,” her eyes filled with tears.
When the water and cloth you asked for arrived soon, you put them on the bedside table, dipped the cloth into it, squeezed it a little, put the cloths on his forehead and neck, and took your medical bottles out of your bag.
“What are you doing?” Julia asked curiously. 
“I'll have to make an herbal mixture to-.”
“Didn't a plant already poisoned him?”
“Yes, but to reduce and neutralize this poison… Can I use the kitchen? I'll need to examine the food he ate for dinner and the drink he drank.”
“All right, come with me.”
You left him alone on the bed and went out with Julia while the slaves opening all the windows one by one, as you'd asked. The General and Octavius were waiting just outside the door. Caracalla was the first to notice you. 
He approached you two, looking you over, and then turned to his mother. “Mother?"
"He'll be fine. Let's pray for him," she said, putting his arm around his son. Then she called to one of the slaves, "Take her to the kitchen," pointing at you. Acacius was looking at you, but Julia stepped between you. "General Acacius, I need you to do something for me. Come with me," she commanded. 
Reluctantly he had to go with her and he must be hated it.
You called Octavius over as you and the General were walking in different directions. The slaves went ahead and showed you the way to the kitchen.
"Sir, I need your help with something.”
“Of course, what is it?”
"I was going to ask you to help me in the kitchen. We need to be quick."
Octavius nodded. He trusts you.
"Do you know where the empress and the general have gone?"
"She trusts the General, so she is having him question those who cooked and served the emperor's food. But what I don't understand. Everyone must have eaten the same food, right? Why is only Emperor Geta poisoned?”
“Thats why we're here, to find out.”
There was no one in the kitchen because they had gathered all the cooks and other slaves in the other courtyard like he said. 
You asked one of the slaves to help you get the bowl Geta had eaten from and the others. He went to the dining hall and brought the bowls that the other medicus had examined. You took a piece from Geta's bowl and put it on another plate. 
You took a quick sniff, without bringing your nose too close. You knew that the smell of hemlock was very pungent, but this didn't smell like it. That was a bit unexpected. You put the remains from the corner of Geta's mouth on the other side of the plate and compared them. It was clear that he had eaten from this bowl. You quickly looked at the remains of the food in the bowls and cauldrons where the others had eaten. They were all the same and there was no sign of poison in any of them. 
"It wasn't what he ate," you murmured. "It's what he drank," your eyes locked onto the wine cups. 
Octavius and the other slaves looked at each other, watching you curious to see what you'd do next. You looked at the slaves as you compared the cups. "Can someone tell me which is the emperor's drinking cup? Has a new wine jar been opened recently?"
They exchanged glances and murmured.
"Does she mean the one that that slave just opened today?"
"Maybe."
“Explain please?" you asked.
“One of the slaves spilled the wine during the drinks service, the emperors got pretty mad and told him to bring a new one. He ran to the kitchen and came back with a new decanter.
"And he poured it into Emperor Geta's cup first, didn't he?" you asked. Everything seemed to be cleared up, although you still didn't know what exactly had poisoned him.
"Show us that decanter now!" Octavius barked.
The slave girl nodded and ran into the dining hall to do as he said. A moment later she came running back with the decanter, but you got angry when she spilled some on the floor.
"Be careful! It must be poisoned!”
You quickly poured the wine into a cup and took a sample. The smell was a bit unusual, but you were relieved when your nose recognized it, you encountered before, back Egypt.
"Amanita muscaria," you said quietly. "He mixed it in with his wine."
"What's that?" 
You glanced up at Octavius. "It's a poisonous mushroom, made into an herbal extract and mixed into his wine. It's not an easy process, and not everyone can do it.”
You remembered the medicus from earlier. But you had better things to do right now than to blame him. The next step is to remove the poison from Geta's body. To do that, you had to make a natural antibiotic. You got the ingredients out of your bag and started making it right away, but then you had a sudden realization: everyone who cooks and serves food is about to die.
“Sir, please inform the General, I don't think it's the other slaves or cooks’ fault.”
Octavius nodded and turned on his heel and rushed out. You were praying as you making the herbal concoction with the help of the slaves standing beside you. While not as potent as hemlock, mushroom poison was still quite deadly, especially when combined with alcohol. But fortunately, unlike it, it is possible to make an antidote.
After what felt like an eternity, you finally finished the concoction and headed for the courtyard to go upstairs in rush. The other slaves ran behind you, stumbling as they tried to keep up with you on the stairs. You went into the room, put the bowl on Geta's bedside, and leaned over to check on him. You had so much you wanted to say, so much that hurt, but as a medicus, you were used to focusing on doing your job properly.
All you could think about was getting him better as soon as possible. You gave him the herbal concoction to drink with his slaves help. His breathing was weak, but you made him drink it all. You bowed your head when Caracalla came into the room. He was angry.
"Did you ask them to interrogate my slave?"
That slave who served Geta belonged to him, no surprise.
"He was poisoned by what he drank, not what he ate, and that makes him the prime suspect."
"Are you accusing me, you whore? Who do you think you are?”
He barked quite loudly, and at that moment, as you looked into his eyes, which were glowing with anger, you knew for sure that he was responsible for this. You forced yourself to remain calm.
"Never, Your highness. I would never accuse you of something your slave did."
He came closer to you, his eyes filled with menace. "Once my brother's long gone, all your show of healing will be in vain, and you'll be the one who answer for it, I’ll make sure of that."
You want to blame everyone but yourself, you cunt, you thought as you looked into his eyes.
You were both startled by a sudden deep cough. When you turned to look at him, Geta was propped up on his elbow on the bed, staring at you. 
"Who dares to make so much noise at my bedside?"
"Highness!" You couldn't believe your eyes to see him awake.
Geta raised his eyebrows, squinting. "You? Am I dreaming? Must be seductive one,” he smirked.
“Brother!” Caracalla rushed to his side and leaned over the edge of the bed. He was certainly a very good actor, you had to hand it to him.
“What happened to me? What is she doing here?” Geta was looking at you with his pale but alive face. Seeing him like that a proud smile spread across your face.
“Don't you remember?” Caracalla asked curiously.
“I remember I threw up like damn fountain, after drinking the disgusting wine, and then it was a bit dark,” he murmured, pursing his lips.
“My son!”
Julia burst into the room. The slaves must have informed her immediately. With a gentle touch, she led Caracalla to sit on the edge of the bed and hugged Geta. Caracalla stood up and crossed his arms. 
As you looked at them from where you stood, you felt envious that his mother was alive so she could worry for him, hug him, kiss him. You never had that chance and never will. 
“You are indeed a good medicus, what will you become next, I wonder.” The implication in Caracalla's voice sent shivers down your spine, you could almost imagine what he would do when he found out the truth about you.
Julia stood up and came to you, and for the first time you saw sincerity in her eyes.
“You gave me back my son's life, how should I reward you?”
“I have only fulfilled my duty, Your Majesty.”
“How decent.” Caracalla muttered.
“My head is still spinning,” Geta gasped, lying back on the bed.
“You should get some more rest your highness, and keep drinking the concoction through the night,” you said as you looked at him.
Geta sniffed the concoction and a disgusted expression settled on his face. “This is the most disgusting shit I've ever smelled. What’s in it?”
Just as you were about to say, he silenced you by raising his hand. “Don't you dare tell me, I don't want to know.” Then covered his face with his arm and pointed at you with his other hand. “I am indebted to you. Provide her with whatever she desires, mother.”
"That is very kind of you, but my sole desire is to see you recover," you said sincerely.
Caracalla laughed out loud which made you startled, Julia rolled her eyes, Geta laughed too.
What was so funny?
Geta turned his head to you as he was lying on the bed. “I get better why the General is so fond of you.”
When you heard his name, you looked at the door, but he wasn't there. 
"Let's give highness some space to rest," Julia said, gesturing to the door.
Caracalla pursed his lips, and you could tell from the look in his eyes that he wasn't happy at all. Julia took your arm, you were a little startled but you stayed still. "Are you sure you don't want anything? Everything has a price, and everyone has something they want in return."
You looked at her face as you walked down the hall together. "I just want good days for Rome, Your Highness. That's all I want.”
“It will be so, since you saved our emperor,” she smiled. 
You were beginning to warm to her, but something inside you kept telling you were putting yourself in danger. 
“I see you live with him as the General's medicus. Is it true you saved him in Egypt?”
You swallowed, but you had to tell the truth.
“Yes.”
“You lived there? He brought you here?”
You nodded.
“Do you have a name?”
“Highness!”
Macrinus came running down the hallway towards you. His eyes met yours, and you knew instantly that he carried a warning message. 
"I'm truly sorry for what happened. I came as soon as I heard. Could you please let me know how our emperor is doing now?”
"He's better now, thanks to this girl. It seems your and Caracalla's medicus wasn't as good as this girl."
Macrinus' expression made it clear he was not pleased. 
“Thankfully, he's alive. We should probably offer a sacrifice to the Gods.”
"I'll do that first thing tomorrow, but I'm not sure you're being completely sincere. You haven't called off the council meeting tomorrow, have you?"
"I would if it wasn't so important, but I thought Emperor Caracalla would lead it. He agreed."
From the way he looked at you, you knew immediately that the meeting was about you.
"If I could speak to His Majesty-"
"No, he will rest. Caracalla is also very tired, maybe you should come tomorrow. It has been a very hard night.”
"Have the perpetrators been punished? Who is responsible?" Macrinus was very curious, which made you also suspect him.
“The General is dealing with that,” she said with cruel smile.
You felt a pang of guilt for having forgotten him amidst the chaos.
"Your Highness, if I may, I would like to ensure that the General and I have completed our duties here.”
"I perceive that you are fatigued; they shall accompany you. You may leave.”
“Thank you.”
You nodded to them and hastened to the general, disregarding Macrinus' disapproving gaze. 
As you walked briskly towards the main courtyard, you thought it would be a good idea to get out of there with the general as soon as possible. You assumed he was upset that you hadn't listened to him. When you passed the tall pink marble column with gold inlay on the sides and came out into the main courtyard, you saw Octavius first. He was standing opposite the general and looking down at something. Then you saw the general himself, with his back to you. To see what he was looking at, you had to get past the stunted trees. Then, as you got closer, you noticed the strong smell of iron and then saw the sword in the general's hand. You were taken aback to realize that the smell was of blood dripping from his sword onto the ground. 
Then you saw people in slave clothes lying on the ground, including Caracalla's medicus. You were petrified. Julia and Caracalla must have had the General do their dirty work. When Octavius looked up at you, the General turned around and his eyes met yours. There was blood on his sandals, his leather armor, and his neck. His face was expressionless. When you saw him like that, you felt fear and horror. But when his expression changed and he looked sad, you threw all your fears aside and approached him. He pulled back and turned his head away. He wiped his sword on a rag Octavius handed him and sheathed it. 
"You saved him," he said, wiping the blood away from his leather armor.
"Yes, the empress said we could head out now,” your voice broke.
It wasn't just that they killed these people without a trial. They even had the General do this dirty job, and it made you angry. You forced yourself to ignore the people who were lying on the ground, lifeless.
You didn't like the way he avoided looking at you though, so you went over and took his hand, pulling him closer. "We're done here, General. Shall we go?" You touched his face with your hand and turned him towards you. His brown eyes shone like gems in the light of torches on the courtyard walls.
"Wait for me in the carriage. I'm not done yet,” he said coldly.
"I'll take care of it, sir," Octavius said, clearly worried about his friend. "Please go to your villa and rest." 
"You heard him. I want to go. I'm exhausted," you said, tugging on his arm, but he was like a statue and wouldn't budge.
Acacius turned his head to him.
Was he ignoring you?
“Thank you, my friend.”
But he must not have liked you tugging on his arm, so he grabbed your arm instead, you liked the way he touched you with a protective instinct. As you strode out of the courtyard, your gaze fixed on the general's face, you felt a sharp, piercing pain in your heart. You were not used to seeing him like this. You would have done anything to see him smile again.
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It was after midnight when the carriage arrived at the villa, there was no moonlight tonight, it was quite dark. The General was silent the whole time, he joined you in very short sentences when you told him what you had done to save Geta. It was hard to tell if it was because he was angry with you or because he had to kill those people against his will. He was a man of justice and honor, it must have been hard for him, and you felt very sorry for him. You checked his beautiful face as you entered the courtyard of the Villa, still looks upset, it was getting unbearable. Without thinking, you stepped in front of him and put one arm around his waist and one around his neck and embraced him. You could feel the surface of the leather armor under your skin as you pressed your cheek against his chest. 
“I'm sorry you had to do that.”
"I was on the verge of doing more,” he said in a sharp tone, almost as sharp as his sword.
You gazed up at his face to ascertain what he was talking about. In the gloom of the night, with only the light from the torch on the wall of the courtyard, the color of his eyes appeared to be very dark. “If you couldn't save him, she was ready to kill you. She was so mad and was willing to spill blood. I made my plan right in that moment. I was as ready as she was."
You swallowed hard, wondering if he was talking about a suicide plan.
“To her, you saved yourself by saving his son. That's it. She put Caracalla's medicus life on the line without a second thought. She could have done the same thing to you," he hissed.
You felt guilty when you sensed the tremor in his voice.
“I'm sorry, I disobeyed you.”
“You'd better be,” he muttered.
You took a step back and looked at him. Finally his expression had softened, and you felt a sense of relief.
“But you were going to kill the empress and the emperors just for a slave girl?” Raising your eyebrows curiously.
He smirked. “Wasn't it you who shout in my face that you were not a slave?”
You bit your lip and gave a shy smile. “I did. I’m sorry for that too.”
“And you still didn’t tell me who you are.”
“I will, but, with all due respect you haven't answered my question, General.”
He lowered his head and looked you in the eye. “Not just for a slave, I'd kill them all for you even if I don’t know who you are.”
He couldn't have been more seductive with that sharp tone, your heart began to race. But no matter how tempting it was that he was ready to kill anyone for you, you couldn't get out of your mind what Macrinus had said before. You couldn't bear to make the General look guilty when he knew nothing about it.
“Can I tell you tomorrow? I'm really tired. It's been a long day and night."
“It certainly was. Fair enough. Tomorrow then.”
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The next day, you woke up feeling so tired you didn't want to get out of bed. You had a lot of bad dreams about the General. You also thought about Caracalla's attitude, how ready he was to kill you, Julia's cruelty, and what she made the General do. It was all torturing you, and you didn't know how to deal with it. You were sure that even if Geta recovered thanks to you, he wouldn't support the General against Senate. There was nothing but tension between those two. Macrinus was so keen for you to introduce the congress tomorrow that he didn't even care that the emperor almost died. You knew that man's determination well enough. He wasn't going to back down from this, no matter what. He was only interested in power. He wasn't helping you because he cares about you. 
 He was using you as a pawn to achieve his goal. And you were aware of that. It's possible that everything he said about your father was untrue. Who knows what will happen to you when you show up in the council meeting. Or the general. You hated being in the middle of everything and didn't want to put the general in danger, so you felt your heart ache as you forced yourself to admit that the only thing to do was to leave. You wanted to go home, to your old land, where no one could reach you. If you could be invisible like before, maybe everything would be as it should be and the general wouldn't do anything to put himself in danger. It was a dumb idea, though. You weren't the type to run away. The emperors and their mothers had already seen you, and your absence when Macrinus convened the senate would have been an admission that you had run away. They would find you no matter where you went. There was no escape.
No, that's not an option. With so few options on the table, it was down to just one. However, there was something you wanted to do before telling him who you were. Now that you know for sure how you feel about him. As Aya, you wanted to do something as his slave. Yes, you were ready, maybe not physically yet, but you were absolutely sure as mentally.
A moment later the door opened and Norell walked in.
“Aya, are you alright? Master told me to check in on you.”
You sat up to look at her.
“I’m alright, nothing to worry about.”
“It's almost evening and you're still on the bed,” she complained.
Almost evening? Has it really been that long? Norell closed the door and came over.
“Or is it your moon? Do you want me to get you something warm?”
Fortunately, there were still a few days until then.
“No, I'm just a bit tired.”
“Yes, you came late last night, it was you who healed the emperor, but the master warned us to keep our mouths shut.”
“Well, I did what I could, yes. Is he all right?”
“The master? Yes, why?”
"Yesterday was a very tiring day for him and for me."
"He took his bath in the morning and then asked about you while he was eating, but he seemed fine."
Right, the bath.
"Shall we go to the bath today?" you asked her. You needed to take a bath before the night.
"Today? But I'm still bleeding, you know," she said, pursing her lips.
"Oh, right."
"But I don't think the master will mind you using the balneum," she said with a wink. "Is there any particular reason you wanted to take a bath today?" She raised her eyebrows suggestively.
When she saw you blush, a wide smile spread across her face. 
"Ah, so tonight's the night?" She clapped her hands gleefully. 
"Shhh, be quiet."
"No wonder you've been so pensive all morning."
You let out a deep sigh. She was right; you had definitely thought about it too, a lot. 
"But you haven't eaten anything yet. Why not come with me and eat something in the kitchen? Then I'll help you take a bath.”
"I'm fortunate to have you," you said, smiling, hugging her, looking at her reddish-orange hair, which represented ginger, thinking about what would happen after you revealed yourself. You didn't want to lose her friendship.
As you were leaving the room, you were pretty surprised to see the General right outside the door. Was he about to knock?
“I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing.”
Norell bowed her head and walked away to leave you two alone, giggling meanwhile.
You ignored her and eyed him up and down. He was wearing a white tunic with gold leaf embroidery on the hems, a brown belt with embroidery of the same colour and pattern, and a red shawl over it, as if representing Mars himself, which was stunningly attractive. You tried to stay calm, but it was hard.
“I'm alright, well, I guess I'm still tired from yesterday.”
"I see. It must have been quite tiring for you. I didn't get a chance to ask you much yesterday because I was angry with you, but now I understand better how hard it was for you," he said in a soft, velvety tone.
He looked better than yesterday, the anger and sadness in his eyes were gone, and seeing him like this filled you with joy. It was so hard to wait till night.
"But you promised for today," he said, his voice gentle but insistent.
"Yes, if it's not too much to ask, could I come to your room tonight?”
Acacius' brown eyes met yours, first with a hint of surprise, then with a growing sense of excitement. 
"You picked the perfect time to talk," he said with a smirk. You felt your cheeks flush, and at that moment, you felt a strange moisture between your legs. It was a new feeling for you, a combination of lust and desire. It was wonderful, full of life.
"I have to go for a while, but I'll be back tonight."
"May I ask where you're going?"
His smile faded but his expression was soft. “I need to see how the emperor, Geta, is doing. Other members of the senate are going to visit today. Sort of like a visit to see if he's still alive, I suppose.”
"Oh, I see. One more thing, I was wondering if I could use the balneum. Norell said she couldn't come to the baths and I didn't want to go by myself."
"Don't go," he said abruptly. "To the baths. I mean, never. The balneum is yours.”
“Thank you,” you said with a shy smile.
He took your hand and kissed the top of it.
"Enjoy your bath, wait for my return at night," he said almost commandingly, looking under his eyebrows.
He touched your cheek, where it was blushing, and gave you a gentle stroke. Then he walked out of the courtyard. Even though you felt a little abandoned by his leaving, you were pretty excited because you knew he was coming back, so now was the perfect time for a bath. 
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Norell accompanied you to the balneum, where you had a long chat. Thanks to her and the hot water, you were almost relaxed, and now you had only one thing on your mind. After getting dressed in your room, you combed your hair and applied rose essence with your finger tips on your neck and hair. It was your favorite, helps you to stay calm, and it smells so nice. 
It was almost night time but the General still hadn't returned, he had been gone a long time and you were getting worried. It was like bedtime for Norell and the other slaves. Cato, the General's squire, was waiting for his arrival in the courtyard. The water flowing from the fountain provided a soothing backdrop to the night, accompanied by the sounds of crickets. While you were playing with the water from the fountain, the black cat you had named Mau suddenly appeared and crossed between your feet, brushing its tail against your skin. She's been away for a while, and you missed her much. 
You picked her up, thinking it would be a good idea to play with her for a while, but she quickly got out of your arms and jumped down. She went to the west side of the courtyard, where the General's chamber was, and meowed at you. It looked like she wanted to show you something. You were curious, so you went over to her. She meowed and ran past the door and into the garden where you first officially met the general. It was hard to keep up with her speed, but you rushed to open the door and enter the garden. She was licking the remains of food on the ground. She probably stole something from the kitchen and brought it here, but she must have still been hungry. Tullia usually shooed her off, so she probably came straight to you. You felt sorry for her, so you went to the kitchen to get her something. 
You opened the door slowly and sneaked in. The kitchen was pretty tidy. You opened one of the food bowls, added some food, and closed the door. She started to meow louder and louder as she caught the scent.
“Sshh, you'll get us both caught,” you whispered.
You went back to the General's garden, afraid that Tullia would find a bowl on the floor in the morning and get angry. Mau ate all the food happily with a purr that made you smile. Once she was done, she licked herself clean with her paw and curled up next to you, ready to fall into a peaceful sleep. Unlike her, you were not so sleepy, you lay down on the grass to watch the stars, twinkle like jewels in the dark sky. It was mesmerizing.
"I hope you don't find yourself falling asleep there again."
You were startled by his voice. When did he arrive? You sat up and looked around. It was hard to see in the dark, so you looked up towards his balcony and noticed him. He was standing with his arms leaning on the balustrade, watching you from above. He had a wonderful smile on his face.
You stood up, quickly brushed your dress and hair with your hands and headed for the stairs. As you took each step, you felt your excitement and nervousness growing. When you got to the last step and were on the same level as him, he took his hands off the balustrade and looked at you.
You smiled when you realized from that distance that he was just as excited as you were. In the darkness of the night, in his white tunic, he shone like the stars in the sky, as if he had just descended to earth through them. As you approached him, he took a few steps towards you, never breaking eye contact. He closed the gap between you slowly, and you saw his dark brown eyes in a way you had never seen them before. They were dark but sparkling, full of desire, an open invitation to you that you couldn't refuse.
You stood there for a while, just speaking with your eyes. At first, you weren't sure how or what to do. You didn't know how to kiss. You'd never kissed anyone before, but you were eager to learn and you really wanted to touch his lips.
You reach up and pull his face closer to yours. You closed your eyes and tried to make your clumsy lips work, hoping that your kiss would be seen as acceptable. You brushed your lips against his and kissed his lower lip. Then you pulled back and looked at his face to see how he reacted. A gentle breeze came from his nose and between his lips, hitting your face.
Was he laughing? You probably looked a bit silly because it was your first kiss. You felt a bit embarrassed.
“My apologies, I've never kissed anyone before,” you murmured.
“Then you'll have to learn,” he said softly. “Allow me to teach you.”
He puts his hand under your chin to make you look up before kissing you. Then pressed his lips against yours with all the passion he has. And Gods! He was a very passionate man. You're so shocked that your first impulse is to reject him. But your slight push on his muscular shoulders doesn’t do anything to stop him. If anything, his kiss gains intensity.
He ventures a hand to your waist pulling you closer. When he started to lightly touch your lips with his tongue you parted your lips and let his tongue touch yours, not hurried but restrained. His tongue tasted like sweet wine, the sweet smell of his skin took your breath away, your blood raced, boiled under his lips. The way his mouth explores yours, the way he keeps rubbing his body against yours, all tells you to surrender to him. Instinctively you raised your arms to wrap them around his thick neck and tangled your fingers in his curly partially gray hair.
He broke the kiss and smirked. You were out of breath and surprised to find yourself in this situation. "You can stop me by saying no," he murmured while rubbing your earlobe with his nose. He pulled his head back gently, his eyes fixed on yours, waiting for your approval. You could see the passion in them.
“I’m afraid that,” he placing his hand on your chin and stroking with his thumb, “if we go any further, I may not be able to stop myself, and you should know, there's no turning back.”
The thought of it almost broke your heart, you wanted him more than anything, you were almost ready to beg him to kiss you again.
"Are you really certain about this?"
You were certain, and you wanted to throw yourself into his arms.
"I am, sir... Marcus." You took his other hand and placed it on your waist as if it belonged there. "I want to be yours.”
His face lit up with a gorgeous, radiant smile. Piercing you with his brown eyes, his huge hands land delicately on your hip and the contact is so intimate that you have to remember how to breathe. His low, deep voice sounds confident. “You have no idea how long I waited for you to say that.”
And before you can even react, he kisses you, but not as gently as before, much more eager, much more passionate. You completely given yourself to him with each deep, passionate kiss. 
His long, thick fingers traced a path from your neck to the hollow of your back, then to the knot of the thin belt you had tied around your waist. You gasped as he quickly undid it, and you found yourself in his arms.
He lifted you so easily in his strong muscular arms, your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest when the air hit your face as he carried you to his room. He set you down, near to his bed, you didn't break eye contact as he slowly undresses you, you were sure your cheeks were redder than ever. The dress falls to the floor and gathers around your feet. He pulls your hair aside to expose your neck and collarbone. The atmosphere in the room changes, and you realize your body is shaking. He must have noticed it too because the tenderness in his eyes turns into something else. 
“You have a rare beauty,” he whispers, stroking your collarbone with his fingers, ”Your skin is like a pearl hidden in an oyster shell for me to open.”
When you averted your eyes from him, he cupped your chin in his hand and turned it toward him.  He scooped you up and lays you gently on the bed. The feel of the soft fabric against your skin is pleasant, but nothing compared to the sight of him standing over you and running his eyes up and down your body. At first you squirm shyly under his piercing gaze, his eyes screaming at you: You are so beautiful. I want you. This not only relaxes you, but also makes your body squirm with anticipation. Hot desire.
Your eyes widened when he took off his tunic, you had noticed how gorgeous his body was while he was bathing, but now it was even more impressive. A strong masculine chest, a muscular stomach and a perfect v line. The scars he has add to his rough beauty, perfect.
Marcus unhurriedly puts his knee on the bed and crawls over your body until he's standing over you. You weren't sure if he was trying to gauge your reaction or trying not to startle you with a sudden movement. He brought his face close to yours and began to run his lips along your neck and ear, his fingers caressing your shoulder to your collarbone, and then your arm. 
“Don't be nervous, try to relax,” he whispered in your ear, and when his warm breath hit your face you were getting impatient. He was being too kind and you were grateful for that, but you wanted to be his, you wanted to know what it felt like.
Then he uses his weight to pin you to the bed. The feeling of bare skin against bare skin is incredible. You start rubbing your body against his, savoring the friction. The contact of his body against yours makes you shiver. It feels thrilling. Arousing.
His mouth eagerly finds yours and turns into an all-consuming kiss. Warm, eager lips slide down from your chin to your collarbone and down between your breasts, sucking your sensitive skin in their path. You've always tried to imagine what men's lips would feel like on your skin, but nothing could prepare you for this overwhelming wave of sensations. It feels better than you think. Your back arches and you find yourself wanting more, more of his hand, more of his eager mouth. He stops and stares at you as he hovers over your breasts. You squirm in impatient anticipation. What is he going to do?
He runs his nose and mouth around your breasts, his hot breath caressing your sensitive skin. Marcus blows lightly on one nipple before bringing it to his hot mouth. He sucks gently at first, making you tingle all over. When his mouth presses on your nipple with long, deep, almost wild sucking movements, the sensation is almost unbearable. You moaned, writhing with pleasure beneath him, his mouth slides down to your stomach, torturing its way south until it reaches your ankles. Then he slowly slides up your leg until he's licking your inner thigh. 
He keeps your body arched as his lips repeat the sensual orbit up and down your other leg. He lifts your leg and pulls you down a little to better position it, puts it on his shoulder. You love that he is so strong and uses his strength to move your body. He runs his warm tongue alternately over both your thighs and slowly approaches the top of your thighs. 
He uses his strong hands to spread your legs, leaving your most sensitive area ready and well exposed to his tongue. A sudden flush of embarrassment makes you raise your arm to shield your eyes as he takes a good look at your most intimate parts. Marcus grasps your arm, pulling it back. "Don’t be embarrassed,” he murmurs. “So beautiful.”
He hums into your folds, making pleasure run through your body. His erection sears your skin, making you aware that he’s getting pleasure from driving you crazy with his mouth.
He kisses the area softly; he flips his tongue and sucks you sensitive lips gently. Relentlessly.
And his tongue finds your most sensitive spot. You gasp, writhe with pleasure as your legs stiffen. You cry out, exchanging your fluttering, flaming tongue for hungry lips. This pleasure is more than you can take. Your muscles tense, your toes curl. You didn't want it to stop, but it was becoming too much. Your insides begin to tremble. Finally he increases the pressure of his suction on your clit. Pleasure, scorching, pure, exquisite pleasure, overwhelms you and you explode. You try to muffle the vocal expressions of your pleasure by biting your lower lip, but he parted your lips with the tip of his finger.
 “Let me hear you,” he says as he gently kisses your lips and chin.
Still on his knees, he takes you in his big arms and embraces you. He kisses you sweetly as you slowly begin to descend from Elysium.
He murmurs satisfyingly. “It’ll be less painful now that you’re so ready for me.” He places soft kisses on your shoulders. “Do you want me to continue?”
You pressed your forehead to his muscular chest and nodded.
He gently lays you on the bed once more, you look at his erection nervously. Like the rest of his body, it is large, hard, and beautiful.
He leans to kiss you and you forget that you're nervous. In a swift move, he puts his hands on your knees, bending them, spreading them apart gently.
“Look at me.”
 You obey. The look on his face is hungry, almost predatory, as he settles between your legs.
You gasp when you feel your Marcus -your General- slowly rubbing against your folds. Coating the tip of his erection in your wetness. You squirm under his torture.
Still keeping your knees spread apart, he bends his body to kiss your mouth. “Even with your incredibly wet response, this will hurt. Tell me when it becomes too much.”
You feel him at your entrance for what feels like an eternity, enjoying the feeling of his erection rubbing your most sensitive spots.
“Surrender,” he commands while gently kissing your face, sensually sliding his hands all over your legs. “Relax.”
You take deep breaths in and out as he kisses first your mouth, then your nipples. He pushes the thick first inch of himself against your tight virgin walls and opens you up. You moan at this foreign sensation and open your eyes wide.
You don't want to say out loud that you don't want him to go deeper, but he reads your body, stops moving and focuses on satisfying the rest of your body while half buried inside you.
His hands have never been as hot on your skin as they are now. He leaves traces on your upper body and makes your body writhe in pleasure. He worships you. He stretches you. He moves slowly, constantly pausing to let your body adjust to him. You breathe sharply, your eyes locked. Your fingernails dig into his back as he starts to penetrate further into you, the pain ripping through your body as you spread to swallow his erection.
Marcus speaks into your neck, his warm breath tingling your skin. “Don't be tense,” he commands in a deep, husky voice that melts you with desire. “Relax, Aya.” He soothes your pain with a long kiss and you open your eyes and feel yourself relax. You love to see him taking your virginity, his beautiful eyes closed on the side of your neck, your body lying vulnerable beneath him. 
When he finally enters you, he lifts his head and looks you up and down, running his hands through your golden hair and looking into your eyes. His pupils dilate. There is a mixture of triumph and tenderness in his eyes.
“You look gorgeous sprawled beneath me.” His breathing is ragged. 
You stay like that for a long time, looking into each other's eyes. Despite the discomfort, you have never felt so close to him and you feel your love for him growing. Similar feelings seem to be burning inside him. The way he is looking at you right now is a combination of admiration, love and lust. You wouldn't change this moment for anything. 
When he feels you are ready, Marcus slowly pulls back, allowing you both to enjoy the painful, exquisite friction. He pushes forward again and you scream at the top of your lungs. The pain is back and you can't decide if this is more pleasure or more pain. All you know is that you don't want him to stop.
A wild growl rises from deep in your throat as he pulls back once more. He groans and slowly thrusts again. And again. Each time in a slow, sensual rhythm. Each time less disturbing and more delicious.
He seems to control himself not to speed up. But it certainly was, Marcus could feel the beast inside him, the beast that was screaming to be released, next time, he thought, not now. His hands leave your knees and grasp your head and kisses you.
It's all too much. The tenderness. The feeling of fullness, the searing warmth of your bodies fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. The thought that even though he's taking his time with you, he's still hard enough to make you feel like you're his. Beads of sweat cover his handsome face. His wheezing breaths on your neck tells you it won't last long.
Your walls are closing more tightly around him now. You feel him trembling. You feel him being released, calling out to you, emptying himself. His sounds of pleasure are music to your ears.
Marcus stays inside you for a while, breathing hard against the side of your neck. You feel his smile on your skin.
When he finally pulls away, it hurts. Both physically and emotionally. You already miss the warm connection between your bodies. He kisses you again and pulls you against his chest.
This whole experience was incredible and unlike anything you have ever experienced before. Every touch, every sound, you felt his love spreading through your whole body, mind and soul. Even after you left, you will always remember him as the man who made this moment so special. And you feel so grateful for that. You adore him right now and you know that you would do anything for him.
And you will for sure. You will do your best to avoid any misunderstanding or damage to his reputation. At that moment you made a firm decision.
You were sure he wouldn't like it, would even be angry, but you had to do it anyway. Your eyelids felt heavy as you felt the warm breeze from the balcony against your skin, Marcus must have fallen asleep too, lying motionless with his muscular arms around you. You fell into a sweet sleep as you pressed your ear against his chest to listen his heartbeat. 
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When you woke up you felt a pressure between your legs, right in the center of your womanhood. Also feeling sore, heavy, and groggy. But you tried to move, even though it was difficult. It was still dark outside, you didn't know how long you had slept, but now you had to get up and move to do the other thing you had wanted to do for so long. But Marcus' thick arms were wrapped around you like a cage. Slowly you raised his arm and tried to slip away. He moved a little but didn't open his eyes, he was still asleep, thankfully.
As you got out of bed you felt wetness between your legs and turned around to look at the sheets. They were quite wet, and a red liquid had spread like spilled wine. You felt the blood boiling under your cheeks. You pressed the part of the sheet between your legs, but was that all? All those fears were for this? A triumphant smile spread across your face. You were sure to feel different now, like you were reborn. After all, from tomorrow there would be no more Aya. You picked up your dress from the floor, quickly put it on and went to the General's wooden chest, the letter was still there. Careful not to make a sound, you pushed aside the blank papers and other papyrus and reached for it. As you held it in your hands and looked at it, then you looked over at Marcus, who was sleeping peacefully on the bed. You wished you could give it to him yourself and have him open it in front of you, but you couldn't be sure of his reaction. You stood up and approached the bed, leaned over and put the letter on the dry side of the sheet so he would see it when he woke up. 
“Forgive me, Marcus,” you whispered. 
But you felt you had to do it, to go to your brother Geta before the day of the meeting and tell him everything, yes it sounded stupid, but you were leaving the letter in good hands, the General’s. And that was your assurance.
For some reason you trusted Geta more in Macrinus. Maybe if you tell him about Macrinus' plans he would be on your side, but it was just a hope, a desperate hope. You didn't want to put Marcus in that kind of danger, knowing that he would be there to defend you and oppose them. Maybe he wouldn't, but no matter what, you were going to go first instead of facing them at the council meeting, yes, that was your final decision. 
After lingering on Marcus' face and beautiful body with your eyes for the last time, you left the room. Your chest tightened with pain, it hurt more than between your legs. 
Love is not the solution to everything. But by accepting love and fighting for it, you gave yourself a reason to hope. Leaving him as Aya to meet him again with your new name and your new self. Septimia Aurelia.
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Hope you guys enjoyed with horny moments lol
thank you everyone for all likes and comments <3
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maacbrem · 5 months ago
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Absolutely insane about the Thelyss brothers in Vasselheim cause like
Essek the Bright Queen is RIGHT THERE SIR PLEASE - but then, so is his brother, his little brother he probably still thinks of as a child because they were allowed to be children so briefly before anamnesis failed to come and they had to make something of themselves as new souls in an ancient Den, and Verin is the youngest Taskhand of Bazzoxan and a highly accomplished Echo Knight but he’s going to war??? Against aliens and would-be god killers and Ludinus Da’leth???? And Essek is a heretic fugitive and selfish to his bones, but he loved his brother even when he didn’t think he was capable of love at all, even if he wasn’t very good at it. So he stays in Vasselheim and he makes sure that these strange, awe-inspiring legendary heroes know his brother’s face, his voice, his armour, so that maybe if he falls one of them will deign to pick him up. He thinks about his friends, far from him now (Caleb, out of his reach and likely preparing to do something reckless but too brilliant to be called foolish), and looks at his brother, who will also go, who might never come back.
And Verin??? The youngest son of his Den, the second new soul prodigy by necessity who never really understood his brother but loved him anyway, who mourned their father so hard that he tried to become him by throwing himself against the endless hordes of the Hells, who now answers the call of all the gods and Exandria itself to fight a war with impossible odds, offering himself and his soldiers as potential cannon fodder so that the legendary heroes of the age might emerge victorious? I need to know how long he’s known what Essek did (because I know that Essek confessed and part of him hoped that Verin would condemn him, his righteous, devoted brother), and I need to know if Essek faked his death or just vanished, and I need to know if Verin wept for him. Verin who loves his people and his country and his god, who believes in things like faith and loyalty because he’s never really had cause not to, who has to find a way to believe in his brother, too. He learns to recognize this Archivist disguise and a few others that Essek favours, and he stops referring to his brother by name ever just so he doesn’t forget at the wrong moment, and he carries the beat-up booklet of Ashari poetry that he first learned to read Common from that still has child-Essek’s penmanship in the margins and he thinks about how seasons change and how winter doesn’t really kill, it just rests, and the process of a butterfly’s metamorphosis isn’t really that far off from the Luxon’s decree to become your ever-bettering self.
Essek doesn’t say “come back” but he does say “fight smart” and Verin knows what he means. Verin wraps him in a spine-cracking bear hug, uncomfortable in his armour but Essek has gotten better about physical affection in the past few years and one day Verin intends to thank the Mighty Nein personally for that. Verin says “stay sharp” and then quieter he says “i’ll see you again” and Essek hears ‘in this life or the next’ and he very calmly and sanely doesn’t start screaming, but he does press a pearl to Verin’s forehead (Caleb’s variation of the somatics, a useless bit of sentimentality made powerful that Essek adores). And then they have to part ways before Verin rejoins the Kryn contingent and Essek disappears back into the crowd, two brothers finally on the same side but unable to stand together.
Anyway, I think they’re neat.
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hanniescookie · 2 months ago
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i like you, i'm sorry - ljh
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pairing - ljh x f!reader
genre - fluff, alternate au
warnings - kissing, fluff, a tiny bit of angst if you squint but happy ending
summary - jihoon is your classmate and crush since freshman year at music school, but when you get to know what he really thinks about you, you can't help sinking in a heartbreak.
author's note - MY FIRST EVER FIC THAT I'M ONLY A LITTLE PROUD OF??? @jjjjeonww // my love, my wifey, my precious faith, here's my first piece of writing on tumblr for you!! you're the first person who made me feel welcomed on tumblr without even trying, and you know exactly why you're so dear to me, so take this appreciation token and have fun w it 🤍 don't let any XY chromosome dull your spark when uji is here <3
-------------------------**~~**--------------------------
You type away the last bit of your lyrics on your laptop, and then sigh out loud. It's been a hectic day — one that has made you cry. Many assignments were piled up that you barely got done at the last minute, and if that frustration wasn't enough, you were belittled by your very own crush.
Lee Jihoon.
The guy you've liked since freshman year. It never helped that he was never mean to you so like the simple girl you were, you always glorified the bare minimum he provided you with.
If he sat beside you in class because there was no other seat available, you'd take it as a sign. How dumb.
He never really shattered these delusions of yours anyway. He took the ice cream you gave him as an excuse just to speak to him. He answered all your questions about the lessons that you had understood well enough and taught you a little bit of piano too when you asked. He even texted first so many times and responded to your texts really well.
So you had no reason not to feed in your bubble of delusion. Well, not until today.
It was a routine music theory class early in the morning when he sat beside you. You felt butterflies flutter in your belly the longer you stared at him (you tried not to). You were determined to try and talk a little more to him today — at least more than the hi, good morning, how was your day, is this seat available kinda stuff.
However, right after class ended, some of your classmates surrounded him, asking him questions about the lesson. It was a known fact that Jihoon was a genius, and was always praised by the teachers. It felt like he was born to make music. Hence, often times, like today, people came up to him for help.
He wasn't entirely pleased with being cornered like that, but he was still kind enough to help. You sat in your place, watching and listening as the conversations slowly shifted from one topic to another. Jihoon's focus was on the many people in front of him, and his back was facing you now. That should have made you feel ignored, or at least insulted, but it didn't. Not at that time. You were busy listening to his voice as he talked to everyone.
Then those words left his mouth — the ones that have now bled in your lyrics, the ones that made you cry and the ones that made you resent him.
"What do you think about Y/N?"
Somebody had asked him — you can't recall who it was, but definitely one of the girls who never seemed to like you.
Jihoon's response had come with a little laugh — like he was joking. "Oh, she's just an annoying classmate."
You didn't wait to notice if he'd notice you leaving after that. You just left, carrying your bag over your shoulder as tears pricked your otherwise soft eyes.
And now here you are, four hours later, sitting in an empty classroom and staring at the lyrics you penned out of your heartbreak. Well, this will pass too, you tell yourself, pressing save on your document.
"Why are you sorry for liking someone?"
You yelp when you hear a voice directly behind you, turning your head instantly to see Jihoon bent over your shoulder. He stands back with a little smile, pointing towards your screen with his chin. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. The words looked interesting."
Baffled, you turn back to see your now saved document still displayed on the screen. The bold title says, "I like you, I'm sorry."
Your face feels warm suddenly, and the tears you had successfully hidden threaten to come out. You grit your teeth, trying to keep your composure when he sits beside you. "You can't just peek in my work. It can be personal."
He looks at you, a little alarmed at your tone — something he's not used to hearing. His expression turns only a little concerned, almost guilty. You can't catch the emotion exactly. "Is everything alright?"
You try not to, but you snap anyway. "Yeah, no. Nothing is quite alright. You don't get to call me just an annoying classmate and then sit here looking all concerned like I mean something to you."
You watch a flicker of uncertainty cross his features, and he looks surprised if you can gauge correctly. For several seconds, he tries to find words and you wait — really wait like you always have. Maybe it's because you're frustrated, but your patience runs out.
You shut your laptop, and stuff it in your bag, preparing to leave. If leaving is what you do best, so be it.
But Jihoon decides he doesn't want to watch you leave. At least not before he even tries his luck. His fingers close around your wrist, pulling you to sit back beside him. You land a little too close to his face, your knee brushing against his.
It's the closest you've ever been to him, and even though you're genuinely very hurt, your heart betrays you. It beats faster, finding comfort in his beautiful eyes that you fell for.
"Y/N," he speaks, soft and slow, and you feel like melting on the spot. He continues, "I didn't mean it."
"Huh?"
He breathes, closing his eyes for a second before looking back in your confused ones. "I didn't mean what I said. It was just– oh god, I'm stupid. I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to say that."
You wait for him to finish explaining, but he's quiet again, just looking at you through his lashes as if he's confused himself. He shakes his head a little, sighing, before he speaks again.
This time, it's a question. "Do I mean something to you?"
Your breath hitches a little, tongue darting out to swipe across your dry lips in nervousness. Any hurt you'd felt in the morning flies out of the window, and you can only focus on Jihoon and his soft voice, asking you a question so intimate.
You can't help it — your head nods itself once, and you're so glad it does because the way Jihoon smiles is priceless. You'd do anything to keep seeing the sight.
"I'm honoured," he says, smile softening. "And so very guilty for hurting you. I always assumed you probably find me annoying because I deliberately come late just to sit beside you, and I text you and I'm always looking at you. I kind of projected my problem on you. I thought that saying that would make me believe it and you'll hate me anyway."
You stare at him in complete disbelief, blinking owlishly for longer than you should. He's starting to chuckle at his own absurdity. "I didn't know how to deal with how much I like you. I also didn't know you felt the same."
You swallow, feeling warmth flood your face the longer you look at him. Slowly, you move a little away, your eyes traveling back to the desk in an attempt to not be any more flustered. Your heart runs a marathon and you genuinely don't know how to wrap your senses around your current situation.
"Jihoon I—" you begin to speak, but he holds your hand softly, smiling. "Will you be my girlfriend?"
If the sky were to fall on you right now, you'd gladly be buried underneath with a smile on your face. Your lips tilt up, curling into the smile that Jihoon absolutely adores.
And you nod again, this time with more firmness than before. His smile widens, but only enough to keep it soft. His eyes flicker to your lips for a second before he asks, "Can I kiss you then?"
This time, you don't nod. You're way too flustered to do that. You simply lean forward, and capture his lips in a sweet kiss.
Just like that, an empty document in your laptop awaits your new lyrics about your newfound experience — one that's too surreal to feel real.
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wtfaniii · 3 months ago
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Best Friend's Brother
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Summary: Fleeting and secret romances are the best, you liked to feel that adrenaline but a moral conflict arises when you realize that your new lover is your best friend's brother.
Warning: Flirting, innuendo, reader is three years older than Jun-ho, drama and alcohol, I haven't corrected this yet and english is not my first language, sorry if there are any mistakes!
Hwang Jun-ho x fem reader
The sound of the music was muffled by the walls and far from your ears, the smell of cigarettes mixed with masculine perfume was a completely intoxicating weakness to your nose.
Your mind was in a whirl and barely had your ideas clear, but what you were sure of was that you didn't want to separate yourself from the owner of that delicious aroma, a boy taller than you had you against the wall kissing you with need while his hands explored your body.
Your mind pieced together the puzzle of your memories as you let yourself be kissed by this handsome man, your best friend In-ho had graduated from the academy so you invited him out for some drinks to celebrate, he and you got along very well, almost like brothers for five years.
However, you distinctly remember that he said something about someone not showing up to this little celebration at the bar so he left to meet up with his fiancée, you decided to stay, the night was still young and you needed some fun, from then on the memories are vague but your consciousness landed when you felt this man's hand slip under your skirt and caress your intimacy through the fabric of your underwear.
A gasp escaped your lips and him soft voice made your legs shake.
—¿How about we go to my car? —He whispered in your ear
You would have said yes right away, you didn't know who this stranger was but he was damn handsome and judging by the way he teased you with his touch he knew what was doing.
But you were too drunk now, you placed your hands on him chest and gently pushed away.
—Sounds good but I think have to go home... you know, I have to feed my cat —The words came out slurred and were barely understandable but you thanked heaven that the stranger understood you and moved away.
You adjusted your bag on your shoulder and walked awkwardly towards the exit. It would be a nightmare to take a taxi home, but you didn't want to call In-ho, you knew he wouldn't have a problem going for you, but you didn't want to ruin him special day by not knowing how to control your drinking.
When the cold air hit your bare legs you cursed under your breath, you didn't even have a jacket to cover yourself, with no other choice you started walking towards the subway because at least there you would have company during your trip home.
You had barely taken a couple of steps when a warm jacket fell over your shoulders.
—¿Don't you have someone to take you? —You recognized the voice immediately, it was the same stranger you were kissing a few minutes ago.
—I'll take the train at the station —You said without stopping walking and with him following you.
—It's late and I don't think it's safe to go alone.
Jun-ho noticed your stumbling as you walked and from the way you spoke he was sure that it was not a good idea to let you go alone, he knew the risks and if he could help you he was going to do it.
After he insisted a couple of times you agreed, you didn't know if he was doing it in good faith or if he just wanted to sleep with you, either way, you just wanted to go home and go to sleep.
You gave him your address and Jun-ho drove in silence, luckily he hadn't had much to drink so he had no problem taking the wheel, it was almost two in the morning and the streets were deserted except for a few people who were also going out for alcohol or to have fun, the two of you were driving in complete silence until the black-haired man's cell phone rang.
He answered the cell phone and heard his stepbrother's voice.
—¿Where are you? Mom just called me to see if I was with you, I lied to her to keep her calm.
—I went to the bar you told me about but you had left —He replied calmly, stopping at a red light.
—I thought you weren't going anymore, I wanted to introduce you to a friend.
—¿Was she pretty? —He gave a low chuckle.
In-ho sighed on the other end of the phone, Jun-ho was quite the nova hunter and that's why he wanted to introduce you to him, you were also too flirtatious and rarely looked for something stable, he was sure that both of would get along.
—¿Are you still at the bar? It’s already late —In-ho commented.
—No, I'm going to drop a girl off at her house and then I'll go back to the apartment.
—¿New lover?
—Something like that.
He wasn't going to lie, he liked you from the moment he saw you and he was certainly hoping to fuck you but he wasn't going to do it while you were in this state, he offered to drive you home in hopes of getting your number so could talk to you tomorrow morning.
—Fine, when you get home call mom —In-ho said for the last time before hanging up.
After a few minutes he finally arrived at your house, helped you out of the car and guided you to the door where you clumsily put the key in the lock.
—¿What now? ¿You expect to come into my house and stay overnight? —You asked sarcastically, you didn't expect such a nice attitude without the other person expecting something in return.
But to your surprise he shook his head silently and took a step back.
—I just hope you give me your number.
Curious, you thought, looking at him intrigued, he took out his phone and you added your contact.
You thought he was cute, attractive and chivalrous, it had to be fake, but you went with the flow anyway, making sure you didn't get your hopes up.
To your surprise the next morning you received a call from this guy, you honestly thought he wouldn't but there he was, asking you how you were and what you remembered from the night before.
There was a first date and then a next one, from that day on both went out to the movies, to dinner, to lunch or looked for something entertaining to do, there were stolen kisses, occasional caresses and flirtatious words in your ear but he never got into your bed, that excited you too much because you realized that his intentions went deeper than skin deep.
—He’s so cute —you sighed as you and In-ho shared an afternoon of movies and friendly conversations —He's attentive, he opens the car door for me and every time we see each other he tells me I look pretty.
In-ho laughed out loud.
—¿Who could be that unfortunate man who ran into you? —He joked, throwing popcorn in your face.
—¡Shut up! I'm going to be different with him.
Once again, In-ho laughed loudly, eliciting a groan of irritation from you.
Yeah, maybe you were a total slut sometimes, you'd flirt with guys and then dump them when you got bored but this time it would be different, Jun-ho touched your heart like no one else ever had.
Jun-ho was in the same situation as you, he also knew what kind of jerk he had been for the last two years but he wanted to change and was going to do it with you but In-ho didn't believe him at all.
None of the three of them knew how small the world was and that when In-ho found out there would be serious problems, with him because you were his best friend and with you because him were his younger brother.
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winisayswhat · 1 month ago
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kofi
Masterlist
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Left to right
PILE 1
I don’t have all the answers right now, but I trust that clarity will come with time.
I may not be where I want to be yet, but every step forward still counts.
I am allowed to feel tired, but I will not let exhaustion define me.
Setbacks do not mean failure,they are just part of the process.
Even on my hardest days, I am still showing up, and that is enough.
Faith does not require me to see the entire path, only to take the next step.
It’s okay if things aren’t perfect. Progress is still progress.
I am resilient, even when I feel uncertain about the future.
I don’t need instant results to believe that my efforts will pay off.
As long as I keep going, I am never truly stuck.
Like, reblog and comment .
I offer paid readings.
kofi
Masterlist
════════════════════════════════════ ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .   ︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶
Pile 2
It’s okay to feel lost sometimes. I won’t feel this way forever.
I don’t have to force things to happen. The right opportunity will find me.
Even if I don’t know what’s next, I know I’ll handle it when it comes.
I’ll look back one day and realize this time was necessary for something better.
I trust that life has a way of working out, even if I can’t see how yet.
I don’t have to figure everything out right now. It’s okay to take my time.
Just because I don’t see the path yet doesn’t mean it’s not there.
Things will fall into place when they’re meant to. I just need to keep going.
I trust that I’m exactly where I need to be, even if it doesn’t feel like it yet.
Even if I feel lost, I’m still moving forward in ways I don’t yet realize.
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I offer paid readings.
kofi
Masterlist
════════════════════════════════════ ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .   ︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶
Pile 3
I may be moving quietly, but my success is making noise where it matters.
Every small step I take is building something incredible, and I’m proud of myself.
I don’t need to rush,my journey is unfolding exactly as it should.
I am becoming the kind of person I once admired, and that’s beautiful.
Hard work, patience, and faith are my secret weapons.
I am unstoppable.
I am planting seeds of success, and soon, they will bloom into something amazing.
I trust my process.
I’m not just workingI’m building my future.
People may not always see my effort, but my results will speak for themselves.
I am proud of how far I’ve come, and I know even greater things are ahead.
I am silently becoming the best version of myself, and that’s powerful.
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I offer paid readings.
kofi
Masterlist
════════════════════════════════════ ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .   ︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶
Pile 4
I walk alone, not out of necessity, but because solitude sharpens my vision.
My silence is not emptiness, it is intention, control, and understanding.
I do not seek validation,my path is carved by my own hands, not by approval.
I trust the weight of my instincts more than the noise of the world.
Strength is not found in numbers but in the unwavering certainty of one’s own presence.
I am unmoved by others opinions.
My truth does not need to be understood.
I do not chase recognition.
I embrace solitude, not as isolation, but as a sanctuary for my growth.
My energy is not easily accessed. It is earned, not given.
I walk forward with quiet resilience, knowing that the path meant for me will never require me to shrink.
Like, reblog and comment .
I offer paid readings.
kofi
Masterlist
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