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henry7931 · 2 days ago

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Billy’s College Adventure Part 3

Samuel:

“Good Morning,” says Billy to me from my body.I almost have to do a double take after seeing myself laying next to me.

“Morning,” I say with a grin.

“So it’s Saturday, what do you have planned for us Mr. Bodythief?,”

“Well you’re gonna just have to dressed to find out,” I say back.

“Booooo!!!”

I stand up and Billy tosses a pillow at me.

“Relax! I’ll tell you more, let’s just get ready,” I say winking at him.

We both get dressed and it took all of my energy not to ask him if we could hook up in the shower.

I’m starting to really like Billy but I have this weird thing about getting too attached to a guy. Especially with the assholes I’ve dated in the past. I’ve just been burned too many times although Billy seems different…

I don’t know…I just don’t want him to think I’m too clingy. Which I now realize is an oxymoron since we are literally in each other’s bodies.

Anyways enough about my feels.

Billy and I head back to my apartment.

“This place looks familiar,” says Billy sarcastically.

“It’s not much especially compared to your place but it’s my temporary home,” I say back.

“Ohhh come this isn’t bad at all!”

“Billy you’re in a full ass house,” I say rolling my eyes.

“Okay, you’re right. I’m just the rich privileged kid.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re at least aware,” I say pushing your shoulder.

“So what’s the game plan? Are we just gonna stand around in your apartment?”

“ No. I need the book that my great uncle left me.”

I head into my room and open up my closet. I grab the book from the top shelf.

“So Billy, are you ready to put your powers to test?”

“Geez, I think so.”

“Good!”

I start scrolling through the book digging for the part where it talks about the power of having to swappers.

“Here it is!”

I’d start skimming through it and get to a specific part.

I start reading aloud, “ one swapper is powerful, but their abilities can be limited… but with two swappers now that’s some real power. Rarely in our culture you will see two swappers who are capable of getting along… But if two swappers can conjoin powers together, they can do some really interesting things. For instance, swapping and creating a new reality . Two swappers have the ability to swap two individuals bodies, and change the perception of reality where both individuals think that the body they are in has always been their body. Essentially, neither one of them know that they are swapped and everyone else around them thinks that has been their body the whole time.”

I stopped reading for a second and look up a Billy to see what his thoughts were about what I just read.

“ are you gonna keep going?”

“ well yeah, what do you think though?”

“ I think that’s pretty freaking cool. I mean it could be a little bit messed up, but I’m kind of interested to try it.”

“ Really? Are you 100% sure?”

“ yeah let’s do it!”

I continue to read the rest of the page and I get through all of the instructions.

“ OK Billy, now we have to find some guinea pigs.”

“ I mean, should we start with someone we know or try it with a stranger first?”

“ Well I think I controlled environment would be best. Somewhere where we cant let them walk away and lose them immediately after the swap.”

“Smart!”

“ I’m a genius right? Also, Billy, this doesn’t have to be the first one we try.”

“Wait, what else can two swappers do?”

“Do you want me to tell you about all the other swap powers or can I jump right to the one I really want to try?”

"HOW MANY MORE ARE THERE?!?"

"Let's start with this one, third party possession. Or I like to call it-- a person puppet. Basically one of us can take over someone body without leaving the one we are in habiting. It's like two bodies at once."

"Does that person know that you or I have taken over their body?"

"No... I have read this one over a couple of times now. Basically they will be in a unaware state while one of us are in control."

"Okay, I guess that one sounds less chaotic. Who should we try it on?"

I thought about it for a minute and then I had someone in mind. I peaked out at the window to see if my neighbor was home.

"I got someone who could work," I say with a mischievous grin.

“Who?”

“My neighbor Reid, you’ll like him or at least his body lol.”

“Wait am I going to possess him?!?”

“Yeah, I think you’ll like it.”

“Fuck, fine! Let’s do this!!”

I grab Billy’s or I guess my hands and say, “I want you to focus. Thinking about all of your powers almost like you’re about to swap with someone, okay?”

“Got it.”

“Now close your eyes and picture a part of yourself floating out of my body, not all of yourself… just a part.”

“Okay…”

“Can you see it?”

It takes a minute for Billy to focus but then I see our hands and they start glowing a bit.

“I can see it,” he says softly.

“Great, now picture that second half of you floating out the window to the house door.”

Billy’s closed eyes move shut.

“I’m in the neighbor’s house… I can see everything inside. Wait, I hear someone… sleeping… now I’m in his room. Holy shit! I can see him!!”

“Really?!? Now Billy this is what you’re going to do next, float into him. Doesn’t matter how you do it.”

Billy’s eyes spring open and he says, “I’m in him. I feel his body… it’s so strange Sam. I’m him and I’m me.”

“Well come on over lol!”

“Okay one sec.”

A few minutes later and our front door swings open. It’s my neighbor’s body.

“What’s up you sexy fellas!!”

I turn to Billy and then back at Reid’s body as they are both grinning cheek to cheek.

I watch as Billy coordinates Reid’s body over to a chair.

“Look at these muscles Sam!,” says Reid’s body

“Fuck this is so hot! I’m watching myself control him, it’s like I can do some kind of strange role play. Wait a minute!!”

Reid’s body tugs off his tank top and then his shoes and socks.

He stares down at the giant feet and says, “they’re big.”

I watch as he picks up foot and smells it. He rubs Reid face all over his massive foot.

“This is so wrong but I’m so turned on. You’re gonna either have to watch or join us.”

Billy still in my body walks over to the giant hunk and reaches into his shorts.

They say in unison, “that feels good.”

I was starting to get hard just watching both bodies interact. Billy started running my hands over Reid’s muscles.

He pulls off Reid shorts and underwear. His dick comes out and both of us marvel at the giant cock.

“Let’s take turns with it,” he says from Reid’s body. “Shit I meant to say that from your body!”

We both laugh and I say, “All good lol, bedroom?”

“Great idea! You fellas are gonna have fun with me aren’t you? Especially this giant cock!,” says Reid’s body standing up while shaking his dick.

“Yes sir,” I say to him.

Billy picks me up in Reid’s arms and carries me to my bed.

We all three climb in and Billy asks me, “could you tend Reid’s junk.”

“Sure!!”

I grab onto the massive dick girthy dick. It’s surprising to see just how big it is.

“Are you gonna just stare it or suck it?,” says Reid’s body.

I turn to Billy down by Reid’s feet. He’s giggling and says, “sorry, I have two hard dick right now!”

I try to take as much of Reid’s I could fit in my mouth. It’s just so big. I get the entire thing wet and use a hand to work the shaft and his big hairy balls.

Billy on the other hand pulls off my pants and begins using Reid’s feet for a foot job.

Both of them moan in unison and say, “FUCK! You have no idea how amazing this feels!!”

I pump Reid’s dick faster and faster…

Both of them moan louder and louder….

Billy in my body reaches up under his ass cheeks and fondles his my body’s cock for me.

“LET ME FINISH IN MY MOUTH PLEASE SAM!,” he screams out.

I’m forcing Billy’s throat down on Reid’s dick.

Both of them scream out, “FUCKKKKKKKK!!!!”

That’s when rounds of cum squirt down my throat. It fills my throat and I can’t take anymore.

I look down at Reid’s dick and it’s still pouring more and more out.

Billy in my body cums all over Reid’s feet both of them grinning.

I fall back on the bed and both my body and Reid’s body with Billy still in control use themselves to give me every inch of pleasure.

Billy in my body climbs to my face and start making out. He twist’s his actual body’s sensitive nipples. Meanwhile Reid’s body sucking me off and tickling Billy body’s ballsack.

I can’t only take so much before I blew my load into Reid’s mouth…

All three or two… I don’t know… we just lay back cuddled up.

I turn to Billy in my body and say, “That was amazing.”

Billy grins and says, “we are definitely going to try this again!”

#body swap #male tf #male body swap #body theft

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untilwereallfree · 3 days ago

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TLDR: Obviously the article is right that none of this should drive people to fascism. But it is an anti intellectual exercise in letting capitalism off the hook.

I recommend the book The Righteous Mind, for reasons people don't pressure their own best interests (though I don't agree with its ultimate ideological conclusions), and the Contrapoints videos on J. K. Rowling and Envy, for resentment politics, reactionary movements, and cruelty. If you want something well articulated and that has sources. And you know what? Caliban and the Witch. Good points about many related topics.

Statista is always questionable, because they actively hide their own sources (exit polel) and I didn't see the described exit poll numbers in widely reported data.

https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/2024-elections/exit-polls

https://www.cnn.com/election/2024/exit-polls/national-results/general/president/0

There's also stuff that just doesn't seem to be sourced?

While I would argue living paycheck to paycheck is voluntary after a certain income, and it may be technically true that "most" Americans don't live paycheck to paycheck, it's a little silly to act like it's made up when it is still ~ a quarter.

https://www.cbsnews.com/news/paycheck-to-paycheck-definition/

Also not sure what they mean by saying the median American has savings. How much? According to who? Again, ~ a quarter have less than $1000 saved.

Newsweek is not the most solid source, and their source is paywalled. Everywhere else I see says the question

https://bankingjournal.aba.com/2024/08/survey-one-in-four-americans-have-less-than-1000-in-savings/

I also don't see evidence the "average" American thinks Democrats are liberal. This article says it's 47%.

https://www.newsweek.com/democrats-liberal-voters-poll-1829683

https://mediabiasfactcheck.com/newsweek/

Newsweek isn't the most solid, and the other sources I see describe the question more as asking if the party is liberal, not "too" liberal, meaning that people who are saying it is may see it as a negative or a positive. A slim majority of Democrats consider themselves liberal as of 2020 (this seems to have been the furthest left option).

https://www.americansurveycenter.org/short-reads/more-americans-view-the-democratic-party-as-liberal/

https://www.pewresearch.org/short-reads/2020/01/17/liberals-make-up-largest-share-of-democratic-voters/

Median household income (unsourced) seems to be correct.

https://www.census.gov/library/publications/2024/demo/p60-282.html

I can't find a 2024 source for the median income of Trump voters. In 2016, it was $72,000, and median US income was $56,000, at least according to this article, which links its source a little below, but that link unfortunately seems to be dead. Median was $61,000 for Clinton and Sanders in that election.

https://www.ft.com/content/6de668c7-64e9-4196-b2c5-9ceca966fe3f

Comparing this to global income without describing how the comparison is done is not even a factual claim, it's baseless rhetoric.

https://www.brookings.edu/articles/the-us-recovery-from-covid-19-in-international-comparison/

It's not clear who the article thinks is the US's peer, or in what specific way we've recovered fast, so I'm going to pull up global info on economic recovery from covid.

This seems to be true, and I suspect due to similar pricing, this article in fact have lightly plagiarized Brookings by not citing it was their source.

If I'm reading this article correctly, we have recovered to pre-Covid, but not pre-recession, numbers.

As for wages keeping up with inflation, this seems to be somewhat true at absolute best. They've been rising, but adjusted for inflation, they're just kind of keeping up.

https://www.nbcnews.com/business/economy/inflation-higher-biden-rising-pay-makes-rcna158569

https://www.epi.org/publication/charting-wage-stagnation/

UK job seeker pay numbers are approximately correct, but they're not compared to the US, which is ridiculous. It is also important to note that in the UK, you might get any number of other benefits and support as well. I won't approximate these numbers, and I'm not approximating the numbers for SNAP either. The US pays anywhere from $10 to $974 (though this source isn't the best), depending on which state you're in, and how rich you were before. I can't imagine someone getting $10 thinking £71.70 is "preposterously low." Maybe they only spoke to rich Americans. Unemployment lasts 12-26 weeks, depending on the state. Job seekers lasts 26 weeks.

https://www.gov.uk/jobseekers-allowance

https://www.gov.uk/browse/benefits

https://www.gov.uk/jobseekers-allowance/eligibility

https://worldpopulationreview.com/state-rankings/unemployment-benefits-by-state

https://www.cbpp.org/research/economy/how-many-weeks-of-unemployment-compensation-are-available

Many US stages still have a minimum wage of $7.25, because that is the federal wage. The minimum wage in the UK is more complicated, but it is currently £11.44 naturally for workers over 21. Their exceptions include trainees and prisoners. Ours include tipped workers (though the employer must make up tips to the minimum wage), some trainees, and people with disabilities, who can be paid by calculating what fraction of a non-disabled person they're worth. Neither country requires minimum wage for prisoners.

In the UK, you also get free healthcare, and if you do have to go out of pocket, my experience has been that you pay much, much less. There are more comprehensive comparisons out there, but I personally paid £80 for a drug that in the US costs $775.

https://www.dol.gov/agencies/whd/minimum-wage/state

https://www.dol.gov/agencies/whd/minimum-wage/faq

https://www.dol.gov/agencies/whd/fact-sheets/39-14c-subminimum-wage

https://www.gov.uk/national-minimum-wage-rates

https://www.gov.uk/national-minimum-wage/who-gets-the-minimum-wage

The average barista makes $15.23 (~31,67.00y) They earn approximately the same in the UK at £12.30 ($15.28 as of Feb 11, '25), (~£25,584y, or $31,700y as of Feb 11, '25). As for doctors general practitioners are paid $152,649 in the US, and £73,791 in the UK. A massive difference, yes, but not barista money in either case.

https://www.indeed.com/career/barista/salaries

https://uk.indeed.com/career/barista/salaries

https://www.indeed.com/career/general-practitioner/salaries

https://uk.indeed.com/career-advice/pay-salary/how-much-does-a-doctor-make

Ironically, saying that Americans are bad because we're soft is kind of fascist.

It's true Americans don't care very much about economic inequality as much as other factors.

https://www.pewresearch.org/social-trends/2020/01/09/most-americans-say-there-is-too-much-economic-inequality-in-the-u-s-but-fewer-than-half-call-it-a-top-priority/

The article then cites a podcast, which has no obvious credentials or citations. The host says in the about they have an MA in political philosophy.

https://www.politicalphilosophypodcast.com/about

There are plenty of people who discuss this reactionary tendency, so this is strange as an only source, but I am not going to listen to it right now to find out if it's appealing to any particular biases. Here, there's even a podcast as a source, and it both names the expert interviewed and cites where it got its information. In writing. On the page.

https://www.vox.com/future-perfect-podcast/386100/2024-election-trump-republican-party-reactionary

In 2023, 36.8 million people, or 11.1% off the US, lived below the federal poverty line.

https://www.census.gov/newsroom/stories/poverty-awareness-month.html

Yes, incumbents have been doing badly.

https://apnews.com/article/global-elections-2024-incumbents-defeated-c80fbd4e667de86fe08aac025b333f95

In early '24, 72% of Americans felt they were doing okay financially.

https://www.npr.org/2024/05/22/1252712615/prices-americans-concern-economy-inflation-expenses

Yes, the economy is not in recession, because a recession hasn't been declared. There is money being made. "The top 10% richest households owning 93% of this public equity wealth." A recession is the way to describe the economy being bad that most people know. The term for when the economy is good, but only for the rich, I'm pretty sure that's just called capitalism. People aren't stupid for thinking the economy is bad. For most people, it is.

https://www.forbes.com/sites/dereksaul/2024/05/22/no-were-not-in-a-recession-but-heres-why-many-americans-feel-like-we-are/

https://www.businessinsider.com/personal-finance/investing/are-we-in-a-recession

https://www.cnbc.com/2019/12/11/americans-say-strong-economy-only-helping-the-rich.html

Describing reactionary politics as reactionary is not taking away agency from regressive movements, and that is a baffling thing to assert. It doesn't make being a regressive and a fascist not the person's own responsibility. Being a reactionary is a political stance you can choose not to take.

Being reactionary does not necessarily refer to overall goals, but it is easy to see how certain goals are selected at a given moment as a reaction to civil rights. This is the basics of examining a moral panic. These reactive tactics are tools actively manipulated for the underlying project and ideal of regression.

https://www.britannica.com/topic/reactionary-movement

https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/pops.12983

https://tcf.org/content/report/the-politics-of-moral-panics/

I have no idea how to fact check this unsourced and vague claim about gendering the political parties. It seems possible, but I didn't see anything actually talking about it. There is a gender voting gap.

https://www.brookings.edu/articles/the-growing-gender-gap-among-young-people/

What socialist left? Who? What did they say?

Wikipedia has Umberto Eco's famous definition /g list of traits. Including the contempt for the weak I called out in this very article. Regressiveism is also a key identifying factor. It's actually the entire first two. Appeals to populism as well.

The second link is the whole essay.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ur-Fascism?wprov=sfla1

https://archive.org/details/umberto-eco-ur-fascism

Pretending the current rise of fascism isn't part of a pattern is so anti-intellectual it might as well be propaganda.

https://vcresearch.berkeley.edu/news/fascism-shattered-europe-century-ago-and-historians-hear-echoes-today-us

The US may not like socialism, not they may also not know what it is. Supporting socialist policy but saying you hate socialism is a sign of being uninformed, not that socialism is doomed. It may be. Just price it better. 20% of the US thinks autocracy would be a good system, and 12% think the same about military rule. Only 82% of the US even likes democracy, and 49% percent for unexpected experts. They would rather have an unelected expert than an autocrat, but not by as much as one might hope. 36% of the US sees socialism positively, compared to capitalism at 57%. That's being down, but I think we'd all agree the pro autocracy wave has a chance.

https://www.pewresearch.org/global/2024/02/28/attitudes-toward-different-types-of-government-systems/

https://www.pewresearch.org/politics/2022/09/19/modest-declines-in-positive-views-of-socialism-and-capitalism-in-u-s/

It seems like the argument is "Americans are selfish and entitled and don't deserve what we have, much less more equality" which is baffling from someone who just said socialism is unappealing. "You get what you get and you don't get upset" isn't a good lesson to teach children. It's certainly not radical progressive praxis.

Conflating delivery drivers with minimum wage workers with doctors is blatantly dishonest. "Currently, $7.09 per hour is the average pay for a food delivery worker in NYC." It's going up to $19.96, which is $41,516. IF you live in NYC. I believe this is part of graduated minimum wage pay raises that are now being applied to these workers. Elsewhere, delivery drivers may make much less.

Seems like autocratic contempt can be a historical pattern, and not "just stuff that happens." I wonder why that is. It's certainly not explained or sourced.

Oh it is just propaganda. Are they claiming that liberalism makes you immune to that?

"Balancing individualism and social obligation in careful tension immunizes the ideology’s adherents to the worst pathologies of prosperity. A rich liberal is often a preposterous creature; vain, overly impressed by their own intellect, affected in their politics, and more than a little hypocritical. But they are still light years away from the enthusiastic ignorance, performative cruelty, and zealous nihilism that await us in liberalism's absence."

Who was it who said people are becoming conservative not because they want to be rich but because they want to be mean? That shit was spot on

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mcflymemes · 2 days ago

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AS SAID BY ASTARION ANCUNÍN * assorted dialogue from baldur's gate 3

you are mine. no one can change that.

i wish... to drink. and be drunk.

you haven't earned the right to stare at me like that.

you could scream bloody murder out here and no one would ever know.

we should find a tavern and celebrate.

do my eyes deceive me? the gang really is all here.

i'd rather be the only dark power inside your body, if it's all the same to you.

you're cute, you know. in another life we might have been friends.

i don't hate you. because this is not you.

we just have to be vigilant. keep our wits about us.

you can try, but i will stop you.

do what you like. it's none of my concern.

i simply do not care.

we could do it, you know. we could rule the world.

i... i don't know what to say. thank you.

well that's just disgusting.

listen to me, damn it! i'm trying to save you, even if you're too stupid to see it.

believe what you want. i'm done with you.

you have no idea what i can do.

sounds like a delightful dinner plan. perhaps i'll join you.

forgiveness? you've never forgiven anything.

i don't need anyone to speak for me.

i don't owe you a damn thing.

don't worry. i'll keep watch tonight.

just don't ask me again.

is there anything else? any new and interesting ways you can waste my time?

i'll come to you tonight, when you're snugly wrapped in your bedroll and we can have a little privacy.

this time i'll make sure i'm quiet.

you're lucky i'm such an open-minded person.

why send anyone after me? i'm hardly a threat out here.

what are you waiting for? help me!

"you can do whatever you want" sounds terrifying, and it is, but there's opportunity in it, too.

i am so much more than what you made me.

hold very, very still.

i'm sorry, but could you excuse us a moment?

get out of my way. i'm in no mood to talk.

you didn't think i could do it? i'm hurt.

i appreciate your loyalty, darling, but i don't think you understand.

fair? nothing about this is fair.

i don't know who they are, but i have plenty of questions.

i'm glad to hear it.

i do believe you. i know you only did what you thought was best for me.

i just need some time to let it sink in.

you're so good to me.

safe? how can i ever be safe now?

well, hello. looking for a cuddle?

now that you're back with us, we need to have a talk.

how flattering. and disturbing.

please tell me this is important.

there's also gold, sex, revenge... quite the list, really. but failing any of those, i will always settle for shallow praise.

now just tell me i'm beautiful and we can call it a day.

i want to thank you.

you're a vision. and you're so much more than that.

this is all a game to you, isn't it?

for as long as i can remember, i've been used by others.

of course i was attracted to you. look at you, for goodness' sake!

i will forever remember what you did for me today.

that's what you've been waiting to hear, isn't it? that's what you want?

i have been waiting so long for you.

come, give yourself to me.

i'll take care of everything.

it's time to try living again.

i feel safe with you. seen.

we don't have to rush into anything tonight.

would it kill you to dispense a compliment?

looking for something?

honestly, you have no sense of fun.

i do appreciate your enthusiasm, but let's try to restrain ourselves a little.

would you like a tour? we can start with my tent, if you like.

everything was taken from me, too.

well, that could have gone better.

i don't know what you mean.

were you actually worried i was angry?

so what was it like? tell me everything.

i hope i'm not interrupting.

some day that soft heart of yours is going to be torn out of your chest.

what a party. we should do this again.

there you are. i've been waiting. waiting since the moment i set eyes on you. waiting to have you.

you've seen enough already.

i didn't want to lose control.

oh, don't be like that. not every problem has to be beaten to death, my dear.

wait! don't interrupt them!

let's not make trouble for some stranger.

my, this place is fun.

my past isn't exactly a happy story.

that was amazing.

it won't happen again. you have my word.

so many people need killing.

remember who saved you.

don't worry. i'm here.

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interlude63 · 2 days ago

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Weddings and Wounds

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: DUB-CON, toxic relationship, jealous!Rafe, possessive behavior, mention of forced marriage also english isn’t my first language.

Summary: You’ve been dating Rafe Cameron for a few years—maybe it’s finally time to make it official.

Word count: 2.5k

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Even though you’d been with Rafe for almost three years now, you still hadn’t gotten used to the fancy parties Cameron threw so often. This time, it was a much more important occasion—his cousin’s wedding. You wore an elegant, silky dress with a tailored fit. Of course, your boyfriend picked it out and paid for it.

“I told you that dress would look amazing on you. I always know what’s best for you, huh?” you heard Rafe say as he leaned against the door of his room.

“Yeah, it looks good,” you quietly responded. You didn’t look up to meet his gaze. Instead, you played with the fabric of the dress with your trembling fingers until you felt his hand on yours. His other hand gently grabbed your chin, and that’s when you finally met those intense blue eyes.

“You don’t like it or something?” he asked.

“No, I love it, Rafe. I’m just a little nervous, you know?” you said. You didn’t want to sound ungrateful, even though you hated the dress. You hated every dress Rafe had bought for you, every flower, every necklace, every perfume.

It wasn’t that those presents were unappealing to you—no, they were probably the most expensive and luxurious things you owned. But it all felt like an illusion. The gifts were meant to show others that your relationship with Rafe was perfect, that he cared about you and spoiled you. But they didn’t know the dark truth behind every gift.

“You’re nervous, huh?” he repeated your words, his smirk widening. “Don’t worry, princess. I have an idea to soothe your mind.” His fingers traced along your jaw, and when he saw your scared wide eyes, his smile only grew. He placed a small kiss on your lips and pulled back slightly to look at you again.

“Hmm, what would you say?” he asked in low tone, his hand beginning to wander along your body, dangerously close to your core.

“Rafe, the wedding starts in, like, 20 minutes. I think we should go to the car...” you tried to stop him, but it was Cameron’s firstborn son, so of course he insisted.

“Come on, we have plenty of time.” He murmured, his lips pressing against yours in a hungry kiss. Without waiting for a response he firmly pushed you onto his bed.

“Besides you look really really good in this dress babe”

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You ended up enjoying yourself at the wedding more than you expected. The music and food were great. You thought Rafe would be glued to you the whole time, always keeping an eye on you like most of the parties you attend to. But it turned out that Ward wanted to introduce him to some businessmen (his father always found a way to network and make connections, even at a wedding)

While your boyfriend was busy talking to them, you had some time to chat with Sarah. Even though she was Rafe’s sister, you hadn’t talked much before. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to—Rafe just never really let you. He didn’t like sharing you, especially with her, since he thought she was a spoiled, dumb bitch, as he has said many times.

"Hey, I’m not sure if it’s okay for me to ask, but Rafe said you’re hanging out with John B now?" Well, he didn’t say it exactly like that. It was more like, "Did you know Sarah is sucking off some fucking Pogue?" But there’s no way you are repeating that word for word.

“Oh yes, we’re kind of together. I mean, he didn’t ask me yet, but we spend a lot of time together, and I really like him,” she replied, and you could see the love in her eyes when she talked about John B. “I don’t want you to think I don’t like Topper or something. We just weren’t meant to be, I guess.”

Of course, she felt the need to explain herself—you were Topper’s friend, after all. Well, kind of. He was one of the two guys Rafe let you hang out with, the other being Kelce. But Rafe didn’t like it when you spent too much time talking to his guy friends. He’d cut you off mid-sentence and “joke” that they were trying to steal his girl, but you could always recognize the serious tone, knowing he meant it.

“But what about you? How are you even managing to stay with my brother for so long? I mean, no offense, but he’s kind of an asshole.”

Sarah knew Rafe was far from the perfect image he tried to portray, but she had no idea just how bad he could actually be.

You just awkwardly chuckled. “Yeah, well, he’s really—”

Rafe suddenly joined the table, his gaze flickering between you and Sarah. “I see that you enjoy talking with my sister,” he said, his voice laced with irritation. “More than with me, huh?”

Sarah, unfazed, responded, “We were actually talking about you.”

Rafe’s expression tightened, a sharp edge creeping into his tone. “Really?” he said, his smile thin and forced. “How interesting. What exactly do you have to say about me?”

You shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of his gaze. It was clear he wasn’t just curious—there was something more beneath his words, a flicker of frustration that you couldn’t ignore.

“I was just trying to say how good and loving you are” you said quickly, trying to ease the tension that hung thick between you both.

Rafe hesitated, his gaze lingering on you, intense and unreadable. For a moment, you were scared he wouldn’t believe you, that your words wouldn’t be enough to shift the mood.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally responded, his voice low and quiet, as if he were weighing his words carefully. “You know I’ll always take care of you.” he said, a slight smirk tugging at his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

As Ward and Rose joined you, their voices faded into the background, murmuring about wedding decorations. You couldn’t really focus on their conversation—it all seemed too distant. That is, until Ward spoke, his words pulling you back to the moment.

“You know, seeing all this today… makes you think, doesn’t it?” he said, a knowing smile on his face.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly. “Well, I mean, you two have been together for how long now?” His tone was casual, but there was something more in his words. “Maybe it’s time to make it official, huh?”

A nervous laugh escaped your lips, the sound shaky even to your own ears. Make it official. The idea of being Rafe’s wife—tied to him forever—terrified you. You already felt vulnerable as his girlfriend, but you couldn’t even imagine the weight of being his wife. You hesitated, unsure how to respond, but before you could gather your thoughts, Ward cut in, his voice teasing.

“Just saying, you never know when the right moment hits. Might be sooner than you think.” His gaze flicked to Rafe, who was looking at you now, his eyes unreadable.

Your heart raced. The thought of marrying Rafe felt suffocating, but what could you do?

──────────────────────

“It’s getting kind of late, huh? We’re heading back. Come on,” Rafe said, hurrying you toward his Jeep. He opened the passenger door for you, but the sharp, forceful way he slammed it shut made it clear—he was angry. For some reason. And that wasn’t a good sign, especially since you were supposed to spend the night at his mansion.

The drive was painfully silent. The only sound was Rafe’s heavy sighs, each one deeper than the last, like he was wrestling with something intense in his mind.

“Rafe?” you asked softly, but there was no response.

“Rafe,” you said again, this time a little louder, a little more desperate.

“Can’t you just shut up?!” His voice shot back, sharp and filled with anger.

He didn’t even glance at you. His eyes were locked on the road, hands gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. The tension in the car was suffocating, and a cold shiver ran down your spine. You felt a knot form in your stomach, a mixture of fear and confusion.

When you finally pulled into the driveway, Rafe stormed out of the car without a word, slamming the door behind him. He didn’t look back as he made his way to the mansion’s front door, opening it with a force that echoed through the night. You hesitated for a moment, but you knew better than to stay behind. Reluctantly, you followed, heart racing as you made your way up the stairs to his room.

When you reached the room, you found him halfway through unbuttoning his shirt, movements sharp. But then your eyes met his — filled with fury, burning like a storm ready to explode.

For a moment, neither of you moved, just stood there, locked in a tense stare. The silence was suffocating, until he broke it.

“You don’t have anything to fucking say?” His voice was like a slap.

Confused and a little shaken, you furrowed your brows, trying to process his words, but your heart was racing, your thoughts jumbled.

Rafe ran a hand through his messy, dirty blonde hair, his frustration clear as he moved toward you. His eyes burned with anger.

“Of course you don’t,” he spat, his voice full of venom. “You know why?” He didn’t wait for an answer, his gaze sharpening as he watched the confusion on your face, the look only making his anger flare up further. “Because you don’t think.”

“You embarrassed me,” he hissed, taking another step toward you, his presence almost suffocating. The tension between you two was unbearable now, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

“You made me look like a fucking idiot,” Rafe repeated, his voice low and sharp. “In front of my father, in front of Rose—everyone.” His hand shot out, gripping your jaw tightly, forcing you to meet his furious gaze.

“I’m sorry, Rafe. I didn’t mean to,” your voice trembled, the fear clear in every word.

He nodded slowly, a cruel smirk spreading across his face as he flicked his tongue over his lips.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re sorry, huh?” he mocked, taking a step closer, his breath hot against your skin. “But you still don’t want to marry your own boyfriend, right?”

so it was about that.

“It’s not what I meant, Rafe,” you tried to reason, your voice trembling, but he cut you off with a bitter laugh.

“I swear, you’re making me mad on purpose,” he growled, his words sharp and filled with frustration.

You shook your head, as much as you could with his firm hold on your cheeks, the pressure making it hard to breathe. But Rafe didn’t stop.

He nodded slowly, his expression twisted with emotion. “You like it, don’t you?” His voice shook, full of frustration and bitterness. “It’s like your favorite thing in the world.”

“I’m sorry, Rafe,” you whispered, your voice shaky as you tried to pull his hands away, but his grip was like iron.

“Yeah, you said that,” he snapped, his tone colder than before, the anger still burning beneath it.

He let go of your face—for now—and pointed sharply at his chest. “I’m your boyfriend, okay?” His voice was a low, dangerous growl.

You turned your head to the side, a small act of defiance that only seemed to fuel his anger.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he demanded, his words a lingering threat in the air, his tone dripping with anger. “As your boyfriend, I expect some damn respect.”

You barely whispered, “I do—” the words swallowed by the weight of your fear and anxiety.

He tilted his head slightly, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. Anger still simmered in his eyes, but there was something wicked in the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Show me then,” he ordered, his voice low and cold as he pressed his hands firmly on your shoulders, forcing you to your knees.

As you sank down in front of him, the weight of the moment hit you. His intentions became clear when he began to unbuckle his belt, and a sick realization settled in—you knew exactly what he wanted you to do.

The house was empty. Ward and Rose were still celebrating at the wedding with Sarah, and Wheezie was probably fast asleep in her room. No one was coming. No one would hear. It was just you and Rafe.

You knew there was no reasoning with him. You knew Rafe too well—his volatile nature, the way his anger twisted into something dangerous, something unstoppable. Once his mind was set, there was no turning him back. And tonight, you could see it in his eyes—he wasn’t going to stop.

After he unbuckled his belt, the pants followed, unzipping to reveal his already semi-hard cock.

After all these times you had him in your mouth, it still made you feel suffocated by his size, the intensity always leaving you gasping.

“We’ll see just how much you really respect me.” He said and every part of you screamed to stop, to fight back, but the fear kept you frozen. You couldn’t bring yourself to say no—not when you knew the consequences of defying him would be far worse than enduring this humiliation.

His hand pressed against your head, guiding you with a firm yet controlling rhythm, forcing you to move in time.

His fury made him harsher than ever, as if your body was no longer your own, but a puppet to his demands. When you stole a brief glance up, your tear-filled eyes locked with his —there was nothing kind in it, only cold, detached control.

You just wanted it to end. You were drained, struggling to breathe, your throat raw with pain. Tears streamed down your face, but Rafe didn’t care. If anything, it only seemed to turn him on more.

He was even rougher now, his loud groans echoing through the room, each one more intense than the last. “You better not waste a single drop.” He spoke in a hoarse voice and moments later, he came in your mouth, you could feel warmth and the salty taste on your tongue as he continued to use you beyond his climax. After he finally let you go and saw that you had swallowed, he murmured, “Good.”

Rafe was looking down at you, but then he bent slightly and gently stroked your cheeks, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. His breathing gradually evened out, and with a chuckle, he said, “God, I can’t believe my future wife is such a slut.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #obx x reader #outer banks #obx fanfiction #obx fic #dark fanfiction

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rahuratna · 3 days ago

Text

Synopsis: You come into some unexpected gold, and decide to treat your companions to a shopping spree. When it comes to this merry band of travelers, however, nothing ever goes smoothly ...

[Astarion x Tav/Reader]

Genres: Romance, humour, fluff, angst.

Warnings: Dirty jokes, Lae'zel's hatred of cardigans.

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

Taglist: @roguishcat @obsessedwhyyes @fantasyheroine

(If anyone else would like to be added to my BG3 taglist, please drop me a message or let me know in the comments!)

"Listen, all of you. I've got the perfect thing planned."

Watching their expressions with the air of a circus conjurer, you drew a small leather bag from your jerkin. As you shook it, the contents emitted the pleasant chime and clink of something valuable.

Wyll grinned, one finger tapping his chin.

"If I'm not mistaken, you got lucky with a hunter's stash."

Eyes closed and brow furrowed in concentration as he listened to the sounds from within the bag, Astarion nodded sharply.

"You're not mistaken at all Wyll. My darling has found ... let me see ... two diamonds, one jacinth shard, unpolished ... and a tourmaline ring."

A profound silence reigned after this statement. You snorted in amusement and Gale raised an eyebrow.

"Well. A rogue always has his uses, it seems."

You gave Astarion a bow, which he returned, his wrist circling in a mocking flourish.

"Correct, Astarion. And, since I found this little treasure, I've decided what we're going to do with it."

Lae'zel folded her arms.

"One can never have enough weapons."

Karlach groaned.

"Oh, come off. We've done nothing but arm ourselves to the teeth since the beginning. Let's do something else!"

You nodded, a small smile curving your mouth.

"I'm actually with Karlach on this one. Listen, protecting ourselves is important, and an absolute necessity. But we've picked up some good gear on the way here and it's about time we looked after our morale too."

Shadowheart raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"All right, I hear you. What do you have in mind?"

You clapped your hands together and beamed around.

"Clothes shopping. I mean, look at us. Most of what we're wearing is holding on by a thread and prayer and we've never prioritized that on the road here. Plus, there're all the recent battles we've been through, both in the city and out of it. Let's get ourselves a few outfits. Have a bath in a proper tub. Have a nice meal. No harm in that, is there?"

You heard cheers and murmurs of assent all round and nodded in satisfaction. Only Lae'zel still seemed put out by the need for what she termed 'frivolous nonsense'. Wyll patted her shoulder placatingly.

"You'll see what we mean soon enough, Lae'zel. Just join us. You won't regret it. Think of it as ... learning yet another Faerûnian custom."

Once your party had reached the city, you decided to split into groups in order to peruse the variety of clothing stores and boutiques on offer. You set upon the Elfsong Tavern as the place to meet after your shopping had been completed.

Your group consisted of Astarion, Lae'zel and Gale, while Wyll set off in the opposite direction with Shadowheart and Karlach.

Astarion took it upon himself to guide you, considering his familiarity with the surrounds.

"Oh, there's much less variety than what's on offer in the Upper City, darling, but there are a few good spots that not many people know about. There are merchants that import fine fabrics, and not everyone is aware of this, but they also employ skilled tailors who will make you a custom fit on request."

Gale looked impressed.

"You certainly know a lot about this, Astarion."

His compliment was waved off airily.

"Of course. I do know a thing or two about fashion."

You examined Astarion carefully as he said the words. There was something more here, some bitter undercurrent to the way he spoke. You knew him well enough by now to recognise when he was hiding an emotion dredged up by unpleasant memories.

You decided not to question him on it immediately. There was a time and place for everything.

Lae'zel was still looking decidedly unenthusiastic. As you meandered through the streets, she clicked her tongue and suddenly entered a shop on the left.

You paused before shrugging and entering behind her. It was a clothing store after all, one of the kind that sold rougher cuts for hard travel and the road.

Wandering amongst the wares on display in wicker baskets, you recognised a lot of familiar items, the colours perfect for camouflage, the homespun fabrics, the sturdy boots. Astarion turned his nose up at the selection, but this didn't deter Lae'zel.

She walked through the store in a straight line, picking up a shirt, trousers, underwear and boots and returned to you, a satisfied expression on her face.

"See? Shopping doesn't have to be an affair for the day. I've already picked out what I need. Now you do the same and we can go and find something far more worthy to spend our money on."

You shot a pleading glance at Gale and Astarion, both of whom rose admirably to the occasion.

Astarion came forward slowly, eyeing the clothes in Lae'zel's hand with a critical eye.

"Hmm. Hmm. I suppose ... no. Not at all. Not really. How ... disappointing."

"What do you mean?" she snapped, "What's disappointing?"

He bit his lip, shaking his head.

"It's just ... during all of our travels together, I actually have come to admire the kind of warrior you are, Lae'zel. You're certainly the fiercest I've known, and that's saying something. So ... and it pains me to say this, but ... this choice just isn't ... you."

Gale nodded in agreement, raising one finger as he explained himself.

"To put it in plain terms, a powerful githyanki like yourself should be dressed in colours and fabrics that exude ... intimidation. Power. Flair. These ... dusty road clothes don't quite cut it."

You glanced over at Lae'zel whose brow was now furrowed deeply, considering the items she'd chosen. She set them down and folded her arms.

"And I suppose you lot know what would suit a warrior like me?"

In spite of her challenging tone, you let out a breath of relief. This was Lae'zel's manner of giving in, somewhat, her way of showing her trust in the knowledge and abilities of her companions.

Astarion perked up and grinned.

"Oh trust me on this, Lae'zel. By the end of today, you'll be looking truly fearsome."

"Then lead on."

Across town, Wyll was facing a few challenges of his own. Shadowheart turned out to be exceptionally picky about what she spent her money on, and the higher the quality, the more her judgment of all of its minute flaws came to the fore.

Karlach, on the other hand, was so easily distracted by things other than clothing that they'd had to stay her hand away from her purse on more than one occasion when she saw a trinket or gadget that caught her eye.

Mind racing, Wyll finally hit upon a solution to the issue at hand, deciding to visit a store he knew of that catered to both their needs.

There was a certain company he knew that stocked both exclusive items for theatre actors, jewellry, props and hand-carved items of all kinds. He led them to the front door of the establishment and shot the two ladies a smile.

"So, this is a place I've known about for a while. Came here with my father a few times when we had costume parties and he wanted me to wear something unique."

When they entered, Karlach looked around in delight.

"Oh, Wyll! This is perfect! Look at all of these hats and horn ornaments! I can't believe how hard it is to find anything horn-related in this place."

Shadowheart, meanwhile, had hurried over to a selection of dark plum, cobalt and emerald-dyed dresses, eyeing them with ill-concealed longing. Wyll raised an eyebrow.

All Shadowheart's clothing choices thus far had been singularly streamlined and fitted to her form for ease in battle. He hadn't put her down for someone who preferred frills and flounces.

Clearing his throat, he approached and gestured to the dresses.

"Care to try them on? I'll ask the proprietor to - "

She backed off, hands raised almost defensively.

"Oh, no, not at all. I was just ... looking."

Wyll pulled one of the dresses, a deep violet silk, from the rack and held it up against her.

"Well now. That colour looks simply splendid on you, Shadowheart. We can't have you leaving here without trying it out."

Karlach bounded over, a red leather pointed hat sitting perfectly over her horns.

"Oooh, smashing! You've got to take that!"

Shadowheart's mouth opened and closed a few times as she uttered some faint protests, but was soon convinced to choose some dresses and make her way to the changing screens.

Wyll gestured to Karlach's outfit.

"And what'll it be for you, milady?"

She giggled and cleared her throat, adopting a coquettish pose.

"Well, aren't you a right charmer? What do you recommend for my strapping frame, good saer?"

Wyll held up his hands excitedly.

"So, when I was young, there was this stage actor, Lady Zenith, who took the city by storm. She played a pirate queen and I saw some of her appearances. Just fantastic. A lot of costume stores still sell clothes inspired by some of her looks, and I'm sure this place does too. I think they'll suit you perfectly."

Karlach's eyes were now gleaming in anticipation.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Show me the goods, man!"

This time, you'd taken Astarion's reccomendation into account and followed him to a different store, closer to the Upper City, that specialised in outfits for adventurers and mercenaries who were looking to make an impression at events and parties.

Lae'zel now seemed far more invested, and you also grew excited as you saw the array of clothing that shouted of wealth earned the rough and violent way.

Embroidered jerkins, leather braces and belts, embossed hats and smart trousers adorned the shelves, along with dress swords and scabbards, ruffled blouses, trimmed boots and fur cloaks.

You tugged Lae'zel through the store, and you could practically see the appeal of this activity open up in golden avenues before her eyes as you held up dashing outfits in blood red, dark green and black against her.

You handed her a few items to try on before finding a jewel-toned blouse, comfortable padded trousers and boots for yourself. Finally detaching yourself from the siren's call of colours and fabrics, you noticed that Gale was no longer in the store.

"Where'd he go?"

Astarion gestured vaguely somewhere in the region of the shop across the street.

"Said he saw something he liked over there."

Crimson eyes were flicking perceptively over your clothing choices. Hesitantly, you held them up for his inspection.

"Do they look nice?"

"They look wonderful, darling. Hold on."

He reached over your shoulder, thoroughly distracting you with the way his breath fanned across your collarbones and plucked something from a shelf above your head. He held it against the blouse you had chosen and you spied a delicate broach in gold filigree, a starling with a garnet eye.

"Oh, that's beautiful!" you breathed.

You made to take it from him, but he flipped the piece quickly out of your reach.

"No, sweetheart. This is my gift to you. I've been ... saving up a little too."

Something about those words tightened your throat, the bruised sweetness of a summer fruit, painful as it was poignant.

When you'd first met him, it had been obvious that Astarion had very little to his name. His clothes, in spite of their former grandeur, had been darned and repaired many times over, their gold threadwork faded. His belongings were all mismatched remnants of a time of wealth.

He had scrounged every ounce of gold he'd found in the field, and in battle, hoarding it with almost obsessive desire, the kind that comes from knowing the state of being truly destitute.

And to think that this same man was now offering up his gold to buy you something as frivolous as a piece of jewelry. You knew better than to turn him down. You'd wear his gift, and treasure it well.

You couldn't help notice, however, that Astarion had not picked out any outfits for himself.

"Arent you going to get anything?"

His gaze slid away from yours, traveling around the store as he spoke.

"Oh, I'm holding out for now. I want to find something I really like before committing. You know how it is."

Expression growing hard, you tugged at his sleeve, gaining his attention.

"Listen here, handsome. I didn't get my hands on those diamonds to dress you up in drow armour all over again."

His eyes widened slightly at your tone, fangs sliding into view as he smiled.

"Oh my. Are you annoyed with me, dearest?"

"No, but I will be if you don't pick something. And I don't care if you find something better elsewhere. I'll buy that for you too. And I'll buy anything else that takes your fancy."

"Gods below, it's so enticing when you shower me with adoration like this - "

"Astarion."

He uttered a small laugh, a genuine sound that caused an alarming flutter of uncontrollable tenderness in your chest.

"Well, if you insist. But you've got to help me pick them out. I can't see my own reflection after all."

You cocked your head.

"Is that why you didn't want to choose anything?"

He traced a finger over the laquered wood of the shelving before answering.

"Not quite. You see, when we served under Cazador, he made us dress according to ... his specifications. We could wear nice things, but they were all chosen by him. Owned by him. We had to return them immediately after use. It's ... not easy for me to accept such gifts."

"Oh ... I didn't realise. I'm - "

"Don't apologise."

His tone was sharp, only softened by the warmth of his glance.

"I know you. I know why you're gifting me things. It's the same way I gift you this broach. We do it ... as equals. Partners. Lovers. Nothing more, or less. We do it because we want to."

Wordlessly, you took his hand, bringing his fingers to your lips and holding them there. Astarion tugged your hand towards him, placing a soft reciprocal kiss on your own knuckles.

"Now, are you going to help me choose or not?"

He released you and sauntered away, shooting you his trademark smirk over one shoulder.

"And don't even think about sneaking a look behind the screens while I get changed."

"Wouldn't dream of it. And you're going to lace yourself into those fancy shirts, I suppose?"

"Never fear, darling. I'll be crying out for you just the way you like."

"Shadowheart? Are you all right in there?"

"What? Oh, I'm ... fine."

Karlach and Wyll exchanged glances. Adjusting the red leather hat over her horns (which she seemed rather loathe to part with) Karlach cleared her throat.

"Come on. We want to see you in the dress."

"It's all right. I've tried them all on. I think I ... "

"Shadowheart, I hate to insist, but we really want to see you in those dresses. We can't leave here with nothing."

Wyll's polite, but firm tone seemed to do the trick. The screen parted slightly before Shadowheart took a large stride out, almost tripping over her skirts.

She looked like a goddess descended from a more radiant plane than earth, that was for sure. The gown she wore composed a supple bodice, flowing skirts, fan-like sleeves and a brocade collar, turquoise shot through with pale green embroidery.

Karlach gasped and clapped, while Wyll spread his hands effusively.

"Stunning!"

"Oh hells! Why on earth were you hiding back there?"

Shadowheart's posture had been so stiff, it looked like she was practicing military drills, but under their positive response, she relaxed somewhat.

"Um. To tell you the truth ... I've always ... been partial to gowns like these, but I think ... I'd been told that they didn't belong on me. On someone like me, I think."

Wyll disappeared briefly behind the screens and re-emerged with the other gowns in hand.

"Well, I think these are well spotted. They'll all look marvelous."

Shadowheart eyed him skeptically.

"That's all well and good, but what about you, Wyll? I haven't seen you try anything on yourself."

Karlach nodded eagerly.

"Oh, go on. You're a fancy man, I reckon. Could do with some ruffles and tight pants."

Wyll snorted.

"I think you've got me mistaken for Astarion."

"Your arse is better."

"Karlach ... never let him hear you say that. And I mean never."

"Lae'zel, I never expected you to be so insightful regarding colour combinations."

"I'm good at most things. This should come as no surprise."

Astarion snapped his fingers.

"Ah, there she is. The Lae'zel we know and love."

Tucking away your own wrapped purchases into your rucksack, you frowned as you glanced out the door.

"We need to find Gale. Where on earth has he wandered off to?"

You followed Lae'zel and Astarion out into the street, examining the shopfronts for any sign of the stray wizard. A little further down the street, Lae'zel stopped so abruptly that you walked nose-first into the hilt of her sword.

"Ouch! What are you - "

"Be silent," she hissed.

Instantly, you were on the alert, hand snaking toward your weapon.

"What is it? Vlaakith's troops?"

"No. Worse."

Astarion drifted closer to your side, eyes scanning the street like a bird of prey.

"Don't keep us in suspense."

"It's Gale. Wearing some kind of ... monstrosity."

Hissing out a sharp breath, you shot her a glare.

"Why on earth would you make me panic like - "

"Shut up and look. It's ... truly horrifying."

Astarion had apparently forgotten his nerves in a second and gleefully sprang up on a low wall behind Lae'zel to get a better look across the crowded street, almost hanging piggyback off her.

"What is it? What could our dearest Gale be up to? Could it be - "

Gale chose that moment to exit the shop he had made his purchase at, a singularly self-satisfied expression on his face. As for what he was wearing ...

You hurriedly schooled your face into warm surprise when he saw you and waved, approaching eagerly.

"Oh, you'll never guess what I found. This used to be all the rage at Waterdeep when I was a lad, especially amongst the scholars."

Astarion deflated, arms draping limply across Lae'zel's shoulders.

"Gods below, don't get my hopes up like that. I thought he was cross-dressing for a minute."

It was a testament to how transfixed the githyanki was by Gale's outfit that she didn't attempt to dislodge Astarion from his perch.

"Gale. What is ... that you have on?"

The item in question resembled a robe, one much shorter that ended just below the waist. It was made from some kind of fluffy material, the colours pleasant enough, but strange to look at. Buttons came all the way up the front and it was clearly made for cooler weather.

Gale gestured to the garment proudly.

"Oh, this is a cardigan. Never see one before, I take it?"

"It's horrid," she blurted out, ignoring the way your eyes bulged and the fact that Astarion had now clapped a hand over his mouth.

Gale, fortunately, had developed something of a thick skin where Lae'zel was concerned. He waved her disgusted look away.

"Oh, come on. Give it a chance. If a whole city once thought it looked good then - "

"That city deserves to be razed to the ground."

He grimaced and turned to you.

"And your verdict?"

You shook your head hurriedly.

"Oh, I don't share her opinion. It looks comfortable and simple. Perfect for a ... wizard."

Astarion cleared his throat and you groaned internally.

"Oh, absolutely, darling. I just ... hope he never wore that around Mystra, because quite frankly, that would explain so much - "

Whirling on your heel you made a cutting motion with your hand. He was presenting an unusually united front with Lae'zel in their hatred of the cardigan.

"What is wrong with you both? He looks ... normal."

Gale sighed and folded his arms. He was getting that stubborn look on his face, the one that probably made the Weave quiver and entertain thoughts along the line of "Here we go again."

"Well, my apologies for offending your senses, but I will be wearing this every day from now on, considering how cold the weather's getting."

Lae'zel grunted as if struck with an arrow.

"You wouldn't."

"Oh, I would."

"I'll destroy it."

"You could try."

Raising your hands, you stepped between them.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, you lot. Gale, you're perfectly entitled to wear whatever you want - "

"I would certainly think so!"

"And Lae'zel, whatever your reservations, let's try to be civil, yes?"

She folded her arms and looked to be deeply in thought for a minute. Head snapping up, she approached Gale who regarded her warily.

"Wizard. I can't change your mind regarding this ... regrettable choice, but would you humour me on one thing?"

"And what's that?"

"Undo the buttons. It looks ... odd. Like a human in a sausage casing."

"She's right, Gale," chimed in Astarion, "The Weave works so much better when you show it some chest hair."

Gale raised an eyebrow.

"Probably why it never works for you then."

"Ooh, I love it when you get nasty."

The Elfsong Tavern was packed to the brim, the heat of many bodies, the sweet thrum of a lyre and the chatter of a myriad voices spilling into the dark streets. Your party had trekked their way upstairs to the refuge of your private quarters, leaving the door open in a mild concession to socialising.

The occasional patron would sway up the stairs and drink a toast to your good company.

To round off a day well-spent on treating yourselves, you'd ordered up some of the taverns finest ales, wines and dishes, laid out on a long table in the central area. Your companions took some time to bathe and dress themselves in their new finery before meandering over to the small feast.

Wyll looked sleek and elegant in a mahogany and gold coat, dark trousers and embroidered shoes. He lounged on the sofa beside Gale, who stubbornly persisted on donning his cardigan over a comfortable pair of woollen pants.

Studiously avoiding Gale, Lae'zel stood at the head of the table, a roast leg of lamb in one hand, her resplendent green doublet slashed through with blood red, providing an intimidating, if reassuring familiarity.

Karlach was currently downstairs, ordering more drinks from the bar, so you made your way over to Shadowheart and Astarion who were standing together by the hearth. You caught the tail end of their conversation.

"Purple looks a bit ripe on you, darling. Sort of like a plum that's been left in the dark for too long."

"Hmm. I suppose you think that white looks dashing on you. All it does it highlight your pallor."

"I am a vampire. I have to cultivate a certain otherworldly appeal. You on the other hand ... were you going for pauper princess banished from the kingdom?"

"More like assassin princess. A romantic image, you know? I have to wonder at those red highlights on your coat, though. What was the intention there? That you'd dribbled your dinner all over yourself?"

Attempting to hide the way your mouth twitched, you gestured to their clothes.

"I think you both look lovely."

"Oh, my sweet, how kind of you to say that about Shadowheart."

"Indeed. Astarion seems to think he has monopoly over good looks. It's nice to hear him corrected on that front."

Even as she spoke, she reached across and impatiently brushed away a thread from his coat.

"Gods, that was irritating. Now that's better."

Astarion regarded her sourly before clicking his tongue.

"Hold on. Your eyeliner is slightly smudged."

You took a sip of your wine, grinning to yourself as he fussed a little, correcting the stray mark beside her eye.

"There." He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Can't quite compete with me, but I suppose pale hair does look good on you."

"Likewise," she sniffed, before shooting you a smile and wandering off to find Karlach.

You finally let out the small laugh you'd been holding prisoner.

"Good to see you two getting along."

He huffed and made a show of adjusting his cuffs.

"I don't know what you're talking about, my sweet. What's that, in your goblet? A quality vintage, I hope?"

You allowed him to pilfer it out of your hand, eyes traveling across to where Lae'zel had now joined Wyll and Gale, stiffly complimenting them on their clothes.

"I think we needed this. A chance to unwind a little. Spoil ourselves."

Astarion drifted closer, fingers grazing the broach you now wore at your collar in place of honour.

"Indeed. You always seem to know ... exactly what we require. Even when we don't know it ourselves."

You turned and met his gaze, noting how the lightness of his tone betrayed the depth of feeling that was reflected there, just beneath the surface.

Regarding him with a tender smile, you extended a hand as the bard downstairs struck up a merry tune.

"Shall we dance?"

He sank into a gallant bow, fangs glinting in the dim light, and took up your offer, arm curling intimately around your waist as he pulled you close.

"Let's show them how it's done."

As you swept across the floor, swaying and dipping with Astarion's light guidance, you saw Wyll leap up and clap his hands, immediately inviting Lae'zel to dance with him.

She scowled and folded her arms, but Gale was always one step ahead.

"Oh, go on, Lae'zel. Weren't you the one who told us you could do just about anything?"

He stood and approached her.

"Of course, you could always dance with me instead. Get a firsthand feel of how soft and fleecy this cardigan is - "

She took a step back, an impressive feat on Gale's part.

"Fine! I'll partake of a ... turn with Wyll. Just this once."

Your dance was brought to an abrupt end when Karlach set the drinks down at the table with a resounding thump and cackled gleefully, wrapping her arms around you, hoisting until you and Astarion were both airborne on either side of her.

"Oh, you two precious things! Thanks for the treat, soldier. Just look at my hat!"

Astarion eyed the red leather dubiously.

"Looks like something right out of a sex dungeon."

"Even better!"

Breathless with laughter as Karlach whirled you around, singing loudly, you tipped the brim of her hat down and placed a kiss on Astarion's cheek, watching the softness build in his eyes, the burnished beauty of the firelight on his gleaming hair.

Seeing them all like this, these companions who'd wormed their way into your heart faster than any mindflayer tadpole, was well worth the battles that had brought you to this point.

You'd see this through, banishing the shadows from their lives one by one until light and merriment pervaded every living moment together.

And damn it all if you didn't look fabulous doing so.

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moonchild1 · 3 days ago

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can i just say how i am totally captivated by this fic once again just going back and reading everything again had me mesmerized by this plot line, seriously it is so good you guy have no idea, it's written to perfection that you are completely be drawn into the story, just like a movie it plays out in front of your eyes as you read the words i am not even joking it's literally the best part about it that you get drawn into the fic like that it's magical I tell you... sorry for the babbling on but i can't fully express how much i love this fic and i can't not mention the prince and me because it just reminds me of it especially oc's personality and how she works so hard to achieve her goals i love it so much, yoon your words, how you describe oc passion and jungkook's desires it's just beautiful you build the scenes so well and not only that the emotions, their thoughts it's like you are one with the character and this world you have build it sometimes brings me to tears to read the way your wrote their thoughts like in chapter 3 I literally had tears in my eyes... I was honestly blown away and that scene in the at the cafe when they are truly just themselves, i can't stop saying this but they way you write is pure gold and i hang on all of your words, the way oc and jungkook conversations just flow and holds so much meaningful moments like i can't describe it but it feels more like just a conversation for a story it just latches on to my heart and i feel like your words have so much meaning behind them, the placement of certain words, what they talk about it's like poetry if i am being honest i feel like there should be an analysis of each line or thought that they have that's the best way I can describe it...

jumping into ch. 5 can i just say i love oc's spirals about the jungkook dating news i don't wanna spoil it but gosh i love her trying to decipher why it's that girl, why out of the people in the world it's her i really enjoyed that and her subtle inclusion of herself in the comparisons hehehehe oc i see you, also i am with Yuri and oc on the hate train, oc's just hilarious in that conversation i love it.. so the slow ass burn warning was very much needed hey wow no I still can't believe jk did a whole post with that girl and didn't tell oc, i somewhat get where his coming from but cmon how did he think she would react especially since their friendship is so strong and they clearly care about one another hehehe and jk's spiral after she confronts him ouch the slowest burn ever and the angst got me hooked, i am absolutely looking forward to how things proceed between jk and this girl and oc's take on everything will she be able to focus on her time with nel i'm pretty sure she's gonna have jk on the brain (also not sure if i mentioned it but I am sooooo not team this girl she's clearly soaking up all the influence jk brings and the complete opposite of what jk needs and she's oc's nemesis so not my vibe i can only imagine a scene where this girl just says the wrong thing in oc's presence and oc just flips and gives her a piece of her mind oooohh I hope that (also the giggle /eye roll, which i totally blame on oc by the way, that i let out when i read this man was at a party making out with this girl, jk whatcha doing my guy??????) lemme hop on into the next chapter and see jk's thought this man better explain himself 😉🤭🖤

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 5

Title: Shocking Announcements and Camouflaged Explanations

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: I'm sorry the prince is dating WHO?

Warnings: PG16, swearing, drinking, pining, angsssttttttttt, Jk has a lot of feelings, and so does Reader. Yuri being Yuri. Adaline being Adaline. TOUCH of fluff.

Word Count: 6,006

Release Date: October 20, 2023, 2:00PM

A/N 1: brain mush. finally out. Thank you for understanding. Already working on 6.

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

It’s 2:30pm on the Wednesday before fall reading week.

Saturday’s looking so beautiful. Sunny skies and comfortable temperatures.

It’s 2:30pm on the Wednesday before the Friday you get to see Nel for the first time since August.

And by god you can’t wait. You’re counting the days, minutes and seconds till he’s in front of you again.

But it’s also 2:30pm on the Wednesday after you mysteriously woke up in your bed after movie night. And that thought alone has been in the back of your mind since you opened your eyes Monday morning.

You’d thought about asking Jungkook what happened, but also didn’t think you could face the mortification if his answer was the one you almost 100% knew it was going to be. Hell, you could already feel the nose dive your stomach would make towards pavement the second you got confirmation.

So instead, like any other rational person, you shelved it away in the back corner of your brain. Far, far back, hopefully being covered with dirt and cobwebs and lint as the days pass on.

Though you have a nagging feeling that someone or something keeps dusting—anyways, there are much more important things to be focusing on.

Currently at the greenhouse cafe, you’re sipping on hot chocolate and painting this week's florals on a canvas almost half the size of you. Perched onto an easel, a bunch of sunflowers is beginning to take shape when your phone dings so many times you're worried someone’s dead.

Dropping your brush, you scoop it up from its place on the edge of the table, only to see a series of texts from Yuri, and you loose a worried breath.

Her contact name is the same from when you two went to a party the first night of freshman year. While you were sipping from your first and only drink that night, Yuri was sloshed out her mind and slurring her words. And thus, SlurryYuri was born.

She whines every time she sees you still haven’t changed it. You were never going to, of course.

SlurryYuri [2:32pm]: BITCH

Oh, here we go.

SlurryYuri [2:33pm]: YOU WILL NEVER GUESS WHO WENT SOCIAL MEDIA OFFICIAL TODAY SlurryYuri [2:33pm]: BABE ANSWER SlurryYuri [2:33pm]: ANSWER ANSWER ANSWERRRRR SlurryYuri [2:34pm]: YNNNNNNNN

You [2:34pm]: Take a breath why dont you

SlurryYuri [2:34pm]: FINALLY. SlurryYuri [2:34pm]: By the gods YN… SlurryYuri [2:35pm]: ANYWAY SlurryYuri [2:35pm]: JUNGKOOK SlurryYuri [2:35pm]: as in PRINCE Jungkook SlurryYuri [2:36pm]: is dating ADALINE. SlurryYuri [2:36pm]: as in #1 ENEMY OF THE STATE EVIL BITCH ADALINE.

You spit out what was left of the hot chocolate in your mouth.

Thankfully, you had some of your mind about you and managed not to ruin your painting by turning your head…couldn’t say the same for the cafe wall though. Rustic brick now splattered with a lovely, Pollock-esque spray of brown.

Oops.

But Jungkook and…Adaline? That doesn’t make any sense whatsoever.

He hasn’t mentioned anything about this to you. You speak to him every day, see him almost every day, and nothing? Not a peep? A morsel? A hint? Nothing?

Maybe you two aren’t as close as you thought you were.

To be fair, you didn’t tell him about Nel. And now that you think about it, you haven’t seen or heard much from Jungkook since Sunday, which is unusual. He’s normally stuffing your inbox full of messages as the sun rises and sets, yet he’s sent maybe two a day since then.

You thought he was just busy with schoolwork.

Spiraling, you can’t help but wonder how long they’ve been seeing one another. How long he’s kept this little secret—not that it’s any of your business anyway, but he’s always seemed so open with you, with just about everything. So the fact that he kept this from you? What does that say?

Does he think you’d react like any other girl? That you would scream and cry and mourn and tell him he’s making a mistake, that you’re his true love? Like Adaline would if he weren’t dating her?

As if! And he knows that.

He knows that…right?

Doesn’t matter. Yes it does. No it doesn’t.

Ugh! Whatever!

Does he even know who Adaline really is? Or does she put on a mask in front of him too, like she does everyone else. She must because now you wonder how he could even possibly like someone like her, knowing…well her!

Bitchiness and duchess-ness aside, you and Adaline are incredibly similar, and Jungkook has never had any interest in you whatsoever, thank god. You and Adaline are both fine arts majors, both top of your class, talented, driven. You both work tirelessly for what you want, and don’t let others get in your way to success. Though only one of you will cheat if you have too, morals be damned. You both want your lives to yourself, to make your own path, to be trailblazers in your chosen fields.

That kind of woman doesn’t seem like Jungkook's type.

He needs someone who will follow him, and allow him to lead the nation. Someone who is okay submitting to him and his needs for the good of the people and the betterment of the Western Shores. He needs a politically inclined cheerleader, for lack of better phrasing. And that isn’t Adaline at all…or you, if you're still putting yourself in this conversation, which you’re not.

Also, wasn’t it a rule that princes could only marry princesses? Or was it that nice, genuine people shouldn’t end up with assholes who use and abuse those around them for social status and power? And isn’t that a thing for him too—that he hates when people use him for his name?

So how could he go for her? You can’t fathom a goddamn reason as to why—

Ah…Well.

You can, but you hate it.

Adaline is beautiful, and while no, not a princess, she does have a title the prince can be seen with in public without ridicule, friend or more than. Someone who wouldn’t be looked at like a charity case or a flavour of the week. Someone who’s used to the media. Adaline doesn’t have to hide from them. Isn’t scared to be seen by them with him. It wouldn’t ruin her future. It’ll only add to i—Wait.

Holy shit.

Adaline comes from one of the most influential families on the Eastern Shores. One with a lot of political power. Like, best friends with the Queen of the Eastern Shores, political power. Though she was only ever graced with sons. Adaline’s probably the closest thing she has to a daughter.

A marriage between Jungkook and Adaline could potentially unify the two sides again.

Jungkook and Adaline could re-unite the East and West after centuries of war and separation, and current amicable co-existence.

Now that’s a reason he would date her. to become power couple of the century.

The next step in history.

The whole idea of them makes more and more sense the more you think about it. Adaline, darling of the East marrying the future King of the West. And your stomach curls in on itself.

Just because it makes sense doesn’t mean you have to like it.

And you pray to whatever god or gods there are in this universe that he keeps her away from you and out of your conversations. Jungkook’s relationship isn’t any of your business, nor your interest, but you don’t know how well you’d be able to keep your mouth shut about her if he asks anything.

You know he likes that you’re honest. That you don’t hide things from him others would just to please him. But at what point do you put that aside to keep the peace in an otherwise very comfortable and still blossoming friendship? At what point does honesty become an obstacle rather than a building block?

You know that if Jungkook ever meets Nel and happens not to like him he would keep his mouth shut, mostly. Hopefully. He may give you a hard time but that’s just him. Jungkook knows your relationship is important to you, that it and Nel, make you happy. He would respect that.

So again, who are you to speak ill of the person he’s chosen for himself? Maybe he knows something you don’t, sees something in her that you haven’t.

Just…Why did it have to be Adaline?

He could have anyone, anyone—on campus, in the West, the East, for the love of god, he could have anyone in the entire ass realm he wants! It’s easy to forget when he speaks with his mouth full, dresses in baggy, comfy clothes, and whines about movie choices, but Jungkook is still Prince of the Western Shores.

He’s still the most eligible bachelor on the continent.

Yet somehow he chose the one person you can’t stand to be within 1000 feet of. He chose the one person you never thought he would’ve liked for himself because underneath everything, she is everything he claims to hate.

He chose Adaline Dupree.

So yeah, you wonder why he hid it from you. Why he felt like he couldn’t tell you. Sure, you hated her, but he doesn’t know that. Probably.

Maybe his love life is something he keeps private? Everyone has that right, and maybe that’s what he’s used to doing due to his every choice being splashed on every news and media outlet there is.

You roll your eyes. Merciless vultures.

So maybe he’s not used to sharing this side of himself with others. Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell you anything.

And with all of this chaos now flitting around your brain, you failed to notice the little slice of pain behind your sternum the more they ricochet around up there. You’re hurt.

You didn’t expect it to hurt.

Out of everything you could feel about this: confusion, anger, exasperation, annoyance, you don’t feel any of them. You just feel upset that he didn’t come to you about it. Didn’t feel like he could discuss it with you.

You are the person your friends—old and new—come to talk to. Always have been. You’re the one who has the rational, well thought out advice. The common sense distributor. The one sought out to help, regardless of the situation.

And you love it. You love that you’re able to help your friends. Love that they trust you with such things. That you’re the person they seek assistance and guidance from. The ear they bounce their thoughts off of. You’ve always been told you have ‘knowledge beyond your years’ as your mother says. You take pride in that. It gives your life that much more meaning.

So even though you don’t want to, and know you shouldn’t, because it has nothing to do with you and you know that…you’re taking this as somewhat of a personal blow.

Maybe you’re losing your touch. You hope not.

But, you need to react like you normally would. Like you still hate the prince for how he humiliated Yuri, just like she hates Adaline for you. Solidarity between best friends, even if it’s fake.

Come on YN you got this, you think to yourself.

You [2:40pm]: I almost feel sorry for him. After how he treated you tho? They deserve each other

No they don’t, no they don’t, no they don’t.

He deserves so much better.

SlurryYuri [2:40pm]: I’m just surprised he went for her tbh SlurryYuri [2:41pm]: isnt she like a total bitch? To you at least? SlurryYuri [2:41pm]: like just knowing what I do from the tiny bit of time I spent with him, she doesn’t really seem to be his type

Vindication!

You [2:42pm]: uh yeah, like 100% yes. Shes a rich party girl who doesnt know the word punishment, always gets what she wants, regardless if she works for it or not. And takes it when she especially doesnt deserve it You [2:43pm]: probably explains how she got him 🙄

Vivian pops outside to check in, and takes the couple steps to reach your table, some napkins and a large cup of water in hand.

“Hey! Are you okay? I saw that spit take and one; wow, that was impressive. But two; is everything alright?” she asks, passing you the napkins. The water gets thrown on the wall to wash off the splatter.

You wipe up your chin and remnants of projected hot chocolate on the table.

“Sorry, thank you. Yes, I’m fine,” you lie easily. A little scared of how easy it’s becoming. “I just learned some really shocking news is all. I shouldn’t have read it with a full mouth.”

“Oh! That makes sense. I hope whatever it is turns out fine.”

“Thanks, me too.”

You know Vivian means well, but she doesn’t know that that is the very last thing you want. You want Adaline’s corruptive, cutthroat, cruel nature away from Jungkook.

But is he just Jungkook anymore?

You’ve spent enough time together to consider him a friend, a close friend even. You’ve grown to care for him, platonically, similar to the way you do Yuri. And the fact that you want Adaline as far away from him as she can get so he doesn't go through whatever shit she’ll inevitably get him wrapped up in, definitely says something.

Adaline loves many things—art, fashion, publicity—but the thing she likes better than anything else?

Attention.

She thrives on it. The more eyes on her the better. She’s a ‘there’s no such thing as bad press’ type, and you worry what that means for him.

Especially now that she’s taken them public—because you know it was her that did it, he would have never—and she’s going to be the hottest topic in all of the newest news cycles.

Say they’ve been seeing one another since the beginning of the school year? Just a guess, but a likely correct one—you shiver at the thought. That’s less than seven weeks to get to know one another before camera crews and reporters start breathing down their necks. They’ll ask and comment on everything you thought you might go through at one point. But unlike you, Adaline will face it head on with a smile and win them over. Gladly welcome them with open arms.

Because exactly like Jungkook fears with everyone new, she desires everything a relationship with him would give her.

Status, fame, power, wealth, brand sponsorships, popularity, jealousy, people wishing they could be her. You couldn’t build a better trap to lure her into if you tried.

Jungkook is potentially unknowingly feeding her already enormous ego simply by publicly dating her. And it dawns on you that your classes with her are going to become even more insufferable.

Great.

You don’t even know if she’s going to care that she has him. As wonderful, kind and talented as Jungkook is, you have a very good sense that she’ll be just like rest; happy to receive what he can give her, and not a damn to be given about him.

So now you worry. You worry for him and for his safety and for his feelings.

Because that’s what friends do.

Right?

“Hey.”

You look up to see Jungkook rounding the back corner to the cafe, backpack slung over a shoulder, mask, hat and hoodie all too familiar. You’d be able to spot him a mile away now, it’s all in his posture and eyes.

Maybe he should invest in some sunglasses.

And slouch.

You’re elbows deep in yellow and brown paint from the sunflowers that now fill the canvas in front of you. You’ve been experimenting with texture, oil paint thicker in some places to give off a more 3D effect. Stripes of green carved into the medium by the edge of a long palette knife mimic stems, and fat leaves placed with precision also riddle the cloth.

As he nears, you try your best not to come off as upset, pissed off or worried when you reply.

“Hey,” you fail miserably, sounding exactly like you’re all kinds of upset, and pissed off, and worried.

Shit.

Like always, he notices immediately.

“Everything okay?” he’s taking his spot at the table beside you, the one that seats four, having abandoned his original one weeks ago.

You two both found yourselves here so frequently that over time, he started sitting next to you without asking. Always in the same spots. Always side by side. Him at the closest chair to you, you at the same one you always have.

Sure, you two shared movie nights and fun messages, you talk everyday and pretty much talk about whatever you want. But when it comes to academics, he knows he has to tread water a little differently around you. He can’t constantly start conversations the way he would at movie night when you’re at the greenhouse cafe. You’re here to work and to study, and if he wants to be there too, he has to respect that about you, and know not to take it personally.

So you work together in comfortable silence most of the time, occasionally breaking it to have a conversation, get snacks, or pose for one another’s homework. It’s become another routine you share, an unspoken agreement that when you were both there at the same time, you worked together.

And you haven’t minded since that first time. The one when you decided to say yes to your friendship.

You welcome it. Welcome him. His presence.

Company’s nice to have when it’s wanted.

When it’s him.

And whether you know it or not, you seem to work better when you are in each other's immediate orbit. You work better when he works alongside you, able to focus better due to body doubling and to have a second opinion at the ready when you need it. Just like he worked better when you worked alongside him, a willing model any time he needed, and an open ear when he wanted to work something out.

You two just work. And because of this, he also picks up when something isn’t quite right with the atmosphere you two have created.

Play it off YN.

“Yeah, just focused. Sorry.”

He doesn’t believe you for a second. When you focus you have a very distinct look on your face, eyes clearer, an eyebrow constantly quirked in self reflection, and that isn’t the one you have on right now.

But he lets it slide. For now. Somethings up with you, and he knows better than to push you before you’re ready.

“That’s okay. I’m running in, need anything?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you go back to painting, barely acknowledging him and shutting out the outside world.

Yeah, something’s definitely up.

You’re ignoring him so hard you don’t notice Jungkook lifting your hot chocolate just enough to feel it’s empty.

Vivian’s behind the counter as he enters and takes off his mask to flash her a wide smile.

“Hey Vivian, how are you today?”

She blushes like she does every time he comes in, hands slowing in their task.

“Hey JK, I’m good. You?” He had to ask her about a hundred times to drop the ‘your highnesses,’ ‘you majesty’s,’ and ‘prince’s.’ Telling her it really was okay, and that no, she wasn’t going to get in trouble for it. It took her some time, but eventually she came around and it’s made his experience here so much better. So much more normal.

She’d settled on JK because ‘it makes me feel like I’m listening to what you want while also not feeling guilty and weird about calling you Jungkook without the prince part.’

He could work with that logic.

“I’m alright, could I get my usual and a hot chocolate for YN? With a little extra secret ingredient if you're so inclined?” You shared the not so secret stash secret with Jungkook about a week after you said yes. “She seems upset. Have you noticed anything off lately? Has she said anything to you?”

Jungkook peruses the pastry display while Vivian starts on his drink.

“Not really, she did a wicked spit take earlier about some news her friend told her, but said she was fine, just surprised. Besides that, focused maybe? Or maybe the opposite of that and a little distracted?” She thinks for a second. “Does she have an exam coming up that you know about? She gets a little weird before those.”

He knows exactly what’s meant by that. Witnessed it himself, bunny slippers and all.

But no, you don’t. Your midterms aren’t until the first week of November, nearly two weeks away. You started studying for them last week.

He spots egg tarts in the back corner of the pastry display, hiding. Perfect.

“I don’t think that’s it, but thanks though. I’ll get it out of her eventually, especially if I have one of those egg tarts to butter her up first,” he says in a questioning tone to ask for one while pointing at them.

Vivian smiles a knowing smile. He wants to know what it means because she’s worn it around him for a while now, and he’s half tempted to ask at this point.

“I think that could be arranged.”

Jungkook pays and heads to your tables again. You’re still locked into your own world of colour and canvas. He subtly sets down the hot chocolate and bagged tart so that you won’t notice until you pop the bubble you’re in.

Halfway through a business assignment he hears your surprise. The weird look on your face finally breaking, a grateful one taking its place as you peek at him.

A soft, genuine, “thank you,” finds his ears as your lips meet lid, and you can’t meet his eye. He knows you often forget to drink or eat when you’re in the zone.

Maybe now with a warm drink and some goodies in your belly, you’re willing to talk about it.

“You sure everything’s okay?” he asks again.

Your deep sigh and unfocused gaze says enough to him.

You are willing to talk.

Quietly, almost ashamed sounding, you ask, “Why didn't you tell me about her?”

Her?

Oh.

Oh…

You meant Adaline. Why hadn’t he told you about Adaline.

“Why did I find out an hour ago from Yuri screaming at me through text messages and not from you? Is it something you’re private about? Do you not trust me?”

The truth was that he was hoping to keep it under wraps for a bit longer, actually, hoping you never found out so he wouldn’t have to explain the reason why.

He still doesn’t have too, and he won’t. Not the real reason.

He won’t ruin things. He can’t.

But he also should have known better. Should have known that not telling you would hurt you instead. Of course he trusted you.

You talk everyday, sometimes for hours, sometimes just to check in. You hang out during the week, whether it be at the cafe like you are right now, or for Sunday movie night.

Six weeks isn’t a long time, but it was plenty when he thinks about how much time you two have already spent together, how much you’ve gotten to know one another.

How comfortable you are in each other’s presence.

Six weeks isn’t a long time, but it feels like you’ve always been there with him, listening, cheering, supporting.

Six weeks isn't a long time, and yet it feels like it’s been forever.

Of course you’re hurt he didn’t tell you. So he doesn’t lie to you, but he also doesn’t tell you the full truth.

“Oh…uh, that.” He rubs a hand at the nape of his neck. “That just kind of happened recently actually, like Monday recently. My father’s been really pressuring me to find someone to court,” and I couldn’t go with my first choice. “So I did.”

“And you went with Adaline?” You ask carefully.

“Uh, yeah? Is there something wrong with her?”

Adaline isn’t his first, second or tenth choice. She's his father’s choice. Might as well appease him and at least try with this girl. It’s going…fine, so far.

Adaline wanted to make it social media official as soon as possible, wanted what he could give her, like everyone else. Like he expected. And so he willingly suffered through a photo session where she staged everything to make it look perfectly unposed and natural. Even though none of it was.

She’d told him to put his arms around her waist and kiss her forehead, and it worked. The picture wasn’t bad, they both looked great. But he hated it anyway. It wasn't a spur of the moment decision, or sincere. It wasn’t a picture of two fools drunk on love, wanting to capture something beautiful for their future selves to look back on to reminisce over.

It was an uncomfortable hour and a half of touching and kissing a complete stranger, and it is the complete opposite of what he wants in a relationship.

He wants genuine and carefree and candid. He wants honest, true feelings and social media posts saved for anniversaries and birthdays instead of using them as a mini documentary of every part of his life through pictures.

He wants shitty birthday cakes made from scratch, and blurry polaroid pictures of kisses in the rain to put in his wallet when he’s away from them. He wants silly nicknames and inside jokes no one else will understand.

He wants midnight walks hand in hand under moonlight and quirky habits he picks up from them. He wants pictures of precious moments and holidays celebrated between just the two of you and movie nights under blanket forts with popcorn and hot chocolate and egg tarts.

He wants real.

He wants authentic.

He wants love.

Not some staged artificial bullshit for an online presence that means nothing once you’re dead.

But this is new and exciting for Adaline. He understands that a relationship with him is a very big deal, that she’s not used to it yet, and that it hasn’t been nearly long enough for him to see the true her yet.

It’s only been 44 hours. Not that he’s counting.

So he’s going to give her some time, and have some faith that maybe she shows him that side of herself if it exists. He doesn't think she's going to change all that much for several reasons, the first being her enormous reputation, and the second being that she’s a politician's daughter, but he’s going to at least try. The way he hopes she will.

And if nothing does change, and she stays the exact same, at least she’s pretty enough to distract him.

He knows that’s not the most mature or princely thing to do or think. In fact, he knows it’s quite asshole-ish of him, but if Adaline’s going to openly use him for her own personal gain, why shouldn’t he be able to use her just a little bit too?

She isn’t unfamiliar with political relationships, having been born from one, so he doesn’t think she would be against it either. And it’s not like he’ll be mistreating her, quite the opposite in fact.

He’ll shower her with expensive gifts and happily take however many pictures she wants. He’ll smother her in physical affection and get or do whatever she needs in order to make her happy.

Because as much as she clearly wants this relationship with him for whatever reason, he desperately needs it more with every passing day. He needs somewhere to put everything he’s feeling. And if that happens to be in a beautiful woman his father approves of who he could possibly, eventually grow feelings for? It’s a win-win in his book.

But at the same time, sometimes he really hates the shit he has to navigate in his Royal Life.

While Jungkook is caught in his thought spiral, you bite your tongue. Like actually bite your tongue.

Don’t say shit Y/N.

Don't say anything.

It’s not your business. What they have together and what’s between you and Adaline are completely separate, unrelated things. One’s a rivalry and one's a relationship. Those are not the same.

At. All.

So, still untrusting of your mouth, you shake your head and dodge his question by changing the direction of the conversation.

“Why did you go public so quickly?” you ask, feeling like it’s the safest question you can muster. “It’s literally only been two days.”

He shrugs. “She wanted to, and I didn’t say no.”

“Courseshedid,” you mutter under your breath. That should’ve been red flag number one. Two days? Who goes social media official after two days!?

“What?”

“Nothing,” you try your best to give him the closest thing to a smile you can currently muster, forcibly removing any acid from every word. “I hope she makes you happy.”

He doesn’t tell you she was hand picked by the king for him.

That at twenty-four, he still isn’t pulling all of his own strings. It’s pathetic.

“Me too.”

He hopes she’ll help more than anything. Even if it’s just for a little while. “I’ve never been in a public relationship before. But the kingdom and my father seem to like her, so I’m sure I will too, with time.”

It takes all of your focus not to roll your eyes.

Of course they do. Of course the King already likes her, she’s got the attitude and knowledge for politics, so she’s perfect! Strong potential to be the heartless, ruthless Queen to what you already know will be Jungkook's kind and giving King.

Great! Just great. That’s just…great…

Maybe you’re biased. Maybe there’s something in her that you can’t see because of your past with her.

Maybe they really are perfect for one another and you just refuse to see it. Opposites attract, isn’t that what they say? Well Jungkook and Adaline couldn’t be more opposite of one another.

So you decide that you won’t let your personal feelings get in the way. That you’ll keep the peace and support his choice, regardless of your opinion of her, even if you hate his choice.

And you really hate his choice.

“I have no doubt.”

The seat heater in the car you rented to pick Nel up from the airport keeps your tush toasty while you drive.

Friday night has never felt so exciting!

You can barely sit still, the leg not pressing the pedals won’t stop bouncing and you have to sit on your hands at stop lights to try and keep calm.

God you missed him, it's only been two months since you last saw him, and yet it feels like forever.

You have the piece of printer paper with ‘Smoosh’ printed on it in the biggest font you could have horizontally. It’s something you do every year, and every year it never fails to bring the biggest smile to Nel’s face when you wave it wildly the second you see him.

Pulling up to the terminal you keep your eyes peeled for the first parking spot you can find. Never an easy feat at this particular airport but you manage to find one somewhere in the J lot under section 1, whatever that meant. All you care about right now is that you’re decently close to the doors as you grab your phone, bag, sign, and that you’re perfectly on time.

Entering through sliding doors, you find the waiting area mostly empty, so you pick the best place to sit as you wait for his flight to land: dead center and up front.

You can’t wait. Just a few more minutes and you’ll see him.

You can’t wait. You can’t wait. You can't wait!

Your phone dings and you jump at it, looking for the ‘I’ve landed’ text from Nel, but it’s not from Nel.

It’s from Jungkook.

Me [10:42pm]: See you in a week. I hope you enjoy your time with Nel.

That sounds okay, right? It sounds neutral? Safe?

Like he hasn’t been dreading this week since that day you told him about it?

Jungkook hopes so. Because he wants you to enjoy your week off.

Your week off with Nel.

And not him.

That’s normal, he has to remind himself. That he’s not anyone particularly special to you, just a friend. Not someone you would go out of your way for to spend all your free time with over break. Not even for two hours on Sunday nights.

Just a regular, average, nothing important about him…

Friend.

He doesn’t want to feel like this. Doesn’t want to have all of these… whatever these feelings are, about and for you.

He really doesn’t want to. But more than that, he can’t.

He can’t have any sort of non-platonic feelings for the first person who didn’t give a shit about who he was. For the person who makes him feel more like himself than anyone else.

For the person who has a boyfriend.

For the person who isn’t his girlfriend.

For the person who’s you.

But he can’t fucking help it!

So he’s been shoving them down, down, down. So far down that he’s able to function around you.

Because it’s you.

You’re kind, and caring. Talented, beautiful, giving. Driven, smart. You respect what he asks for and what he wants for himself, not because he's the Prince demanding, but because it's him—because it’s Jungkook—that asks you, and you liste–

No! Stop it. He can’t. He can’t!

Stop, stop, stop—

You have Nel! 5 years in, loving, loyal boyfriend, probably soon to be more after graduation, Nel.

It’s expected that you would spend what little time off you have with the boyfriend you barely get to see, wouldn’t it? Makes sense that every second you have, is saved for him?

For being happy with who makes you happy?

Jungkook wants to see you happy. And Nel makes you happier than he’s ever seen you before, so he can’t be too upset with the guy, even though he wants to be. He wants to hate him. But how could he hate someone that gave you the smile that completely shatters his heart.

Picasso [10:43pm]: Thanks! I will. See you soon😊

With a broken smile, he turns his phone off and puts it in his pocket.

He’s up against a wall, red cup in his hand filled with something that he’s barely touched yet, trying not to be too noticeable.

Adaline’s dragged him to some party on campus he really doesn't care about. But she said it would be good to be seen out together now that things are official.

Out in the open, for everyone to see. For everyone to talk about.

So he went, because she asked him to.

And now he’s regretting it. The music is shit, the people smell and everything he touches is damp or sweaty. This isn’t a part of the university experience he ever intended on participating in, but here he is.

Adaline appears from the crowd, walking over to where he stands, a cup of her own in one hand and the other finding its way to his neck.

One thing Jungkook’s glad for is the alcohol. Something to help his racing thoughts, pounding heart, and roiling gut. Something to drown out the world. Even if he’s only had two gulps so far.

More, then.

Taking a hefty swig he revels in the burn that crawls down his throat. It feels good, it makes him feel less. So he takes another one and another, and then pours his turmoiled feelings about you and Nel into Adaline’s lips. Shoving them down, further and further, until it’s like they were never even there in the first place.

The only thing that's there now is the fire in his stomach, Adaline, and her cherry flavoured lip gloss.

Chapter Six: Eastern Arrivals and Unwanted Doubt

A/N 2: I'm so sorry this took for literal ever. I never intend on taking forever but unfortunately real life gets in the way and I'm left with no creative energy to output writing I'm proud of.

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

<- Back

#reblog #jungkook #jjk #jungkook:series #jungkook:fluff #jungkook:angst #favourites!jjk #re:prince!jjk #re:college!jjk

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dellamortethelesser · 3 days ago

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The Wigmaker Job

Notes and Thoughts - Part 2

pt1 | pt2 | pt3 | pt4 | pt5

Picking back up in the next scene, Lucanis and Illario are exiting the tavern on their way to the contract. Here, they are described as "lean with dark hair and umber eyes". ← THIS MEANS THEY PURPOSELY GAVE MY POOKIE BLUE EYES TO MAKE HIM LOOK MORE EVIL.

(I also forgot to mention in the previous scene they discuss that Illario fastidiously grooms his 5 o'clock shadow so they also took THAT from us. But! Veilguard did give him a huge ass… no, I need his brown eyes back).

"Illario was all smiles. His was a calculated handsomeness. From his smooth skin to his perfect, white teeth, everything was contrived to be enticing". ← insane thing to say i think what did caterina do to influence that so strongly. like yes, lucanis is a mage-killer and that's certainly a Niche, but let's not pretend that Illario isn't filling a different sort of niche. both of them have been trained to be more valuable Alive than Dead.

"As they walked through the crowd, he basked in the appreciative glances he received," ← unsure whether this is omniscient on part of the author or intended to be directly lucanis's pov. this specific passage i've never been able to figure it out. if it's lucanis's pov though, i would wonder if that 'basking' isn't just… a front.

I have to assume this passage is somewhat omniscient because it goes on to say that "… while Lucanis stared ahead, focused and intense. He was the kind of man you couldn't look away from—until he looked at you." ← i have to assume this is all referring to Lucanis? if so? because if it is lucanis's pov why would he… idk. 'the kind of man you couldn't look away from' could still refer to illario? idk. it's a really hard passage for me to parse i feel stupid. debate in the reblogs

This whole next part of the story makes me insane because it's just further emphasizing my point that Lucanis gives absolutely no thought to Illario as an equal working with him on this contract—THAT HE ASKED ILLARIO TO BE HERE FOR. i'll try to break this down but i recommend just reading along in your own copy alsfjk

"So what's the plan? Now that Ambrose knows we're coming" / "We were never going through the front door." ← Illario is asking here, now that there's proof the Venatori know the Crows are after them, what the new plan is. he is only JUST NOW finding out that Lucanis never HAD a plan that didn't account for this? again i'm not sure how lucanis "knew" unless it's supposed to make him out to be the better assassin, but it reads as though he was purposefully keeping Illario in the dark.

hang on let me just directly quote this next part

"I bought THIS—" Illario gestured towards his tunic. "Because YOU said we were dispatching Tevinter's 'premiere' wigmaker at an exclusive party. Emphasis on exclusive." "Uh-huh." "It was a rush order. We were with the tailor for hours." "I recall." "Why let me go through the motions of purchasing formal wear for an event we're not actually attending?" "I know how much you enjoy dressing up," Lucanis goaded and ducked under a pointed archway.

But. You are attending this event. Crucially you are in fact both attending this event and do need Illario to dress the part to get YOU where YOU need to be. Why are you goading him on like this?!

You're both on the way to this contract—and Lucanis is leading him through a back entrance, btw, AND THE FACT THAT ILLARIO DOESN'T ALREADY KNOW THAT TELLS ME THAT LUCANIS DIDN'T TELL HIM THAT PART OF THE PLAN EITHER—so why are you doing this?!

Lucanis why are you fucking with him like this on purpose? THERE'S NO REAL REASON GIVEN IN HIS NARRATIVE SO I HAVE TO EXTRAPOLATE THAT THIS IS JUST NORMAL FOR THEM. WHICH ISN'T NORMAL

quick interlude to add that Lucanis's 'bleeding heart' sympathies are here from the jump; he is aware of the cultural importance of the vhenedahl, and remarks that the magisters trying to make a statue to keep their slaves in line had the opposite effect.

Again Lucanis reveals some way into the passageways they're using—that Illario didn't know about on both accounts—and is SMUG ABOUT IT. HE TOSSES ILLARIO A SMUG LOOK OVER HIS SHOULDERS.

"I wouldn't complain if you filled me in," he grumbled. "Yes, you would." "As much," Illario conceded. "I wouldn't complain as much."

WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN BY THIS LUCANIS. The dynamic between them is just consistently reinforcing the idea that wherever Lucanis goes, Illario is expected to follow, unwaveringly, unquestioningly, and to be quite honest i would be driven fucking insane.

We're only so many pages in and there is a very clear way that Lucanis treats Illario just in the context of working CONTRACTS together, and that way is… not very good! YOU INVITED HIM HERE. WHY ARE YOU KEEPING HIM IN THE DARK?

I say this like I don't understand but a lot of people have rightly pointed out that this is their 'normal'. This is learned behavior, a learned dynamic, and I do believe Caterina is partly responsible for fostering it by showing such clear favoritism to Lucanis and likely giving him behavior to model.

Which goes back to my previous question of… why? If you're not going to name an heir and want this to be a winner takes it all relationship, why show such clear favoritism?! THESE ARE YOUR LAST TWO LIVING RELATIVES, CATERINA.

Back to the book. Lucanis's elf contact greets him with "Master Dellamorte". Cool! When she looks for an introduction, though, it is Illario that butts in with "Master Dellamorte the Lesser". ← hi my love. why did you do this? well because it reinforces the same shit we've been seeing the whole time. and calls back to how he already referred to lucanis as 'the great' in their first scene together.

"My cousin," Lucanis clarified. ← no defense or correction? fine maybe not the time or place. one of the more neutral statements that Lucanis has said to him but he's damned by faint praise and the fact there is no INNER NARRATIVE QUESTIONING ILLARIO'S ANSWER MEANS THIS IS ALSO ASSUMED TO BE NORMAL.

Heading up the passage. It's magic. the room spins

"Lucanis bit back a laugh as Illario held out an arm to steady himself." ← WHY. why is this funny to you. okay now im sounding like i'm seething at lucanis which i kind of am BUT TRUST I STILL LOVE HIM

THIS DYNAMIC IS JUST INSANE TO ME. okay anyways next bit. i'm covering one more scene and then will do another post for part 3. together we can work through this story a few pages every day. I'm gonna break up this last bit in some chunks

"You've made friends." / "You would too, if you ever left Treviso." / "I'm here now, aren't I?" ← Illario was trying to be nice. Lucanis immediately takes a shot at the fact that Illario stays in Treviso (are we implying here that Illario doesn't take jobs? Doesn't work?) and Illario reminds him that HE CAME TO VYRANTIUM FOR LUCANIS. He's here for you!

"Seriously, though, what is this place?" "A perk. Given by our mysterious benefactor." Lucanis quickened his pace, hoping to leave the answer at that. Illario did not take the hint. "Speaking of, I have some questions about him… her… them?"

1) diversity win

2) AGAIN. Illario is being kept in the dark about things and Lucanis is intentionally not sharing them. WHY? We are never given a reason WHY from Lucanis. Just that he doesn't want to share anything with Illario—ostensibly about their client but ABOUT THE WHOLE CONTRACT IS WHAT THE NARRATIVE SHOWS.

"Oh, come on," Illario urged, matching Lucanis's pace. "When have we ever taken on an anonymous client?" "Since someone could put tangible stock in the phrase 'Silence is golden'." "You're not the least bit curious?" Lucanis exhaled through his nose. "If someone wants to pay me top coin to kill a bunch of racist blood mages—who have it coming—I'm not going to complain."

again we see Lucanis's sympathies coming to light. these are not bad feelings to have obviously we should hate racists. but they are assassins paid to kill and not get emotionally entangled in the job which Lucanis consistently does in this short story.

additionally. again. the way he talks to illario. i just. can it be stated enough at any point.

Quotes are either paraphrased or taken directly from The Wigmaker Job, written by Courtney Woods.

#dragon age #the wigmaker job #tevinter nights #dragon age analysis #dragon age meta #long post #my analysis #illario dellamorte #lucanis dellamorte #caterina dellamorte #house dellamorte (meta)

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ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit · 3 days ago

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You break down into tears and tell them: "It’s been so long since I’ve felt this happy, I think I just got overwhelmed. You make me happy.”

Heartslabyul dorm; Savanaclaw dorm; Octavinelle dorm; Scarabia dorm (here); Pomefiore Dorm; Ignihyde Dorm; Diasomnia Dorm

Kalim Al Asim – It's a standard party; Jamil even has a box of pre-made decor made for such impromptu celebrations at this point. You’ve drank this before, danced with him before, even away from everyone else. When you separate after the song ends, trying to subtly leave the room, you don’t get too far.

He feels conflicted as you explain. He knows you, he knows it has nothing to do with his riches, or the experiences he can give you. You’ve even made it a point to deny gifts, just to prove that you value him and his friendship, not his wealth. But him, just him, makes you happy? You should be happy all the time. If anyone has deserved it in this entire campus, it’s the one that gives and gives when they have nothing.

He hugs you, a hand in your hair and another rubbing your back, the two of you hidden behind the curtained pillar of the pangola.

“Look at me.” He commands, wiping the tears from your eyes. You feel the pressure drop as a sprinkle starts around you. “One day, your joys will be as countless as the raindrops from the sky. I will ensure it.”

Jamil may scold him later, but it’s worth it to see you laugh and spin in the puddles with him, the rest of the dorm, the campus, the world, entirely gone. Just you, him, and all the joy that rains down.

(Jamil in fact only lightly scolds him, but simply because he knows that Kalim does it to hide his own tears. It rained often, after his overblot.)

Jamil Viper – He rarely leaves Kalim, but he does trust Lilia to keep him safe long enough to go into town. The local festival holds all sorts of things, but especially a dance floor for amateurs to challenge each other.

He is definitely more daring here, pulling you onto the rough hewn stage for a slower song that you two have practiced before. When you hide your face into his shoulder, he almost pulls you away completely. But your words strike him still. Him. What do you mean him?

You can’t fully read his face, but he tucks your face back into your neck, pulling you impossibly closer until you two are barely swaying. Just hugging in the middle of a dance floor made of two by fours and sanded by spinning shoes.

“One day, we will get out of Night Raven” he mutters, “And I will show you the world.”

#twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst #Kalim Al Asim #Jamil Viper #twst Kalim #twst Jamil #twst Yuu #twst x reader #twst x yuu

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getaapologist · 3 days ago

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The Tension and the Terror............Part XV

Pairing: Emperor Geta x OFC (extremely loosely, character is named but otherwise not described besides hair length)

Summary: The chaos surrounding the death of Macrinus keeps Letha and Geta apart much longer than either of them expected. Geta has an urgent question for Letha.

Warnings: make-up sex, and a shitty understanding of ancient Roman procedures around rule, 18+ only.

Word Count: 3.6k

Part 15 of 15!

[ Part XIV ]

Series Masterlist

A/N: I would like to preface this by saying thank you for reading this self-indulgent slop. I hope you got some small amount of enjoyment out of it. Your comments along the way kept me engaged enough to actually finish this. It's the first thing I've ever started writing that I actually feel like I finished. There's so much I could've added to this post-reunion that this would've never been done. I could always embellish at a later date if anyone wanted it. I'm also a bit sad to finish this because I don't have anything to look forward to now. Thank you for your time and attention. It means a lot.

Also, mea lux is 'my light' I believe.

Almost two weeks passed before Letha laid eyes on Geta again.

It was prevented by a combination of things. There had been so much to deal with after the incident in the gardens. Geta had been embroiled in meetings, debating things Letha wasn’t privy to. There was a ceremony for Ancus, to honor him for his efforts to protect his Emperors. And at every party, everyone was so desperate to show face to their Emperors, to remind them of their loyalty in wake of the exposure of Macrinus’s plot.

Though she wasn’t invited to any official meetings or ceremonies, there were situations where she could’ve sought Geta out at these fetes and events. But she didn’t. She was scared to have that conversation that needed to happen.

She knew she was still treated as a guest in the palace. More like a fixture, really, available to distract Caracalla whenever the burden of rule grew too tiresome with more poetry, read under the shade of a tree in the gardens, Ancus always nearby. But aside from that, she felt quite restless.

It’s not as if she expected things to go back to how they were, but she didn’t think it would be this hard to put her thoughts together. Leaving the gardens that evening, neck still sore, she was imagining how she’d look over at Geta the next morning and fervently apologize, for all of it. She’d tell him she would understand if he sent her away, and he would assure her that he wouldn’t dream of it.

But the next morning she couldn’t leave her bed, paralyzed by this new fear. She’d gotten a chance to see what her relationship with Geta could be, she didn’t know what she would do if it was not that. And the possibilities he’d promised her most certainly couldn’t and wouldn’t happen anymore. She stewed in the hesitance, the uncertainty, until she became convinced that it absolutely would be different. No matter what different meant, she was sure it wouldn’t be good.

And so it continued, Letha skipping mealtimes that used to be routine, bumping into servants gossiping on her way into the kitchens to eat. Occasionally she heard her name on their tongues, her appearance causing them to freeze as if Letha were Medusa herself. Not wanting to make a scene, she’d just duck right back out, resolving to return later.

Caracalla assured her his brother was just being kept very, very busy in the wake of the subterfuge and death of Macrinus, but she couldn’t help but feel like it was a little intentional.

What did you expect, honestly?

She didn’t know why she was still allowed to wander the palace, as if she were back to being a guest. There were no guards posted outside her room, and for the last week she spent her evenings in the gardens, observing the moon, asking no one in particular what happens next.

She wasn’t naive, she knew Tegula didn’t trust her. And nothing spread faster than a salacious rumor. They weren’t so foolish as to speak poorly of their Emperor, so they resorted to tarnishing her reputation instead. She was a witch, had steered Macrinus to his end, was desperate to attach herself to the divinity the Emperors were entitled to.

It was ridiculous. If she had such powers, she sure wouldn’t have suffered all this.

It was all just more fuel for her suppositions, perpetuating her unhappy cycle until she felt like it would be better if she just snuck out one night. She could become a ghost story. But against all odds, she still carried hope that the next day would be different.

As for Geta, well, Geta was trying to prevent an economic collapse. Some part of him thought Letha might think poorly of him if he let the empire fall around them because he would rather be locked up in his rooms, curled up in her. Because that was what he wanted. But he had a duty, a responsibility to steer this monstrous empire in a direction he could have heirs in. Perhaps the danger had put things into perspective.

Listening to the senators describe just how involved Macrinus had been in arming their voracious armies became more and more painful as they dove into the minutiae of complex accounts and processes he never bothered to pay attention to before. It was overwhelming. But he knew their efforts were working. Still, there were moments where he’d trade it all for those eyes on him again.

What little free time he had was spent trying to avoid Letha, because he needed hours, days, uninterrupted, for him to spill his heart to her. A few minutes here and there wouldn’t be enough to relay any of the complex emotions he felt. He couldn’t avoid her forever, though, because there was a certain conversation that had to happen. He needed to know where he stood with her before he picked a particular path to tread down.

So that was why he stalked the gardens that evening, waiting for her to appear for her nightly stargazing. And as he watched her spread out the emerald-dyed linen on the grass, he felt calm. Almost peaceful. He let himself forget the weight of all that had happened, the guilt, too. Everything they’d all been through.

Well, not everything.

“You should have run far away from here,” Geta spoke, disturbing her peace.

Letha looked over her shoulder, her breath held in her lungs as she appraised him. It almost felt like the first time. The first time she saw him and admitted against her better judgment that he was beautiful.

The moonlight glinted off the laurels and the golden chestplate he still wore, though the ceremony had long been over. His hair was shiny, neat, framing his fair face. His deep, dark eyes, still lined in crimson, were locked on her.

He looked close to divine standing there in the golden armor, easily one of the most opulent things she’d ever seen. He somehow looked taller, broader, in the armor. Untouchable, too.

It was so late in the evening, he should’ve changed. He should be in bed. Anywhere but here.

No more hiding.

“I was locked in a cell, I wasn’t running anywhere.”

He surprised her by sitting beside her on the blanket, the ceremonial armor quite uncomfortable to lay down in. He kept his arms slung around his knees, the bindings of the tall sandals flexing over his shins as he joined her in staring up at the large moon.

“What about after?” After Macrinus. “You’ve had no chaperone for well over a week now.”

Letha felt her stomach twist. “I’ve thought about it.”

“But?” Geta supplied, turning his head away from the splendor of the night sky to peer down at her where she laid out beside him. A challenger to the celestial might hanging above.

“You know there would be no point.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I do?”

She rolled her eyes, a treasonous activity if done by any other, but it filled Geta with warmth, bringing the beginnings of a smile to his lips. It all felt so familiar.

“There’s something that is keeping me here. Besides the fact I wouldn’t last a day out there with nowhere to go.”

“I dared to hope,” he admitted, taking her own admission and shoving it into the cracks that were slowly mending, a makeshift mortar.

She looked over at him, a line forming between her brows as she studied him, thinking very hard about what to say next. He reached down with a finger, gently pressing at the center of her brows, pushing away the line.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, the pressure of his closeness becoming overwhelming.

“No,” he shook his head, moving his finger lower to press to her lips, silencing any further unnecessary apologies. “It is forgiven.”

Letha felt relief, could feel a tear forming at the corner of her eye. But she didn’t want to cry, not now. She recalled her apology muttered into his hair that day. He’d told her ‘no’ then too.

“Do you still care for me?” he asked, his voice low.

“Of course I do,” she whispered, feeling the tear slide down the side of her face.

He noticed it, moving his fingertip to wipe away the trail before resting his hand on the ground beside her head. He licked his lips, staring at her, all his weight bearing down, as if daring himself to collapse onto her.

As much as he might have enjoyed frolicking beneath the stars, removing this armor was not a graceful job, even for two.

“I want to show you something.” He pushed off the ground and sat up, the haze of him dispersed. She made herself sit up, kept her eyes on him as he stood up. He could feel a swarm of bees in his stomach moving angrily as he held a hand out for her to help her to her feet.

There was a split second of indecision and he nearly faltered, but her tight grip on his hand was a balm, immediately settling his nerves. As she leaned down to gather up the blanket, he tugged her hand, urging her to leave it.

Geta lifted the small chest off his desk and carried it over to where Letha sat on the side of the chaise in his room. It sank into the plush seat and she looked up at him, surprised.

“It’s quite heavy.”

“I can manage just fine,” he smiled, his teasing tone returning.

It was so easy to get caught up in his magnetism. She wondered if he knew he possessed such a thing.

“Go on,” he urged. “Open it.”

She obeyed, pushing up the lid, exposing a rich ruby interior, the box created to house this one ornate bauble. Laurels, golden and sparkling. There were small, dazzling red gems hidden among the leaves here and there.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, reaching in to run a finger along one of the gilded leaves. “Seems a bit small for you,” she admitted.

“It is,” he confirmed.

“Well I think Caracalla will love it,” she smiled, lowering the lid. “It’s a thoughtful gift.”

Geta reached down, pulling it back open. There was a look in her eyes that gave him pause, all the smiles and teasing forgotten. As if she knew already what he was about to say. To ask.

“It’s not for my brother.”

His words sent an icy chill down the center of her back, forcing her to sit up a bit straighter. He was already moving away, pacing.

“I have been busy, Letha,” he admitted. “I’ve spent more time with the senators than I can possibly stand. And in exchange for those long hours, I got this.”

“Geta, I—”

“Don’t feel like you need to say yes right now. Just promise me you will think on it. I know these last couple of weeks have been difficult, we’ve had a hell of a time trying to navigate—”

Letha stood and walked over to him as he rambled. She reached up and curled her fingers around the collar of the chestplate, pulling him down by it, pressing her lips to his.

Geta recognized the action immediately, bringing one of his hands up to cover hers where she held the armor, moaning against her lips. He pulled her in by the small of her back with his free hand. Her necklace clattered against the metal plate until it was muffled by the press of her against him.

He could not get near enough air into his lungs. He felt dizzy, incoherent, his blood at once diluted but also thickened, leaving his limbs feeling heavy with a honeyed sludge passing through his veins. The pressure of her hauling him down to her eager mouth by the bronze plate persisted in his brain, in his gut, and he suspected he would relive it for the rest of time.

“Letha,” he breathed, his palm pressing to her heated cheek. “You can take time,” he offered, though he would be lying if he said he was satisfied with this and nothing more.

“I’ve taken it,” she replied quickly, releasing the armor.

Before the dissatisfaction crept in, he felt her fingers at his side, brushing the underside of his arm that he immediately lifted. She worked at the buckle, pulling the leather free before moving down to the woven golden string keeping both halves together.

Once his brain caught up to hers, he pulled at the cords holding the pauldrons over his shoulders, the both of them picking up speed as an unspoken sense of urgency grew in the silence. It all hit the floor with a loud clattering, the pteruges joining it not long after.

Free from the weight of the heavy armor, Geta reached for Letha’s neck, pulling her into him, groaning against her lips as he attempted to make up for lost time.

As he held her, he realized she was working herself out of her dress. It was bunched up on her shoulders by the time he looked down. The next chance she got, the two of them needing air, she threw it off over her head.

“I would have gotten to that,” he breathed, allowing himself to look her over.

“Like I said, I’ve taken it.” she spoke with intention. He felt it low in his belly.

She got to spend only a moment more on her feet before he collected her in his arms and carried her to the bed. She let out a laugh as she sank into the plush arrangement of silks and pillows. He stared down at her, feeling that blooming of warmth in his chest that only she gave him.

“What are you waiting for?”

As the words left her lips, Geta threw off the white tunic and joined her, crawling up her body to seal his lips to hers, finally allowing the weight of him to press her down into the bed. He had missed this. Her skin, already hot beneath his hands, her movements only drawing him in further, seeking his touch, his lips.

It had been a long couple of weeks.

He felt her bring a leg up around his hip and he reached for it, fingers digging into her thigh as he rutted against her. The ragged moan that left his throat said more about his desperation than anything else.

The tension in his arm trying to hold him up off of her was too much to ignore. He turned onto his side, clinging to her thigh, slowly bringing her with him until he was on his back. As she settled in this new position, she looked down where they met, a bashful smile on her face.

He couldn’t deny the wonder that overtook him at the sight of her above him, the way her mussed hair hung around her face, a few strands now loose. She was radiant, even in the night. Her nervous smile took hold in his chest, and he knew then that he would make it his goal to continue to find ways to draw that same smile from her.

“I missed you,” she admitted, eyes cast down to the expanse of his torso beneath her hands. “I thought we might never…”

“Letha, you possess me.” Her eyes widened, her body frozen in his hands. “I think that was why it hurt so much to be separated from you.” He shifted his hips, forcing heat into her cheeks. “And I owe you an apology.”

“It is forgiven,” she insisted.

He shot her a look. “I could have lost you. It was cruel and impulsive.”

“We are fortunate your brother had the good sense to intervene, then.”

“Please, do not speak of my brother right now,” he pleaded, squeezing her thighs.

She laughed at him, covering his hands with hers. “Let me distract you,” she offered, bringing his hands up higher, his fingers skimming her belly before she pressed his palms into her breasts.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, his hands squeezing her soft skin.

She ground herself down on him, using him, the sight filling him with desire for her. How he ever got pleasure from anyone else, he could never know. This was all he ever needed. He could only thank the gods, the fates, whoever brought her to him.

She surprised him as she swung her leg over him, leaving him there in the bed, a pathetic whine leaving his throat as the air hit his slick-wet cock.

Letha felt a bit unsteady on her feet as she walked through his room. She was ready to show him that she would take on the mantle, the responsibility of keeping him sated and happy.

Possessed him? She would never get over it.

She found the chest and lifted the lid, reaching down for the delicate crown. Even in the dim light it sparkled. Her prize in hand, she set it on her head and nearly sprinted back to Geta.

He still laid in the middle of his bed, a vision of long limbs and pale flesh. At the sound of her feet padding on the floor he craned his neck, his large brown eyes passing over her, lingering on her head, where the crown sat precariously.

His full lips parted in a grin. “Eager to fulfill your duty, Empress?” he questioned, his voice low with desire. He held his hands out for her, helping her return to her place astride his hips.

“Do you like it?” she asked a bit bashfully, her hands leaving his to steady the crown in her hair.

He let out a deep breath. “Mea lux,” he smiled, reaching up to pull her down to his chest, “you spoil me.” He stole a kiss from her lips before he reached up to adjust the crown so it would sit more securely on her head. She leaned into every touch, relishing the sensation of his large hands on her skin, skimming, gripping, squeezing.

She was so overwhelmed by him that she didn’t notice him preparing to shove into her, her only warning a quick swipe of him through her slick. They let out matching sighs as he filled her, like this was all they needed. Letha sat up, a hand pressed against his abdomen for support as she reacclimated to him.

“W-What exactly are the duties of an Empress, Geta?” she asked. His hips snapping up forcing a wanton moan to leave her lips.

His flush extended from his face and ears down to his chest. “Besides the obvious?”

She nodded, shifting her hips, moving on instinct, eager for relief.

He grunted, letting his head fall back. “Well,” he began, bucking his own hips up slightly to reward her. “You will sit with me in all the boring meetings. We will suffer together.”

“Mhmm,” she moaned, nodding. “I can do that.”

“You will advise me, keep me in line,” he grunted. “Tell me when I’m being a fool.”

“I will relish every chance I get,” she grinned, chasing her pleasure.

“Don’t look so excited,” he chuckled, biting his lip.

She felt her thighs burning, but she didn’t dare stop, the coil pulling ever tighter. “What else?”

“You will guard my heart, Letha,” he breathed, his eyes meeting hers.

Her hips stilled.

Geta flipped them, bringing his face down to hers. She ran her hands up his sides, over his shoulders, tangling in his hair as he kissed her. She relaxed beneath him, her legs wrapping around his hips as he drove into her at a steady pace.

“Can you do that?” he asked, meeting her eyes.

“Haven’t I been already?”

He blinked down at her, absorbing her words. “I love you.”

“I love you,” she echoed, pulling his face down to hers.

In the kiss, he quickened his pace. She felt like she was falling apart in his hands, unable to form more words. He reached down between them, his fingers finding home in the apex of her thighs, his nose brushing against hers as he urged her to her release.

She clung to him desperately, choked gasps leaving her throat as he pressed his lips against it. She clenched around him, the coil finally snapping and giving way for her hard-earned release. He pushed her through it, her hands squeezing his hips in an effort to slow him down, too sensitive.

He sat up, pulling her to him by her hips, grunting as he pounded into her.

“Is giving you an heir part of my duties as well?”

He laughed. “Not a requirement, but–” He cut himself off, burying himself in her as he fell on top of her, pulsing into her. “–a perk.”

He settled on top of her, his lips pressing to hers before he buried his face in the side of her neck. She held him close, running fingers up and down his back, enjoying the warmth of him despite all the sweat.

“I would stay like this forever,” she sighed, trying to fight off the exhaustion she felt. The last thing she wanted to do was sleep now that she had him back.

“I have no pressing business for two days, mea lux. You’re not leaving this room,” he spoke into her skin. “And when we do, we will be wed.”

She felt nervous, but optimistic. “Should we not have waited until after for this then?”

He lifted his head, his warm eyes settling on hers. Full of love and mirth. “Oh, no, dear Letha. I believe you said you have already taken your time to think,” he winked, “and I would not deprive my Empress of anything.”

[ fin ]

Thank you for reading!

#emperor geta x ofc #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta #gladiator ii x reader #joseph quinn x reader #gladiator 2 x reader

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