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musedblues · 6 months ago

Text

AMORE ~ FATI (part 1)

a/n: wait until the movie? nah. haven't stopped thinking about this freaky fucker since the trailer dropped! eat up, babes. also the horny police called and there is a warrant out for my arrest.

description: after winding up in a crime related to the royals, geta strikes up a deal with you.

warnings: down right hoe shit, sexual descriptions, gruesome descriptions, minimal historical research/ distant memories from high school test, cliff hanger. MINORS DNI

Part 1 of 2 (at least)

///

The afternoon was like any other, the day your life changed. You awoke to an empty home, gathered your cart of crafts, and headed to the stalls. You sold your paintings there and begged the clouds to cover the swelter of the sun.

For your landscape art, you accepted coin. You accepted food. You accepted a jeweled ring that afternoon, just as well. An exchange like it wasn't out of the ordinary. You pawned the adornment for cash that evening, and made the trek back home. With plans to paint pictures into the night, to sell off the next day.

Your home was quaint, once big enough for two, now only you haunted the halls. The man you'd once been forced to marry had been dead for many months now, and a certain freedom was found in his absence. But a certain monotony about your routine seemed to predetermine the days ahead as far as you could see them. So, you painted.

As you fiddled with brushes and stained your grey dress with speckles of deep amber, a bursting knock came across your door. The guest gave you no time to greet them before turning into an intruder. Two royal guards burst into your home, shouting and grabbing you and dragging you away. All so quickly.

You went fighting. You cursed as they held you in a carriage. You demanded their silence broken. But they remained stone faced as you begged to know why you'd been abducted from your home.

Your captors rode into the city, past the colosseum, right through the gates that led to the home of the reigning family. Your heart hammered in fear, knowing what you knew about the rulers. Caracalla and Geta had only just taken over the reign of their father, their mother looming near, picking sides; as you understood. Since the change in leadership, Rome hadn't suffered en mass. But a growing dread hung heavy over the population, knowing the brothers were struggling to join together in power. Knowing their clash divided not only their power, but all of Rome.

You were grabbed at once more, forced out of the carriage and into the great hall of the estate. Gold and red statues lined the entrance. A plum rug stretched before your feet, a welcoming cushion as the rest of your senses were drowned by harshness. Before you, pacing near his throne, Geta waited.

You'd seen him and his brother before, trailing behind their father at rallies. Lingering near the stands at games. You'd always let your gaze settle on Geta, if ever you'd seen him. You'd always been drawn to gawk at the trimness of his figure. The enigmatic expressions he would pull. The presence he commanded. He was easy to admire, from afar. And the towns ladies often gossiped of how alluring he could be up close, if they were lucky enough to be invited to do so. No one spoke as much of Caracalla. In his name, fear and loathing often followed.

With a glare in your direction, Geta ceased pacing. He nodded toward his guards to relinquish their hold on you.

"What is all this?" You demanded, refusing to bow or humble yourself before this ruler in anyway. How could you dare offer up respect when little to none had been offered to you? Geta seemed taken aback, for a flash. His brows furrowed and his lips parted in shock, at your boldness. But then a grin flickered across his lips and his pacing started up once more.

"You're in possession of something of mine, no?" Geta alluded. Want as you might've to argue, to proclaim your innocence, you were too baffled. What could he possibly be on about?

"You were seen taking a ring as payment today, at your stall." Geta boomed, voice filling the room, echoing off the tall painted ceilings. He started into a story, then, that made things clearer. You learned that ring was a family heirloom, stolen by a servant only one night ago. That he'd sold it to a carriage driver for freedom. You learned that servant had been slain. But the ring was still gone. And you were the last person seen with the distinct bluish jewel in your palm. There were many a shopper along the street market this morning. Several were looking into your stall as you accepted the ring for payment. You couldn't deny the action. But you didn't have it any longer, anyhow.

"I exchanged it for money. With the sellers near the river." You decidedly conceded. "I've got nothing more to do with this now release me." Your voice shook, out of fear for your fate, and anger for your circumstance.

"Names." Geta stalled his meander, a few steps away from you. His dark eyes had cast across your figure before boring right into yours. You couldn't look right at him without feeling a shiver up your spine. And you were not about to let on that Geta had this effect on you. So, you cast your gaze to the hands at his sides, and scoffed at what you saw.

"Why? Are the rings already on your fingers not good enough? You cannot be allowed to want for what you don't have, if you're in possession of more than enough already."

"What's mine is mine! No one else's." Geta yelled, keeping his eye's boring into yours. His voice shook through the halls, and fueled your rage further. Your rage for your circumstance, and for that of this nation.

"Your greed shall poison this empire." You spat at the man.

"An empire I was born to rule cannot be soured, destiny has been at work since my conception and my father's before me." Geta grinned, an all-knowing sort of smile that was meant to belittle you, you were certain. But you couldn't be made to feel so worthless.

"We are all born to die, your highness."

"Your opposition will result in bleakness if you do not answer my call for this information. Give me their names." Geta shouted, still inches from you. Geta was giving you a chance to answer. And that shocked you. You voiced your opposition only because you thought you were surely moments away from being killed, and refused to die without standing your ground. But here you still stood. Geta was letting you.

As taken aback by his patience as you were, his arrogance and demanding shouts were only deepening your desire to withhold. To stand resolute. Who were you to ruin some poor people's lives over a bit of jewelry? Your silence was deafening, each passing moment tensing at Geta's shoulders. You watched his jaw clench, you watched his eye's dance between your own. You smiled.

"Get her out of my sight." Geta hissed, waving his men to capture you once more. You rolled your eyes as they grabbed at you. "Keep her in the cellar until she starts talking. Do not, however... take drastic measures."

You shot a perplexed frown the rulers way as he shook his head in your direction. A scowl turned Geta's lips down. But as he watched you begin to growl in unwillingness to go, his smile curled to life.

"And what of you? What punishments are you allotted?" You yelled as the guards dragged you away. Geta kept his furrowed smirk pointed at you, a puzzled sparkle in his eye.

///

The cellar smelled damp as it felt, your feet squelching along the dirt paths. You'd been taken past a row of prisoners, all in various stages of wither. You closed your eyes too them, offering silent prayers for their fates in passing.

"In you go," A guard shoved you toward the back of a small cell, chuckling as he locked the barred off door. "When you're ready to talk, we just might be around to listen. Let's hope we don't forget about you all the way over in this corner."

How had you ended up here? Hours ago, you'd been at peace in your quiet cottage, paint brush in hand. Now you sat on a wooden bench, senses filled with cold. How were the gods so cruel? Why did you have to accept that stupid ring? Why didn't you admire it longer? Maybe you would've found evidence of its owner, somehow, in the royal gleam of the thing. Maybe you could have returned it with honor, the promise of your home awaiting you. But none of that was happening. Now, you were unsure of everything. But you weren't going to go down without a fight. You weren't going to rat out the innocent fellow you pawned with, for simply surviving another day of this confounding life. You weren't eager to play into the rulers demands for more, as if he didn't have enough. As if he deserved to be granted assurance when himself and his brother offered Rome none.

Hours must've passed. Guards floated by time and again, jeering at you through the bars of your cell. As they passed you by, the voices grew louder yet, giving other prisoners hell. You heard shouts and screams. You heard begging for torture to cease. You heard the stabbing of flesh and the gurgle of blood. You heard the quiet from your own cell. Why were you being spared of such treatment? Why was your confinement different from the others?

As you began to question your own sanity, and the fate the gods had in store for you, a guard was passing by your cell once more. He stopped there, jamming a key into the lock. This was it. Your turn had come. You braced to be berated as the man reached in and yanked you to stand. The guard demanded you to follow as he dragged you through the cellar the same way you'd come in.

Suddenly you were in the great hall again. The purple carpet like clouds under your step. There were servants arranging decor as if an event were to be taking place soon. Your observation of the hall was short lived as the single guard dragged you up a marble staircase. The home was vast, and full of well painted statues and portraits and windows. The sun was long gone from the sky. It had to be later than midnight. As you soaked up your surroundings and let your imagination run wild, you tried not to worry how you'd be executed. You tried to remind yourself that death waited for no one. You tried to remember the last picture you'd been painting, a field of sheep under a setting sun.

Your captor stalled before a great carved door, twisting the handle. Your captor dragged you inside.

Candles lit a room with a bed in the middle, the biggest you'd ever seen. The amber glow of the space was welcoming, despite the terror that resided about your situation. Beyond the bed was a table full of wine, bottles of all sort decorated the clothed stand. Before the table, was Geta. His slump on a stool shifted when he saw you. Moving to stand, the man dressed more scarcely than before was slow to approach you. His expression unreadable.

"Leave us." He demanded, pointing the guard to exit the room. The man's parting left chills in his wake. What was to become of you now? What was this all about?

Geta did not stay still at your front. He instead let his head roll from one side to the other as his pace turned back toward the cloth covered table. Among the bottles of wine were a scattered few chalices. He filled one with a drink. And then another.

"We caught the carriage driver who initially accepted the ring." Geta announced, back toward you all the while. You admired the tone of his shoulders, as one was left uncovered by his robe. The cloth stayed tied among his waist. "We also captured the man you pawned the ring off to. We have the ring." Geta continued, bringing both cups of wine over to where you stood. Ah, so poison was to be your execution?

Accepting the chalice in a fist, you stayed silent all the while. Geta locked his tired gaze on yours and kept talking.

"The ring was my fathers. Something he left just to me. Caracalla was given finery as well, just for himself. We do not do well with equity, my brother and I." Geta raised his wine for a sip and kept his dark gaze locked on your own. His eye's were red from lack of sleep, it seemed. His eyes were bright, all the while, as they peered into yours. This leader had a way of drawing you in. This leader had a way of making you forget you were probably on the verge of slaughter or worse.

"And while this mission to hunt down the ring has been my mission alone, Caracalla's wrath has still been promoted since he learned something of our fathers had gone missing." Geta explained.

"What's become of the carriage driver and the man I sold your ring to?" You dared to wonder.

"The servant was killed as you know, by Caracalla's own sword. The driver has been exiled at my command." Geta said. "But the man you sold it too was killed as well, by my brother's guards. Before I could get to him. You see my wrath is often equal to Caracalla's. But my bloodlust isn't as insatiable. And I can see his way of violence has stirred fear among our people. Would you agree?"

You had to nod.

"I do not wish death upon you. Blood should only be shed in battles and in honor. You were a simple moving part. You should not deserve to be killed in the crossfire. But you should pay for stumbling where you dared not have stepped. Otherwise, Caracalla will catch wind that I let you slip away without a punishment. And he will do worse."

"So, what is my fate?" You wondered, clutching the wine in your fist, unmoving. Mind whirring. Had you really been shown a backhanded kindness by the ruler you'd always believed to be more unyielding? His already alluring nature becoming more attractive as you understood this to be true.

"Exile seems drastic, yes. But it's an option." Geta raised his glass to gesture, moving to pace before a cushioned chaise. This room, his room, wanted for nothing. There was space and comfort and treasure promised throughout its expanses.

"Then there could be a fine. You'd be meant to pay every fortnight." Geta reasoned drinking once more. Still not entirely trusting of your own wine, you rested the chalice on a nearby chest, crossing your arms with a scowl. As if this Empire needed more money.

"I'm too poor to keep that up." You spat, expressing displeasure in your tone. Geta raised a brow and frowned when he realized your implication, how much work needed to be done for the betterment of the population. With a sigh, Geta cast his gaze about the room. When his pace turned naturally closer to you, his eye's locked on your face as a realization dawned across his. Geta let a smirk hint at his lips as his dark eyes glanced into yours.

"There is... another way..." Geta implied something you didn't see coming. As the man continued his languid back and forth, his gaze stayed ever fixed on your figure. And you hadn't really been ashamed of the glances you'd stolen of his, this day. He was drawing closer, as if to entice you. He didn't need to know that it wouldn't have taken much seduction. He didn't need to know that you'd already been wondering what it would be like to untie the robe at his waist.

Geta didn't need to know that you were becoming less wrought with terror by the second. You'd hoped he'd never known you were afraid, before. But now, in the flickering candlelight of his lavish room, you saw him. The persona Geta had put on all these years, all this time, was just that. You could see plain as day. Geta was full of anger, yes. But he seemed full of so much more, to you, now, too. The man seemed to hold a brewing mixture of depth about him that felt so obvious all of a sudden. Now, more endeared to the ruler, and just as attracted, you made up your mind.

"Seeing as I have no funds... let's just get this over with." You sighed, feigning impatience for the wrong reasons.

Geta circled you, eyeing you up. You wanted to melt under how hot his gaze was. But right now this was all happening far too slowly. Your interest had skyrocketed. But your time had also been heavily wasted here. You had plans, after all. He'd held you captive long enough.

"Sit down. I'm tired of waiting." You barked at him, shoving his shoulder so he collapsed into the chaise. Geta fell seated at your order but looked up to you with an irate sneer. An anger passed over his expression but morphed into curiosity in a blink.

"Seeing as to how I'm getting what I want out of you, I don't mind giving into your demands." Geta announced, as if to remind you he was the one calling the shots. You couldn't help but grin, struggling not to roll your eyes at the man's obsession with power. Humming so he knew you heard him, you settled either knee at Geta's sides.

As the ruler's fingers reached to grab at your hips, your day flashed before your imagination. Funny how life worked. How days could be spent so monotonously for so long only to become upturned and scattered about the next. You never imagined you'd find yourself straddling one of Rome's emperors over a payment for your latest painting.

Geta's kiss surprised you. Not the fact that it was bruising, and harsh. But the fact that it was. You assumed this would go quickly, without much effort put into anything besides a quick and vulgar shagging. Granted, his lips didn't press into yours longer than a couple minutes, before his teeth were digging into your neck. But the way his hands wandered to grab at your limbs and claw at your skin was a welcomed affection you had not expected.

When you finally got to untie the robe around his waist, you couldn't help but admire the build of his core, the shape of his figure. You'd heard girl's oggle over the emperor before, he was no stranger to trysts of most kind. You'd heard girl's trade deadly details of their nights spent with Geta, his lust unbridled. But the sight of his body bare before yours was better than any rumor you'd caught wind of.

As you lowered yourself into Geta's lap, he was quick to rock his hips against yours with force you had been bracing for. His grip on your hips threatened to turn you over, but you'd be damned if you let him gain complete control. You rose a hand to the man's head, raking a set of fingers through his hair. Your fingers curled to grip with perhaps too much gusto, and your hips rolled to force Geta back, more fully seated.

You heard the man let out a hoarse curse as his grip lightened, as he accepted your dominance. Did this really count as payment if you were getting more out of it?

Geta pushed you away when it was all said and done, a steady hand stayed holding your side as he nudged you off of his lap. You maneuvered to stand, adjusting the skirt of your dress with a sigh.

"I suppose I should thank you for sparing my life. Surely thought you'd take it. Shame our exchange has come to an end. Didn't quite feel like a payment at all." A daring smirk painted your face as you turned to head for the door. You heard Geta lumber to stand, perhaps drunk off wine and pleasure. His feet padded as your hand reached for the handle of your escape.

"What was the painting?" Geta asked, stalling your leave and perplexing you to turn to face him. He was shrugging his robe back into place with a raised brow. "The painting bought with my ring, what was it?"

"Oh," You realized, pursing a frown. "I- I don't exactly recall. I do a lot of landscapes. Seascapes. Could've been anything like it." You noted. Geta watched you speak, mouth opened, stalled to say more. His tongue glided over the ends of his teeth as the man nodded and sauntered back toward his table full of wine.

"My guards will see to your return home." Geta called, back facing you. You took that as your leave, anxious for some rest after exhausting your mind with wonder all day, and your body with pleasure this night. As you shut the emperor's door with a soft click, a gratitude filled your chest. That could've gone a lot worse.

///

The next day seemed surreal. You recalled the night like a fevered dream, like a plot from a book. But there were scratches along your thighs that reminded you what had happened was very truly real. You recalled the feelings Geta stirred in you with warmth.

You milled from room to room, mind in constant awe of the way your life had been spared. Since the brothers had come into power, so many senseless killings had been threatened and followed through. So much violence had afflicted common criminals and the odd person out of place alike. Was it more to do with Caracalla? Was he truly the more cruel? Did Geta have a softness about him? Or had you just gotten damn lucky?

You went about your daily chores and sat down to paint. Your art displayed sheep dotting across greyish green land. Your setting sun was in progress. A breeze flowed through the window, and you imagined it in your painting as well. A knocking rattled your door. It's persistence grating your nerves. Only now, at least, no one was intruding.

Maybe that's why you were shocked more so now than before, to see two royal guards at your front door.

"Geta is demanding your audience." One of them chuckled lowly before reaching to grab at you. He was too strong to fight off, though kick and yell you did.

Oh God, he'd realized he'd let you off easy, hadn't he? You should've pretended to hate rocking against his lap in that chair. You should've begged for freedom. Or maybe it was Caracalla after all. Maybe he'd heard of your involvement with his father's stolen ring and wished you dead. And these guards were luring you in with a false promise that Geta was the one wishing for a meeting.

While your mind raced, and the carriage took off into the city and passed the colosseum, you cursed the guards for dragging you away again. For being such fowl scum of the earth to manhandle women like they did.

It wasn't long before you were being yanked from the ride and marched into the great hall with that luscious purple carpet underfoot. Geta was there, assessing a scroll with a couple of servants nearby. His shock surprised you, when his glance looked up from the papers.

As you squirmed against the holds the guards kept on you, Geta shoved the scroll he held onto, into the grasp of a servant. He drew his sword from his side, the instrument of war and horror blinding you in its brightness. The emperors stomp in your direction was quick, his footfall shaking the building and you to your core. This was it. This was your fate.

"Release her now!" Geta yelled, directing his fury to one of the guards at your side. Before the words fully formed from the man's mouth, either of the guard's grips had unlatched from your arms. You did not see that coming. You almost couldn't comprehend that his blade had missed piercing straight through you.

"You were gone for all of a few seconds before you bring her back here?" Geta quizzed, face red with anger. He held the end of his sword to the man's chin, forcing his footsteps back.

"You- you told us to go fetch the girl from last afternoon, is that not what we did your highness?" The guard was bold in asking, though his voice trembled.

"I told you to ask her to come. I told you to remain at her door in patience. And you dare drag the woman back in the matter of mere moments? With force? That's a direct disregard of my orders!" With speed that rallied a gasp from your throat, Geta whipped his sword to slash at the knees of the guard that defied him. The man let out a cry as his legs gave way, sending the fellow to collapse. Geta ordered the other guard to take the injured one to a medic and stay there until he was ready to deal with them further. His blood pooled and stained the purple carpet.

"Why am I here again?" You couldn't linger in uncertainty any longer, once again failing to greet the leader without any respect of his authority. Geta plunged his red stained sword into its sheath as he demanded his servants get out. The workers scattered at the sound of his command, scurrying toward exits. The room was filled with quiet as Geta turned to face you fully.

"I'm sorry they dragged you here. You were only meant to show up if you so wished." Geta's voice was lower, his rage subdued. He confounded you, the way he held so much darkness and contempt about him. The way he eased into constraint. These were not the stories you had heard. This was not the man described to you by retired servants and wives of soldiers. He was more withheld, before you. And it caught you by surprise time and again.

"But since you are here now, and you have not yet raised a hand to lash across my cheek, I shall tell you," Geta went on, letting his eyes do what they had done before. Letting his gaze sweep across your figure. "I asked you here to present to you a proposition. An invitation to spend more evenings like the one we shared just before."

"You cannot be serious." You let a breath of a laugh fan from your throat.

"I'm hardly ever anything but." Geta reasoned with a curled lip and a shrug of his shoulder in a way you knew was meant to get you to chuckle for real. This man continued to confound you. This man contained multitudes. How had no one else, in all their gossip, mentioned this?

"Is this more to do with payment? Did our exchange not suffice?" You reasoned, still uncertain of the terms in which Geta was asking.

"I think you know exactly how well our exchange sufficed. Well enough for me to not have stopped dreaming of doing exactly that time and time again. I'm merely asking because I wish too." Geta was so close, his breath ghosting across your cheek, his eyes searching yours. "And now you get to decide what you wish. Who am I to deny you a choice?"

"What happens should I turn to leave?" You wondered.

"A guard would take you home. And with fair treatment, I'd make certain."

"What happens should I stay?"

"A servant would take you upstairs. And your imagination could fill in the rest."

Well, this certainly wasn't how you expected your day to turn out. That painting of all the sheep and the sunset would have to wait another long day. You suddenly couldn't dream of plans outside of those featuring Rome's half reigning emperor.

With a nod toward the door you'd seen Geta's servants go through, he grinned.

With footsteps more certain of the direction of his room, you found yourself locked in there, waiting.

///

The next weeks were filled with plans you couldn't tell anyone without fear they'd think you'd gone mad. You spent days milling about the stalls to sell your landscape paintings, careful of the payments you accepted. You'd harvest the fruits from your garden for meals and wait until night fall, when your promised escort arrived.

Nights were spent in Geta's room, on his floor, against his wall, in that blessed chaise. Nights were spent shoving the emperors head into the pillows as your hips rocked together. Nights were spent demanding he speed up and slow down at your desire. Nights were spent with Geta sharing wine in between drawn-out romps. You'd drink and laugh and carry on, a couple times until the sun peaked dimly into a new day. You'd stay drinking, sharing stories about where you had come from and your hardships. Things you'd hardly spoken of before. Things you couldn't believe Geta would listen so intently to.

It started off as only a few times throughout any given week. But at the end of those nights Geta would always ask about the next. You'd offer up a day or a time and he'd promise you that he'd see to it happening. He would pour you more wine and tell you the dirtiest jokes, and ask what pleased you most before those nights ended.

But after a while, he stopped asking. And your escort showed up outside your door more nights than most. And it became a rather expected part of the schedule of either of your days.

This night as you padded across the purple carpet, following behind a servant you'd come to trust; a ruckus was sounding from the stairwell you headed toward.

There you found Geta and his brother spitting fowl words in one another's direction. The men were swarmed by guards, ready to take on any outcome of the boys spat. And while they argued about political things you weren't privy to the full details of, you understood they spoke their father's name. You heard Caracalla remind Geta that their father had decidedly upped Rome's soldiers pay to ensure their loyalties to the empire. You heard Geta shout something about how his father was dead, how the brothers needed to learn to ensure loyalties in their own manner. And then he noticed you had arrived.

"Thank God." Geta seethed, waving his brother off, taking the stairs two at a time to lower himself to greet you.

"For you, Geta, trust is easily earned, isn't it?" Caracalla shouted, still domineering about the stairs. "A bat of your lashed eyes toward any common whore and they come flooding through our halls." Caracalla cast a snarl in your direction that turned Geta's blood so hot you swore you could feel the smoke coming off him. With a decidedly quick hand, you rested your fingers to grip Geta's arm, stopping him from running up the staircase to rip his brother in two. You didn't care so much what Caracalla thought of you, so long as Geta's opinion remained unchanged.

"But my powers of persuasion are not so charming. And I must demand trust more harshly. And I must remain harsh to keep control. And I do control the half of this empire entrusted in my name!" Caracalla was seething, fists balled at his sides, eyes bulging with rage. You'd never known anyone to be fueled by such negativity. Geta had slowly started toward his brother, letting your grip remain on his arm.

"We'll reach an agreement. But not till morning. Go back to your side of the estate, now." Geta demanded, taking the staircase slowly, keeping his eyes on his brother. The younger one stood shaking with fury as the elder led you to his room. Guards and servants followed, wordlessly seeing the pair of you behind closed doors. A couple of soldiers usually waited on either end of this hall, but tonight a few more lingered near in addition. These boys really hated each other.

Once locked in his room, safe from rage and question, Geta had you pinned against the wall. He'd usually greet you. He'd usually ask about what paintings you'd sold that day, or if you'd had any great stories of your family before they sold you to a husband. Or of your husband before he died. But tonight, Geta was ravenous. Tonight, he moved more accordingly to the rumors you'd once heard about him.

The emperor didn't fuss with your clothes. He didn't give you time to unravel his either. No sooner than his hand had crept up the skirt of your dress, was he rocking his hips into yours, pounding your back against the wall.

Your nails clawed at the back of his neck and your legs curled to flex around his waist. Geta was relentless as his body hammered into yours. He huffed harder with each new pulse and let out some cursed sighs when your teeth pierced into his shoulder, to keep from screeching all the same. You knew the guards could hear from the hall. But they didn't need to hear more than they had too.

His efforts had ended, his face stayed buried in your neck. But you weren't ready for it to cease.

"You think you're finished? You're only just getting started." You barked, pawing at Geta's head and forearm, shoving him downward. He didn't hesitate, his knees cracked to the floor with force you knew had to hurt. But he didn't seem phased. Geta seemed entirely entranced on bending your knee over his shoulder. Scratching his fingers along your skin. Burying his head between your legs. And he did so consciously, like a duty being fulfilled. He was relentless tonight, and you felt lucky to be relented against.

When your pleasure had ended, and you were left to slide from the wall to find footing, you found the wine too.

"Well, I can't help solve Rome's problems," You began, pouring you each a drink. "But I hope I've just helped solve some of your own, your highness." You half mocked, but half spoke in well-meaning regard. Geta hummed somewhere behind you. His voice sounded nearby. But his hands fell to close the space between you, gripping at the hilt of your hips.

"Dunno, might need to try a couple more times." You could hear the smile in his tone, and you felt his sultry chuckle against your neck, where he nearly dared to place a kiss, but didn't. Geta only reached ahead for his chalice, and asked about your day.

///

You didn't need to sell paintings. You could've lived a basic enough life, fed from the food you grew in your garden, rested from the comfort of your own bed. Secure enough in your late spouses left over finances.

You had known married life for all of five years. Wed before you'd even turned old enough to know better. All because your parents thought it best. They said you'd been sold to a husband to take care of you, in the long run. He did care for you, in his own twisted way. He kept you fed and housed until he died. And he left all his meager earnings to you in his passing. It wasn't much, but it was enough for you, for now, for a while.

You started painting when you moved in with him, to fill the days that dragged on so endlessly. You dreamed of freedom from the man for so long. And kept painting when he died, to fill those same days that were just as endless and a lot quieter to boot. He'd left you all alone in the expanses of the great wide world, yet freedom seemed even more unobtainable to you then, somehow. So, you painted. And decidedly started selling those paintings when the house filled up without room for any more of them. You kept selling them when you realized how eagerly peers bought from you.

You'd made friends down at the stalls. You found a quaint routine there, waiting in the sun to trade paintings for coins, and chattering with townspeople while the mornings stayed young. Bakers and seamstresses and writers alike shared your routine, all becoming familiar faces you were pleased to see each day.

"Goodmorning, you!" A trio of girls your age came giggling your way. Girls you'd invited over a few times. Girls you were happy to see now.

"Listen, are you going to the games in three day's time? I'd like us all to twirl about the colosseum buzzed on vino, carefree!" The small brunette leaned across the table your art was displayed on.

"She just wants to go to wait on Geta, afterward. He always invites girls in after the games." The blonde rolled her eyes, leaning against the post of your stall as you chuckled in understanding, and out of sudden apprehension. You and Geta agreed to your trysts because he trusted how discreet you could be. When you refused to bend your will to give the names of the people you pawned his ring to, he admired that. You couldn't give yourself away, now.

"But haven't you heard?" The redhead leaned in, waving you all to listen closer. "Geta hasn't invited any of the girls that wait at the empire gates in, in weeks."

You'd often trailed in past that very line of girls in question, much to their growing displeasure. Luckily, none of them were from the side of the country you had resided. None of them could spread your name around in whispers, as they did not know it.

"I'm still eager to take my chances." The brunette joked, going on to beg you to come to the games at the colosseum.

"I don't know." Was the best answer you could give without disappointing your friends, or thinking up a messy lie on the spot.

///

Another night in Geta's room was unusually spent in his bed. You'd been used to being forced against a chest of drawers, his voice growling in your ear. Or yours demanding the emperor sit on the stool before the table of wine, and wait in agony like a good, obedient, merciful ruler.

But tonight, Geta had you moving slower in his sheets. He'd closed his eyes as your hips rocked atop his, nice and easy. And when he reached to flip you over, his core pierced languidly into yours. His hand brushed across your cheek and his eyes stayed steadily locked on yours.

"Are you feeling quite alright?" You couldn't help but worry, too overcome with the silence that fell about the room. Geta had been resting at your side, his finger tracing the same pattern against your stomach forever.

"What if you stayed, tonight?" The ruler asked, after a while.

"You didn't answer my question. You realized, still confused as to what mood you'd found Geta in tonight. You'd been often surprised by his wit and his resolution. But this wasn't a way you'd known the emperor before.

"You didn't answer mine either." He pointed, finger still dancing across the skin of your abdomen. You turned your head to find Geta's gaze. His head rested on a pillow at your side, his eyes rolling up to lock with yours. His dark brown stare was illuminating. His curls graced his head so delicately. His silence was so reticent this night. Maybe it was the fact neither of you had had any wine.

"I'll stay if you tell me what's going on in that head of yours." You shot a pointed look to the man at your side who let a lifeless smile flash across his lips as his eyes turned away from yours. Silence filled the room once more, but you got the sense that Geta was choosing his words a while.

"Nothing... none of this is how I thought it would be." Geta spoke. You kept your eyes cast across his amber lit room, fixating on the pattern of the wallpaper. What did he mean?

"What's this?" You quizzed. "Ruling an empire? Sleeping with me? Sobriety from wine for a night?" You tried to joke, desperate for some kind of clarity.

"None of it." Geta responded, his inflection implying everything you listed was weighing on his mind then. And that surprised you. He was always surprising you. Silence settled yet again, and stayed for a while. It was Geta who broke it, after so long. He sat up to meet your eye, searching your gaze before offering a nod. You nodded back, knowing that meant your promise to stay here had been sealed. He rose from the bed to dim the candles, and crashed back into it with a sigh.

When Geta rested his head of golden curls on your chest, in the dark and quiet of his room, you finally understood what he meant. This was all very different now, than it started. None of it had turned out in an expected way. But you felt at ease with it all. You hadn't shared a bed with anyone since your late husband, and those times simply did not count in your mind. You did not care for that man as you had come to care for the one laying against you now. And that dawned on you in fear. But then, a realization that it didn't matter. Not now. Now, you got to rest under the weight of the emperor, for one peaceful night.

///

The next morning was bright and felt early in your bones. And it wasn't long before it hit you, the games were meant to happen today. Geta's stirring at your side was a relished wonder, as his smile widened to see you upon waking. But it all came crashing down as servants and soldiers demanded quick work of getting up and ready for the day of events.

"It will be too hard to send you away now, with all the crowds starting to gather." Geta realized, peering from the window of his room to the public below. "I'll have some appropriate attire sent for you. You shall join us today." The emperor's smile was bitten back, but you saw it reached his eyes as his looked into yours.

Things were shifting with Geta. Night's were turning into days with him. Festivities were offered to be shared. You knew better than to ask. You knew better than to wonder why. You simply thanked him for his offer and waited for clothes to change into as the leader headed out of his room, yelling for a guard to hurry along and follow. You milled about Geta's room, admiring the wallpaper in the daylight. Admiring the stained glass of his window. You traced your finger along carved chests and bed posts. You dared to open a drawer, finding a collection of jewelry there, a familiar blue stoned ring at the front of the collection.

You snapped the drawer shut in a hurry when a knock came across the door.

"Hello." A familiar face entered. Julia, the Emperors mother, twirled in the room with a stack of garments. "These are mine from seasons past. I brought a few, just in case." The woman was dear, with soft curls that matched her sons, gold earrings that brightened her blue eyes. She smiled and introduced herself as if she needed too. For her, you bowed.

"Such a pretty thing, you are." Julia cooed, resting her clothes at the foot of the emperor's bed before turning to consider you. "I've seen you come and go. Quite the feat to boast over. Geta never struggled to make friends, not like Caracalla. But he has failed to keep so many of them."

Julia kept a studying gaze on you as you thanked her for her kindness and watched her saunter out the door. The woman told you to meet the family downstairs once you readied yourself. That's when a certain anxiety settled in the pit of your stomach. What was this? What had you gotten yourself into? Worry plagued your mind as you squeezed into a bright blue and plum skirt. The fabric hugged at your figure but fell so elegantly to the floor. You never dreamed of such finery adorning you. You'd never dreamed of a life so different from the one you'd been used to living.

Downstairs, everyone had gathered, gearing up to head out. Guards of every kind kept the ruling brothers on either side of the room while Julia flitted about, laughing with a man you didn't know. Senators and councilors seemed to mingle with the family just as well, their wives and children patiently lingering on the outskirts of the gathering.

When Julia found you descending the stairs her first greeting after a smile was to tell you how perfectly the dress fit, how powerful you seemed entering the room. She said you held a certain presence about you, keeping a watchful eye on your expression as you gushed to thank her for such continued kindness.

And then you were off, trailing with the wives and the children of the party as the royal family presented themselves before the public. They were loved and hated so that the cheers and boo's from the crowd muddled together in an indistinguishable roar. Your heart pounded to realize how close you were to the action of the day, to realize how viscerally the opinion of the public mattered to the fate of the royals.

You watched Caracalla pull some face, pointing a finger at a citizen who cursed his name on the families walk toward the colosseum. You watched women line themselves along the path Geta walked, his politics be damned. You watched as he turned to look back, smile stretching wider as his eyes found yours. You watched then, as Julia stalled to join your side, and failed to calm the quickening of your heart as she held your arm to walk with you. None of this was how it used to be.

The woman leaned in, explaining exactly how today's games were meant to go. She yammered about the history of it all and pulled a few giggles from your throat as she threw in some personal deadly details about old games she'd bore witness too.

Once you'd all reached the colosseum, the brothers were ushered off to find their royal box, while Julia strategically placed you just outside of there. She frowned when she reminded you could not be allowed to join them further than here, but smiled when she hoped you'd enjoy the day's events. You watched her saunter off, stopping a guard and pointing in your direction before she disappeared in the box all the while. The guard locked his gaze with yours, offering a respectful nod as you considered your surroundings.

All kinds of vendors and stalls were open around every entrance of the arena. All kinds of people wandered about, sampling food and drink, playing cards at tables until the event's kicked off. You decidedly began to wander about, accepting free samples and smiling to people you'd seen in passing. You shielded your eyes from the sun and noticed that guard trailing nearby, keeping a steady eye on your every move.

When the crowds began to clamor toward the inside of the arena, you realized the games were about to begin. You downed a free sample of wine and found your way to watch from afar. Caracalla and Geta were announced in, and greeted with that same muddled roar of praise and disregard. You watched as Geta ate up the attention. You watched as Caracalla fought against it, spitting and arguing with some poor guard in the box. There was something so volatile in the air, as if one wrong move from either of the emperors would unleash havoc. The public was only one excitable realization away from realizing their joined forces could rip the royals from limb to limb. Geta was quick to shift focus to the games, demanding the publics energy be reserved for the battles that were begun, turning the spotlight away from himself. It was a tactical move, but you worried if he and his brother did not change the course of their political actions soon, no amount of pantomime could save them.

Another few swallows of wine helped ease your nerves, all the while. You'd forgotten how on edge the public had only just seemed. You'd been entranced by Geta's presence even from so many miles away. His distraction's had worked wonders on the crowd, his excitable reactions to the winners and losers kept the arena entertained for the better, for now. He kept you entertained all the while. When he would tear his gaze from the games every once and a while, you liked to imagine he was looking for wherever you might've been.

When you wandered off to find more wine, the guard that had been following you stayed back, glued to the battle that was happening. You returned with two cups, to share. The guard tried to deny your kindness but caved with a smile at your insistence to have at least one drink. It was a day of festivities after all.

"We thought you weren't going to make it!" A voice familiar echoed over your ear. Turning from the view of the battle, you found your friends. You chuckled as you greeted the small brunette, buzzed enough off wine to shrug your nerves away. You couldn't exactly explain how you ended up here, to them. Or how you'd come to dress so finely. But they didn't pester you too much about it, drunk all the same. The girls swarmed you with giggles and hello's and how are you's.

"Change your mind, have you?" The blonde teased, raising her brow at you. But your mind was too slow to understand why.

"This is the gate the royals always leave from. Isn't it obvious?" The small brunette pointed, waving her hand to gesture around. When you glanced up, you noticed a particularly increasing population of young women that had begun to collect around the area. Geta always famously exited from this path, and always famously collected a girl or two to follow him back to the royal hall.

"Oh, no, I just sort of-" You stumbled over words, "ended up on this side." How were you to explain this all away? "I actually... should be going now that it's nearing an end. Get home before sun set." This reason sounded good enough in your head to speak aloud, as you began to walk backward, waving to your friends all the while. You spun on your heels, anxious to get away, making up your mind to head home should that be your only sound escape. But you'd barely walked a dozen paces before that guard was gliding close and halting your leave.

"You're not to go. I'm to see you united with her highness when she passes through that exit."

"Is- is that what she ordered?" You asked meekly, looking up to the roman soldier who loomed over you with his bulky build, yet kind eyes. The man did not speak, but lifted a hand to spin you around by the shoulder, placing a gentle palm there to guide you back where you came from. You saw your friends notice, perplexed gaze's settled on your march as you stepped closer to where they'd stayed waiting.

Caracalla was the first one to storm through the arched entrance, scowling at you on his storm toward his chariot. But then, a spectator, too drunk for his own good, began to slur insults to the emperor. The fellow had barely began cursing Caracalla's name, before the ruler stepped close to grab the man by his throat, strong enough to lift him to the tips of his dirty toes. The citizen struggled to breathe, squirming for relief. Caracalla shouted in the man's face, something about knowing better. The ruler let go, the citizen dropped to the floor in a rattled gasp. When Caracalla demanded the guards that followed him, to slaughter the citizen still choking for breath on the ground, you'd had enough.

"Do not do that. Have you such little mercy?" It wasn't to be helped, the way your body and mind worked together to force out a shout. You should have been more afraid of the way Caracalla turned to fix his fiery gaze on you. But rage at the senseless violence was all you could feel. Yet, the guards were already slashing their swords at the belly of the the citizen, so he might suffer still before passing.

Caracalla stood considering you, longer than you expected. The crowds fell silent, the only noises were the hoarse cries from the dying man. And your heart hammering in place.

Caracalla moved his look from you, to the guard steady at your side, and back to you. His head shook, and a scoff left his throat. He turned to leave, kicking the man he'd murdered on his exit. Your body shook with panic. Your stomach churned at the realization that you'd escaped yet another royal execution.

The crowds parted to let Caracalla pass, steering clear of the angry little man. Your friends seemed to think of walking closer to where the guard had stalled you to wait. But their confounded and horrified expressions morphed into something more wonder filled, as their collective eye unfocused from your position.

You were too busy assessing your friend's questioning gazes to see he'd appeared. But instead, you heard Geta's voice in your ear.

"I'd say you're lucky he spared you. But I think there are more powerful forces than luck working on your side." You heard him say. Your friend's gazes had no doubt been locked on the emperor, but soon fell more perplexed onto you, yet again. And then you realized everyone's eyes had shifted to you. The entire crowd that had watched you speak against the vindictive leader just ahead. The same crow that had pushed closer to wait for a scrap of attention from the man that spoke to only you, now, was casting a collective stupefied glare right at you.

"I'd like to take you away now, but I'll have you wait on my mother. She hasn't stopped bringing up your name since this day has begun." Geta stayed speaking lowly, and you nodded to assure you understood, keeping your nervous gaze cast on the crowd that had fixated their attentions on you. "Do not worry though, tonight we can debrief in more ways than one."

You had to turn and grin at him then, pleased to see he'd waited to share a smirk with you. He was off no sooner though, parting through the crowd with little acknowledgement their way. Your friends kept their slack jawed gazes set on you as you wondered for a beat about saying something to them. But then Julia was sweeping you away, resting her clutch at the bend of your arm like she'd done before.

They watched you leave, just as everyone had. You shot your friends a quick shrug and an expression you hoped they'd understand meant you'd catch them all up later, if ever you could dream up a good enough fib.

Unlike your journey here, Julia asked all about you on your trek back. You gave thoughtful answers, not daring to spare the truth of your meager life to the woman, but hoping the way you spoke of it would endear you to her somehow. It wasn't like you needed to be adored by Julia. But you did long to be respected in some basic human way, by the royal woman.

///

That evening went on strangely. Caracalla locked himself away in the furthest parts of the halls. No one dared speak about him in his absence. No one had dared to allude to his fury or righteousness at all. Instead, the tone of the evening was rather merry. You shared a meal with a mile long table of strangers, glad all the while to have been welcomed in the celebrations of the day. You gabbed with socialites and senators alike, until one by one they headed for home and bed. Try as you might to take your leave, Julia would not let you. She only kept dragging you from guest to guest to introduce. Until you were the last one standing. Until even Julia had made her exit from the room, Geta too. Leaving you to wait in the parlor until further command.

A pair of guards stood unmoving near the doors, as you sat at the head of the dirty table. There were plates and glasses and saucers left awry, covered in crumbs for the kitchen maids to come and handle. There was a steady crackling fire on the opposite end of the room. There was wallpaper that didn't put your senses at ease the way the kind in Geta's room often had.

When the sound of the door opening stirred you from blank thoughts, you shifted to stand. Julia was easing into the room, smile and curls soft as ever. Eye's full of a certain kind of knowing. Behind her, Geta followed. His mother spoke your name, as if to grab your attention, as if she didn't already have it.

"You're not to return home." The woman began, gliding to stall before you. Geta shouldered past her, moving to stand at your side and watching as his mother spoke. "I've noticed you come and go, as I mentioned." Julia went on. "And I've noticed how my son has been less fraught, during the time you've been around. I've heard you speak, and I've seen you command a presence in any room you enter."

"What are you on about? What is this?" Geta demanded, that brooding gaze of his beginning to darken as understanding evaded him.

"As good as she has been for you, son, I'm certain she'll benefit our empire just as well." Julia glanced to Geta before her gaze settled unmovably on yours. Your chest filled with the weight of a realization. Your mind buzzed with wonders of her implications. "You will marry in two days time. Enough to spread the news across the public, and plan something grand."

"Marry?" You breathed, feeling your heart hammer in your stomach.

"You actually don't-" Geta began.

"I actually am watching this empire teeter on the edge of collapse." Julia interrupted Geta, causing his jaw to clench and his brow to darken further than before. "If we do not start moving more intentionally in the direction of change, you and your brother will ruin everything. If you marry this girl, you will marry someone from the very public you've been so often accused of dismissing. This girl is clearly capable of not only earning our family greater public favor. But she would be your bride, and you two together would have a better chance of making sense of this empire than your brother. Caracalla cannot be allowed to overpower your rule, Geta. Do you realize how close that idea is to becoming our reality?" Julia was insistent. "You do not have a choice. This has to happen. For all our fates." She was looking right at you again.

You were shaken, stunned, totally unprepared. Just days ago you were living such a carefree reality, all you knew were paints and pleasure by way of the emperor's hands. But now all of a sudden, all of Rome's fate depended on if you stayed standing here or made a break to sprint for the door.

"Get out." Geta pointed, coldly dismissing his mother. She began to argue back, pleading his name to listen. "Get out! I command it!" Geta was fuming, rage becoming his entire essence. You couldn't help but screw your eyes shut at the boom of his voice. You heard a guard approach to see the royal mother out of the door. She went without a fight, but insisted Geta had no choice, insisting she was already making plans to assure this fate for the both of you. As one guard saw her out of the room, the other followed, leaving you and Geta alone in the room with the ugly wallpaper.

The fire stayed crackling in the corner. The table stayed dirty. Geta began to pace, like he did, hands on his hips, head shaking in an effort to make sense of things.

"You are quiet." He spoke up, softer than he had spoken all night.

"I am choiceless." You warbled. Hadn't this already happened to you? Hadn't you already been forced to wed a man for the betterment of some kind of future? You thought you'd already paid your dues. You thought freedom was supposed to be promised at some point. You thought you'd had it, just days ago. But even still you were captured by the powers that be. It wasn't like you were opposed to being Geta's bride. But you were rocked to realize it didn't matter what you wanted, in this life. It was just going to keep happening to you, against you, despite you.

You watched as Geta sped up his pace, thinking. His eyes danced as if to keep up with an invisible coming together idea. And then his moving stalled. He rolled his shoulders and let his eyes rake up your figure, like they so often did. Geta's brown stare bore into yours, as if to search for an answer to a question not yet asked.

"You claim to have been born to die." Geta gestured, sauntering closer. "I claim to have been born to rule. But we have failed to consider what there could be to live for. I have reason to believe my answer to living lies within you." His speech was imploring. He meant it. He only ever spoke with authority, by that you weren't surprised. But by his meaning, by the tenderness in it, you were. "As ruler, I shall make the final decision regarding my mother's demands. But... I shall also wait here in silence as you choose your fate. I will command no guard after you should you flee. This time, this wedding, you'll be allowed to choose."

"Should I flee, will there be fines? Will I forever be in your debt somehow?"

"I shall see to it that you owe nothing to this empire if you leave it. But you must leave it entirely, you must go far from here. It's the only way I could make these guarantees."

"Should I stay..."

Geta loomed closer, until his breath fanned across your face. So close you could see the golds speckled across the brown of his eyes. Close enough to kiss.

"I would see to your value." Geta breathed, stalling an inch before you. "Your profile on coins. Your voice heard above others. Your throne... My bed... I'd see to it."

Your heart hadn't stopped pounding since this conversation spun to life. But it beat harder yet, at Geta's tone and implication now.

"Take my hand." Geta held an open face palm before you. "Or turn away." You glanced to the door.

You considered all that lie beyond it, the quiet, the vastness. The race to the finish line of life would be slow and steady outside these doors. Your freedom would be quiet and lonely. Then you turned to Geta and saw a different kind of future to consider. And then a thought dawned on you. What if the freedom you'd always been in search of, was not just yours alone? What if an entire empires fate had always been pressed into the back of your heart, clear in the front of your mind only now that you understood everything Julia had said. You thought of your latest painting. The one with the sheep and the sunset. You wondered if maybe it was a sunrise all along.

Your hand flexed, knuckles deciding between clenching and raising up. Until suddenly your palm was in Getas. Until suddenly your fate, and all of Rome's, had been sealed.

///

Part 2 Coming Soon...

#joseph quinn #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #emperor geta #emperor geta fanfic #geta x reader #gladiator 2 #joseph quinn x reader #fem!reader #joe quinn smut #minors dni

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plleeeepppyyyy · 2 years ago

Text

wally + clumsy and silly reader!

wally likes them silly,,

these are just little ramblings of wally with a silly reader.,,

_____

★★★ — ★★★★★★ ★★★★★★ — ★★★

you were always known around the neighborhood to be clumsy, you were always clumsy y/n! silly y/n, always tripping over everything. which made you frustrated, despite the others giggling and helping you out.

but, this really didn’t stop you from doing a lot! it made you happy that your friends could at least get entertainment out of your clumsiness. so, you didn’t mind much at times. you were always going around making others laugh, without having to break your head.

you were bouncing around, falling, then coming right back up. if anyone could describe you, you would be a bouncy ball.

as you did this, you noticed a certain blue haired fellow. wally, he was.. different. when you would look at him; you just see him staring at something. or remark about something. he was just chill, whenever you would be around barnaby. he was there. just looking at either the two of you. and for some reason, you felt embarrassed as you did a silly thing.

as if he was silently judging you and it made you feel stupid. nonetheless though, you kept your act up. wanting others to be happy. cause thats what you were, silly, clumsy, happy y/n!

so, one day, you were just strolling around, doing daily shopping and whatnot. till you tripped, for like what? the millionth time? maybe nobody saw it, right?

well, not exactly,,

wally just happened to be right in front of you, holding out his hand. which made you instantly nervous, i made how could you not? just looking up at him, with his usual intense stare, those doting eyes, admittedly it made you more embarrassed by the encounter. more embarrassed to be around him.

but, he didn’t laugh, nor tease you, he just held his hand out. calling out in his calm tone, asking if you were fine.

after stammering out a yes, he dusted you off and helped you out. to admit, you never talked to wally much before, have you? yes, you greeted one another, but imagining yourself tripping daily right in front of him was humiliating.

so, you kept your distance more than usual.

after he helped you out and went on his way, it made you feel a bit bad. for practically trying to ignore him, being too careful around him. you just couldn’t help it though! he was so calm, intense at times, maybe you could even say aloof. after that encounter though, you definitely changed your mind.

after many thoughts dawning on you, you decided to hang around him more often. and he drew you in more. he was just alluring,, soo cool, definitely relaxed. more than you usually were. you were tripping all over the place, just making the others giggle, and you were a bit dumb at times,, (sorry

(;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`)

just silly you were, wally definitely thought you were charming. you were just nice to watch, you would do your own thing, usually break a thing or too, he loved watching you.

he would usually be there to help you back up after you fall, watch you, and giggle at you at times. he didn’t want to lie, you were so charming. you really were like a cartoon character.

basically you guys started being attached at the hip, which was a great surprise to the others! they always saw you together nowadays, wally would just follow along while you were skipping around, missing a beat once a while as you talked and talked. while he listened without a care about anything else.

(basically you guys are calm + hyper)

during this period, wally DEFINITELY wants you to be his muse,, his inspiration. it doesn’t matter if you’re always moving , or bouncing your leg, or always bumping into stuff. he wants to paint you, sketch you, just,, to him you’re so fun to look and see. why not paint you daily? he definitely has an art portfolio of just you, ranging from sketches to paintings. it’s totallyyy not because he’s in love wit you.

he also finds himself staring at you 24/7, even if you guys are hanging out with poppy, julie, baranby, or anyone. he’ll just admire you more than he ever did before. back then, he would hum and watch you a bit as you did another silly thing. nowadays, when you would be fumbling with a straw for your juice, doing something silly, or just anything. it makes him kick his feet, it’s just so endearing, you’re so endearing.

it’s not only wally falling in more, it’s also you.

i mean, what’s not to love about wally? he’s so smooth, calm, he definitely is the type of dude whose got it all under control. he was just,, the opposite of you. maybe that was what attracted you to him, he just was elegant. at least compared to you, when you thought about it.

he was good at everything, he drew well, spoke well, walked well too. you weren’t that for sure, it was like he could guide you through anything. and you’d make it out okay. it made you feel better about your clumsiness.

hopefully by your silly antics and such, it would make it worth while for him.

wally notices on how much you try to make him happy, how you always offer to pose for him, give him ideas; always giving him stuff. it warms his heart to be honest, the fact you’re trying so much for him makes him feel happy.

later into ur guy’s relationship, you both def get comfy. a minute with you two and you already know something’s definitely going on.

cause you guys are just basically flirting at this point, well you can consider wally is, idk about you tho,, ur for sure doin something! (٥⁀▽⁀ )

but if we’re being for real, you guys def flirt. in ur own little ways, wally is pretty smooth when it comes to flirting. once in a while,, he’s pretty awkward with it, due to his,, tone at times. but the other times he’s good at it, like he for sure had some practice (≧◡≦) ♡

literally everyone around you two are just sick of it, you two think ur being sneaky with the flirting, nope! they’re basically bystanders wandering if you guys will finally announce that you’re finally an item!!

you for sure did something like,

“this ones for you wally!!(•̀ᴗ•́)و 🏀”

then the ball misses and launches back onto your head, bonking you sillier.

wally is charmed! ♡︎

it took a while for you guys to happen, wally for instance was actually a bit confused. it took him a bit to figure out what he was feeling, he found you silly, charming, cute,,

okay, maybe he thought you were something for sure.

while you,, poor you,, you just got nervous around him and NEVER would’ve talked to him about ur feelings. like., you just felt like he was out of your league.

but, you two eventually happened,, you did it! ( ˘ ³˘)

⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂

today was simple, just you, wally, and him sketching. you kept peeking over at what exactly he was sketching, it varied to be honest. apples,, a dog, or just some scribbles.

how could he just simply draw? so easily, while the best you could come up with was chicken scratch. nonetheless, wally was patient with you, he just accepted you. even if you didn’t do anything that impressive.

speaking of this, why did he do that? he just accepted you daily, he would just coo and praise you over anything. how he didn’t mind how much you tripped over something or bumped into one of his art supplies. now that wasn’t simple.

“uhm, hey wally?” wally perked his head up as you spoke up, putting his full attention on you. you felt a bit intimidated as he looked at you with those eyes of his. even if you two came this far, you always found yourself flustered by his presence.

“yes, darling?” he asked, keeping his usual smile up. you cleared your throat and spoke back, “not to be too disruptive but.. i’ve got a question.” he watched you as you sat yourself on the grass. you could feel the spring air flow by as he looked at you with question.

“you’re never disruptive, but do tell. what’s got you thinking, y/n?” as you tried to get your words together, you sighed as you felt yourself get nervous. why did you get nervous? he was just your partner, why be so shy? god, if only you weren’t this flustered all of the time.

“uhm, okay so.. you know how clumsy i am? like, to the point where it’s my whole personality?” you drawled out personality, wally hummed. “well, i wouldn’t say that is your whole personality, but go on.” he said with sincerity, which made you cringe at yourself.

“it’s just.. why do you even like me? i just, i’m so.. stupid at times. i’m always fooling myself out while you— you’re just not that. you know?” you winced at yourself at your explanation, it was clumsy as you usually were.

wally paused for a bit, looking at you with an emotion you can’t really describe. maybe it was pity? concerned? you couldn’t really tell, sometimes whenever he looked at you, you just couldn’t say what he was thinking.

all he did was sigh and close his sketchbook, putting it beside him as he patted his lap. you knew immediately what that meant as you shuffled beside him, laying your head right on his lap. as you did so, he stroked your hair gently.

“now, why would you think about yourself like that?” he asked in his usual soft tone, “i think you’re perfect the way you are, not stupid.” wally looked down at you as he stroked your hair.

wally would never understand how you could think of yourself like that. to him, you were just perfect for him.

“well, it’s just— i.. i don’t know why you gave me a chance.” you mumbled out of embarrassment, wally looked at you with an amused expression. “remember that day when, we actually got to talk? when i tripped right in front of you? i tried so hard to stop that from happening. because, well, you’re the type of person. i don’t wanna embarrass myself in front of. clearly i didn’t do such a good job on that, huh?”

you kept your focus on your hands, not daring to look at him. you noticed how his hand stopped, he kept his hand right on your head.

“y/n.. why would that matter? i have seen you trip tons before.. and, plus, i don’t mind how much you bump, trip, or fall. i’m always there to help you back up, right?” he made you look up as he titled your head upward, “i think its charming.. not how you get hurt at times, of course. but, the way you keep getting back up after you trip, it’s.. well, its admirable. you’re admirable.”

you both paused as silence dawned on the two of you, it made you think. he really loved you, didn’t he?

“you mean that, right?” you asked, looking up at eyes he could never say no too.

wally let a soft chuckle out. “of course i do, silly. gee, you’re asking all of these silly questions.. i mean every,” he leaned down to kiss your head. “word. i promise.” his words made you smile, to the point where you could kick your legs and giggle.

“thanks, sweets. sorry, i’ve just been thinking a lot.” you hummed as you felt better about the whole thing. wally nodded and kissed your head again, keeping your head on his lap.

“but, besides that, what really drew you toward me?” you asked another question, wally hummed in thought as he stroked your hair some more. as if he was thinking.

“a lot of things.. but, it was cute seeing you do funny things. you were just a silly little neighbor to me back then, even still..”

“hm, that’s nice.. wait!” you quickly sat up, “what do you mean silly little neighbor?! could’ve at least said lover.” you whined as he chuckled quietly. “ah, yes. you’re right, silly little lover. you’re my silly little lover, right?”

wally hummed in amusement as you huffed, “guess so.. if you’re gonna call me something stupid you might as well make it less stupid.” wally shook his head and pulled you back to him, wrapping his arms around you.

“oh you, it’s not stupid.. and you definitely are the opposite of stupid.” he giggled and kissed your cheek, he definitely was feeling touchy today.

you couldn’t help but relax back into his arms. you were his silly little lover, his. and that made you okay with tripping daily, if it meant that.

as you closed your eyes and leaned against him more, he let out a little gasp. which made you jump a bit, “oh my, i gotta go give barnaby his microphone back..” he sighed and pulled you off of him gently, looking at his watch.

“you wanna come with, love?” wally asked as he grabbed his stuff, you quickly nodded. as he got up, he held his hand up. looking at you the same as he did the first time, admiration.

you took his hand without hesitation, you stumbled over a bit as you stood up.

he hummed in fondness, “you got it?”

“yep, totally!” you huffed in confidence, but after one step almost tripped over. you cursed yourself mentally.

“uhm.. how about i just hold onto you?” you sheepishly asked as you wrapped your arm around wally’s.

“not a problem with me, darling.”

★_________________________________★

(character and artwork belongs to partycoffin!)

okayy,, i made this a bit longer than i expected it to,, but thats fine. anyways i think i figured out how to open up my inbox! sooo,, if you guys want me to write more stuff about wally or anyone else. im up for it!

btw THANK U GUYS FOR ALL THOSE NOTES YOU GAVE ME LAST TIME (•̀ᴗ•́)ミ❤︎︎

#wally darling x reader #wally darling #welcome home #welcome home arg #romantic #imagines #silly

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literatureloverx · 4 months ago

Note

Hello! This is my first time asking anything so, sorry if this doesn’t make any sense. I love the way you write & your ideal type for Fyodor. I was curious, how would he have met his ideal type? I understand if you’re busy! Thank you

Hello dear!♥️ You’re not bothering at all, and I’m so happy that I’m the person you chose for your first request.♥️

I’m sorry it took me so long, and I hope you enjoy reading it!♥️

Fyodor likely saw you in a serene and sophisticated setting, such as a café, a theatre, a library, or a museum. I chose the Musée Fabre for this scenario.♥️

Religious themes, art interpretations, intrigued and manipulative Fyodor.

“A Beauty to Behold”

You move a loose strand away from your face, which reveals your small, innocent face.

Fyodor’s gaze lingers on you for a few moments longer, an odd thought crossing his mind: no one else seems to notice you. You were beautiful, undeniably so, and that alone was captivating. Yet the fact that others failed to acknowledge you, as if blind to the art before them, only heightened your allure, drawing his attention to you even more.

You, a beautiful young woman, dressed in fine stilettos and a figure-hugging, midi-length crème dress, holding a coat and a small bag of the same color in your arms, appeared to be the only one genuinely interested in the art before you—reading the text beside it and admiring the piece for more than five minutes now. ‘The Fallen Angel’ by Alexandre Cabanel.

He takes a calm stride toward you, coming to a halt just beside you—like a predator, one might think. His cool aura contrasts sharply with your warmth.

Fyodor moves a little closer to observe you more clearly, studying the way you react to the painting and the little facial expressions that appear on your beautiful features while you’re deep in thought.

After a moment, he hums, his voice light and charming.

“What do you make of this one, miss?” His eyes rest on the painting itself.

You look at him with your doe eyes, widened slightly as his approach seems to have come unexpectedly. You seem like an introverted person, and rather shy.

He finds himself intrigued by the sight of such innocence and naivety, and he can’t help the slight, cold smirk that spreads on his lips.

An unrealistically handsome man, tall and dressed in a dark suit that mirrors the intensity of his gaze, stands before you. It takes you a few moments to find your voice, but when you do, your words come softly.

“When I look at it, I feel the weight of what it means to turn away from God’s light. The angel, once so radiant and close to God, now sits alone, his face full of sorrow and defiance….”

You pause for a brief moment. “….it does not make me feel less empathetic towards the angel that is depicted in the painting. Because he does not embody the true evil that is the devil.”

Fyodor listens attentively, his smirk softening into a small, more genuine smile. Your words are not only intriguing but also reveal a certain depth and maturity. His gaze glides over you again, taking in the details of your face and figure in a subtle, nonchalant way.

“It's truly interesting, and also curious to hear someone not just throw around shallow, superficial phrases but instead look at the painting at a deeper, more analytical level, isn't it?”

“Are you in agreement with my opinion, sir?”

You say softly, with a shy undertone, subtly analysing his fine features. Clearly intrigued in your own, feminine, adorable way.

A quiet, gentle chuckle leaves Fyodor's mouth. Your shy, innocent manner of speaking and acting amuses and delights him, and he likes the way you’re looking at him, even if your gaze is shy, almost a tad timid. When he speaks, there's a slight hint of playfulness in his voice, though his sharp eyes never leave your pretty features for a second.

“That depends. Are you expecting praise, my dear?”

This was something that you did not expect, which makes you blush softly.

“Oh, I wasn't...”

You stutter.

“I…was...just asking if you agree with me.”

You recover quickly. “Do you have an opposite statement you would make?”

A smirk appears on Fyodor's lips again at the sight of your blushing and stuttering, and suddenly, he's very much enjoying this conversation. He can't put his finger on it, but there's something about this. About you. Something that is new. A lovely young woman that draws him in, makes him want to keep talking to her.

He lets out a small hum before he answers your question, his deep, melodic voice barely above a murmur.

“No, miss. I think you're absolutely correct.”

Your eyes widen, as if saying, 'you do?’. You look at the painting again, and then at Fyodor. He seems rather cold, calculating, analysing, looking into your soul, piercing through your comfort zone by playing a game of cat and mouse, in an almost nonchalant way.

He must be either bored or lonely.

“And you have nothing to add, sir?”

He shakes his head, his smirk fading into a small smile as he continues to study you, both amused and intrigued by how genuinely interested you seem in his opinion.

Your voice is so soft and sweet, he feels himself drawn to you without even realising it, the desire to prolong your conversation suddenly appearing in his head.

He can tell that you’re alone—a sweet, beautiful person like you, all by yourself in this grand museum, pursuing your passion. He figured out most of this —and more— within the first few minutes of meeting you.

The corner of Fyodor's lips curls up into a very subtle, almost mischievous-looking smile. He likes how you want to extend the conversation, and he decides to play along, simply because the thought of leaving you, this charming, beautiful young woman, alone does not please him.

He takes a step closer, now standing right next to you as he looks at the painting as well, his eyes roaming over the colors and shapes that create a fascinating composition.

“Well, I suppose I could say a few more things. Would you be interested in hearing them?”

You nod softly. “Yes, please do.”

Fyodor is satisfied to see that you seem to desire more, and he can’t help but let his gaze flit from the painting back to you, lingering on the soft features of your lovely face for a moment before he speaks again.

His deep voice is as melodic as before, but it’s clear that he’s more interested in you than in the art at the moment—a fact only he is aware of, something you could never tell.

“You're already correct when you say the angel does not embody true malice, but I think, in order to understand the pain and defiance on his face, it's important to look at what has led to his downfall.”

“You mean to say... the rebellion?”

He nods, a sly, almost mischievous smirk appearing on his lips once more with how he watches your reactions to his words, enjoying seeing you paying so much attention to his point of view.

Everything about you is sweet, and Fyodor is slowly becoming more and more intrigued, wanting to see more of it the longer you talk.

It is truly strange. He feels a certain way, and his frozen heart does not seem to keep up with this feeling.

“Precisely, my dear. The fallen angel chose to go against the Creator. That's what caused his downfall. His choice, no one else's.”

You nod thoughtfully, whispering softly.

“One is responsible for whatever one does. Only strong minds can withstand the corruption of the seven deadly sins… but no one can truly escape them, because being human means having weaknesses. One could say that human beings are sinful and foolish, for they cannot help but be corrupted. But then again… that is what makes them human. Being human is not a sin.”

The quiet, barely audible sound of your voice is like music to his ears, and his smile widens slightly at your words. You clearly possess a wisdom and intelligence that goes beyond your age, and this makes the interest and amusement he feels for you only grow. You’re so… proper.

You make for a far more interesting conversation than any intellectual or even philosophical topic he could go on about with other individuals. You lack his level of intellect, sure, but he can’t deny that you’re not someone who bores him.

Rather than challenging him, you present an understanding of his own perspective, which is more comforting than threatening. Something he is not used to. Not naive, but simply pure.

A power so few people have. An objective view on the matter of humanity.

His smirk turns sharp, and the subtle mischief in his eyes is more obvious as he continues looking at you while speaking.

“So very true, my dear. To fall... is your own choice indeed.”

You smile sweetly at him, your gaze demure and soft with intrigue.

“It is not common for me to find someone who shares my views.” You say gently.

“I heard interpretations about his tragic beauty, contrasting with the sorrow and defiance in his expression, symbolising the consequences of pride and ambition. It's often seen as a romanticised portrayal of Lucifer's fall, emphasizing themes of rebellion, loss, and the fragility of even the most exalted beings.”

You look at the painting. “But it never seemed enough to me.”

He hums in thought, allowing his gaze to flicker from your delicate features to the painting and back again as he listens to what you have to say.

Your words are eloquent, and they show an intelligence and depth of understanding that even people a lot older than you are lacking.

And yet, there is still something so innocent and sweet about you, something that makes him want to see those beautiful doe eyes of yours looking up at him in awe... He has to suppress a small chuckle, keeping his voice in a tone just as soft as yours is.

“So it seemed insufficient to you?”

“No one ever truly depicts the true evil in its pure form, don't you think? It was not easy to understand. The idea of there being a true, pure evil. I believe that is why so many people are romanticising it…”

You gaze at Fyodor. “…Because they can’t understand that he is simply, purely, evil. He chose to defy God and rebel—not out of altruistic ambitions, but because of his pride. He’s no human. He should’ve known better.”

You smile sweetly. “But it is nice to know that at least someone agrees with me.”

His smirk returns, and his expression turns sharp as he leans towards you ever so subtly, his deep voice still as soft and melodic as ever, though the slight mocking tone in his words is clear.

Ah, so you crave attention and approval from someone more capable of seeing what others cannot? How very cute. Not that he didn’t already figure that out.

“I couldn't agree more, miss...?”

You say your name softly. “…a pleasure to meet you, mister...?”

You extend your hand towards him in a warm, friendly manner. Fyodor takes it, your hand slender and delicate in his larger, paler one.

His grip is firm but gentle, as though afraid of breaking you. That is unlike him—he is used to breaking and destroying things.

And yet, there is something about you that makes him feel at ease. Your touch is almost like a relief. A sense of serenity in this twisted world.

The smirk on his lips never leaves, and for a moment he holds your hand a second too long, enjoying the feel of your soft skin underneath his fingers.

“Fyodor Dostoevsky.”

The chemistry between you two could almost be felt from a hundred miles away.

“…Mister Dostoevsky,” you say softly.

He hums, the way you say his name causing his smirk to fade into a small smile—the first one that is truly and fully genuine.

Your voice is even more lovely when his name falls from your lips, and he can tell you’re not just another pretty young woman who pretends to have some knowledge about the topics discussed—not when just the way you pronounce his name makes a pleasant shiver run down his spine.

He gently lets go of your hand, although reluctantly, and his eyes never leave your pretty face as he continues speaking.

“You’re not a local if I’m hearing the right accent, are you, miss?”

“Yes, I’m not. I’m (any heritage). And you are… Russian?” you ask softly.

He nods, his eyes never leaving hers as he gazes at your innocently curious expression. You’re so open, so pure and genuine in the way you speak and present yourself, and it amuses and fascinates him in a way he can’t quite describe as he listens to your soft, melodic voice.

“Russian, indeed. I take it it’s rather obvious?”

You giggle softly. “The accent, yes, but the name says it all.”

He lets out a quiet, deep chuckle at the sound of your soft laughter, the corners of his lips curled up into a small smile. He likes your laugh and your voice, how gentle and sweet you are. It is like a fresh breeze.

“Ah, I was correct, then. You truly know more than the average young person.”

“I learned a little bit of Russian at home—that is why—because I enjoyed reading Russian literature, but I’m afraid it’s not good enough for me to present it to the ears of a native speaker…”

You sound shy. He can’t help the way he smiles at the thought of you trying to learn his language, and the fact that you’re doing it out of interest in his nation’s literature makes it only sweeter.

You truly are an interesting young lady, and the more he learns about you, the more your innocently demure appearance and your shy behavior intrigue him. He’s well-schooled enough to keep it hidden behind his polite smile.

“I would be delighted to hear you try, darling.”

You look shyly at him, seemingly regretting having admitted that you know a little Russian, stuttering:

“I—I’d r-rather not…”

Fyodor’s smile only grows at seeing your shy, embarrassed reaction. You truly are adorable, blushing and stuttering as you try to get out of speaking. He decides to have mercy on you.

“Very well, if you’re not comfortable doing so, I won’t pressure you.”

His eyes continue to study you, and he still has a hard time figuring out what it is about you that makes him want to continue this conversation.

You sigh softly, preparing yourself to bid this interesting stranger goodbye with your innocent gaze.

Oh dear, he can read you all too well.

“Mister Dostoevsky—”

“A moment, my dear.”

You are flustered because he seems to have such a sharp mind, which is both thrilling and unnerving in a positive way. The way he could tell that you were trying to leave without giving a real sign is truly admirable—and somewhat creepy, but you were too dazzled by him to know any better.

“I’m listening, Mister Dostoevsky.”

“There will be a party of artists and intellectuals in a few days, here at the opera. One of the more important ones, it is. I would enjoy having someone as intelligent and lovely as you there.”

(That’s a lie; there is no party and no intellectuals—only his rats, which he will use to create the ambiance.)

His amethyst eyes never leave your face as he speaks, observing every little expression you might make while listening to his words.

He can’t deny that he’s interested in you, a form of interest he’s not used to. A very dark, and deeply rooted desire that seems to shine through his icy walls.

Your eyes sparkle as you listen to his words, recognising the slightly flirty but cool undertone of his words.

His gaze is intimidatingly direct and deep, which makes your cheeks flush softly. You can’t help but be flattered by the invitation. And you certainly cannot say no to him.

There is just something about him that makes your heart flutter with joy and excitement. And you do have time during that particular timeframe before heading back to your own country. So… why not?

“I would be delighted, Mister Dostoevsky.”

His smile turns into a soft smirk, and he hums in slight satisfaction as you agree. The feeling is quite intriguing, to say the least. He gives a slight bow, not once taking his eyes off your face.

“So am I, considering I’ll get to see you there, my dear.”

You try to hide your flustered face by tilting your head innocently.

“Is there any dress code I should look out for?”

Fyodor hums for a moment. He has already calculated that you would ask this, as you seem to be a very proper young lady who does not wish to overstep. And you will, of course, wear what he wants you to.

“No, not really. The evening’s theme is white, so it would be best if you wear a white, elegant dress. Other than that, there’s not much to know. However, I am certain you shall look enchanting no matter what you wear.”

You blush. “Thank you very much. Then… s-shall I give you my phone number?” You ask nervously.

He smiles at your flustered reaction. You really are adorable, blushing like a little schoolgirl being asked for her number for the first time.

He cannot recall having had a woman so nervous about giving him, a man, her contact information, and he enjoys watching just how shy you get while doing so.

He takes your number with the same polite smile, but he does not use his phone or write it down anywhere.

“Thank you, and I will ensure to text you the details of the event later on, my dear.”

You are confused because he did not write your number down anywhere. No way he’d be able to memorise it this quickly, right?

“And… you can memorise it this instant?”

He doesn’t try to hold back his amused chuckle this time at your confused expression, and the smirk that’s back on his lips is one of mild mockery.

“Of course, my dear. I happen to have a good memory. It would truly be foolish of me not to make use of it.”

Woah!!! I had so much fun writing this. I’m down bad. ♥️

#bsd fyodor #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #fyodor x you #yandere bsd #bsd

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thebadboyfanclub · 9 months ago

Text

Together As One (Daemon x Reader)

So this is more a twisted love type of hype, I hope you guys like the way I portrayed this request cause I wanted to give it more of a dark edge since Daemon is definitely a gray character. Hope you enjoy!

Mothers love their children, everyone could agree upon the unconditional love mothers held for their kind with no doubt in their hearts, songs, poems, plays, and any type of art one can think of have attempted to portray such devotion. None, however, could predict that some mothers have a certain type of fear for their child, like some whisper in the back of their heads warning them about the little glimpse in their eyes that was not like the stars but more of a scorching fire threading to burn everything.

That was the exact feeling Rhaenys had for her beloved daughter, the twin sister of Laenor, it would often baffle her how her husband could not see what was clearly there, (y/n) was always in competition with everyone about everything, the finest clothes belonged to her, she had to ride a dragon first, learn Valyrian faster.

Whilst Rhaenys prayed for her daughter's thirst to settle, the others praised her for her bravery, her determination, and her intellect, something that made (y/n) yearn for more.

“I would like to raise a toast to my dear brother, a married man to our future queen, may your wedlock be blessed with numerous children and a road paved with nothing but joy and success, Prince Daemon, hopefully you are next”

(Y/n) stood with a smile of triumph dancing on her lips before she raised her cup to gently take a sip, as she sat down Daemon's eyes followed her, he was well aware of her game, though he seemed unfazed and almost amused by her comment the truth laid somewhere deeper than the surface, not a single soul in this room would have been able to guess that the delighted twin of now future king consort was playing a game of cat and mouse with none other than prince daemon behind closed doors.

(Y/n) had been relentless in her ways to seduce Daemon, sneaking out at all hours of the night, sending people after him so she could know his whereabouts just so she could magically appear, the combination of sweet wine and her alluring voice was enough for Daemon to stumble and fall right on top of her, taking her for a ride to the addictive roads of lust.

She was stunning, flawless, a true Targaryen that screamed opulence and elegance with a face sculpted by the gods, the common folk would gush over the “oceans Angel” a nickname given by the realm for her angelic features, how would they know how dark her mind could get in order to make everyone yield before her?

“Mother”

“Dearest, how are you on this fine morrow?”

“I am well, the little one finally decided to let me get some rest”

“When I was pregnant with you I remember thinking you would kick your way out of my belly, the Apple does not fall far from the tree”

(Y/n)s daughter, Leora, leaned as much as she could to kiss her mother's cheek before she sat down next to her to break her fast, queen Alicent had already taken her seat along with her daughter Heleana and (y/n)s other son Elion, Alicent and (y/n) enjoyed each others presence, a mutual bond based on respect had been build over the years that was sealed by marrying Leora with Aegon and Elion with Heleana.

“The maester said you should drink more orange juice, it will help with the fatigue”

“As well as eat more meat, pregnancy is no easy task, you must be as strong as ever”

Alicent chimed, the birth of her second grandchild was one of the most important events, Alicent adored her first grandchild, beautiful Hael, a strong boy who was just now starting to learn how to walk, still, he had everyone wrapped around his finger.

“I appreciate your concerns but I am fine, healthy as a horse”

“It wouldn’t hurt, let us not risk it dearest”

“I thought once I get older I wouldn’t have to listen to my mother”

“Well I am sorry but that will never happen, drink”

(Y/n) had stepped up and appeared as the perfect mother, loving, kind, and caring, she did love her children, however, what she loved most was the things they could do for her, her firstborn daughter was now the wife of the king first born son, and her son was a strong, skill full knight that served the realm and came back in triumph, how could she not adore her perfect creations?

“How is the king?”

“I am afraid his health is decreasing, the maesters advise him to remain abed for the day”

“Rhaenyra will be questioned, he won’t sit this one out I am afraid”

“Ugh the precious Rhaenyra, I wish I could stay in my chambers until those god-forsaken days pass”

(Y/n)s smile was wiped from her face and in an instant it was replaced with an angry scowl, in a split second her hand had grasped her daughter, Leoras' eyes went wide with fear when they met the angry hues of her mothers.

“You mustn’t speak in such a way, I’ve taught you better”

Leora only nodded frantically, (y/n) had her own opinions over Rhaenyra, she however, knew better than to voice them, not even in such a secluded area of the palace, (y/n)s hold turned from forceful to a caress before she directed her eyes back to her friend and queen Alicent.

“Besides, the king will do as he wishes and if the gods bless him with the strength to stand he should be there, isn’t it right Alicent?”

“I couldn’t have phrased it better, my dear”

(Y/n) and Alicent were each other's shadows, one compelled the other and in the end one way or the other the result was one of their favor, (y/n) was disciplined and had mastered the act of a gracious and lovely princess, Alicent was strict and slipped under everyone’s nose as she cloaked herself with the act of a pious queen, the two of them had years up on the horse of being able to maneuver their way around the kingdom so the men would not suspect a damn thing.

Viserys had seemed to get worst which made him unable to attend even when Daemon and (y/n) went to his room to assist him, the king could not even sit up let alone walk, Daemon was disheartened, thankfully for him his dutiful and beautiful wife let him rest on her shoulder and like a soothing salve her encouraging words went over his wound of his beloved older brother nearing his end.

“My Love”

“(Y/n)? What- what has happened?”

“I apologize for waking you up my dear, it is your brother”

“Viserys? What about- no”

“My dear husband, you must be strong, I am so sorry”

(Y/n) grasped Daemon's hands tightly before she brought them up to her lips to kiss his knuckles, of course, she was one of the first to know, Alicent had rushed to her chamber and delivered the news herself, she had waited patiently as the king took his last breath, Alicent told no one, not even the maester, (y/n) had to know before anyone.

“Viserys”

Daemon had been taken over by his thoughts, they’ve always had their differences but at the end of the day, they shared the same mother and father, a bond that could never be broken, no matter how many times Daemon has run off he always ended up by Viserys side.

“My love, I understand that this is too much for you, however, we must prepare our daughter”

“What does Elora have to do with this?”

“She is to be queen, she needs her father”

“Queen? Have you gone mad?”

(Y/n) bit her bottom lip in combination with her head tilting to the side, as if nothing but a mere candle lit her face Daemon could still identify the features that he so adored but now he could not wrap his head around what was his wife suggesting.

“My lord husband, King Viserys has left us, it is only natural for his son to succeed him”

“It is expected for his firstborn, Rhaenyra, to do so, not Aegon”

“Where is the princess? But in a place where she could have visited if she wished, when has she even attempted to come and visit her beloved father who was in agony all these years? She only came when her privilege was at risk and then blamed Alicent who has served by the king's side for his illness”

“This is not a matter to discuss”

“But it is, the gods know I loved Viserys and he had been good to me, but let us not forget he killed his first wife in his desperate attempt for a male heir, he remarried and Alicent gave him an heir and a spare and still it was not good enough, he passed by you and his sons to bury his guilt by calling Rhaenyra the heir, it wasn’t because he trusted her or because he saw something in her, he passed the title on to her because he did not trust you and then because he wanted to wash the blood of queen Aemmas from his hands”

Silence fell upon them, (y/n) pulled away from her husband and headed towards the door, as his hand rested upon the handle she turned her head back to lord husband who was visibly shaken, (y/n) might appear disheartened but she could detect that her monologue had started to creep on to Daemons heart.

“I love you with all my heart, that is why I shall leave you to grieve, if you wish to run to her I will…. Understand, it is not like I ever doubted the unconditional love you have for the realm delight, now might be your chance to pursue it”

Her tone was drowning in sorrow leaving Daemon with an unwavering sense of guilt in a dark room as his wife had disappeared to place her hand over a war of fire and blood, (y/n) was correct, Daemon did love Rhaenyra, still, he did not place his flame for her over what he had built with his wife over the years.

(Y/n) walked away with a smile of triumph, she had done her part flawlessly and now she was certain that Daemon would be by her side before the crown was placed on Aegons head, however, she did not have time to waste, Alicent and (y/n) were the ones to wake the new king and queen, preparing them for what they had destined to be.

“You may enter”

“Prince Daemon is asking to see his daughter and wife, alone”

(Y/n) stopped brushing her daughter's head, carefully placing the golden brush down before she looked down at her daughter who nodded in approval.

“Let him in, do not allow anyone to disturb us”

“Right away”

The girl curtsied as quickly as possible before she disappeared only to be replaced by none other than Daemon. (Y/n) took a sharp inhale through her nose once he entered the room, preparing herself for a mental battle, surprisingly when her eyes scanned for his she was met with a certain lightness, an ease to him that caught her by a pleasant surprise.

Instinctively a small smile played on her lips, her Daemon was dressed in his black attire, leather suited him, and his hair was pulled away from his face the way she always told him to do it.

(Y/n) was not made of stone, she might play like she is though her heart skipped a beat every time she was near her lord husband, Daemon was one of the very few people that (y/n) would throw herself in the fire, even though their love felt like the flames licked her back, that sweet pain of admiration and devotion that the poets would sing and the common folk would go mad.

“My dearest loves”

Daemon declared, that their daughter rose from her chair and ran to her father, she was always the one known to succumb to emotions and this time (y/n) could not scold her over it, Leora was her father's daughter, (y/n) might not have spoken over the matter only to allow the young girl the solidarity of her feelings, inside Leora was always waiting for her father to walk through this door.

“You look beautiful, a perfect gown for the queen”

“Father I-“

“Before I handed you over to Aegon I made you a promise, do you remember it?”

“I will do anything to see you happy”

“I will put myself through war if you tell me that this is what you want, all you have to do is say it”

Daemon was no fool, he was certain that the second that crown graced his daughter's head a war would nip their heels, Rhaenyra would not go down without a fight and that meant that Daemon would have to face her in battle, a battle he was willing to put for his lovely Leora.

“I want to be queen, I want Aegon to be our king”

“Very well, I wish you a fruitful reign, may the Gods smile down upon you”

‘May the Gods have mercy on us’ he thought, with a smile he brushed away those dark thoughts only to place a kiss on his daughter's forehead, a small part of him screamed that this was the right thing, his brother never thought he was good enough, now his brother was on the ground and his daughter was crowned queen and would carry on the legacy of the Targaryen name.

“Go on now, I want to have a word with your mother”

“I will be waiting for you”

Leora informed them before she gave them the privacy Daemon desired. (Y/n) stood as still as a statue, her heart pounding on her chest as her throat grew dry and scratchy, she was the master of composure up until now, faced with the only person who could make her waver.

“My beautiful, sweet lady wife, you spoke harshly last night”

“I spoke nothing but the truth”

She threw back in a cold tone. Daemon only smirked as he started to approach her, she did not dare to move, (y/n) was comforted by his light-hearted manner though there was an underlying mischief, Daemon was playing something, and (y/n) was left trying to catch up before it is too late.

Daemon stood before her, his arm finding her forearms and giving them a gentle squeeze, his eyes gazing back at hers with a glimmer that (y/n) had grown to yearn for, she despised the fact that she had to manipulate him like this, she was left with no other choice but to do this, a side of hers cursed the day Rhaenyras and Daemons fates met, this would have been so much easier had (y/n) been the only women Daemon loved.

“You are so bright, I am almost disappointed that you didn’t foresee this”

“The war?”

“No, me, you think I have not caught wind of all the scheming against Rhaenyra? The upbringing of my daughter to become the wife of my brother's firstborn son, putting our son on the sea the minute he was born to have better knowledge of anything driftmark related to gain the favor of your father, every step you so amazingly calculated with Alicent so you can get our family here”

“You have gone mad”

“I saw behind the facade and that makes you nervous, I was there with you every step of the way you mustn’t be frightened, I let you do all this for only one reason”

“Alright, let us entertain this absurd claim of yours, what is the reason?”

“Because I love you”

(Y/n) mouth slightly parted in shock, Daemon had professed his love for her on multiple occasions but the weight on this one was different, he had pulled what she thought was the perfect cover, leaving her bare in front of him, uncovering her thirst that she had kept away from everyone.

“I love you so much that I will let my daughter become the target on Rhaenyras mind, I will go against the woman that you think threatens your position in my heart, I will put myself in the sword before I let her even get one strand of your hair because you and our daughter want this”

“And you don’t? You always held a grudge over the fact that Viserys never declared you as his heir”

“My brother is dead now and because of you our child wishes to be a queen, I picked you as my second wife because I saw your strength, your determination, you need to come on top, that is the Targaryen fire through and through”

“You truly mean all this?”

“You are my lady wife, you gave me a home, now it is time to show the realm that we are the rightful heirs of the throne, together as one”

(Y/n) reached daemons lips for a passionate kiss, his hands slid down to her waist and pulled her as close as humanly possible, sharing this moment meant everything to (y/n), she had him devotedly by her side, he saw her true nature and walked straight into her fire, surrendering in her and even shielding her and her family.

“Let us find out daughter, I want us to be the ones to place the crown on her head”

“I wouldn’t dare let anyone else have that honor”

Requests are open!

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loveemagicpeace · 3 months ago

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Neptune & illusion

Here I am describing the things that are confusing and illusory that Neptune can bring. Neptune, the planet of dreams, illusions, spirituality, and the unseen, governs the realms of imagination, intuition, and the subconscious. Named after the Roman god of the sea, Neptune’s energy is fluid, mystical, and elusive, often associated with the dissolution of boundaries and the desire to merge with the divine or the infinite. In astrology, Neptune is linked to creativity, compassion, idealism, and escapism, but also to confusion, deception, and disillusionment. Neptune rules over the realms of fantasy, creativity, and artistic expression. It inspires visions of what could be, often fueling dreams, art, and music.

One of Neptune’s challenging qualities is its association with illusion, confusion, and deception. Neptune can create a fog that obscures reality, leading to misunderstandings or fantasies that do not align with the truth. It rules over situations where things are not as they seem, and can bring about disillusionment when the idealized version of reality falls apart. This planet can also represent escapism, whether through daydreaming, addiction, or avoiding life’s harsher realities.

This planet is associated with addiction, whether to substances, fantasies, or behaviors that allow people to avoid dealing with reality. Neptune’s influence can create a longing to escape the harshness of life, making it easy to fall into patterns of avoidance or self-destructive habits.

Neptune in 1st house- The first house represents your personality, appearance and energy. Therefore, Neptune in the first house will literally be a part of you. Your personality will be dreamy and you may spend a lot of time in your head or in your world. You like to live somewhere else because it helps you not to face reality so much. For example: you are having coffee with a group of people and everyone is talking about a topic, but you are just sitting drinking coffee and daydreaming and you are in your own world. With Neptune here, you turn off the entire reality and the world around you. People find you special, mysterious, dreamy and can often idealize your personality and you. Many people find you as someone who is like from a cartoon, infinite, special. With this placement, you can also manifest a lot because you give an illusion about yourself and your life to others that may not exist, but others believe it. You can become too idealistic about yourself and your appearance. You can fall into too much illusion about yourself. This "Neptunian" persona can be a double-edged sword—while it can make them seem alluring, it can also cause confusion or misunderstanding in relationships, as others might see them as something they are not.

Neptune in 2nd house- you can dream a lot about money, wealth and material things. Here you can be careful who you lend money to or tell them about, because you can run into people who rob you. your inner feelings can sometimes be very strange and illusory, maybe you think you feel a certain way but you really don't. Neptune can create illusions or confusion around money, self-worth, and material possessions. The illusion lies in valuing things that may seem important in the moment but are unstable or unrealistic long-term, leading to potential financial instability or confusion about true self-worth.

Neptune in 3rd house- your thoughts can be dreamy many times. You often feel unaccepted by your relatives and you may also have an incomprehensible relationship with your siblings. Many times very strange things can happen to you when it comes to relatives or siblings. One of them could be weird or have a mental illness or the things you learn about them are very shocking. It can happen to you that sometimes you think that some things are completely different than you thought they were. You can be firmly convinced of something and then find out that it was never true.

Neptune in 4th house-a lot of strange things can happen here at home. A home can be full of mystery and confusion. Maybe when you grow up you can find out things about your mother that you didn't expect. Your mother can be a mystical, mysterious woman, maybe her personality can be covered. You can live in a house where strange things happen and are somehow inexplicable. There’s often a deep longing for an ideal home life that feels peaceful and spiritually fulfilling. The illusion lies in the tendency to escape into fantasies about family or emotional safety, sometimes avoiding confronting difficult truths about their home environment or past.

Neptune in 5th house- your jealousy of your partner can overwhelm you many times. You can imagine things that your partner has never done. You have the feeling that your partner is having an affair with someone else, but this is not happening at all. This placement can be suspicious when it comes to dating and love life. Your partner can also leave your life without knowing it, maybe while you are on a trip. They may fall for unavailable or elusive people, drawn to the dream of perfect love, which leads to heartbreak when the illusion fades. This placement can also blur boundaries when it comes to pleasure-seeking, sometimes leading to indulgence in escapist behaviors like substance use, risky romantic flings, or over-identifying with fantasy worlds.

Neptune in 6th house-you can imagine an illness or think you have an illness that you don't really have. Here you have to take care of your body's health, and it's difficult because you can have a different idea of your body than it really is. Illnesses can come from your subconscious and you can also heal yourself. The idea of a certain body can sometimes confuse you or you have the feeling that your body looks different than it really is. Anorexia can be common here (but it does not necessarily depend on other aspects).

Neptune in 7th house- it can happen that your partner suddenly disappears or leaves your life and you don't even know why. It's like waking up in the morning and your partner is no longer in your apartment and you start looking for them everywhere and you can't find them. As if they disappearance was very unusual and strange. However, since Neptune is the planet of illusions, it is possible to feel that everything in the relationship has always been okay and that the relationship has always been very good, but in reality you may find out that the partner did not like many things. The relationship itself can be very illusory, so you need to be careful not to get too involved.

Neptune in 8th house- can create a fog around emotional depth and intimacy. You may have a tendency to idealize your emotional or sexual relationships, seeing your partners as more perfect or spiritually connected than they are in reality. You might be more prone to fantasies about life after death, the unknown, or spiritual enlightenment, and this could skew your perception of reality. Neptune can create an unconscious fear of betrayal or abandonment, which may lead you to be paranoid or overly trusting in relationships.

Neptune in 9th house-There can be a sense of disillusionment or confusion regarding organized religions or traditional belief systems, leading to a more personalized or eclectic spiritual path. Neptune's influence can blur the lines between reality and illusion. There is a risk of becoming lost in fantasies or unrealistic expectations about education, travel, or spiritual pursuits. One of the primary illusions with Neptune in the 9th house is the idealization of spiritual beliefs or teachers. There can be a strong desire to escape into distant lands in search of freedom or spiritual awakening, but this can sometimes lead to an unrealistic view of the world. People with this placement might experience a sense of "spiritual wanderlust," constantly seeking but never fully finding the ultimate truth they crave.

Neptune in 10th house- You might struggle with finding clear direction in your professional life. Neptune can cloud your judgment, leading to unrealistic or overly idealistic goals. Neptune can cause you to project an unclear image, leading to misunderstandings or misinterpretations of your abilities. There is a tendency to idealize certain career roles or to feel a spiritual calling, but without proper grounding, they can become disillusioned when reality falls short of their fantasies. However, you must be careful not to lose yourself in escapist fantasies or idealize certain roles that might not be grounded in reality.

Neptune in 11th house-You might place your friends on a pedestal, seeing them through rose-colored glasses and ignoring their flaws. Neptune can blur boundaries, causing you to be too trusting or giving in your friendships. Neptune can cause you to be overly idealistic about your hopes for the future. They can easily lose themselves in the needs or expectations of others, sometimes becoming a "savior" or martyr within their social group. Friends may project their own fantasies or expectations onto them, which can create confusion or misunderstanding in these relationships. Be careful of friends which are false.

Neptune in 12th house- You may find it difficult to confront your own fears, trauma, or emotional pain, preferring to avoid them altogether. This avoidance can manifest as addictions or unhealthy habits, used to numb yourself from the emotional intensity of your inner world. You might not be fully aware of your hidden fears or suppressed emotions, leading to confusion or self-sabotage

-Rebekah🍀🧚🏼‍♀️🫧

#astrology #energy #zodiac signs #planets #neptune in houses

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slytherin-princess-x · 3 days ago

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Slytherinmas day 27

Scars (thanks for the idea @smut-anarchy)

Soft Mattheo riddle x reader

Warnings: just fluff

The soft glow of the setting sun filtered through the window, casting warm shadows across the room. The familiar scent of cigarette smoke mingled with the faint trace of cologne and something uniquely Mattheo—something that felt like home. I nestled deeper into him, my back resting comfortably against his solid frame. Mattheo's grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, and the lack of a shirt left his toned torso on display, the muscles rippling subtly with every movement.His arm was draped around my shoulders, fingers gently rubbing my arm in a soothing rhythm that made me feel safe. I glanced up at him, my heart fluttering at the sight of that lazy grin, cigarette hanging from his lips. There was a certain charm to his nonchalance, the way he didn’t try to impress anyone, yet somehow always managed to.

My gaze fell to the scar that ran down his torso, tracing the line with my fingertips. It started just beneath his ribs and led down to his v-line. He shivered at my touch, and I couldn’t help but smile at the effect I had on him. I looked up to find his brow raised, a mix of amusement and curiosity in his eyes.

“Does it hurt?,” I said quietly, continuing to explore the dips and curves of his abs, as if I were mapping out a treasure map only I could see. Each ridge was like a secret waiting to be uncovered, and I couldn’t resist placing soft kisses along the path my fingers had traced.

He let out a soft chuckle, the kind that made my insides tingle. “Nah, not anymore, love”. I couldn’t stop myself from nibbling at his bicep, feeling the hard muscle beneath my lips. I knew I should probably stop before he told me to, but there was something about the way he looked at me, all innocent and amused, that made me want to keep going.

“Y/N,” he started, the warning laced in his tone. But then he paused, caught in the trap of my gaze. I looked up at him, my eyes wide and innocent, almost pleading. His resolve crumbled, and he let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head as he took a drag from his cigarette.

In a playful burst of spontaneity, I bit down gently on his bicep, my teeth grazing his skin just enough to elicit a surprised grunt from him. I looked up, my expression innocent, eyes wide with faux innocence that I knew was a poor disguise for the mischief swirling inside me.

“You’re an odd one, princess,” he said, a grin breaking across his face. The nickname sent a thrill through me, an endearment wrapped in his teasing tone.

“Odd? Me?” I feigned offense, pouting for effect. “I’m just appreciating the art that is Mattheo Riddle.”

“Art?” he echoed, tilting his head. “More like a war zone.”

I laughed, knowing the truth behind his words. He had been through so much, yet here he was, a mix of danger and allure. “Every scar tells your stories,” I said, tracing my fingers along another one, this one curving just under his arm.

“Some stories are better left untold,” he replied, but the grin on his face betrayed him.

“I wanna hear ok your stories, good or bad” I said with a gentle smile, pressing another kiss to his bicep, earning a soft groan from him. I loved these moments, the playful intimacy we shared, the unspoken bond that connected us.

@yootvi @redeemingvillains @littlemadamred @smut-anarchy

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doumadono · 2 years ago

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Upper Moons 1-3 & submissive s/o - NSFW headcanons

Requested by: anonymous

MASTERLIST

Akaza

Witnessing his significant other in lingerie would swiftly provoke Akaza's transformation into a more dominant figure within the confines of the bedroom. The mere sight would ignite an intense flame within him, prompting Akaza to initiate with gradual and tender actions, consisting of gentle caresses and delicate kisses

Initially, he experienced significant unease, concerned that he might be pressuring his significant other into a submissive role and worried that there were certain actions he shouldn't take. However, after you clarified your desires and expressed how genuinely thrilled it made you, his apprehension transformed into excitement

Akaza would have a daddy kink for sure. Call him daddy once and it would instantly transform sex from vanilla to dominant. His fingers lightly caressing your backside before he spanks your ass harshly. “Are you going to be a good girl for daddy?”

Demanding you get onto your knees to suck his dick, he's gently intertwining his fingers in your hair, he delicately adjusts the angle of your head as he face-fucks you; the sound of you gagging around his dick would really spur him on

Akaza would definitely catch you off guard by grabbing your wrists in his hands and holding them above your head/behind your body. Tying you up would be one of his biggest kinks

The noises his s/o makes would really excite him as he teases your body. Akaza's primary motivation for enjoying a dominant position lies in the significant ego boost he experiences while observing you struggle beneath him

If Akaza was being excessively rough with his s/o, he would still take measures to ensure their well-being. He would occasionally squeeze your hips in a reassuring manner, checking for any signs of pain or concern through eye contact

Kokushibo

Kokushibo's vulgar discourse would undoubtedly be characterized by its ruthlessly crude nature. “Is that all you can handle, Y/N? I think you can take more than that.” or “Look at your wet pussy, is that for me?”

In an intimate moment with Kokushibo, he prefers to maintain eye contact. If you were to avert your gaze or close your eyes, he might respond by pausing or adjusting the pace, emphasizing the importance of maintaining that connection. “Look at me, babygirl.” This reason is why he wouldn’t be into blindfolds. Observing your eyes as you reach climax is undeniably alluring

Kokushibo's inclinations would lean towards the practice of edging, finding pleasure in the tantalizing art of delaying gratification. This demon, known for his unwavering pursuit of power and pleasure, would likely derive immense satisfaction from testing the limits of his s/o. “Not yet, princess. Do you think you deserve to come? Beg for it.”

Kokushibo would catch you by surprise when he thrusts back into you, starting a harsh pace as he rubs quick circles around your clit to try and get you to climax faster. “Come for me, Y/N.” The sound of his deep voice adding to the sensation as your climax washes over you

Kokushibo, being dominant, prioritizes ensuring his partner's pleasure by focusing on multiple orgasms. He doesn't give you a chance to settle down after your first climax, relentlessly pursuing a second one for you

His favourite place to come is inside you. He would bite down on your neck as he fucks you, his orgasm approaching

Douma

Challenging or responding with sass to Douma would often lead to him asserting his dominance swiftly. It wouldn't take long for him to take control, leaving little room for defiance

Douma possesses captivating and intense eyes, and engaging in eye contact with his s/o is one of the most exhilarating aspects of his dominance in the bedroom. It's a powerful and swift method for arousing his partner, and he's well aware of its effectiveness. Moreover, the act of maintaining eye contact significantly arouses Douma himself, adding to the mutual excitement between them

He takes immense pleasure in undressing his s/o, relishing the captivating view of you standing bare before him while he remains mostly clothed. Douma's hands glide across your entire form, delicately tracing each curve

One of his favourite things to do would be to tie his s/o up and/or blindfold you. When you're blindfolded, your other senses become more acute and sensitive and Douma loves running his hands along your body while you’re blindfolded, randomly licking or sucking exposed parts of your skin

Douma finds great delight in teasing his s/o on numerous occasions. He takes pleasure in playfully taunting you, often with a mischievous smirk adorning his face. Douma's teasing nature is fueled by a combination of genuine affection and a desire to provoke entertaining reactions from his partner. His remarks can range from playful banter to more provocative teasing, carefully testing your limits and pushing your buttons in a calculated manner

Expect edging or orgasm denial - partly because he enjoys watching his s/o squirm in ecstasy beneath him, relishing the pleasure they experience. Consequently, he's determined to prolong the intimate moments and not let them come to an end too quickly

Giving his s/o oral is one of Douma's favourite things to do. The way you moan and buck your hips underneath him as he licks your slit, sucking your clit into his mouth - it's driving him nuts

He’ll definitely make you beg before penetrating you, adding to his love for being the dominant one. “Tell me what you want, princess. Use your words."

When Douma is fucking his s/o, he’ll maintain eye contact but will also over-stimulate you by rubbing your clit. "That's my little lotus, I know you can take it, just relax."

Douma appreciates moments of physical closeness and intimacy, but he may not seek out cuddling immediately after sex. While he may not engage in traditional cuddling, he expresses his affection and care for his partner through other means - this could include gentle touches and whispers of affection

#douma headcanons #akaza headcanons #kokushibo headcanons #kny headcanons #douma #akaza #kokushibo #kokushibo x reader #douma x reader #akaza x reader #akaza x reader smut #douma x reader smut #kokushibo x reader smut #request completed #douma x you #kokushibo x you #akaza x you #kny imagines

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sir-sunawani · 14 days ago

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Starling

Omegaverse

Alpha!Crocodile/Omega!Reader

Inspired by @hannahbarberra162's Emperor's Prize

CW: A/B/O, yandere vibes (unsure if full blown yan yet), dub con (possible non-con I am so by the seat of my pants with this), rough sex, rough everything kind of, mdni

Chapter 3: Whims

“No! No!” You fight the hand gripping your wrist, but you can’t stop Crocodile from tossing you into the cold shower. The icy water makes you screech and you scramble to get away from it, but he steps into the space with you and drags you back under it.

“Stay.” He commands, a sound in his voice you find yourself compelled to obey. You could, you think, step out of the freezing water, but the command aside, you were certain he’d just throw you right back in. This was less a battle of wills, and more a lesson in strength.

He’s rough with you, cleaning the couple spots you missed without any concern beyond getting them clean. Fortunately, you were very thorough with your privates, so he wasn’t coarsely scrubbing you in those places, but you’d missed your back a little - he’d even shown you in a mirror before dragging you back into the bathroom. You pleaded with him the whole way to at least turn on a little of the hot water, but he hadn’t said anything.

You’d never been treated so roughly outside of your heats, but once he was satisfied with your cleanliness this time, he shut the water off and threw a massive, fluffy, warm towel at you.

“Dry up.” He says, peeling the wet clothes off his skin. You can feel irritation rolling off him, the garments falling to the floor in heavy wet piles.

Small scars cross over corded muscles and a body that looks like it could snap you in half with hardly a concern. You try not to stare, but the shapes of his muscles and the elegant way he moved was alluring. You took care in how you looked and moved because you had spent years being a piece of art.

Surely he did so for a different reason. You couldn’t imagine he had the patience to put on a show for anyone’s amusement but his own.

“Tomorrow I’ll teach you how to shower efficiently.” His tone leaves no room for argument, even if you bristle at the implication that you cannot bathe yourself properly. “You took an hour to do a mediocre job. Unsurprising, since you had servants until just today.”

An idle hand, resting on your head for a second, is warm, but it’s hard to say if he means it condescendingly or reassuringly.

“Grab a shirt from the dresser by the bed, or sleep naked.” He says, stepping into the shower for himself.

You wrap your hair in the towel and walk out into the room. The dresser by the bed is heavy and wooden and oddly threatening just like everything else in the room. As though the furniture was meant to defend as much as the walls. But it’s quality work and the doors open easily.

Rows of large white shirts hang neatly. There’s no obvious difference from one to the next so you grab on and put it on.

You have to roll the cuffs up so much they almost feel like shackles against your arms. And even buttoning it to the collar it almost slips off your shoulders, but it’s enough to get you through the night, and the shirt’s bottom hem went past your knees like pajamas.

You almost had to climb into the bed to get into it, but it was every bit the kind of luxury you were used to once you got into it. With an added benefit of being quite large. It stirred something in you because it felt like a nest just as it was, even if you weren’t in need of one right now.

It didn’t take long for you to find a comfortable spot and begin to drift off. The alpha had been right, the day had been long and too full of things, and having all that paint off your skin felt nice.

Extra nice knowing it wasn’t likely to be reapplied tomorrow, since he’d already shown a disdain toward it.

Crocodile’s POV

Haughty, arrogant, and full of more fire than he expected from an omega, you did intrigue him. Everyone who knew anything about omegas and alphas, knew about the Starling. Though most of those not living on the Red Line viewed you with pity more than anything else.

The art piece of the Celestial Dragons. An omega with a scent so intoxicating she was denied physical contact with anyone who wasn’t also an omega, in some misguided belief that it would keep her pure.

Instead they broke a perfectly good omega and then threw you away when the inevitable happened.

He lights a cigar, sitting at his desk. Your scent was already improved with that paint no longer on your skin, the cigar was more for his own sanity than anything else. A habit developed to keep him from lowering himself to the mindless posturing alphas fell victim to over a few sniffs of pheromones. If he was going to be angry, it was because he decided to be. If he was going to be violent it was because he chose so for himself.

So much success was credited to alphas simply by virtue of them being born such, and it rankled him. He’d met plenty of completely useless alphas in his life. Men and women who leveraged what meager success they’d garnered in life solely on the luck of their second sex.

He would’ve stood above them all even if he’d been born a beta, as far as he was concerned.

But you were already testing that.

By the sands he wanted you to strike him. He wanted to know what the sting of your defiance would feel like, but you stayed your hand at the sight of him. You’d nearly knocked Buggy off his feet, according to the clown. Something that had earned you points in his book. Anyone who feared or respected that buffoon was a useless fool. He had little value behind the smokescreen he provided for Crocodile and Mihawk.

The swordsman wasn’t an alpha. Dracule Mihawk was an omega, probably the world’s biggest secret, save for the location of the One Piece. Medicines and sheer will had kept him hidden until he found someone who could - and would - remove the parts of him that made him an omega.

Given omegas value to the WG, that was one ballsy fucking doctor. The only lingering effect is that every twenty eight days, he has something like a heat. It lasts maybe an hour, it’s the only time Crocodile can smell him, and it’s a rancid scent to him, but no one else seems to pick up on it.

For Mihawk it is rough. Enough that he wasn’t able to keep it from Crocodile, but now he wonders. A half-broken heat that requires no alpha and passes within the hour was that much of an ordeal for a renowned and respected swordsman.

What hell was it like for you? Writhing for hours, if not days, begging for an alpha to guide you through the pain and desperation of your heat. Only to be covered in slop and left in a cage so that others could be entertained by your wailing scent and savage song.

But now he had a decision to make.

Even a broken Starling was still an untouched omega. You were still a piece of divinity from the Red Line, a bird of the gods. He could trade you for several tribute vessels and still not get your full value.

Or…

Your POV

You were asleep before the shower turns off, but a shift in the bed wakes you up. Turning toward him, you notice he’s well beyond dry, with just pants on. You aren’t sure how long you slept, the room was dark when you entered and is dark still. You don’t know if he kept working for hours after his shower or not.

You start to move out of the bed, when that commanding voice wraps around your throat again.

“Stay.” He says it with less force than he’d used in the shower, but you’re no less sure you don’t have space to disobey. “You’ve only been asleep a couple hours.”

You shift to the far end of the bed, more because it’s not yours, but you’re not even laid down completely before lazy swirls of sand pull you into the middle of the bed. The chest you're tucked against is warm, more solid wall than human body you think, but the arm tucked under your head puts you in a comfortable position.

Comfortable enough physically, but you can’t help the fear that shivers in your muscles. The tension that won’t release from how close he was. You’d snuggled and cuddle with your omega attendants before, finding warmth and solace in the embrace of one another when none was found anywhere else.

But this was different. The sweet scent of the room was his. It was his scent that filled the breaths you were trying to control. It was comforting in a way you didn’t want it to be, terror lingering in the folly that came with trust. You were a work of art, not something to be cared for beyond ensuring you could perform.

Even broken they hadn’t given you the relief of finding an alpha, and this one knows what a piece of art you are. You won’t stay, you’ll be sold as any piece of art would be on a black market.

He puts his hand over your mouth, holding your face in place with ease, as if to prove a point. His baritone voice is quiet and smooth, clear and deliberate against your ear.

“If I wished to break you beneath me, you would shivering under the shower right now, the remainder of my desires draining into the sewers.” He explains, and for a moment the understanding makes you tense, but the heat, and firm weight of his hand on your face was oddly comforting. “Relax, and sleep, I promise nothing will happen.”

You almost wanted to say something about the promise of a pirate, but the warmth from his body behind you, and the way he tugged the shirt you were wearing down a little before settling his hand on your stomach helped. It was an odd compromise, but since there was nothing to be done about it, you didn’t try to fight it.

Sleep gripped you just as tightly the second time and you fell into a deep slumber. Your dreams were full of sand, but it was the lazy shifting of large dunes, and clear blue skies that were filled with a sun that was pleasant instead of oppressive.

When you wake, you’re warm, but it’s all softness and blankets, and the steady scratch of pen against paper is already filling your ears. Your eyes open slowly, the room just as dim as it was, a little more light gathered at the desk that’s not too far away. Far enough away that no one coming into this office/bedroom combination would notice you.

So long as you didn’t move or make noise.

“Welcome to the land of the living.” Crocodile says gruffly. With no one else that you can see in the room, he must be talking to you, which means he’s aware that you’re awake. “Someone will be in to take your measurements, and clothes will be made for you. Ones that you will be able to take on and off by yourself.”

“Why?” You question, pulling yourself from the warmth of the covers and getting out of the bed.

“Would you rather them require attendants?”

“No. I mean why do this for me?” You clarify. There’s nothing in your voice, save for a bit of confusion, but you understand your situation clearly. “I am broken art.” Standing by the side of his desk you watch him work. “I am not ungrateful for your kindness, but I don’t understand it. I am nothing but a risk for you and yours.”

“A risk?” He spares you a look.

“The Celestial Dragons are petulant children. They do not like their things to be taken away unless they break them directly.” You explain. “I broke myself and so I must be punished. Fixed, to be broken in a way that is controlled by them.”

His brows raise, and you shrug.

“I’m not stupid. I knew my place. I endured because I thought it would be rewarded.” Sighing, you roll your eyes. “And here I am. The marines will come, maybe even those creepy Cipher Pol agents. Any weapon the bleating cries of the baby Celestials can command.

“If for no other reason than to tear me apart.”

Crocodile is silent for a moment before returning to his paperwork. “You’re my guest until I decide what to do with you.” He begins to explain. “So I will treat you how I please.”

You watch him work silently for a long time. He offers you nothing, and doesn’t waste his breath prompting you. Instead he allows you to observe him as you please. Maybe it’s because he’s an alpha, or maybe it’s because he is simply who he is, but you feel like he doesn’t fear the marines or Cipher Pol.

And that lack of fear is not empty, or ill-informed bravado.

“I have lived at the whims of far crueler masters than you, I suppose.” You muse softly, before stepping away from his desk and sitting on a small sofa near the fireplace.

#reader insert #x reader #omega!reader #sir crocodile #one piece #mdni #yandere #a/b/o #omegaverse #Starling

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