#IS HE. just trying to get home?????? not bring back the empire?

[kingofattolia]

showing up several days late with starbucks only to find out that the damp dishrag whispery mindless villain Thrawn characterization I was worried about manifested exactly

[absurdthirst]

Love Across Lifetimes {Marcus Acacius x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 20.8k

Warnings: War, death, kidnapping, attempted escape, nudity, voyeurism, attempted assault, violence, hand jobs, oral sex (female receiving), loss of virginity, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, pull out game is strong, imprisonment, death by beheading, reincarnation, oral sex (male receiving), happily ever after

Comments: Sent to retrieve Caracalla's bride, General Marcus Acacius finds that you never agreed to marry the emperor. Falling in love with you on the journey back to Rome and discovering how dangerous that love could be.

A/N: Written before I saw the movie on Friday but just couldn't get it edited until now.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Marcus Acacius MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“I am getting married.” Caracalla announces suddenly, surprising his generals as they crowd around the table that has the map of the empire laid out. “Congratulations, highness.” Marcus secretly feels sorry for whatever maiden has been coerced or picked to marry the spoiled ruler, but he nods respectfully. “We had not been aware that you had arranged a union.” 

Caracalla grins. “That is why I need you, General Acacius.” He explains, pointing to a small kingdom on the edge of the Roman Empire. “My future empress is far enough away that I need you to fetch her.” He tells him. “Give her a proper escort to Rome.” 

Marcus frowns slightly as he wonders what games the man is playing but it comes off as thoughtful instead of disrespectful. “Then I will gather my men and bring your bride to you.” He agrees, trying to imagine the spoiled, haughty girl that wants to be the empress of Rome.

****

You growl as your arrow misses the target. You’ve been training every day but you are still learning how to fight. Your father wants you to be prepared to defend your people when you become queen once he passes. Your instruction adjusts your arms, “you must concentrate. Your mind is not focused.” He murmurs and you narrow your eyes, focusing on your aim after you reload and you release, the arrow hitting its target. You grin, pleased with yourself, when you hear the horns. Soldiers come rushing towards you, “we must get you somewhere safe, Princess. The Romans are here.” Your eyes widen, “here? Why - why are the Romans here?” You ask, stumbling as they escort you inside and the battle begins outside to protect you and your kingdom from invasion. 

****

Marcus wipes his brow, his skin covered in blood as he fights the men of this kingdom, knowing what his goal is, but they fight to protect their home. Why they fight when he was here to escort the princess to Rome, he doesn’t know but he had no time to ask when they attacked. He hears a battle cry and spins, swinging his sword to behead the man, his head rolling on the ground and Marcus’s chest heaves as the last of the men fall. He has won. Now, it’s time to meet the king and his daughter. The real reason he’s here.

“Do not cry, daughter.” Your father wraps his arms around your body to try to comfort you. He knows he will die, his army has been defeated by Rome and now the leader of that army will bring his head back to the emperor. “Show strength to our enemies so that they may know that we are not afraid.” The doors to the throne room are pushed open and a Roman soldier strides in, his walk confident yet weary. Covered in blood and dirt, he had not bothered to stop to clean up, eager to get this unpleasant task over with.

Marcus stands tall and watches you cling to your father. He says your name and your father frowns, “why do you want her? Surely my head is enough to satisfy the emperors.” Marcus frowns, “they informed me that she is to be empress to Caesar Caracalla. I thought this deal was arranged.” 

Your father scoffs, “then why would my men fight?” He reasons and Marcus tilts his head, “I am following orders. She must come with me to Rome.” 

Your eyes widen, “no. No. I will not. Father. Please.” You beg and he shakes his head, cupping your cheek, “be strong, daughter. Remember your training. Remember who we are.” He orders and nods to his men to grab you so he can step forward. “No! No!” You cry and your father kneels down before Marcus, “do what you must but know that I will curse the Roman Empire and her emperors.” He warns and Marcus swallows harshly, withdrawing his sword. “Make it quick.” Your father orders and you bury your face in the chest of the man holding you so you don’t see your father beheaded.

Marcus sighs as he lowers his sword. “I will not spill the blood of my future empress’s father.” He declares. The king is old and does not have too many years left, it is better to show you the mercy of Rome. Most of his soldiers are dead. “Your daughter will rule the world”, he tells the old man before he turns towards the man holding you. “Have her belongings packed and give them a few minutes to say their goodbyes.” He instructs, cursing Caracalla for what he has done. This is not a retrieval of a bride but a kidnapping.

You pull away from the men holding you, scrambling to kneel down next to your father and pull him close. You wrap your arms around him and he kisses your head, knowing he has no choice but to let you go. Your maids rush around to pack your things and soon, they are being loaded into the carriages that the Roman General brought to the palace. “You need to go.” Your father says and you shake your head, “no. No. What if - I do not know the emperor. He must be cruel. He must be, to have sent his army to destroy our people.” You choke, tears in your eyes. 

“Men may think they rule the world but they do not. It is women who are smarter, emotionally stronger. They manipulate the men to do their bidding. Be like them. You may marry a man you do not love but you will be Empress of Rome. You will have power. Power is stronger than love.” Your father murmurs and wipes your tears away. “Be strong, daughter. Rule the world.” He orders and you nod, glancing over his shoulder to where the general waits for you. 

“I love you.” You murmur to your father, knowing you’ll never see him again. “I love you too.” Your father nods, not letting you see how his heart is breaking. You try to step back but you don’t let go. Clinging to your father until the Romans step forward and grab you, dragging you away with a cry. You are carried onto a horse, the general swinging on behind you, and you sob as you are taken away from the only home you’ve ever known.

Marcus lets you cry, not bothering to offer you any platitudes or false words of comfort. He had just destroyed your home and stolen you away because his emperor wanted you. He’s sure Caracalla purposefully didn’t inform him that there had been no agreement, which angers him. Many good men had died for nothing. Marcus hands you a somewhat clean linen to blow your nose as he guides you farther and farther away from your home.

You don't say a word as you take the linen to blow your nose. You remain silent, refusing to give the General your voice as company while he begins the long journey back to Rome. Hours later, Marcus orders his men to set up camp when the sun starts to disappear beyond the horizon and he dismounts his stallion, holding his hands out to help you but you huff and kick his hands away, swinging your leg over to land on the ground with skills beyond a Roman woman. You have been raised around horses, taught to ride from a young age.

Marcus raises his brow at your stubbornness, secretly admiring it, but he knows that means you will cause trouble. He turns to his page and says, “have a bath prepared, I need to clean up, but allow our guest to bathe first.” He instructs. “She will be your future empress, so treat her with respect.”

You cross your arms and stubbornly stand there while his men work on setting up his tent and grabbing the tub that was carried on the cart at the back of the militia to prepare for you. You watch Marcus speak to his men, his body covered in the blood of your people and you clench your jaw. You don't wish to be empress to murderers, pillagers...monsters. You glance around, his men are busy and you see the horses are loosely tied up while they set up camp. You decide to take a chance. You run to the General's horse, swinging your leg over his back as you jump onto the horse, grabbing the reins to take off from the makeshift camp.

Marcus is talking to one of his men when he sees you jump onto the horse, his horse. “Shit!” The men start shouting and running towards you, spooking the other horses and causing chaos. He takes a second to admire your form, your ease in which you command the arrogant horse. Even if it’s no use. While his men scramble to stop you from escaping, Marcus plants his feet and sticks two fingers in his mouth. Emitting an ear piercing whistle that immediately makes his horse’s head rear up and change the direction he was running. Coming back to his general because he has been called.

You try to stop the horse, but he makes his way back to the general. You scramble off of him, jumping and falling into a heap. You hear footsteps towards you and you try to stand up, attempting to run but your arms are grabbed and you are pressed against the general. “Do not make another move, Princesa.” He growls, his knife pressed against your neck as his arm wraps around you and you hiss, sweat on your brow and you stop struggling, slumping in defeat.

Marcus hates how you look crumpled and broken, but he needs you to cooperate with him. Once you get to Rome, you can cause Caracalla all the headaches you wish, you will be his problem. Marcus just needs to deliver you to him safely. He softens slightly, pulling the knife away but he keeps his arm around you. “I don’t want to chain you up, but I will.” He threatens softly. “I would rather you make this easier on both of us.”

You nod, knowing you have no chance of trying to escape again if you are chained up. “Fine.” You murmur, inhaling deeply when he lowers his arms and his men gather around the horses, one of them taking the stallion back to the group. You are soon escorted into a tent, a bath full of hot water awaits you and you glance around at the soldier, “I will not strip with you standing there.” You declare with your chin raised up, “send a woman or leave me be.” You order and the soldier hesitates but steps out of the tent to speak to his superior.

Marcus sighs and dismisses his man before pulling the flap back and stalking into the tent. “There are no women here.” He tells you, making you snort. “I’ve seen the women.” You huff, crossing your arms and he frowns. “The camp whores.” He tells you bluntly. “Women who travel with the army to fuck my men. That is the kind of woman you wish to attend you?”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head. You’ve heard about the women of the night and their services but you know they are hungry for coin, for status, for power. He watches you shake your head, “then you will have to strip with a guardian. I cannot allow you to be alone since you’ll try and run again.” He says and you scoff, “you want me to display myself in front of your men? They will take what does not belong to them.” You spit and Marcus sighs, “then allow me to stand guard. I will turn my back.” He turns around to allow you modesty and you huff, unsure of when your next bath will be so you reach for the clip that holds your robes together, letting them drop to the floor, unaware that a mirror is in Marcus’s eye line.

He had meant to be true to his word, to allow you privacy, but the movement in the mirror had made him instantly tense. Anticipating an attack. Only to find your dress falling from your body and your beautiful tits on display to him. You are gorgeous, like one of the goddesses. He can see why Caracalla would send him to retrieve you for his own. He would want you, if he were in a position to have you. He clears his throat and looks away, only to be drawn back to the vision when you turn around to step into your bath.

You sigh as you sink into the water, not as hot as you like it but beggars can’t be choosers when you are facing your entire world being turned upside down. You see how tense the General is as you reach for the oils, bathing yourself with a soft hum. You want to show him you are unbothered by his presence.

Marcus keeps looking away and then finding his gaze coming back to the mirror. Watching as you slowly go through your bath. It’s incredibly sensual and his cock twitches under his tunic and armor. He has been a long time without a woman, and you are gorgeous with the fiery spirit Marcus likes.

You wash yourself, making sure you are clean for the arduous journey ahead and you stand up, reaching for the linen to wrap around yourself to dry off and Marcus is still turned away from you. You glance around, “I have nothing else to wear. I will need to redress.” You say and Marcus shakes his head, “there are tunics in the trunk. Mine but you’re welcome to one.” He says and you huff, walking over to open the trunk. You drop the linen to pull the tunic over your head.

It’s jarring to see you, to see any woman in his clothes, but Marcus grunts as he turns towards you. “Now I need to clean up.” He tells you, expecting you to demure and turn away so he can clean the dirt, sweat and blood off his skin and change into clean clothes.

You sit down on the chair that faces the bath and you stare at him, challenging him to strip off in front of you. You won’t shy away and give him the advantage even if he gave you the same courtesy. You want to irk him. Get inside his head. That’s your ticket to escape.

He watches you with a frown for a moment, but you just arch your brow and he snorts. Reaching for the thick leather ties of his chest plate to start stripping off the protective gear.

You watch the general that has stolen you from your home strip off. He’s strong, that’s evident in his form, but with each piece he removes, you see how war hardened he truly is. The deadly strength in his form has you shifting in your chair and when he pulls his tunic over his head, your throat goes dry at his exposed figure. His cock flaccid and you hate how your stomach twists at the sight of him.

He’s grateful that he’s got enough self control that his cock isn’t hard. You act like his body doesn’t affect you and he pretends like it’s nothing to be naked in front of you. “There are guards outside the tent.” He warns as he grabs his own linen and strides over to the bath, eager to clean up.

You roll your eyes at his warning and watch as he gets into the water, blood immediately turning the water red. You swallow at that. The blood of your men swirling in the water. “Is the Roman army always so brutal?” You ask, watching him wash the blood from his skin with the cloth that he grabbed.

“Your men attacked us.” Marcus reminds you. “We believed that we were simply fetching the emperor’s intended bride.” He sighs softly. “When they attacked us, we had no choice but to fight back, believing we were being drawn into a trap.” In truth, he regrets the bloodshed, and would have avoided it if he had known you were unaware of the emperor’s claim on your hand. “I don’t like killing needlessly.”

You swallow harshly, tears stinging in your eyes at the deception. Either by him right now or by the emperor you are intended to marry. “I never agreed to marry your emperor. I have never met him. What is he like? Is he cruel?” You ask, knowing some leaders can be too obsessed with themselves to do what’s right for their people.

“Sometimes.” Marcus tells you honestly. “He - has whims that drive him.” He knows that you could tell Caracalla and he would be angry at his general, but he also needs him to win the wars and claim the territories that he craves. “He will not like you running from him, he is used to being publicly adored.” He snorts, knowing how most really feel about the ruler.

You scoff and roll your eyes, “he sounds like a true Caesar. Self absorbed and focused on his own whims instead of helping the Romans achieve greatness. There’s no greatness in the vastness of the empire, there’s greatness within their people but from stories I have heard, they are starving. Taxed to their eyeballs and looking for salvation from anyone but their emperors.”

Marcus doesn’t confirm your comments, although they are true. “Then perhaps you as her empress can bring comfort to the people.” He tells you, continuing to wash. The water is murky now, but he feels better. He just needs to wash his back and his hair.

Your lip curls at the thought of marrying the emperor. You’ve heard rumors about him and his twin brother. How they make rash decisions based on emotions. “Perhaps I shall arrive and the emperor doesn’t deem me beautiful enough for his hand. Or maybe I will be too dumb. Or untameable. These are all things he should consider when picking a wife, no?” You tilt your head and look at the general’s back.

“You would think.” Marcus mumbles under his breath. “The emperor is very certain in his choices once he has made them.” Until he decides against them. He doesn’t tell you that, knowing it would be unfair to give you false hope. Caracalla wants you, so he will have you.

You huff, “I don’t know why he picked me. My lands are not conquered. My father will delegate someone to inherit the kingdom. I have nothing to offer.” You confess and Marcus grunts as he tries to clean his back. “

“I cannot claim to know what the emperor chose you.” He huffs, knowing he should have called his page into help. His muscles are sore from the fighting and he is not as limber as he might have been. He needs help to wash his back.

You see his struggle, your eyes glancing down to the knife that lays on the floor by the tub, clearly left there for him to use if needed. You see your chance. “I can assist you, General.” You say and stand up, kneeling next to the tub. He eyes you cautiously but hands the cloth to you. You grab the knife with your other hand and lean closer, starting to wash his back with the cloth. You see him relax slightly and decide to strike, dropping the cloth and bringing the knife up at the same moment.

Marcus reacts quickly, grabbing your wrist and squeezing it. “You want to kill me?” He growls, scowling at you. “Do it when you’re the empress.” He tells you. “Until then, remember that I hold your life in my hands.”

You drop the knife and he catches it with his free hand, placing it on the other side of the tub. “You’d never escape without my men delivering you to the emperor. They are on orders to take you there even if I’m dead. You’ll be delivered to the emperor. Dead or alive.” He warns even though he knows it would be his head if you are delivered dead but he won’t be looking over his shoulder the entire journey home. “Fine.” You hiss, “you’re a bastard.” You growl and he chuckles, “nothing I haven’t heard before. Now, you were washing my back?” He reminds you, handing you the cloth. You roll your eyes and continue washing his back, knowing you’ll need to make a new plan.

He can hear you fume and plot needlessly as you roughly swipe the linen over his skin. “It will take us several weeks to get back to Rome.” He reminds you. “I would rather this be a pleasant trip.”

His tone makes you clench your jaw but you know you can’t run yet. You decide to focus on your survival and you know the General is key to that. You clean his back, your eyes trailing down his chest to take note of the scars and blemishes on his skin. “You have been fighting a long time.” You observe, “you must be weary.”

Marcus hums, knowing that he is weary of war and watching men die. One day he will fall on the field of battle and his fight will be over. “It is a heavy burden to watch men die.” He tells you. “Or be the cause of their death.”

You nod, seeing the haunted look in his eyes, and you are taken back by it. You had heard about the General, whispers from men who returned from far away lands that the General was lethal but right now you see a man who is tired of war and tired of death. “I can only imagine the things you have seen.” You hand the cloth back to him now that his back is clean and you reach for the oils, deciding to help him wash his hair. Perhaps you can win him over with kindness.

“My hope is that because I have seen them, my children will not have to.” He murmurs, even though he has no children. He sighs and shakes his head. “It does not matter. Wars will always be fought.”

You pour the oils into your palms, rubbing them together and you slide your fingers through his strands, your fingertips turning red as you wash his hair. “War will always be a man’s game. If women ruled the world, there would be no war. Simply silence.”

“Women are smarter than men.” Marcus’ eyes slide closed as he leans back. “I have always thought so. You might not have the strength that I do, but you think differently.” He chuckles.

You smirk, picking up the jug to rinse his hair, “women have their power between their legs. Men’s weakness is between their legs.” You say and Marcus snorts, closing his eyes as you slide your fingers through his hair.

“My father - he’s a good man. I- I want to thank you for sparing his life.” You murmur, admiring the general up close. He has lines on his face but he’s handsome. “Do you have a wife? Children? Back in Rome?”

“No.” Marcus’s brow pinches together for a moment. “My wife died in childbirth many years ago.” He hasn’t talked about Marcella in a long time, but he feels like he owes you a little bit of himself after all he’s taken from you.

Your stomach drops and you find yourself feeling sorry for him. “I’m sorry. No words can ever take away the pain I imagine you must feel.” You whisper, finding a vulnerable part of the war hardened General.

“They are running through the Elysian Fields, waiting for me.” He murmurs. “Or with the gods.” He sighs. “Or just gone. I don’t know. But it was a long time ago.”

“I am certain they are at peace, waiting for you. You shall die in bed knowing they are there waiting.” You say and he shakes his head, “I shall die on the battlefield. Killed by a man my junior. I have accepted my fate.” He murmurs and you sigh, “and I will not accept mine.” You withdraw your hands from his hair and grab the linens for him to dry off. “I am tired and hungry. I wish for your men to bring me a tray.”

He cracks an eye open and watches you. “I cannot have you telling Caracalla that you were starved on the journey to Rome.” He snorts before he grips the sides of the tub and heaves himself up with a groan. Water sluices down his body and he steps out of the tub onto the carpets lining the floor of his tent. Taking the linen with a nod of thanks, he quickly dries himself off and wraps the cloth around his waist to move to the tent flap and opens it. “Bring food and wine.” He orders one of the guards. “Enough for me and our guest.”

Your eyes follow his form, the muscles in his back moving in a way that has your throat dry. You need wine. That’s all. Yet why did you find yourself wanting to strip the linen from his waist and see more of him? “Thank you.” You murmur, certain that his men are whispering. “You will need to be careful. I’m sure you do not want your men spreading rumors that you are nude and in a tent with the future empress. The emperor will not take kindly to not having a pure bride.”

He lifts a brow, amused and confused by your worry of his own safety. “I thank you for your concern.” He nods as he moves over to the trunk you had pulled a tunic out of to get his own. “Although I doubt Caracalla will believe that I seduced you.”

You raise your eyebrows, “and why is that? You are too loyal to your emperor to imagine you committing such treason? Or am I not pretty enough for the revered General Marcus Acacius?” You scoff, wondering why he is so loyal to his Caesar when it’s clear he is weary.

He snorts and shakes his head. “You misunderstand.” He tells you. “I am old, scarred.” He gestures to his body. “Not young or handsome, rich or powerful.” He doesn’t bring up his rank, because you don’t seem like a woman who would care about a generator. “Caracalla would believe that I was too unappealing to seduce someone of your beauty.”

His answer makes your stomach lurch and you stand up, walking over to him. He puffs out his chest, prepared for your attack, but instead, you slide your hand down his covered chest. “You are not old. You are experienced. You have wisdom. And you are handsome. Weathered but I guarantee you any woman would eagerly slide into your bed. Do not discount yourself, general. You are appealing. You could seduce if you wanted to.” You pull your hand away, “Caracalla sounds like a fool if he believes otherwise.”

Marcus knows you are trying a new tactic and he frowns slightly. Your words make his body tighten in need but he doesn’t reach for you. “Perhaps I appeal to some.” He concedes, stepping away from you and reminding himself that you are trying to escape. “I am not worried about who would want me in their bed.”

You frown when he steps back. You may have been trying to form an escape plan but you genuinely mean your words. You sigh and make your way over to the chair just as his men bring in food and wine. You are starving and you should wait to see if Marcus eats first but you highly doubt he’d poison you when his job is to deliver you to the emperor.

He thanks his men and pours two large cups of wine before handing you one. “Drink.” He murmurs softly. “It has been a long day for you and you will make yourself sick if you do not drink and eat.” The sadness that had made your heart hurt has now been replaced with a fiery glow and he has to admire it, even if he needs to squash it. The men carry out the tub silently and he sits down on the bed since there is not another chair. He will have to have one brought, but for now, he will give it to you.

​​You know you can’t starve yourself in protest, you’ll need your strength if you want to attempt an escape again. You pick up the cup, taking a sip and you have to admit the Romans know their wine. You look at the meat and cheese on offer, taking some in your free hand and you chew on it, watching Marcus as he sits on the bed. “Will I have to share the tent with you?” You ask and he snorts, “I cannot have you running off again.” You nod, strangely feeling safer being in his tent. You know his men would likely take advantage of you on your own. Men at war are monsters, and you feel better knowing the General whose head depends on delivering you safe to his Emperor, is the one sharing your tent.

Marcus relaxes as you start to eat. His body is weary and he is tired, but he still watches you to make sure you don’t try to run. “Did you have a man you were to marry?” He asks. “In your land? Is that why you would not want to be empress?”

Your eyes flick up to meet his and you stare at him for a moment. You shake your head, “no. I did not. Many asked for my hand but I wanted to learn as much about my kingdom as possible from my father, to be the best Queen I could be for them. I was focused on training and politics. Not men.” You confess, “the only man I spent time with was my stallion.” You tease, placing a grape into your mouth.

“A wise choice.” He chuckles and takes a sip of his wine. “Horses are far better than people.” He sighs softly. “For what it's worth, I am sorry that your life has been disrupted and changed.” He murmurs.

It’s clear he genuinely feels that way and you nod, “thank you. I appreciate you being so honorable. A rare trait nowadays.” You sigh and he nods in agreement. You continue eating in silence until it’s time to sleep. “Will I be sleeping on the floor?” You ask, seeing one bed and nothing else for you to lay down on.

Marcus shakes his head. “You will sleep on the bed, with me.” You huff and he lifts a brow. “I will not touch you, except to make sure you do not try to escape.” He tells you. “Would you rather be tied to the bed so I can sleep?”

“I didn’t know you were that way inclined, General.” You tease, knowing that having an attitude won’t get you anywhere. You sigh and make your way over to the bed. “If we are to be sharing a bed for weeks, I pray you do not snore.” You slide under the sheets and turn on your side, not wanting to watch him as he settles in.

Marcus sets his cup down and kneels in front of a small altar he has set up for the gods. Lighting the incense to burn through the night for the souls that had been lost today in battle. He closes his eyes and murmurs a prayer. “Keep my men safe, allow them to return to their wives and mothers.” He says, like he does every night. “If my life must be the sacrifice for that, let it be done with honor.”

You listen to his prayer and you frown, maybe he isn’t a monster. He is praying for his men to return home safely even if it means his death. It takes you back and you turn to look at him as he stands up from his kneeling position. “You are different from most men, General.” You murmur.

“I will take comfort in your words when you are cursing me for completing my task.” He frowns slightly. “The gods have forced us together and I can only hope that there is a reason for it.” He sees you shiver and frowns, “do you need another fur?” He asks, thinking you might be cold since the temperature is dropping now the sun has gone down. He runs hot so he doesn’t sleep with many blankets no matter how cold it gets.

You nod, shivering under the sheets and he grabs another fur from the trunk, placing it over you, and you watch as he slides under the sheets beside you. “Goodnight, princesa.” He murmurs and turns his back to you after blowing out the candle next to the bed. You watch him as he relaxes and you close your eyes, sleep finally taking you after a traumatic day.

Marcus stays awake for a long time, listening as your breathing evens out and he sighs. “Damn you, Caracalla.” He curses softly, knowing that he would have never fought your people if he had known you were never in agreement to marry the emperor. Guilt swirls in his stomach and he wonders what the other man will do with you once he has his prize.

You awake with a start, confused by your location until you realize where you are and what happened. You blink and your lower lip trembles but you refuse to cry. You wake up a little more and realize you have shifted in your sleep and you are curled into the chest of the General, his arm under your head, and you gasp at the way you somehow curled around each other during your slumber.

Marcus is awake, he has been for hours but he refused to move when you were nestled up against him and sleeping peacefully. “Sleep deep, princesa?” He asks, his voice rough with disuse.

You immediately shift away from him, sitting up, and you’re flustered. You had liked how it felt in his arms and that scares you. “I- I’m sorry.” You choke out, shifting away from him.

“Do not apologize.” He murmurs, missing the feel of your body against his. “It is natural to seek out comfort when you are vulnerable.” He sighs. “Even if you would not when you are awake.” He groans as he shifts to sit up. “Come, I will have water brought for you to clean up and give you a moment of privacy for you to use the pot.” He motions over to a screen that he had ordered set up for your comfort when nature calls.

He’s considerate and that takes you back. “Thank you.” You murmur and he nods, shifting to stand up with a groan. You watch him leave the tent after putting on his sandals to get his men to bring water and you use the pot during his absence. His men bring water and you clean off behind the screen and Marcus returns with food and drink. It takes a while for his men to pack up camp but Marcus looks at you when you stand by his stallion. “I’d offer you a hand up but I know you are more than capable.” He says and you chuckle, reaching for the saddle to swing yourself up onto his stallion, wearing a new tunic from his trunk.

Marcus tries not to stare at your legs, his tunics much shorter than the dresses you have undoubtedly packed away in your things. Instead of saying something, he takes his cloak off and drapes it over your legs for warmth and privacy. “My men are not used to seeing such a beautiful woman.” He explains so you do not take offense before he pulls himself up behind you and takes the reins.

You scoff, “no need for flattery, General, I am willingly on your horse. I am not running away.” You lean back against him a little as he flicks the reins to move the stallion forward.

“No flattery, but the truth.” He hums in your ear. “The whore’s fuck them. But you are beautiful, untouched. Legs on display, you will have my men fighting to touch you and then I will have to kill them.”

“To preserve my innocence for the emperor.” You murmur, turning your head and your face is so close to his. Your eyes focused on him as he blindly controls the horse. “Yes.” He rasps and you hum, “you serve your emperor well, General. Many never see loyalty as strong as that in their lifetime. I wonder what would cause you to break that loyalty, make you throw your morality to the wind.”

He doesn’t answer, knowing that you don’t expect a reply. The army moves slowly and there are times that Marcus stops with you to let you attend to your needs before catching back up with the other officers. Many horses come up to him while you ride, asking questions or informing him of different things, but Marcus handles all of them with ease and grace, aware that the road is weary for everyone.

The sun beating down on you has you weary and you find yourself leaning back against the general, closing your eyes, and his arm wraps around you to keep you in place when you fall asleep. He’s spoken to you about Rome, answered your questions, and you have told him about your people, your lands, in between riders offering him questions or information.

Marcus looks down at you and sighs. He should slow the travel down. You are exhausted and he knows Caracalla will be less than pleased if you arrive worn out. He motions for his men to approach and speaks quietly. “We will make camp early every night.” He decides. “It will take longer to get home but the men will be better rested.” He isn’t doing it for the men, but for you. Perhaps by that time, you will have accepted your fate as empress. “Have the scouts find a place to rest for the night.”

Marcus shakes you awake gently when the horse has stopped moving. You gasp, reality hitting you once again, and you fluster, realizing that you fell asleep on him yet again. “I seem to be creating a habit. I’m sorry. You are welcome to wake me any time.” You say and he tuts, “you need your rest, princesa.” You don’t argue and you see the men starting to prepare camp. “I wish to have another bath.” You say and Marcus nods, swinging his leg over the horse and he holds his arms out for you to help you down. This time you allow it, his large hands gripping your waist as you are helped down from the horse and your chest is pressed against his, your head slightly tilted towards his face. “Thank you, General.” You murmur, patting his chest plate and stepping back, hating how your heart pounds at his proximity.

His dark eyes watch you. “You are welcome.” He nods and hands the reins of his horse off to one of the men. “Would you like for one of your trunks to be brought to my tent, or would you like to keep wearing my clothes?” He smirks slightly as he asks, secretly enjoying the way you look in his tunics.

You smirk, “I suppose I should wear my own clothes so you can have your cloak back during the rides.” You tap his chest plate, “I also would like to wear something that reminds me of home.” You murmur and he nods, calling over one of his men to retrieve your trunks. It doesn’t take long for the men to step up camp and you enter Marcus’s tent, grateful to be out of the sun, and you walk over to your trunk to open it, gathering the oils you wish to use for bathing.

The tub is brought into the tent by three men and set in the middle of the space. “We will bring hot water as quickly as it boils.” A young boy of fifteen informs you with a small blush. “The general ordered the water to be hotter than it was yesterday.”

“Thank you.” You tell the boy, knowing his mother must be worried sick about him wherever she is. You know Marcus is speaking to his men and won’t return until you are done with your bath. Two men return with pails full of steaming hot water and you thank them, watching them leave after they fill the tub. You’re just about to remove your tunic when the tent flap opens and one of the men return. “Did you forget something?” You ask and he chuckles darkly, “I wanted to see what the fuss is all about. Why did we lose men to retrieve you as our future empress? You must have a cunt made of gold.” He says and you try to open your mouth but he covers it with his palm, his other hand grabbing your waist to drag you against him. Your training kicks in and you bite down on his hand while elbowing him in the side, making him choke, and you rush out the tent, screaming for Marcus.

Marcus is talking with his men when he hears a scream of his name and instantly knows it’s you. His eyes dart towards the tent even as he draws his sword, lurching forward to race towards you as he sees your figure darting from between the tent and the men, looking behind you with an expression of pure terror. He sees one of his men chasing after you and he would have believed that you were trying to escape again if it weren’t for that scream and that you are racing towards him. When he reaches you, he throws his arm around your waist and drags you behind him roaring the name of the soldier as he plants his feet as a barrier between you and the other man. “What the fuck is going on?”

You cling to him, feeling safe with him in front of you. “He - he grabbed me in the tent. Came back alone and I tried to scream but he covered my mouth. He was - he said he wanted to know why I was chosen as empress. Said he wanted to know if I had a cunt made of gold.” The soldier scoffs, “she’s lying. She tried to escape. Bit my hand when I tried to stop her and she’s a lying cunt.”

“If she was trying to escape, she would not have screamed my name or run towards me.” Marcus growls, furious that one of his men would try to harm you. He points his sword at the man. “Tell the truth now or your death will be slow and painful.” He warns.

The soldier scoffs and rocks on his feet, his eyes narrowed towards you. “As if any man here would deny wanting to feel a virgin cunt around their cock? And the future empress? Fuck the Emperor and his ridiculous wars. We lost men retrieving this bitch. I wanted to see if she was worth the sacrifice.” He confesses, looking around to see if any of the others would back him up.

Marcus waits, giving the men time to speak up and voice their opinions but everyone is quiet. Feet shuffle and leathers creak as they stand and wait for their general’s wrath. He rocks his jaw. “I have lost men for a cause I would never have agreed with.” He admits. “But that is not her fault. And I have never condoned rape.”

The soldier scoffs, “men have taken what isn’t theirs throughout history. We need to remember that. Perhaps the General wants to save her for himself? That’s why he is kept in his tent.” The soldier digs a deeper hole and you step around Marcus. “I never asked to be taken from my home, from my people. I am sorry you lost men, so did I. I never asked for this and I certainly never asked to be taken against my will.” You stand tall, not letting the men see you are afraid.

Marcus lets you speak, knowing that it is your right. “You dared to try to defile the future empress of Rome.” He reminds the man. “Dishonoring your house, your name.” He reaches out and pulls you behind him again and steps forward. “The gods will judge you.” He declares, his sword coming up with a quick swing of his arms and he beheads your attacker without any hesitation. The headless body stands for a moment before collapsing onto the ground as his head rolls away. “Any man who seeks to take what is not his will be given the same.” His voice lifts and his words are stern. He looks back at the body and spits on it before dropping his sword.

You don’t flinch at the sight of the beheaded man. You’ve witnessed worse as the Princess of your kingdom. You never shied away from the horrors of war, knowing that you needed to experience it to lead your men. Marcus grabs your arm but you’re not scared of him as he escorts you to his tent. He releases your arm as soon as the flap to the tent closes and you turn to face him. “I’m sorry.” You spit out, worried that he’s angry with you.

“Did you try to seduce him?” Marcus demands and you hiss in anger. “No! I did not try to seduce him!” You look angry, but he can tell you are being truthful. “Then you have no reason to be sorry, princesa.” He responds quietly. “He made his decision to act like he did and it cost him his life. You did not cause it.”

You nod, knowing he's being reasonable, and you sigh, glancing at the bath. "I would like to bathe now." You say and Marcus has the man's blood splattered on his face. "You need to as well." You observe and he nods, "I will leave you." He says and you reach for his hand, "no. Can you - can you stay? I don't want to be alone." You plead softly and he nods, looking down at your hand. He turns his back to give you your privacy and you undress, sinking into the water.

Rage arms in his veins and he doesn’t dare to look into the mirror right now. Afraid of his own reaction. He hasn’t killed the man because he had attacked the future empress, he had killed him because he had dared to touch you. The possessiveness that is silent in his system is not good and he clenches his fists as he takes several deep breaths to calm himself down.

You slide your oils along your skin and it hits you. A sob escapes your lips as the reality of the past few days hits hard. You have been taken from your home, nearly watched your father be killed, nearly assaulted, and you are to marry a man you've never met. Your emotions run high and you sob, tears dropping into the water.

Marcus hears your muffled sobs and they rip at his heart. “You’re safe, princesa.” He says roughly, thinking you are overwhelmed from your attack. “No one will harm you while I live.”

His words wrap around you and you feel safe with the man tasked to take you. You are conflicted and your sobs calm, inhaling deeply as you wash your face, "thank you, Marcus." You murmur, watching his back as he stands guard.

“And I am sorry.” He confesses softly, feeling more like himself now. He doesn’t turn around and watches the tent flap for any movement outside. His back is tense as he stays turned away from you and you wash quickly, standing up, and you wrap the linen around your form. “You can look now.” You say, certain that he wants to wash off the blood of the dead soldier. “I have oils you can use.”

“Thank you.” He nods his head and starts to strip, not realizing his body is still hard. His cock jutting up in frustration and arousal. He knows you are not looking, so he doesn’t bother to turn away as he strips down.

You turn towards the tub at the same time he’s stripped and stepping in. His cock hard and your eyes widen. You have never seen a man naked like that before and it has your face heating up. “I have - the oils.” You choke, holding them out to him as he sinks into the water.

He sees how wide your eyes are and looks down. “Forgive me, princesa.” He murmurs, reaching out slowly to take the oils. “It sometimes happens on its own.” He confesses. “You don’t need to worry that I will act like the man I just killed.”

You shake your head, “no. No. I know. I just - I’ve never seen - you are beautiful.” You murmur, knowing he wouldn’t hurt you. Whether that’s for the emperor’s sake or yours, you don’t know, but you know he hasn’t harmed you.

His eyes watch you, surprised that you are saying such things to him. At least you don’t fear him. “I am just a man.” He tells you. “Thank you.”

You shake your head, “you’re a good man. You could’ve treated me badly, let your men touch him, maybe even taken me for yourself, but you didn’t. You’re a good man, Marcus.” You murmur, shifting to kneel by the tub.

He shakes his head. “Don’t praise me too quickly, princesa.” He growls softly. “You don’t know what I have thought, imagined.” His fingers curl around the edge of the tub and he looks back at you after looking away.

You frown, tilting your head in curiosity, “tell me what you’ve thought, imagined. Perhaps it will tarnish my opinion of you but I need to know.” You say, knowing you cannot hide from the truth. It’s better to face reality when you are on a journey to marry a man you do not know.

“Touching you.” Marcus confesses. “Taking you, for my own, seizing your innocence and showing you what it is like to have a man between your thighs.” He swallows harshly. “Not to have you as a prize but to experience your fiery passions and see what you could be.”

His words immediately make your stomach twist, your cunt clenching around nothing in a feeling not entirely foreign to you. You shuffle closer, placing your hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. “I had a dream earlier. When I was riding on your horse. The rhythm of the horse and you pressed against me…I imagined you inside me, taking me without anyone knowing.” You confess and slide your hand lower, your eyes watching him for any protest as your hand trails until you are wrapping your fingers around his cock. He chokes, “you don’t-” You shush him, “let me touch you, General. Show me what to do.”

He should push your hand away, refuse you, but he feels frozen in place. His cock twitches in your hand, making the water ripple slightly and you gasp while tightening your grip on him. His hand slowly uncurls from the edge of tub and he covers your hand with his much larger one and he groans softly when he starts to slowly guide you in how to stroke him.

You are fascinated by the look on his face. He looks wrecked already and you love that you are making him feel this way. You squeeze him when his hand tightens around yours, setting the pace he wants.

“You don’t-“ Marcus closes his eyes and pants slightly. “It’s- just like that.” He tells you, knowing that you will do what you like and he’s too worked up to deny you.

You don’t listen to his protest because you want to do this. “You should know by now that I never do anything I don’t want to do, General.” You smirk and continue pumping his cock.

He knows that, he knows it very well. He lets go of your hand and lets you control his pleasure as you stroke. “Admire that.” He grunts.

You feel empowered by the way he groans, withering under your touch. This powerful general is moaning your name and you control his pleasure. It’s intoxicating and makes you wet as you control this part of your destiny. “I know. You are unlike any man I’ve ever known. So strong. So powerful. Yet you don’t abuse your position. I admire that.”

He groans softly. “Real power doesn’t require abuse.” He had  learned that from Marcus Aurelias and Maximus when he was younger and he had never forgotten it.

You continue pumping him, moving your hand a little faster and his hand falls away to grip the side of the tub, his neck elongated when he throws his head back. You can’t help but lean in to kiss the skin there.

The groan he gives you is almost pained, pleasurable in the most gut wrenching way. He says your name again, trying not to rock his hips up as you touch him. “That’s it, princesa.” He praises.

You kiss his neck, loving how you can feel his pulse beneath your lips while you squeeze his cock, instinctively twisting your wrist as you pump his cock. You want him to fall apart for you.

Marcus gasps out your name softly and he feels his body tense. Knowing that he is about to cum, he locks eyes with you.

You look at him, loving the way his lip curls slightly and you pump his cock. feeling it pulse in your grip and finally, he lets out a low groan of your name. Spurts of cum hit the back of your hand and his stomach and you watch him in fascination and arousal.

He rides out his orgasm with a groan and reaches down and stops your hand. “Princesa- you have to stop.” He tells you, wondering what you thought of the first time you touched a man.

His plea makes you chuckle and you loosen your grip on his cock, letting it soften against his belly, and you reach for the cloth to wash his skin. “You look so beautiful when you fall apart.” You murmur, caressing his cheek with your other hand.

“I should not have let you touch me.” He murmurs softly. “But there is something about you that makes me reckless.”The emperor would have him killed if he ever found out, but Marcus can’t find it in himself to care right now. “Did you enjoy making me weak?”

You lower your hand and dry your other hand off on the linen, still kneeling by the tub. “I did.” You smirk at the relaxed look on his face, “here are the oils.” You hand him one, “I’m sure you want to clean up after an arduous day.” You say and you offer him a shy smile now that the lust has passed from his eyes.

Marcus frowns for a moment before he takes the oils from your hand. “Thank you.” He should touch you, to give you the same pleasure, but you don’t seem to be wanting it. “I try to be clean when I sleep.” He tells you. “I rest better.”

You nod, shifting to stand up and you grab a tunic from his trunk, letting the linen drop from your body to pull his tunic over your head, letting him see your bare back and ass. You feel his eyes on you and that makes you smirk as you turn to face him while he washes off with the oils you gave him.

He feels like it’s deliberate, you wearing his tunic again. “You like my clothes.” He notices how you show off slightly, twisting as flaunting the shorter hem with a smirk on your face. “And you wonder why I view you as mine.” He snorts.

“They are more comfortable than my clothes.” You confess, brushing down the hem, “and I like that they are yours.” You add, making your way over to his bed to sit down, watching him rinse off and he shifts to stand up, water dripping from his form and you unashamedly drag your eyes down his body. “It makes me think that I’m yours.”

He stares at you for a moment. “I could give you pleasure.” He offers, wanting to touch you. “You would stay pure and still know what it’s like to have a man touch you.” It’s a risky offer, but he wants to have some claim over you right now.

His offer makes your body warm and you arch as he reaches for linen to dry himself off after he steps out the tub. He steps towards you once the linen is wrapped around his waist and you shift to kneel on the bed, reaching for the hem of his tunic to remove it. You pull it over your head and toss it to the floor, “touch me, Marcus. I want to know what it’s like.” You order, knowing you should hate the man who kidnapped you from your home but you want him, he’s unlike anyone you’ve ever met.

His gaze is focused, intense as he admires your body. “You are beautiful.” He growls, eyes roaming from your tits to your thighs, drinking in the sight of the curls that cover your cunt. “Lay back and spread your legs.” He orders. “Close your eyes to start.”

You follow his order, laying down on the pillows of his bed. Your heart is pounding and your stomach twists with anticipation when you spread your legs, allowing him to see your wet folds. “Close your eyes.” He reminds you and you close them, shivering in anticipation.

Marcus comes over to the bed and slides his hand up your thigh and holds your waist while he leans in and presses his lips to yours gently. Kissing you softly for your first kiss and capturing your gasp and sliding his tongue into your mouth when you open up slightly.

You reach up to cup his cheek, unsure of what to do. You’ve never kissed anyone before and you find yourself too eager, knocking your nose against his. He chuckles against your lips and tilts his head, sliding his tongue back into your mouth and you moan, keeping your eyes closed.

You yield to him, giving him a sense of conquest because he knows you would not just give in to anyone. His hand slides up and cups your breast as he breaks off the kiss to move his lips down your body. “Princesa, I will make you moan in pleasure and shake apart on this bed.” He promises right before he wraps his lips around your other nipple as he squeezes your tit in his hand.

You gasp, tangling your fingers in his damp hair while he bites and sucks on your nipple. “Oh gods.” You moan, your cunt clenching around nothing and you love these sensations. It’s more than you’ve ever felt. He releases your nipple with a pop and switches to the other one, making you whimper, your legs spreading wider to accommodate him between your thighs.

Marcus kneels between your spread thighs. Kissing and flicking his tongue against your sensitive nipples and switching back and forth between them. Until your legs are pressing against his hips and your whimpers have become loud. He can smell the arousal from how wet you are becoming and he bites down on your hard nipple before pulling off of it and kissing down your stomach. “Your cunt aches, doesn’t it?” He asks, wedging his shoulders between your thighs and hooking your legs over them. “Throbs?”

You nod, lost in the haze of the pleasure he’s already given you. You open your eyes to look down at him, his dark eyes fixed on your cunt and you whimper again. “It does. I- I need - I don’t know. Your fingers. Anything.” You beg a little, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

“Nothing but my tongue inside you.” He promises, knowing he can’t risk your innocence that way. He knows he can make you cum on his tongue. “Now you can watch.” He smirks. “Watch as I service you, show you what it feels like to have your cunt eaten.”

You watch him kiss your thigh, his breath washing hot over your cunt and you can’t stop the whine that escapes your lips. “Please, Marcus.” He chuckles and grips your thigh, keeping you spread open as he leans in to slide his tongue through your folds. The sound that escapes you is almost inhuman. You’ve never felt the wet, hot glide of a tongue there and it makes you cry out.

Your scent is almost as intoxicating as your taste. Marcus groans heavily as he takes another taste with a swipe of his tongue. Settling in to bury his face in your cunt and devour you completely. It has been a long time since he has tasted a woman and you make him ravenous.

His tongue carves a path no one else has taken and your back arches as the pleasure clouds your mind. You love it. You moan his name and tangle your fingers in his hair, letting him decide how he’s going to ruin you with his tongue.

Marcus focuses on your sounds. Sliding his tongue and flicking it to pull the prettiest sounds from you and repeating the actions when you obviously enjoy it. He loves how you are giving yourself into his care and letting him show you these pleasures. Claiming a piece of you that you could never give someone else because it is his.

Your hips rock up unconsciously trying to chase his tongue but he throws his arm over your waist, keeping you still so he can push his tongue into your dripping cunt. “Oh fuck.” You curse, “Marcus. That - it feels so good.” You almost choke on your words, overwhelmed by the feelings.

He hums against your folds, his nose pressed against your clit as he works his tongue deeper inside you. Feeling the way your walls try to clench down around him and he knows you would feel exquisite around his cock, but he can’t take your innocence.

He works you higher and higher with each swipe of his tongue. His broad shoulders stretch you wide for him to have access to all of you and he sucks on your clit, making you cry out loud enough that you’re certain his men hear you.

Marcus pulls his head away and smirks at you. “Not so loud, princesa.” He coos teasingly. “The men already think I am keeping you for myself.” He dives back into your folds after you slap your hand over your mouth to muffle your sounds.

You love how he’s claiming you like this. You want the men to know you are being kept by him but you understand how that’s dangerous for you both. You feel your stomach twist with a foreign feeling, clenching and your thighs tighten as the feeling spreads until you are moaning into your hand as you fall apart for him.

Marcus continues to suck on your clit, watching you with a possessive gaze and feeling his cock harden again. He can’t take you, but he wants you to enjoy every second of pleasure that courses through your veins. Pulling away when you are whimpering, before it turns to pain, he kisses your clit once more. His mouth is soaked with your juices and he licks his lips. “Beautiful, princesa.”

You whimper, overly sensitive to his touch and you run your fingers through his hair, loving how he looks ravenous still. “I wish you could fully claim me.” You confess breathlessly, “fill me up.”

“I cannot.” He comes up and presses his lips to your softly. “Not because I do not want to.” He promises. “I would not put you in that kind of danger.”

You sigh, nodding in understanding that the emperor would want a pure woman for empress otherwise you’ll likely be killed. You caress his cheek and swing your leg over his, feeling his hardening cock against your thigh. “Do you want me to-?” You ask but he shakes his head, reaching for your wandering hand to bring it to his chest. “No. Let’s rest. We have a long journey ahead of us.” He murmurs and kisses your forehead when you curl into his chest. “Goodnight Marcus.” You whisper and he hums, “goodnight, princesa.”

**** 

Everyday, he pleasures you with his mouth, spending more and more time with you wrapped around him as you muffle your cries. Sometimes even risking touching your clit while you are riding to the next encampment. He talks with you outside the bed, having thoughtful conversations and learning about you. Falling for you. You are sexy and intelligent, far too good for the spoiled emperor, but it is not his decision to make.

You blink as you awaken before Marcus. A rare opportunity. You look at him as he sleeps, the sheets and furs at his waist and his arm is under you, making your heart flutter. You’ve fallen for the man tasked with bringing you to the emperor. He’s strong, brave, smart, and not to blame for your kidnapping. He’s loyal and follows orders but he’s been in your bed, pleasuring you. You see his hard cock, tenting the sheets and you whimper, still wet from your nightly routine of him eating your cunt. You move slowly, not wanting to startle him, and you shift to straddle him. He doesn’t awaken and you smirk, deciding to take action when he won’t. He clearly wants you and he’s too rigid to take what is already his. You shift the sheets down and grip his cock, hovering naked over him, you decide to take your fate into your own hands and position him at your entrance. You sink down, watching his brow furrow as he stretches you out with his cock.

Marcus groans at the pleasure of his dreams, although night spent dreaming of being buried in your cunt. Of filling you until you are round with his child and keeping you. Your weight shifts and you hiss slightly, breaking through his sleep until his eyes open. Marcus grabs your hips, gasping your name as he tries to lift you off his cock before the damage can be done but all he manages is to bury himself deeper as he lurches up. “What have you done? Princesa-“ he chokes out, unable to say anything else as the weight of your actions washes over him. You are no longer pure.

You giggle, bending over to kiss him softly, “I don’t care. I want you. I don’t give a shit if the emperor knows I’m pure or sullied. I will claim I had lovers in my kingdom. He sent you so far away to claim me with no knowledge of my purity. I want you, Marcus. I’m yours. All of me.” You promise, kissing his chin as you adjust to his cock inside of you.

He closes his eyes and sighs softly, hands sliding up your back gently, caressing your spine. “He doesn’t deserve you.” He murmurs quietly. He loves you, he has completely been ensnared by your grace and beauty, your brilliance and your strength. “I am yours, princesa. Completely.”

You grin, pecking his lips, “I love you, General.” You promise and start to move on top of him. “Show me. I don’t - this is all new to me.” You murmur, reaching for his hands to bring them to your hips, wanting him to guide you.

“Does it hurt?” He frowns slightly and you roll your eyes and clench down around him. “No, it feels incredible.” You promise breathlessly. “Good.” Marcus hums. “Riding a man is similar to riding a horse.” He flashes you a grin. “Roll your hips and keep your seat.”

You furrow your brow in concentration and work on rocking your hips like you’re riding a horse. You tense your thighs and moan when the sensation makes your spine tingle. “Oh gods.” You choke, “you feel so big inside me.” You grab his hand to place it on your belly so he can feel himself pressing against your womb.

Marcus growls in pleasure, watching you with dark eyes and tensing underneath you. “You feel perfect around my cock, princesa. So tight.” He rocks his hips up slightly and makes your tits bounce.

You moan when he rocks his hips up and you fall forward onto his chest, your hands pressed against his pecs and you rock back onto his cock. He feels incredible inside you and you love it. He feels like everything you’ve imagined since you started an intimate relationship with him. “Fuck.” You curse, feeling him twitch inside you and he grabs your hips, keeping you still so he can thrust up into you. “Ohhhh.” Your moan is garbled as you let him fuck you and it has your body tensing. You clamp down on his cock, eyes squeezed shut at how good it feels.

He can’t spill inside you. He can’t risk planting his seed in your womb. He plants his feet on the bed and holds you tight. “Cum for me.” He growls. “Cum, princesa.”

His words tip you over the edge, crying out as you collapse against his chest. Cunt spasming around his cock as you soak him. 

Marcus flips you over, needing to be in control so that he can pull out of you when he’s about to cum. Now that you have seen the stars, he starts to hammer into you ruthlessly. Groaning your name as he fucks you.

You watch him, jaw clenched as he fucks into you hard and fast. You are pushed up the bed and the sheets shoved to the floor as he fucks you. You cling to him, scratching down his back as he prolongs your orgasm and you want him to cum for you. “Shit, I need - want to see you cum.”

“Have to- have to pull out.” He pants, neck straining and he grits his teeth. “Fuck.” He hisses, loving how wet and tight you are. How you fit around him like armor. He rocks his hips another half dozen times and when you nip his jaw with your teeth, he’s pulling back. Quickly pulling out of your cunt and throbbing against your belly as he paints your skin with his seed. “Fuuuuuuuck.”

You can’t deny you’re disappointed he didn’t fill you up but you know it’s too risky. Arriving in Rome full of his baby would be a death sentence and you reach between you, pumping his cock to wring him dry with a moan of his name in the aftermath of your pleasure.

Marcus rocks his hips into your grip until every drop of his cum is painting your skin. “I love you, princesa.” He murmurs softly, leaning in and kissing your lips before he shifts off of you to collect a linen to clean you up.

“I love you too, my General.” You murmur, watching him as he carefully cleans your skin. You love him. That much is clear and you don’t know what the days ahead hold for you but you know you must let him go when the time comes. For both your sakes. For now, you’ll enjoy the journey to Rome.

**** 

“Princesa-“ Marcus wakes with a groan as you slip into his bedchambers he has been graciously given until the wedding between you and Caracalla. The emperor had been very pleased with your arrival and had arranged feasts and games in honor of the upcoming nuptials. All arranged to best his brother and to show off the extravagance of Rome. Tonight, Marcus had drank too much heavy wine during the feast, trying to drink his sorrows away since you will be marrying the emperor in two days time. “You should not  be here.” Every night since arriving, you have snuck into his bed and every night he reminds you that this is risky. Even as he is pulling you towards him, he knows he should push you away. You are already naked, having stripped before slipping into his bed.

“I know but I need you, Marcus. We don’t have a lot of time left before I am in Caracalla’s bed. You are dreading marrying the emperor. He’s childish, selfish, and clearly deranged. You do not want to marry him but you have no choice. He’s already threatened you when you pushed back on the wedding being so soon. You straddle him, leaning down to kiss his lips, “take me, Marcus. I want you to claim me. Show me that I belong to you.”

He cannot deny you, not when his own heart aches so fiercely because of your fates. “I love you.” He promises, reaching up and cupping your cheek as he wraps his other arm around you to roll you into your back. “You are mine. I have touched you in ways no other man ever has.”

You look up at him, your heart pounding in your chest, and you ache for him. You want to be in his bed every night. You want to be his. You don’t give a damn about being empress, you want to be his wife. Even without a title. You’re wet for him already, having thought about him all day, and he groans when he slides the head of his cock through your folds.

“Mine, princesa.” Marcus promises with a groan as he starts to push into you slowly. Rolling his hips as he savors the feel of breaking you open again. No matter how often you have had sex, he is obsessed with the way your body gives under the pressure of his cock against your walls.

You take him like you’re made for him and you think you are. You are destined for each other but unable to be together. Star crossed lovers. You throw your head back as he rocks into you, his lips finding your neck and you grip his shoulders, “I love you.” You gasp, wrapping your legs around him.

“Isn’t this sweet?” Dread races down Marcus’s spine as he hears a voice that makes him freeze above you. The voice of his emperor. Twisting his head, he finds Geta smirking as he strolls into the light from a corner of the room. “You love each other.” He hums mockingly, eyes alight with manic glee. “I told my brother that there was something between you, but he didn’t believe me.” Anger flashes across the man’s face before it’s replaced with nonchalance. “Now he will.” He declares before he raises his voice. “Guards!”

You cry out as Marcus pulls out of you and is immediately ripped off of you, guards grabbing him and you try to scramble from the bed but the guards grab your legs, pulling you back and you scream as you are held naked in front of Geta who walks over to you and grips your chin. Your lip curls in disgust and he chuckles, “my brother thought he was so clever, bringing a foreign princess to marry. He hoped you’d be pliable, dutiful, obedient. You wouldn’t be corrupted by the pleasures of Rome but it appears our great General has shown them to you. Taken you as his own despite his emperor’s orders. You’re nothing but a foreign whore.” Geta scoffs and you can’t help it. You spit at him and he hisses, his hand coming up to slap your cheek.

“Don’t touch her!” Marcus barks, but the men who are holding him are not his own soldiers, loyal to him. They are loyal to Geta, to Caracalla. The emperor turns towards Marcus with a raised brow and a smirk on his face. “I believe those were your orders, General.” He snorts. “You disobeyed.”

Your cheek stings but you don't let Geta see you cry, knowing this means your death. You doubt the Emperors will allow this to pass without punishment but you will not be a withering flower. You'll stand strong until the last moment.

“I seduced her.” Marcus confesses, hoping that you might be spared from execution. “Take my life and spare her.”

"No!" You cry and try to move but the guards keep you against them. "No. I - I let him seduce me. I should've kept my legs shut. He's a man. He took what was offered. Take me. Not him." You plead, knowing Rome needs him. They never needed you. Marcus shakes his head and Geta chuckles, his lips pouting, "awwww the lovers want to die for each other. No need. You'll die together. In front of Rome." He promises and looks to the guards, "take them to the cells."

Marcus starts to struggle, shouting at Geta and the men until he is hit over the head with a sword and crumples to the ground unconscious. Dragged away without any consideration as you are pulled out of the room, still naked, to be taken to the cells beneath the palace.

You are dragged down to the cells and you are pushed into one, thrown on the floor without any clothes given to you. You hear the door to the cell next to you open and your eyes widen, knowing Marcus will be there. You wait until the footsteps of the guard fade and you rush up to the door, gripping the bars. "Marcus." You call, hoping he is awake and can hear you, "Marcus."

Marcus groans, head pounding but he hears you call his name again. “Princesa.” He chokes out, stumbling to his feet and managing to make it to the door. His head is bleeding and his eyes can’t focus, but he doesn’t care about that. “Are you hurt?” He demands.

"No. No. Are you okay?" You ask, wanting to hear that he's not in pain. "I'm fine. Nothing I can't handle." He says and you rest your forehead against the bars, "how do we escape?" You ask, hoping he has a plan.

Marcus closes his eyes. “We don’t.” He admits quietly. “My men have been sent home, everyone here is loyal to the emperors.” He sighs. “I failed you, Princesa.”

You choke on a sob, the reality of your fate hitting you and you sink down against the door, resting your back against it. "I wish things were different. We never should have come to Rome. We could've gone back to my lands. You could've been my prince and we - we would get married, have children. We could've - we could've died in old age, in peace."

“Not in this life, my love.” Marcus knows that he must face death with strength, but tears slip down his cheeks for you. “In another life, perhaps.” He closes his eyes. “I will search for you.”

You nod even though he can't see you, "in another life. I'll love you even in death, my General. I'll find you in the next life." You promise, "I'll never stop searching." You sob and before you know it, you hear footsteps from the hall and your heart pounds. "Marcus!" You cry and you back up when the door is pushed open. "It's okay. What are you doing?" He growls when he's pushed back into the cell. "You will bathe and dress. You'll be brought in front of the emperors." The guards order and a tub is brought in, a handmaid bringing your clothes to dress you and do your hair.

Marcus prays that Caracalla has overruled Geta. That he will spare your life. “Do what they say.” He orders you softly. “Do what you must to survive.” He knows his own life is forfeit but if you live, he will die at peace.

You are silent as you dress, preparing to stand before the emperors, and the guards soon arrive to take you away. The door is opened, your hand maid crying which makes your stomach twist, but you keep your head high. You want to speak to Marcus before you’re dragged off so you step towards his door. He’s standing then and you reach between the bars to touch him. “I love you. I don’t regret a thing.” You promise, “I love you, Marcus.” You promise and the guards drag you away, making you cry out as Marcus says “I love you too. Always.” You keep your head high as you’re escorted through the halls until you are taken outside. You frown and that frown turns into panic when you approach a large platform. People gathered in the piazza with the emperors sat down in their thrones. “Ah, welcome.” Geta says your name as you are shoved onto the platform and your hands shake but you grab your robes. Caracalla walks over to you, gripping your chin, “you betrayed me. You let him touch you. I cannot have a whore for empress. I could never confirm my heir is mine. You’ll suffer for your affair. I must show Rome that we do not allow such insolence.” Caracalla hisses and you know that this is the moment you die. You refuse to let them see that you’re terrified and you are pushed to kneel after your hands are tied behind your back. You keep your shoulders back as the soldier pulls his sword from his side and you hear a cry. Turning your head, you see Marcus being dragged to the side of the platform and your strength dissolves. He is to be killed as well. “Ah, General. Please watch. You’ll see what we do to traitors to the empire. Stand there and watch her die. You’ll soon be joining her.” The emperors laugh and you have tears running down your cheeks as Marcus tries to get out of the grip of the five men holding him. “I love you.” You mouth just as the sword is brought down and it all goes black.

“Nooooooo!” Marcus howls in rage as your head is separated from your body and he struggles against the men, breaking free with one hand and grabbing for the swords they carry. Tears sting his eyes and all he can think about is avenging you. Killing the emperors that have ordered your death. “Bastard!” He shouts out, the people silent as they watch the commotion. “She was never yours! She never agreed to marry you! You kidnapped her from her home!” He shouts, wanting the people to know exactly why you had died. How you had been brought to Rome. The soldiers holding him had fallen back after he had grabbed the sword. “She was not yours to claim! She was mine!”

Caracalla raises his hand, telling the soldiers to come forward to surround Marcus as he swings the sword. "I sent for her. She was mine from the moment my soldiers left Rome to find her. She was my key to securing her lands. You had orders and you failed. You fucked her, claimed her as yours, without permission and the gods will punish you. Who wants their emperor to be justified?" Caracalla asks the crowd who cheers, "the people want their emperor to be happy. And you know what would make me happy? Seeing you dead beside her. Traitors in life and in death." He claps his hands and the soldiers move closer to Marcus.

Marcus knows he will die, that is his fate, especially now that you are already walking through the Elysian Fields. Instead of battling the men who have been ordered to kill him, he drops his sword. “Rome will consume you.” He predicts. “She will rise against you and you will fall.”

Caracalla scoffs and Geta rolls his eyes while the soldiers grab Marcus and drag him to the stage. He kneels down, jaw clenched in defiance, and he growls, "fuck the emperors." His last words before the sword comes down and his head rolls on the floor moments later. The emperor grins, reaching down to grab his head, blood dripping onto the floor. "May everyone know that this is what Rome does to traitors. Even a General and a Princess are not exempt from the hand of the law." Caracalla declares and the crowd is silent. General Marcus Acacius is dead. The Roman Empire is crumbling.

**** 

All his life, Marcus has awoken with the knowledge that he has walked these roads before. It had been present every day, even if he could not articulate it. The sense that he had smelled that scent before, or tasted that fruit is always hanging on the edge of his consciousness. The nagging sense of déjà vu that had plagued him. His grandmother had called him an old soul, one who had lived lives before and it makes sense, considering he was named after a Roman general who had betrayed his emperors for love.

You huff as you drag your suitcase up the steps to the hotel your best friend had booked for her wedding. Of course she had to get married in Rome. Her husband-to-be is from the city. She had met him during her semester abroad and now years later they are getting married. You had flown over to Italy to be her maid of honor. You take a break and wipe your brow, your dress taking up a lot of space in your case, and you inhale deeply as you drag your case up the stairs to the entrance of the hotel. "Fuck me." You pant when you walk into the glass door, your brain starved of oxygen after your climb. You hear a chuckle behind you and you groan when a large hand reaches for the door to open it. You hear him ask you something in Italian, and you frown, head hurting, and you try to remember the phrases from the book you bought with you. "I'm sorry. I don't speak Italian." You say as you turn to look at him, and your eyes widen. Your embarrassment has been witnessed by the most gorgeous man you've ever seen.

The second he sees the eyes of the pretty American, he knows that he’s met you before. In some life. It’s the instant quickening of his heart racing in his chest makes him smile. “Why would you come to Rome if you do not speak Italian?” He teases, reaching for your bag to take it for you.

He feels familiar and you wonder why, your heart pounding in your chest and your palms get sweaty as he carries your bag into the cool reception area. "Thank you. And for the record, I have been studying. Piacere di conoscerla." Your brow furrows in concentration and the man smiles at you, making you feel even more lightheaded. He grins, "pleasure to meet you." He replies in English and asks your name. You give it to him and his brow furrows, his stomach twisting. "My father is a historian. He loves Ancient Rome. He has come here many times on different trips for work." You confess, unsure why you are telling a stranger this but it feels like you've known him your entire life.

“Interesting.” Marcus licks his lips. “There was once a Princesa during the reign of Emperors Geta and Caracalla with that name.” He tells you. “Do you know the story?” He asks, wondering if you are here by chance, but he feels like you are not. “The lovers, right?” You ask, nodding and he smiles. “General Marcus Acacius fetched her from her home, stole her - from a bordering kingdom.” He had been told the story so many times as a child he can recite it by heart. “Falling for the strong and brave princesa during their journey to Rome where she was to marry Emperor Caracalla. They became lovers, star crossed, of course.” He frowns slightly, feeling an ache in his heart like he did every time this part of the story was told. “He watched as she was executed by the Emperor’s command after they were discovered but not before they had vowed to find each other in the next life.”

“How tragic and romantic. Put Romeo and Juliet to shame.” You quip and he nods, “their story was told many times during the fall of the empire. If a general wasn’t immune from punishment, then the plebeians certainly weren’t. The uprising began that day and Rome crumbled eventually.” He tells you and you nod, “I hope they found each other in another life.” You confess and tilt your head, “I still don’t know your name.” Just as the words leave your mouth, there’s footsteps down the stairs and your best friend squeals as she rushes towards you. “You’re here!” She hugs you and you hug her back, excited for her and her wedding. “And I see you have already met our best man. This is Marcus.” She says and you look at the man who helped you with your case. You murmur your name, “and Marcus. Like the story.” You offer him a soft smile and he winks at you, turning towards the groom to embrace him with a hug. “Antonio and Marcus served in the army together.” Lucille whispers as you turn to look at the men and you watch Marcus. He’s older than you, but he’s handsome. “And he’s single.” Your friend whispers and you roll your eyes, “don’t. I don’t want to be a cliché.” You whisper back and she giggles, taking your hand to drag you to the reception. She speaks in Italian to check you in and soon enough, a key is placed in your hand.

Antonio smirks as Marcus watches you walk away. “I didn’t tell you her name so it would be a surprise.” He chuckles, knowing how much Marcus enjoys telling that story of the Roman General. Marcus snorts and shakes his head. “I was watching her ass.” He tells his best friend honestly, who laughs. “She’s single.” He informs him. “Marnie made sure to tell me to pass that along.” He grins at Marcus. “I think she’s hoping that our two best friends hook up at her wedding.”

Marcus snorts, “you know I have that thing with Maria.” He says and Antonio rolls his eyes, “where you fuck her and she goes off to date men twice her age for money and she won’t commit? I love you, man, but you know that’s not serious. You want serious. You want the whole package.” Antonio knows his best friend and Marcus sighs, watching you as you walk towards the stairs with your case. “Get her case. Your rooms are next to each other. Marnie’s doing.” The groom holds his hands up and Marcus snorts but follows his direction. “Can I get your bag?” He asks and you nod, “I’m not built for this. We have elevators as big as a bathroom in the States.” You joke and Marnie beams as she looks between you. “Go settle in. We have a welcome dinner at eight and tomorrow it’s a spa day before the rehearsal dinner.” She says and you nod, hugging her before you make your way upstairs, followed by Marcus who carries your case. “What have you got in here? Bricks?” He teases and you giggle, “a girl has to be prepared for anything.” You tease and step onto the floor where your room is. You look at the numbers until you find it, placing the key card against the lock. “Thank you for carrying my case.” You say to Marcus after he places your case down in your room, his chest heaving a little and you get a little lost in his dark eyes. “You’re welcome, princesa.” He teases and your stomach lurches, your heart pounding at the nickname. “Thank you, General.” You tease, reminded of the story. His eyes widen a little and he reaches for his key card. “Turns out I’m next door so if you need anything, just knock.” He says and you nod, “thanks again.” He shuts your door and you slump down on the bed, looking up at the ceiling with a smile on your face. Maybe coming to this wedding alone wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Marcus has already unpacked his tuxedo hanging up and he sighs, feeling restless. He can hear you moving around next door and he decides to go see if you would like to sightsee with a translator. He feels drawn to you and Antonio is right, his arrangement with Maria isn’t satisfying. He needs to know if the connection he feels to you is real. He checks his hair and feels like his stomach is twisting as he knocks on your door.

You had showered and gotten changed into a sundress. The Italian sun is still hot and you are surprised by the knock on your door. You walk over to it, opening it and your heart thumps when you see Marcus standing there. “Hi.” You offer softly and he rubs the back of his neck, “hi. I, uh, I wondered if you wanted to see some of the sights. I know you’re going to be busy with wedding stuff but I have a friend who does tours and I wanted to show you Rome.” Your eyes widen at the gesture and he falters, “or not. If you’re busy.” You shake your head, “no. I’d love to. Let me just grab my purse.” You step back to grab your things and make sure you have your room key then you step into the hall with Marcus.

Marcus smiles as he guides you towards the stairs. “It has been a long time since I have walked the ruins as a tourist.” He explains. “I am an archeologist. So this is my passion and my job.”

“Wow. You know your stuff.” You grin, excited to see the sights with someone who knows so much about the ruins. You make your way downstairs and you adjust your purse on your shoulder as you exit the hotel and make your way down the stairs where you met Marcus. “No need for a gym with these steps.” You joke as you make your way down and Marcus chuckles, “we are a city of walkers but we do have quicker ways to get around.” He guides you over to his Vespa and your eyes widen, “I’ve never - this would be my first time.” You confess and Marcus opens the seat to grab two helmets. “You’ll be safe. I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.” You nod and he places the helmet on your head, buckling it under your chin and you bite your lip at the feel of his hands on your skin.

Marcus feels his skin tingling when he touches you and once your helmet is in place, he smiles as he turns to climb on. “Wrap your arms around me, Princesa.” He instructs. “I would let you ride in front of me, but your pretty dress would fly up.” He’s smirking slightly, but you just nod and take a moment to settle in behind him, the weight of your arms comforting around his stomach. “I will keep you safe.” He promises.”

For some reason, his words warm you to your core and you believe him. He revs the engine and pulls away after kicking the kickstand up and you’re soon riding through the streets of Rome. Your eyes are wide at the sights and you wrap your arms around him a little tighter, letting him take you where he wants to go. You’re happy to be with him, feeling a sense of comfort like you’ve never known before.

American tourists have movies about Roman holidays so Marcus might zip through traffic a little more recklessly than he might have normally. If only to feel you squeeze him a little tighter, turning back to see your eyes wide as you take in the city he loves. Smiling like you are flying through the air. Perhaps a little romantic dreaminess in your eyes, like it’s something out of a fairy tale. He takes you around to all the famous sights. Skirting along the edges of the cars as he makes his way to the best examples of Ancient Rome, his own dig site.

You watch the city pass by until Marcus comes to a stop in an area that’s fenced off from the public. “Are we allowed to be here?” You ask, glancing around as he swings his leg over the bike and helps you over, reaching up to unbuckle your helmet. “We are allowed to be here” is all he says and you trust him as he locks the bike and takes your hand to guide you to the padlock. He pulls the key from his pants and opens it, escorting you inside the restricted area. “What is this?” You ask and he flicks on some of the overhead lamps, showcasing the dig site. “My latest project.” He says and your eyes widen, “wow.”

He watches as you look around curiously, the building had been built to protect the site and he smiles as he motions to the half excavated site. “We are right outside what would have been Geta and Caracalla’s palace.” He explains motioning to the center of the sight. “This area was their piazza, the place where they showed Rome their treachery.” He frowns slightly. “This is the spot where the general and the princesa were executed.” He hops down into the pit, to the stone platform and offers his hand to you to help you down. “Eventually, the people of Rome would have both emperors killed right here as well.”

As soon as he says the words, a sense of dread washes over you and you shiver, your head aching as a flash of a crowd looking up at you hits you. “Are you okay?” Marcus asks and you inhale deeply, nodding as you look at the site. “Yeah. Just - a lot of history to take in.” You confess and take his hand, letting him help you down to inspect the site he had excavated.

He wonders if you feel it, if the icy fingers of dread had inched down your spine. If you remembered like he had. People would think that he was crazy if he told them the truth. “We found the site a year ago.” He murmurs, his voice not carrying very far as he crouches down. “But we have uncovered so much. Look, there is a sword right here.” The first layers of the artifact have been uncovered but removing and cataloging the items had not been possible before he had closed the site for the wedding. His team would not work without him there.

You kneel down beside him, eying the sword that looks so familiar. “Incredible. Did - did you feel that? The dread?” You ask, voicing his question as the feeling hovers over you like this is an area you’ve been to before. “It’s so strange. I feel like I know this place.” You confess and glance down at the sword, “this sword feels familiar but it can’t be. It’s just my mind.”

“I feel it.” Marcus admits quietly, reaching for your hand and guiding it towards the relic. “I want to see something.” He murmurs, hoping you get the same flashback he does when he touches the sword.

Your fingertips touch the sword and you gasp, seeing an image of Marcus but he’s wearing armor, a scar on his face, and he is holding the sword, standing beside two men with blonde hair. “Oh my God.” You choke and he tilts his head, “what did you see?” He asks and you swallow, your throat dry. “You. But - but you’re wearing armor. Ancient armor. You’re standing next to two men with blonde hair.” You reveal, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Princesa.” Marcus murmurs, reaching out and cupping your cheeks as he turns towards you. “I have been looking for you for lifetimes.” He confesses softly. “Always looking, never finding you, until now.” He frowns slightly and sighs. “I was killed, right after you were, right here. Our bodies next to one another.” He sees the confusion in your eyes. “We are fated to be together again, since we were star-crossed so many years ago.”

You are confused, trying to process his words and the images become clearer. You and Marcus knew each other, loved each other, in another life. You can see the love in his eyes despite knowing each other for a few mere hours. You lean closer, “Marcus. Finally.” You murmur, pressing your forehead against his as it all becomes clearer. You have found him. Your love. “This is crazy.” You confess, gripping his wrists but you don’t love his hands, “you don’t even know me as I am now.”

“It does not matter.” Marcus hums. “I know your soul, just as you know mine.” His thumb brushes gently over your cheekbone. “I have waited so long to see you again, to kiss you once more.” All his relationships have never worked because they weren’t you, his princesa.

You can’t believe this is happening but it feels so right, like this is what you’ve been waiting for. All those relationships that fell apart because they weren’t him. You can’t help it. You surge forward to press your lips to his and you immediately feel like you’re home when his lips touch yours. It’s a feeling you’ve never experienced before.

Marcus groans into your mouth, pulling you closer and thanking the gods that he had been right. That he had trusted his instincts. “Princesa,” he growls, sliding his tongue into your mouth and deepening the kiss.

You let go of his wrists and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his body closer to yours. His tongue sliding against yours and you whimper into his mouth, flashes of the time you spent with Marcus in a past life go through your mind and make you fall in love with a man you knew all those lifetimes ago.

Marcus kisses you again and again, learning how you like to be kissed now and it fuses with the memories he has carried for his entire life. Breaking away to look into your eyes as he pants slightly. “I am sorry.” He murmurs softly. “I wish I could have protected you then.”

You shake your head, pecking his lips. “Don’t. There’s nothing you could’ve done. We were destined for death and we are here now. We are safe. We can be together. I- I live in the States and you’re here but…one of us will have to move. I do love pasta.” You confess with a smirk, “and Italian men.”

Marcus chuckles softly and lifts his chin to kiss your forehead. “How do you feel about living in an apartment that overlooks the old city?” He asks. “My place is only a few blocks from here. I’m staying in the hotel because of the wedding party and being the best man.”

“I’d say I better start learning Italian.” You grin, knowing your parents won’t understand your move but you do. There’s no way you’re going to be parted from him now. Marcus chuckles and it warms you. “We should be heading back for the welcome dinner.” He says after he checks his watch and you nod, letting him help you stand up and you glance around the place where you were killed all those years ago. He escorts you back to his Vespa and you are back in the hotel after he speeds through the small streets of the city. He holds your hand as you enter the hotel and you are soon outside your rooms, “I better get ready for the dinner.” You murmur, leaning against him and you kiss his jaw.

“You will look gorgeous, princesa.” He murmurs, turning his head and kissing your lips again. “Although I cannot say you look better than the bride, it will be bad manners.”

You giggle, “no. She will look gorgeous. God, I want to invite you into my room but we don’t have time.” You whine, sliding your hands down his linen shirt, “later. Later I want you in my bed, baby.”

Marcus hums in agreement. “Tonight.” He agrees. “No one will interrupt us. I can relearn how you taste.” He growls, leaning in and nibbling on your earlobe. “I can recall it even now, princesa.”

Anyone who could hear you would think you’re crazy but to you and Marcus, this is very real. You whimper and step back before you allow yourself to give in and forget about the reason that you’re here. You shower and dress in one of the pretty dresses you’d packed for the wedding events, grabbing your clutch, and you hear a knock on your door. You open it and see Marcus standing at your door, looking devastatingly handsome in his jacket with his shirt slightly unbuttoned. “God, this isn’t fair. Do you think they’d miss the best man and maid of honor if we went missing?” You tease, trailing your eyes along his form.

His eyes flash in amusement and even though he wants to push you back into the room and strip you out of the at dress, he extends his arm. “It’s an Italian wedding.” He jokes. “They expect it.” You beam at his offer and immediately step forward and wrap your hand around his arm. “Tell me, princesa, do you still like to ride horses?”

You nod, “I grew up riding horses. Felt instantly drawn to it and now I know why.” You squeeze his arm and he helps you downstairs to the welcome dinner full of family and friends. Marnie and Antonio see you and Marcus, their eyebrows raised as you hold hands and Marnie giggles, “I didn’t think you two would hook up that fast. But it seems my matchmaking skills have surpassed my expectations.” She teases and you grin, looking at Marcus, “it feels like I’ve known him forever.” Marcus winks at you and your friends beam until they are dragged away and Marcus takes you to the bar to get you a drink.

Marcus keeps his hand on your waist possessively as he turns towards the bartender. “What kind of drink would you like, princesa?” He asks, making you smile at the nickname. “Whatever you will have.” He nods and loves how you trust him with choosing for you. “Renato Ratti Barolo Serradenari.” He tells the bartender before he leans into your ear. “It reminds me of the wine we drank while we were traveling to Rome.”

You grin, “we drank a lot of wine during that journey and I seem to remember you drank it from me instead of a cup many times.” You smirk and he chuckles, his hand sliding a little lower, “best way to drink it.” You giggle and the bartender sets your glasses down just as a hand curls around Marcus’s arm. “I’ve been looking all over for you, lover.” She coos, leaning in towards Marcus.

“Maria.” Marcus lifts a brow as he turns towards the statuesque blonde. “I didn’t think you could come?” She had claimed that she was too busy to accompany him, and now she is here when he would want her anywhere else. “My schedule cleared.” Her bright smile is stiff, having been canceled on by her current conquest. It’s frustrating and she needs the comfort of Marcus before she starts her search for a wealthy man to marry again. “Now I’m all yours for the weekend.” She promises, dropping a kiss on the edge of his mouth before turning towards you. “Oh! Who is your little friend?” The first part of the conversation was in Italian, but now she switches to English for your benefit.

Marcus says your name, “she’s the maid of honor and my date.” He confesses, “the love of my life and I will be spending tonight with her. I’m glad you could make it Maria but tonight, I have my princesa.” He squeezes your waist and you lean into him, giving her a smile, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.” You don’t feel threatened, knowing Marcus wouldn’t continue his relationship with her now that he’s found you again.

“The love of your life?” She huffs in confusion, not expecting him to so blatantly turn down her company. “Princesa?” Her eyes narrow. “That nickname you moan every night in your sleep? This is her?”

Marcus nods, rubbing your hip, “it’s her. I have long dreamed of this beautiful creature and now she’s here. I am hers and she is mine.” He admits and your heart thumps, knowing this sounds crazy but you are a love story centuries in the making. You place your hand on his chest, “yours.” You promise and he smiles, kissing your forehead.

Maria is dumbfounded, unable to speak and she turns on her heel and walks away. He pulls you closer. “Apologies, princesa.” He murmurs softly. “I did not know she would show up, but I will talk with her and let her know that we are no more.” He gazes into your eyes lovingly. “No one else could ever capture my interest.”

You shake your head, "it's okay. We didn't even know this was possible until today. I cannot be angry with you for keeping company." You caress his chest, "and we know the truth. Everyone else is going to be confused." You remind him and he nods, knowing that the story is unbelievable. You are soon seated opposite each other at the welcome dinner and you stretch your leg out to caress his while everyone eats their dessert.

His dark eyes meet yours, smirking slightly as you trail your foot up his let and press against his crotch lightly. Despite the centuries apart, you are still bold and have no problem in taking what you want. He reaches down and squeezes your foot playfully while Antonio asks him a question that makes him look away from you.

Marnie grabs your attention, talking to you about the spa session for tomorrow and you half listen, watching Marcus speak to the groom until the bride nudges you. "What's up with your both? It's like you've known each other forever." She observes and you shrug, "it just feels right. Like I was meant for him." You see Marcus wink at you from across the table, caressing your foot. "Good. I thought he was perfect for you." You nod and smirk at Marcus, eager for him.

“Maria looked unhappy.” Antonio observes with a smirk. He’s never hidden the fact that he’s never cared for Marcus’s previous lover so he seems to be thrilled. “Just- don’t hurt her. Marnie will make me hurt you if you do.” He jokes, rolling his eyes, but Marcus snorts. “I would rather cut my own arm off.” He promises seriously. “She is precious and I will keep her heart safe.”

You feel bad but you are eager for the dinner to be over and not soon enough, it is. "Go. Go." Marnie orders when you hug her and you reach for Marcus's hand when you are finally free of maid of honor duty for the night. He smirks, guiding you through the crowd until you are walking up the stairs and you giggle when he slaps your ass.

He is eager to touch you again. To find out if the same things he had done to you so long ago still works. “You have no problem with the stairs now.” He teases, chuckling when you huff and roll your eyes.

You open your clutch, finding your keycard when you reach your door and you moan when he presses against you, his lips finding your neck and his hands on your hips. You lean back against him, tilting your head as you blindly try to unlock the door.

“Princesa, when was the last time you had a man touch you?” He doesn’t care that you’ve had other lovers, he just wants to make sure that he prepares you properly. He twitches against your ass and grinds against you. “Eaten your pussy like it is a luscious desert?”

You whimper at his words, "I had - my ex and I broke up a few weeks ago. It didn't work. I didn't know why but he wasn't you. I've been tested." You reassure him, "no one has ever made me feel like this and you haven't even touched me." You whine and grind back against him, the door finally opening with a beep.

“I’ll get tested.” He promises, sure that Maria wouldn’t give him something, but he will want to give you that reassurance. “This time I can wear a condom.” He guides you inside and spins you around to press you against the door as it closes. “Then I will spill inside you like I wanted to do so many times we were together in that life.”

You moan, "yes. So many times I wanted you to do it. Knock me up and claim me so he couldn't." You confess, your hands sliding up to push his jacket from his shoulders, your fingers immediately working on the buttons of his shirt when the jacket is on the ground.

He holds your chin with his two fingers and tips your head up to take his kiss, pouring himself into the way his mouth slots against yours. Pressing you into the door more firmly as he grabs your ass and pulls you up to allow your legs to wrap around his waist.

You wrap your legs around him and he turns, carrying you over to the bed, your heels dropping to the floor on the journey over and you moan when he lays you down. "I've missed this view." You tease while he shrugs off his shirt, exposing his chest.

“That bed in our tent, covered with furs to keep you warm.” He chuckles. “Although you preferred to wear me at night.” His hands slide under your dress to drag your panties down and peel them off your legs to toss away. “Wearing my tunics.”

You sigh in delight when his hands caress your legs after he tosses your panties over his shoulder. "You loved me in those tunics." You giggle and he nods, "I fucking did." You grin and his hands push your dress higher, "don't tease me, baby. I have waited many lifetimes for this moment."

“Not teasing.” He huffs. “Appreciating.” He reaches under your arm for the zipper to your dress. “We have all night. Nothing to stop us or come between us.” He reaches for the strap and drag them down to expose your tits to his delighted eyes. “Watching you bathe that first time made me ache. Wanted you then.”

You lift your hips so he can drag your dress off your body and you shiver in anticipation. "I would've taken you that night. I hated you for kidnapping me but also thought you were incredibly strong and handsome. I would've let you fuck me but I was pissed at you." You smirk until his hands find your tits, squeezing them to make you moan his name.

He loves that you’ve retained all your memories, or recovered them. Knowing that while you have to learn about each other now, you do know the people you used to be, the history you shared. “I was still denying myself.” He settles down between your thighs and presses his nose against your bare cunt. “No hair.” He hums, inhaling your scent with a grin. “But you still smell the same. Let me see if you taste the same.”

You can't believe how many memories are coming back to you when hours ago, you didn't know the man between your thighs existed. His tongue slides through your folds and you moan, closing your eyes as your fingers tangle in his hair.

He can almost smell the smoke from the camp fires as he licks into you. Tasting you again and twitching against the sheets of the bed. Groaning as he holds your thighs and pulls them apart even more to devour your cunt properly.

You lift your thighs a little higher, your hands cupping your tits as his tongue makes your mind go blank. "Fuck." You pant, "that's so good." You compliment him as his tongue slides through your folds like he's been there a thousand times and in a way, he has.

Marcus doesn’t hesitate to push his tongue inside you, remembering how much you had loved it and he grunts in approval when you whine in pleasure. Wanting to make you cum like this once more. His fingers dig into your thighs as he eats you ravenously.

His nose presses against your clit and you whimper, one hand coming down to run your fingers through his hair. He is pushing his tongue into you like a man starved and your thighs press against his head, wanting to keep him between your thighs.

He feels your stomach heave and he throws an arm over your waist to keep you pinned to the bed. Loving how responsive you are and desperate to cum you appear. Trying to roll your hips down to his tongue.

You haven't felt like this before and your body is so heated, overwhelmed by how he's making you feel. You moan, your chest heaving as he slides his tongue up to suck on your clit. "Oh God, yes!" You cry, your walls starting to flutter around his tongue.

Marcus growls into your folds, throbbing in need as you soak his mouth and chin. Loving how your thighs squeeze his head harshly while your back bows up.

He laps at you, working you through it, and you whimper, "fuck. You are so good. I need to see you, Marcus. Need to see you again." You plead, lowering your thighs from his face.

Marcus stretches tall and climbs off the bed so he can unbutton his pants. The suit he had worn didn’t require a belt and his shoes were toed off near the door. Leaving him to pull down his pants and boxer briefs, letting his hard cock spring free.

You groan, shifting onto your knees and after he kicks his pants aside, you shuffle closer as he stands at the foot of the bed. "Fuck. So thick." You moan and you grip his cock, leaning in to take his cock between your lips.

Marcus moans, reaching down and caressing your cheek, “still so damn eager.” He chuckles, eyes fluttering from the way your tongue presses against the sensitive head of his cock when you roll the foreskin down.

You moan at the salty taste of his cock as you take him deeper. You have memories now of doing this many times but right now, it’s your first time in this lifetime and you are eager to enjoy it.

He doesn’t rock his hips, letting you set your own pace and he admires the length of your lashes as your eyes flutter up at him. “So beautiful.” He coos, caressing your cheek again. “My princesa is beautiful in every lifetime.”

His words have you dripping and you start to rock your jaw, watching him until you move a little faster and you close your eyes in concentration. Your palms dig into the mattress as you keep yourself upright while you take his cock down your throat.

Marcus grits his teeth, enjoying the pleasure of your mouth, but he wants to be inside you. He wants to have your walls squeezing him tight as he makes you cum. “Good girl.” He hums, pulling back.

You whine when he starts to pull you off his cock, spit dripping down your chin, and he grabs your waist to shift you to lay down against the pillows. "Want to be inside you." He murmurs and caresses your leg, "let me grab a condom." He says and walks over to his bag, shuffling until he's walking back to the bed, kneeling on it as he opens the packet.

He knows that as soon as he gets his results back, he will be discarding the condom, but he needs to do this. He pinches the tip and holds himself while rolling the rubber down his length. “Dreamed about this.” He groans, leaning forward and kissing you again.

You cup his cheeks, your heartbeat in your ears as you watch him settle between your thighs. "I love you." You murmur, unable to believe you've been reunited like this. He shuffles closer and you gasp when he starts to push into you. "You okay, princesa?" He asks and you nod, "perfect. I feel perfect." You promise, wrapping your legs around him.

He groans, the way you squeeze him changing from the placement of your hips. You are hot and tight, perfect and he feels like he’s come home. “You are so wonderful, princesa.” He praises breathless as he starts to slowly pull back to surge forward again.

You let him rock into you, take control, and you caress his shoulders and back. “No scars.” You observe, “not battle hardened.” You murmur, sliding your hands down his chest.

He can’t tell if you are disappointed or pleased, but he continues to thrust, picking up the pace and smirking when you whimper. “Feel good, princesa?”

You nod, “so good. I’ve missed you so much.” You confess even though this morning you had no memory of him. Now, you can’t imagine your life without him. You try to rock up to meet his thrusts and you caress his skin, “I’m so happy you are unharmed.” You answer his unspoken question .

“Life is more complicated but easier.” He huffs, turning and scattering kisses over your shoulder. “We are free to love, to go where we wish.”

“I know. Imagine explaining the Internet.” You joke breathlessly and he chuckles against your skin, continuing to rock into you. “Fuck. And modern birth control. I got an IUD so no unexpected - I really thought that was going to happen to us back then.” You confess, “then I would’ve been killed.”

“It was not meant to be.” He presses his lips to yours again. “Maybe in this life.” He grinds into you, stealing your breath on a moan as he chuckles against your lips.

“We are together in this life.” You murmur against his lips and you moan, sliding your tongue against his as he rocks into you. It’s everything that’s been missing from your life and you love him. God, you love him. You whimper when he adjusts his hips and hits something delicious inside you.

“There?” He groans your name into your mouth and slides down to his elbows, pushing his arms under you because he needs to feel closer. It’s not enough, it might never be enough. He concentrates on that spot, wanting to see you fall over the edge and have a new memory of you.

You nod, your mouth falling open as he rocks into you and you pant, your walls fluttering around his cock. "Shit, baby. I - fuck. You're gonna make me-" You choke as you fall apart, clamping down on his cock and pulsing around him.

Marcus hisses, gritting his teeth while you soak him in your juices. Loving how you are coming apart for him. “Fuck, fuck.” He groans, trying to fuck you through it but his thrusts are harder.

You slide your hands down to his ass, squeezing, “cum for me, General. I want to see you cum.” You plead, groaning when his face screws up and he twitches inside you, spilling inside the condom. You slide your hands up his back and whimper, loving how he looks when he cums for you.

Marcus strains over you, working himself through it with a grinding circular motion of his hips until he is collapsing into you. “Fuck.” He pants. “Perfect, princesa, you are so perfect.”

You sigh, loving how he feels on top of you, your hands caressing his back as he presses you into the mattress. You feel complete, like you’re where you were always supposed to be. 

**** 

“You may now kiss the bride.” The priest declares and you grin, looking at Marcus. His face is bright and he surges forward to press his lips to yours, spinning you to dip you as he smiles against your lips. The city of Rome as your background along with a beautiful sunset. Marnie and Antonio stand either side clapping and you kiss your husband. It may have taken many lifetimes but you and Marcus finally found each other again. No one, not even an emperor, can separate you now.

[varpusvaras]

An AU in which Jason, upon returning to Gotham, gets really swept up into the whole crime lord thing, and never gets the time to go through with his revenge plan.

It starts small. He comes back and gets to work, and after a while, he has managed to carve out some of the crime from crime alley. This gets him noticed among some of the people there. One night, a group of thugs approach him, but instead of wanting to fight him, they want to work for him.

Jason, still fresh, with not much revenue coming for him yet, tells them that he isn't hiring because he cannot exactly pay them much. The thugs say that it doesn't matter, because they like what he is doing, and would like to be in on it anyway, and, well. If Jason has help managing other things, he can dedicate more time on his bigger plan, right?

Wrong. Things start to move much quicker now, and that means that more people come in and want to work for him. At this point Jason has money coming in, and he starts paying them, too, which makes more people come in, which in turn makes more money to come in as well. Jason can pay them more, and suddenly he notices a difference in many of the goons he has on his roster now. They seem happier. They joke more, many of them have better clothes on them, and they don't look so gaunt anymore, either.

Jason asks about it, once, and the goon tells him that they have had the money to buy actual groceries and new pair of boots, which makes living a lot more comfortable. They even got to buy their kid a new winter jacket! Now, if they save up a little bit, they will be able to get their kid new school books as well!

And Jason, Crime Alley boy Jason, who loved school and reading, feels his heart strings being violently yanked. Don't worry about the books, he says. I will take care of it.

At the end of the month, he has managed to organise a book delivery system for all the Crime Alley kids, where they get school books and picture books and science books about dinosaurs and angient Egypt and all that. He tells his goons that for every kid that stays in school for the semester, he will give them a bonus.

It works wonders. The amount of kids dropping out from school gets cut by 60 percent just during the first semester. The book system grows, and suddenly Jason finds himself pushing some money to get the old local library running again, to make things a bit easier. He even hires some people to run the system for him. Suddenly, he is like actually employing people. He needs an accountant. He hires one for himself, and then another one to run other funds.

Things just keep escalating after that. Local parent group starts to have meetings in the new library, and they put up a babysitting club and start a clothes exhange program as well, where you can bring all the clothes that are too small for you, and people get to take what they need home. A soup kitchen starts as well, first because the kids need snacks, and then it grows so much that Jason needs to find a place for it to run effectively and safely. Many local restaurants get into it as well, and their business starts to rise as well, because people who are fed and have warm clothes have more time and energy to seek for jobs. Many of them are still employed within just Crime Alley, though, because jobs elsewhere require an adress, and some people don't have those.

Jason thinks about himself, after his parents died, on the streets, trying to survive, and thinks never again. He tells his accountant to start budgeting for housing.

He needs to hire more people for it. He needs to run his crime empire, after all, he doesn't have the time for this.

He has so many people working for him now. There are a few thugs that were previously employed by other Gotham Rogues coming in as well, because they have heard good things about the Red Hood. The other Rogues are in and out of the prison or Arkham all the time and the pay isn't reliable and there is a high chance that you will get beaten up by one of the bats as well, and they don't really get offered medical services by their bosses, you know?

There's another thing. Jason now has to organize people to get first aid-training. And also get some sort of vaccination program going. And also get everybody dental.

It's all getting too much for him, really. He doesn't even have a high school diploma.

He mentions this to one of his goons one night, because they said that he looked stressed. Don't worry boss! The goon tells him. We will take care of things, if you want to go back to school! It would be a good example, too, for the older kids, who are still dropping out more than the little kids, you know?

So Jason goes back to school. God he loves school. He barely even thinks about his revenge plan anymore, because he is busy running his programs and studying and making plans with his goons.

He gets his diploma and then starts a community college so people can get degrees.

He then runs into an entirely new problem. The people look up to him, especially the kids. And now the kids also want to help him.

Jason, the second Robin, the bird with clipped wings, tells them no. Absolutely not. You are kids, go back to school, your bedtime is at nine.

He cannot control the older teens, though. They just tell him to fuck off and accept the help. Now train us, so we can start running the more specialized missions too. You can't be the only person jumping on rooftops. If you don't train us, we will do it anyway, dipshit. We ain't scared of you.

And suddenly Jason has his own vigilante team with him. His workers are unionizing. Some of them are actually running for the city council to get things addressed that need to be done the legal way. Crime rates have dropped by 70 percent around Crime Alley.

They can't really call it Crime Alley anymore, can they? It's Park Row again.

The bats are extremely confused by the new team. The Hoods, they call themselves. All of them with a red bat painted on their chests and fighting in an eerily similar manner to them.

Jason is not there on Thursdays. He is busy getting his English degree.

[thehauntedetheral]

Yan Arranged Fiance (Dark) ~

You don't want to get married but yours parents wants you to get married as you are nearing your 30.

To make you get married they put a condition that if you don't get married they will give their whole inheritance to charity leaving you nothing.

As you have no boyfriend they search for suitable grooms for you and a strong man to handle their buisness empire as you work in a NGO as social worker because you have no interest in handling buisness.

Yan fiance who falls for you and becomes obsessed with you as soon as your parents introduce to him.

Yan fiance who announces your engagement the day he met you to the media and whole world. He knows it's too fast but he can't let you slip from his grasp so he has to put a claim on you infront of the world. Therefore you have a huge diamond ring on your finger which is a expensive limited edition rare piece that if you sell it and run away it would provide you till your old age.

The whole buisness world is shocked as yan fiance is a lot richer, successful and big company than your parent's company. Why marry you? When he can marry someone more successful and rich.

Yan fiance buys your NGO under the facade of saying "I just want to do charity" when in reality he just wants to keep an eye on you.

You tried running away because you don't want to get married. Your parents freaked out but no worries. Your engagement ring has a GPS tracker hidden in it. And the secret security team that always follow you are just on their way to bring you home. He could have locked you even before attempting to run thanks to his security team informing him beforehand but he wanted to see your try running away as he thought it was cute how you thought you can run away from him.

The security team brings you back to him while he just gives you a crooked smile and says " Had fun while doing jogging, darling?"

"Bastard" you cursed.

"This is the bastard you are getting married to, Love " he kisses your cheek and left.

Yan fiance turns around and speaks "one more thing sweetheart. Instead of wasting your time in running away use it in planning our wedding and future life".

Requests are open!

For more yandere reading:

[phoenixkaptain]

I love it when pre Original Trilogy era shows how much effort went into making the Death Star. It took decades, literal decades, and it took so much money and so many people and it was such a secretive thing and it’s staffed by millions because it’s the size of a small moon.

I cannot express how much all of the added information makes it so much funnier that Luke blew it up.

Luke destroys literally everything Palpatine built. He blows up the Death Star, which was referenced in universe as early as the second movie. He blew up the weapon of mass destruction twenty years in the making. And he blew it up pretty much directly after it’s first and only successful attack. It was operational for fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes that Palpatine had the thing he’d been building for longer than Luke has been alive, and Luke blows it up. First day retirement, but first hour retirement.

Luke convinces Darth Vader to turn back to the light side, a feat thought literally impossible by literally everybody. Sidious clearly doesn’t see Vader’s betrayal coming. Vader’s betrayal was not in his plans, nor was it something he was prepared for. Sidious is a powerful Force user with all four limbs while Vader is a man in the tin can Palpatine put him in. If Palpatine had seen Vader turning coming, he would not have allowed it to happen.

Luke literally should not even be alive. Palpatine almost definitely got Padme out of the way on purpose, and he almost certainly was trying for her unborn child as well (there was way too big of a risk that a cute liddol bebe would bring some humanity back to Anakin, and Palpatine did not want Anakin to have any humanity) Luke living is literally the first step in Palpatine’s ultimate downfall, especially once Vader finds out that Luke is his son. His very alive son. His son that is not dead, despite Palpatine claiming Anakin killed Padme. Implying that Anakin killed Padme and she posthumously gave birth. But, she didn’t give birth on Mustafar, which was the last place Anakin interacted with her. And once the mother dies, you have to get those fuckers out fast or they die too.

I imagine Darth Vader piecing all of this together is that meme with all the math floating around his head, because how could Padme have died by his hand and then given birth like two hours later?

Luke killing Palpatine is what ultimately leads to the dissolution of the Empire as an omnipotent entity. Luke killed the Empire. Luke spends a good amount of his adult life killing Empire remnants. We see that in the Mandalorian, since he’s so recognizable that Gideon immediately knows he’s fucked just by seeing an X-wing. We read it in Legends’ continuity, where Luke terrifies Imperials because he can walk into their changing room and stand in their for a minute and they don’t even notice.

Luke destroyed Palpatine’s life’s work. Everything Palpatine spent his whole life working towards, and Luke kills all of it. He blows up not one, but two Death Stars (he may not have pulled the trigger on the second Death Star, but without him, it never would have been destroyed). He convinces not one, but multiple Sith and Dark Jedi to return from the Dark Side. He is the only reason that Obi-Wan Kenobi, the biggest pain in Palpatine’s ass ever born, lives long enough to make it to the Death Star.

Palpatine went through so much effort. And just when he had finally won, when he finally had a weapon capable of destroying entire planets with a single blast, making it impossible for any planets or peoples to go against him, Luke shows up nineteen years late to the Jedi party with space Starbucks and a droid twice his age and almost singlehandedly destroys everything Palpatine ever had a hand in creating.

Luke manages to become even worse than Obi-Wan Kenobi, the ultimate thorn in the side of politicians, and Luke doesn’t even understand any politics. He wasn’t trained in diplomacy like Obi-Wan and Leia, no, he’s a farmboy who left home for the first time in his entire life, just this morning. And he is the one to destroy the Empire.

If they rewrote Star Wars and had it entirely from Palpatine’s perspective, Luke Skywalker would be his greatest foe. Luke Skywalker would be the final boss. Luke Skywalker is the antithesis of everything Palpatine believes in and he is the one character that Palpatine cannot predict. He isn’t as moldable as Anakin, he doesn’t respond to threats very well, he’s apparently impossible to kill via Force lightning (still the funniest scene of all times, the progression of Palpatine’s face falling and him looking like “what the fuck??? Is this kid rubber??? I’ve electrocuted him eight times???”), his unwavering faith in his father’s goodness makes Darth Vader want to be a better person, Luke Skywalker is the big bad of Palpatine’s story and—

There is nothing in this world that is funnier than someone’s biggest antagonist being Luke fucking Skywalker. Luke Skywalker, who saved the galaxy with the power of love and who shouldn’t exist, by Jedi rules and by Palpatine’s own attempts, and whose best friends are literally droids, which Palpatine canonically hates!

Everything about this is hilarious, this is the funniest thing in all of media, Palpatine loses absolutely everything to some backwater farmboy who fucking likes droids.

[gotta-winwin]

culinaryclasswars!mingyu x whitespoonchef!reader

a/n: culinary class wars will and always will be my roman empire and i can't help but imagine mingyu as a chef competing...

chef!mingyu already had a large internet following before coming to compete. he was widely known to korean netizens as the "househusband chef," famous for his charming looks and endearing persona.

chef!mingyu only joins the show after much persistence from everyone around him - telling him that it would be perfect to both connect with other chefs and to grow his own craft.

chef!mingyu enters filming the pilot, scared out of his wits at the sheer size of the production and the amount of highly respected chefs around him. as he watches more people walk in, the less he believes he's going to make it very far.

blackspoonchef!mingyu, whose very jaw drops at your entrance, rising up on a platform to greet them. he's always been a big fan of your work and your talent, silently mouthing to himself: she's even prettier in person.

blackspoonchef!mingyu works extra hard in the first challenge because he knows you're watching him. he pulls out all the stops, knowing this might be his only chance to impress you. to get you to notice him. in the end, it's both his intense concentration and skill that draw you closer to his station - and it's the bulging biceps and impressive technique that makes you stay.

blackspoonchef!mingyu, who seems to be silently watching you at all times, although he never approaches you during or after filming. you find yourself watching him back, entranced by his fluidity in the kitchen and the confidence that seems to ooze out of him. all your white spoon chef colleagues agree he's a formidable threat.

blackspoonchef!mingyu, who goes home every night after filming only to return to the kitchen, brainstorming creative recipes that would impress the judges. but most importantly, you. it's you he's thinking about while working, both trying to get your attention and your praise.

blackspoonchef!mingyu, who you quickly befriend during team challenges. he's easygoing and extremely fun to be around, making you crack up between shoots and bringing a permanent smile across your face. you find yourself less stressed whenever he's around.

blackspoonchef!mingyu's dreams are slowly coming true as the two of you grow closer. he's bursting from excitement just to be around you, let alone be your friend! he finds himself waking up fully ready to get back to work - competition stress gone and instead replaced by a bubbling feeling of .... is that love?

blackspoonchef!mingyu who can't help but grin whenever he's watching you compete. it's exhilarating to watch you in your element and all the cameras catch his whipped expression as he watches you intently. the hashtag househusbanddownbad trends on all social media platforms the day that episode airs.

blackspoonchef!mingyu who looks at you like you handcrafted each star and placed them in the sky yourself.

blackspoonchef!mingyu who's the first one up and clapping whenever it's announced that you've won your round, resisting the urge to run over and give you a hug. you're equally smitten as you beam up at him, proud that you've won and happy he's there to witness it.

chef!mingyu who's not beat up about the loss because at least now he can get your number and tell you his actual name. he's got a goofy grin as he watches you input your digits, breathlessly telling you that his name is mingyu. he watches you repeat the name and almost faints at the sound of it coming from you.

chef!mingyu who, despite losing, still visits the set every day to see you. he brings you lunch for your breaks, coffee for early mornings, somehow in tuned with your cravings and your needs. more often than not, he's there to drive you home after a long day of filming and cooking.

chef!mingyu, who is the first person you're looking for when you win.

chef!mingyu, who never ever would have imagined you'd ever like him back lets out a tiny gasp when you run into his open arms, going in for a kiss instead of a hug. he's frozen for a moment before realizing shit i should probably kiss her back. the moment is caught on camera, sending fans reeling at the swoon-worthy moment.

chefboyfriend!mingyu who cannot let you go the entire press tour.

[holylulusworld]

Indecent Proposal (3)

Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.

Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, shitty boyfriend, the reader doesn’t take shit from no one, tension, sexy mobsters, slow burn (kinda), talk about sex, horny mobsters, possessive mobsters

A/N: This is a shorter, interlude chapter. I wanted to go straight for the smut but decided against it because...I'm a tease :)

Indecent Proposal (2)

Indecent Proposal masterlist

In your youth, when you made a scrapbook for your future self, you never imagined ending up despising someone so much that you wished they were dead. It wasn’t in your plans that you end up between two mafia bosses who are about to kill your boyfriend.

“Do you want us to do it fast or slow?” Bucky nuzzles your cheek. He purrs your name, his intentions clear. “Name it, and we will do it.”

“I want him out of my life,” you sniff, and drop your gaze, “but…” You take a deep breath. “I don’t want to be responsible for his death. I can’t live knowing you killed him because of me.”

“Scott Lang will never come back to this town, and you’ll never hear from him,” Steve casually says as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to make people disappear. “If you don’t want us to kill him, he’ll live.”

You look away when Steve drags your now ex-boyfriend out of the room. Scott screams your name, begging you to take your words back.  You choke out a sob but don’t stop the mobster. Scott sold you to the mobsters without a second thought.

“He’ll never bug you again.”

“I don’t want him dead,” you lift your gaze to look at Bucky. “For tonight, I want to go home and…” You shake your head. “I can’t just…this is not how this will go. If you want me, you have to earn it. I’m not going to be a breeder.”

“You’re a lady after all,” you can hear the smirk in Bucky’s voice. It’s hard to ignore his piercing blue eyes, and the darkness in them. “I understand that you want to get to know us better before you go on your knees for me.”

You gasp at his crudeness. No man ever talked to you like this. “Maybe I want you to go on your knees for me first. I like me who can lick my pussy good.”

He flashes you a smirk and gives you a wink. You know better than falling for his charms and playfulness. Bucky is still one of the men holding your life in his hands.

“Aw, baby doll. Stevie and I can eat cunt for hours. If you are a good girl,” he says and cups your face with his metal hand, making you gasp, “I’ll let you ride my face one day.”

“Did you get started without me?” Steve walks back inside the room, as you try to find your voice. These men truly know how to make a woman nervous. “Just you know, my beard and face make a perfect throne for you, doll.”

“Stevie, she wants to get to know us before we go down and dirty,” Bucky whispers as runs his thumb over your cheek. The cool metal against your skin is a stark contrast to his fiery gaze. “Do we want to give her the chance to get to know us or do we want to have our way with her right here and now?”

“We are gentlemen, my love,” Steve runs his hand over Bucky’s back, making the mobster shudder. “Maybe she likes to watch.” The blonde flashes you a smile. “What do you say? Do you want to watch me taking Bucky apart? He makes the most beautiful noises for me.”

“I—”  You lick your dry lips. This must be a dream. The most beautiful men you ever saw fight for your attention and want to breed you. Even though you have to admit, that they are both scary as shit you can’t help but feel attracted to these men.

“Stevie don’t overwhelm her,” Bucky tuts. He brings you into his arms, shamelessly roaming your body with his hands. “Hmm…so soft and warm. I will love marking your body as mine.”

“Ours,” the blonde corrects. “We can’t let you go home, doll. You’ll only overthink things. How about you sleep in our guestroom? I promise nothing you don’t want will happen.”

You take a deep breath to calm your nerves. If you don’t stand up for yourself tonight, they will rule your life completely. “No,” you confidently say. “I will go home and think about everything happening tonight in the morning.”

“Doll,” Steve warns.

“You are allowed to drive me home, though,” you flash Steve a smile. “Gentlemen always make sure that their date comes home safely. Right?”

“Steve,” Bucky looks at his husband. Steve’s cheek twitches, just like his hands. He had other plans and now you want to go home. “It’s a great opportunity to have a look at her home. We can check on security and stuff.”

“Hmm…no good.” Steve pokes your window with his finger. “I could break into this death trap within two minutes or less.”

“Steve,” Bucky tries to stop his husband from throwing you over his shoulder to run away with you. For months, they have been watching you. Now that they finally got you in their clutches, Steve cannot wait to make you theirs completely. “Be nice.”

“Uh-the landlord just repaired the window, and I got a new lock,” you point out. The men are not convinced. Your small apartment cannot compare with their mansion, you know that. But watching them inspect your home makes you feel uneasy. “I know it’s not much, but it’s mine.”

“No, no, doll,” Steve turns his attention toward you, and away from the lock. “It’s a nice apartment. We know Scott didn’t help you pay for shit.”

“While you are here, we should talk about a few rules,” you try to sound confident. “No talking about Scott. Not now, not ever.”

“Noted, doll,” Bucky calls from inside your bedroom. He got bold and opened your drawer to look at your underwear. “Hmm…silk, cotton…oh…woo-hoo…”

“Hey! That’s…” You gasp as Bucky twirls an open-back lace panty around his finger. “I found the naughty stuff, Stevie. She will look so good wearing these only for us. I bet,” he licks his sinful lips as he throws the panties at his husband, “she’ll look even better wearing these while full of cock.”

“Buck, relax,” Steve laughs as he can see the prominent erection strain against Bucky’s pants. “Y/N wants to take things slow.”

“I want to know if I’m only going to be a body you can use or part of your life. If you want me to carry your child, give me more than dick…”

Tags in reblog.

[ckret2]

Chapter 31 of human Bill grudgingly enduring being the Pines' prisoner because the Henchmaniacs won't take his call: Summerween night! Everyone gets ridiculous costumes!

The Summerween Trickster's buddies are attempting to resurrect him. Robbie's making a music video. Bill's attempting to woo Ford back into friendship, to terrify Dipper with cursed knowledge, and to recover his dignity from THE most gentle chastising imaginable, and he only succeeds in 1 out of 3 of these endeavors:

It's not this one. He's just gotta process these emotions while wearing that stupid wig.

####

Soos was putting the final touches on his cosplay (the suave and mysterious Masked Guy In A Suit, love interest of the heroine from the classic anime Teenage Planetary Soldier Girls) when he heard the phone ring in the office. "Hold on, I'll get it!" He hurried downstairs, ducked under a construction paper chain Mabel had strung over the door, picked up the phone, and said, "Hello?"

A mysterious voice droned, "The sun sets a deep blood red."

"Oh, no thanks, we don't want any." Soos hung up, sighed happily, and said, "Ah, Summerween. Always brings out the weirdos."

"Hey Soos!" Mabel ducked into the doorway. "Where's the candy bowl?"

"Oh, hey Hambone. It's in my bedroom." He put on a stage whisper. "I put it in there so Bill couldn't steal it."

"Thanks Soos!" She ran upstairs.

Dipper and Bill waited downstairs, the tension thick between them (on Dipper's side, anyway; Bill—watching a black-and-white horror movie, sipping at a can of cider, and brooding over going to voicemail—didn't notice). Dipper was waiting by the door in a folding chair; but he kept glancing toward Bill in the living room. When the silence got too much to bear, he asked, "Okay, what are you dressed as?"

Bill was wearing a brown bedsheet toga (the most historically-accurate part of his costume); a cheap wig of a teased mullet that had ended up mostly red with yellow streaks, forming a plume of hair right over his head and then a long straight tail he'd draped over his shoulder; and a bunch of paper faux-Greek homes taped all around the hem of his toga, forming a ring around his calves.

"And are those my sandals?" Dipper asked.

"Take it up with Mabel, she loaned them on your behalf," Bill said. "I'm not telling my costume. You have to guess it."

"Seriously?" Dipper sighed. It had to be a god, gods towered over their mortals' temples. What god would wear brown? "I don't know—Demeter?"

"What? No. Do I seem like the Demeter type? Pathetic." Bill waved off his guess. As Mabel ran downstairs, Bill said, "Hey, Shooting Star, you haven't made your official guess yet."

Without hesitation, Mabel said, "A time-traveling hair metal singer touring the Roman Empire and trying to find a way home before his hair dye runs out."

"Wrong, but I would love to live in the world you've dreamed up." He meandered into the entryway to join Mabel as she plopped down in the second chair by the door.

Dipper screwed up his face. "Are you helping us answer the door?"

"No, you're helping me answer the door. I'm cursed, remember?" Bill leaned over Mabel's shoulder, dug into the candy bowl, and popped a lollipop in his mouth. "But you're not getting rid of me, if that's what you're asking."

Soos headed to the door, cape billowing dramatically behind him. "Hey dudes. Hey Bill." He paused in the door, studying Bill. "Hey! Is that a Bobo the Uncouth Berserker cosplay?"

Bill blinked. "Who?"

"Bobo the Uncouth Berserker! You've gotta read Bobo. He's this primitive hero descended from lost Lemuria who goes on daring adventures through the lush impenetrable jungles of Central Europe. He's got this comic that was so popular it spawned an anime, which got an American movie adaptation, which formed the basis of a second comic continuity that isn't as critically acclaimed as the original but has drawn in a lot of new fans... and..." Soos petered out. "You're not Bobo, are you."

Bill shook his head. "Thanks for playing."

"Aw." Soos's shoulders slumped. "Anyway—me and Melody are gonna be at the cosplay contest at the theater. I'll keep my phone on in case of monsters."

"We'll be fine!" Mabel said. "Go have fun!"

"You too!" With a dramatic flourish of his cape, Soos disappeared into the night.

Bill watched Soos go enviously. He could have been given a human body that looked that good in a suit and top hat, but was he? No. It wasn't fair. And Soos didn't even wear the right hat size.

Dipper glanced sideways at Bill. "Hey. Is... Lemuria real?"

"Not anymore." Bill perked up as Stan passed by, dressed like Frankenstein's monster. "Hey, Stanley! You haven't guessed yet. What am I?"

Stan surveyed him. "White columned buildings, Statue of Liberty dress, and a red clown wig. I dunno, the American government?"

Bill squawked in laughter. "That's my favorite wrong answer so far. I like you, Stanley." He fished a chocolate bar out of the bowl and held it out.

Stan grunted in disapproval, but accepted the candy. "If any of you need me, I'm gonna be up on the roof, terrifying kids." He held up a boombox and a cassette that said "Spooky Sound Effects of Halloween". "If you hear screaming children, don't worry: that means I'm winning."

"Where's your brother?" Bill asked.

"Avoiding you." Stan passed through the living room and left.

Bill's shoulders slumped; but he just dug into the candy bowl for more chocolate. Then the first trick-or-treater knocked on the door, and Dipper jumped up in relief to answer it.

The shack didn't attract quite as many trick-or-treaters as the houses closer to the center of town, but they got a steady stream of children, and more than they'd gotten the year before. Between visitors, Bill dug into their candy stock, gleefully ignoring Dipper's complaints. After the fourth or fifth visitor, Dipper and Mabel realized that Bill was covering up the amount of candy he'd pilfered by meticulously re-folding the empty wrappers and putting them back in the bowl.

"It's fair play," Bill said. He untwisted one end of a Twisty Roll tube, squeezed out the candy, blew into the wrapper to re-inflate it, and twisted the end shut again. "The kids are trick-or-treating, right? Sometimes they get treats and sometimes they get tricks."

"Come on, seriously?" Dipper said. "Even for you this is low. You're literally taking candy from babies."

"The babies are trying to take candy from us. I have no sympathy." With the precision of an origami master, Bill refolded a paper fruit chew wrapper into a box and dropped it back into the bowl.

"They're supposed to take candy from us, that's how the holiday works." Dipper looked at Mabel for support.

But she was holding up an empty 3 Fencers wrapper and squeezing it lightly between her fingers. "Wow. How did you make the wrapper puffy again? It's so convincing."

Bill shot Dipper a nasty smile, then turned to Mabel and said magnanimously, "I'll teach you everything I know." He twirled a glue stick between his fingers.

Another trick-or-treater knocked, and Dipper answered.

"Trick or treat! Please give us the worst candy you have."

Mabel blinked, leaning around Dipper to see who was outside. "Wait, what?"

Outside stood a purple-furred monster with a dozen limbs from a dozen different creatures. He gasped in surprise. "Ohhh, twin costumes! That's so cute! What are you two, haunted dolls?"

Dipper took a surprised step back. "Limby Jimmy?"

The monster was silent a moment, taken aback. He took off a bear mask he'd made out of a paper plate. "Is it that obvious?"

Mabel asked, "Have we...?"

Dipper said, "Oh! Sorry—Mabel, this is Limby Jimmy, I ran into him last year in the Crawlspace under town when I was trying to get your face back—"

Helpfully, Bill threw in, "He's Gravity Falls' most accomplished arms dealer. And legs dealer, and tails dealer, and ears dealer..."

"Limby, this is my sister Mabel. Actually, I don't know if I ever introduced myself—"

Limby Jimmy cut in, "Ohhh, yeah, I remember you! You're Troll Boy, right?"

Dipper winced. "It's—it's Dipper, actually." He paused. "Wow. We meet a lot of weird people."

"Nice to meet you, Jimmy!" Mabel held out a hand. After a moment of thought, Jimmy elected to shake it with a tentacle and a dog's paw.

"What are you doing up here?" Dipper asked. "Is Summerween the one night of the year that Gravity Falls' monsters can walk among humans without fear?"

"Oh no, I'm terrified. I wouldn't be out here if I wasn't collecting donations," Jimmy said.

"Donations?"

Jimmy hesitated, then lowered his voice. "You've been in the Crawlspace, so, you and your sister are cool, but is the lady...?" He wiggled a hoof toward Bill.

Coolly, Bill said, "I'm actually an ancient interdimensional energy being cursed to wear a human form."

Dipper and Mabel flinched in alarm and rounded on Bill, hissing, "Bill!" "Shhh!"

Ignoring them, Bill said, "So, continue."

"Oh," Jimmy said brightly. "That's all right then, yuk yuk." He wiggled his multitude of right arms. "I don't know if you humans have heard yet, but the Summerween Trickster got eaten to death last summer! It's really sad!"

Dipper and Mabel, who had watched as he was eaten to death, stayed quiet.

"But probably happy for him?" Jimmy mused. "Since I think that's what he wanted? But it's sad for the rest of his poker group, we all miss him! So I'm out here with Doug—"

"Who?" Dipper asked, looking around the porch for a second monster.

"Oh, he's back there." Jimmy pointed toward a tree at the edge of the clearing around the Mystery Shack. The tree chittered unnervingly. "We're going around collecting donations to resurrect the Trickster! Or... re-summon him? Or however this works. We never really asked him how he came to exist, it seemed rude."

"Naturally," Bill said. "You can't just ask a freak what made him so freaky. It's a sensitive topic."

"Right! You understand," Jimmy said. "Anyway, we need a lot of crappy candy!" He looked at their bowl. "Which pieces have the kids been ignoring this year?"

Mabel had started bouncing on the balls of her dusty Victorian ghost shoes; and the moment she had a turn to speak, she squealed in excitement. "You're the Summerween Trickster's friend! That's perfect! Stay here, I'll be right back!" She shoved the candy bowl into Bill's arms and zoomed up the stairs. "I've got some stuff for him!"

Bill looked at the bowl, looked at the stairs, shoved the candy in Dipper's arms, and followed Mabel. "Hey, Shooting Star? What are you doing?"

Her voice drifted down the stairs: "Getting a donation! I'll be just a minute!"

"Hold on, you're actually helping that guy?" Bill laughed. "Why?" He climbed high enough to poke his head above the attic floor  and lowered his voice so Jimmy couldn't hear. "I wasn't paying that much attention last Summerween, but I got the impression from your little costume store brawl that the Trickster was trying to kill you kids. Am I missing something?"

"I mean, yeah, he was—but he was in a really bad place back then, that doesn't mean he deserves to be dead for it. And now he knows someone out there wants to eat him, so maybe he'll be less insecure and evil." Mabel laughed, "Anyway, the Trickster isn't that bad! He didn't try to kill me half as hard as you did!"

Bill froze a couple of steps from the top of the stairs. He didn't move for a few seconds; and then wordlessly, he slunk back downstairs.

Dipper watched as Bill, face beet red, trudged into the living room. "Hey. What's Mabel...?"

"How should I know." Bill curled up on the couch, picked up the can of cider he'd been drinking earlier, shotgunned it, and glowered at the horror movie on TV.

Dipper considered Bill—all alone in the living room and not doing anything important—and considered Mabel, upstairs; and said, "Hey, Jimmy. Do you mind waiting out here until Mabel gets back."

"Sure! I don't have any plans." Jimmy rocked back on his many heels.

"Cool. Thanks." Dipper shut the door.

He sidled oh so very casually into the living room and leaned against the TV. "Guess it's just the two of us right now."

Bill's gaze didn't waver from the TV. "Terrific counting skills, Troll Boy." He popped open another cider can.

Dipper grit his teeth. Let it go. "Sooo! You're from the second dimension, huh? What's that like?" (His voice cracked embarrassingly on "that.") "Just—just curious. Making friendly conversation. Caaasual conversation." He flashed a pair of finger guns at Bill, to underscore just how casual he was. "Yyyep." Witness the junior paranormal investigator in action.

Bill turned the cold, empty eyes of a killer on Dipper. He took a long, slow sip from his cider. And he asked himself: what can I say that will make this stupid boy regret ever daring to speak to me?

Bill smiled. "Yeah. Sure. Okay," he said. "You wanna know what it's like? Have you ever read the Allegory of the Cave?"

Dipper hesitated. "By... Plato?"

"That one. You know—ignorance is like being a prisoner chained in a cave, watching shadow puppets being cast on a wall, and thinking they're reality; and having knowledge is like being outside the cave in the sunlight, seeing the real shapes that are casting the shadows—"

"I have read it, actually," Dipper said, a tad defensively. "It was for extra credit in—"

"English class, I know."

Dipper frowned; but he soldiered on. "So... living in the second dimension is like being chained in a cave, staring at the shadows on the wall, and thinking that's reality? Bleak."

Bill laughed so loudly that Dipper started. "Wow, you're so dumb! Use your brain, kid: it's the second dimension. You're not the prisoner: you're the shadow on the wall." Bill's lip curled in a sneer, "An illusion in somebody else's allegory. And the only one who can see the cave's exit... is you. That's what the second dimension is like!" He laughed again. It sounded forced.

"Oh," Dipper mumbled. He tried to wrap his head around the idea of being a living metaphor for ignorance. "Sounds... pretty bad?"

"Awful," Bill agreed. "Doesn't hold a candle to what your dimension has going on, though."

"Wh... why, what's going on in the third dimension?"

Bill gave him a malicious smile, and Dipper had the sinking feeling he'd just walked into an obvious trap. "You idiot, you still think you're in the third dimension? Really?"

Was that a trick question? What answer was Bill looking for? What could this be if not the third dimension? "Nnooo?"

"Wow. I can really see why you're a straight-A's honors student," Bill said. "You're so good at figuring out what answer the test wants and regurgitating it—even if you don't actually understand it at all." He heaved himself back to his feet; and Dipper was sure there was something threatening in the movement—something that reminded Dipper that he was talking to a dangerously unstable extinction level event precariously packed into an unsteady human body. "Although copying the year of the Louisiana Purchase off of Brandon's test in fifth grade  probably didn't hurt, did it."

Dipper's stomach dropped. The secret shame buried beneath the foundation of his honors roll-worthy record. Pull that out and his entire academic career came toppling down. He'd get kicked out of the honors classes. He'd go to jail. Was cheating against the law? "H... how did—?"

"What year was the Louisiana Purchase?"

Dipper's brain immediately went blank. He was silent, trapped in the paralyzing intensity of Bill's gaze. After several terrifying seconds, he croaked, "1803?" and hoped he was right.

"Attaboy. Too bad you couldn't have learned that a little sooner, isn't it?" As he spoke, Bill had closed in on Dipper until he'd backed him into the corner behind the TV set, filling Dipper's exit route with one hand on the TV and the other on the wall. "But we were talking about dimensions, weren't we! Whaddaya like to read, kid," Bill asked too casually, "do you like cosmic horror? Do you know what real 'cosmic horror' is?"

Dipper regretted this conversation completely.

"It's having an eyeball on the inside of your body, and seeing another dimension through it. And ohoho, I think you'd be amazed at the things I can see from here—"

Dipper got the distinct impression that if he didn't get out of this conversation, he would only hear things he'd be telling his therapist about for months. "Cool! Good talk, man. Hey Mabel?" (That was an absolutely humiliating voice crack.) "How's it going?"

A pause. "I think I need help!"

"Coming!" Dipper ran behind the TV to escape Bill and gratefully bolted upstairs.

The kid had caved so fast. And Bill had only just been getting started. He smirked, sat, and turned back to the movie.

A moment later, Mabel and Dipper came back downstairs, carrying four bulging plastic grocery bags. Mabel set one by her feet, opened the door, and shoved the first bag into Jimmy's arms. "Here! You can give these to the Trickster!" She shoved over the second bag.

Jimmy stumbled back under the weight. "Whoa there! What is this?"

"Candy chalk-hearts! I completely bought out the leftovers after Valentine's Day," Mabel said. "I wanted to make sure that if we met the Trickster again, I could let him know he's loved and appreciated as the terrifying avatar of spooky holiday spirit that he is! And that I also respect that he's made out of gross candy nobody likes to eat." She picked up a chalk-heart box and waved it in Jimmy's face. "So here's a gross candy that expresses love! See, the little hearts say things like 'You smell nice' and 'I heart ur face,' but they taste like if dehydration was a flavor."

Dipper handed his bags to Jimmy. "Wait—Mabel, that's why you got all these? You've been planning to help the Trickster since February? I thought you were gonna build a chalk-heart house or something."

"Oooh, that's such a good idea. I should do that next year!" To Jimmy, she said, "I was gonna give these to him personally, but if he's still dead, I guess you can add it to his candy sacrifice pile or whatever? And make sure he gets this!" She handed Jimmy a store bought Shimmery Twinkleheart Valentine's card. It read, "I BELIEVE in our friendship! Happy Valentine's Day!" Mabel had scratched out "Valentine's" and written "Summerween".

Choked up, Jimmy said, "Oh—wow. That's the nicest thing anyone's done for us all night. I'm sure the Trickster will really appreciate it when he's not dead anymore."

Dipper was a little more vengeful. Dipper didn't want to do anything for one of the many guys that had tried to kill them last year. But, on the other hand, Mabel had just gone all in on this, and Jimmy seemed nice enough, so... Dipper sighed. Whatever, it was Summerween and this was a trick-or-treater. "Hey," he picked up the candy bowl. "There's really only one bag of good candy in here. The bottom of the bowl is filled with after-dinner mints our great uncle's been stealing from restaurants for the last six months. The Trickster would probably love that, right?"

"Aww—thanks so much, you guys! We'll have the poker group back together in no time!" Jimmy dug past the good candy and started scooping mints into his bag. "Oh—since I'm here, can I ask about our other poker buddy? Do either of you know Mr. What's-His-Face? He disappeared around the time you were visiting the Crawlspace, maybe one of you saw something? Any information would be helpful." Jimmy looked at them with weird, plus-shaped, but very hopeful eyes. "Between the Trickster's death and Whatsis disappearing, the local paranormal community's been hit hard. Especially us guys in their friend group. I'm—I'm not gonna lie," Jimmy heaved a sigh, "It's been a really hard year."

Dipper and Mabel, who were directly and personally at fault for Mr. What's-His-Face's disappearance and knew he was frozen in stasis in Ford's bunker at that very moment, exchanged a look and came to a silent agreement.

"Nope, don't know anything," Mabel said.

"Sorry, buddy," Dipper said.

Like the Summerween Trickster, Mr. What's-His-Face was a weird faceless shapeshifty monster that had tried to kill them. But they felt like that was where the similarities ended.

By the time of the Trickster's death, Mabel and Dipper had realized that his deepest inner longing was to be called good enough to eat. Mr. What's-His-Face's deepest inner longing was to steal innocent people's faces. If Mabel and Dipper helped resurrect the Trickster, he'd probably go back to ensuring everyone displayed sufficient holiday spirit, while hopefully mellowing out about eating people now that he'd been consumed once. On the other hand, if Mabel and Dipper helped free Mr. What's-His-Face, he'd probably just keep stealing faces.

And on top of all that, they could help resurrect the Trickster without admitting they knew the guy who ate him. They couldn't really lead Jimmy to Mr. What's-His-Face without admitting their great uncle was keeping him captive. And that would be a problem for the whole family.

"Oh," Jimmy said. "Okay, that's fine. Thanks for all your help. You know where to reach us if you hear anything."

Mabel shook her head. Dipper nodded. "Yeah, we'll let you know."

Jimmy hopped off the porch, shouted, "Hey Doug, can you help me carry these?" and chucked a couple of bags of chalk-hearts toward the tree line. Dipper and Mabel stared. Nothing emerged to pick the bags up.

They shut the door.

"Man," Dipper said. "We kinda devastated the paranormal poker group last summer, didn't we?"

"Yeah." Mabel sucked in a breath between her teeth. "Wow. Feels... kinda bad."

Dipper offered her the candy bowl. "Drown our feelings in chocolate?"

"Please."

They grabbed a piece of candy each, tore open the wrappers—and frowned. Mabel stomped a foot. "Dang it—Bill!"

"Hm?"

"How many of these wrappers are empty?!"

Bill poked his head out of the living room and said, smugly, "Like candy from a baby!"

####

A knock, and Dipper opened the door. "Wendy! Hey! Good timing—"

"Hey." Wendy lowered her voice. "Quick question—this is super important—is Goldie here?"

"Uh—yeah, why—?"

"Yello?" Bill carefully wove his way out of the living room, already less steady on his feet than when he'd sat down. "I heard my name, who's summoning me?"

Wendy pointed over the twins at Bill and turned to shout into the dark, "Ladies and gentlemen! I present to you! Live and in person... Toga Lady!"

A half dozen teenagers immediately went bananas. Hooting and hollering and cheering and whistling: "To-ga! To-ga! To-ga!"

Bill's entire face lit up. Without missing a beat, he pushed past the baffled twins out onto the porch and spread his arms wide, basking in the cheering. "That's right, keep it coming! Worship me! I'm the greatest!"

"Yes!" Robbie pumped a fist in the air. "The legends were true!" Nate immediately added, "The prophecy! The prophecy!" Tambry snapped photos of Toga Lady's fresh look as fast as her phone could save them, muttering, "Everyone's gonna flip when they find out you're still in town."

Wendy waited, grinning, until her friends' faux hysterics had died down. "Okay—okay, after getting you hyped up, I should probably say that Toga Lady is actually Toga Guy." She glanced questioningly at Bill. "I think?"

"Eh, I'm not picky."

"Anyway this is Goldie, he was stuck in another dimension for thirty years, it's crazy, and now he's like my illegal backup cashier. He actually... doesn't usually wear togas?"

Bill laughed. "If you can't wear a bedsheet on Summerween, when can you?"

Lee said, "Thompson wore a bedsheet to homecoming."

"Hey."

Bill pointed at Thompson. "A man of impeccable fashion! I like it!" Thompson gave him a look of eternal gratitude.

"And Goldie, this is the gang! That's Thompson, he's the guy with the van; Robbie and Tambry, they're like, gender-swapped versions of each other, they even share their hair dye..."

As Wendy did introductions, Mabel whispered to Dipper, "Did you know she was gonna introduce Goldie to everyone?"

"No! This is bad, I told her not to trust him..."

Bill was responding to a question, "No, no, you've gotta guess, I'm making everyone guess!"

The teens considered the question. Robbie offered first, "Punk caveman?"

"Nope!"

Hesitantly, Thompson tried, "Nero fiddling over the burning of Rome?" He winced when Lee laughed.

"I like where your head's at, but no! I can't fiddle."

"The gremlin king from Huge Maze?" Tambry said.

Mabel piped up, "No, but the wig came from a gremlin king costume and I appreciate you for recognizing that!" Tambry nodded in cool approval.

Bill dispensed of Lee, Nate, and Wendy's guesses—Greek Christmas tree, that one guy who keeps painting burning banks, and hair metal Hades—before Robbie loudly cleared his throat to cut in. "Anyway, would love to stay and chat, but we've gotta move if we wanna be in position before sunset. Dipper, Mabel, you ready?"

"Ready to ghost it up!" Mabel said, squeezing around Bill with Dipper onto the porch.

Robbie surveyed their makeup—deathly white skin, ashen grey lips, and dark circles around their eye sockets. "Yeah, that's pretty good. Could use a little color, maybe. Like bloody tears?" He turned toward Tambry.

She said, "I think I've got some red eyeliner."

"'In position'?" Bill asked, giving Dipper and Mabel a questioning look.

Wendy said, "We're helping Robbie film this music video tonight."

"We're the creepy ghost twins!" Mabel announced proudly. "We get to sing the chorus."

Robbie said, "Yeah, the song's about childhood and growing up, but like, with ghosts? Because once you've grown up, your childhood is all dead? It's metal, but introspective. I'm calling the genre 'intrometal.'" He flipped his bangs dramatically. "It's a super deep song. Metaphorical layers."

"Oh yeah?" Bill stared Robbie down. "Sing some of it."

Robbie blinked. "Oh. Yeah, okay uh, I haven't warmed up my voice but, the hook is like—" He pantomimed playing a guitar and whisper-screamed, "'BABY DOLLS! BASKET BALLS! BASKET CASE! HUMAN RACE!' Like that."

Bill nodded slowly, face expressionless. "Ah, yeah, I see. Really deep stuff. Makes you think."

"Thanks." Robbie looked at Dipper and Mabel. "Anyway, if we're gonna get any footage in the graveyard before the jack-o'-melons start burning out, we've gotta move. Let's go, Creepy Ghost Twins."

"Wait, you're going out?" Bill asked Mabel. "Like out-out? Leaving me here? By myself? On Summerween?"

"Wh—yeah, we're only handing out candy for half the night," Mabel said. "I told you that."

"No you didn't!"

"Yes I did!"

"When?"

Mabel thought. "No I didn't," she admitted. "Sorry!"

Wendy punched Bill's arm. "Sorry to steal them. We'll be back in a couple of hours," she said. "Or you could come help—?"

"No!" Dipper and Mabel both shoved Bill back into the house before he could accept. Dipper said, "You've gotta—guard the house." Mabel added, "And hand out candy!"

"Right," Bill said flatly. "Yes. That. Ha."

"See you later!" Mabel said, and then shut the door in his face.

The last thing he heard was Wendy explaining to her friends, "He's on house arrest for, like, academic plagiarism and war crimes or something..." and then they were gone.

Bill's shoulders slumped. Well, now what? He couldn't celebrate a holiday by himself. What was the point of wearing a costume if no one sees you in it. He picked up a piece of candy, discovered it was one of his decoys, and picked up another. 

Someone knocked on the door.

"Yeah, yeah," Bill sighed. He picked up the candy bowl, turned toward the door, and paused. Ah. Right. What was he supposed to do with this impenetrable portal-blocking slab of wood.

Who was left in the house? Stan on the roof, Ford in the basement, Abuelita probably already in bed... were any of them worth harassing to help him answer the door? Maybe Stan, he'd gotten all dressed up, he liked the holiday even if he didn't like Bill—

The trick-or-treater knocked more insistently.

Or. Or.

He could pick up the bowl, peer out the small window in the door, and make direct eye contact with the children outside while he ate candy.

As a piece of mid-tier chocolate melted on his tongue, he saw three trick-or-treaters' faces fall as their faith in a kind, caring universe died. He grinned at them and ate another chocolate.

Oh yeah. He grabbed the rest of his cider from the living room and set up post next to the door. This would keep him entertained the rest of the night.

####

He made seven small children cry.

####

Stan watched from his post on the roof as yet another sobbing kid ran away from the shack. "HA! Gottem! Sucker!" He affectionately patted his boombox. "Creepy ghoulish laughter, you never disappoint! Terrifying moochers since 1989!" He paused the cassette and rewound it a few seconds to replay the best part.

He heard a scraping sound above him, and looked up just in time to see Ford sliding down the roof to join him. "Oh, hey! I didn't think we'd see you again tonight."

"Mabel made me promise to celebrate Summerween a little."

"Good for her!"

Stan had already claimed the sun lounger, so Ford brushed some dust and leaves off the roof's cooler and sat. "So, what are we doing? Scaring trick-or-treaters?"

"Yep. This year I'm taking a more atmospheric approach." He gestured at his boombox, which by now was playing haunting organ music. "Nothing like screaming zombies and rattling chains from nowhere to freak out the kids."

Ford nodded. "Psychological torment. I approve."

"Not quite as good as getting to see the terror in their eyes, but." Stan shrugged. "Bill was hanging out with the kids. I didn't want to put up with him."

"Mm. There's a reason I was spending the holiday in the basement."

"Heh. Well, there's always Halloween."

They were silent for a moment, listening as the cassette moved on from organ music to werewolf howls. Stan asked, "Think we'll be rid of him by then? I know we were hoping to be done with him before the Fourth of July—but since I haven't heard anything lately, I figure you hit a roadblock."

Ford winced. "Guilty as charged." He was still relearning how to keep other people in the loop. Even Stan. "You're right. I have a weapon that can destroy him, but I can't find a fuel source without restarting the portal. I'm hoping Fiddleford will come up with a solution I haven't."

Stan nodded. Ford had told him he was getting Fiddleford involved; even as reluctant as Ford was to admit how little progress he'd made, he wasn't going to tell someone outside the family about Bill without letting Stan know. "Any breakthroughs on his end?"

####

During the credits between episodes of the retired samurai period drama (most recently, the samurai had been asked to use his sword to help cut flowers for a bouquet), Fiddleford leaned over and whispered to Ford, "So I've been a-lookin' at those blueprints you left me."

"And...?"

"And I've constructicated a power adaptor. Just jimmy out the fuel tank, swap it for the adaptor's cord, and you can power that weapon by pluggin' it into the wall! It'll just drain all the power from the town for a few seconds, that's all."

"Fiddleford, that's amazing—"

"Now, hold on. There's bad news," Fiddleford said. "Try as I might, I can't quite get it to draw enough power to activate those energy-destroying features what you'd need to disintegrate Bill. It'll work like a powerful laser, but nothin' else."

Ford sighed. "It's a starting point, I suppose."

"I'll send you home with the adaptor anyway. Never know when you'll need a big laser."

"Very true. Do you have any promising leads on other alternative fuels?"

Fiddleford shook his head. "It's the NowUSeeitNowUDontium or nothing. But I've got a hunch we could synthesize it under lab conditions. I'll letcha know in a few days."

And then the next episode started, and they dropped the conversation.

####

Ford let out a heavy sigh. "He's only had a partial success so far. But I'm hopeful he's on the right track."

"So, if he's working on this weapon, what are you doing?"

"Waiting, mostly. I don't know what else I can do."

Stan frowned. "What—that's it? You've been downstairs all day every day—if you're not figuring out how to destroy him, what are you doing?"

"Passing time somewhere I can be on call if he gets up to something—but I don't have to look at him," Ford said wryly. "And—as long as I'm waiting to hear back from Fiddleford, I've been... picking apart that list of spells Bill gave me. To see if any of them are tricks or traps."

Stan couldn't say he was surprised. That was his workaholic brother. A pamphlet of demon magic was like catnip to him. If anything, Stan was almost glad Ford had that letter to distract him. Over the past year...

Well, Ford was fine on land—when he temporarily had a mystery to solve, an adventure to pursue, an anomaly to study, a distraction to fill his time—but at sea, when his mind was unoccupied, he was listless. He had books he didn't read, field notes he didn't enter into his journal, games he didn't play. He fed himself and exercised and did chores around the ship like a robot programmed to take care of itself, and he stared out at the sea.

Last summer, Ford hadn't seemed happy but he'd seemed alive. Tired and angry, but alive. But after Weirdmageddon, a light in his eyes went out. Stan didn't know if it was the end of summer, or guilt over the memory gun, or the gap between finishing a thirty-year-long quest and discovering the next one. All Stan knew was the light hadn't come back on until the moment Bill Cipher, clad in a new body and a purple cartoon bedsheet, tried to cave Ford's skull in.

Ever since they were children, Ford had had a tendency to develop obsessions. It was somehow simultaneously both what made him most interesting and what made him boring. Depended on the obsession. But these all-consuming interests had always tended to last a few months, at most a year; and he'd never seemed to be without one, much less for nine months. Stan had no idea what carrying a single obsession for three decades might have done to Ford's mind.

Stan was glad something had woken Ford back up, and he worried that losing that focal point again might leave Ford permanently adrift. But another part of him worried that, this time, Ford wouldn't let the object of his obsession go. He tended to collect things related to his obsessions.

But then, he usually tended to like his obsessions. He hadn't seemed bothered to burn the contents of his creepy Bill shrine last summer. Ford wouldn't do anything stupid, Stan told himself. Ford hated Bill. "So? Were any of the spells traps?"

"Not... so far, no." Ford sounded irritated by this.

Stan shrugged. "Makes sense. He's trying to butter us up. If that idiot thinks being nice to us for a week or two is gonna make up for the years of grief he's given us—"

A loud rattle-clattering below made them both start. Stan sat bolt upright. "What the—?"

Ford inched to the edge of the dormer roof, knelt down, and leaned over the edge just far enough to see the window.

Bill's face was pressed to the glass, eye rolled up toward the roofline. He grinned in surprised delight and shouted through the glass, "HEY, STANFORD! What are you doing up here?! I thought you were downstairs!"

"Ugh." Ford turned to grimace at Stan. "Speak of the devil."

Bill pounded on the glass again. "Hey, Sixer! SIXER! Open the window!"

"Why?"

"I wanna talk!"

"No."

"Come ooon, the kids ditched me and I'm bored! There's no one in the house to talk to! The old lady's asleep and Stanley's on the roof, so—" He abruptly fell silent, squinting with deep suspicion at Ford-who-should-be-in-the-basement kneeling on the-roof-where-Stan-should-be, and said, "Wait. Are you Stanley right now? Show me your hand."

Ford did not. "Go away, Bill." He left the edge of the roof for his cooler seat.

"Get back here!" The pounding redoubled. "I don't care which Stan you are! If you don't wanna talk, I can always go wake up Dolores!"

Ford looked at Stan. "Mrs. Ramirez's name is Dolores?" He had gotten used to everyone calling her Abuelita.

Stan stomped on the roof, "Shaddup!"

Bill did not shaddup. "Come ooon!"

Stan sighed in defeat and heaved himself to his feet. "If he keeps that racket up he's gonna break that window, never mind that hex you put on him." When they'd taken out the original Bill-shaped window, Stan had replaced it with the cheapest window he could find. He didn't think it was very durable. "How much trouble can he get in with one open window twenty feet above the ground and both of us watching him?"

Ford Frowned.

"Don't gimme that look. Do you want to pay for a broken window?" Stan flipped through his keys for his key-shaped emergency lock pick, leaned over the edge of the roof, and wedged the pick into the window frame. The latch popped open. Lucky this window was so cheap, that wouldn't have worked on one with deluxe features like "airtight weatherstripping" or "a properly-fitting frame." Stan swung open the window. "Okay, you have our attention. Now what's the fastest way we can get rid of you?"

Bill clumsily climbed out to sit on the windowsill with his legs in the shack, and leaned back so he could see up onto the roof. "Hiya Fo—" He lost his balance, flailed, and yelped as he toppled backwards.

Stan and Ford lunged forward to seize an arm each. Stan snapped, "What are you doing, you maniac?!"

Bill stared up at them both in wide-eyed amazement. "You do like me."

Stan made a noise of disgust, let go, and wiped his hands on his pants like Bill had cooties.

Ford said, "We like you trapped in that body and not free to cause the apocalypse."

"I heard 'we like you'!"

"Shut up." Ford managed to haul Bill back upright. (Touching Bill felt wrong—all soft flesh and skin and the suggestion of bones underneath. Even when looking right at Bill's human body, Ford still expected him to feel like heavy shadows and heatless flames.) From this close, Bill reeked of cider. "Just how much have you had to drink?"

"Not so much I won't remember whatever you say in the morning, so be nice to me!" Bill laughed. He leaned back, this time hanging by one hand off the window frame to precariously maintain his balance, and grinned up at Ford. "So! The least fun person in the house has finally emerged from his lair? And you didn't even come into the house to join in the Summerween festivities! 'All work and no play'..."

Ford had to crouch at the edge of the roof, hovering nearby in case Bill lost his balance again. "I wanted to participate in Summerween, actually. It just so happens that the last person I'd ever spend a holiday with is in the house."

"Listen, Stanford. I know you're holing up in your study for days on end just to hurt me. But let's be honest, you're hurting yourself more! When's the last time you saw the sunlight! Look at how pale you're getting, you look like a vampire."

Stiffly, Ford said, "It's costume makeup. That's my vampire costume." Stan laughed.

"It what." Bill flipped up his eyepatch and squinted blearily at Ford's face.

Wordlessly, Ford bared his teeth to show off his plastic vampire teeth.

"Oh." Somewhat deflated, Bill said, "Nice work, it's convincing."

"Thanks," Ford said grudgingly. Giving in to his curiosity, he gestured toward Bill's (somewhat disheveled) reddish-yellow wig. "What are you."

"Oh!" Bill perked back up. "You've got to see the whole thing. Hold on—" He turned around in the window, ignoring how Ford half reached for him in case he needed steadying, until he got his legs outside to dangle on the roof. "What do you think!"

Ford looked over the brown toga flared out like a cone, the eruption of red hair, the small paper city below, and said, "Mount Vesuvius and Pompeii? Very clever."

Bill's face lit up. "Finally! You're the first person all day to get it!" He smoothed out the skirt proudly, his jerky gestures just a bit more exaggerated than usual. "Do you know how long I've wanted to go to a costume party as Vesuvius? But nobody off Earth would get it! And now that I'm finally here, I can't go to parties and I'm shaped more like a mandrake than a volcano." He flung up his hands, wobbled, and caught himself before Ford had to intervene. "But at least you got it. I knew I could count on you, IQ."

He sounded so sincerely grateful. Ford regretted calling the costume clever. It was, but Bill didn't need the ego boost.

"Oh! By the by—I didn't think you'd emerge before the day was over, so I saved this." Bill fished around in his toga until he retrieved a mini pack of jelly beans. "Here!"

Ford eyed the pack. "Why is it open?"

"Because you only like the weird-shaped jelly beans, so I ate all the normal beans and saved the weird ones in one bag."

"I don't want this. You touched every one of the beans, that would be disgusting even if they weren't coming from you," Ford said. "Anyway, this is a patently transparent attempt to buy your way into my good favor—"

"It sure is, Ford, and if you don't accept it I'll get to be annoying about your ingratitude for weeks! Is that what you want? You know I'll do it. Everyone will be on my side—"

Ford sighed, but snatched the bag from Bill's hand. "Fine. Now drop it."

"That's more like it!" Bill favored Ford with an approving smile. "Anyway, it's just about the only candy left in the house, I ate everything else—hey, have you ever been cross faded on cider and a sugar rush?"

Ford was still trying to decide whether he wanted to engage in this one-sided conversation enough to ask Bill what "cross faded" meant when Bill moved on without him: "It's—not that interesting, actually. 6 out of 10. Anyway, all that's left in the bowl is mints and wrappers. And Mabel even managed to give most of the mints away—hey, she's so nice, did you know she's helping to resurrect the Summerween Trickster?"

She was doing what? "No. Why?"

"She's so nice."

"You just said that."

"What is she so nice for. What's she getting out of it," Bill asked, more to the universe at large than to Ford. "If more humans were half as nice to freaks as she is, your rotten planet wouldn't need people like you and me to save it."

Ford didn't even know where to begin with that. He looked to Stan for help.

Stan was sitting straddling his lounger, elbow on one knee and chin in his hand, watching this exchange like he was watching a weird bug on the wall try to navigate around a picture frame. At Ford's glance, he rolled his eyes and pantomimed sipping from a drink.

He could say that again. Ford cleared his throat. "Bill, maybe you should..."

"Hey," Bill said. "Great talk, we really should catch up more sometime. And pull your weight next time, I always have to do all the talking. But right now, I'm..." He gestured vaguely off to the side. "I'm gonna lie down and try not to throw up. Ciao!" He swayed as he tried to get back in the window, tumbled backward into the shack, and thudded heavily on the floor. "Ow."

Ford gingerly shut the window.

Stan turned up the boombox. "Chatty drunk, isn't he."

"He's chatty sober, too." But in front of the kids? Neither of them saw Bill as a role model, but they still didn't need to be exposed to that kind of behavior. Especially when the responsible adults were outside or asleep... "Did we really leave Bill alone in the house with the kids?"

"W—I—" Stan shrugged defensively. "They were all right! They can take him! They're doing karate or whatever! You didn't see how Mabel flipped him at the mall! It was like David wrestling Goliath."

"David and Goliath didn't wrestle."

"You know what I mean."

Ford supposed he didn't think Bill was any threat to the children. At least, not right now, and not physically. He felt like he'd know if Bill was about to try anything.

He looked at his open bag of gross felt-up jelly beans. Speaking of trying to butter them up... Ford wound up and chucked the bag as hard as he could.

He stared into the dark after it.

A small part of him was beginning to wonder whether this wasn't all just an attempt to get Ford's guard down. The gifts, sure, that was as clear-cut a case of bribery as you could get. Nothing ambiguous there.

But the endless chatter... Back when Ford had called Bill his Muse, this was exactly how he'd wanted Bill to talk to him. Not in the flighty half-distracted way of a friendly businessman catching up on a work project's progress before hurrying on to the next meeting; but just talking for talking's sake, talking for the company.

Getting what he once had longed for made his skin crawl. And he couldn't even tell if Bill was acting.

The boombox let out a ghastly banshee shriek. Ford and Stan both jumped, then laughed awkwardly.

Ford sat on the cooler again. "Is it just me, or... did Bill completely ignore you as soon as he realized I was up here."

"Well. I wasn't gonna mention it. I didn't wanna sound jealous of the attention. But yeah—he's been doing that since he got here. If you're in the room, he tunes everyone else out."

"I thought it was in my head." And he hadn't wanted to sound like he wanted to imagine Bill was favoring him.

"And you do the same thing around him," Stan said, and laughed at Ford's flinch of alarm. "It's—it's fine, I get it. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right? You've got some kind of superhero-supervillain nemesis thing."

Ford got the distinct impression that Stan was offering him a convenient excuse for the tunnel vision. He took it. "I suppose that's true." The way his jaw clenched and his shoulders tensed around Bill certainly felt like a "nemesis" reaction.

But if Stan thought Ford was a bit too preoccupied by Bill... well, maybe he was right. Once Ford had gotten over his initial wave of fear, of despair, of outrage at the injustice, at finding Bill was still alive—there was a part of him that was almost relieved. A part of him that had been on guard against nothing for the past year, twisting around looking for an absent threat. Now that it knew where the threat was, that part of him could finally settle down and watch Bill with steady, certain eyes. Having nothing to worry about made him more anxious than having one thing to always worry about.

(Maybe Shermie's kid had been on to something when he suggested Ford might benefit from therapy.)

Knowing Bill was back didn't put the old starlight and awe back in that hole Bill had left in Ford's chest. But dread could fill a hole all the same.

Ford tried to push Bill out of his mind and the conversation. "You think I'm like a superhero?"

"You run around fighting monsters with a space laser. What else would you be?"

"Huh." Well. That made his night.

"Just as long as you don't pull that 'hero spares the villain to show how good he is' shtick."

"Never." Ford laughed ruefully. "I think I left 'good' behind a few felonies back." He'd probably left "good" behind the night he accepted the portal blueprints.

"Couple stragglers," Stan said, nodding out into the dark. It took Ford a moment to spot the costumed kids and remember it was Summerween. "I recognize those costumes, I scared them off an hour ago. What are they doing back?"

Ford squinted at them. "Are those toilet paper rolls?"

"Wh—Hey! What are you little runts— Hey!" Stan leaped to his feet, shaking his fist at the kids below. "Get away from my car! Stop that! I'll have you know that's a classic— No, not the eggs!"

Ford slid out his freeze ray, turned down the power, and offered it to Stan. "Here. At this power and distance, it'll feel like getting pelted with invisible snowballs."

Stan snatched up the weapon. "Eat this, twerps!"

The Summerween night air was filled with the screams of terrified children and the evil laughter of an old man.

####

Wow. It sure sounded like everybody was having fun. Outside. Without him.

Bill was nauseous.

He stared at the spinning ceiling, flat on his back, one leg on a cushion and the rest of him on the floor. 

Bill was nauseous and alone. The loneliness tore at his throat. Even Mabel had ditched him. Of course she did—he'd tried to kill her. He'd barely even remembered he'd tried to kill her until she brought it up. Had he tried to kill her? No, surely not—he liked the kid, he'd always liked her—he'd been faking to force Ford's hand, he never would have gone through with it. He would've teleported her into another room and pretended he'd disintegrated her. She didn't know he hadn't meant it. She was just mad he'd scared her. She couldn't take a joke.

But, Ford talked to him. Ford even liked his costume. It wasn't much, but it would get Bill through the night.

When he saw Kryptos again—when, not if—he was slicing him into a jigsaw puzzle for not taking Bill's call. The nerve of that guy, hanging up on a human without even waiting a few words to see if they had anything interesting to say. 

(What if it hadn't been an accident, he wondered? What if Kryptos had realized it was Bill and still hung up?)

(No. Of course it was an accident.)

He shut his eyes. He was probably too drunk to dream tonight. Well, he could try again tomorrow. His little lucid dreaming guide was currently teaching him to influence the next night's dream by focusing on a topic before sleep. Maybe tomorrow he could dream about the Nightmare Realm.

He missed home.

####

(Congratulations to the approximately 50% of respondents who correctly figured out Bill's costume when I posted the art on Halloween, you're officially smarter than everybody in Gravity Falls except Ford. This is one of those chapters with a whole lot going on so if you enjoyed, I'd love to hear your comments!!)

[yanderecrazysie]

Can I please request for yandere todoroki who at first was very cold and distant to you because he was unhappy with you and his quirk marriage courtesy of Endeavor. The reader tries to get along with him even making him cold soba and bringing it to him during his patrols. But todoroki remains stubbornly coldly ignoring the reader. One day the reader finally has enough and decides to just destroy the quirk marriage contract and leave for the countryside leaving everyone including Todoroki behind. Todoroki then starts to slowly fall for the reader now missing how the reader took care of him and cooked his favorite meals, he also starts to view The reader in as their own person without being clouded by his judgment. Todoroki then turns yandere out of shear yearning for you, he has recognized his mistakes and wants to make things right no matter the consequences, he will have you back and continue on with the marriage.

-Thank you for reading my request. I really love your writing especially the yandere cheater ones, they’re my favorite.

Thank you! And I’ll be glad to write this! ^-^

Title: Is It a Crime

Pairings: Todoroki Shoto x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes

Summary: Shoto isn’t fond of the quirk marriage his dad has arranged. At least, he didn’t think so at first.

Part 2: here

“Is it a crime

That I still want you?

And I want you to want me too

My love is wider, wider than Victoria Lake

My love is taller, taller than the Empire State

It dives, it jumps, and it ripples like the deepest ocean

I can't give you more than that, surely, you want me back”

-from “Is It a Crime” by Sade

“Cold soba, just how you like it,” you try your best to smile warmly, but the glare he sends you is as cold as the dish you try handing to him.

“I’m not hungry.” 

Your smile falters a little, you had hoped that your cooking would get through to him. Wasn’t the fastest way to a man’s heart through his stomach?

Shoto resumes scrolling on his phone, indifferent to the sad look you give him. Your heart gives a painful tug in your chest- what were you supposed to do to get him to like you?

It wasn’t like you particularly wanted in this marriage either.

Your parents had left the final choice up to you, claiming that they’d be fine without the money, when you knew it was the opposite. They were too elderly to work and you couldn’t get a second job while in college to support them.

Endeavor had swooped in, offering to support your parents as long as you were married to Shoto. Evidently, he was drawn in by your powerful healing quirk, and could picture strong grandchildren that could use ice, fire, and heal themselves.

In order to give you and your parents security, you entered into the agreement, assuming Endeavor’s son was okay with the contract.

You were wrong.

Shoto seemed to hate you more and more with each passing day. He’d made it clear from day one what he thought of your marriage.

“I want nothing to do with the marriage, nor you. I will never love nor care for you like a husband should. Give up and go home.”

You were determined to continue the forced relationship, not willing to easily give up the life your parents would be supported by. Yet, no progress was made towards wedding plans nor any discussion of life after marriage.

Endeavor wasn’t pushy about when a wedding should be set, telling you that Shoto was “needlessly stubborn about things”. But you’d begun to worry that maybe he would never come around to the idea of loving you.

And, really, how could you expect that of him? It wasn’t fair to suddenly come into someone’s life and wait for them to love you like a husband loves his wife.

You retreated to the kitchen to deal with your thoughts, putting the soba in the refrigerator in case Shoto got hungry. You thought over what you should do, a little bored with the housewife position you’d been put in. Shoto was a pro hero, Endeavor one as well- you had no reason to even continue college. The two of them each had enough money right now to live off of three times over.

You were ready to hang on as long as it took.

Until you overheard Shoto on the phone.

“She’s annoying. Not my type at all. I could never love anyone like her, even without this quirk marriage nonsense my father is forcing on me.”

You felt tears pricking your eyes. He’d never, ever like you, would he? This was just a waste of time, until Endeavor either forced you into a wedding that made Shoto despise you even more, or canceled your contract for you.

You went straight to the number one hero himself, heart pounding in your chest as you approached his office and knocked quietly on the door. A moment later, you stood before him, those tears from earlier finally falling.

“Shoto will never love me. I think it’d be best for both of us if we… just… went our separate ways.” Your voice quavered, and your eyes closed tightly for the finish.

Endeavor sat back in his chair, obviously surprised, “But your parents-”

“I can quit college and get a second job.”

Endeavor blinked and, after an eternity, pressed on, “My son is stubborn, he has rebelled against me before. You should not take it personally.”

You considered his words. Perhaps Shoto didn’t hate you, just the arranged marriage. But then you remembered his words over the phone and started to cry all over again.

“No… no. I’m sure. I want to cancel the marriage. I’m sorry.”

Endeavor nodded, “I understand.”

Shoto woke up in a bad mood and it only worsened when he didn’t see you in the kitchen, making him breakfast. You always made him breakfast, so why not today? Were you sick?

He checked the fridge and found the cold soba from yesterday. Not exactly a proper breakfast, but it would do.

Sour expression on his face, he wondered why you weren’t awake, bustling around like a happy tornado, cleaning every surface like you had a grudge against it. Maybe you really were sick. He spooned soba into his mouth, debating whether or not to check on you.

Against his better judgment, he walked over to your room and knocked sharply on it. He gave an exasperated sigh when there was no response and opened the door, only to find… nothing. No clothes, no knick knacks, nothing that made the room uniquely you, like it had once been.

His heart sank in his chest and he leaned against the door, head hanging down as his thoughts raced. Wasn’t he supposed to be happy? Thrilled, even? This meant that the quirk marriage was over, right?

So why did he feel crushed?

Shoto stormed into his father’s office without knocking. “Where is she?”

Endeavor looked up from his paperwork, surprised. “Gone. The marriage is off.”

The younger man left, a hole deep in his heart where you had once been. He hadn’t realized it, so focused on hating you, but he couldn’t live without you. He felt like he was panicking, his breath was coming fast and heavy, his mind clouded with thoughts of you.

He knew where you lived, he’d been there once before to meet you. It wasn’t a far walk, and he’d be running.

He could be there in ten minutes. He was positive he could convince you to sign the contract again.

It was time to bring his bride back home.

[talkingparrotkee]

One thing I like about MCU Shuri and also think several people sorely get wrong is that she's the more cool-headed character. She is slower to shout, panic, and anger, being relatively more laidback. Shuri would rather wall up and bury herself in her lab (M'Baku confirms this at Ramonda's funeral, and we see her doing just that in the beginning) before lashing out.

Even Ryan described how T'Challa was more hotheaded to T'Chaka's diplomat, while Shuri was the more cool and laid back one to fiery Ramonda.

We see it in her clothing styles.

We see this in the way she initially approaches things. Two key instances:

The way she first responds and confronts Namor. Shuri is still on defense at the river, but she is less combative or reactive compared to Ramonda. Shuri more quietly assesses and responds to him. Compare this to Ramonda, who immediately fires back and disregards what he says without even checking if it could possibly be true, to which Shuri has to point out some truths by empirical evidence (i.e., Ramonda dismissed him saying only they had vibranium, Shuri gently nudges her, saying he's covered in it, so that cannot be the case). A similar thing happens when she is down in Talokan with Namor. Throughout it all, Shuri kept a leveled head and bit back her tongue to think of solutions, even when things started turning south. She knew how to shut up as well rather than argue him down more (something not many people know how to do).

The way Shuri tried to extract Riri compared to Okoye. For starters, Shuri did not break into bathrooms or bring spears in Riri's dorm - she blended in and used the door. She did not make threats and give an ultimatum either. Shuri just tried to explain the urgency to Riri and draw her out without the use of physical force.

We also see it in her reactions with other characters.

In the first movie, she tells T'Challa to "calm down" when he shouts at her to drive. We also see her not care to fight T'Challa for the mantle, even if it is her birthright (she just wanted to go home and get out of a particularly uncomfortable corset). Instead, she prefers to fight alongside and as support.

Black Panther: "The Black Panther lives. And when he fights for the fate of Wakanda, I will be right there beside him."

Black Panther 2: "I was not trying to save the mantle mother, I was trying to save my brother."

For another example regarding her interactions with characters from Wakanda Forever, Riri is consistently depicted to be the more anxious and is more inclined to lose composure. Shuri, even when she's stressed or overwhelmed too, is often the one to remain composed. Shuri attempts to calm Riri down so she doesn't have a panic attack. Shuri also didn't reply when Riri started snapping at her about the FBI, only calmly working about and mapping out an escape plan.

One last particular example is with Okoye. Shuri is less quick to be defensive or shout compared to Okoye. We see it in the way Okoye commanded her to get in the car, and rather than shout back, she simply uttered quietly, "Why are you shouting at me..." Shuri didn't reply to Riri snapping, but Okoye did not let anything slide, pointing the finger back to her. During this entire exchange, Shuri was quietly observing before cutting in, saying how they needed to work together to get out of their situation.

Black Panther Wakanda Forever was her later in-character out-of-character. In other words, that unrivaled anger and snapping you saw was never her baseline. She's not an angry or vengeful person. That was the point of Ramonda, "Show him who you are," when she was hesitating killing Namor.

It was the result of her character at a breaking point. Shuri was not coping properly and dealing with frustrations she couldn't see her way out of. Shuri was struggling with spirituality. She was trying to know if her family was truly still there. She was trying to find the reason behind her failure and loss. Shuri already began cracking since T'Chaka died (see: Wakanda Files). T'Challa's death just broke her, with her narrowly holding her pieces together.

[yes-ihavealwaysbeengreen]

My Home Is You Part 3/3

A/N: Thank you so much for everyone that has read the first two parts and left a comment or some type of feedback. I really appreciate all of it.

Thank you to @kingliam2019 for requesting.

Thank you to: @jellybeanstacey0519 & @mrsyixingunicorn10 @peyton-warren @affabletimelady @arctickat2400 @luftmenchz @mrsevans90 for commenting and leaving feedback! :D

Fandom: The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare

Pairing: Gus March-Phillips x Female Reader (she/her)

Warnings: 18+ for language, Nazi's, canon typical violence, possible spoilers for the movie, and mentions of sexual assault.

Part One Part Two

There is no time to bring up what Gus said with the mission looming so close, and in the morning as the sun streams through the gaps in the wood, you observe the man beside you. He looks so peaceful in sleep and you run your finger over his cheek, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before you go to climb out of bed.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he grumbles sleepily pulling you back into his arms and pressing his cheek to your own.

“I wanted to make a cup of tea,” you giggle, leaning back in his arms and turning your head to kiss him, “but someone won’t allow me.”

“That’s right,” he nods giving a little hmph, “I’m the mean old man who keeps you trapped in his bed, so he can have his wicked way with you. No tea for you, darling, just debauchery day and night.” He gives out a fake laugh like the Wicked Witch from that Wizard of Oz movie.

“Gus!” you shout, laughing when tickles your side with a laugh. He stops, keeping you close as you catch your breaths. “You’re ridiculous,” you chastise playfully.

“Ah yes,” he agrees with a smile, “but that’s why you love me.” You tense in his arms and he rubs his hands up and down your own, “what’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” you let out an awkward chuckle, “I just need to use the ladies room.” He lets you go with a raised brow as you almost trip over yourself trying to get away.

When you’re alone, you lean against the wall and take a deep breath. Everything he said the night before comes back and you give a soft smile realizing that yes, that is why you love him. The man who liberated you from a living hell twenty-three days prior, who held you through your nightmares, that taught you how to shoot, and make you laugh till you cried. Fuck, you loved Gus with all of your heart. But now was not the time to make such declarations. Not when the fate of the British Empire was at stake.

“You alright, my little Tiger,” you nearly jump out of your skin as Anders comes to lean against the wall beside you. “You seem to be deep in thought.”

“No,” you shake your head with a sigh, “no deep thoughts. I’ve just come to a realization.”

“Do you care to share it with ze rest of the class?” he smiles sitting down on a barrel and patting the spot beside him.

You sink into the seat with a sigh, “I love Gus.”

“Yes,” he nods, “we know. Now what is the realization?”

“That was the realization,” you gape at him, “what do you mean, we know?”

“Oh, it’s obvious, both of you are madly in love with the other.”

“Gus loves me?” you wrap your arms around your waist and lean back, looking at the sea repeating the words back to yourself, “he loves me.”

“The first night we met,” Anders grabs your hand and holds it gently, “Freddy told us that Gus looks at you like he just realized what love was. We live a life filled with blood and death at every corner but somehow in all that mess, you found each other. A love like that does not come every day. But when it does, you need to seize it my little tigress, seize it, and don’t let it go.”

Tears stream down your cheeks and he squeezes your hand and leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead before walking away leaving you with your thoughts. Neither of you notice the figure in the corner. Gus clenches his fist and glances away before marching back below deck to prepare for the meeting with Heron.

The rest of the day passes steadily by and you drop anchor just as the sun begins to set on the coordinates. You’d spent the day tucked away, watching the sea go by as you thought of Gus and how the hell you were supposed to tell him you loved him when he might die the following day. “Someone’s coming,” Henry shouts, and you stand, taking unsteady steps as the pins and needles attack your legs.

Gus stands at the front, his shoulders drawn tight and you move to stand beside him. He quickly glances down at you, his jaw clenched before he looks away. You shrink back from him falling into place beside Apple. He looks between you both with a raised brow. But you don’t have an answer for the icy treatment from the man who's been nothing but kind since the beginning.

“Heron my old pal,” Gus grins, reaching across the two boats to shake his hand.

“Gus,” Heron replies, “may I introduce the Prince of Fernando Po, Kambili Kalu.”

“Don’t I know you from somewhere,” Gus puts a finger to his chin, “I could have sworn I’ve seen you before. Perhaps…do you play cricket?”

“I used to, at Eaton,” Bili poses and Gus laughs.

“Yes! I knew it, I remember seeing your portrait in the hall. Great to have you aboard old chap.”

“Glad to be of service. These Germans, they’re bad for business. I heard you could use a few more men,” he shouts something in another language and men come pouring out of every crevice of the tugboat. “Fourteen of my best men.”

“We have additional weapons,” Gus turns going to help Freddy hand over a box when Bili raises a hand with a laugh.

“I think we’re covered. You might want to borrow some of ours.” Bili shouts and the covers unveil an arsenal of weapons and bombs.

“Jolly good,” Gus grins, putting his hands on his hips. “Let’s get everything moved around and discuss the plan before it gets much later.” He turns back to you and the boys and gives the order, everyone moving to do a job but you.

“Gus,” you step towards him but he turns back towards the front of the boat to pull out the map laying it down on the small table. Heron comes aboard and pauses giving you a raised brow when you quickly say your name, “The boys found me with Appleyard.”

“Ah,” he nods, “well glad to have you with us, miss. Marjorie, my associate will be glad to have another woman around for company.”

“Where is she now?” you ask looking around, “did you bring her with you?”

“Oh no,” he shakes his head, “she is getting ready for the party tonight at my Casino. Her mission is different from our own I’m afraid. But we all have the same goal.”

“I see, well I look forward to meeting her when this is all said and done.”

He smiles, shaking your hand, “I’ll be happy to see you again, miss.”

“Heron!” Gus shouts, looking over at you but not keeping contact, “Come on. We have work to do, you can smile at the pretty girl later.”

That does it. “What the hell is your problem?” you shout, putting your hands on your hips. The rest of the men fall silent looking between the two of you. “What did I do wrong, Gus?”

“Nothing,” he lets out a tired sigh, “you did nothing wrong. It’s me that should be sorry.”

“What the hell are you talking about?!” you throw your arms up exasperated.

“I shouldn’t have pursued you, made you uncomfortable when all you wanted was Lassen.” Gus drops his shoulders, “it was wrong of me. You can move bunks and we never have to talk abo-”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Gus freezes watching you step over the ropes and boxes that litter the deck. “No seriously, did you hit your head?” You reach him, putting your hands over his head feeling for a bump.

“Uhm, no,” he grabs your wrists gently, lowering them back down. “I saw you two together.”

“What did you see? Hmm? What is it that you saw between me and Lassen that made you think I would be in love with anyone but you?” His eyes go wide but you’re on a roll, “and for that matter, when something is bothering you, you talk to me. You don’t ignore me and sulk like a child, do you understand me-”

He puts a hand to your mouth with a grin, “sorry darling, but could you repeat that last part?”

“Get off me,” you push his hand down, “what did you see between Lassen and I that would give the impression that I wanted to be with him?”

“That’s not what you said,” he frowns.

“Tell me!”

“I saw him kiss you on the forehead and hold your hand!” Gus shouts pointing back at Lassen.

“He was comforting me because I realized I was in love with YOU, you idiot!” Gus freezes, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

“You said it again,” he grins, cupping your cheeks, “you said you love me.”

“I do, you buffoon,” you say quietly, “I do love you, Gus. I just didn’t know how to tell you and then Lassen talked to me and I was planning to do it but you ignored me. You hurt me, Gus.”

“Darling,” he runs his thumb over your cheek, brushing away a stray tear, “Darling, please don’t cry. I never meant to hurt you. I was hurting, thinking you were choosing Lassen over me. God, I love you so much, woman. You are my sun and stars and everything in between.”

“You love me?” you whisper, moving closer to close the distance between you.

“More than you’ll ever know,” he presses his lips to your own and you melt into the kiss. The boat erupted in cheers from both sides and Bili slapped him on the back.

“Good show, old boy,” he shouts, breaking the two of you apart. Gus tucks you into his arms, a smile beaming on his face as he presses several kisses to your forehead. “Now,” Bili grins, “let’s kill some Nazis.”

As the night descends the chill sets in and you shiver, watching the harbor lights glow. A jacket drapes over your shoulders and you smile, as Gus puts his arm around you. “It’s a beautiful evening,” he presses a kiss to your cheek, “shame it’s going to be ruined by bloodshed.”

“Hopefully none of ours,” he holds you tighter sitting down and you turn wrapping your arms around his neck, straddling his waist. “I couldn’t bear to live without you, Gus.”

“I know Darling,” he runs his hands up and down your back, “the feeling is mutual. It kills me to know you could be in any danger tonight.”

“I chose this team,” you run your fingertips over the nape of his neck, massaging, “I chose to fight alongside them. To fight alongside you.”

“You remember the plan? You’re in charge of the boat, you have an arsenal of bombs to deploy if needed, otherwise when we give the signal you get the hell out of here.”

“I’ll be away from all the action, Gus. I’ll be safe.”

He nods, “I know, but can’t blame a man for worrying about the love of his life being in harms way.” You smile and he kisses you softly, pressing his forehead to your own, “I meant everyword of it darling. I love you and one day I’m going to make me your husband.”

“I like the sound of that,” you giggle, kissing him softly, “not you making me your wife but you my husband.”

“Well we both know who the boss is in this relationship, my love. You tell me where to go and I follow. Till death do us part.”

“Till death do us part, Gus. But please don’t let that be tonight.”

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep,” he kisses you again, “but I dare them to try to take me away from you.”

“The lights should be out any minute now,” Bili comes to stand beside you, “we should get ready.”

“We’re ready,” Gus stands putting you on your feet. Suddenly a bomb goes off, and the lights of the harbor fade into darkness. “Show time.”

“Wait,” you grab his arm, pointing in the distance at a series of flashing lights, “what’s that?” Suddenly the wireless goes off downstairs and you follow behind Gus down below deck, Bili hot on your trail.

Gus sits at the controls, taking notes and cursing with each word. “Shit,” he whispers, before looking up at the men and clearing his throat, “they’ve reinforced the hull, the ship is unsinkable.”

“We can’t sink it?” you repeat, sliding into the seat beside him.

“Not with the amount we have,” he shakes his head, “goddamn it.” Gus reaches for the headset and switches it off so we can all hear, “M? Come in M?” Static meets them before the signal clears, “we have a situation, the tin has been reinforced, the corned beef cannot be cracked, do you copy it cannot be cracked.”

“Copy,” a voice says from the other end, “standby.” We all wait on bated breath before a new voice sounds on the radio. “Gus March-Phillips, this is Admiral Parker, I order you to abort the mission, do you copy? Abort mission and return home at once. This is an unsanctioned, unauthorized mission. Do you understand?”

“S-ssorry,” Gus pretends to cut out the signal and you grin as he makes noises like static, “can’t hear y-y-you, please fu-fuck o-off.” With that, he turns off the radio and puts his head in his hands, “well, what do we do now?”

“When did they reinforce the hull? Like between the last report and now, when did they have time to do that?” Freddy asks, scratching his head.

“That’s not important,” Gus interrupts, “the problem is, they did it.”

“No, it is important,” Freddy argues, “I’d like to know when in the twenty-something days we’ve been sailing did they manage to reinforce the hull?”

“He’s got a point,” Henry agrees before Gus shouts, shutting them both up.

“It’s not important right now! We have a mission to complete and I have no idea what to do.” The boys shout out ideas, each one more ridiculous than the last before Apple speaks up.

“If we can’t destroy the ships, let’s steal them.”

“Say more,” Gus encourages, pulling you into his lap and running his hand comfortingly over your waist. You all listen with bated breath at Apple’s plan. “It’s just crazy enough that it might work.” Gus looks at you with a grin, “And we all know what a mad bunch we are.”

Mad they may be but their professionalism wins out when it comes to pulling a plan out of their ass. In minutes, Bili was filled in on the plan and the boys sprung into action. “You remember what I taught you?” Henry asks, gently touching your shoulders, “the boys and I won’t be here to help you.”

“I remember Henry,” you nod, brushing off his hands, “I got this. I know the plan.” Henry nods before giving you a quick hug. The young Irishman was almost like a brother to you, and you’d hate to lose him. You tighten your arms before letting go. “Eh, do me a favor?” He nods, waiting expectantly, “Don’t die.”

He laughs, “I’ll try, but what are you always telling us? Don’t make a promise that ya can’t keep.” Henry lifts his cap before walking to the tug boat and climbing inside.

“I guess this is the end,” Freddy yawns, “It’ll be a terrible bore if we came all this way and died.” Freddy gives you a tight hug before pressing a device in your hand. You glance at him quizically and he winks, “You’ll know if and when to use it.”

“I’ll try to keep an eye on the old boy,” Apple takes his place giving you a quick squeeze and a kiss to the cheek. “Keep yourself out of trouble, won’t you?” You nod, feeling the tears well up, before a Danish Hammer forcibly pushes Apple aside.

“Oh, my little lamb is now a fierce tigress,” Anders chokes up, pulling you in for a hug so tight you’re sure some of your bones crack.

“Let her go, Lassen,” Gus pushes him away, “If you harm a hair on her body I don’t care if you’re my friend you’ll go for a dip in the Atlantic.”

“Gus,” you chastise, before turning to Anders, “take care of yourself, my friend. Though I know you don’t need it. I wish you luck.” He smiles, turns to the tug boat freezing, and turns slowly around when you clear your throat, “Don’t have too much fun.”

He grins like a child, caught with his hand in the cookie jar, “I’ll try for you.”

“It seems they have all fallen in love with you as much as I have,” Gus grinningly wraps his arms around your waist. “It’s hard to imagine them not.

“You’re biased, my love,” you press your forehead to his own, taking in a shuddering breath and closing your eyes over the sting of tears. “Gus…I.”

“Shhh,” he runs his fingers down your back, “let’s not do the dramatic goodbye. Let’s just say I’ll see you soon. Because I will,” he pulls you back, one finger on your chin, tilting your chin up. You blink your eyes open and the look in his eyes renders you speechless, utter devotion and love shine back at you. “I will see you again, either in this life or the next.” He leans in pressing his lips to your own, he’s warm and the scent of leather and cologne invades your senses leaving you drunk on him. He licks inside your mouth, tangling your tongues together as you grab the collar of his coat, tugging him closer. Before he pulls away with several small kisses to your lips, his mustache twitches with a smile, “I’ll see you soon, my love.”

“See you soon, Gus,” you reply breathlessly, releasing him and watching till he disappears into the tugboat and they pull away.

The waiting is infinite and you jump with every pop of a gun. The sea sways like a mother trying to calm her young, and you tighten your hand on the control Freddy gave you. It’s almost impossible to follow the figures of Gus and Henry as they move on the dock, taking out as many soldiers as possible, but you follow like a hawk, stalking her prey.

“Come on, come on,” you whisper, waiting for the anchor to blow. It seems to take forever but when all falls silent, and the boats move into position the blast comes. It’s loud, sending a ripple through the waves and the dock becomes a fury of activity. Soldiers come pouring out of the only lit warehouse, like champagne pouring out of a bottle. “Oh fuck,” the shooting starts and you clutch the remote tighter. The lights are almost blinding and you stand going over to the wheel and holding yourself steady with the other hand.

The tugboats strain under the heavy weight of the ship, and bullets ricochet off the side. You can hear the shouts of the men, begging the boat to move and a pained cry has you on your tiptoes trying to get a glimpse of the injured party. The situation is grim and you look between the controller in your hands and the scene before you, take a deep breath, and press the button.

The blast is almost powerful enough to knock you over and you have to look away as the light from the explosion threatens to blind you. You slowly open your eyes, standing straight and mouth agape at the sight of the large ship coming straight toward you. “Fuck,” you manuver out of the way, falling into position behind them as you all make a mad dash out of the harbor.

“Those S-boats are gonna be on us soon!” One of the men shout from Bilis crew. Suddenly a second explosion rocks the boat and you turn wide eyed at the collection of S-boats exploding high into the sky.

The men cheer and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, taking the helm and leading the boat out into open water. You try to catch sight of Gus but it’s dark and the boats are moving at full speed. You turn to see the burning harbor when you notice one of the tugs waiting, a familiar head of hair, standing at one end looking off in the distance.

Lights appear across the water and you fumble for the gun Gus left you. You aim, looking down the barrel as the boat gets closer, you can hear Bili shout that they need to go but something gives Gus pause. “It’s Heron!” he shouts, “don’t shoot!” You let out a gasp and lower the gun, adrenaline humming.

They pull alongside the tug and Heron and a beautiful woman in a white dress climb aboard before the tug starts moving closer. When they get about two feet from the edge, Gus runs across the deck of the tug and jumps aboard.

“We did it!” He grabs you, throwing his arms around you and spinning you around with a laugh. He lowers you to the ground, kissing you with his arm wrapped around you with his right, and attempting to steer with the left.

“If you crash, my ship, I’ll kill you boss!” Henry shouts and you break apart, gasping at the blood soaking through the cloth wrapped around his shoulder.

“Henry! You’re hurt!”

“Eh, it’s just a scratch,” he shrugs with a smile.

“Nice timing sweetheart,” Freddy shouts with a smile. “I was worried you weren’t gonna press it.”

“Freddy, I’d blow up a hundred harbors to keep my family safe.”

“Your family?” Gus smiles, “I like the sound of that.”

“Do you?” you ask, wrapping both arms around his waist. “How about another title.”

“What’s that?” He grins.

“My husband.”

Gus keeps his arm around you the entire time, the clock ticking on your time together as the small blip that is the destroyer becomes larger and larger. The ants atop the ship become humans, all standing in crisp white uniforms in a row, one more decorated than the others with a scowl on his face.

“I see we meet again,” the Admiral puts his hands on his hips, “you disobeyed a direct order-”

“We have something for you,” Gus interrupts, “found this ship just abandoned in the Atlantic. Thought it might be helpful for you.”

The Admiral raises his brow looking around your ragtag crew, “I see you’re in cahoots with pirates now?”

“Excuse you,” Gus shouts, “show some respect, you’re in the presence of royalty!”

Bili lifts an imaginary hat with a grin and the Admiral seems less than pleased as he scoffs. “All of you are under arrest by her Majestys government. Come aboard at once.”

“Gus,” you whisper, holding tighter around his waist as he presses a kiss to your head.

“We knew this was coming, Darling, just follow my lead.” He unwraps from your hold and moves around the ship, helping his men aboard the ship till the last one is loaded. Bili’s men stay aboard the tugboat, awaiting his orders.

“Admiral,” Bili bows, “my men and I have finished our work here. Your army will regain control of the Atlantic. I just ask for me and my men to return home to Fernando Po so we may begin the cleanup. We have a nasty bug, that I would very much like to stamp out.”

The Admiral raises his head, his mouth agape from reading the manifest of the ship and two tugs before coughing to clear his throat. “Uhm, yes,” he nods, “I suggest you and your men leave before I change my mind.” He turns to the rest of the crew with a frown, “as for the rest of you, it’s the brig for you.”

Everyone bids Bili goodbye as they are slowly ushered below deck to the brig to await arrival back in England. “This one doesn’t belong,” the Admiral stops the progression pointing to you, “you’re not in the report as a part of the mission. Who is she? What is her purpose here?”

“She’s not a part of the mission,” Gus hurries, halfway pushing you behind him, “we saved her from a Nazi garrison, she was being held captive with Captain Appleyard. I couldn’t leave her behind on that island so we brought her along until we could safely return her to England.”

“Did she have any role in this nonsense?” the Admiral gestures to the three ships floating nearby.

“No. We kept her below deck, away from the action. She’s just a civilian.”

“Gus-” you interrupt but go silent when he gives you a stern look before he masks it with a charming smile.

“She had not role in the plot sir, she’s innocent.”

“Very well,” the Admiral nods, “find her a room. But you go to the brig, March-Phillips. I’ll see you locked away for the rest of your life for this.”

“Gus,” you reach toward him but one of the soldiers holds you back, “let me go!”

“Get your hands off her,” Gus shouts, brushing off the soldiers trying to usher him below deck. “Admiral,” Gus turns towards the man, looking back and forth between the two of you. “Are you able to perform a wedding ceremony?”

“What are you bloody on about March-Phillips?!”

“You said I’m going to be locked away for the rest of my life, right? Well if that’s the case, sir, I’d rather leave my home and all my belongings to someone that needs it. Since I won’t be needing it where I’ll be going, sir.” Gus locks eyes with you, “that is if you’ll have me, darling?”

“Oh Gus,” you shake off the soldier's arm, “yes, a million times yes.”

“This is utter madness,” the Admiral scoffs before turning to his second, “Go to my quarters and get the bible off my bedside.” The man runs off and Gus steps closer, reaching out for your hands.

“One more request sir,” Gus turns, “would our friends be able to attend? I would very much like Captain Appleyard to be my best man.”

“And I’d like Anders Lassen to stand at my side,” you add, turning back to Gus with a smile.

“Very well,” the Admiral says, less than pleased with the whole situation.

In ten minutes the entire crew, your friends, and the Admiral stand at attention as you and Gus say your vows overlooking the Atlantic ocean. Anders stands at your side, holding the makeshift bouquet one of the soldiers fashioned out of knotted rope. “By the power vested in me by the United Kingdom and her Majesty’s Royal Navy, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Gus beams, pulling you close and dipping you into a passionate kiss as the ship explodes into thunderous applause. Anders sobs loudly, Marjorie handing him a handkerchief as he tries to muffle his tears. When Gus rights you, he presses another quick kiss to your lips, “I love you, and I’ll continue to love you for the rest of my life.”

“I love you too,” you cry, wrapping your arms around him, “I’ll be waiting Gus. I’ll wait forever for you to come home to me because my home is you.”

“Sorry to interrupt this happy moment,” one of the soldiers cuts in, “but you need to go back to the brig, sir.” Gus glares him down and he drops his head stepping away as Gus gives you a dozen more kisses before going with the soldier. He holds your gaze till the last second and you can’t help but feel a part of your soul go with him.

The rest of the journey feels endless, knowing the man you love and friends are below you locked in a cage awaiting trial. The men that call this vessel home are kind, bringing you meals and escorting you around the ship for a walk. And when the boat docks a week later you wait after disembarking hoping for a glimpse of your husband.

“Miss,” a man comes up beside you, “I’m Lieutent Fleming, I’ve been instructed to bring you home.”

“I want to wait,” you frown, “I want to see him.”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible, they’ve been instructed to wait till you’re gone before unloading the prisoners.”

You glare, “those prisoners, are the most loyal soldiers I’ve ever known. Do you have any idea what they’ve done for this country?!”

His eyes widen, “I assure you, I am well aware of their sacrifice. Please, let me get you home and safe and I’ll explain everything. We have a plan to get them out. Please,” he holds out an arm towards the waiting car. You glance back at the ship one last time before biting your lip to hold back the tears and follow him into the car.

As he drives the tears stream down your face and you try to keep the sob clawing at your throat at bay. “Don’t worry, miss,” Lieutent Fleming assures, “we will get them out.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you whisper, burrowing down into the seat and closing your eyes.

The next six weeks pass in a blur of cleaning, coffee, and meetings with Ian. Lieutenant Fleming kept to his word and he’s been working alongside his boss, the mysterious M to get the boys and Marjorie from the military prison.

The day comes seven weeks and two days since you married Gus. “It’s time,” Ian quickly phones before the car arrives. You lock the door, pocketing the key and getting in.

“Good Morning Ian,” you smile, buckling up, and freezing when you notice it’s not Ian Fleming sitting across from you.

“Expecting someone else, were you?” Winston Churchill smiles across from you and you visibly swallow your mouth going dry. “Mrs. March-Phillips, I presume?” You nod, speechless, and he chuckles pleased, “you may call me Winston.”

“Oh, Mr. Churchill, I could never dream addressing you so informally,” you stumble over your words. “I just want my husband back, sir.”

“I understand,” he nods, putting his cigar back in his mouth and grinding down on one end while he talks. “You’re husband is a hero, and we need more like him. Men who are willing to take orders and give their own spin on them. Less yes sir, and no sir and more thinkers. I wish I had a hundred like him.”

You giggle, “I think theres no one out there quite like Gus.”

“Touche,” he grins, “I understand he’s been quite vocal about allowing visitors. The guards tell me they have a bag of letters for you upon arrival. He writes several daily but with the trial he was unable to send them. Another point he is most vocal about.”

The gate of the prison looms and your eyes widen as the car glides through and around the back out of view near the service entrance. “We can’t have anyone knowing I’m here.” You nod, following behind him as he gets out of the car and puts his hat on his head. A truck pulls up behind you and several soldiers disembark with baskets and silver tray ladden with rich foods. “I have to honor them somehow,” Mr. Churchill gives you a wink before he sets his face in the trademark scowl you’ve seen in the papers.

You follow as he walks down a dark corridor, his cane tapping on the floor almost soothing. “Stay here,” he stops just before the door, “you’ll be my last gift to them.” You pause, almost running around the corner but you know the anticipation is worth it. Mr. Churchills speech leaves tears gathering at the corner of your eyes and you ring your hands together as the soldiers carry in the food spreading it out on the table before them.

“And one last thing,” you perk up when you hear the chairs scrape across the floor as your friends prepare to dig into the feast. “Although this one is for you Captain March-Phillips than the rest of you. Come along, dear,” Mr. Churchill calls and you step around the corner, your heart nearly beating out of your chest.

Gus’s eyes nearly bug out as they trail over every inch of you, the tap of the cane fading as the silence grows. His hair has grown out and his facial hair is unkept but he’s still as handsome as ever. “Hello,” you whisper, your hands clenching at your side nervously, “did you miss me?”

Freddy snorts, “Miss you?! God woman that’s all he bloody talks about!” Marjorie slaps him up the back of the head and you laugh before Gus launches himself at you.

“Darling,” he shudders, holding you tight and putting his face in your neck taking deep inhales, “god, I was going mad without you.”

“Can confirm,” Freddy shouts.

“Shut up, you wanker!” Henry hits him in the shoulder, “They haven’t seen each other for seven bloody weeks.”

The room fades away as they quarrel at the table, but you only notice Gus. The feel of his muscle through the prison jumpsuit, the scratch of his facial hair against your skin, the warmth from his mouth pressing kisses to your neck. “Gus,” you whisper, running your hands through his hair as his mouth seeks your own, and he presses a kiss to your lips for the first time in nearly two months.

“Fuck,” he groans, “I missed you.”

“The feeling is mutual. Home is too quiet without you, and I can’t fucking sleep without you, Gus. I’m not sure I ever want to again.”

“You won’t,” he nuzzles your cheek before closing his eyes and keeping you pressed into his arms, “I won’t ever leave you again, darling.”

“Did you say home?” Henry interrupts, a mouthful of meat pie filling his mouth as he talks between bites.

“Yes,” you nod, “I moved into Gus’s home while he’s been away. Ian Fleming helped me.”

“Ah-ha!” Food splatters across the table as he points at Freddy, “You owe me ten pounds!”

“The bet was, she would go home with him at the end of the mission! He never went home, so actually you owe me ten pounds!”

“You bet on us?” you ask, with a chuckle, Gus leading you over to the table and pulling you into his lap.

“Ja,” Anders nods, “there were several bets actually.”

“And this bet was if I would go home with Gus at the end of the mission?” they both nod digging back into their dinner. “Well then, Henry would win,” Freddy opens to his mouth to argue but you hold up a hand silencing him. You take the fork out of Gus’s hand feeding him bites of pie as he leans against your chest with his eyes closed, a smile stretched against his face. “Because as soon as you completed I went home with Gus. Maybe not physically but I’m his wife and he’s my husband and wherever I go he’s in my heart and I his.”

“That’s not how it works,” Freddy pouts.

“Don’t bet on me then, if you don’t like the outcome,” Gus laughs opening his eyes and pulling you down for a kiss.

His eyes are warm as he rubs his hand against your cheek, his friends laughing and teasing one another surrounded by good food. All's right with the world and in an hour they’ll be free. Gus pulls you in for another kiss his lips lingering a second longer as he whispers against your lips, a smile splitting his face, “that’s my girl.”

Requests are open. Got another idea for this fandom? Send them my way! Thanks for reading!

[daydreaminglifelesslove]

it’s incredibly sweet and mind boggling how joe hills and oli theorionsound seemingly met by fated chance and coincidental accident because of the hermitcraft x empires planned crossover, of joe hills spawning and ending close to where oli was coming from on empires season 2, of after the hermits getting back home after being trapped on empires — bringing the empires season 2 cast over via the opened rift, of oli on hermitcraft/streaming it on twitch getting himself accidentally killed in situations and needing anyone free online to help. that being joe, who kept helping and coming to oli when he got himself into situations and trying to keep him alive. and them outweirding and being funny chaotic guys and because oli was playing a bard on empires and is a guy who goes into song whenever irl when he wants, just them connecting and building a unlikely but extremely works well friendship for the while. and coming to the now, august of year 2023, of empires s2 being done, the rift in grians basement being closed to the multiverse of empires s2 before s2 was finished, joe hills a couple days ago on youtube stream minecraft chat messaging cubfan saying he misses oli - his bard, who he knows is in pirates smp now currently, and wants him back and how cub whose been stealing things for the museum should take a piece of the rift or somehow turn it on to work to bring oli back. also oli on twitter replying to joe hill’s tweet progress of his pinball machine he’s making on hermitcraft and wanting to play it. pls. get oli back on hermitcraft, somehow multidimensionally pull him back on, he wants to be on, joe hills misses him, please.

[thisfeelslike-iykyk]

the first snow ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

sw boys x reader (ft. luke skywalker, anakin skywalker, obi-wan kenobi, poe dameron, din djarin) backtrack: “the first snow”, exo inspiration: this song, and the fact that it finally snowed!

luke skywalker

coming from a desert planet, the first time he sees snow is when the rebel alliance goes to hoth to make their base after the battle of yavin 4. (actually, he probably went a bit before officially making echo base, since he was a leader of the alliance and probably had to scout the territory and stuff.) of course, he’s not used to snow, and he’s pretty startled at how cold it makes everything. he grows to appreciate it though; it’s fun to play with and looks pretty. he mostly appreciates hoth because it keeps the rebellion safe from the empire. (for a while at least, lmfao.) his favorite snow activity with you? snow angels, without a question. just so peaceful and intimate. it kind of makes him feel like everything will be okay.

anakin skywalker

same as his son; he’s never seen snow before becoming a padawan. the first time he sees snow, it’s because he goes to a planet for a mission. when he sees that it’s snowing, and it’s cold, he’s actually really excited. he hates everything and anything that reminds him of tatooine, and snow is literally the opposite of sand. so he loves it! after his first encounter, snow becomes like his favorite thing. I don’t believe there’s snow on coruscant, though, so he really treasures his missions to snowy planets. and while his jedi duties have to come first, he loves to spend time outside in the snow with his partner. he will make the biggest snowball you’ve ever seen and lob it at you. snowball fights are fun with him--he’s competitive, but he also loves you. so he either completely demolishes you, or he lets you win.

obi-wan kenobi

he sees snow as a natural phenomenon. not much is known about his home planet, but he spends most of his time as a young adult on corsucant, training. so I’d imagine he’s not that accustomed to snow. when he first sees it, he’s obviously very intrigued, and he’ll probably capture some snowflakes in a jar and try to bring them back to coruscant to study. unfortunately, all the snowflakes have melted by the time he gets back, but he sees it as a win for his research anyway: snow melts! after that initial curiosity, though, he’d grow to see snow as kind of an annoyance. it’s hard to see when it’s snowing heavily, and it’s hard to move around, even if he is a jedi with superhuman agility. on a snowy day, he’d go about his duties like usual, although he’d try to avoid very snowy places. he’d prefer to just stay inside with you, sharing a blanket and some hot chocolate for a nice cozy day in.

poe dameron

bro was like a year old when the alliance went to (and left lol) hoth. he doesn’t mind snow. it’s cool. it does make it harder to fly when it’s snowy, but he isn’t usually flying on a snowy planet anyway. he’s a snow fort kind of guy, although he unfortunately doesn’t have much time to be having fun. after the events of rise of skywalker though, he’s not fighting for his life every day, so that’s when he starts to appreciate snow. he’s the type to stick out his tongue and try to catch a snowflake in his mouth, even though he’s done it before and they literally have no taste. he might even catch a few snowflakes in his hand and try to sprinkle them in your hair before they melt, since you look so ethereal with snowflakes in your hair.

din djarin

kind of similar to obi-wan. I don’t know much about his home planet, but unless I’m wrong, the first scene in the mandalorian is him capturing a bounty on a snowy planet? so he’s definitely seen snow before and knows how to work with it. I feel like he wouldn’t mind it. it definitely makes his silver armor stand out and makes it hard to move and see, but at the same time he can use it to his advantage. he doesn’t play with it though; he’s an efficient guy and doesn’t have time to make snowballs or snowmen. on a snowy day, he’d just go about his business as usual, capturing bounties and flying across the galaxy. however, he does think it’s pretty peaceful and can appreciate the quietness of it. snow’s kind of like him; cold but comforting once you get used to it, stubborn, and pretty darn beautiful.

my first sw fic! it does feel kind of weird calling them “boys” since they’re literally not (calling obi-wan a “boy” is foul honestly), but I’ve done that for percy jackson and harry potter so I might as well be consistent. also just a heads up, but I’ve only watched the nine movies and the first season of the mandalorian, and it was kind of a while ago, so my bad if I got something wrong or missed a detail

divider by @saradika-graphics

taglist: @loveinalocket, @raysmayhem-72, @toooster, @soft-likethesunset, @sheisntyou

[neonshadows9000]

Two tropes I love are TimKon Clone Baby AUs and Tim being of Asian descent, so what if we combine them?

In his grief induced, sleep deprived spiral Tim manages to produce a viable embryo and conks out right after confirming that it has no detectable defects and will not terminate if he takes his eyes off it.

When he wakes up he realizes how fucked up this whole situation is but by then accelerated aging has already grown the child to be visible with the naked eye and Tim can't bring himself to abort it despite the moral concerns and ramifications of keeping it. It's not Kon, he knows that, but it's the closest he has to him so he decides to let incubation progress and deal with the consequences.

He stops the accelerated growing to give himself more time organising how he's going to mange this and so he can tell the relevant people beforehand instead of just turning up with a child. But then Bruce dies, or so everyone thinks, and Tim leaves to get him back himself when it becomes clear that he can't rely on anyone to help.

His search for Bruce works on a different time schedule driven by desparation and recklessness because he needs to get back to the child as fast as humanly possible. This causes him to take more risks and be less forgiving in his actions and he manages to gather enough evidence sooner. He sends the information to the JL and makes sure to prevent Ra's from continuing the fight in Gotham before getting the kid and dropping off the grid, letting everyone else make their own assumptions on what happened to him. Their actions when he confided in them about his theory had shown him that he can't trust them anymore, so he leaves.

He rushes to prepare his departure with the now born baby and leaves for his mother's childhood home in the Philippines. He'd visited it a few times with his mother and once with Kon but nobody else knows about it. (What Tim doesn't know is that in his haste to disappear he forgot to erase the simplest thing.)

Tim raises the child there, learning more about his own heritage and meeting estranged family members along the way.

He's using tech to disguise himself, appearance and biosignatures, from both the Justice League and the remains of Ra's empire, with Tam and Pru keeping him up to date on significant happenings respectively.

Meanwhile Dick has been worrying about Tim, which is only amplified when Bruce comes back and Tim doesn't, when Bruce asks about him and Dick doesn't have an answer, when Kon and Bart return with grandiose tales of the future to no best friend to tell them to.

Bruce starts searching for Tim during his recovery and Cassie catches Kon and Bart up to everything that happened between their deaths and Tim's disappearance.

They notice she's holding back on telling them something and she reluctantly shares how she caught him trying to clone Kon. Kon, overwhelmed and disturbed by the news, leaves them to process by himself. When he's calmed down and rationalised that he doesn't have the whole story, since Tim isn't here to tell it, he goes to the lab to look for... anything, really. A notebook, a diary, something that can tell him what Tim was thinking.

He finds the lab empty, all notes and cloning equipment destroyed. But on the computer he finds evidence that Tim was here after he disappeared, and that the cloning was successful.

So Kon is sure that Tim is out there, that he's with a child and that he went of his own accord. Where would Tim go, avoiding everyone that would search for him? That could be anywhere!

But does the child, his child, change his decision making? Kon can think of one place, far enough to not raise unwelcome memories of what he's leaving behind, sentimental enough to want to introduce his child to and secret enough that only one other living person knows about it. Or no other, considering that Tim was gone before he could find out that Kon's alive from anyone in the community and the news isn't public yet.

Kon flies to the home Tim had shown him once and finds it lived in. Toys and food and clothes and pictures all over the place. But no Tim and no baby. So Kon waits.

Tim comes back a few hours later, child in tow, from visiting his great aunt and uncle who he has started visiting regularly to learn about his family's history and share about his and his mother's lives in America. They're slowly starting to not need his cousins to translate anymore as Tim is learning enough Filipino to make up for their limited English.

The sight that greets Tim when he rounds corner is Kon tracing the pictures that Tim has taken and hung up since moving here.

Tim bursts into tears as he sees Kon, who himself startles, at Tim's entrance. They have a long, tearful reunion before Kon asks about the kid and Tim explains everything.

In the end Kon isn't happy about what happened but he sees the difference in how Clark and Luthor treat him to how Tim loves the child. He sees how Tim regrets hurting Kon with his actions and how what he did was not out of greed but out of grief.

Kon visits often after that, getting introduced to Tim's extended family and Tam and Pru. He eventually brings up letting other people know and Tim's apprehensive but lets Kon bring Bart the next time. Bart who is ecstatic at being an uncle and will definitely spoil the kid rotten. Together they manage to convince Tim to give telling other people a try, not necessarily about the kid or his location but at least that he's alive.

So Tim starts video calls with Bruce and Dick and Cassie, telling them that he's fine but that he won't come home, talking about what happened and how each of them hurt because of it. Eventually he'll let Kon take him for a visit in person. Eventually he'll tell them about his son, scared and hopeful, and they'll tell him that they'd love to meet him. Eventually he introduces them and watches everyone coo and baby talk to him.

Eventually Tim's anxiety about seeing them will turn into excitement and his son will grow up knowing his family in the Philippines and his family in America.

[aroaceleovaldez]

I HAVE BEEN REMINDED OF SOMETHING i think i've made a post about it before but maybe it's just sitting in my drafts. idk, whatever, I will ramble again. Said thing that reminded me was a tiktok by madison_murrah about how the PJO TV show doesn't get the balance between mundanity and magical correct for pjo and I want to expand on that cause while a.) it totally is a problem in the show and i take issue with it, b.) it is also a problem in later books and i ALSO take issue with that too and i would like to elaborate on it

this got long so ramble of the day below the cut:

so the thing is that PJO is actually pretty unique in it's approach to hidden world modern fantasy. like, hidden world modern fantasy is a decently established genre with a ton of examples, but there's a reason why PJO stands out so much, and that's because technically it's NOT "hidden world." There is very intentionally no distinction between the mundane world and the mythological, at least in first series. They 100% overlap. And you do not necessarily need to be "special" to see the "mythological world-" some mortals are totally naturally clear-sighted, a lot of kids are clear-sighted, and it's like 50/50 for if mortals can become clear-sighted. In fact, most demigods aren't immune to the effects of the Mist, all that really matters is if you're actually thinking about being able to see through it. And there's a reason for that!

In general, this format of the "hidden world" modern fantasy serves two purposes: One, as the series is meant to introduce people to Greek mythology and explain why it is relevant and how it can be relatable in modern contexts, it intentionally juxtaposes myths against modern concepts: Medusa runs an apparently average garden statue store. Procrustes runs a mattress store. The entrance to the Underworld is in LA at a record store. Circe lives on an island paradise that's secretly dangerous. Hydras are like chain donut stores that seem to pop up on every corner. Perseus and his mother struggle in Perseus' childhood but get a happy ending. Calypso has an island paradise where the challenge for the hero of our story is being tempted to leave behind his goals. The plot of Sea of Monsters is blatantly the Odyssey, and it's about Percy trying to get to his best friend (who he shares a literal psychic link to) who is in danger of getting married to someone awful (a literal monster) to help you understand Odysseus trying to get back to Penelope and how important to each other and in sync they are. Battle of the Labyrinth is Theseus and the Labyrinth and it's Percy/Theseus trying to protect his home and his people and fellow kids (like Nico) from the dangers in the maze. These are all supposed to help us understand what is actually going on in those stories.

We also still see how Greek mythology influence shapes and influences western culture in general in their world (which is supposed to be our own and so uses real-world examples) - in government, in architecture, in pop culture - Mythomagic is clearly supposed to be your standard TCG like Magic The Gathering. And in general there is no distinction between where the mythological ends and mundane begins - Camp Half-Blood is both a magical training space for demigods and your run of the mill underfunded summer camp, complete with cheesy camp songs and t-shirts and crafts. Olympus is located on top of the Empire State Building which is operating completely as normal except for when a demigod asks to go to a non-existent floor. Your best friend with a muscular disease in his legs is secretly a satyr. Your brother with down syndrome is a cyclops. Your teacher in a wheelchair is secretly an immortal centaur. Your crappy algebra substitute is a literal fury. But also they're still your teachers. The satyr is still your best friend, the cyclops is still your brother. And that brings me to the second aspect of all of this (which i have talked about before [here] and [here]) - the other purpose it serves is that it is an extension of the overarching disability themes that form the core of the series.

The entire reason that meshing of mundanity and magical is so intertwined is entirely because it's part of the disability metaphor, specifically inspired by early 2000s parenting/teaching concepts for children with disabilities, particularly learning disabilities, as trying to reframe disabilities as "superpowers" to empower kids (and still exists in some more modern forms - like referring to disabilities as "being differently-abled") (I talk about it in my previous post on the subject but this generally fell out of favor due to many kids/students finding it belittling of their struggles) - this is why we get the description of ADHD and Dyslexia being framed as "demigod superpowers." In the series this structure is intentionally made to encourage kids to reframe how they view disabilities in general as not something negative but something interesting and fantastical that they may be more open to engage with - and PJO does this in a really nice way where a lot of the disability struggles are still acknowledged and treated sympathetically. Kids still get bullied, Percy and Annabeth struggle in school or with reading/spelling, they grapple with both internal and external ableism. The entire reason for the titan war in the first series, at least from the demigod perspective, is criticizing flawed systems meant to support disabled people that don't do their job effectively or let too many people fall through the cracks. The Mist "hiding" the "mythological world" from mortals (and even some demigods) is about how most abled people (and some undiagnosed people) don't recognize disability struggles until it affects them personally. None of these things are glossed over! It's handled with nuance and care! The series says "you can be disabled and you can be like these fantastical heroes - not in spite of your disability, but alongside it. Neither negates the other." The series was explicitly made so Rick's disabled son could see himself in a hero and learn about mythology for school. Those are the two pillars of the entire franchise: Disability and learning about mythology.

So, when you mess with that "hidden world" structure, the entire thing falls apart and it immediately doesn't feel right, because it's no longer serving either of those two purposes when it needs to be fulfilling both. Late-series Riordanverse has a tendency to compartmentalize the mythological and keep it entirely sectioned off from the mundane. Think about first series and even TKC versus later series - how many mortal characters are there? what do they do? are they just in the background or do they interact with the main cast frequently? are they more than just family or an extension to the main cast? First series we see Percy's classmates frequently, Percy talks about his mundane experiences at school, multiple mortal parent characters (and other mortal characters like Rachel) are active participants in and vital to the plot. We even see a lot of background mortal characters. In TKC, not only are all the magicians technically mortal, but also Sadie's completely mundane best friends help her out. Now think about HoO, or ToA, or even MCGA. Think about the mortal characters in those series. How important are they? Out of the important ones, how much are they in mundane situations versus being almost entirely involved in something mythological? How many aren't related to any of the main cast? How many aren't actively working for a god? The answer is basically zero! Why is that? Because Rick stopped letting the mundane exist. The entire draw of the main series is that Percy does continue to live this mundane life and that adds to his mythological life and makes the balance and meshing between them interesting, but basically all mundanity ceases to exist by HoO. Camp Jupiter is an isolated entirely magic town. Percy and Jason's schools are full of mythological beings as basically the only people they interact with. The Tri's headquarters is an entire giant building in New York City that they completely control that just so happens to ALSO be directly across the street from the local Oracle's house, because even where Rachel lives isn't allowed to be mundane anymore. Why is Olympus just at the top of the Empire State Building versus the Tri having an ENTIRE building? That feels weird and unbalanced, particularly given the difference in importance between those two! Because one is playing into that balance of the meshing of mundane and magical and the other isn't! The show continues this trend. It doesn't allow any of the mythological to exist within mundanity like it functions in the books, which creates a completely different atmosphere and doesn't allow those spaces or scenes or characters to serve their actual narrative purposes, either making it easier to understand mythology contextually or what disability metaphor or representation is occurring there.

It's part of the problem with show!Percy being too mythologically-savvy - Percy is supposed to be the mundane lens unfamiliar with mythology that the audience is learning by proxy through. That's the entire point of the series! If you have Percy already know everything because he's already too ingrained into this mythological environment from the start, and he just exists in this entirely magical world where he understands everything immediately then the literal target audience of the entire franchise (students being introduced to mythology) is left behind! That's part of why the pacing of the show feels so bad! It's rushing through every scene that's more or less the same as the books, particularly anything mythological, because the show is assuming you've already read the books and already know enough mythology to know what it is and what happens and that you don't want to see it again, so it rushes through. The show doesn't explain things that it presumes you already know - worldbuilding, character decisions, basically any mythology, etc, so it doesn't even bother with it.

Later books in the franchise do this too - as long as it's tangentially Greco-Roman mythology, or if it's anything to do with the main series like a reference in TKC or MCGA or etc, it's not going to elaborate much if at all. HoO speeds through Jason's introduction to CHB, and the only reason we get much introduction to Camp Jupiter is because it's actually new. We're no longer trying to contextualize or learn about mythology, it just all becomes set-dressing and references thrown at you rapid-fire as filler. By late HoO and into TOA and TSATS and such, we're not longer even within the realm of pretending like we're adhering to mythology at all. Why is Iris a vegan? Why is Rhea a hippie? Dunno, don't care! Literally doesn't matter! Why are the pandai panda/elephant-monsters and the troglodytes frog-monsters when that's not part of their actual history at all? Well a.) literally just word associations and b.) possibly a little bit of racism (they're supposed to be humans from India and northern Africa, and you made them monsters. cool. okay. and their plotlines totally aren't horrible within those contexts. awesome. please try thinking literally at all next time, thanks). We're not even bothering to look at mythological instances anymore for a basis, a lot of it's written like we're just going based on the first results on google (hi Menoetes and the cacodaemons - the latter of which is not even spelt correctly once in the entire book - which is weird because they do say "daemon" so they know the word. Not that the cacodaemons are mythologically accurate at all because then they would be humanoid. Instead they seem to just be inspired by the things from Doom). None of it serves the purpose of the narrative at all; we're literally just making random choices, some of them quite distasteful! In large part due to refusing to acknowledge the actual contexts of the myths and how that might translate into something similar or equivalent a modern setting to help conceptualize it - something the first series did inherently by design. And we need this! A.) So that you're less likely to make bad decisions because you are inherently thinking about the historical and cultural contexts of these things and how to compare/explain it, and b.) because the audience for later books/the other series and the show is going to be the same as the first series! Those nonsensical references may be at best cameos to people who are already familiar with them, but if your intended audience is new to mythology then making references like that is just going to leave people out of the loop! You don't shift your target audience in the middle of a franchise!

Later books in the series and the show are failing to understand what the first series was actually doing narratively and how it was approaching these subjects and its audience. When you fail to do that, it completely messes up the general worldbuilding and the core themes and intentions of the franchise as a whole. Once you lose touch with that you might as well just be writing a completely different franchise. You need to approach it from the same lens or else it will feel completely off, because otherwise you've lost all base touchstones that make the series what it is.

[motherofdogs1010]

A Jedi in Arrakis VI (Paul Atreides x Reader)

Summary: While on the run from Empire troops, Jedi padawan Y/N comes to find out that hyper-driving in a compromised craft can have some major setbacks when she discovers not only is on a new planet but a whole new galaxy as well...

Warnings: jedi!reader, angst, mentions of death, somewhat-canon Dune PT. 1 & 2, Paul is somewhat canon, talks of questioning the Force and teachings, spoilers for Dune Part I and II, eventual marriage

GIF is not mine, from Google

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V

Next Part

Banner @vase-of-lilies Dividers @firefly-graphics

Duncan Idaho was dead.

Dr. Kynes recommendation was to use a thopter to fly, use the dust storm and find the Fremen in the South of the planet. A task that seemed easy to Y/N, but now sitting in the damn dust storm that was literally destroying the craft proved to be more dangerous than she thought as BB used his internal cables to keep himself in place as Paul did his best to navigate with the Sardaukar now behind them as well, jet flares chasing them.

"Paul! We're not high enough!" Lady Jessica shouted as the flares exploded around them.

The engine rumbled as the thopter shook and groaned.

"May the Force be with us", Y/N whispered and breathed.

Her heart was pounding in her ears.

"I must not fear", Lady Jessica whispered, "fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little death that brings obliteration."

The alarms of the thopter was blaring loud as she shut her eyes, reminding her of when her planet was attacked by the Emperor when she suddenly felt them drop.

Her breath left her lungs, her stomach felt like it was about to vomited out and she was speechless.

The fear that was surrounding her felt like when she watched her parents be murdered, seeing the Storm Troopers blast her parents to death. The way her mother had hidden her away, but she watched from the crack of the Storm Troopers asking where she was.

She could see visions of it all happening before suddenly, the thopter was thrown back into action and she opened her eyes to see they were out of the storm.

"We need to run for the rocks as soon as we land", Paul said before once again, they proceeded to drop and twirl into the sand.

The sand was different here, whiter and somehow softer in texture as they ran to the rocks. BB rolling away but needing assistance up to the rocks a bit before they begun to dress in the stillsuits.

Y/N frowned at the suit, unsure of how to put it on but watched as Paul took off his shirt and realized she had to undress to slip the suit on.

It was tight to the skin almost as if it was meant to be there as she found looked for where to attach her lightsaber when Paul walked up to her, grasping the mask and tube that hung around her neck.

"You'll have to breathe through this", he said, "and need to wear this mask while we are out here. Protects you from the sand."

"Did you learn this from the archives?" she asked, Paul let out a chuckle.

"How did you guess?"

Once situated and BB getting a small bit of extra charge, Y/N felt odd wearing this. She missed her robes from home, being able to wear her hair as if she was on Naboo but for now, her hair and head was trapped in the cap and hidden underneath a thin hood. Her face hidden by the mask and she felt her lightsaber clank a little against the suit.

"Let's go", Paul said.

Time passes differently on Arrakis as they walked along the rocks, trying their best to avoid the sands because, as Paul told her, any movement could cause the sand worms to be summoned.

They had reached where a Fremen settlement was but Paul had informed them that it was best to cross the sands at night when the worms would less active, just as the Fremen do for safety. Although, he mentioned that BB would be safe since he just rolls away on the sand.

And now that night had fallen, Lady Jessica and her followed behind Paul as they sandwalked as the Fremen do. BB was just rolling a bit ahead of Paul a pace where he did not lose them.

Her muscles ached as they climbed dunes and sandwalked when the thunderous rumbling under the dunes vibrated the ground.

"Is that a worm?" she asked.

"It's close", Paul said, "we need to move."

As they moved down the dune, the ground began to violently shake beneath them and the hard realization hit them that a sand worm was quickly approaching towards them.

"Run."

Running in the sand was different despite the floor underneath being hard, BB was ahead of them of course and letting off a series of beeps in a panic tone as they ran.

The suit felt like it was weighing down her feet as she ran, quickly looking over her shoulder to see that Paul had even lost his footing and tumbled into the sand. Lady Jessica had made her way safely to the rock structure with BB as Y/N found herself running back, grasping Paul by the wrist and helping him up before they both took off again.

She could still feel the vibration of the worm even on the rock as they both stumbled onto it, but as she turned to look at the massive worm, she could feel a distinct hum to it.

She could feel the Force around this creature as it paused, staring at them and it felt so... peaceful feeling the Force rolling off the sand worm. It did not surprise her, the Force was in everything from the water in a cup to the joy in emotions, but to feel how strong it rolled off of the worm felt practically religious.

She understood why the Fremen worshipped such a creature.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

It was that noise that broke her thoughts as Paul breathed, "someone's set off a thumper."

It made the worm slither and dive back into its home: the sand, and driving their trio deeper in the structure as protection.

The darkness of Arrakis was quickly peeking around them when Paul signed, We are not alone.

Her hand instinctively went to her lightsaber as BB rolled behind her, her eyes darting to the walls of the rock and she saw them: the Fremen, or at least a small group of them.

Perfectly hidden to the naked eye until this moment when they began to emerge, crouching on the rocks and surrounding them.

"Do not run. You will only waste your body's water."

She unclipped her lightsaber and held it in her hands as a precaution as Paul said, "Stilgar? I was there when you came to my father's Council."

Y/N had never seen any of the Fremen that had come to see the Duke, she watched as the man called Stilgar lowered the cloth that covered the bottom of his face.

"Oh, this is the Duke's son", Stilgar said as another man questioned Stilgar's relaxed stance.

"We need their water."

Water.

Paul had told her how valuable water was here as she felt Paul's hand gently grasp hers for a moment, their eyes meeting for a brief minute.

"This is the boy I told you about. We can't touch him."

That statement brought out a barrage of Fremen speaking in their native tongue as the man that questioned them drew out his knife, calling them weaklings.

"It was a brave crossing they made in the path of Shai-Hulud. He does not speak or act like a weakling. Nor did his father."

"My thumper saved his life. He is not the One."

Paul squeezed her hand as Lady Jessica said, "We have powerful friends. You help us off-world, to Caladan, you will be well rewarded."

Caladan: Paul's home world. He always described it as a planet covered in water, the seas crashing against the rocks, the salty air cold and tickling your nose so much you needed warm clothes to shield yourself at times from it.

"What can wealth do for us when it is the water in your flesh that we want? That is more valuable to us."

BB let out a series of nervous beeps as the Fremen around them stood, looking towards them to grab the water that rested in their bodies as Stilgar argued that Paul could learn their ways.

"But the women are untrained", Stilgar said, standing up. "One is too old to learn and the other is not even from our galaxy."

"Just because I am not of this galaxy does not mean I cannot learn", Y/N argued.

Stilgar hummed for a moment as he stared at her as she felt Paul's hand tightly grasping hers.

Silence befell as Y/N sensed that they were about to attack and she was right as the Fremen leaped to them. Y/N letting go of Paul's hand, activating her lightsaber as using the side of the beam to bump down one of them that came at her. She could see Lady Jessica and Paul dealing with their own as Y/N used the heat of the beam to slice down another's knife as the sound of the lightsaber's hum seemed to echo in canyon.

She jumped onto one of the structures as she could hear BB zap one of the Fremen in the leg before rolling away, using her lightsaber to its non-lethal advantage as the heat alone was enough to burn if one was not careful. She had no fear that one would try to take her lightsaber since its weight alone made it hard to grasp considering she had a dual-ended lightsaber, which was a bit heavier than most.

"Back off, you dogs", Stilgar suddenly said as Y/N watched the Fremen in front of her stop and back away.

It was then she saw Lady Jessica holding a knife to his neck, Paul had managed to get up to higher ground with a gun pointed at Stilgar and BB stopped tasing a Fremen.

Stilgar breathed for a moment, "Why did you not say you were a weirding woman? Or a fighter?"

He paused again, "Or that The One Who Carries Light travels with you?"

Y/N frowned at the name, confusion filled her and she knew she would have to ask Paul about this later.

"Conversation fell short", Lady Jessica said.

"Peace, woman. Peace. I judged hastily." It was then she let the knife leave him and backed away, Y/N jumping down from where she was to stand next to the woman, BB rolling up next to her and she patted his little metal head.

Stilgar spoke to his fellow comrades in their language, the others listening for a moment before Y/N heard a voice behind her say, "They always speak of The One Who Carries Light and their Blades of Light, used to bore me to death with stories about it. Especially the part of how She would appear with the Mahdi, but you two look children."

Whipping around to glance behind her, she saw a girl about her age with hard, bright blue eyes staring at her, calculated and ready to strike. She wore a hard breathing mask around her lower face, which she removed as she continued to speak.

"You fought well, you didn't even pierce anyone's flesh with it. Or is it rather you didn't char anyone?"

"There are many ways to use a lightsaber, not all are lethal. My Master was training me well."

"Chani", Stilgar called out, "take care of our newcomers and see that they are safe on the journey,"

"Will your metal pest fair well?" Chani asked as BB let out an angry beep.

"He did not appreciate that", Y/N answered, "he can understand you and what you say."

Chani looked at BB and BB was practically grinding into the rock from anger as she heard Paul approaching.

"You are not injured, are you?" Paul softly asked, she shook her head.

"I will not have them with us", a man suddenly angrily announced, stomping his way up to Stilgar and Lady Jessica.

"Jamis", Stilgar said as the man stared at her and Paul. "I have spoken, be still."

Jamis, the angered man, argued back against Stilgar as he stated that Stilgar was not a leader if Lady Jessica had bested him and was invoking 'the amtal'. Y/N concluded that meant he was challenging Lady Jessica, but Stilgar denied it saying that it was not allowed to fight Sayyadina (which again assumed was another term for the Bene Gesserit).

Y/N knew she was going to have to be quick on picking up the language if she wanted to be able to thrive amongst the Fremen just as Jamis demanded for another to fight in Lady Jessica's name.

"Where is her champion?" Jamis demanded.

Y/N knew Paul would volunteer himself, it was his mother after all as she squeezed his hand gently before she watched as he stepped towards Jamis.

"I accept her champion."

🪐

The sun had already risen and the beginnings of the Arrakis heat were beginning to be felt as Jamis and Paul readied for their fight.

"You will prevail, Paul", Y/N whispered to Paul as he readied for the amatal.

She brought a hand to his cheek as he leaned into it, "the Force is strong within you, Paul."

"If that is true, the Force must feel how nervous I am", Paul said with a slight smile that she could see was filled with worry.

"My Master told me to never doubt myself in battle. You must not doubt yourself, Paul or that will be your death."

Silence filled the two of them as Paul brought his hand to clasp around the one holding his cheek, his hand bringing it to his lips in a chaste kiss as Chani approached them.

"I do not believe you are the Lisan al-Gaib", she said, "but even you do not deserve to die without honor. Here."

Chani handed him a knife, expertly carved and balanced. Paul grasped it and nodded, "Thank you."

Paul chastely pressed his lips to hers before beginning to walk to where Jamis and Stilgar stood.

"The knife was beautiful", she said to Chani.

"It was a crysknife given to me by my great aunt", Chani revealed, "it's made of a tooth from Shai-Hulud. It is a great honor for anyone to die holding it."

"I imagine it would be", Y/N answered, "and it is kind of you to think of allowing Paul to use it."

"Even Fremen believe outsiders can die with honor."

Silence fell the two of them as they faced where Paul, Jamis and Stilgar were; Lady Jessica a little bit aways and BB rolling up to her, nudging her thigh with a worried beep.

"Paul will be okay", she said, patting his head.

"Jamis is a good fighter, he won't let him suffer."

BB let out a quick series of beeps.

"Chani is just kidding", Y/N nervously said, "Paul is going to be okay."

"Come, we must gather with the others to watch."

Chani let her and BB to where the others were, Y/N deciding to stand with Lady Jessica and BB closely behind them.

Paul stood across from Jamis, who looked sternly at him.

"He will be okay", Y/N whispered.

"He will", Lady Jessica replied, but Y/N could hear the worry.

Silence befell them all.

"May thy knife chip and shatter", Jamis stated.

Paul was silent as he brought his knife up to his chest then head before lowering his arm.

It was anxiety-inducing watching, no matter how confident she was in Paul.

Yielding was not a option as Paul asked Jamis if he yielded, but as Stilgar told them, "only death."

"Paul has never killed a man", she whispered to Lady Jessica.

It was not like her, the Clone Wars had brought death to her lightsaber whether she liked it or not. The Jedi taught them that while life was valuable, there were times were death had to come: both naturally and by their hands.

Lady Jessica grasped her hand, the two of them clasping hands in some form of comfort as BB trembled.

But she knew Paul was going to kill Jamis if they wanted to survive.

And so, as sad as it was, she felt no shock when Paul delivered the stabbing blow to Jamis's back.

She watched as the Fremen went to Jamis as he took his last breath and Paul making his way to her now, the Fremen around resting their hands on his shoulder as Paul stopped in front of her and his mother.

She could see the sadness in his eyes, the remorse, the final loss of innocence for him.

Slowly letting go of Lady Jessica's hand, she walked up to Paul and grasped his hand.

"A life for a life", Stilgar announced, "you are one of us now."

The sun felt especially hot now.

"Come with us to SietchTabr."

Lady Jessica tried to oppose, but Paul shook his head.

"The Emperor sent us here, but my father did not come for spice or the riches, but the strength of the Fremen. My road leads into the desert and if you'll have us, we will come."

Into the deep Arrakis desert, they walked and BB rolled over the dunes as they followed the Fremen.

"Look", Paul softly whispered to her, pointing out a small disturbance in the desert.

Fixing her eyes, they widened as she saw a Fremen riding a sandworm, hooks attached into the worm as they rode it.

"Amazing", she breathed.

"Desert power", Paul smiled.

"You say my world sounds amazing, but I continue to be more amazed each day I'm here."

"This is only the beginning", Chani said, turning to them with a small smile.

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