#as long as youre helpful and make her look good shes fine

[myderis]

phainon 'n fem reader ᰔ fluff ⊹ word count 0.5k

"Quick, hide me!" you were in a total panic running to PHAINON using him like a human shield as your hands found a place on his back, gently tugging his cape. Although he didn't have time to react, he knew you were in big trouble if you were looking for him. "What is it this time, my lady? You stole another scroll, rode a droma unsupervised, scammed someone, or—?"

"Where is she?" you panicked even more hearing the voice of none other than Mydei and his footsteps that could tear the ground apart, and maybe even your dignity. "Where's who?" Phainon's calm voice carried just enough to sound believable. He didn’t flinch as the prince’s towering frame loomed closer, his eyes blazing like twin suns. The Deliverer shrugged slightly, ensuring his broad frame blocked you from sight as you pressed closer to his back, your heart pounding like a war drum.

"You know exactly who I’m talking about," Mydei growled. His tone was edged with frustration, and you could almost feel his glare cutting through the space between them. "She drank all of my pomegranate juice. Do you have any idea how long I waited for the harvest? Where is she?" At those words, your stomach twisted with guilt and fear. You hadn’t meant to drink all of it… but it was just so good.

Phainon tilted his head, considering. "Pomegranate juice, you say? That’s tragic. But alas, I’m afraid I haven’t seen her.” leaning casually against a pillar as if Mydei’s wrath was the least of his worries. "Perhaps she’s taken to the market? Or gone to annoy someone else?" 

Mydei hesitated, uncertain whether to believe Phainon or keep pressing him for answers. After a long, tense pause, he sighed, not wanting to bother himself anymore.

"Fine. If you see her, tell her to face me like an adult," You shot your savior a silent, desperate thank-you from behind his back. He subtly shifted, blocking you further from view. Mydei narrowed his eyes, clearly not buying it, but after a moment, he huffed, muttering something about “finding her eventually” before storming off.

As soon as he was gone, you stepped out from behind Phainon. "I owe you my life," you said dramatically, your heart still racing. "Or at least my dignity."

Turning to you, an eyebrow raised in amusement. "You owe me more than that, I think. But we’ll start with the truth—what did you do?"

You hesitated, then confessed, "I… drank all of Mydei’s pomegranate juice. I was thirsty! And it was just sitting there, looking—"

"Delicious?" Phainon finished, smirking. "You’re lucky I’m good at lying."

"Lucky doesn’t even cover it. I don’t know how to thank you," you admitted, a gentle smile appearing on your face and Phainon crossed his arms, his smirk widening. "I can think of one way."

Your stomach did a little flip. "Do you want to go out on a date?"

He chuckled, blue eyes shining with adoration, "I was going to suggest you replace the juice, but now that you mention it… I won’t say no."

You flushed, but you couldn’t help but laugh. "It’s settled then,"

"At least for now, my lady," he teased, making you wonder how draining Mydei’s pomegranate juice wasn’t the worst decision you’d made after all.

© MYDERIS. do not translate, plagiarize, or steal my work.

[moonstruckme]

hiiii! I’m usually a very quiet reader, but I just had to request something for prince!sirius too! 

I had in mind that she needs to learn how to ride a horse (besides all of the other things she needs to learn) and is scared of horses. So, when she's not in her official practice, maybe she and Sirius are riding out together and he tries to calm her anxiety?

It's totally fine if it doesn't ignite that writing spark

Thank you for requesting!

cw: some fear/trepedation of horses, talk of family expectations/fitting into high society

prince!Sirius x princess!reader ♡ 1.1k words

For all your loveliness, Sirius has watched you embarrass yourself in many ways since he’s met you. Some he can help with, like nudging you in the direction of the correct fork or telling you when a particular courtier is trying to make a fool of you, and some, like when you accidentally light your skirts on fire standing too close to the fireplace, he unfortunately cannot. 

This, Sirius thinks, is something he can help you with. 

He should probably be embarrassed to admit he’s been watching you, but really he isn’t. There isn’t all that much to do for a visiting prince in the hours between meetings and events, and Sirius has found that whether you’re with him or otherwise engaged, you tend to dominate his attention. Also, the lawn where you have your riding lessons is viewable from his window. 

You’re not a terribly cloddish thing by nature; a bit awkward at times, yes, but that seems permissible when you’re walking in new shoes and cumbersome dresses into unfamiliar situations. The way you hold yourself on your horse seems a stiffness more borne of mental unrest. 

You’ve been given the oldest, gentlest mare in the stables for your practice, and still you sit taut as a drawn bow on her back. 

It’s humiliating to watch, honestly, and as someone who cares for you Sirius can’t allow it to continue. He’s supposed to be your ally in all this. Fork usage, snooty courtiers, and horses, he can help you with. 

“Is Rayan not meeting us?” you ask, naming your riding instructor as you follow Sirius outside. The sun is bright, sitting central in a clear sky. Sirius feels his skin warm despite the cool spring breeze.

“No.” He tips his face up to the warmth as he walks. “He wasn’t invited.” 

A little laugh stumbles out of you. And Sirius loves to make you laugh, but he thinks he detects some trace of nerves in this one. “What, so we’re on our own?”

“Mhm. Problem?” 

“No, just…” You watch him approach the stables skeptically. “Who’s going to let us in?” 

Sirius meets your stare as he gives the front door a push, letting it swing open. Your answering smile is worth all the gold in his family’s coffers. 

“I shouldn’t be surprised.” 

“No, you shouldn’t.” Sirius winks at you. He learned long ago that a flirtatious smile and a genuine eagerness for conversation could get him anywhere; after a friendly chat this morning, the stableboy was more than happy to prepare things for the two of you and leave you to your own devices. 

“You’ve got to start learning to throw your weight around,” he says, going to fetch your mare. “You’re a princess.” 

“I don’t identify with that,” you counter lightly. Staying, Sirius notes, well away as he leads the horse outside. “And I don’t think I’d like to throw my weight around.” 

You don’t say it with a hint of judgement. You really are too sweet for your own good, sometimes. You take the reins when Sirius passes them to you, but even after he’s collected his own horse and mounted, you’ve made no move to get on. 

Sirius wants to laugh as you eye your horse warily. She really is a lovely thing, dappled gray with a dark mane and emanating calm even as you fret and fidget at her side. 

“She’s not going to bite,” he says, meeting your worried gaze with a smile. “Do you want a hand up?” 

You look like you’d rather scurry back inside, but you take Sirius’ hand, allowing him to encourage you into the saddle. It’s a clumsy process; you suck in a breath when your mare stirs at your shifting weight. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay.” Sirius grasps your arm before remembering it’s not you he’s supposed to be soothing. He sets his hand to the horse’s flank. “You’re both okay. She’s just an old girl.”

“I know,” you say, voice heavy with dread. “I feel like I’m going to break her poor old back.” 

He grins at you. “Is that what you’re so afraid of? That you’re going to hurt her?” 

You go a tad sheepish. Not quite looking at him, one shoulder lifting. “I’m afraid we’re going to hurt each other,” you admit. 

Sirius laughs. “Gorgeous, this old girl has pranced around with men twice your weight on her back. She can handle you.”

Still, you look wary. Sirius takes your hand and brings it to the mare’s neck. He encourages you to stroke it slowly. 

“See?” he says. “She’s a sweetheart, too. You’re suited to each other.” His own horse stirs beneath him, restless. “Mine, however, is ready to go. Come along.”

He starts out at a slow pace without waiting for you to follow, and is gratified when you do. Your posture straightens immediately, tense and unnatural. Sirius reaches over to poke your middle. 

The sound that escapes you is half cry, half laugh. You twist away from him, instinctively directing your mare to put distance between you. 

“What was that for?” 

“You need to loosen up.” Sirius jabs for you again, pleased when you pull the reins to evade him. “Look, you’re guiding her perfectly. You’ve got it, doll.” 

You look down at your mare like she’s done this all on her own. At another gentle tug from you, she turns until you’re ambling along parallel to Sirius again. 

You gnaw your lip as though mistrustful of this newfound competence. “I don’t see why I need to learn this. How often am I going to be expected to ride a horse?” 

“More often than you’d think.” He winks at the bemused look you send him. “Relax, you look good up there.”

You huff a laugh, looking away as you do whenever he gives you a compliment. One of these days, Sirius is going to get you to take one. “The list of skills I need to pick up just to exist here…” You blow out a breath. “Your resumes must be insane.” 

“Our what?” 

You gawp, and Sirius grins. 

“Joking. We have heard of those even within royal society.” 

Another huffed, begrudging laugh. But you’re loosening up, your posture easing and grip loosening on the reins. You look almost comfortable. 

“You can nearly put this one on your resume, though,” he praises you. “You likely won’t ever need to go faster than a walk like this. Just work on looking a bit more regal and you’ll have it.” 

You shoot Sirius a suspicious look as you straighten your shoulders. “Don’t poke me again.” 

He teases back, “Don’t be so awkward, and I won’t have to.”

[nevertheless-moving]

So You Just Killed Palpatine

In Which, Much To Obi-Wan Kenobi's Surprise, While Dealing With The Consequences of One's Own Action's Can Be A Lot, It Isn't Always Entirely A Bad Thing

originally inspired by this and this from anon and husborth Part One, Part Two, Part Three ... Part Fo ... uh ... there's memes somewhere... Anyway Here's Part Five:

Obi-Wan blinked awake, head cloudy and body heavy, as if under unusually high gravity. But no, there was the all-too-recognizable ceiling of the temple healing halls, its mosaic ceiling drifting in lazy, clockwise circles.

What did I do this time? Wait, there was something I had to tell the rest of the Jedi...something important...

Oh dear, he was on the good painkillers, wasn't he?

“Obi-Wan?” someone familiar asked, voice and force presence ringing with a startling jab of hope.

“Bant?” he tried to reply, only to be met with burning pain in his throat. The only thing he managed to get out was an unintelligible coughing fit which pulled sharply at his gut.

“Take it easy!” she urged, moving into his blurry line of sight. “You’ve had extensive abdominal surgery, and your throat was — was crushed rather severely — it’s going to take more time for the grafts to heal.”

Obi-Wan nodded, chastened, before cautiously starting the process of pushing himself up in bed, Bant hovering nervously all the while. The effort made his muscles ache and the room spin faster, but things settled down once he was sitting up.

He looked around, sagging in relief at a small oily handprint on one of the otherwise sterile visitor chairs. Anakin had been here recently, and was in good enough health to be tinkering. Good, that was good. That was important.

He suddenly realized half his vision was obscured and sluggishly raised a hand to his face, only to find heavy cloth.

“I’m sorry, we weren’t able to save your eye,” Bant said softly. “Once you’re a little more healed we can discuss artificial or bioengineered replacement options.”

She plucked a cup off a counter overcrowded with a dizzying array of flowers. “Here, drink some of this if you’re feeling up to it, it’ll make talking a little easier.”

Obi-Wan accepted the drink, only to feel it slide out of numb hands. Bant gently closed her hands around his, helping to guide the drink to his lips. He grimaced at the taste.

“Bacta infused water,” she apologized. “You’re going to be drinking bacta infused liquids for some time, I’m afraid.”

A wave of exhaustion swept over him and Bant set the cup down as Obi-Wan sagged.

“Anakin?” he managed to rasp out.

“Anakin’s fine, he’s completely safe,” Bant said with a comforting squeeze of his shoulder. “He’ll be annoyed to know he missed you waking up, he very much wanted to be there.”

Obi-Wan was going to say something else, but sleep dragged him under first.

//

Obi-Wan opened his eyes — his eye — to the sight of Quinlan Vos scowling over a datapad. The dark spot on the left side of his vision was more noticeable than before. What the kriff did I do to myself?

He shifted, irritated at how lethargically his body responded. The pad fell to the ground with a clatter as Quinlan lurched towards the bed.

“Obi-Wan! Hold on, let me — you’re supposed to have the water before you try to talk.”

Quinlan helped hold up a cup and straw so Obi-Wan could take several short sips of the unpleasantly viscous and vaguely pineapple flavored water.

“How are you feeling?” Quinlan asked, hovering with uncharacteristic anxiousness.

Obi-Wan paused to think. “Weak,” he replied in a hoarse whisper. “How long have I been...”

Guilt flashed over Vos’s face. “You were in and out of Bacta tanks and surgery for a full two weeks. And then another week in an induced coma. And then another week in a self-healing trance. You had...a lot of internal injuries. I’m so sorry Obi-Wan—this is all my fault.”

Obi-Wan stared at Quinlan blankly for a moment. His face helped the memories to start trickling in.

"Yes..." he said slowly. "Yes — you knocked on my door... you said... Vos... please just... just tell me if I hallucinated anything — did I try to assassinate the Chancellor of the Republic?"

"I'd say you succeeded," Quinlan replied, half-smiling, half-grimacing.

"Did I — did we think he was a pedophile, only—”

He had to pause, throat burning as he fought a coughing fit. He swallowed more disgustingly flavored water before finishing the thought.

“—only to discover that he was in fact not sexually grooming Anakin, but was doing a number of other terrible things? And did he... did he — did he electrocute me...”

Obi-Wan’s voice trailed off and he took several more sips, throat filled with an uncomfortable fizzing sensation.

Quinlan nodded, wincing. “I mean parts of that you know better than me but yeah, that matches with what I understand.”

“Hm.” Obi-Wan finished the cup, mulling it over.

Quinlan Vos muttered something under his breath that Obi-Wan couldn't quite make out, but the word "dramatic" almost definitely featured.

Grey crept in around the corners of his vision, then black.

//

When he opened his eyes — his eye, he'd have to get used to that — next, he was greeted by a convenient and increasingly familiar cup at his bedside, as well as Master Windu. Obi-Wan quickly reached for the water, clutching it in both hands and taking a long drink.

Spurred on by the sight of the Master of the Order, he also reached for the urgent thought from earlier, wanting to get it out before he slipped back under —

“Chancellor Palpatine’s a Sith Lord!!”

The corners of Mace’s eyes crinkled. “Yes, Knight Kenobi," he said. "We’re aware of that now. You’ve proved it to be the case quite publicly. And ended the threat with remarkable... thoroughness.”

Obi-Wan head fell back. “A Sith Lord... the Chancellor!” he said in amazement. He was relieved to find his throat only barely twinging at his outburst.

“It truly stretches the imagination,” Mace agreed tolerantly.

“You’re telling me!” Obi-Wan took another long drink, head spinning.

Master Windu smoothed a crease from his robe before saying, with extreme delicacy, “I don't wish to pressure you into speaking before you've healed... but I admit, we’ve all been wondering how exactly you knew.”

"He force choked me and electrocuted me with Sith Lightning. Lighting! I thought that was a myth!” He drained the cup, hands shaking slightly.

“Yes,” Mace said quietly. “The healers were amazed you survived so long... let alone had the strength to fight back with such strength. We’re all extremely grateful to the Force for keeping you alive long enough for us to reach you.”

Obi-Wan made a mental note to feel grateful later, but his mental space was a bit of a mess at the moment, and he wasn't entirely certain he had filed it away correctly.

Master Windu sighed. “We would have been there sooner but I’m afraid none of us had any idea that you were going to confront a Sith.” A twinge of reproach crept into Windu's voice, but Obi-Wan set it aside along with the gratitude, to be examined at some later date. Ideally when his head felt less full of bantha wool.

“I had no idea,” Obi-Wan said numbly.

“Well you figured it out before the Council at least,” Mace replied, not without humor.

He couldn't help but snort. “Yes, because he shot lightning at me. I mean the force choking happened first but... lightning. Lightning!”

Lines formed between Master Windu's brows as he looked down at him. “As much as it pains me, I understand the risk assessment in not telling the High Council about a Sith Chancellor of the Republic, and goading a public fight was probably the best political move possible. But why start the confrontation so privately? It seemed rather — apologies, we can debrief on that when you're rested. I presume you were trying to get a confession about the droid and clone armies?”

Obi-Wan stared at Mace Windu wide-eyed.

“The what.”

The lines on Master Windu’s face deepened. “The... Kamonian clone army — the clones of Jango Fett...”

Obi-Wan’s eyes got wider. “Jango Fett—you mean Galidrean Jango Fett? The Jedi Killer? Palpatine made a clone army of him?”

Mace was silent for a long while, staring at Obi-Wan as though he were a particularly concerning puzzle. Obi-Wan chewed on the straw, mind wandering to whether or not it would be appropriate to ask Master Windu for a refill. As unpleasant as the flavor was, the fizzing did make his throat feel better.

“Knight Kenobi...” Mace finally said, speaking very slowly. “Do you remember why Chancellor Palpatine attacked you? The soul healers were quite certain the Sith Lord didn’t breach your inner shields but I think you might be suffering from some memory loss...”

His left eye itched; he resisted the urge to reach for it. Obi-Wan sank further into the cushions behind him, trying to think. Were there gaps in his memory? No, as usual, it all seemed a fairly clear path from Quinlan Vos knocking on his door to Obi-Wan ending up unconscious in the healing halls.

“Why Palpatine starting attacking?" he mused. "I suppose he wasn't going to just dance around forever — force, when he dodged my blaster shot, I simply could not understand how — it all happened so fast, but the next thing I knew I was pinned against the wall by a Dark —”

“Stop,” Master Windu ordered, raising his hand. He took a deep breath, radiating calm into the force.

“Do you remember what Palpatine said immediately before you shot him?” he asked patiently.

Obi-Wan shifted, feeling a pang of awkwardness as he muttered the answer guiltily under his breath.

“I’m sorry, Knight Kenobi, I didn’t quite catch that.”

“He said, ah, ‘you’re a Jedi’ and ‘you can’t kill an unarmed man.’”

Mace Windu stared at Obi-Wan.

There was a long pause while Obi-Wan fidgeted with the straw. He was starting to feel that perhaps his thoughts were even less clear than he had assumed them to be, and he was not handling this conversation particularly well.

Windu took another deep breath, radiating slightly less calm then before.

“Knight Kenobi. Why did you shoot the Chancellor of the Republic?”

“...I was trying to kill him,” Obi-Wan said, looking down.

“Why?”

Obi-Wan mumbled.

“Kenobi, speak clearly.”

“Well—ah—it actually turns out that I had misunderstood...I mean it had certainly seemed like...but he wasn’t actually...doing exactly what I thought...”

Windu stared at the recumbent Knight, who flushed.

It occurred to Obi-Wan for the first time, that, considering his plan of running away and becoming a bounty hunter was no longer possible nor, perhaps necessary, he could have misrepresented some of the timeline of events vis a vis sith slaying. Or better yet, pretended to have memory loss.

In his defense, the whole experience had been extremely unnerving! For all that weeks had clearly elapsed for everyone else, Obi-Wan was still processing Chancellor Palpatine shooting lightning out of his fingers.

A wave of exhaustion flooded over him, and he sank into it with relief, recognizing now the sickly sweet painkillers pulsing through his blood, clouding his thoughts and pulling him under.

//

Unfortunately, Mace Windu was still there when he woke up. Kriff.

He opened his mouth to try and backtrack, but Windu raised his hand, cutting off any poorly thought out explanations.

Master Windu took a deep breath, radiating very little calm by this point.

“Let me get this clear. Nod if yes, shake your head if no, did you go into the Chancellor’s office with the intent to assassinate the Chancellor of the Republic?”

Obi-Wan nodded.

“Did you know he was a Sith before you went into his office?”

Obi-Wan shook his head.

“Did you suspect he was a Sith?" Mace asked, slightly desperate.

Obi-Wan shook his head, cringing in apology.

“Before you went into the Chancellor’s office, were you aware that he was working with the Kaminoians to commission a clone army?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, biting back questions.

“Did you know he was working with the trade federation to commission a droid army?”

Another no.

“Did you suspect anything about these armies? Anything about a larger plot to destabilize the Republic? Destroy the Jedi? Become Emperor?”

Obi-Wan shook his head at each question, eyes widening with shock.

Mace Windu was radiating absolutely no calm at this point.

“Knight Kenobi...” he asked with a pained expression. “Did you... attempt to assassinate the Chancellor of the republic for personal reasons born out of some sort of misunderstanding? Only to inadvertently save the Republic?”

“I mean once I found out that he was a Sith... I of course changed tactics... and personal is a bit... but... that... Well. More or less sums the situation up, yes.”

Mace WIndu stared at Obi-Wan Kenobi, who wasn’t sure if he should keep talking or not. He didn't entirely trust his ability to explain things well at the moment, and ultimately decided to err on the side of silence.

Obi-Wan vaguely wished he could slip into sleep, but was fairly sure that it would be rude and possibly obvious to do twice in one conversation. His throat itched and he considered once again asking for more water, ultimately deciding against it.

Minutes passed, Master Windu staring blankly at the wall above Obi-Wan’s shoulders, while Obi-Wan's mind started to wander.

Who on earth had been paying to feed a clone army? How was Quinlan doing at getting Anakin to brush his teeth? Am I going to prison? Ohh that’s why the force was so insistent on killing Palpatine. Maybe that would help explain things to Master Windu? Though 'the force told me to' is  generally not considered a good excuse, in of itself, for acts of violence...though this is a rather unique situation...

Eventually Master Plo walked in, letting out a pleased noise.

“There he is! The Hero of the Republic!”

Mace Windu closed his eyes.

“Is that what they’re calling me?” Obi-Wan asked weakly, when it became clear Master Windu wasn’t ready to address everything wrong with that.

“Oh! Your drink is empty! Mace, Vokara was very clear with her instructions!” Master Plo scolded.

Mace Windu didn’t reply.

Plo-Koon snatched the cup, filling it up from a pitcher across the room and talking boisterously. “Well, the public is throwing around a lot of titles, but since you already had Sith Slayer...”

“Oh dear,” Obi-Wan said faintly, accepting the terrible water and drinking it for lack of anything better to do.

Plo-Koon patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. “I’m afraid to tell you it’s going to be very difficult for you to dodge commendations for your actions. Now that you’re awake you’re going to be faced with quite a backlog of requests for ceremonies and interviews—”

Obi-Wan choked. “Ceremonies?” he repeated in a higher pitch. He snuck a look at Master Windu. His eyes were closed, though he didn't appear to be meditating.

That probably wasn't a good sign.

"Yes, ceremonies," Plo-Koon said with far too much relish. "Turns out there are quite a lot of old traditions on the books regarding —"

Master Healer Vokara Che entered the room at brisk pace. “I thought I heard voices — I will remind you that before he is the ‘Sith Slayer Returned’ or ‘The True Chosen One’ or any such nonsense he is first and foremost my patient.”

She gave a sharp look to both Council Members. Plo-Koon nodded contritely while Master Windu continued to not say or do anything.

“The — no, no Anakin’s the chosen one —" Obi-Wan sputtered. "Anakin’s the reason — people aren’t actually calling me that, right?” he asked, drugs doing an admirable job at suppressing the panic he was fairly sure he was going to feel later. The device in Master Che's hand beeped faintly in answer.

“That and more, young Kenobi,” another familiar voice suddenly added, below his field of vision. “To collect your honors, expect to survive, you did not, mmn?”

“Master Yoda! No, I—I really didn’t expect... any honors... at most I was hoping that people would understand...” Obi-Wan protested weakly, shooting Windu a beseeching look which yet again failed to garner a response.

Che rolled her eyes, flipping a lek behind her somewhat sarcastically as she attached a glowing device to his chest. "Of course you didn't."

He barely refrained from wincing as several needles bit into him.

“Perhaps we would have had a better chance of understanding had you left us any of your evidence,” Master Koon chided gently.

“Put together the pieces we did, in our time,” Yoda added, hopping up on the nightstand to affectionately poke his shoulder.

Obi-Wan leaned back, feeling increasingly light-headed.

“Your vitals look good, all things considered,” Master Che said, sounding smug. “You should be back to getting into trouble in a year or so.”

Obi-Wan jerked his head in her direction, aghast. “A year?!”

“Busy, you will be, if work you wish. A seat, open there is for you. Comfortable chair, good company, important duties.”

Master Windu’s eyes squeezed further closed.

“What?” Obi-Wan asked, bewildered.

The healer scowled. “You were bleeding heavily into more or less all your major organs, including your brain. Really, it would be faster for me to list organs that weren't damaged. The fact that you recovered at all is only because Master Gallia conducted ill-advised on-scene amateur healing—"

"Is she alright?" Obi-Wan asked.

"—ill-advised, but successfully non-self-detrimental amateur healing, and I’m a miracle worker, and, credit where credit is due, you’re a stubborn bastard; not to mention your padawan has far too much energy to throw around — you really should consider enrolling him some healer’s courses—”

“Is he alright?” Obi-Wan asked, more urgently.

“He’s fine,” Master Plo reassured him with a gentle hand on the shoulder. “Everyone is fine except for you. He just tired himself out a few times, but Knight Vos has been keeping a close eye on him, and Anakin understands that the best thing at this point is to let you heal under your own power."

“Can I see him?” he asked. His voice was growing hoarse despite the dutifully refilled cup.

Vokara’s face softened. “Of course. He’ll be stopping by after class, in another hour or so. He’s been very punctual.”

“Master Windu? Alright are you? Silent, you have been.” Mace flinched upon being prodded with a stick. He opened his eyes, pinning Knight Kenobi with a steely gaze. Obi-Wan shrunk back, but Windu just sighed.

“You...” he trailed off. He stood up slowly, as if the movement pained him.

"I —" he said authoritatively, quieting the room. "—am taking a sabbatical. Call me when—” Windu gestured vaguely. “—you all sort out this mess.”

He walked out.

A long moment passed. “What did you tell him?” Master Plo finally asked in a hushed whisper.

"Ah..." Obi-Wan paused, limbs heavy with fatigue. "Well — you see— " He closed his eyes, feeling slightly cowardly as he did so.

//

When he opened them again, the light hadn't shifted nearly as much as other inbetweens, and his bandages hadn't been changed. Master Plo was still there, speaking quietly with Yoda.

Shit.

"Not too long that time," Vokara said, pleased. "I've lowered the dose on some of your medications, it should make it easier to stay awake."

"Oh. Good," Obi-Wan replied.

"Young Kenobi." Plo-Koon moved closer. "I dislike pressuring you in your current state, but... Master Windu appears to have left the temple. We were wondering..."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth, then closed it again, considering. His mind was, at last, starting to catch up with mouth. “He asked me... some questions. About how I came to suspect Palpatine," Obi-Wan said carefully. "It would appear I may have forgotten some details. About the evidence...Master Windu was — distressed regarding what I did and did not recall."

Vokara nodded. "Memory loss is completely understandable with the type of injuries you recieved."

"Alright, it is, if remember everything, you cannot," Yoda added kindly. "Our own investigations, ongoing are."

"So if I, ah, can't quite remember everything that led up to our fight," Obi-Wan asked, feeling guilty, but force, that blank look in Master Windu's eyes. "I mean I definitely remember the force willing me to decisively seek his end — really it was unusually loud about it," he added hastily. "If that helps."

Yoda nodded slowly. "This reason, understand we do. But, present to the public, perhaps not a good idea would be."

"Yes," Obi-Wan said. "I think — I'm not certain but I believe Quinlan Vos may have helped me collect some evidence..."

"Said as much, he did. Wait to confer with you, he wanted."

Obi-Wan sagged backwards with relief. "Yes. Yes! We had security concerns... Palpatine was so highly placed..." he trailed off.

"Considering Sifo-Dyas's and Count Dooku's entanglement in all this I can hardly blame you for hesitating to reach out to the council," Plo-Koon said, exhaustion audible even through his vocoder.

Obi-Wan choked on his spit; the following coughing fit was soon rewarded with a fresh bacta drink from Vokara.

Dooku?? Sifo-Dyas??

"Perhaps after I speak with him I'll be able to better assist with the current investigations," he offered hoarsely after recovering.

"Of course," Plo-Koon said gently. "Again, we apologize for interrogating you so early into your recovery but you really can't imagine the public and political scrutiny we've all been under —" He hesitated. "Master Windu was joking about taking a sabbatical right now, was he not?" he asked, sounding strained. "I know he's been under a lot of pressure, but surely you having memory issues couldn't—"

He was thankfully interrupted by the sound of small feet moving rapidly and a gangly body launching itself at highspeeds through the doorway.

Vokara just managed to snag the back of Anakin's robes before he crashed into Obi-Wan's medbed.

"Padawan Skywalker," she said, voice tight. "I believe I have mentioned the numerous injuries your master is recovering from and the need for —"

"Care in my movements," he said sheepishly. "Apologies, master, thank you."

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said, something in his chest relaxing at the sight of his dangling student.

"Obi-Wan." His padawan's eyes immediately started filling with tears.

Obi-Wan reached out instinctively. "Oh, Anakin."

"Give you a moment, we will," Yoda said, hobbling out, as Vokara sighed, then gently placed his pupil on the floor.

"Of course," Plo-Koon agreed. "Take all the time you need." He hurried to catch up with Yoda. Obi-Wan heard him begin to say, "Mace can't actually be leaving us to deal with this clusterfu—'' Then the door closed, and Anakin was weeping at his bedside.

"Shh," Obi-Wan said, tugging his padawan up, ignoring the protestations of his abdomen. "There, there, it will be alright."

Anakin crawled up, movements ginger and uncertain around Obi-Wan's numerous injuries. Together, they somehow managed to shift Obi-Wan enough for Anakin to fit beside him. His padawan shook with suppressed sobs, and parts of him were almost certainly hanging awkwardly off the edge of the bed.

Obi-Wan ran one hand through Anakin's hair, the other hand gently resting where he could reach without twisting too much, probably an elbow, though the boy was pointy enough these days that he couldn't be sure. If Obi-Wan was also shaking, well. There was reason enough.

"Sheev," Anakin finally said, oozing misery and an overwhelming tangle of other unpleasant emotions into the force.

"...I know he was your friend—" Obi-Wan said, after what was hopefully not too long a pause. This was another conversation that probably wouldn't be helped by painkillers.

"But he wasn't, really." Anakin curled up, even more miserable. "I know. I should let go."

The side of Obi-Wan's head throbbed. On second thought, painkillers were the way to go here. "That's not what I meant," he said. "He was a friend to you. He's gone now. Because of me, your master. And... I'm sure you've found out a lot while I've been asleep. I can't imagine a single padawan learner who wouldn't be struggling with their emotions right now. I'm struggling."

"I'm angry," Anakin said into his side. "Master, I'm so full of anger."

"You think I wasn't?" Obi-Wan asked dryly.

Anakin hiccuped a sob. "I'm angry at everyone."

"It's alright, Anakin," Obi-Wan soothed. "You'll work through it in time. I'll be here to help, whenever you want. Even when I'm the one you're angry with."

Anakin sobbed another minute, force presence roiling, before finally pulling himself in with a deep breath, and wiping his nose on the sheets. "You looked so cool when you were angry," he mumbled into Obi-Wan's side.

"Oh force," Obi-Wan groaned. "Of course there was holofootage. Of course you watched."

"Are you... still angry?" Anakin asked.

Fuck.

Obi-Wan tried to think of the right answer for a padawan learner. His head throbbed again.

"Honestly? Right now I'm mostly just tired. I feel like I was run over by a pack of bantha. It's never a good idea to try and deal with large emotional gnarls while you're this exhausted, remember that my young padawan."

"You've been asleep for years," Anakin whined. "How are you still tired?"

"Years?" he asked, amused.

"At least three," Anakin huffed, curling up against him.

Obi-Wan stroked his hair in peaceful silence for a moment.

"...Did you really smash in his skull with a metal chair to protect me?"

"I would do a lot of things to protect you," he confessed. "I'm sorry Anakin — I should have talked with you when I grew concerned with his behavior. I felt at the time I had to act swiftly, but I worry I only caused you more pain."

"It was a really cool fight."

"...Thank you, padawan."

"Can you teach me how to choke people with my ankles like that?" he sniffled.

Obi-Wan groaned internally. "Of course, as a Jedi, violence—" 

"Violence is our last resort," Anakin interrupted. "Right, yeah —but if it is needed—"

"—Such as when someone," Obi-Wan said over him. "After careful consideration, is found to be both politically insulated and positioned to commit great further harm—"

"Actually, I think you, the person who killed my trusted friend, lecturing me on why he was ultra especially irredeemably evil is traumatizing, even more traumatizing than all those holo compilations of you —"

"Oh force above, of course there's — oh. Oh no — please don't tell me—"

"The latest Jizz music," Anakin said, far too gleeful.

Obi-Wan groaned. Unfortunately, the extra movement in his chest triggered an admittedly ghastly sounding coughing fit and Anakin immediately lost the small edge of grace he had managed to cultivate during their back and forth.

"Master?" he asked urgently. "Master — hold on — I'll go get—"

"I'm fine," Obi-Wan rasped. "Any more of that —"

Anakin was already scrambling to fetch the pitcher.

Such a good boy, he thought affectionately, watching him pour and carry over a glass with the same care others might have when handling molten gold.

Obi-Wan drank with a reciprocal amount of delicacy, knowing his padawan was watching falcon-eyed for any wasted drops.

"Perhaps we should finish this conversation a little later," Obi-Wan said, once his airways calmed down.

Coughing should not be this exhausting.

"Of course," Anakin said, subdued, but he crawled back into bed readily enough when Obi-Wan patted it.

“Really, though —” Obi-Wan started to say, feeling it was duty to try and wrap up the lesson, but he was fortunately cut off before he was forced to figure out exactly what that lesson was.

“It’s alright,” Anakin chimed comfortingly. “We have time to talk about it, master. Can’t you tell?”

“Hm?” Obi-Wan replied, fighting the droop of his eyelids. 

“The force clears,” Anakin said, voice sonorous. “The dark retreats.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan’s eyes started falling closed. “That’s nice.”

“So we have time. To figure out the rest.”

 “Very nice,” Obi-Wan murmured.

His padawan curled against him, force presence like ocean waves rocking him to sleep.

“The force says it’s going to be alright,” Anakin whispered, wonderingly. “It’s going to be alright.”

Obi-Wan smiled, then once again slipped back to sleep.

[simpurnatural]

"Feelings" || Requested Oneshot

XO, Kitty - Min Ho Moon x Fem!Reader

Note from Nat: "I received this oneshot request from @plutoOooO! And this is also how I'm announcing that requests are finally open again! *fireworks and confetti* Enjoy loves <3"

Warning(s): Cussing, Smut, Overstimulation,

Kitty plays Matchmaker once again while everyone's preparing for Chuseok at KISS. This leads to both yours's and Min Ho's untold feelings to step into the spotlight once and for all. Feelings quite stronger than just a crush

"I've brought the shopping!" you called out as you stepped into the boys' dorm room. "Q? Kitty?" you say, kicking off your sneakers and heading into the kitchen.

"Hey Y/n!" Kitty greeted after stepping out of her bedroom. "Thanks so much for wanting to help with Chuseok." she smiled as she gave you a hug.

"Of course! I had no idea that so many of us were staying in town for the holiday," you replied, pulling away from the hug. "So, what exactly are we making? Because all I did was follow the list," you said with a little laugh.

"It isn't exactly me and you cooking but rather you and Min Ho," Kitty explained with a knowing grin, which made you heartbeat quicken.

"Me and-"

"-Yep," she nodded, "You guys will be able to spend proper one on one time, totally undisturbed,".

Your lips formed a thin line as you turned to the kitchen sink, “I think I’m going to be sick,” you coughed.

“You’ll be fine, and plus-this is the perfect time to clear the air,” Kitty reminded, patting your back gently.

You and Min Ho had been friends for years. And for half that time, you’ve had feelings for the playboy. And what came with being a playboy? Countless girls, random or never seen again after a few days spent with the friend group.

You always felt as if Min Ho would never want something serious, let alone possible ruin such a good friendship with you. So, for such a long time, you pushed your thoughts and feelings for him away.

No one realized how deep your feelings for Min Ho were til Kitty showed up. She made it her mission as a self-proclaimed Matchmaker to get you two together. She says that “There is definitely some chemistry between you guys.”

“Hey Y/n,” a voice said cheerfully, that voice belonged to Min Ho. “Thanks for getting the shopping,” he beamed as he walked towards you.

“Okay I gotta get going,” Kitty said quickly, dismissing herself from the conversation and the front door shut behind her.

“Hi,” you said with a tight smile, awkwardly moving to grab a couple pans and pots. “What’s on the menu today?” you ask, trying your best to not act weird.

“Well, I do have a method, so I’ll just need you either chop or stir stuff,” Min Ho said as he got closer and placed an arm around your shoulders. “I deem you, my sous chef,” he joked but you couldn’t even find anything he said humorous.

Your stomach felt as if it was flipped upside down. And maybe you were sweating? Maybe you were turning pale? Who knows. But all you knew was that you had no escape and no backup.

“Y/n?”

You snapped out of your nervous daze and looked back up at Min Ho. His face flashed with concern, catching on to your lack of attentiveness.

"Ah yes, I'll just be stirring and chopping away," you say, hands motioning both actions before you quickly dropping them-feeling like a proper idiot.

"Right, let's get to it." Min Ho says, migrating all the veggies and herbs on the counter to the sink. "How come you didn't go visit family Chuseok?" he asks.

"It's quite the journey just to be there for 48 hours or less," you shrugged, clearing the counter of any shopping bags and trash. "What about you?" you questioned.

"As you know, my mom and I usually celebrate Chuseok together, but she couldn't this year. So, she sent me a basket." Min Ho explains, pointing to the gift basket that sat on one of the bar stools.

"That's sweet of her," you commented, glancing over at the present.

Yeah, but my dad? Not so much," he chuckled, drying all the veggies and placing them next to the cutting board. "Can you get started on these?" he requested with a smile.

"Of course," you nodded, absent-mindedly reaching for the onion that was still in Min Ho's hands. "Oh-I"m sorry," you said quickly; after watching it drop to the ground.

"Are you alright Y/n? If you're not up to it, I can get figure this out on my own," he said as he plucked the onion from the floor, wiping it down with a paper towel.

"I'm okay, it's just-" you paused.

"It's what exactly?" Min Ho asks curiously, looking deep into your eyes with his coal black ones.

You took a deep breath before saying, "Okay, Kitty left me here with you so that I could confess my feelings for you". Minho merely blinked so you continued to ramble on. "But clearly, the pressure of me explaining how I fell in love you but also don't want to risk our friendship literally eats my alive!"

"-And I totally understand that you don't feel the same way about me because of that blank look on your face. I just don't know how to stop feeling the way I do about you. I've tried talking to other people and even going on dates but always realized it's you who I wanted to be with." you sigh, and Min Ho squinted slightly with his head tilted to the side.

"-Don't even get me started on the total tens you bring to our hangouts," you add, referring to the girls he brings around. "You're out of my league and such a catch. So honestly, I seem pretty stupid for thinking you might even as much as like me back." you groan as you stormed out of the kitchen and began putting your shoes back on.

"-I just can't do this. I'll just leave." you say, your face feeling hot as you reached for the door.

"Do I not get a say in this?" Min Ho asked, grab hold of your wrist gently.

"I don't feel like hearing you shut me down right now," you grumbled as you turned back to face him.

"Y/n, I'm not going to," he replied with a smile, making your eyes widen.

"What?" you said quickly.

"Why would I? I've fallen for you so hard; a lot, not a little bit." he confessed. "I always thought you were too good for me," he said, now taking proper hold of your hand in his. "You are just so perfect and I'm just me," he shrugged.

You stood in the entryway in disbelief. Min Ho had felt the same way this whole time and you had not a single clue about it.

"If I had known sooner, I would've already done something about it," he said with a smile as he stepped forward and cupped your cheek.

"L-like what exactly?" you stuttered, your breathing hitched as your nose brushed against each other.

"This." Min Ho muttered, pulling you in for a kiss.

Min Ho's soft lips pressed gently against yours and it felt as if they moved in sink. Your arms were slung around his neck as his found their place at the small of your back.

The world felt still but also as if it were spinning, with your eyes shut-all you could focus on was on close Min Ho had pulled you in. It was like he didn't want to ever let you go or move on from this moment. Perhaps you both became the center of gravity, and everything was being put into place.

Both of you pulled away instinctively for some air and your eyes fluttered open, settling on Min Ho's gaze. Your faces remained merely a few centimeters apart, sharing the same breath before leaning once again.

This time, there was a certain kind of passion in the way your kiss felt. Your heart was pounding as your hands ran through Min Ho's well-kept hair. His lips left yours's and began a trail to your jawline, down to your neck.

A gasp escaped your lips as he began suckling on your skin. Quickly being able to identify your sweet spots. Your knees felt as if they were going to give out as he pulled your blouse down for more access. His lips felt like a heaven, you could only imagine how the rest of him was going to feel.

"Oh my-" you moaned as Min Ho worked his way around, leaving marks wherever possible.

"Yes?" he mumbled against your skin, watching how your thighs shifted against each other. "Tell me what you want," he said as he pulled away from your neck.

"You, I want you," you sighed as your chest rose and fell heavily.

Min Ho's hands drifted to the hem of your trousers, his fingers pulling the zipper down. You held breath as he pulled them down nice and slow.

“Is this, okay?” he questioned, his hand hovering over your clothed pussy. “Y/n?” He said as he looked up and into your eyes.

“Y-yes,” you nodded as he also pulled down your underwear, helping you take completely remove any clothing from your lower half.

Min Ho then stood up and led you around the kitchen and motioned for you to sit at one of the barstools. You wordlessly complied, getting comfortable in your seat just for Min Ho to pull you in. Both literally and mentally, you were on the edge of your seat.

He then placed himself between your legs, his face directly in front of your dripping cunt and your legs over his shoulder. Min began kissing your inner thighs, teasingly getting a bit closer every time.

“I wish I knew sooner how wet I get you,” he smirked before brushing his fingers against your fold. “How badly you wanted me,” he says, beginning to rub your clit gently.

In a repetitive circular motion, his finger worked your pussy. His eyes darkened with lust, watched as your chest rose and shuddered with every breath. Your head thrown back, but he could still hear you heavy breathing and soft moans.

He then pushed a finger through your fold and slowly. You gasped as you felt him slid into your pussy with ease. Min Ho chuckled due to the noises that escaped your lips, provoking him to insert a second finger.

Curving his finger slightly against your walls, your own hands were holding your position steady on the stool. Just then your phone rang, you and Min Ho both froze for a second.

“I think that might be Kitty,” you sighed as Min Ho pulled from you. “Hey,” you say after grabbing your phone and answering the call.

“How’s everything going?” She asks excitedly, unaware of the literal position you were in.

“Everything’s going just fine,” you reply as Min Ho pulled you away from the counter, guiding you to the couch. “What’s up Kitty?” you question.

“Well, I just wanted to know what the status was on the food,” she replied as you watched Min Ho take off his pants and boxers. “We are just setting up a couple more decorations,” she adds, while you both sat down.

It was difficult to focus on the call when the guy who just fingered was stripping down. His toned abs were where your attention was at. Your eyes noticeably widened and focused down south.

“Yeah, we’re a little behind but can definitely get things done in 20-30 minutes?” you guesstimated. “I sort of did forget a few things, so we ordered for them to be delivered,” you lied, Min Ho moving you into a laying down position and your legs in the air.

“Are you okay?” Kitty questioned with worry in her tone, “Your breathing is a little heavy,” she reasons while Min Ho took his position on top of you.

“I’m f-fine,” you tried to assure as he caressed the tip of cock against your folds. “Just a bit peckish,” you add.

“Well did you guys talk it out yet?” She asks, you could visualize the giddy smile on her face.

“Yeah, and you know-“ you began before the phone was taken out of your grasp.

“Now’s not a good time Covey,” Min Ho huffed, tossing his head back to remove his sweat gelled hair back. “I need Y/n-“ he blanked, “-For pot stirring.” He blabbered quickly before hanging up.

“Pot stirring?” You snorted as Min Ho placed your phone on the coffee table.

“What? Did you want me to tell her what were really up?” He asked with a brow lifted.

“No,” you replied, your face turning bright red.

“Better be quick,” he sighed, “Hope you can take it,” he smirked as he finally pushed his cock deep inside your cunt.

With one of your legs over his shoulder, Min Ho began slamming his hips against yours. A rush of cold air hit your chest as Min Ho lifted up your top along with your bra.

You were a moaning mess as Min Ho continuously drilled into your walls. Every thrust becoming rougher and quicker than the previous one.

“So bloody wet for me,” Min Ho smiled smugly, “You can’t even say anything back-too busy taking this dick?” He wondered before slowing down.

“Why’d you stop?” You muttered almost incoherently, being able to lay still.

“Turn around,” he instructed, and you did as you were told. “I just wanna feel you come for me,” he grunted, shoving his cock back in your cunt.

Min ho propped you up against his chest. His hands greedily squeezing your tits. Your hands found their way reaching and gliding through his hair.

“You are so sexy,” Min Ho whispered in your ear. “Your pussy feels so good around me,” he says, placing kisses along your neck.

“Fuck,” you gasp, feeling a knot begin to form in your stomach.

“You’re close huh?” He muttered as you feel his hand trail down to your clit.

Min Ho started rubbing your clit and the blissful feeling that overcame you sent you into overdrive. You moans became increasingly pornographic as he hastened the speed of his hips.

“F-feels too good,” you slurred, “Min Ho-fuck it’s too good,” you said again.

“Well, I’m not gonna stop,” he murmured, looking down and watching your ass bounce on his dick. “Not til you cum,” he huffs.

“Stop,” you moaned, your cunt squeezing around his length, “Oh God,”

“Cum for me,” he said, the speed of his hand and his hips not wavering.

Your body shivered as a wave of ecstasy hit you, but Min Ho didn’t stop. This time, he bent you over and got his dick slamming into your sweet spot.

“Cum with me,” Min Ho huffed, his hands pulling you in repeatedly by the waste

“I c-can’t,” you whined, your vision becoming blurry.

“You pussy squeezing around my cock shows otherwise,” he moans, the clapping sound of your hips echoing through the dorm.

You felt like you were gonna pass out, everything felt too good. The way he kept fucking into you made you begin to shake.

“That’s it,” you hear Min Ho say, your cunt tightly entrapping his length again. “Don’t let me leave this pussy til you cum,”

As if on que, you came once more right as Min Ho pulled out and covered your back in his hot seed. You finally slumped onto the couch, eyes shut and breathing hot.

“I don’t think we’ll never not do that’s,” he chuckled, going to grab a towel.

Gently, Min Ho wiped you down and due to you lack leg function, he helped you put your clothes back on.

He also quickly threw a meal together, enough to cater for everyone meeting for Chuseok. You admired him from the couch, since he insisted you rest while he cooked.

Still shirtless, he prepared everything for the trek back to main campus. Since you were going to have to walk, Min Ho decided to carry everything.

“Where have you guys been?” Q questioned; everyone was already finding their seats.

“Busy whipping up a good meal,” Min Ho replied as he handed off the food to Kitty. “Sit with me?” He asked as he turned to you.

“Of course,” you smiled as you both went to sit with your group of friends.

When everyone was finally seated and Kitty gave a little speech, Min Ho held your hand. Looking over at him, he gave a cheeky grin.

“I’m glad to have spent it with you,” he smiled.

“So sappy,” you joked as Kitty sat across from you before eating the dinner on your plate.

“You guys look like you did more than talked,” she whispered, and your eyes widened.

“And what exactly did they do Ms. Covey?” Lee questioned between bites.

“Made-uh such a delicious meal,” Kitty said quickly. “Chuseok really brings people together,” she laughed forcefully.

“Right,” Professor Lee muttered.

JAN 2025

[myownwholewildworld]

vi. O Seanalair - acta, non verba

chapter 5 | series masterlist | ao3 pairing: conqueror!marcus acacius x ofc!reader. summary: you irremediably find yourself in Marcus' bed again and make a discovery which may help your people. a/n: i have a genuine question. do people like long chapters? because i can't seem to stop when i start writing for these two D: as always, all interactions welcome, i do appreciate you liking, sharing and/or commenting! take care 💖 warnings: 18+, mdni. mentions of war, death, marital abuse, etc - i think you know the drill by now. attempted SA (not by Marcus), callie fights back. fluff and angst. some internal battles. smut. unprotected piv but no creampie. oral (m!receiving). fingering (f!receiving). sleepy morning sex. aftercare. marcus is 49, ofc!reader (callie) is 26. unbeta'd. if i'm forgetting anything, please let me know! w/c: ~11.3k. dividers by @\saradika-graphics taglist at the end (let me know if you want to be added/removed please!)

You couldn’t stop thinking about him, about what happened yesterday morning. Every time your mind wandered, it ran back to the exact moment Marcus buried himself in your slick heat for the first time.

How he made you feel. How he ensured you were comfortable and thriving under his touch. How he talked you through it and paced it down to make the whole experience even more pleasurable. How his fingers found refuge in your pussy, working you expertly in preparation to take him. How your cunt deliciously burnt with that heavenly stretch.

How you were gushing now for him, craving the fullness of his dick, pussy desperately clenching around nothing.

“Dè air thalamh? (What on earth?)” you mumbled to yourself, shaking your head to clear your mind.

The fact that the memory kept coming back―to your despair―was dangerous, extremely dangerous. Yes, sex had been good ― no, fucking amazing. But it didn’t mean anything, nothing at all.

A means to an end, that’s all he is, you mentally reprimanded yourself.

It shouldn’t bias you, despite how good he had fucked you. You couldn’t get… attached, because whatever this was, it was doomed from the beginning. That was what you had decided the first time you locked eyes with him in the battlefield, and you were not one to go back on a promise. Especially one you made to yourself ― to avenge your family.

To your disgust, you had to admit to yourself that it was harder to keep the focus on that now, knowing how satiated he had left you yesterday. It was truly shameful that you were looking forward to getting fucked stupid again.

In a couple of hours, hopefully. You couldn't wait to have Marcus plunge in and out of you. In... Out... So deep inside…

You bit your bottom lip down out of pure, horny desperation and pressed your knees together, containing the dampness that threatened to soak your underwear if you didn’t rein your thoughts in.

“A bheil thu nad shlàinte, mo bana-phrionnsa? (Are you well, my princess?)” Brighid’s soft voice pierced through your wet daydream, bringing you back to reality.

Blinking rapidly, you gave her a stern nod. A muted reply, since your throat felt dry with desire.

“Are you sure, my lady? You look flushed. There’s a fever going around in the village,” she pushed, lips pouted with concern.

Fuck, kill me now.

“I’m fine, Brighid, don’t worry,” you croaked once you found your voice.

Your cheeks were burning and had nothing to do with an illness. Unless feeling cock-drunk could be considered an ailment. Maybe it should.

“Are Daimh and Iona sick? Perhaps you―”

“They are fine. It’s just hot in here with the hearth running on full blast,” you cut her off, slightly embarrassed by the fact that Brighid had noticed your flustering.

But if she had been fucked the way you had been, she would fully understand. Of that you were sure.

Not by Marcus though, she can find another man. He’s mine.

What the hell was that about?

To avoid any further interrogation, you grabbed the jug, filled to the rim with wine. Veering around, you exited the kitchen promptly. The cold air of the hallway was most welcomed ― the Gods knew you needed it, considering you were about to enter the room where the personification of your wet dreams was.

As soon as you reached the double doors to the great hall, you quickly scanned the room. Every night the great hall of your family home would be desecrated with the presence of your enemy. The legionnaires were chatting and laughing loudly, goblets clinking with their contents spilt all over the wooden tables.

Once a sanctuary for your family and clan, you barely recognised it anymore. The beautiful tapestries that your ancestors had woven had been taken down, the stone walls bare and undressed. Even with the giant fireplace crackling nearby, it still felt cold. It even smelt different ― musty and sweaty, the lingering stench of death they carried coating the air.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you made your way to the dais. Only when you went up the wooden step did you realise that Marcus’ chair was occupied by a man you didn’t recognise, and Maximus’ spot was empty. Another sweep of the room told you what your blood already knew: for whatever reason, they had stepped out.

“Expecting someone else, puella (girl)?” the man on Marcus’ chair cackled as you approached, interrupting his talk with Cassius.

Raising a mighty brow, you decidedly ignored him, pouring wine in Cassius’ cup.

“I am talking to you, you stupid, savage woman,” he sneered.

Before you could think, the man laced his arm around your waist, forcing you to sit on his lap. Your blood ran hot with rage, palms itching to slap him until he fell unconscious. The need to turn around and spit on his face was a call from the Gods themselves.

But you couldn’t, not in a room full of Romans who would behave exactly the same way. You were at a loss here, and you only wished that when the day came and you encountered this bastard on the battlefield, you could slit his throat.

Clutching the jug between your hands, your eyes landed on Cassius. He was watching you with intent, almost studying you, but it was pretty obvious that he was not about to keep his man in check. If anything, he was about to fucking smile.

“Where’s that arrogant look now, huh?” the man cackled, pressing you against his tiny bulge.

“Do you really think you can threaten me with that?” you hissed, referring to the small erection brushing your buttocks. “That is the size of a barnacle.”

You definitely hit a nerve there, because the man pushed you off his lap hastily, grunting something unintelligible, but heard enough to know he was cursing you.

How bad you wished you could empty the contents of the jug on his face. For a long minute, you really considered it, running through the scenario and its outcomes in your mind ― you would be fast enough to catch him off guard, throw the jug at him and make a run for the small door on the back of the dais, latching it behind you and running up the spiral staircase to your father’s solar.

However, before you could act on any of it, Marcus’ deep voice interrupted your train of thought.

“Move, Brutus. Now,” Marcus snarled.

You turned around at the fury his tone distilled, his eyes locked on the man you now knew as Brutus. His pupils had darkened, his jaw tightened. Despite the tenderness he had shown you in the bedchamber, the General was an imposing man outside of it, and Brutus knew as much.

He soon scuttled away like the vermin he was, while Cassius straightened his back, eyes fixed to the front, avoiding contact with his General. Odd.

Maximus was a few steps behind Marcus, closing the door you had planned to escape through. The thought of both of them in your father’s solar didn’t sit well with you, but there wasn’t much you could say without blowing your cover.

“Dux Meus,” you bowed your head down, stepping aside to let him sit.

His opaque orbs lingered on you for a second too long, softening ever so slightly as he studied your composed expression.

You gave him a feeble smile, averting your eyes so people would not notice the brief exchange. By the way Maximus cleared his throat and a smirk curled his lips, you had not been as subtle as you had originally thought.

Once both men were seated, you proceeded to fill Marcus’ goblet. Your hand was still trembling with the fury that coursed through your veins, causing the jug to almost kick the wooden cup. Thankfully, Marcus caught it before it spilt.

His eyes shot to yours, and they were screaming at you. His mouth didn’t open, but his orbs spoke for him very loudly: Are you okay? What’s happened? They were mad with worry ― an honest one you didn’t expect at all. The hand that a second ago was straightening the cup, was now softly clamping around your wrist, the shaking gone under his soothing caress.

The weight of his sight, of his concern for you, was momentarily overwhelming.

“I’m okay,” you whispered before he spoke, giving him a reassuring nod.

“Are you―?”

“I’m fine, truly,” you insisted, worried that people would pick up on your hushed conversation.

Marcus finally let go of your wrist, and soon after you stepped off the dais to fill other goblets.

For the rest of the night, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Before his private conversation with Maximus in the castle’s solar, you had been acting all lively and relaxed, but since his return, your features had been tamed into feigned calmness. Marcus could feel the anger simmering beneath your skin, seeping like venom dripping off a serpent’s fangs.

Wished he had stayed so could understand what had changed, but his duties to the Empire should come first. That morning, he had learnt that Agricola had been ordered back to Rome, claiming that the Caledonian tribes had been subdued, and his replacement would be Sallustius Lucullus. This news came like a shock to Marcus, who could not wrap his head around the fact that Rome was willing to withdraw the vast majority of troops to assist with other conflicts elsewhere in the Empire. It meant they would be left alone in an island that was far from conquered, despite what the false propaganda said.

They only had a couple of weeks before Agricola left with his men, leaving Marcus’ battalion, and other small military pockets around the area, in a very compromised position. In light of this new situation, Maximus and Marcus had discussed going to the Roman fort of Cawdor, just fifteen miles east of Inbhir Nis, to talk to Agricola before his departure.

But now, seeing your composed demeanour, he wished he could have stayed behind. It was wrong―putting you first before the Empire―but it couldn’t be helped. You lurked in the confines of his mind, ever present in his thoughts. It was even worse considering the ring that symbolised his marriage to another woman. Everything he thought he stood up for, crumbled the moment he had his first real taste of you.

His chest still swelled at the memory of you all pliable around his girth. How you had creamed, coating him in your arousal, the first time he sank into you. How you whimpered and hissed his name in ecstasy, the most beautiful melody he had ever heard.

However, it wasn’t only that what made him swoon, but how you blindly trusted him with your pleasure. How, despite being mistreated in bed, you had let him show you how a man should treat a woman. How fucking fulfilling it had been for him to see you fall apart, rediscovering how sex should really be like.

Marcus had never felt this way before ― caring, giving, in tune with your body. The connection that tethered him to you transcended the sexual aspect your relationship had taken. For the first time in decades, his heart was not as empty and cold. He found himself craving your eyes, your proximity. Not because he wanted to bed you again―he did―but because your presence put him at ease, even when war seemed to be knocking at his door again.

“I take you’ve finally bedded her,” Maximus’ jest forced his orbs onto his friend’s.

Marcus rolled his eyes to the back of his skull, his shoulders slouching. Sometimes he wished he could sew Maximus’ lips together or punch him square in the jaw to shut him up.

Briefly looking around the table on the dais, it seemed like the other men―Cassius, Valerius, Brutus and one of Valerius’ men―were immersed in a conversation of their own.

“That’s none of your business,” he gritted between clenched teeth.

Maximus palmed his shoulder, a hearty laugh reverberating in his chest.

“I’m just saying, the sexual tension every time she comes on the dais can be cut with a sword, my friend. Good for you, about damn time,” he congratulated Marcus, removing the hand from him. “I don’t understand why you want to keep it under wraps though.”

“Because some could think I’d be fraternising with the enemy,” Marcus admitted to his friend, knowing he could confide in him. “And it’s far from it.”

Maximus’ thick brows bunched up, confused with his reply.

“Because you’re fucking one of the savages’ whores? Like every man in your legion―”

“She’s not a whore,” Marcus quickly cut him off, anger firing at the distasteful insinuation.

Maximus was taken aback by his response, silence filling the gaps in the dead conversation for a minute. Marcus looked at his Commander, his own brows knitting now too. How dared he refer to you as a prostitute? The insult burnt his insides, he’d hate himself if your reputation was sullied because of your involvement with him.

“Alright, she may not be a whore, but she is a savage. Don’t lose sight of that,” his friend replied, the mock gone from his eyes. “If she’s not a prostitute, then what does she want with you?” he hushed, tone dropping an octave so people would not listen. “Do you trust her?”

Marcus’ frown deepened, his friend’s words gnawing at him. He had not even contemplated the scenario Maximus was implying ― he thought he knew you enough now, and you wouldn’t betray him like that. Not after yesterday’s passionate morning.

“Again, none of your damn business,” he sneered, emptying the Carmo wine in his mouth with finality.

“But it is my business to worry about your safety, dammit. I’m your second in command,” Maximus sighed, a hand pinching his nose. “I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, Acacius. There’s a lot at stake here, as you well know.”

Maximus’ reminder of his duty to Rome just angered him more.

The night was coming to an end, with the Roman soldiers scattering and walking back to the barracks. You had seen most of Marcus’ retinue leave the dais too, and you hoped you could catch him alone before he retreated to his chamber.

You were returning from the kitchen with an empty wooden tray, hoping to clear the last of the goblets off the tables and call it a day. Saying that you were looking forward to fuck Marcus tonight was an understatement ― not even the small incident with Brutus could put out the fire between your thighs.

As you ambled along the corridor, you almost collided with someone. Gripping the tray tight so it wouldn’t fall, you looked up to apologise, but the words stuck to the back of your throat.

Brutus. His cold hands clamped like a vice on either side of your waist, fingers buried so deep in your skin it would bruise. He slammed you against the stone wall, his body flush with yours and his nauseating mouth too close for comfort.

Your heart was racing wildly as your mind was coming to terms with the situation, drafting a plan.

“You’re not so fierce now, are you? How dare you insult me in front of my Commander, you slut?” the stench of his breath reached your nose, and you couldn’t help but make a face. “You are nothing more than a cockroach. If I want, I can squash you under my foot like the filthy bug you are.”

Before you could snap back with a retort, he grabbed the tray you carried and threw it to a side, then his mouth covered yours. His lips were cold and tasted horribly, his tongue trying to find an opening into your mouth. You jostled, but the grip on your hips was so tight you could barely move. His stubble prickled the skin around your mouth as Brutus kissed you sloppily, your teeth still shut.

Vile rose up to your throat, your initial panic transforming into steadfast resolution. This fucking cunt was about to get what he deserved. Who did he think he was? He was nothing, no one. A man you could best in the battlefield with one hand tied to your back and the other one holding a wooden sword, all whilst blindfolded.

When his hands loosened on your waist to very harshly squeeze one of your breasts, you took the opportunity. You lifted your knee up hastily, hitting him right on that tiny bulge he seemed to be so proud of.

Brutus started wailing, crouching with his hands protecting his groin. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you pushed him back ― snarling now, ready to fight. Quickly you snatched the tray off the cobblestone and as you were lunging forward to hit his head with it, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, freezing you in place.

Bewildered, you turned around in the arms that held you to redirect your anger at whoever dared to stop you.

Your resolution faltered the moment your emerald greens met Marcus’ brown irises.

Marcus didn’t understand what he had walked into but was pretty sure that Brutus was about to be in the receiving end of your wrath. Instinctually, he had jumped into the situation, hoping to deescalate it by holding you in place so you wouldn’t kill the man. Because if you hurt the man, Cassius would ask for your head, and he would be between a rock and a hard place.

But the moment you veered around in his embrace and Marcus saw the reddened, wet skin around your mouth, he understood.

For a second, he only stared at you, eyes fixed on your swollen lips. His brain had gone quiet, but the sudden cacophony of his own voice asking for blood brought him back.

“Marcus,” you whispered breathlessly, and his stomach churned at the unspoken plea.

His hands freed your hips to cradle your face, delving into your glassy green eyes. His heart flipped, torn with the idea of what Brutus had tried to do.

“Are you okay?” he asked the question he wished he had said an hour before.

“Aye,” you replied with a small voice.

It didn’t calm him down. In fact, he was seething with rage, blood boiling in his veins with a protectiveness unfamiliar to him.

Once he ensured you were alright, he liberated you from his grasp and faced Brutus. Commandeered by his own anger, Marcus seized Brutus by the neck of his toga, forcing him to stand up and pinned him against the wall as one of his hands clutched around the man’s neck.

Marcus really contemplated the idea of killing him. He wanted the man beheaded and six feet under. How dared he touch you? Force himself on you? Even if you weren’t his to claim, it wasn’t right ― Marcus could never put up with how badly some men treated women, so he would never allow it in his ranks.

“Marcus, don’t,” you called from behind, your soft hand squeezing his shoulder. He looked over it, jaw clenched, to glance at you. “I think…” you paused, “just let him go. I have a bad feeling about this.”

The sense you talked into him finally filtered in, and Marcus released the purchase he had on Brutus, taking a step back. His hands curled into fists at his sides ― he really wanted to smash his skull in, but you were right.

“Get out of my sight,” he muttered, and Brutus quickly obliged.

The moment you two were alone, he looked for you. His hands reached out, one sliding around your waist and his other thumb ghosting over your bottom lip. His heart was still pounding, ears ringing with fear. He couldn’t ask how you were, knowing it was an obnoxious question given the circumstances.

Your gaze locked in on his ― blown pupils, crazed darkened irises. But as much as he searched, Marcus didn’t see any dread in you. Had you been so used to being mistreated by your late husband that what happened unfazed you? How desensitised were you?

What he did see was the ghost of a past memory haunting you, the haze of years of abuse clouding your eyes. You didn’t need to speak it; he could feel it.

His heart cracked at the thought. And what pained him most was that one of his own men was who brought back the pain he had not seen yet swirling in your eyes. And it was so prominent now, he almost folded, lungs burning with ragged breaths.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, removing his hand from your face, afraid his touch would incite any more distress.

Your head tilted, eyes regaining part of the spark that reeled him in.

“You have nothing to apologise for, Dux Meus,” you uttered under your breath. “As a matter of fact, I wasn’t in need of rescuing, I was about to smash his head in and have his brain scattered around the floor.”

Despite your smile, there was no joke in your low tone. He realised you actually meant it. And he shouldn’t be surprised, considering he’d already seen you take a man’s life with no regrets.

“I know, but I failed on my promise.”

“What promise?” you asked, confused, with a cocked brow.

“I swore to you that I wouldn’t let this happen again. And it has, right under my nose,” Marcus confessed, the ride back to the castle after the attack still vivid in his mind. “That you wouldn’t need to defend yourself.”

Your brows lifted, expression softening and lips pouting. Were you trying to hide a grimace?

“It’s alright,” you shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

You said it as if it was meant to make him feel better, but it had the opposite effect on him. If anything, it made him feel worse.

The faded sound of footfall approaching broke the moment, both of you untangling from each other and taking a couple of steps back. Marcus watched one of the other maids scurry along, her scared eyes dancing between the two of you. For a moment, it seemed like she was about to intervene in defence of you.

“Do Ghras (Your Grace),” she mumbled in your language, one Marcus didn’t understand a word of.

Quickly, you gave her a stern look and the girl’s eyes widened dramatically, then bowed her head down and ran towards the double doors as if the devil himself was chasing her.

Your eyes shot back to his, pupils enlarged again, studying his face with a vehemence that would have forced any other man to look away. But he didn’t, mesmerised by the strength you were showing after what had happened. Any other woman in your situation would be upset, but here you were standing as if nothing of relevance had happened.

His eyes lingered on your face, deciphering how you really felt. The darkening purple mark tarnishing your bottom lip really concerned him, to the point where he couldn’t stop himself from raising his hand towards your face.

Your head snapped back away from his touch. Marcus flinched at the rejection, slightly hurt ― but he couldn’t blame you for reacting that way, he should have known where the limit was. It was understandable that you didn’t want to be touched after…

His blood began to boil again ― Brutus would pay, he would find a way to make him suffer.

As his hand dropped back to his side, you took a step forward towards him ― your fingers lacing around his wrist. The caress of your palm against his skin was warm, but your gaze was warmer. Marcus froze in place, overpowered by your eyes.

You averted your beautiful orbs, looking down to the cobblestone, as your free hand tucked away a stray red curl behind your ear. That mere gesture flooded his chest, replacing anger with care. Despite how strong-willed you were, there was this aura of innocence around you; one he had not fully perceived until yesterday morning. Now that Marcus thought he knew you a tad more, every piece of the puzzle started falling into place.

But you still surprised him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Trained reaction…” you trailed off with half-lidded eyes, your teeth sinking in the cushion of your bottom lip.

You didn’t need to finish that sentence for he knew how it ended. Your late husband was, once again, sullying your thoughts.

Heart clenching in his chest, Marcus reached for your cheek again, this time successfully. His thumb hovered over you bruised lip, afraid he would inflict more harm than good.

“No need to apologise, mel. It’s okay…” Marcus hushed, still madly worried about your well-being. “Did he… did he hurt you elsewhere?”

You nodded before nuzzling your cheek against his open palm. That simple action had his heart racing and melting at the same time. He really needed to get a grip, or he’d lose his damn mind over you ― something he could not afford amidst impending war.

“My hips,” a very long pause, “my breast.”

If his blood had been boiling before, now it became sharp icicles scratching the insides of his veins. Hearing you say that actually caused him physical pain. His heart had stilled, then resumed its maddening beating, deafening him.

When he trusted his voice had returned, he cleared this throat.

“Can I check, please?” There were no veiled intentions behind his ask, just honest consternation.

You shyly nodded after a brief pause.

You followed Marcus through the corridor, his forearm softly hugging the small of your back and his broad hand splayed on your hip. The possessiveness of his embrace was weirdly soothing.

Checking over your shoulder, you ensured no one witnessed your affectionate exchange. And once you arrived and took shelter in your old bedchamber, the tension gripping your shoulders dissipated.

But the anger inside you still burnt hot. Brutus deserved what you were about to do, had Marcus not interfered. But when he did, something about the whole night nagged at you. As if there was a bigger plan at play, one you could not construe yet.

“Your lip’s bruising, mel,” his voice tinged with concern forced you out of your thoughts.

When he touched it again, you winced. Brutus the Brute had done a bit of a number on you, one you hoped to repay in the near future.

“Can I see, please?”

Well, this was not how you expected the night to go, because judging by Marcus’ rigid stance, sex was out of the cards.

With a heavy sigh, your fingers lifted up your long skirt, exposing your loincloth. Bunching up the fabric, Marcus’ hand and gaze dropped to your mid-section, fingers careful when pushing down the hem of your underwear. His caress venerating, too respectful in comparison to how he treated you yesterday morning ― the contrast abysmal.

His eyes squinted, nostrils flaring, but he quickly tamed his furious expression. Looking down to where he was focused, you understood his reaction. Where Brutus’ fingers had sunk in the flesh of your hips, he had left deep, purpling imprints ― an aquarelle with shades of red, lilac and blue.

“What a cunt,” you hissed when Marcus’ thumbs ghosted over the bruised skin on your hips. His eyes swiftly looked up at you, apologetic. “Not you, him,” you clarified.

You hoped your half joke would lighten his temper, but it didn’t. If anything, his brown orbs darkened even more, a black veil consuming his dilated pupils.

Awright, no jokes when he’s in a bad mood, you mentally noted.

“Show me, please,” he husked, eyes loitering on the neckline of your dress.

His gravelly words shouldn’t have sent a shiver down your spine, but they did. This wasn’t the fucking time to get all worked up, but the effect he had on you had seeped further into your being than what you originally thought.

I’m so fucked up.

With a trembling hand, you pushed down the frill of your neckline, your left breast spilling over. You held back a raspy breath when the cold air of the room hit your sensitive skin and felt your nipple perking up.

You didn’t dare to look down, eyes fixed on Marcus’ torn face. His lips had fallen into a flat line, jaw clenched as if chiselled by the Gods themselves. And while you were burning hot under his inquisitive stare, his eyes were… cold.

Were you broken past the point of repair? Had Iain shattered you so much, altered your perception of sex? How would you, otherwise, explain why you were roused right now when you should surely feel at least shaken up?

By Red Cap’s beard, I’m sick. There’s got to be something wrong with me.

Sick with lust, perhaps. One you needed to control, because when Marcus cupped your breast, there was nothing sexual in his hold.

Pure, utter worry painted his features, his brown irises opaque.

“I’ll kill him,” he muttered under his breath.

When his thumb stroked the skin under your aureola, your eyes finally drifted down.

Seeing the growing bruise around your nipple was a goddamn reality check, as if someone had thrown a jar of icy water on you. It looked bad, really bad. You didn’t think he had such a tight grip on your breast, but the rush of adrenaline had drowned any other feelings, letting survival guide you.

It reminded you of a time when your body was covered with marks and lesions, and you would do your utmost effort to conceal the damage Iain had caused. How you made up excuses when your siblings queried about a bruise you could not camouflage―oh, don’t worry, I’m just clumsy―or a new limp―ah, it’s fine, I fell off a horse―that had you barely walking.

How you hid under layers of textile when visiting family so your father wouldn’t feel the guilt of shipping you off like cattle to the slaughter.

“For peace you must,” had been his final words before Iain snatched you away from the comfort of your home.

Fiercely loyal, you played your part dutifully. For clan you had silently suffered for a decade, not even once questioning your father’s decision. You endured what you had to, so your people would know peace in their time.

Never once did you let the façade tumble down. Never once did you show your fear, your desperation ― your thirst for freedom.

Never once, until now.

Seeing those bruises again brought back all those feelings you had deeply buried and thought forgotten. Panic bubbling within the walls of your chest, you blinked rapidly to clear the tears that threatened to fall.

Years of abuse crawling back, clamping your throat, stalking your mind ― it all came back in a trice. Your heartrate quickened, the sensation of nasty ants creeping along your skin unbearable. Trying to calm your agitated breathing, but the memories only making it all worse.

Suddenly you felt the searing pain when Marcus brushed your skin again. Not physical pain, but the kind that had tangled itself up around your entrails and become a part of you ― strangling your resolution, your very being. Silently suffocating you for a decade.

Why was it all coming apart now, out of all the fucking moments?

“Hey, look at me, hey. It’s okay, mel,” Marcus’ mellow voice pierced through your eardrums.

Wet eyelashes fluttering, you glanced up at him. For the first time, feeling lost in a loch of torment.

Marcus’ chest squeezed at the sight in front of him.

Your face tilted up, a downcast expression distorting your beautiful features. Your mouth had parted, letting out a trembling sigh that had him shaking with you. Your eyes, always bright, sparkly green, were now of a deep shade of a darkened hue, your blown pupils swimming somewhere in there. And they became darker with every spent tear that wetted your cheeks.

He searched your face, impending dread consuming his heart as your curated front crumbled. Something primal twisted within him, a sense of protectiveness gripping him tight.

Marcus couldn’t see you like this ― with your defences down, as if you trusted him enough to hold the pieces of you together. For a fleeting instant it felt overwhelming, staggering him.

But he knew what he had to do ― what he wanted to do. Marcus let go of his gentle grasp to envelop you in his embrace, hoping to bring you some sense of tranquillity. One of his hands softly rested on the back of your head, fingers lost between your red curls.

At first, your arms were just loose by your sides, but soon enough, when the warmth of his body seeped into yours, you laced them around his waist, hugging him in return.

Time became ethereal, and Marcus wondered if what saddened you had anything to do with today, or past events. You had hinted at a life of marital negligence, and he couldn’t help but ponder the atrocities you had to survive. Society wasn’t kind to women, at least in Rome. Was your culture any different in that respect? How had your life been?

Not easy, by the looks of it. And it pained him realising that, especially after seeing the fierce side of you. The part of you that intrigued him the most, that reeled him in despite the wedding ring on his finger.

How could someone even dare break your spirit? How did Brutus even dare to breathe in your direction?

“I’ll kill him,” he reiterated in a hush, lips pressing on the crown of your hair.

“No,” you muttered, leaning back to let him dive in your determined eyes. “I think that’s what he wanted. What Cassius wanted.”

“Cassius?” he repeated after you, confused.

You paused, lips pouting, and then nodded with averted eyes.

“Aye. There’s something about him that is not quite right… Do you trust him?”

Why was everybody making him question other people’s loyalties today? He couldn’t afford the doubt, not when Agricola’s departure was just around the corner. Marcus needed as many men as possible, and he had to trust them.

“Yes, I do. Don’t worry about him, or about―” he stopped himself before Brutus’ name leaked. “Let’s not talk about them now. Come sit.”

Marcus carefully guided you to his bed as you readjusted your dress, palm pressed on the small of your back. Once you settled, he turned around in search of the concoction Atticus had prepared for his wounds ― a mix of aloe, lemon juice and onions. The balm had been cool and soothing on his skin, so he hoped it helped alleviate your pain.

He snatched it off the chimney’s sill and walked back to you, handing it over so you would apply it. The pad of your fingers touched his knuckles, the feathery caress of your gentleness. When you didn’t grab it, Marcus foraged for your eyes.

“Will you help me, Dux Meus?” you whispered, tone stripped of your usual snappiness.

“Are you sure?” he found himself saying, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

You gave him a soft nod in reply, gathering your long skirt and holding it around your mid-section.

Marcus crouched down in front of you, knees cracking with the friction of time, and dipped his index and middle fingers in the gelatinous mixture. He reached for your hip, one last undecided glance at you, and then gently rubbed the composite on your skin.

You sighed at the touch, shutting your eyes, muscles visibly relaxing now.

“Does it feel good?” he asked, eyes focused on the other side now as he administered the balm.

“Aye, it’s cold. Tapadh leibh a Seanalair” you muttered, palms resting on the mattress as you leaned back.

Marcus’ brows pinched together at the unrecognisable, softly delivered words, but it didn’t stop him from pressing soft circles on your skin, hoping the imprint of fingers would disappear.

“Is that―”

“That barbaric language, yes,” you retorted, head tipped to one side, your green orbs watching him with intent.

Inevitably, he flinched. Those exact words had almost slipped his tongue when you both were returning to the castle after the skirmish in the forest. It was hard letting go of the old ways ― Romans always considered other cultures uncivilised. Now having been in Caledonia for a few months hadn’t wholly changed his mind, but he was starting to see that you all were more similar than what Rome had her people believe.

As a General, he had been trained―indoctrinated―to not see humanity in others. That was the only barrier keeping him from losing his sanity. Because if he saw other people eye to eye, if he acknowledged their humanity, then the resolution to wield his gladius would falter in battle.

And his resolution had faltered. Once.

“May the Gods protect and guide her, for her path is to become darker today,” was one of the few exchanged words that Murdoch of Inbhir Nis had whispered to him before Marcus claimed his life.

They still haunted him to this day. The piercing shriek of the female warrior still rang in his ears like a broken bell, her scream a dark omen it was hard to forget.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” was his poor attempt at apologising. You cocked a brow, expectant of another explanation, and Marcus sighed, realising that was a lie. “Perhaps I did, and for that I’m sorry.”

“Not following Rome’s doctrine doesn’t make us savages, Marcus,” you hushed, expression softening. “Just different.”

“I know that. I just― Force of habit,” he shrugged, slightly embarrassed for being called out. “What does it mean?”

“Aye means yes. Then I simply said thank you, General,” you explained, letting your skirt go after the concoction had dried on your skin.

“Seanalair means General? It sounds so different,” he thought out loud. “I like it. Although Dux Meus sounds better to me,” he ventured with a lopsided smirk.

“Does it now?” you laughed, the first time a crack of happiness making its appearance.

For a moment you didn’t say anything else, just pushed down again the hem of your neckline for him to spread the mixture on your bruised breast. He didn’t waste time, being extremely careful around the sensitive skin of your nipple as to not cause you any more pain.

“You like it when I call you Dux Meus, don’t you?” you said under your breath, voice low and laced with need.

Marcus’ sight shot up to yours in the blink of an eye, removing his hand from your chest. The unexpected tone caught him off guard, so focused on spreading the balm he almost missed the seductive inflexion in your tone.

He couldn’t reply, breath hitching at the back of his throat while a ray of warmth travelled down his spine.

His reaction felt wrong given the circumstances that brought you to his bed. Feuding with himself, Marcus froze when your hand found his cheek, cradling it. You bowed down towards him, the tip of your nose brushing his aquiline one.

“Don’t you?” you insisted, your mouth now ghosting his, testing his wavering resolve.

“I do,” he avowed, eyes fluttering close when your lips caressed his. “Callie― I don’t think this is the time.”

Your head canted back, a flash of anger swirling in your pupils, robbing him of the warmth of your mouth.

“Don’t tell me what I want is wrong. I am not going to let that bastard and his ruffian manners take away from me what I desire. Who I desire,” you retorted back. Not appealing but demanding. “I want you, Marcus, and I want you now. Yesterday you asked me to come back, nothing has changed. Is this not why you’ve taken me to your chamber?”

The carnal delivery of your words gnawed at him, your last question triggering his heart to spike, rejecting such vile idea. He was not a man to take advantage of anyone, least a woman who had barely escaped the hands of a repulsive scoundrel.

“Of course not. I wasn’t thinking of― Deodamnatus (dammit), Callie, I just wanted to help you,” he gritted, springing tall to his feet and raking his curls back in muted desperation.

You swiftly followed, rising up from the bed with unravelling determination in your eyes.

“Then fucking help me. Help me forget his hands, replace his memory with yours,” you beseeched in a hush.

This was fucked up. You were fucked up in the head, it was the only reasonable explanation to why his caress while applying the concoction had turned you on, literally a few minutes after you were crying your sorrow in his embrace.

You knew you shouldn’t, but your body thought otherwise.

And despite the wrong timing, you were serious about not letting Brutus ruin this, ruin you. He was just another notch in the weave of your life, another man who had wronged you, and you were not about to let him become more than that.

You were done with letting men dictate how you should live your life. How you should or shouldn’t react, how you should or shouldn’t feel. You had been ashamed of your sexuality your whole life, forced to be a sack of meat for a despicable man since a very young age. Marcus had soothed that fear, letting you rediscover what you actually desired, opening your eyes to a new world of wants and necessities.

No, you were not fucked up. Men were. You were just dealing with the repercussion of their fucking actions the best way you could. And if Marcus thought otherwise, then he was just part of the problem, not the solution. No matter what he had shown you so far.

Good fucking riddance.

“Faex (shit),” he exclaimed under his breath before framing your face between his broad hands.

His mouth crashed against yours, teeth colliding. The moment his tongue sank between your lips, you moaned a sigh of relief, the heat between your legs enlivened.

The desperate strokes of his tongue had you answering with fierce ones of your own, fingers quick to find the V opening on the front of his toga so one palm slid across his ribs. His skin felt like fire under your touch, and you only hoped that heat was redirected south of his tummy.

Stalking the hairy trail guiding you down, soon enough you found his manhood. Still soft and pliable, you felt a throbbing pulse shooting up his length. With a smirk, your fist clamped around his girth and Marcus gifted you with a guttural groan that you eagerly swallowed.

Slowly you began pumping him, working him hard, while his mouth ransacked yours with tidal force. His cock palpitated and you felt high with power, knowing you literally had him on the palm of your hand. Thumb swiping his wet glans, you squeezed him hard, endowing you with yet another rumble.

“I want to taste you, Marcus,” you purred against his lips, drunk with the memory of your visit to Naimh’s cottage.

“Fuck,” he blurted out, jaw as tight as a bow. “Don’t― Fuck,” he repeated after another compression on his already stimulated cock.

His resolution finally dissolved. While still gripping his shaft so he wouldn’t go anywhere, Marcus unwrapped his toga in quick motions, the white fabric falling to the floor and leaving him completely exposed to your hungry eyes.

Marcus was the fucking reincarnation of Alator, all hard edges except for the welcomed softness of his lower tummy. Your mouth watered at the sight, proving it difficult to show self-restraint.

This time around, you were not shy to undress yourself, anxious to get started. Then you faced him, both standing bare in front of the other.

And without any other words, you dropped to your knees. Marcus closed his eyes, face tilted to the ceiling, while his erection swayed at your eye level, enticing and yearning for your touch.

The second you fisted his base and led him to the damp warmth of your mouth, Marcus hissed between gritted teeth, his eyes meeting yours instantly. Suckling on his flushed head, you maintained eye contact with him, but when the musky taste overtook your senses, your eyelashes fluttered close as you gave yourself free rein on his cock.

Your tongue twirled around his glans, the tip playing with his slit to clean off the precum beading there. Then your lips trailed down his length, pressing gentle kisses on your way south to lick the heavy balls underneath. When you were satisfied with the spit covering his sacks, you lapped his underside, feeling the throbbing, feeding vein until your lips sealed shut around him again, hollowing your cheeks to make room for his delicious girth.

You went through the motions over and over again, revelling on his taste, on his growing weight on your tongue. While saliva and precum overflew, dripping down from the corners of your mouth, you looked up again.

Marcus’ heavy-lidded eyes were transfixed on you, his hand gently resting on the back of your head to feel your bobbing. His hips slanted forward when you stopped, waiting for him with an open, welcoming mouth.

Slowly he fed you, rocking his hips softly, while you remained still below him. The tip of his mushroom head kissed the back of your throat, and you irremediably moaned around his circumference, clamping your lips on him.

When he pulled back, the pop sound forced you to open your glassy eyes. A bridge of spit connected his angry tip to your swollen lips ― a connection that reached further down to your gushing pussy.

“Stop, mel. Or I’m going to come,” he pleaded, caressing your cheek with a tenderness that contrasted heavily to what you had just done.

“And is that a bad thing?” you asked innocently, blinking rapidly as one of your fingers swirled in the air between you to catch the thread of saliva and push it into your mouth, licking your finger clean.

Then you pressed a kiss on his tip, lingering with parted, waiting lips.

Marcus pouted, his fist wrapping around his base to contain himself, but couldn’t resist the urge to stroke your lips, swiping his glans a few times on your mouth.

“No, it isn’t. You’ve sucked me so good, mel, but I want to fuck you as you deserve,” he admitted, and you definitely didn’t argue.

He extended a hand towards you, which you gladly accepted to stand up to your feet.

“And I want to fuck you so good, you’re even going to forget your name,” his promise made your slick pussy throb at the expectation.

“That’s all I’m asking,” you whispered, crawling onto the silky bed.

His gaze tracked you like a wildcat chasing after a vole, lingering on the swaying of your hips as you inched forward, settling on the centre of the mattress. You saw his eyes darkened with desire, taking in the moment ― for a tad too long, because his attention drifted to the bruising skin on your hips.

“Marcus,” you called softly, shifting his attention as you coaxed your thighs apart, your sweet dripping nook in display for him.

He stilled, transfixed on your sex as if it was the first time you bared yourself in front of him. His mouth fell flat into a fine line, then the tip of his tongue flicked out to lick his bottom lip ― a simple gesture that had your pussy leaking onto the linen.

Without a second to waste, Marcus joined you on the bed posting himself between your legs, his broad frame blanketing yours as you slowly sank into the feathery cushion underneath. Your hands reached up his ribs, tracing the battle-scarred map of his skin until your palms rested on his shoulder blades, pushing him down towards you.

This time, the kiss was gentler, paced. The languid strokes of his mouth pulled a wanton moan out of you as the weight of his throbbing cock rested heavily on your mound, his balls rubbing against your puffy fold every time he leaned forward. It was feverishly intimate ― the way his nuts would kiss your sex, your clit writhing in your seam.

The soft pressure of his lips turned into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. His hand cradled your left breast with reverence, thumb skimming your pebbled nipple delicately and incessantly. Fingers intertwining with yours, Marcus brought your laced fists down your belly and past his erection.

Guiding your hand, Marcus pushed your own fingers past the cover of your seeping slit. A throaty sob escaped your lips, eyes shutting with pleasure, as the General showed you how to press tight circles on your thudding clit, leading you and your desperation right to the edge of a cliff. A now-known wet warmth pooled around the bottom of your spine, your inner walls squeezing nothing but the emptiness of your womb.

“Oh…” you cooed, back arching into his chest.

“You love that, don’t you?” Marcus teased you, his fingers moving yours against your slick nub. “You’re melting, mel. You’re so wet already, why?” You didn’t reply, brows pinching in concentration, mouth agape. “Did tasting me excite you, hm?” You gave him a little shy nod, too focused on the thunderous, pulsing feeling in your cunt. “You enjoyed sucking me, having your sinful mouth full of me… dribbling, just like your pussy is drooling now.”

His sweet talk had you gushing again, his thumb now drawing tight, precise circles on your clit as your middle and ring fingers framed it for him, for his delightful attention. The sensation was so intense, so delicious, it curled your toes as your limbs stiffened ― climbing up Beinn Uais (Ben Wyvis) was less strenuous than this.

Your lungs were burning, heaving now, but your pussy was catching fire.

“O mo chreach (oh, my goodness), Marcus― I’m coming, don’t stop,” you begged, lewd noises spilling from your mouth. “Please, please, don’t stop.”

“I won’t, sweetheart. Come for me,” Marcus purred, mouth ghosting yours, inhaling your needy whimpers, fingers insistent.

At his command, you did. Fuck, did you come… Your pussy clenched almost painfully whilst your overstimulated button pulsated maddingly in your seam ― your whole body quivered as you reached for the sky, stars bursting behind your eyelids.

And as you came crashing down, an intense orgasm hitting you from all flanks, Marcus led your fingers away from your twitching clit, down to your leaking hole. He rammed your two digits in your pliant, slimy opening, compelling you to fuck yourself throughout your blissed climax.

Your pussy wolfed down your own fingers down to the knuckles with ease, Marcus’ hand halting the movement of yours.

“Curl them,” he whispered, kissing your cheek. “Curl your fingers, touch that spongy spot for me.”

Still blissed out from your high, you followed his directions as your eyes fluttered open. His blown pupils had yours in a trance as he watched your expression transform when you found the precise point he had referred to.

Without breaking eye contact, you fingered yourself under his attentive guidance. Pleasuring yourself like this should feel wrong, but Marcus made it seem as natural as breathing. His constant reassurance became a mantra, humming his approval when your hips jerked up in ecstasy.

Suddenly, his middle and ring fingers joined yours in your tight pussy, the burning stretch almost unbearable. The feeling of fullness so severe, you started withdrawing your own hand.

“No, don’t pull out, mel. Follow my lead. I know it’s overwhelming, but it’ll be worth it,” Marcus breathed. “Trust me.”

You did. So far Marcus had shown you a path of pleasure you thought forbidden, and this was not the time to doubt him. With four fingers shoved in your throbbing pussy, the palm of your hand cradling the back of his between your thighs, you let him guide you ― it was overwhelming… but in the best fucking way possible.

Marcus knew perfectly what he was doing, because soon enough the pads of his fingers were persistently rubbing that tender spot on your anterior wall while his thumb smothered your clit yet again.

“Fuck, I-I’m coming again…” you hiccupped, whimpering aloud now as the coil inside you started tautening again.

“You’re pulsing so hard, do you feel that?” he gritted out, your walls squeezing all four fingers tight. “Such a sweet grip, mel.”

“Y-yes,” you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut as another tidal wave washed over you with an ungodly force.

You screamed Marcus’ name, tears spilling from the corner of your eyes due to the intensity the orgasm hit you with. After that, you felt your cunt beating for a very long minute, the contractions further apart as you relaxed under Marcus, all sweaty and satisfied.

“Do you think you can take me?”

Your heavy eyes flew open at Marcus’ strained voice. Looking down, you realised his cock was still resting on your mound. A constant trickle of precum had slid down his shaft, a milky puddle sitting on your skin.

Even if you were tired, you couldn’t deny him ― not when he had been so mindful with your needs. And, truth be told, you wanted him inside.

You didn’t reply. Instead, you curled your fingers around his girth and slid his glans along your slick slit, soaking him in your arousal. You lingered on your sensitive clit, rubbing it with his tip a few times until you led him down.

The moment his throbbing head kissed the mouth of your cunt, you knew you could come again, no matter how tired you thought you were. You led him in and let go of his thudding cock when he was halfway in.

You sighed, trying to relax your muscles, but your pussy had a mind of her own. His girth pried your pussy lips open and, once fully seated inside you, Marcus froze in place. His brows furrowing as you fully sheathed him, wrapping him in your wet, tight heat.

“I could stay here forever. You hug me so tight, take me so well now…” he hushed, leaning forward, his weight almost crushing you. “You only need a bit of encouragement, patience… And I am a very patient man. I’d be so happy with just making you cream, mel.”

He was right. Sadly, you were no stranger to sex, but this kind? This was so new to you, sometimes you doubted yourself ― what you were doing, how you were doing it. Something about Marcus made you feel insecure, because you didn’t want to disappoint him. For once in your life, you wanted the man to enjoy you, make you fall apart.

Your head spun around to the point of almost fainting when he pulled back softly and then back in. A wail broke free from your mouth as Marcus slowly but steadily rutted into you, picking up the pace with every mind-blowing thrust.

You dug your nails on his back, leaving bloody crescent moons behind. His mouth hunted down your lips, fusing into a deep kiss as he fucked you good and harsh. The snapping of his hips against yours filled the room with wet, squelching sounds ― the atmosphere brimming with the musky scent of sex and sweat.

Marcus dove in so deeply, you swore you could feel him in your throat. His sharp stabs hit all the right spots, another climax building up ― both of your sexes pulsing in unison, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. It wasn’t long until you were creaming around his girth again, moaning like a madwoman as another climax overtook all your senses.

The General pumped his cock into you relentlessly, fucking you through yet another wave of ecstasy. He pulsed inside and you knew were close to finding his own release. When your walls relaxed around him, Marcus swiftly pulled out, a chesty groan bouncing between the walls of the room ― his flushed, reddened glans nudging your clit as his warm spent spurted out in thick, white ropes.

His cum clung to your pebbled nub, sliding down your tacky, swollen pussy lips and pooling on the sheets underneath.

Marcus kissed your forehead before falling to the other side of the bed, utterly spent. His skin glistened under the candlelight while his chest raised in quick succession.

As your heartrate calmed down, you giggled, the most content you’d ever been. Marcus looked at you, a creeping smile curling his lips, and extended an arm towards you, inviting you onto his chest.

You were quick to accept, your blushed cheek resting on his sternum. He kissed your forehead again, a slight brush that pulled a satisfied sigh out of you.

Neither of you spoke for a while. Surprisingly, the silence was comfortable, calming in a sense. You never got to enjoy the aftermath, too busy with keeping yourself together. This was different.

Marcus was different.

But he couldn’t be. He was just another man focused on the next battle ahead, planning your demise. Whether you liked it or not, the General was your enemy, a conqueror ― the incarnation of everything you hated. The man who had killed your father right in front of you, with his expression blank and devoid of emotion.

You hated him. You should hate him. Your determination shouldn’t falter just because you were fucking him. You were not doing it for your own enjoyment; you were doing it because you had a purpose. In fact, you should be repulsed every time he put his hands on you, every time he easily sank into you, blissfully stretching your inner walls.

And despite everything, despite knowing who he really was, you still… liked him. You were not disgusted by his touch, but horny for it, craving him.

You were so fucked.

Marcus stirred under you, battling his own demons.

He knew this was wrong but couldn’t stop himself. There was a gravity around you that pulled him in, no matter how hard he fought against it. Irremediably he found himself orbiting towards you, like two stars in a colliding path.

There’s no harm in having a little fun.

But was it just that? A little fun? Couldn’t be, not when his unoccupied mind kept drifting back to you. Before he would be thinking about the next step, what he needed to do to win the next battle, but now war was far from his mind.

He wished he could shut the door and keep the outside world at bay. He wished he could live in this little cocoon with you.

But duty always called.

You had fallen asleep on top of him, so carefully he moved you off his chest. His mind was so loud he couldn’t follow you into Morpheus’ realm.

Sitting back on the bed, Marcus looked over his shoulder at you, sleeping on your side. Your face was buried in the pillow underneath, your red curly hair an angry could around you. Completely naked on his bed, you were a godsend. A voluptuous figure with generous, round breasts; your moonlight skin glistening with the product of your pleasure.

His eyes travelled down your figure, arriving at the sweet gap between your thighs. His cum was still smeared all over your mound and pussy lips, dry and tacky, a reminder of the shared passion.

Damn, you looked beautiful.

With a sigh, he got up and walked towards the basin near the fireplace. The fire kept the water lukewarm, and he dampened a clean rag and wringed it out. Walking back to the bed, Marcus sat beside you. Delicately, he pushed one of your legs aside and swiped off his spent, cleaning your folds with extreme care not to wake you.

But you did. One of your eyes fluttered lazily, and looked over your shoulder to stare at him, slightly dishevelled.

“You alright?”

Marcus smiled softly, discarding the rag to the feet of the bed as he laid down behind you, head propped up on his hand.

“Yes, I was just wiping you clean,” he muttered, kissing your shoulder.

You groaned with a smirk, pushing your sweet ass against his hardening bulge. Your buttocks rubbed his growing erection as your eyes shut again.

“Another round?” you whispered and then bit your bottom lip, wriggling your hips so his manhood found refuge in the gap between your thighs.

“You nymph,” Marcus moaned. Your heat was turning wet again, soaking his now stiffened cock. “But I can’t, I―”

“I’ll be quick, I promise,” you husked sleepily, one of your hands slipping down your belly to grab his beating dick poking between your legs. “Just a quickie, Marcus, please,” you added, leading his leaky tip inside you.

There was no discussion after that. Groaning, Marcus plunged in in a smooth motion, your velvety walls parting to greet him and hug him tight. His arm draped around your waist to hold you in place and began fucking into you from behind. You hummed your approval, Marcus paying worshipping attention to your neck, kissing and nipping at it.

When you squirmed and whimpered, your pussy clamped down around him with force, announcing your orgasm. Still rutting into you, the hand holding you down trailed down your belly to gently pet your clit.

Your moans grew louder and needier, your ass pushing back into him, meeting every thrust. You came sobbing his name, strongly pulsing around him, wetting his cock and balls with your warm cream. Mustering all the strength he could, Marcus pulled out, his dick resting between your pussy lips.

You pressed your thighs together to squeeze his throbbing manhood and cradled his glans as he pumped himself between your inner thighs, his tip kissing your clit every time he pushed in. A minute later, Marcus came undone too, his warm spent landing on your cupped palm around his mushroom head.

Marcus remained still behind you as his cock softened and both of your breathings calmed down. Your eyes were still closed, but a smug smile curled your lips.

“See? I was quick,” you retorted.

“Always true to your word,” he joked, pulling back to grab the forgotten rag. He began rubbing your skin again and you parted your legs to have him wipe you clean. “But I really need to go.”

“So soon? Where are you going?” you pouted, craning your neck to glance up at him.

“It’s almost dawn. I…” Marcus fell silent, pondering his options.

He could tell you where he was going as a test to your loyalty. Prove Maximus wrong. He didn’t know why but confiding in you felt natural.

Marcus really wanted to trust you. If nothing went wrong, then he would know he had nothing to worry about.

“I’m going to the Roman fort in Cawdor with Maximus. We need to discuss some news we’ve just received,” he explained, carefully studying your expression.

“Oh, okay,” you muttered, completely unbothered by the information he had just shared with you, as if he had just told you that today was going to rain. “I’ll leave then.”

“You can stay and sleep in, no one will bother you here, mel,” he kissed your shoulder, heart lighter, before he stood up and started putting on his black armour.

You rolled around to lay on your other side, watching him dress with your hands tucked under your face.

“Need a hand with that?”

“No, I’m okay, thanks,” years of practice made it easy. He tied the belt around his waist and sheathed the gladius, then walked towards the bed to bend down and kiss you goodbye. “There’s some more of the concoction there. Please use it.”

You nodded your agreement, still half asleep, and Marcus stepped out.

The moment the door had closed behind Marcus, you had sprung to your feet, dressing yourself in a frenzy. But knowing you couldn’t just follow him, you had paced around the room for half an hour.

You had never run faster in your entire life. Once in the stables, you had fought with Kelpie to saddle her and trotted to Bonnie’s crannog. There you had encountered Torcall, who grilled you with questions.

“Where have you been? You’ve been gone the whole night! I was worried sick! What the hell are you up to?! Don’t tell me you’ve been with him, please.”

Needless to say, you didn’t answer any of it. You were a grown ass woman and didn’t need a nanny. Plus, it was none of his fucking business.

You had not intended on falling asleep on Marcus’ bed, but you had felt so at ease, you hadn’t fought your heavy lids.

You just told Torcall that you had gotten your hands on some valuable information and needed to go again. You knew that Marcus was testing you, if you could be trusted. If you told your father’s men about this, they would take action, outing you in the process.

No, you had to go alone. If you passed his test, then you were sure he would share even more in the future, just what you wanted.

Daimh and Iona were at the dining table, breaking their fast. You had kissed each of them before vanishing again.

It didn’t take you long to track down the prints of hoofs on the muddy eastbound path. Soon you caught up with Marcus and some of his men. Maximus, Cassius and Valerius accompanied him, as well as three other legionnaires you did not recognise.

You kept your distance from them and traversed through the forest instead of the path to avoid being seen. After three long hours, you finally arrived at your destination.

You were not prepared to see all those troops at Cawdor. There were hundreds of soldiers, the fort brimming with life. At the same time Marcus and his retinue arrived, a legion did too.

Why were there so many men here? Something was going on, something that could change the course of history. Was this just a repositioning exercise?

There were no women in sight, so you couldn’t just put a cloak on and blend in as you had intended. So you remained in the shadowy edge of the forest, hidden behind a tree.

Suddenly Marcus halted and veered his horse around. Someone from the newly arrived legion stepped out on a white horse.

“Governor Agricola,” you heard Marcus say in a greeting.

“General Acacius,” the man said back.

So, this was Agricola, the man who terrorised Caledonia. You wanted to hate Marcus, but your easy hate for Agricola burnt hot. He was the one responsible for the defeat of your people, the one who had taken prisoners in boats and parade them around the coast to show others what would become of them if they rose up in arms.

“We’ve heard the news of your premature departure, Governor. We wish to discuss the defence of Caledonia in your absence,” Marcus spoke clearly.

“Not Caledonia. Britannia, Acacius. That’s its new name. Use it,” Agricola’s arrogance seeped through his stupid smile.

Britannia? The bastards had already renamed your land? How fucking dared they?

But this was huge. It seemed like Agricola was leaving, possibly taking many of his men with him. If that was the case, the number of Romans in Caledonia would drastically reduce, giving you a fighting chance.

The snap of a branch behind you startled you, quickly turning on your heels. The forest was dark, so you squinted your eyes while scanning the area.

Perhaps it had just been an animal, so you redirected your attention back to the men.

To your misfortune, they were walking through the portcullis and a second after you lost sight of them.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

You ran back to Kelpie, needing to make the way back home fast.

Finally, some good fucking news.

@orcasoul @immyowndefender @sjc7542 @fairiebabey

@thepalaceofmelanie @harriedandharassed @whoaitspascal87

@verybigvag @jessthebaker @ivoryandflame @missadangel

@pepperstories @mewantpeepaw @inept-the-magnificent

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Favour or Two

Hey hey! This weekend (Jan 25-26) I’m going to be playing drabble roulette! I’ve curated a list of characters and prompts and I’m spinning the wheel!

Character: Pete Brenner

Prompt: too nice for your own good

Warnings: this drabble includes deceit and dark elements. Please mind these warnings and take care.

Explicit, 18+. Please reblog and leave some feedback.

It’s not how you expected the day to go. Or your visit to your parents. All that anticipation to spend the day cooking with your mom and maybe even chatting on the back deck with your dad has fizzled. 

You wouldn’t call it a tragedy, just a change in plans. You have a whole week with your mom and dad, you can do this one small thing. Not that you were given much of a choice. Not by your parents and not by your empathy. 

Pete’s a nice enough guy. He must be if your dad’s letting him crash in his office. Freshly divorced, down on his luck, but still chipper. When you found him on the same couch you spent much of your teenage years lounging on, your confusion had you speechless.  

He explained, he’s just staying for a bit, just long enough to get on his feet. That day, he’s meeting with an investor for his new startup. He only needs a foot in the door and he’ll be out of your parents’ hair in no time. He just needs a ride since his prized mustang decided to pop a tire. 

Your dad’s busy with Hank next door, cleaning the eaves, and your mom’s trying out that new canning recipe and the ingredients need to be used today. So, you’re the only one left. How can you say no, you too are imposing on your parents’ kindness. 

“You’re a gem,” Pete says as he comes out the front door. You pull away from the side of the car and lower your phone. You look at him over the roof of the car as he adjusts his tie, “Not to be a diva, I just need everything perfect.” 

“No problem, ready to go?” You ask. 

“Sure, did I give you the address?” He checks his watch as he approaches the passenger side. The gold shimmers in the sunlight. You can’t help but notice all the expensive things he has. 

“Um, yeah, let me just pull up the map...” you open the door with one hand and drop into the seat as you hit start on the route. The map redirect and you place your phone in the mount. Two hours? “Oh, wow, it’s pretty far.” 

“Oh, I thought your dad mentioned it,” he pulls down the visor and opens the mirror to check his hair.  

You peek over at him as he smooths down the part. He’s older than you, the creases around his eyes suggest mid-forties? Maybe a few years off in either direction. Despite the gap, you’re both in a similar boat; starting out, or over. 

“It’s not a big deal,” you assure him and set your head straight. “How long’s the meeting?” 

“Ah, you know these suits, they’re all ‘time is money’,” he sits back as you buckle your seat belt. You wait as he stays undone, only pull down the strap as you idle the engine. 

“Sure, I guess... you’ll need a ride back?” 

“If you don’t mind. Uh, there’s a cafe not far, maybe you could just waste some time there? I really thought you knew,” he says. 

“Really, it’s fine,” you say as you check your mirror then crane to back out. 

You twist the wheel and head down the street. He rolls down the window and clucks, watching the houses pass. “Me and my wife had a place like this, till she started screw--” he coughs and rolls his shoulders, “sorry, never mind.” 

“Oh, um, I heard... uh, must be hard,” you say. 

“Well, I’m hurt but kinda hate her, you know? I’ve been working myself dry tryna get this thing off the ground and she’s sneaking around... I shouldn’t...” he puts his hands up. “I’m sure you got better things going on. How about you? Special guy waiting for you to get back home?” 

You make a face at the road, “nope.” 

“Really? Huh, woulda thought... well, you’re young and all that. You probably got dealer’s choice. No need to rush.” 

“Erm, sure,” you laugh dryly. “Guess it’s just not my biggest concern at the moment.” 

“Smart,” he snorts. “Really, don’t jump into it. Take your time.” He leans back and runs his hand over his mouth and the stubbly shadow of a goatee there. “Piece of advice, find someone mature. Someone ready to hunker down.” 

“Um, thanks, I’ll... keep that in mind.” 

You focus on driving. That’s easy. Pete’s friendly but he talks a lot and you’re not always sure how to respond. You don’t quite have enough experience to offer him any advice in return. 

~ 

As promised, there’s a cafe down the block from the skyrise where you drop Pete. He agrees to meet you there when he’s finished. You’re not entirely thrilled at having to wait on him but you told your dad you’d do it. You still owe him for helping you out with your rent. 

You snag a table and a cappucino and settle in. You sink into an ebook on your phone and block out the mill of customers in and out of the shop. You sip on your cappucino until its cold and leave the dregs to rest. 

You yawn and check the time after the third chapter. You stretch as the chairs put a stiffness in your bones. You glance over at the counter where the baristas wipe down the machines. Shoot. You’ve overstayed your welcome. 

You get up to order a muffin so they don’t kick you out. You eat it slowly, peeking back at the door, hoping that Pete will walk in at any second. He said it wouldn’t be long. It’s well into the afternoon. 

You read another chapter and throw out your trash. You should just go back to the car. You head down the street. It’s after five. 

You sit in the driver’s seat and flip through the apps in your phone. You play a swap game for a bit but grow restless. You check the clock again. Why didn’t you get his number? You could call him. 

“Hey,” the passenger door opens and you nearly shriek in fright. Pete bends to poke his head through, “I’m so sorry. Thing’s got... well, uh, I need another favour.” 

“Huh?” You gape at him. 

“Yeah, uh, the suits I was meeting with, they love me.” He drops into the seat and feels around in his suit jacket. “You know, we got to talking. They’re thinking ten mill at least.” 

You blink erratically, barely able to keep track. 

“They suggested dinner and uh, well, one lie led to another, things got a bit messy. I really didn’t want to keep you waiting,” he keeps his hand under his jacket. “Said my wife was waiting on me and uh, they said why don’t I bring her, so yeah.” 

He pulls out a ring. You squint and purse your lips. You’re lost. 

“Just for tonight, alright.” 

“Where--” 

“It’s the one I bought the ex. I know it’s a bit strange but I need this deal. I don’t wanna be a bum on your parents’ couch forever. What about it, please? It’ll be fun and you’ll get a free meal out of it.” 

“Well, uh...” you check the clock. It’s past six and there’s a long way home. Still, his pleading plucks at your heart. You’re not very good at saying no. 

“Alright, I... I’ll do my best.” 

“It’ll be fine. Just smile,” he grabs your hand and shoves the ring on your finger. “Come on.” 

You’re shell shocked. You look down at the gleaming stone then shake your head. You guess this is happening. 

You get out and lock the car. You shove your keys and phone in your purse. He meets you on the pavement and ushers you down the next street. He swoops his arm around you, his hand curling around your hip. You twitch but don’t push him away. It’s just an act. 

He approaches a black facade with pink neon trim. There’s no marquee. It must be pretty upscale, you’ve never been anywhere like that. 

A bouncer waves him in as if he knows them. You don’t think much of it. As you enter, you pass through a black curtain and emerge into a room lit with shades of red, purple, and pink, with spotlights over stages. 

Pete lifts a hand to wave and a table of suited men return the gesture. You gape at the woman dancing on the pole mounted through the table. Oh my god. 

You don’t know what to do. You want to run. You want to elbow him and ask what the fuck. But you can’t. You’re too overwhelmed by the naked flesh and music. 

“Petey boy,” a man with a mustache greets him with a firm handshake, “there she is, the missus.” He stands and greets you with a kiss on the cheek. “You weren’t lying, she is young.” 

“Got a good one, huh?” Another man repeats the first’s overly friendly welcome and you blink dumbly. “Don’t think my wife would step in a place like this.” 

Pete chortles, “we consider it foreplay,” he pulls out a chair and sits. It’s only then that you notice there aren’t any more. “Ain’t that right, honey?” He puts you in his lap and you drop down with a flash of horror in his direction. He leans in and brushes his nose to your cheek and whispers in your ear, “behave or daddy will get a nice picture of you front and centre.” 

Your gaze flicks behind him to the twerking cheeks on the stage and you shudder. You turn back to the other men and try to smile. Pete’s hand rests on your lower back. “She gets a bit shy when she’s horny,” he scoffs and taps the top of your ass. “Now, where were we?” 

You look at the strange men at the table. The pudgier one offers a folded bill to the dancer and she takes it between her teeth. The one with the mustache leers at you as he bites his thumb, and the other tanks a long sip from his glass. 

You’re trapped in disbelief, staring, stuttering. What else can you do but try not to combust? Especially as Pete’s hand crawls up your thigh. 

“Forgive me if I get lost,” he purrs and bites your shoulder. 

“Who could blame you?” The mustachioed leerer growls. “I mean, who cares about numbers? Gonna be a wild night, isn’t it, Pete?” 

[winchesterwild78]

Daddy’s Girl pt 2

Master List

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader (wife), Dean and Reader’s daughter, other characters from Supernatural

Warnings: a little angst, lots of fluff

A/N: Another collab story with @cheekygirl2309. This chapter starts out a little angsty and has some surprises along the way. 

This is a work of fiction and does not follow the Supernatural storyline. I do not own the rights to the characters used.

All work is my own and @cheekygirl2309, don’t take it or use it as your own. Reblogs and likes are appreciated. 

Minors DNI 18+

The next few days I still felt Dean’s uneasiness from his dream. He of course tried to hide it, but knowing him for as long as I have I know when he’s hiding something. 

It was early in the morning when I woke up to an empty bed. Delilah was still sleeping. I stretched and grabbed my robe. 

I found Dean in the kitchen. He looked exhausted and was nursing a cup of coffee. His green eyes flicked up to mine and he smiled softly. 

“Hey baby. Want some coffee?” His voice was gruff and he sounded tired.

I nodded and grabbed a cup. As I walked past him I ran my hand over his shoulders. 

“Dean, are you okay? You looked exhausted.” “Yeah, I haven’t been sleeping well.” 

“Dean, have you been sleeping at all? I go to bed alone, and when I wake up you’re already gone. Honey, please talk to me.” I placed my hands on his. 

“I just can’t shake the dream from the other day. Everything I’ve ever loved, everyone I’ve loved ends up leaving or dying. I just wouldn’t survive if something happened to you or Delilah.” 

“Oh Dean, we aren’t going anywhere. We have Jack and Cas on our side. Plus you’ve trained me well enough to take care of myself and her. Baby, you have got to get some sleep. You’re no good to us if you’re exhausted. Plus you get a little cranky.” 

A smile formed on his face. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked up at me. “You’re right. I’m going to go lay back down. Want to join me?” He wiggled his eyebrows. 

“You and I both know if I go in there with you then neither of us are getting any sleep. Now you go in there and get some sleep. I’ll keep your little princess entertained while you sleep.” I kissed his lips and ushered him to bed. 

About an hour later Delilah was awake and kept trying to sneak off to see Dean. “Delilah Rose, daddy is very tired. He needs sleep and we have to leave him alone.” 

She stuck out her lip and pouted, “But I want to play with daddy. I miss him.” I chuckled, “Baby he won’t be asleep forever. He will wake up and the two of you can play then.”

She nodded and sat on the floor in the library. I walked in the kitchen to grab her something to drink and when I walked back to the library she was gone. 

I sighed, I knew where she was. I caught her before she got the door open. I whispered, “Delilah! I told you to leave daddy alone.” “But I miss my daddy so much. I rolled my eyes, these two are insufferable. 

“Delilah, what do you say we go to the park then go get stuff to make daddy an apple pie?” Her big green eyes sparkled and she nodded. 

“Okay, go grab your shoes and coat.” She ran to her room and grabbed her shoes and coat, returning to me. 

I helped her put them on. And I grabbed my coat. I left Dean a note on the kitchen counter and we left. 

We went to the park and played for a little bit. I could tell Delilah was still a little sad. Her and Dean loved coming to the park. She played for a little while longer and I told her we needed to get to the store and then back home. 

I reached for my phone and realized I didn’t have it. I sighed. It’s okay. I left him a note. He will be fine. He’ll give me crap about forgetting my phone, but he’s used to it.

Delilah and I went to the store and got the things we needed for the pie and headed towards the bunker. 

When we got home Delilah bounded down the stairs. I found Dean having a panic attack in the library. When he saw us he jumped up and scooped up Delilah and grabbed me in his arms.

“Oh my god I was so worried about you two. You weren’t here when I got up, I couldn’t find you and you didn’t answer your phone. Why didn’t you answer your phone?!” 

I saw the panic and tears in his eyes and it broke my heart. “Dean, honey. I left a note and I forgot my phone. I’m so sorry baby.” I pulled Delilah out of his arms, “Baby, go play in your room. Okay? I promise, Daddy is okay. He was just scared.” 

Dean moved past me and went into the Dean cave and sat on the couch. He started sobbing. It broke my heart to see him. I placed my hand on his bicep, “Dean, baby. It’s okay, we’re okay. I took her to the park and then to the store.” “I’m sorry, Y/N. That dream just rocked me to my core. I don’t know what I’d do if anything ever happened to you or her. You two are my life.” 

I touched his face and he leaned into my palm. “Dean, I know what we need to do to help you move past this.” I closed my eyes and prayed. A few minutes later Jack appeared. 

I stood and hugged him, “Hey Jack.” “Hello.” He smiled, then he saw Dean and his face fell.

“Dean is having a hard time right now. I figured he needed to hear from you. He had a dream that scared him the other day and he can’t shake it. He dreamed Delilah and I vanished and he couldn’t find us.”

“I see.” Jack said and looked over at Dean again. “How can I help?” “Can you reassure him we are going to be okay?” He smiled and walked over to Dean. “Y/N and Delilah are okay. They are not going anywhere. Well, Delilah will when she goes to college and gets married. She’s going to have two children and live a very long life. Y/N is going to have another baby in about a year and she is going to live a long life too. No demons, vampires or anything will hurt them. You have trained her well.” 

Dean’s eyes looked at Jack and then over at me. “Wait, what? I’m going to have another baby?” “Oh yes, a little boy. He will be like Dean.” I chuckled. “Well then I’m a very lucky girl.” 

I heard Dean let out a shaky breath. He hugged Jack and thanked him. Then he walked over to me and pulled me close, “I’m so sorry baby. I didn’t mean to worry you or Delilah.” “Dean, it’s okay. We know how much you love us, and you being scared and worried just proves it. Now where the heck did the note go that I left you?” 

“Where did you leave it?” “On the counter in the kitchen.” The two of us walked in the kitchen, I carried the groceries I left in the war room. I didn’t see the note. Dean looked around and found it on the floor almost under the stove. “It must have blown off the counter.” I nodded, “I’m sorry. I promise not to forget my cell anymore. I guess this was just a perfect storm.” He nodded and pulled me in his arms.

“So, another baby, a boy?” I smiled, “I guess so. I wonder when he will be here. Jack said within the next year, so I guess we haven’t made him yet.” 

Dean laughed, “Guess we need to get on that.” I playfully rolled my eyes. He kissed my lips softly and behind me I heard the sound of little feet. Dean smirked against my lips and pulled away.

We turned and saw Delilah peeking around the doorway. Dean bent down and held out his arms, “Come here my little pumpkin pie. I’m okay. I promise.” Delilah bounded into the kitchen and threw herself into his arms. 

She had her favorite stuffy, a squirrel holding a baby squirrel and handed it to Dean. “To help you feel better daddy.” He took it with tears pricking his eyes. “Thank you baby girl, but your hugs always make me feel better.” 

Dean wrapped her in his arms and held her tightly. 

I walked up to them and hugged them both. “Okay you two, out of my kitchen. I have something to do here and you both will be in the way.” I chuckled. Dean and Delilah feigned hurt. “Ouch babe, I guess the two of us will leave you then.” They laughed as they left the room.

The next few days things settled down and Dean was sleeping better. He smiled more and couldn’t stop thinking or talking about us having another baby. “Maybe we should ask Jack when the baby is born.” Dean said early in the morning. I shook my head, “Dean, no. We will find out just like everyone else. Everyone who doesn’t have a direct line to Heaven.”

He sighed, “Oh come on. Aren’t you just the least bit curious?” I nodded, “Yes, but you’re driving me crazy with it. If you want to know, then you call Jack and ask him. I want it to be a surprise.” I kissed his lips and started to climb out of bed. Dean pulled me back down into his arms. 

His lips on my neck as he held me flush to his chest. My back rested against him and his arms snaked around my body.

“Dean, we have to get up. You promised Delilah and daddy daughter day and you know she’s going to be up soon. What if she walks in here?”

Dean smirked and jumped out of bed, locking the door. A mischievous grin on his face, “There, problem solved.”

Dean climbed back in the bed and pulled my chest to his. “Now, where were we?” He started kissing my lips and down my neck. His hands trailed up my body and I arched my back, moaning. 

About half an hour later Dean and I were tangled in the sheets, trying to steady our breathing. “Mmm, that was amazing.” I said laying against him with my head and hand on his chest. 

“Aren’t you glad I locked the door.” He chuckled. “Yeah, I am. Now let’s get up so you can take our baby for her daddy daughter day.” 

“Yeah, I have to show her what to expect from a man so she never settles for less.” I smirked, “Well, you’re doing an amazing job of that.” I kissed his lips and got out of bed, getting dressed I tossed Dean his clothes. 

“Take a shower, I’ll get her up and ready.” He nodded and smiled, “Hey, Y/N?” I turned to face him, “Yes, Dean?” “I love you, Y/N.” I smiled, “I love you too, Dean. So much.” 

An hour later Dean and Delilah were loading up in the Impala. He hooked her in her carseat and her legs swung back and forth as her giggles filled the backseat. 

I kissed her head and kissed Dean goodbye. “You two have fun. Try not to eat too much junk and spoil your supper.” I winked at him. “We will try. I love you, Y/N.” “I love you too, Dean. Be careful and I’ll see you two later.” 

The Impala roared to life and I watched as the two of them drove away. I let out a breath and walked back into the bunker. 

I went to the Dean cave and started to clean. I made my way into Delilah’s room and then mine and Dean’s. I decided to strip the beds and do some laundry. 

I cleaned the bunker and pulled out a book to read. My phone rang as I sat down and saw it was Dean. I chuckled.

“Hello?” 

“Hey, sweetheart. We have a question for you.” 

“Okay, what is it?” 

“White or brown?”

I was confused. “What are you talking about? I need more context, Dean.” 

He chuckled, “Just answer the question, white or brown?”

“Um, white?” “Okay, thanks sweetheart. We love you. Remember that.” 

“Uhoh, what are you two up to?” 

I heard Dean and Delilah giggle, “Nothing. We will be home soon.” 

“Now I really am worried. I’ll see you two soon. Love you two.” 

“Love you too. Bye.”

Dean hung up and my curiosity piqued. What trouble could those two be up to now. I loved them going on daddy daughter dates, but sometimes they would get into mischief.

About thirty minutes later I heard the Impala pull into the garage. Dean and Delilah’s laughter filled the air. 

I sat my book down and waited for them. Dean was carrying Delilah and they walked into the library. 

“Hi Mommy. We’re back.” 

“Hi baby. I see that. Did you and daddy have fun?” 

Her green eyes twinkled, “The best. Daddy took me shopping and I got a new dress, then he took me to get ice cream and then we got you a surprise.” 

I smiled. “Well I can’t wait to see your dress. I bet it’s beautiful.” 

She smiled big, “Yes it is. It’s blue with stars on it. Daddy said I’m his angel so I needed a star dress.” 

I looked over at Dean and he was grinning. She definitely has him wrapped around her finger. 

“Mommy, are you ready for your surprise? We’re gonna give it to her now, right Daddy?” Dean nodded. 

“Wait here mommy. Daddy and I will be right back.” 

I smiled and my heart beat wildly. What were these two up to. Before Dean left the room to chase after her he looked at me and smiled, “Remember we love you and this is something we need.” 

“Oh lord. I can’t imagine what it is.” He chuckled. “I’ll be back.” He kissed me and went back towards the garage. 

I could hear Delilah’s giggles fill the air. I knew I was in trouble. 

“Mommy, close your eyes please.” 

“Okay baby. They are closed.” 

I could hear her and Dean walk back into the room. Then I felt a heavy box on my lap. 

“Okay open your eyes sweetheart.” 

I opened them to find a big brown box on my lap. “Open the box mommy.” 

Delilah squealed in delight. 

I carefully lifted the lid. A little apprehensive of what was in the box. I gasped. I looked up at Dean and then at Delilah. 

“Oh my goodness, are you serious?!” Dean grinned, “Yeah. We saw it and immediately thought about you.” 

“Oh my gosh Dean. This is perfect.”

In the box looking up at me was a beautiful white terrier mix puppy with big blue eyes. I had one as a child and she got hit by a car. I had mentioned to Dean years ago how I always wanted one especially for Delilah. 

I pulled the puppy out of the box and held her tight. “She’s beautiful, Dean and Delilah. Thank you.” 

She was perfect and so sweet. Giving the best kisses and falling asleep on my lap. I lazily rubbed her head as I talked to Dean about a name. 

“She needs a name. Something fitting.” Dean nodded. I looked at him and smirked, “I know. How about, baby?” 

Dean looked at me and shook his head, “Nope. There’s only room for one baby in the family and she’s in the garage.” Delilah looked at Dean, “No daddy, it’s me.” 

I laughed,”She’s got you there Dean.” He playfully rolled his eyes. “You’re my little pumpkin pie.” 

“But I’m also your baby.” He nodded and pulled her in his lap, “You’ll always be my baby girl.” 

She put her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek, “And you’ll always be my daddy.” 

Dean’s smile grew. 

“Okay guys, seriously we have to give this little girl a name.” I said holding the puppy. 

Dean smirked, “What about, dog?” 

I raised an eyebrow, “Uh no. Good thing we have to agree on our children’s names. Delilah might have ended up being named “girl”.” I laughed. 

“Hey, I think I picked a beautiful name for our girl.” “Yes you did, Dean.”

“Well you said no to “baby” what about "Angel "?" 

Dean looked at me and shook his head. 

Delilah looked up from her coloring book, “Bubbles”. 

Dean chuckled, “What? You can’t name a dog “Bubbles”.” 

I looked at him and then at her. “It’s a great name, baby girl.” 

“But daddy doesn’t like it.” She hung her head. 

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “No baby, mommy is right. It’s a great name.” 

“You mean it daddy?” Her green eyes searching his. “Yes, I love it.” 

“Yay! Can we call her Bubbles?” 

I smiled and nodded. Dean just shook his head and sighed. 

Delilah left to go take her coloring book and crayons in her room and I stood up with Bubbles and hugged Dean. 

“See, I told you. She had you wrapped around your finger.” 

“Don’t I know it. Now I have a dog named Bubbles. What kind of badass Hunter has a dog named Bubbles?!” 

I laughed, “One who would do anything to make his little girl happy.” 

I kissed his lips softly and walked towards the kitchen. 

“We need to get some things for the dog. Like food, a bed, food and water bowl, and some toys.” I looked at Dean as I sat Bubbles down. 

“Already taken care of. It’s in the car. I’ll go grab it.” I nodded. 

As Dean made his way to the car he heard the tapping of paws behind him. Bubbles was following him. 

“Bubbles, Jeez I can’t believe that’s your name. You have to go back inside. Don’t follow me.” 

The dog turned her head like she was listening to him and sat down. 

“Good, now stay.” Bubbles stood up and wagged her tail and as Dean walked she followed. Dean stopped and looked. Bubbles wagged her tail. 

Dean shook his head. He walked to the car and got out the stuff he bought at the pet store. Bubbles followed behind. 

He returned to the kitchen with his arms full. I chuckled when I saw Bubbles following closely behind him. “Looks like you’ve got a shadow.” 

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah. I guess I just attract all the ladies.” He laughed. 

I washed the bowls and filled them with food and water. Dean helped me figure out where to put her things, especially her food so she didn’t get in it. 

I turned around to show her where her food was and she was gone. 

I looked at Dean and we went looking for her. “Hey Delilah, have you seen Bubbles?” I asked as I approached her door. She shook her head no. 

I continued looking when I heard Dean.

“Bubbles! No!” I ran to our room and saw Dean standing with one of his favorite flannels in his hand. It looked ripped. I bit my lip to stifle the giggle. 

“She ate my shirt! My favorite shirt.” The giggle slipped out.

“Oh so this is funny?” I nodded, “Yeah a little. We just have to train her. She’s a baby, Dean.” “Well first thing tomorrow she’s going to training.” 

I laughed, “Dean, you have to sign her up for the classes.” 

“Well her and I will go and beg them to take her. I can’t have her eating all my clothes.” “Well, at least it wasn’t the leather in the car, or your favorite boots.” 

His head spun and he looked at me and gasped, “Bite your tongue.” He looked at Bubbles who was wagging her tail at him with her tongue out, “And you better not get any ideas.” She barked and wagged her tail at him.

“Aww look at that, another girl already wrapped around your finger.” He scoffed.

Over the next few weeks we all fell into a comfortable rhythm with Bubbles and her training was going good. She had stopped chewing on things other than her toys and she was always by Dean’s side. 

“Hey Y/N, have you seen my burgundy shirt? I can’t find it anywhere.” I heard Dean call from the bedroom. 

“The last I saw it was in the laundry pile when I washed clothes the other day. Check your closet.” 

“I did, it’s not in there.” I walked towards the laundry room, maybe it was hanging in there. I looked and couldn’t find it. 

“Sorry babe, I can’t find it. I don’t know where it is.” 

“This is weird. I’m missing some shirts, some socks and I can’t find my old leather jacket.” “That is weird. I’ll see if I can help you find them.” 

We searched everywhere. Checking the garage, the laundry room, the bathrooms, our room, then I walked into Delilah’s room. 

I noticed something sticking out from under her pillow. I lifted her pillow and found one of Dean’s missing t-shirts. I chuckled, “Hey Dean, can you come here please.” 

Dean walked to the door, “What’s up?” “Look.” I showed him his shirt and he smiled. He shrugged, “What can I say the girl loves me.” “Yes she does.”

We searched her room for the other things that were missing but couldn’t find them. 

“I was sure we would find the rest of the stuff in her room. Let’s check the Dean cave. Maybe you took your jacket off in there.” 

We went to the room and started searching, not finding anything. I looked over and noticed Bubbles’ bed was missing. “Dean, where is Bubbles’ bed?” “It was right there.” He pointed to the now empty spot.

“Okay, this is weird. You’re missing things and now her bed is gone.” 

I walked around to the side of the couch that was close to the wall. I looked down and chuckled. 

“Dean, come here.” He walked over and looked down. There between the couch and the wall was Bubbles. Curled in a ball, laying on her bed and a pile of Dean’s shirts, socks and his jacket.

He sighed, “So she’s not chewing on my stuff, she’s taking it now.” “It’s because it has your scent, Dean. You’re her person.” 

“Well can’t I be her person without her taking my stuff?” He chuckled. When he laughed Bubbles stretched and looked up and saw him. She wagged her tail and leaped up. 

He scooped her up and she started licking his face. I laughed “You know it’s only fair Bubbles took your shirts. Delilah and I both have your shirts and you’re our person, so she needs something too.” 

“At this rate I won’t have any clothes left.” I laughed. I bent down and started to gather his stuff out of her bed. She looked at me and whimpered. 

Dean looked at me and at Bubbles, “Leave that one.” He nodded towards an old green shirt he wears when he works on Baby. I smiled and nodded. I put it back in her bed and she snuggled to Dean. 

I placed a kiss on his lips and pet Bubbles. 

A few hours later Dean, Delilah, Bubbles and I were snuggled on the couch watching Frozen, again. I was sitting on Dean’s right side, Delilah was snuggled to this left and Bubbles was asleep in his lap. 

I looked over in the middle of the movie and saw the three of them fast asleep. I grabbed a blanket and draped it over them. I pulled one over me and snuggled back to Dean. Looking over at my family I thought how incredibly blessed I was to have Dean and Delilah. I couldn’t wait to add our baby boy to our family. He will fit in perfectly and will complete our little family. 

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[hypnzo]

Hello! First of all, i hope you are having or had a good day <3

I really like your writing! So I was wondering if I can do a request for a fic with the reader being the daughter of Hypnos and comforting/helping Percy with his nightmares?

It could be of the two of them in an established relationship or that, to comfort him, she confesses her feelings/Percy admitting his feelings for her since the nightmares make him afraid of losing her?

If you can't or don't feel comfortable that's fine, tysm 💞

Embodiment of Comfort

Percy Jackson x Hypnos cabin!Reader (Gender-Neutral)

Warning !! English is not my first language, there might be so mischaracterizations.

Note: I'm not exactly so proud of this work, I was really tired when making this, so I apologize for its bad writing...

You've been friends with Percy for quite a while now. Your friendship started around his first week in camp, but you didn't expect anything from it.

That was until you realized how you've been silently gushing over him, the son of Poseidon—Percy Jackson—a name that everyone around the camp knew and admired.

You couldn't blame them though—black hair, tanned skin, toned body, great personality, kind of a dork, what's there to not admire?

However, being a child of Hypnos meant nothing to you. It felt really dull... Mostly because everyone just seems to know you as someone that sleeps all day and has nothing to contribute unless "sleep" was the talk.

If you were being honest, the thought alone made you feel even more disappointed knowing your childhood crush was simply just out of your league.

“...Gods, I hate that guy.” you murmured against your pillow. To be real, you didn't really hate Percy—maybe you did, but only since he's been an annoying buzz in your head all day long.

Maybe a part of it was your fault, but you'd defend yourself and say that at least more than half of it was his fault.

“He doesn't even have to be all that charming... Those black hair, sea-green eyes...” you paused, hugging your pillow, looking afar bit too starstruck before you began once more, “especially those sea-green eyes.”

As you were zoning out on your bed, you heard a voice cut through your thoughts—a voice that was, unfortunately, familiar. “Sleepy?”

Shit.

You blinked, averting your gaze towards him while your mind panicked and you swore you've said every cuss words known to man.

It wasn't intentional—genuinely, you felt like an idiot saying those words out loud—you felt even more stupid, knowing that you've completely forgotten that Percy was here all along.

“Percy, uh...” you started, but now you wished you could go back in time for a few seconds so you were able to just shut yourself up.

He looked sleepy, his voice sounded groggy as well, however his grin seems to just strengthen against the pillow he was snuggling with.

“So, I take it you have a crush on someone?”

“No!”

“Right, right.” he says, adjusting his position to lay on his back like a starfish, staring at the ceiling of the bunk bed. “You hate the guy. Got it.”

“Shut up.”

“Will do.” he says, motioning a ziplock on his mouth, but the cheeky, almost smug-like grin that was plastered on his face never faltered on his lips one bit.

After a few moments of silence, he motions to be unlocking the imaginary ziplock on his mouth, his hands finding his own hair while his eyes remain shut.

“What now?”

“Soo... thank you.”

“Huh?”

“For your service.” he joked once more, only to receive an unimpressed glance from you which made him shut up. At least for a moment...

“No seriously,” he says, propping himself up on one elbow as he glanced up at you, “thanks...”

“If I'm going to be real honest with you, sleep has never come easy for me. Especially during my first week in camp.”

You blinked, remaining the silence you've stilled, letting him pour out his words while his gaze would often shift from one furniture to another.

“I just want to thank you for just.. being there,” he sighed, “If I'm being real with you, sleepy,” he murmured before he continued, “nightmares have been gnawing at me left and right.”

“And really, your comfort—no, your presence alone has helped me. I don't know if you even realize it, but you feel like comfort itself, as though the very essence of it was mused after you.”

“What are you saying?” you felt your breath hitch at his words.

He paused, looking for any uncertainty in your eyes. Despite his shaky nerves, he looked into your eyes, letting out a breath that he didn't even realize he was holding.

“...I like you.”

...

“Was that too forward?” he chuckled lightly though his laugh felt breathless as if he was just as nervous as you were about the whole situation.

“Sleepy?”

“Sorry, sorry, uh,” you snapped out of your focus, however your words couldn't get itself out of your throat like it was stuck there.

Despite his panicking nerves, he patted you on the back as if to help and ground you on what was happening. “Relax, it's just me.” he chuckled lightly.

“Do you really mean that?”

“That I like you? Of course I do. Why wouldn't I mean it?”

You didn't know how to begin your words, the only sensation you could feel was the way your palms start to form its cold sweat. “I like you too, Percy. Might I now add that I have been crushing on you for quite some time now as well?” you uttered out sheepishly.

“Really?”

“Mhm,” you smiled, “I mean it—like for real. You're like one of the coolest person I've ever met and you don't even have to try.” you say, feeling his hand tangle in yours.

“I try really hard, actually.” he chuckled lightly, brushing his hands against your hair, tucking it in behind your ear before he pressed a quick, kiss on your cheek.

Hesitantly, you held his face in your palm, feeling him lean onto your touch as he tops his hand over yours while his thumb skimmed through your knuckle.

“Thank you, sleepy.”

“You don't have to thank me for anything.” you leaned in with a smile to draw a peck on his nose.

Have a request? Feel free to send one in!

[hazymoonlinh]

🤔 phainon x astral express member fem reader

Like he is fall in love with her in first sight when he first meeting with the other astral express member. In that scene when he suddenly appear and then he cut dan heng's weapon into two, thats where they first meet.

👀 Imagine how he try to impress fem reader by showing of his skill and flirt with her

Ahaha I have a lot of draft I write for him and my OC just like this. So this kinda base on those draft.

Really really love this! I hope you like it!

Our first meeting.

(Fluff, Phainon is head over heels with reader.)

Fem!reader.

“You’ve got something interesting,” Phainon drawled, his icy blue eyes scanning the group.

The clash of steel rang out sharply, echoing through the quiet ground of the abyss of fate. Phainon, with his usual flamboyant flair, emerged like a thunderbolt, took the trailblazer’s bat as he sliced Dan Heng’s spear clean in two. He landed with a smirk that could rival the sun, looking every bit the arrogant warrior he was known to be.

But then he saw her.

Among the stalwart crew of the Astral Express, she stood out—not because of her combat stance or any defiant glare, but simply because she existed. Her eyes, her presence, the way she carried herself—it hit him like a strike to the chest. For the first time in what felt like centuries, Phainon faltered.

“Oh,” he said under his breath, his smirk slipping for the briefest of moments.

“Who are you?” she demanded, stepping forward, her gaze sharp.

Phainon recovered quickly, his trademark grin returning. “Who am I? Why, I’m the one who’s just stolen your heart, darling.”

The group collectively groaned, except for her. She blinked, clearly taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“Forgive me,” Phainon said, his tone deliberately melodramatic as he placed a hand over his chest. “I wasn’t expecting to meet someone so radiant today. I’m Phainon, by the way. Remember the name—I’ll make sure it’s worth your while.”

“Is he serious?” The Trailblazer whispered to Dan Heng, who was still glaring at his broken weapon.

“Unfortunately,” Dan Heng muttered.

From that moment on, Phainon became a constant presence, much to the frustration of the rest of the two Astral Express crew. Wherever she went, he wasn’t far behind, finding every excuse to be close to her.

“Need help?” he asked one day, leaning casually against a wall as she searched through the streets of the Okhema for treasures.

“I’m fine,” she said without looking at him, crouched over a map.

“Come on,” he said, stepping closer. “A treasure hunt’s no fun without a partner. Besides,” he added, flashing a dazzling smile, “I’m quite good at finding hidden things. Like your heart, for example.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I try,” he said with a wink, pulling out his weapon and twirling it effortlessly. “But in all seriousness, two sets of eyes are better than one. I’ll even let you keep all the treasure we find—consider it my gift to you.”

“Fine,” she relented, standing up and brushing off her hands. “But no more flirting.”

“Deal,” Phainon said, though his grin made it clear he had no intention of keeping that promise.

It didn’t take long for his antics to become a regular occurrence. Whether it was showing off his combat skills by slicing through imaginary enemies with theatrical flourishes or insisting on calling her nicknames like “starlight” and “darling,” Phainon seemed determined to leave an impression.

“Why do you keep doing this?” she asked one day as they walked through the streets, the sun casting a warm glow over the city.

“Doing what?” he asked innocently, though his eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Following me. Flirting with me. Trying so hard to impress me.”

He stopped walking, his expression softening. “Because I’ve never met anyone like you before,” he said, his voice sincere. “And I don’t want to miss my chance.”

For a moment, the playful mask slipped, revealing a glimpse of the man behind it. And though she wasn’t quite ready to admit it, something about him was beginning to grow on her.

___

Few days later.

By now, Phainon had become a fixture in her daily life. His teasing had shifted into something more gentle, his playful remarks often followed by acts of genuine kindness. She’d catch him looking at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention, his gaze softening in a way that felt different than before.

One evening, after a particularly difficult mission, Phainon appeared outside her quarters, holding something behind his back.

“Phainon, what now?” she asked, her tone flat but not unkind.

He grinned, stepping closer. “I’ve got a surprise for you, darling. Close your eyes.”

She raised an eyebrow, wary but intrigued. “A surprise? I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“Just trust me,” he said, his voice dropping lower, playful but gentle.

Reluctantly, she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, he was holding out a small, delicate flower—an exotic bloom with silver petals that shimmered faintly under the light.

“It’s a flower from a faraway land,” he said. “One that only blooms for those who capture my heart. Consider it a token of my affection.”

She stared at the flower for a long moment, the sincerity in his voice settling over her like a gentle warmth. “Phainon…”

“Don’t say a word,” he murmured, leaning a little closer. “I know I’m not easy to deal with. But I’m persistent. And for some reason, I can’t seem to stay away from you.”

She smiled softly, unable to hold it back. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

He chuckled, handing her the flower. “Impossible… or irresistible? I’ll let you decide, starlight.”

In the days that followed, Phainon continued to find ways to be near her, whether it was sharing his battle strategies, teasing her during downtime, or offering to help with anything she needed—just so he could be close. There was no escaping him, but somewhere along the way, it began to feel less like an annoyance and more like a comforting constant.

Phainon, with all his pride, flirtation, and ever-present smirk, had carved a place in her life—and maybe, just maybe, she was starting to see him in a different light.

[ourfinalisation]

⟶ let you break my heart again

cw:: i have never written angst like this before. gn!reader, reader is MEAN in this one, reader implied to be an english speaker, reader gets drunk? satoru + reader met at jujutsu high

Satoru Gojo is not a coffee drinker.

It’s bitter, it's either scalding hot or biting cold, and in your words, “it tastes like dirt.”

He remembers the way he laughed in agreement last year when you muttered that under your breath, consequence of sneaking a sip of Nanami’s coffee. He remembers looking at you, his cheeks flushed and his words all airy. And he can't scrub from his mind the way you didn't spare him a glance.

Satoru Gojo hates coffee. But after a long night of entertaining a drunken you, he needs something to propel him through the day. And cocaine is illegal.

His eyes follow you around the staff room. Rubbing your temples and groaning, snapping at anyone who dares to speak.

“Someone’s hungover,” he smirks.

“Shut up,” you hiss. “Your voice is so grating.”

He shuts up, and pretends you didn't say that. He shuts up and pretends you don't always say that. He shuts up and pretends he doesn't spend night after night picking you up from a bar, completely wasted, or dropping you off to a date, or picking you up from some fling’s apartment at 7am.

On days when the staff room is silent, he allows himself a fleeting moment to close his eyes and picture you. He dreams of the thirteen-year long softness with which he can't help but afford you, and he lets himself fantasise that once, just once, you'll turn around and return his lovesick smile.

But on days like this, he presses his lips together in a fine line and ignores the sympathetic glance Shoko spares him.

He wonders what it is about him that is so unappealing. Nursing a whiskey at some dive bar, he slurs out his troubles to a sympathetic barkeep.

“Girls like me. I get asked out all the time. But she doesn't want me, and I don’t know why!” He wants to scream, or cry, or laugh, but he's not sure which and he slumps over the bar and barely catches his glass before it goes tumbling over. “I don't want the other fish in the fucking sea. I want her. She’s the prettiest fish.”

No one comes to pick him up.

Some days you're sweet on him. You throw him a bone. You send him songs in English that he doesn't understand, but he listens to the melody and the gibberish lyrics and he finds pieces of you in the songs.

[satoru gojo]: good song

[satoru gojo]: i like your taste in music ;)

Read, 11:06PM.

On other days you pick him up as the unforgiving sun is setting. You drive, asking him about his day, letting him ramble about his students, or vent about the higher ups, or tell you about this super funny thing Nanami did as though you weren't there.

He turns his head away from you as he finishes speaking, and he's glad he wears a blindfold as it catches his tears.

He downs the rest of his coffee, shuffling over on the couch to give you room to sit next to him.

“Thanks for picking me up last night,” you mumble, picking at your nails. You refuse to make eye contact, which is just as well because he'd hate for you to see the wide-eyed stare he's subjecting you to.

“... No problem.”

[keehendrixx]

Forbidden Syllabus

College Professor!Terry x Black Woman!OC

Warnings: None

Cree almost sprinted to class, she couldn’t believe she was late for the first day of school. She almost broke her heels trying to walk halfway across campus. Finally making it to the lecture hall, she was faced with another problem, she couldn’t find the right classroom.

“Fuck!” She muttered. She checked her schedule and found it. After mentally preparing herself for the embarrassment she’d probably receive, she opened the door to find a wave of students looking at her & a professor who was in the middle of his lecture.

Cree walked inside and looked around.

“Ms. Miller, I suppose? It’s nice that you could join us.” The professor said with a hint of sarcasm. “Now, have a seat.”

“I’m sorry for my tardiness, Professor.” Cree said as she walked to the back of the classroom, taking a seat at an empty desk.

“Apology accepted, but I don’t take well to my students being late or missing out on an important lesson.”

With that he turned around to the board, continuing to write on it.

Even though she was sitting at the back of the class, Cree couldn’t help but to notice the way he moved with great ease and confidence.

Dazed, she hadn’t realized that he had been calling her name. Cree snapped out of her little trance, focusing her attention on him.

“Cree, that’s your name right?”

“Yes, sir.” Cree swallowed the lump in her throat.

“I’d suggest that you start paying attention Ms. Miller. First, you were late. Now, you’re not focusing on me. That’s something I don’t tolerate.” He said walking in her direction.

Oh, he was a commanding dom indeed.

He stood at the foot of her desk, leaning down. “How do you think you can pass this semester if you can’t even pay attention to anything I’m saying?”

“I’m-”

“If you’re apologizing, I heard that already. From way too many students.”

He effortlessly walked back to the front and Cree slumped down in the desk.

She could feel the dominance radiating from him. This was indeed going to be a long semester for her. Especially with this fine specimen of a man as her professor.

Class came to an end and Cree grabbed her things, about to head out when he called out for her. “Ms. Miller, a word please?”

She stopped in her tracks and turned around. “Yes, sir?”

“I care deeply about my students, even more about the ones I can see a great future in. It’s the first day and I think you’ve already gotten off to a bad start.”

“I understand. I just woke up a little late, that’s all. It won’t happen again. I’ll be here bright and bushy-tailed from now on.”

Professor Richmond chuckled. “That’s the spirit!”

“How about we overlook this one mistake? A fresh start?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I can see great potential in you Cree, I see you being a great doctor, lawyer, or whatever you desire to be. But as I said before, I won’t tolerate tardiness or anything else in that nature.”

Cree looked down at the floor. His hand slipped under her chin as he lifted her head up.

“My attention is up here, not on the floor.”

OH!

“My apologies Professor Richmond.”

“Terry. I think we’re passed the formalities now.”

If Cree said her stomach wasn’t doing cartwheels by now, she’d be lying because it definitely was.

“Starting tomorrow, you’ll sit in the front of the class. I want to be able to engage with you. Get your undivided attention and hear your thoughts on the subject matters.”

“Yes, sir. I mean Terry.”

Terry’s eyes scanned her down like a predator, taking in every single detail of her outfit. The way she wore it like she owned a room made him feel some type of way. He instantly let out a low hum to himself.

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow morning Cree, enjoy the rest of your day.”

“You too, professor.”

Cree started to walk towards the door but his voice caught her attention as she placed her hand on the doorknob.

“Wear something comfortable tomorrow, I’m starting to think you were really late trying to find something pretty to wear today.”

She couldn’t do anything but laugh. “I wanted to make a good impression, I think my outfit is decent enough.”

“Oh sweetheart, you’ve made quite the impression already on me.” His voice got a little deeper than his usual deep baritone.

@kimuzostar @nayaesworld @pocketsizedpanther @theereina @episodes-ff @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @dxddykenn

[cripplecharacters]

Hello!

I'm writing a story where a group of people are forced to work together to solve a mystery, and early on in the story when two of the characters are getting to know each other better, they go clothes shopping.

One of the characters is colorblind (protanomaly) and he usually has a friend help him pick clothes out to make sure things match, but that friend is busy. So instead, he ends up getting help from the other character who he doesn't know very well.

They don't like each other very much (they're not enemies, they just don't really trust each other and they bicker a lot) so I thought it would be a nice way for them to bond and learn to trust each other.

She's initially confused as to why he needs help differentiating between colors, so he tells her that he's colorblind and explains what colors he can and can't see, and then they basically take turns holding up clothes and going, "What color does this look like to you?" and they both think it's neat learning about how the other person sees colors.

I know people shouldn't write stories about what it's like to have a disability they don't have, but I'm not sure if this scene falls into that category since he's explaining how it works and not what it's like to be colorblind outside of "yeah my friend helps pick out clothes so I don't wear an ugly outfit lol".

Does any of this sound like it would be an issue?

Hi!

My dad is red insensitive colorblind and he will send me pictures of his suits and ask what color they are because for suits he needs all the pieces to match. With other clothing he does not bother.

With that in mind, I'd say someone else picking your character's outfits for him is a little unrealistic, but definitely fit checking to make sure everything looks okay is fine. He'll know what colors his clothes are! Checking with new clothes or the same item in multiple colors is probably the extent he'll want someone else to help him.

On comparing color vision: with my dad's agreement to participate, a common game with him is "sort the M&Ms" and watch him fail at splitting orange and green ones into separate piles. So as long as your character feels comfortable talking or joking about it, it's all good!

Mod Rock

Hello,

I have a friend who's blue-yellow colourblind. According to her, most of her process takes place when she's actually buying the clothes. She stays away from most green and yellow because those clash with a lot of colours, and her collection of purple clothes is very small. She also tends to buy plain clothes without patterns or graphics, like plain t-shirts and simple jeans, because those are easier to match. When buying jeans, she sticks to plain blue or black, and she buys dresses instead of skirts to avoid combining a skirt and shirt that clash. Most of her shopping is done online, where the colours of the products are listed. Then, when the clothes get into her house, she either asks one of her roommates for help or uses an app on her phone that tells her what colour which article of clothing is. She sorts her clothes in her closet by colour and keeps clashing colour combinations in mind while picking out what to wear for the day. She has it down to a science.

If he's grabbing clothes out of his closet, he probably has them sectioned off based on what colour they are. All of the black would be in one place, the blue in another, etc. He might also keep problem colours (red, purple, pink, orange) away from the rest of his clothes in their own little section to avoid accidentally grabbing them, assuming he has clothes in those colours at all. He could also avoid bright reds and bright colours that are related to red (pinks, purples, magentas, oranges,) because those clash with a lot more than darker shades of the same colour will. If he's really worried about clashing, he might have the clothes in colours that will definitely clash with red- bright greens, powder greens, browns- also sectioned off. Colours and clashing are a whole science and there are a lot of ways he can avoid wearing clashing colours without help.

You might also want to keep in mind that there while there are some colourblind people who would be okay with games like this from people they barely know, my friend says a lot of them would not like this. Some, like her, would only tolerate this from another colourblind person. It's realistic that he could just be exceptionally chill about it, just remember that many people absolutely are not.

Mod Aaron

[before-it-felt-like-a-sin]

Good Luck, Babe! [3]

Pairing: Jackie Taylor x Fem! reader

Final installment of the Good Luck, Babe! (Parts one and two are linked here!) trilogy, at least of the Jackie parts. Happy ending, mild angst at the beginning, mildly suggestive at the end. Mostly reader and Jackie being cute and happy.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The thing was, the answer was a no-brainer.

You wanted Jackie. Nat was nice, to fill the void. To kiss and fuck and show off. Not that you didn't care about her, you did.

But Jackie.

Her stupid, radiant smile. The way she'd blush and giggle whenever you did something affectionate. How she'd call you late at night when her parents were asleep, and the two of you would talk late into the night.

Honestly, you could handle the hiding. You could deal with the fact she wasn't ready to be totally open about the two of you. And you believed her when she said she was sorry.

Not to say that you weren't worried. You were. It was hard to trust someone who had broken your heart so spectacularly. Shattered it even, into pieces that were hard to pick up without hurting yourself. How were you supposed to just go back to someone who did that? even if they were your first love?

You'd made your decision, though. You just had to get up the courage to tell her. And to tell Nat.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That was how you found yourself behind the bleachers, searching for Natalie. You'd resolved to tell her first, to break it off with her. Whatever it was you two were doing. You didn't want to lead her on

When she saw you approaching, she shooed her friends off, making sure that the two of you were alone. She looked calm, nonchalant, a cigarette (or a blunt, you weren't sure) held between her fingers.

"Hey." She smiled, but made no move to come closer to you. It seemed she already knew what was about to happen.

"Hi. Uh, sorry I didn't drive you home the other day. I'm sure that wasn't a fun ride." You were stalling, and both of you knew it.

"Wasn't too bad. Awkward, for sure. But she didn't start cussing me out for sleeping with her girl." She pauses for a moment, looking at you intently. "We both know why you're really here, y/n. You're not subtle about the way you look at her."

"I'm sorry." And you are, for dragging Nat into the mess that was you and Jackie. For sleeping with her to get over someone else.

She shrugs, and honestly doesn't look too put out by it. "It's fine, relax. We both knew this wasn't gonna last. Just don't make it weird."

Nat's still smiling, and you can't help but grin yourself. You knew she wasn't likely to start crying, or begging you to stay, but it was a relief to see she didn't even seem slightly upset.

"Thanks, Nat," you say, and she waves you off.

"Yeah, yeah. Go get your girl, or whatever.'

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You do not, in fact 'go get your girl'. What you do is go straight home to stare at the ceiling. You still had to figure out how to tell Jackie. Why was this harder than breaking things off with Nat?

Well, you knew why. Because you were terrified that things would happen the way they did before. That you'd go running back to her, and Jackie would be to worried about appearances to love you in the way you needed. She'd go back to Jeff, go back to something she felt safe with. And you'd be hung out to dry.

Honestly, you considered just... not saying anything to her. Not being with her or Nat. Maybe that was what was best for you in the long run, anyway. No complicated relationships with girls you weren't sure could be with you the way you wanted.

Staring at the ceiling, unsurprisingly, was not helping. It was just reinforcing negative thoughts, making you overthink every possible outcome. But you still couldn't get up the courage to tell Jackie. The fear was too strong.

You wished you could talk to someone about it, but the only two people that would understand were Nat and Jackie. The two people you simply couldn't go to. It was miserable, lying there.

Then, you started wondering what Jackie was thinking. If maybe, she was worried that you had decided not to be with her. That you were just... continuing to ignore her, like you had been since you were broken up.

If maybe, she'd decided to move on.

That thought scared you worse than anything else about the situation had. What if you'd broken things off with Natalie for no reason?

Of course, being alone wasn't a bad thing, necessarily. But then you'd have to continue to get over Jackie while not having the comfort of someone else. Maybe it wasn't healthy, but it had at least worked. A little.

You weren't always known for making the best decisions.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Another full week went by before you finally got up the courage to talk to Jackie. She'd been avoiding you, like se did before, but this time it was different. It wasn't complete ignorance. She'd smile at you in class, or wave at you in the hallway. This avoidance seemed to stem from fear that if she talked to you, you'd reject her. Tell her that no, actually you weren't into her anymore, that you wanted Nat.

Finally, though, you found it in yourself to tell her. To trust her with your heart again. Even though she had been the one to break it in the first place. Again, you weren't known for good decisions.

You’d decided that you’d tell her after school, slip a note in her locker and ask her to meet you at your car. You hoped she wouldn’t freak out, since she didn’t exactly know why you were asking to meet her.

You slid the note into the slits on her locker in your final passing period, hoping both that she'd see it, and that she wouldn't be too anxious during the last class of the day. You could be stupid, sure, but not cruel. You didn't want her to be apprehensive to see you.

The following hour crawled by, and you could barely pay attention to your teacher. History wasn't what you were worried about, not in the slightest. Instead, you were trying to calm your nerves about talking to Jackie.

Honestly, you had no idea why you were so nervous. She was the one who wanted you back. You had the power in the situation. Yet there was still that nagging feeling, the concern that maybe this was a joke, or that she didn't mean it.

You spent the entirety of class gathering the courage to talk to Jackie, and even as you walked to your car, you weren't entirely ready. You weren't even sure that she'd gotten the note.

That fear faded, however, when you saw her standing by your car as you walked towards it. So she had seen. And she wanted to talk to you, too. That was good, at least.

You felt your nerves heighten as you got closer, heart beating quickly in your chest. Steeling yourself, you approached her. She wasn't smiling, but she didn't appear upset either. Honestly, she was pretty hard to read.

"Hey..." you started, anxiety seeping into your words. You still weren't sure how you wanted to do this, what exactly you wanted to say.

"Hi," she replied, tone short.

"First off, I'm sorry I didn't talk to you sooner. I just... needed time to think things over, you know?" You can't make eye contact, even though you desperately want to. You're praying that you don't look like an idiot as you stand there.

She nods slowly, like she understands but isn't happy about it. You get that, understanding that she probably hated being left in the dark for so long.

"I like you, Jackie. A lot. Maybe even more than I should. It really fucking hurt me, when I saw Jeff leaving your house that day. You're scared, I get that. This, us, being with a girl, that's all new to you. But what you did? That's still wrong. Having him in your house without telling me was shitty of you. I can't do that again." It takes a lot for you to get that out, the words feeling heavy on your tongue. It's not that you want her to feel bad, but you do want her to understand why you were so upset.

Jackie sighs, tension seeping out of her body. She honestly looks defeated, like she doesn't know how to continue. She seems to find words, though.

"What exactly are you saying?" she asks, looking a bit apprehensive.

"If we're going to do this again, we have to do it right. I'm not saying you have to come out, or we publicly need to be a couple. I don't want to pressure you into anything." You pause for a moment, letting your words sink in. "But I can't deal with you playing couple with anyone. Even if it's just to keep up appearances. I can't go through that again. I have to know you want me, and just me."

She looks at you a moment, clearly processing, before she gives a slight nod. "That... that's understandable. I can do that. I- I'm not sure I'm ready to like, scream anything from the rooftops. But I can commit to you."

"Good." You smile, wanting to reach out, but knowing it's too risky. Even with the parking lot mostly empty, people could still see. "I'll pick you up tonight, then."

You confidence is suddenly back, renewed by Jackie's response to your words. She looks at you, surprised.

"For what?"

"I'm taking you out," you reply, and when she freezes, you add, "It's a restaurant like two towns over. No one's gonna be there."

She visibly relaxes at that, looking at you with a genuine smile on her face. "What time?"

"Seven. That way, we can still make it to the party tonight. If you're feeling up to it, at least."

The grin is still plastered on her face, and she gives a little nod. "Yeah. Yeah, I can be ready at seven. What should I wear?"

"Jax, just wear whatever. It's not super fancy, or classy, or whatever. There isn't a dress code or anything." You shrug, leaning on your car.

"Okay... um, see you at seven, then?" She seems nervous, but excited. You nod, and with that she offers you one more smile before waling in the direction of her car.

You get into your own car, still a little worried about what might happen between the two of you. Yet, you were happy. She was sorry, she was working on it. You'd be okay.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Six-thirty p.m., and you were panicking. Well, not panicking. But absolutely worried.

You couldn't get your hair to sit right, your necklaces kept getting tangled, and none of your outfits looked good. This was literally your nightmare.

For what seemed like the thousandth time in the last hour, you tossed another outfit onto the floor, and flopped onto your bed with a sigh. You had no idea what you wanted to wear, what would impress Jackie the most.

Momentarily, you had the fleeting thought to cancel your date. But no, you couldn't do that. Not after everything else that happened. You finally had Jackie back, you didn't want to lose her because you couldn't pick out a fucking outfit. You weren't twelve.

Begrudgingly, you stood up, rummaging through your closet for a new shirt. When you found one, you put it on, looking in the mirror. Not bad. You didn't have time to find a different pair of pants, so you pulled on your favorite pair. Maybe it wasn't exactly what you wanted, but you looked good. And Jackie would appreciate that.

Smoothing out your hair one final time (your necklaces were a lost cause), you walked out to your car, grabbing your keys on the way.

The drive to Jackie's wasn't long, and you got there a couple minutes before seven. She was waiting on the porch for you, and she looked absolutely stunning. Not that you had any thoughts that she wouldn't.

Her hair was loose and wavy, falling onto bare shoulders. The weather had finally warmed enough to wear tank tops, and she was taking full advantage of that. The babydoll tank she had on was a light blue gingham pattern, and she paired it with jeans. You noticed her carrying a jean jacket over her arm, and you assumed it was for if she got cold at the party later.

In short, she looked perfect.

You made your way up to meet her, grinning the whole way. "You look great."

"So do you," she replies, a smile lighting up her face. For a moment, both of you stand there awkwardly until she gestures towards your car. "You ready to go?"

Nodding, you snap yourself out of whatever trance Jackie had somehow put you in. As soon as she sees your head move, she practically skips over to your car, opening the passenger door and getting inside.

As you slide into the drivers seat, you turn towards her with a teasing smile. "You're supposed to let me open that for you, you know."

"Oh, yeah. Right. I'll let you get it next time." She flushes, even though she can tell you're joking. It's adorable, seeing her like this. You missed it.

"Relax, I'm messing with you. But I will get the door next time."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The drive passes quickly, the two of you catching up on everything that happened since you'd broken up. Soccer had been going well, which you knew. The whole school had been buzzing about the Yellowjacket's win streak. It was nice to hear from Jackie, though. How exactly everything had played out.

True to your word, when you parked the car in the restaurant parking lot, you opened the passenger door for her. You even held your hand out for her to take as she stepped out of the car.

"Thanks."

"Anytime, Taylor."

Jackie was practically glued to your side as you walked inside, and you couldn't ignore how happy the action made you. She stood next to you all throughout speaking to the hostess, even kept a hand on your forearm.

"Right this way," The woman said, leading you to a table near the windows.

"This place is really nice," Jackie murmured, gazing around the building.

"Romantic?"

"Yeah." Her voice was still quiet, but at the same time, excited. She seemed genuinely happy to be on this date with you, and you were glad.

"What're you getting?" you ask, opening the menu. Jackie stared at it a moment, reading through all the different options.

"I have no idea, there's so many options and so many look good."

"We could get two different things and split them?" She brightened when you asked, clearly hoping you'd say something like that.

"That would be nice, yeah." She nudged your foot underneath the table, catching your eye as you looked up at her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dinner went perfectly, the two of you talking the entire time. It felt like a real date. Sure, you'd been on dates with her before, but this was different. Real.

She held your hand as you walked to your car, interlocking your fingers together. It was dark out, by now, and a little chilly. But nothing that you couldn't handle.

When you got back to your car, as promised, you opened the door for her. Unexpectedly, though, she pulled you into a kiss.

Jackie.

Jackie kissed you.

It was soft, just a peck, really. But she'd still done it, still pulled you in for a kiss in the middle of the parking lot.

"Thank you. For tonight, for giving me another chance."

"I'd be stupid not to take you back."

She grinned as she slid into the passenger seat, and when you got into the car, she gave you an almost nervous look. "I was wondering... would you maybe want to skip the party? Go back to yours?"

"Are you saying what I think you're saying, Jackie?" You were surprised, to say the least, but she nodded shyly, and it took all of your strength not to take her right then and there.

"I'm down for a change in plans."

[tttt06]

Follow My Lead

Word count- 7.3k

UnexperiencedReader x IdolJeongin

Both are in the military.

Synopsis~ 

Y/N is a veteran of the Army; she's been there since she was 18. She lost a friend a couple of years back, and she's never been the same.

Her sergeant assigns her to silently watch over the smiley boy because everyone can tell he's too friendly.

I mean, Jeongin's new. And he's a K-pop Idol. Some K-pop guy again. You're not even from Korea. You wouldn't know. 

He's so comforting and soft with you. Even though you're his superior, somehow you follow his lead.

!Warning! Y/N refers to Jeongin as Yang. The two of them are (Kinda) enemies to lovers. Y/N is also in a higher rank than I.N. Also, Jeongin is kinda a freak and horny. He likes that she is his boss, but he likes making her submissive. Also, this is from a view of a black reader the word 'nigga' is used like three times

"L/N! Stop with the Alpha Charlie and get to work!" I bit my lip and stayed silent as I tightened my grip on the weapon. I've been in the military since I was 18 years old. I'm about to turn 23 soon, and once again, I'll be spending it in a country I'm not from.

I'm from the States. I joined the military because I had no other option. Free living, free food, free friends, and a good job. 

I was a high ranker, but I didn't let that go around as known. Most people underestimate me, and those who know how high I'm ranked don't say much.

"Uhm, Sarg, Commander wants to see you." I looked at Nigel. He had a faint smirk. "The fuck you do? Hm?" I got up with a huff, "Respect your officer." 

I walked to the commander's office, and knocked, "It's L/N." He answered quietly, "Come in." I walked into the office and saluted, "Yes, sir, how can I help you?" He sighed, "Sit the hell down, Sarg." 

I relaxed in the seat. "I have a new assignment for you. We have a couple newbies coming in, and they need training. You're our lead trainer." 

I sighed, "Sir, I declined the offer years ago. I'm just a Spec." He shook his head, "You've been E6 for a while. You're taking this job."

I tried to stay respectful, but it fell apart. "Don't you think it's a little odd how quickly I became an E6?" He let out a long sigh, "Sarg, you saved our country from a terrorist attack. Of course, it's strange. You need to start doing your duties. Now, I assigned you to take care of Private Yang."

I crossed my arms, "Sir-" He closed his eyes quickly, cutting me off with a swift hand motion. "Kid. No professional bullshit right now, you have to listen. You're forcing my hand. The Colonel is asking me why you haven't fulfilled a single duty I put on you. I can't tell him you ignore his direct orders. I've never asked of you... but you're risking mine and your own neck."

I leaned back in the chair and thought to myself. I was starting to feel the weight of my title crash on me. 

"Fuck. Fine. But just Private Yang. Ask Sergeant Surtees to train the rest of the faction." 

He went quiet before he asked, "Are you doing alright?" I stood up, "You know what happened last time I trained privates. You also know the answer to that question." I walked out of the office to go for a walk on base. 

I had to attend back to my post in about ten minutes. I just needed time to think.

The next day, I was at the office I hadn't been to in almost a year.  It was dusty and messy. The last time I was here, I had a breakdown. Being here was something I never thought I'd do. Yet, here I am. I was coming to pick up my files.

I hadn't trained in two years, so I forgot how to. I had to go back to my notes to see what to get.

I sat in the chair and spun. The squeak sent a shiver down my spine. A flash went through my head.

That day was hard to remember. The loud explosion as I screamed out to my comrade. 

The sound of it imploding on the swing as the rubber seat flew into the air. 

He laid in pieces as chunks of guts and blood pooled on the mulch. The sound of the swing creaking back and forth kept me breathing. A day hard to forget.

A hand waved in my face. I was met with this smiley face. "H-hi." 

My eye twitched, "Yang! You call me Sarg! You approach me as such. You never start a sentence with Hi, you understand me?" The younger boy's smile dropped. "Yes, Sarg." I stood up and said, "We're going to the training grounds, and you're going to do 50 rounds of 10 push-ups."

I looked at him with serious eyes. He ran to the training grounds and began immediately. 

I screamed for about four hours. When Yang stood again, I shouted, "NOW DO FIVE LAPS AROUND THE ENTIRE BASE."

Yang got to running. I sighed while sitting on the floor. I watched my higher-up walk over to me. "Surtees." He laughed, "I haven't seen you train in a long time." I laughed, "I know. Just doing what I'm forced to." 

We talked as we looked over his trainees. Surtees asked, "How long you think he'll make it for?" I shrugged, "He's too smiley, I give him a week. He'll crack." 

Surtees asked, leaning over, "You heard what he did before this?" I looked at him, "He was in the Stray Kids group. He's the youngest." I watched as my trainee was running back from behind the building. 

"You serious?" "Hella." 

My eye twitched again. "I'm dealing with a stuck-up princess then." 

I saw how focused Jeongin was as he ran for the next lap. He wasn't fucking around. 

I did have doubts about his abilities, but he seemed athletic enough.

It had been a week of training. Yang learned to shoot, he learned to run, and he learned to listen.

He picked up on it quickly. His only issue was he was a horrible yeller. 

The kid couldn't respond loud and confident for his life. I was back in my office with a new chair. I asked Commander to get me a new one because the squeaking triggered me.

I had repainted the walls to a pastel green, and the office was decorated with my interest. I was lost in paperwork.

I've done my research on Yang. He's very quiet with his group. He's seen as adorable and thick-skinned. 

It rings true. Yang is resilient...somewhere, but he needs support to stay strong. The boy is probably one of the best when thinking of rookies.

However, I got an email from the colonel. He wanted me to go on a solo mission with Yang for a teaching lesson.

When it came to training, I was the best. Commander still doesn't know much about my past, even before the military, but he knows I'm tough.

I'm tough on everyone I love and hate. That's because I care.

After I completed my office work, I moved to packing up my bags. 

We were to leave tomorrow. I sent one of the trainees to get Yang for me and waited to give him the news. 

"Sarg." I motioned toward the door with my head. "Close it." He closed the door and saluted me. "Sit and relax." 

Though it's horrible, I often let my trainees relax. They're supposed to be soldiers, but nobody can hold a cold face.

"Yang, we have been ordered by the colonel to go on a mission. Can you handle it?" He raised an eyebrow, "What's gonna happen?" 

I blinked at him, "Well, we do a perimeter check and watch. Something could be found." 

He looked confused, "Well, why?" I sighed, "There was a shooting. We're in Korea. We're being sent to keep a special look-out at the crime scene. It might be... a terrorist attack."

His eyes widened, "A gun?" I nodded, "We're being sent out tomorrow. Pack your bags. Be up and ready by 7 o'clock sharp."

He nodded, and I excused him.

I left my room to see Yang already outside. I followed behind him, "Yah! you're early." He saluted, "Yes, I am, Sarg." I let out a small laugh and packed my bags into the trunk.

Yang got into the driver's seat and put his seatbelt on. "You don't wanna stop by anywhere for something to eat?"

He looked at me and read my facial expression. "You're hungry. What do you want to eat?" I felt my face flare with heat. I turned the other way in embarrassment. "I want..." His sigh broke the tension, "Yes?" 

I continued while looking out the window, "I want Chik-Fil-A." He smiled, "We don't have that in Korea. We'll get something else."

I shyly proposed, "Some ramen then."

That was odd. I'm usually not shy like that, but when Yang had the strange dominance over me... I felt something.

He told me I was hungry and asked me where I wanted to eat. That was so hot.

I hadn't spoken the whole ride. Yang turned something on in me. 

I had cornered myself close to the door, squeezed my thighs together, and hadn't turned to him.

Ordering food was what broke the silence. As we ate in the car, Yang started asking me personal questions. Ones I shouldn't answer, but he's just a kid.

"So, your family supported your career?" I swallowed my noodles, "The bills needed to be paid." He looked at me, and there was this glint.

"...Sarg." I confusedly stared at him. His hand reached for my cheek, and I felt his thumb rub across it. 

"You had sauce on your cheek." I looked down at my bowl of ramen. "Thanks." 

Fuck, why did I want him to kiss me?

He continued asking questions. "So, you got a boyfriend or something?" I only glanced at him, "No, never have." 

He smiled, and a chuckle left his chest, "You embarrassed about that?" I sighed, "I... almost did... something happened." 

He ate his kimbap, "What?" My lips moved to a lopsided smile, "He died." 

Yang calmly put his food down. "Why do you always have to be so depressing?" My eyes widened in shock, "Excuse you!" He raised his eyebrows, "Look, you're young! Your life sucks, your friends died! But they wouldn't want you to be grumpy all the time."

"I don't deserve to be happy." His hand landed on my shoulder, "Yes, you do." 

He looked into my eyes. They were so free and genuine. 

I looked away. "Yeah." I had nothing else to say. 

I always forget he's older than me. He's a smiley person and has a younger aura about him. He's so mature and is holding onto this life pretty well.

I huffed, "I'm supposed to be your sergeant. Not your friend." He smiled while he laughed through his nose, "You can be both." 

He put both his hands on the wheel and began to drive off.

When we arrived, we were immediately directed to the crime scene.

A tarp covered the dead body, but not the pool of blood. Yang only looked at me in concern as I reached for his hand.

He entangled his fingers with mine and squeezed. 

I can't do this. I can't... I feel like I'm right back.

I let go and walked off. I felt like I was suffocating. The smell of blood, the quietness, the body... I couldn't take it.

As my chest ran out of breath, I caught myself wishing for Yang. My hands instinctively grabbed my chest as I tried to find the air.

I cried, "Fuck." 

There was silence before a voice behind me made me jump. Yang's eyes followed mine with concern. "Hey, hey, hey. You okay?" I nodded and pushed him away. "I- I can't take this." 

He rubbed the back of his head, "I get it." He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the bench. 

"Can we look at the cloud together?" I just nodded along, barely hearing what he asked. I looked up at the morning sky and felt my air return to my lungs.

I felt so small. 

Yang still hadn't let go of my hand. "Your thoughts feel clearer?" I looked down to see him staring. "Yeah... they did." He only smiled, "I won't make you talk about it. I have a member from my group, Han... he has anxiety too." 

I looked down and played with his hand, "It's more like PTSD. I can't see blood or hear that squeak sound... It just reminds me of that day." 

He only listened. "He was my comrade, my friend. The love of my life all at once. I didn't follow orders. My commander told me to stand down. Only one guy was left. At least, that's what we thought. My comrade said two against one was too easy. We ran in, but... he ended up dying. There were four guys in there. I killed them all, yet my comrade still died."

Yang let go of my hand and grabbed my whole body. He scooped me up into a warm embrace. I felt safe in his arms.

"You're with me now." I nodded.

We stayed there in silence. I eventually worked up the courage to go back.

We were there all night and were both too tired to drive back. I ended up getting us a one-bedroom. Two beds in one room. It was an overnight stay, and we'd be up and back on our way that morning. 

I let my commander know we'd be back late. When we got to the room, I smacked right on the bed. "Be up by 7."

I didn't hear a response, but I went straight to sleep.

I woke up in a sweat. I shot up and felt my lungs gasping for air. "Sergeant?" I turned to the other bed to see Yang fully awake. 

"Ah, sorry." He turned on the bedside lamp. "come here." He flipped the cover over in an inviting manner. 

I sat on my bed for a moment, thinking. 

Is this okay? He's my subordinate... But I need to sleep.

I sighed and got up. I walked over to Yang's bed, and he pulled me closer. His warm breath tickled my ear, "Sleep well." 

When I woke up, my cheek was squished against his chest, and his hand held onto my shoulder. My hand lifted me from his chest. 

His eyes opened sharply. I smiled, "It's just me." He smiled and swooped a loc from my face. He tucked it behind my ear, "Good morning." 

I felt my heart tingle. I pushed away, "Get ready. I'll drive us back." I slammed the door shut and walked to the convenience store. 

No way am I falling for a subordinate. Not happening. The last time I fell for someone here, they died. Plus, he's an idol... he won't be able to make this public.

I grabbed the convenience store food and went to pay for it. The cashier mentioned, "You look upset." I looked up at him. "I am." He smiled, "Maybe a stranger could help."

I huffed, "I'm his boss. I like him." He looked at me with shock, "Oh... well." 

I gave him a defeated smile, "I told you so. I'm hopeless." There was a silence before he just responded, "Hey, you never know... You know Blackpink?" 

I gave him a blank stare, "Nigga... I speak Korean fluently. What are you trying to say?" "You never know until you try." 

I laughed, "That's not what the song is about." He shrugged, "I don't listen to them." My eye twitched, "I can tell. Thanks for the useless advice."

I walked out with my bag of supplies and back to the hotel. Yang was walking out. "Yah, I got us food." 

I handed him the bag, "How'd you know... you got all my favorite stuff." I shrugged, "Just eat." I got in the car, and the first thirty minutes were quiet. 

That was until Yang burped. "UGH! What the fuck, Jeongin!" He turned to me quickly, his eyes wide. "What did you just call me?" 

My eyes stayed glued to the road, "I don't know what you're talking about." He said, "Please, call me that a lot."

It had been about two months since that whole situation. Yang had been wondering why I hadn't been talking to him. Plainly because I don't want to.

That whole situation with having to calm me down, cuddle me, and feed me... it felt too personal. 

I finished my report and heard a knock on the door, "Y/N, it's Surtees. Let me in?" I sighed, "Come inside, it's fun inside." He laughed as he walked in.

"Why are you singing Mickey Mouse?" I just laughed. Surtees sat, "I don't know how, but that Yang kid is already at the top of his class. They're thinking of promoting him." I let out a half smile, "He's a good kid." 

Surtees crossed his arms, "What happened on that mission, Y/N?" I squinted at him, "I told you." He rolled his eyes, "I don't think you're telling me everything." He leaned back in his chair.

I looked away from him to 'finish' my paperwork. There was a long silence. The only sound was sheets of paper swinging in the air. 

"Y/N." 

I looked up to see Surtees staring at me. "You serious about this being your last couple of months?" I sighed, "I can't take it anymore. My friend died here. When I did that mission with Yang, I couldn't take it. I'm weak. Too weak to protect the country." 

Surtees said, "Ah, so that's what happened." I raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean?" His smile spread, "You had a panic attack in front of the trainee, and now you're too embarrassed to talk to him."

I looked down, frustrated. "Y-yeah." Surtees only laughed. "You know the kid has a crush on you, right?" I looked up, appalled, "What?!" He held his stomach as he hunched over from laughter. 

"What are you talking about?" He smiled, "He's obsessed with you. He even came to ask why you haven't spoken to him." 

I felt my body tense as I thought about him holding me tight that night at the hotel. 

I didn't want to... but I think I really like him.

I shook my head, "That's... not right." Surtees said, "I think you should go for it. It's clear you're able to be vulnerable with him." 

I shook my head, "No! I shouldn't!" Surtees sighed, "Why? He's not going to die at war like your friend did. It's okay to fall in love again."

I shook my head, "But... Avery died because of me." Surtees smile had depleted. He looked at me, feeling sorry. I hated the pity, but it felt nice to be cared for.

"Y/N, you should sign up for the therapy they have here. You should also let Yang take you out. Maybe it's what you need."

I took his word as I silently cried. The tears fell from my cheeks, and Surtees stood up. "I know you hate when people see you cry. I'll see myself out." He patted my head and walked out. 

Surtees was always like an older brother. He was ahead of me by age and the system. I was one of the younger ones here. 

And that's thanks to the misfortune I suffered at 17.

I ended up huddled up in my office for about three hours. I eventually got up to quickly get something to eat. 

When I walked out to get some fast food on base, I was met with Yang. He was standing outside the convenience store alone. 

"You're supposed to be sleeping." He laughed, "Can't sleep when my friend ignores me." 

I glanced at him and walked past him. I was quick to get my food, but on my way out, Yang shouted to me, "Call me Jeongin... one more time." 

I turned around to look at him, "Excuse me?" He said, "Just once... I-I'd like to go out with you."

My eyes widened, "Yang, you're crazy." He asked, "Please? I want to be the person you want." I held my breath as I stared. My heart was racing, and my hands were shaking. 

"Y/N, you should sign up for the therapy they have here. You should also let Yang take you out. Maybe it's what you need."

Surtees's voice rang in my head. 

"Sure. But don't try to fuck me on the first night." He laughed, "No promises. When are you free?" 

He said, "Tomorrow, all day." I smiled, "Fine, let's meet at five." He smiled, "At the small pond, with the fishes." I nodded absentmindedly. I turned around and walked home. 

The next day, I had on civilian clothes. It wasn't often I wore an outfit, but I did today. 

I don't understand, but I wanted to impress Yang.

I wore a thigh-high dress, some white sneakers, and white socks. My locs are in a quick bun with the two front strands out to frame my face. 

I exited my place to see Nigel at my door, "Really?" He looked me up and down and said, "So Yang really did ask you out."

I embarrassingly punched him in the shoulder, "Shut up! Respect your Sergeant." 

He crossed his arms, "Looks to me like you're playing civilian. A civilian just punched a military officer." I furrowed my eyebrows as Nigel continued, "You don't look good. You look like a bodybuilder in a dress."

I had nothing to say. 

Do I?

He snickered, "Enjoy your date." I walked away with a new insecurity. 

Am I too big? Am I too buff? My job requires me to work out, but am I too muscular?

My thoughts were clouded as I made my way to the park. I saw Yang there with flowers. He was stylish. "Hi Y/N." 

My eyes widened. 

I'm not used to hearing my name. "Oh, hello." He smiled while handing me the flowers, "Come sit." 

I finally took a look at my surroundings. Jeongin made a little makeshift picnic. "It's not Chik-Fil-A, but I tried." 

I smiled and carefully sat down. "You look good in yellow." I tucked my loc behind my ear, "Thanks." 

He smiled back and looked at me. I wasn't paying attention when he started talking because I was thinking hard.

He said I looked good in yellow. Do I look good in the dress? I shouldn't eat, I should lose the weight then. I don't want to look huge. I need to get muscular but dainty. What meal plan do I have to follow to get like that.

"Y/N!?" I blinked as I looked at Yang. "You okay? You spaced off completely. I called your name like five times. Am I boring you? You wanna go somewhere else?" 

I shook my head, "No-no! You already set up." 

Jeongin said, "What's on your mind?" His voice got soft when he asked. It made my heart flutter when the concern bubbled from his throat.

"Nothing." He crossed his arms, "C'mon. Age-old tricks get you nowhere. What's wrong?" He smiled as he waited for an answer. 

I played with my fingers in my lap and whispered, "Just something stupid Nigel said." He leaned in, and I couldn't help but notice how buff his arms were. "What'd he say?" 

"I look like a bodybuilder in this dress."

He quirked his eyebrow, "You surprise me. Didn't take you as someone naïve." I looked up at him in shock. 

"Yes, your arms are a little muscular," He leaned over to squeeze them, "But you're still tiny." He kissed my cheek, "Now eat. I worked hard to beg Minho to make these chicken sandwiches."

I was still shocked by the kiss. I came up with a conversation, "Minho is your bandmate, right?" He nodded as he chewed his sandwich. 

"Second oldest hyung. I'm the maknae." I nodded, "What's it like being famous?" 

He looked up at me, "It feels like I have these guardian angels around me all the time. It feels like a higher power is protecting me. When I go out, people recognize me. I can tell even when they don't come up to me. If something happened to me, my fans got my back." 

I smiled, "You actually love your fans?" He nodded excitedly, "... It's like when your favorite cousin comes over for a sleepover." I laughed, "I get that." 

I ate the chicken, "Wow, this is good. Is Minho single?" He squinted his eyes, "Not funny, will never be funny." I smiled, "I'm kidding."

I thought, "Would I get to meet them? Your bandmates?" He nodded, "Them before my parents." I laughed, "Probably for the better." 

He raised an eyebrow, "What about you? When do I meet your parents?" 

I smiled, "Well, they're both dead, but we can meet their graves in America." Jeongin pouted, "I walked into that. How'd it happen?"

I said, "Bank robbery." I popped a strawberry in my mouth, "I was 17 when it happened. I had to go into foster care and got kicked out the day I turned 18. Came to the military to get money."

He nodded along, "That's upsetting. I get why you don't trust people then." 

I nodded, "Not even. It was just a traumatic time. I felt like life was so unfair. I was still grieving, and to be homeless while trying to go to high school was not fun. I got bullied." 

He furrowed his eyebrows, "That's super fucked up." I smiled, "I got suspended because I fought the whole group of girls and won. My dad was an ex-convict, so I know how to prison fight." 

Jeongin laughed, "And there it is." I smiled, "Not a Y/N story until I get slick at the mouth with someone." 

Yang laughed, "I love your slick-ass mouth. It's hilarious." I laughed, "You like bratty girls, don't you?" He shrugged, "You're gonna have to find out." 

I rolled my eyes, "Might have to find more than one thing in the bedroom." I sipped my water, and he laughed. "Trust, you make me so hard that it grows three times the size!" 

I laughed back, "Did you just admit to having a small penis, Yang?" He leaned closer, "I told you, my name is Jeongin." He kissed me deeply and slowly.

My arms wrapped around his neck as he slowly pushed us on the blanket. His hands kept him above me as one lifted the already short dress higher up my thigh.

"Mm~" He smiled against my lips as he kissed me again, "You like that?" I nodded, and he looked down, "You like being touchy, don't you?" I nodded again. "Fuck. You're so adorable when you're under me." 

He pulled away and sat up. "I have to keep my composure with you. You're dangerous." He pulled the corner of the blanket onto his lap. 

He was right about how fast and big it grows. It was huge.

I bit my lip and looked away, "I should probably tell you, I've never had sex before." He smiled, "I can tell. I'll make sure you can handle it."

I giggled at the thought of it. Jeongin cheesed, "Oh, you're a nasty girl."

"You'll just have to find out."

We'd been together for a couple weeks now. We'd sneak around and mess around. It was honestly so fun with Jeongin. 

Jeongin was actually a funny person. We had each other's sense of humor. He was also very lively and had a HIGH sex drive.

The two of us hadn't done IT yet. Mostly because I'm scared to. He hasn't mentioned it. He always stops when it gets too far or when I cum from his fingers. 

He's a patient man. Even though there will be times he invites himself into my office to display his boner. He won't mention anything.

Only a few know about what's going on between us. Everyone knows not to fuck with me because I'll have you on cleaning duty, and you'll be starting with the kitchen refrigerator. 

"Sergeant L/N, it's your boyfriend." I rolled my eyes, "What the fuck do you want Nigel." 

He walked in and sat on my seat, "You know Yang cursed me out after saying you looked buff in a dress. Ah, fun times. Now, we have an assignment. There's a new gen of trainees. They want to make you train a team." I sighed, "I don't want to, but fine, I guess." 

I smiled to myself while thinking of Jeongin. He'd been on my mind all day. He said he had something planned after work for me. He always gives me his time and attention. 

"Stop thinking of your boyfriend and take this folder of paperwork. It had the trainee's background at Bootcamp." 

I nodded, looking at the first page, "Ah, this person cried and peed himself on the second day? Jesus. Why does Commander give me all the weak ones." 

Nigel laughed, "Because your softness on them makes them tough." I bit my cheek, "Alright, get out." He stood snickering and left the room. 

I was only sitting on this for five minutes before I heard another knock on the door. 

I opened the door, "Nigel, what the hell do you want now-" 

Jeongin smiled and pulled me into a tight hug. "I finished early. Now, give me a kiss." I wiggled my head out of his tight headlock and kissed his cheek. 

He kicked the door behind him, "A real one." I laughed and kissed him for real. His lips were soft, and his breath was light on my top tip. 

He sucked in a breath, and his hands traveled to my waist. He lifted his shirt, and I gasped. "Here?!" He turned around and locked the door. 

"Whose gonna know?" I laughed as he lifted me onto my desk and kissed down my neck. I moaned as he lifted my shirt. He threw it on the floor and sucked on the hickeys he left last time.

He unzipped my pants and rubbed his thumb over my clit. "You couldn't even wait for tonight?" He smiled, "Because you looked so good today. You look so good in uniform." I bit my lip as he kissed my ear.

I felt his fingers dip into my panties. My legs spread absentmindedly. "Fuck, you're so submissive to me." I leaned back, using my hands to prop me up on the desk. "It feels good." 

"Can you sit on my face tonight?" I nodded, moaning to his rhythm. 

He was always slow and steady. Always curling his fingers until it hit my gummy spot. 

My stomach started to feel tight as he sped up. "I love it when you make that face for me. You're about to cum on my fingers? Hm, baby?" I nodded as I felt myself about to release.

I held his shoulder to keep me steady. He pulled his fingers out and flipped me over my own desk. 

He pulled down my pants and dug his face into my pussy. I moaned as his tongue swiped over my clit. 

"Shit. Innie, I'm cumming." He only dug his fingers deeper into my hole. I covered my mouth as I came all over his fingers. Jeongin licked me clean, "Give me your underwear." I stepped out of my underwear. "They're so wet. You're so nasty. Letting me take you in your office." 

I turned around, and he pressed a kiss on my lips. He kissed me harder as his big hands wrapped over my ass. He tightly squeezed it and let go. My ass jiggled from his release. 

"You have such a pretty ass. Pretty stretch marks, pretty skin... from my pretty girl." I bit my lip, feeling shy. "You like my stretch marks?" 

He smiled and gave me another kiss, "You're gonna get more when I get you pregnant. If you don't like them, you better start now." 

I had put on my clothes and was ready for this makeshift date Jeongin had made up.

He kicked out his roommate and made a movie night. It is endearing. I sat on his office carpet floor, and he pulled me into a cuddle. 

"You wanna watch Ponyo again?" I smiled, "I love how you always wanna watch my movies. What do you wanna watch?" He thought, "I heard 'The Challengers' with Zendaya was pretty good." 

I turned to him, not having it, "Either you love Zendaya, or you just wanna watch sex movies with me." He smiled, "Euphoria wasn't a movie." I rolled my eyes, "Baby, we already did stuff three days ago, two days ago, yesterday we did it four times, then today, and you wanna do it even more?! I'm exhausted." 

He looked at me seriously, "You want me to calm down?" I could tell he was taking it to heart, "I-uh...no." He clicked his tongue, "That's what I thought. Now, pick a movie." I sheepishly smiled and turned on Ponyo.

I'm predictable, I know!

We sat together watching it. We ended up moving to the couch and spooning. Jeongin was a little spoon, mostly because I liked being pressed against the back of the sofa. I felt safer here. My arms were on his shoulder as I watched from behind his big frame. 

Jeongin said, "This is my favorite part for some reason." Sosuke walked outside to see the water reaching the doorway. I smiled as I reminisced. 

This movie got me through a lot. 

"Ah, I love when the boat gets big because of her magic!" Jeongin turned to me, "You are so cute." I pouted, "When will you see me as sexy?" 

"When you take all your clothes off." 

I rolled my eyes and shoved my hand on his face. I turned his head, "Watch the movie horn-hog."

Honestly, I liked that he was so horny all the time. It was so attractive. He said, "You look so cute in my clothes. How am I supposed to contain myself?" "By watching the movie." 

Jeongin said, "You think I don't notice when you mouth the words?" 

He turned to me with that smile. He lifted me onto his lap, and my middle felt how hard his dick was.

"It's so cute when you do that. How many times have you seen this?" 

I smiled, "219 times." He laughed, "That's like 3% of your life dedicated to this movie."

I said, "Actually, 2.7%. I did the math. This movie reminds me of my childhood. How good I had it, how big my imagination was. How big the world seemed." 

He cupped my cheek, "The world is big." I scrunched my nose and leaned down to kiss him. Both my hands kept me propped on his big chest.

"Your dick is bigger." He smiled, "That's my girl." 

He flipped us over instantaneously, "You wanna feel it for me?" I laughed, "Not in the living room." He sighed while scooping me up bridal style and threw me on the bed.

"What about in my room?" He smiled at me as I crawled over to the edge of the bed. 

He bent down on one knee to meet my eyes, "Cutie, you wanna try today?" His eyes were sincere. 

"Trying going all the way? Y-yeah." 

He smiled, "No pressure. You can always tell me when to stop." 

He smiled at me as he pushed me on the bed gently. I expected him to be rougher. 

He's all talk. He's actually the sweetest and gentlest baby ever.

He loves to take care of me too.

He slid off his sweatpants from my body. "Always wearing my clothes." I nodded as he kissed my neck.

I let out a soft moan as he dug his fingers into my hole. "You're still stretched out. But I'll need to add another finger." 

He shoved in a third finger, and I moaned out in pain. "Nng~" He whispered between my legs, "I know, baby." 

He looked up, "You feel comfortable taking your shirt off?" I nodded as I pulled it off.

Jeongin's lips teased my clit. He kept flicking it. I bit my lip when I felt his other hand slide to my chest. 

He rolled my nipple between his big, callased fingers. 

"You feel good, baby?" I could only whimper, "Mhm~" 

I felt my stomach growing a knot, "I'm gonna cum soon." He let out a soft sigh, "Cum for me, baby. I can't wait to watch you shake under me." 

I loved how much of a talker he was in the bedroom. He always pushed me to the edge with his words. "Your sweet pussy is gonna cum all over my fingers, hm?" I nodded as he went faster. 

My moans only got longer as I squeezed my thighs around his head. "Ah~ I-I'm gunna... mmm~" I came on his fingers.

He pulled away, "I can't lick you clean today, I need that for me." He looked me over before kissing my nose, "I'll be back." He walked to his bathroom and came back with a pack of condoms. "Not sure how long until I wear you out, I brought three condoms." 

I shook my head in disbelief. I knew he was only half joking.

He slid his pants down. His dick was so hard. "Can you put it on for me, baby?"

Fuck yes.

I crawled over, now in only a bra. I pulled down Jeongin's boxers and watched his dick spring out.

It slapped his stomach as it touched right above the belly button. It was huge, I've never seen his dick before. It was pale, and the tip was pink. 

I put it in my hand as I felt it throb.

His hand immediately gripped my head as he observed me. 

I carefully slid on the condom. I never put one on before, so I struggled a bit. Jeongin groaned as he watched.

"Fuck, your so cute." He grabbed both wrists with one hand and moved his hand from my head. He slid on the condom, and his head dove back.

My warm palms were right back on his dick. "Fuck, Y/N. What are you doing?" I slid his long and thick dick in my mouth.

I kept going until it reached the back of my throat. 

"Fuck! Yes, baby, take it." I moaned as my eyes fluttered closed. "Fuck, your throat feels so good, baby." 

My hands were on his thigh as I sucked on his tip. Jeongin had put his hand back on my head. 

"Just like that." He pushed my head back and forth. 

"Let me fuck your throat. I want to watch you gag on me." I let his dick drag on my tongue as I looked at him with my doe eyes. 

He bit his lip, trying to keep his composure. He grabbed my chin and kissed me hard.

"Put it back in your mouth, baby." I grabbed his dick and started sucking it. He held my head steady as he thrust deep into my throat. 

Apparently, I don't have a gag reflex. Jeongin's dick slid right into my throat. 

His tip grazed against my front teeth, and I felt him shiver. "Oh fuck. Just like that baby." I swirled my tongue around his dick as my other hand massaged his balls. 

His grip on my locs tightened. His thrust got quicker as he began to groan. "Oh yeah, baby. Let me destroy that pretty little throat." 

He never was usually like this. Jeongin has always been a gentle horn monster. Hearing him speak like this to me made me hot and bothered. 

My fingers traveled to my pussy as I began to finger myself to his fast-paced rhythm. "Fuck yes, baby. Touch yourself to me." 

He went faster, but his thrusts were shallow. I started gasping with every moan, which led him to pull out a little.

Jeongin squeezed his eyes shut as he began to let out a long moan. "Fuck Y/N, I'm cumming." 

He came in the condom, and I watched as it leaked through the condom. I swiped my finger across his twitching dick and licked my finger.

He tasted salty.

Jeongin then pushed me on the bed, "It's your turn, I'm gonna fuck you so deep and slow, you won't know your own name."

I pulled off the used condom and put on a new one. Jeongin gripped my wrist and put the fingers I used to finger myself in his mouth. 

His tongue swirled around my fingers, and I moaned.

He positioned his dick into my pussy and shoved it in there.

I felt the immediate stretch. I felt so stuffed like my pussy was about to pop.

I squeezed my eyes closed and let out another pained whimper. My hand dropped from Jeongin's mouth, and he kissed my cheeks.

"You okay?" I nodded, "Yeah, you're just really big." He smiled gently, "Am I too big, or are you super tight?" He kissed my forehead, "Relax for me. It'll feel better." 

He slowly pulled out and thrust back in. My hand gripped his shoulder. "Agh~" He panted, "Fuck your tight little pusy is squeezing around me." 

I moaned as his thrust gotta a little rougher. His dick was already hitting my gummy spot. 

I muttered, "Faster." My body was shaking from pleasure as he picked up the pace. Already, my stomach was tying the knot around him. I let out loud moans. 

I felt like I was peeing as this wet substance sprayed out of me. I started to shake uncontrollably.

Jeongin pulled out quickly and kissed my neck, "You feel good, don't you, baby?" I nodded as I continued to ramble incoherent words in pleasure.

My body relaxed as Jeongin rubbed my thigh. I said sadly, "Did I just pee?" He smiled, "No, babe. You were so aroused that you squirted."

I looked away from him. He continued, "That's a good thing." 

I huffed, "Can we keep going, or does that mean we have to stop?" He cheesed, "Do you wanna keep going?" 

I nodded, "I do." He smiled and towered back over me. He positioned himself back in, but this time his dick popped right in. The pain was thin between pleasure.

I let out another moan, and he sunk into me. I bit my lip as he thrust into me at the same pace. He whispered in my ear, "I won't lie. Watching you squirt was the hottest thing I've ever seen you do."

I let out a laugh, but it turned into a moan as he roughly slammed into me. 

The knot got tighter as I curled into him. My neck dove back, and Jeongin took it as the perfect opportunity to suck on my sweet spot. 

I felt myself starting to cum all over again. "Ah~ I'm gonna cum Innie." He thrust faster as he rubbed my thighs in a circular motion. 

I balled the sheets into my hands and felt myself cum. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as my back arched.

"Fuck!" I squeezed around Jeongin's dick leading him to twitch. But he didn't cum. 

He let me ride out my orgasm, and relax a little before the next round. Instead, he held me mid-air, and my legs hooked on his shoulder. He was slamming into me quickly. My moans were loud in his ear as he panted from his rhythm.

"Oh fuck! You're so deep~" My body swung into the air and collided with his stomach. The squelching noises of my pussy were loud in the air. 

He sighed as he started to throb in me. He carefully placed me on the bed and fucked me from behind. My face was digging into the sheets as he slapped my ass hard. 

We were at least on the third condom by now. My legs shook as I cried out, "Fuck, I'm cumming!" He said with a satisfied groan, "Me too, baby girl." 

Our moans harmonized as I fell over. Jeongin plopped onto the bed and caught his breath.

"You're such a good girl." He cupped my cheek and kissed me deeply.

We cuddled that night all night long. When I woke up, he was there, and with breakfast.

We traveled together to America on leave, and he visited my parents. And we ate Chik-Fil-A because I cried the whole car ride back.

That was the day I told him I loved him too.

[kkoct-ik]

how are you supposed to react to the realisation that your parent is like actually abusive

[mars-ipan]

i do love my family very dearly but the internalized ableism the men in here struggle with is. so much