#hes just. hes the most character of all time

[kooyabooya]

INTERLUDE

m reader x haewon // 9k words

You’ll give credit where it’s due.

If not for her, you wouldn’t be here - and if not for you, she would have quit the logistical side of the show business a long, long time ago. 

She's written her own sweet, tragic, but beautiful tale of madness; willing to stay amidst the whirlwinds of shit she’s put herself through, and you can somewhat see as to why. 

It’s when she’s let herself into the space of your apartment, hours past of the usual and typical workday. Most of the reasons in this case have their own tales and periods of reflection the next morning - though, a common thread of events that you’ve been accustomed to is the trail of her heels leading a path to the couch, her handbag tossed off to the opposite end, sinking into the cushions. She’s tired, and very unbothered. 

You’re doing your own pat down not far from her. A jacket’s tossed onto the nearby chair of your dining table; the usual essentials of your phone, wallet, and one of many pairs of glasses also find their place away from your reach. 

“Since when the hell did you snag my keys from me?” You ask, patting down the quartet of pockets to realize the sudden item wasn’t part of the things you rummaged off your body. 

“It’s called sleight of hand, dear.” Haewon says, a phone spinning in the air and to a nearby pillow, “That’s what happens when you leave a key with me after our last outing. Have someone to blame? Let that be yourself.” 

“I was wondering why you were taking longer getting out of the car.” 

“Girls like to take their sweet time.” 

“Your point being?” 

“My point?” She sits up and leans forward, diverting her attention towards one of the gacha items that you got as a gift from one of her clients - a token of gratitude, for being wonderful with me - you recall the memory for a split second, and Haewon keeps on flipping it around between her fingers. “Don’t get too pressed now. It’s not like you would be locked out of your house for that long. Besides, your landlord’s seen me with you more times than he can count. If I were to ask him for the master key, he’d probably say yes.” 

“Speculation,” you breathe, “Honestly, you can try, and I think you could be on his good side for all I know.” 

A few wisps of her hair fall far off the side, and she pulls it back with a single finger. Even in the dimmest of lightings, you can still see the small twinge of her nose pulling back, flaring her nostrils. Then she flicks her eyes back toward you, hooking. “You’ve always let me lead the way, and you’re following not far behind.” 

You’re tending to the cuffs of your shirt, rolling them up just below the elbows. “I do a whole lot more than just my job.” 

“Tch,” Haewon’s got the tip of her tongue on her upper teeth. “You know well enough that it cuts both ways.” 

Almost as if this was practiced on cue, these sliding strides you make as Haewon picks herself up from her seat, it’s like two characters taking center stage. The lighting’s barely peeking through for you to see where everything’s leveled. Doesn’t matter how much effort you put into it, Haewon’s frame is the only thing you see, the weight on your shoulders start to droop from the imaginary weight on them. You can probably settle with how the luminating radiance of the night sky showers her porcelain skin or the way her silhouette molds itself in the meshing colors of this cozy dark blue pooling through behind her. There’s also the fleeting realization that this is your space that she’s nestling in. But you can’t ignore the sudden occasional chill that sweeps through every time she walks in - even when it’s after hours, the effect is still in play. 

Haewon’s treating another few strands of her hair behind her ear before looking down at the small toy on your table top. “Not a bad idea for you to start a collection going.” 

You glance over her shoulder and pull a firm grin across your face. “You know, I was a bit perplexed in why she gave that to me in the first place - after I politely refused so many times.” A shake of your head and a sigh follows instantly after. “But the more I look at it, it’s pretty cute to have. Brings a whole lot of variety in the place right off the bat.” 

Haewon dips her head down, hiding a subtle smirk when touches the tips of her socks on the floor. “I know that you fancy your books and everything but, I was happy that you took her gift in the end.” 

“Expecting me to just say no?” 

“Blind boxes are a life lesson too. People expect one thing and when they don’t get what they want, they’re pretty torn to whether to be happy or not with what they pulled. Now that I think about it, the same lesson can be seen in Forrest Gump when he’s sitting on the bench with the old lady.” 

“A lot of people can resonate with Forrest in that moment. Probably because almost everybody’s got something that they didn’t want in the first place, and I’ll take your word for it.” You slide your hands into your pockets, rolling your shoulders back. “Makes people appreciate the many things they have.” 

Haewon cocks her head towards her left, bringing it back upright once her body’s facing yours. You’re holding your breath here for a second, swallowing a lump of nervousness down your throat. She’s got it all: the intellect, the beauty, the poise. Each and every single one of those thoughts crosses both ways in your mind, it’s been like that since you got paired with her. The authenticity of her presence doubles down what’s written on paper. Like any fool in this scenario, you carry on, thinking about all of the things you’d never thought you’d do with her - the way she tries to hide the growing blush on her face when your arms hold her, how her eyelids lower their guard when you’re closing the proximity to mere inches, how she sighs with a finger pressed to her temple before whipping some of her hair back - adorable, and perfect. There’s really no other way to describe it, or her; even if she’s not very adamant into accepting the meaningful compliments. 

“Maybe you’re right.” Her small frame nestles itself easily at your front and she’s happily dancing her fingers at the pointe end of your necktie, fiddling along with the button beneath it. You’re deluding yourself at the imaginary tug she has on you and she’s barely laid a finger. “Scratch that, I wholeheartedly agree.” 

You’d wish that you could make a quick snapshot back to the very time you first unraveled her in your home, on an evening whim just like this. The proposition of pulling up a mental calendar and ripping off the pages backwards to a full two years of working with her. Though, you’re able to automatically deduce the fact of the time you and her actually spent working together - a good portion of those cases in the sheets which is worth considering - but despite all that, there’s a good report to draw up in your head where the times flowed in fluctuations, much like in a spectrogram. Some of the days with her peaked higher than the rest, and others were on the opposite end of the spectrum. That’s just how this rapport- this relationship was. 

Haewon never really dabbled with the idea of putting a label on this ‘thing’ you have with her. 

It could be a relationship, or maybe it couldn’t. She would always immediately shut down that thought circling around your brain. 

A tried and true method in getting your hopes up. And each and every time she shot your heart down. It would send you in limbo for what feels like an endless string of days, the firm tone with her delivery very clear and straight to the point. You can’t help yourself in waiting for something to change; heck, it’s possibly everything you ever wanted with her. 

It also didn’t help when the people in your inner circle were already in their own walks of life, blooming into something beautiful with their significant others; while you’re sitting off to the side, watching them from a distance as it feels like with every passing day, you’re falling further and further behind. There isn’t enough space in your journal, let alone the selection of drinks to choose from after being downed, but the feeling remains all the same - it’s a harrowing want to fill that depression oh-so desperately. 

“Whatever happened to ‘keeping things professional’?” Dipping your head down as the tip of your nose hovers right above her head, catching the first few whiffs of that oceanic scent used in her shampoo. “Wasn’t it your words exclusively that we would stop what we’re doing now? At this moment?” 

This time, you were the one to raise that wall up, hoping that it’ll stick after being broken down so many times. 

“Mine?” Haewon blurts out once her hands finally reach to the lines of your shoulders, palms sliding along the fabric of your shirt. “What about it? Don’t try to flip this back on me when we were just talking outside in the staircase and then you decided to push me against the door, perch my chin up and-” 

“Haewon.” 

“One night. That one night. You-” 

“Haewon.” You know that she’s primarily the one who likes to repeat herself at times to get her point across, but not tonight.

She sighs, head falling forward in your chest. “Alright, I’ll bite. Yes, those were my words, and I stand by them. She’s trying her hardest to ignore your overwhelming stature, because she knows your truth; she knows, and knows, and knows.“But that doesn’t mean that what I tell you is enough to sway your mind, nor your choice.”

Her words tell you one thing, but her body welled up against yours tells you another. 

“Haewon,” you repeat again, blinking it through. Your voice slightly chokes up when her thumb skates up the line of your jaw, letting her pull get the best of you, breath canvassing the slope where your chin and neck meet. “You’re not helping yourself here.” 

“It’s been a long day,” she admits, kissing you foolishly, her fingers slither to the back of your head. Your hands have a mind of their own while it tries to scrounge up what’s left of her melting figure, humming gently into your skin. “You could’ve like- taken me home, or something. Rather than bring me here, because we both know how this story goes.” 

“Don’t get all sensical with me now,” you say to her, hand quick to her wrist in an attempt to stop her, but she’s seen that card played before. “You were the one to tell me to get the hell out of the office as fast as we could, and here we are.” 

Haewon flashes her eyes at you, narrowing her expression with the simple tilt of her head. “I guess you’re right. Either I call a cab home or have you as my personal driver. Looks like the second option was the best one to pick between the two.” 

“You did look tired.” 

“Because I am.” Her eyebrows ruffle against each other when you drop the blunt response as she returns to the slacked neck along with her wrists. “After the shitstorm with Bae, and then with Sullyoon? God, don’t even get me started. You were there when everything went down.” 

“In fact I was.” 

She scowls with a much more dragged out tone with her voice, the stress pressing down on her lips returning to their familiar parted place. “I’m trying so hard to not think about it, but it’s just- ugh.” 

“A problem to be dealt with tomorrow,” you tell her, hands bringing her closer to your waist. “Just don’t think.” 

“Easy for you to say.” Haewon deadpans, her face shifting flat with dead eyes. “And it’s easier for it to be said than done.” 

“Why not do it, then?” 

“Huh?” 

“I’m asking you to not focus on work for once, genius.” 

“This is me not focusing on work,” she says, pouting, “you’re the one who’s not letting me go in the first place.” 

You manage to look away for a quick second, closing your eyes to fight back the growing cringe rising on your face. “Says the one who waltzed into my house and arms right now.” 

Haewon lets out another dry laugh, resting the side of her face below your collar, pulling down on the slightly untied knot. “Well, I guess I can let you have that over me. I’ll admit that.” 

A deep inhale puffs up your chest as you’re carding your fingers into those coffee brown locks of her hair, massaging her temple. 

“Consider that to be one of your few wins against my arguments. Why bother tell you my personal thoughts about the details we talked about in the meetings earlier, or even in the office.” She sighs again deeply, burrowing herself into your embrace. “What I would do to give that pretty dumbass a-” 

“I’m pretty sure you’ve already said that to her earlier, by the way.” 

Haewon looks up again, recalling for a quick second, closing her lips before sounding a simple hum. “Right, I guess I did.” 

“You don’t have to handle this all by yourself, you know.” 

“What if I want to, hm?” She beams. The flip in her mood is always an anomaly in the way that she’s brushing herself up closer to you. “You know my business - my affairs, but I didn’t tell you all of them.” 

You’re well familiar with the playing field she’s setting up here. It’s a battleground that’s seen it all between the two of you, the losses outweighing the victories (and by an overwhelming margin on her end too). She’s always the one to initiate, to set up, your thoughts already getting ahead with the same downward tilt of your head, hands caressing the fabric of her skirt, finding a familiar hold of her hips like one would always do at the start of every slow dance. 

Of course you stay silent, blinking. “Well- Haewon, I’ve got no other choice but to hear you ramble all about them, since it’s my job.” 

“You know most of them.” 

“Like you said: most.” 

Haewon rests herself into you, the lines of tape gradually coming undone. The scent of her shampoo hits your nose a little bit harder this time, her palms sliding up across your chest again. She innocently tilts her head up, parting her lips; tiny, rosy, and dangerously inviting. You have no other thought filling your mind but to lift her up and capture her all to yourself. 

Her lips are like putty - easy to form and mold into the shape that you like. But you pull yourself back, a last line of defense before her eyes and hands have their own say. “Could you say that this is a choice too?” 

“Hm.” She tilts herself upwards into the line of your neck, each quick kiss sending both your heart and mind into echelons higher than cloud nine, melting with every touch until she has your head in between her palms, holding you gently. The blinks she gives are slow, and her breath hitting your face leaves you to your own devices. “What you do with me is always a choice.” 

You retreat for a moment, pulling yourself far away where you can, Haewon’s body still within reach in your arms, forming a wall of air between the space of your chest and hers. “I feel like what we do is already risky as it seems, no? Sure, we see each other on a regular basis, deal with what needs to be done with the day, talking to clients, making sure things are right for the events, going back and forth with no definite pause in between.” Didn’t matter if she was out of the country or mere inches away from you, she’s always about work it seems - like that was the only mode programmed in her mind. “More often than not, I’m treating what damage is done which usually ends up with a few bottles of beer and don’t even get me started on how bad of a lightweight you are-” 

“Uh, rude.” Haewon pays no attention to you. Her thumb grazes your cheek again, and you can’t help the way that you’re leaning into her touch, once realizing that what you said might be too much. You feel your head being reeled in lower and lower, until you feel the tip of her nose hit the cuff of your ear. “But you’re not wrong, and I’m sorry that you have to put up with me that way.” 

Nodding was something that you always used to acknowledge her opinions or thoughts, and it isn’t any different here. 

However, your hands are playing a different role: traversing their way into the two small divots below the small of her back, resting just right above her ass. She’s getting herself more and more comfortable, undoing the first three buttons of her shirt, inviting you to dive into the new opening. You keep on gazing into her slightly swollen lips, studying at how quickly her tongue wets the bottom part, and you draw another swift inhale past your teeth before answering, “There’s no need for you to apologize, especially to me.”

Haewon keeps on pulling the undone tie, the knot basically nonexistent the more she pulls down, eventually sliding it out of your collar and onto the floor. She gives it a quick glance when it pools over her feet and yours, and her lapin eyes land on yours again, bottom lip captured between her teeth. “I just feel bad, you know? And part of me thinks that it’s only a matter of time until you’ve had enough and want to-” 

You shut her up before she keeps up the self-lament, meshing her lips against yours, wanting her to be persuaded in a different manner - one with less words and more actions. 

Drawing back, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. And even if I ever had the chance to, I’d straight up say no.” 

“Look at you, so easygoing.”

“I-” 

“At some point,” she breathes, ghosting her face over yours, tugging on that want for you to chase after. “I’d thought you’d give up on forgiving me.” 

“For?” 

“Anything, really.” Haewon answers admittedly. “Whether it’s here or in the office, you have that same look in your eyes, the one filled with sorrow. It hurt me a bit.” 

Maybe right now would be the time to remind her that what she’s thinking is nothing but complete bullshit. 

So you lean down again, and pull her close. Another snapshot taken in the back of your mind. 

Two years is a long time. Two years of the same routine over and over, of working with her, unwinding after the long hours hidden away from everyone else, watching her work herself down to the bone, doing all of these things as if she’s going to die in the next five seconds if she doesn’t keep going. She’s rising to every occasion that she can, moving so fast that you can’t even bear to keep up with her. You’d admire from a distance, in awe, all while you’re at her right-hand side, unwilling to say anything to her. Obviously when she needed to get her mind off of something, or everything for that matter, she wasn’t the kind of person to be upfront about what she wants and let you read into the signs. Luckily, you’ve always noticed at a glance, and even if she isn’t the one to puff out her lips and kiss you first. No. Never. That’s a luxury that’s reserved for you and only you. Because all it takes is one look into your eyes, and the way she’s broken you down like this, she’s very aware of what your downfall is: her. 

All of this is a continuation of a growing culmination, her own personal anthology sprouted from her brain, one which you’ve caught wind of gradually. 

When you’re kissing into her again, hard, you start to feel everything around you collapse. It’s in the way that she smiles against your lips, matching every curve you give her - it’s amazing, and you could write poems of all the good things about Haewon - you’re reminded again and again how out of all the moments in the high achieving days and miserable nights, these instances feel just right. She’s drawing air into her nose, grazing your cheek, never wanting to pull each other away; until you’re sucking the oxygen out of each other’s mouths that leaves the both of you suffocating a bit. It’s all foolish, maybe just a bit, and to hell with the consequences awaiting you at the end of the bridge, because she knows that she’ll be in a safe place as long as it’s with you. 

The arch in her back rises, and you’re clinging tighter into her smaller frame, shoulder bunching up next to her neck, making it easier for you to hold. You can tell her breaths and hums are getting desperate, her own little mess up the more she melts into you. 

You’re not helping her in this situation, and it definitely isn’t the first time you’ve done this to her. She’s hooking her arm well around your neck, the only line of support while you’re taking care of the rest, letting her wrists fall slack as you keep on your loving siege on her lips. 

She’s had a rough one this week. A red eye flight back from a fashion week, an entire day of going to ten different locations with one of her top clients, then there’s the whole incident with Bae and Sullyoon back to back. Amongst all of those things, you’d wish that you’d sweep her away for just a second and take her mind off from all the pressures and stress (and you definitely wished you didn’t wait until now to finally do it). 

“Mmmm,” Haewon lets her voice rumble in her throat, tightening her grip in the back of your collar, signaling you to pull away. When you do, her eyes pool into yours, shimmering pupils working overtime to map out the lines of your face. You could feel the heat from her cheeks grow warmer. Her eyes cross for a second. She lets her head go crestfallen, pulling this one smile, her simplest smile, the rarest one she could ever have that not a lot of people have had the pleasure of seeing. The gentlest and most genuine one that she could have, it sells the whole thing to you. Despite her tough shell, you realize that she’s one of the rare few that sends your heart flipping, every time she’s got your guard lowered - exactly in the way like this - it’s impossible to ignore the outshining tempts when all of your inhibitions are at their lowest. 

Her head goes one side, and then the opposite, “I don’t expect you to forgive me for this.” 

Today’s been one of those days. You’re tired, even beyond tired. If she didn’t come with you, the bed would’ve been full by now. Two years of the on and off and the off and on, it’s draining. You don’t say anything, as always. Instead, you swoop down beneath her thighs and carry her, taking her lips all to yourself. 

She hums this heavenly noise when you press her against the wall, her legs hooking to a familiar spot where it hasn’t been in a while. Some of the buttons in her shirt come more undone not to your knowledge, but you play the counterpart when tending to the clip and zipper of her skirt. Luckily your body can work in two places at once, returning your focus to Haewon’s face, a sweep of her tongue over your bottom lip. 

The pressure to her waist is not too little nor too much, but just the right amount of press when your leg plays this momentary support underneath her legs, helping her slip out of her shirt while she does the same to you. Almost like you’re opening the pages of a book you finished reading, but flipping through to a certain part like the untouched skin of her chest with her simple black bra playing as the final back line of garments waiting to be discarded. She does that part all by herself, indulging on the breadth of her collarbone, forcing her to bite down a soft moan. 

Haewon here isn't one to play nice. There’s a bit of a tug-of-war going on with your mouths until you gnaw on her lips a bit too hard, wanting you to do that again the way her face is chasing after yours. But her eyes find their place in line again, gaze softening - you’re cursing at yourself because of how beautiful she looks like this. She’s always been one to have a heart of steel, create that dam covering her fragile trust, her arms wrap you in her embrace, eyes hinting at a sign of concern. The flame in your heart has gone cold, but she’s always been the one fanning the fire back to life. 

When you let her down gently, back sliding against the smooth drywall, her arms shift over her head - opening up the area of her midriff to see, to feel. Your palms have never felt anything smoother until they’re slipping the skirt off from her hips, curling over the waistband of her underwear and she fills the open space between your mouths, “fix me up baby, please.” 

Most of her solid-colored panties get caught between your knuckles, skating down her thigh - you’re hunting, searching, till you reach that empowering heat between her thighs. You could feel the top part of her forearm press firmly on the nape of your neck while one of her shoulder blades drags itself against the wall behind her. 

A drag up, then down across her folds, and she rasps. 

You get a finger in, maybe two just to test, feeling her body tense and grasp and hook onto anything within her reach. Little by little, piece by piece, Haewon’s gradually reduced to these mere meeked noises and hums the more your hands and lips begin their grand assault across the fine canvas of her body. The wetness consumes your fingers, and your mouth increasingly gets greedy as you’re nibbling away at the firm mound of her now exposed breasts, her bra gone in one swift move, mind focusing on too many feelings all at once. 

Her head lolls up and over, opening up the left side of her neck for you to take, gasping. She can’t stop squirming in place, and you’ll deal with that soon enough. “I love your hands,” she sighs. “God, you sure know how to satisfy a woman.” 

Your brain is working on the clock, finding all of the niche places and spots on her body to get her needy for more, and she’s playing spectator, the pad of your tongue swipes upward at the midline of her chest, capturing the hard bud of her nipple between your thumb and index, twisting without a care of her quick pain. 

Haewon gets both of her hands around your head, pulling you up from drowning beneath her neck, showering your face with kisses, forehead pressing against yours, “Happy with your reward?” 

You’ll give credit where it’s due. You hate how intoxicating she is with the snarky remarks and fast banter, but you love how simple she is to break down - send her mind into a downward spiral. She could let you ruin her life, and it would be the same for you. 

It takes a moment too long to consider, your brain is running through the playbook of all the moves and positions you could have her in, which spot in your house would be the most ideal place to simply just bend her over and tear her insides apart until she won’t be able to walk or think straight. A woman like her: clothes pooled and scattered everywhere at her feet, swollen lips and tattered skin just waiting to be ruined. 

Haewon knows you well, where all she has to do is say something to snap your attention back to her: “How do you want me?” 

She’s selfish, there’s no denying that. Though, she doesn’t really care what you think when she’s kissing you shamelessly once more, smushing and smacking her lips across your face, letting her have her way and to sink into her body again. But here is where she forgets, another callback of the few other times she got too ahead of the curve too soon- 

“I think I find you to be prettier when you’re like this,” you tell her, quickly sinking down to your knees moving her thighs over your shoulders; get your face close to that warm, delightful fountain between her thighs when you lift her up from the floor, holding her there. 

-to realize that you too, are also selfish in your own accord; at some point, there’s a time to prove who has what between the two of you, and the sigh of acknowledgment slipping out of her lips gives just enough that you’re doing something right. 

It all could’ve gone wrong for Haewon at any given point in the time you’ve been working with her. All it took was a few mishaps both in and out of her control and she would’ve snapped. In those dire times of need, she had you. Whether it’d be your mouth or your fingers, the way you settle into these well-practiced strokes of your tongue and cock, and she loves to travel down the little rite of passage when you shut her up with a palm on her mouth or a hand to her throat. She knows that you have your limits, and it’s all in her cards for when she’s able to unshackle you from your common sensibilities. A hand is raked into your hair as you’re shifting your head closer and closer, until your breath starts to blanket her leaking entrance, awaiting for your arrival. 

There’s a few mumbles spilling out of her lips when you gently kiss her folds, brush your nose right up against her clit, to where her head bucks forward, giving an unintentional style of wispy bangs the more your mouth starts to scoop up the mess that you’ve created. Her hips buck and jerk, pressing your head deeper into her quivering pussy lips, wanting to get that ache so much faster than intended. 

“God, yes baby- right there,” is all she says, and she can barely manage to prop her head upright when you look up from below. 

A chuckle leaves your nose, arming a coy smile before you carry on your attention onto her swollen clit, sucking and teasing on it shamelessly until you start to feel the insides of her thighs shake against your ears, digging her nails deep into your scalp. 

“Is this what you wanted?” you ask, feeling the pressure of Haewon’s legs crushing your skull from within. “Looks like you’ve been pent up for a while now, no?” 

Haewon digs a heel into your back, making you secure the tops of her thighs with your fingers, hitting her head back on the wall. “Among other things.” 

“Really.” You reply flatly, giving her another swift lick of your tongue into her aching cunt, her slick pooling across the wet pad. “Because judging how your body’s reacting, you’ve been wanting me badly since the last time.” 

“Sounds perfectly right.” 

She loses that hefty persona pretty damn quickly when you’re diving into her pussy again, stifling a moan, grinding  her hips into your head, wanting you to keep on licking until she’s had enough (spoiler alert: she hasn’t.) “Do tell me more,” you’re telling her, smacking your lips to the heat, “if you’re able to, of course.” 

“Seriously. Fuck you.” 

“Says the one who’s technically my boss.” 

“Not when it’s after hours I’m not.” 

“What are you implying?” 

Haewon’s eyes squint a bit, trying to keep focus, doubling down on the indulgence of your tongue over her folds. Her face is in a rosy shade of pink, similar to when she’s usually drunk - but this shade however, you’d prefer to see her more in. “Stop pretending to play dumb. I know you can read between the lines here.” 

“And what if I want to be oblivious for once? Like in every situation that we’re in while at work?” 

“You’re not, ah-” 

You’re not giving her any chance to breathe here. She doesn’t deserve it. And when you lather her pussy up in your spit, it’s less than an act of mercy, helplessly whining at the harshful gnawing you’re doing to her poor cunt - it’s what she wants, and she has no one to blame for making you like this but herself. 

“If you’re not my boss during these hours, then what are you?” You inquire.

“I’ll be anything but your boss. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

That’s all the confirmation that you needed, forcefully plummeting her down to her inevitable demise. You feel the muscles in her thighs clench in shock from the unexpected anticipation, biting down her shriek the more you dive into the endless depths of her entrance, satisfying that want that you and her so desperately wanted. 

“Oh,” Haewon sighs out as some epiphany. But the moment of relief washes over her in no time, her layers folding. Collapsing. Her entire body wiggles in this circular motion. “Oh.” 

The heavenly chorus of her mewls fill your ears when you’re cementing your pace, wreaking havoc between her thighs. She’s still got her hand gripping the back of your head, the other flat on the wall. Her stomach bucks and folds at the weight of your tongue, moving your head around in different directions to make sure that you’re hitting every spot with the right approach. The pleasure is building in all of the right places, and you can feel the curl of her toes on your back, ensuring that you’re doing the exact job as her personal toy. “Fuck. Right there, right there.” 

It only increases the flood by tenfold. She’s spilling more and more you kiss, swirl, nibble, and tease - doing everything you can to make sure she reaches that unimaginable peak first. “You’re so good. You’re so so good. Baby- don’t stop, oh my god-” 

Haewon can’t help herself here, leaning her back deeper into the wall and dragging her hips outward, keeping both legs on your shoulders to the best that she can, unable to let up with the bucks and jolts her hips are making into your face. Every quick rush of air past her teeth only holds so much until she starts to feel her stomach bunch up in knots. 

“T-tongue, dear. Oh jesus, you’re so good at- fuck!” she yelps, the tailends of her breaths tattered in these hushed moans, picking up in volume the more you slurp up her pussy to your heart’s content. “Almost, almost.” 

You’re well aware of the fact that Haewon is one of the main catalysts when it comes to operating her job. She’s second to none. The standard. The spearhead. She’s got one of the most sizable clientele’s for a reason. But the jaws of work can consume anybody in this climate, no matter how on top or perfect they can be. It would only be a matter of time for the fatigue to get to her - and with the recent events happening around the office, it did just that. Everyone needs a break from time to time, and she’s no different here. A tongue laps up one spot past the clit, there’s a nibble of her swollen folds between your teeth, and here is where you step up to the role of ensuring that Haewon gets her much deserved intermission here. 

“Right there, I’m gonna-ah! -umming,” Haewon wails, failing to let up with the oral assault on her quivering cunt, her cries filling up your ears, the muscles of her legs locking your back in place, fingers tugging the roots of your hair. “Cumming. I’m fucking cumming.”

These puppy eyes you do to look up, she gazes down, bottom lip still stuck to her teeth as her expression tears, coming down from her needed stress relief. You stay the course in holding her steady, taking account of the lingering twitches and tensions of muscle her body does. 

And not long after, you finally let her down from the wall. Her arms slither around the familiar profiles of your back, lazily planting her lips onto your skin again - Haewon wants another taste of you. It’s also kind of cute how her toes stack up on top of your feet, prompting you to lead the way into the bedroom while she’s closely tethered to you. 

“Love it. Love it so much.” Haewon sighs out, half-lidded eyes caught in your vision. “Love it when you make me cum like that.” 

It’s one of the few moments where she doesn’t expect a response from you, because it’s already true. 

Above everything, you carry on with your steps as Haewon’s lips continue to spell out these hushed curses - all the things that she wants you to do to her - her fantasies, the praises, what she likes you doing and what she wants to do to you with the intent of returning the favor. Her figure is so light in your hands and on your feet, limbs loose enough to bend and twist, a marked up canvas ready for another brush-to-paper moment. 

Gravity here does it’s own thing when she falls backward onto the mattress of your room, her arms doing this natural reflex of going above her head, carving up these unbelievable curves in real time to where her back is off the comforters and her left foot is inching up against her inner right thigh. This image alone was enough for you to mindlessly slip out of your pants and underwear, eyes fixed on Haewon rolling her body: belly facing down, back up, her knees dig deep into the sheets, the upper half stretching a bit while her lower half rises up past your thighs, rounding out her hips. 

Her knees spread wider across the sheets and her back dips, you think - just a bit, and the look she does over her shoulder is the right amount of lethality. You don’t even flinch when she manages to get her fingers onto the length of your cock, telling you the only thing she wants you to do: 

“Take this cock and fuck me.” 

You’d follow her words no matter what. 

Like a siren’s call out in the sea, the sound of Haewon’s voice comes off as this daring risk where the mind starts to slowly reduce itself around her hand, languidly pumping you to the point where the urge to rip the fun out of her is impossible to ignore. 

“I’ve always wondered,” she starts to say. 

You lean down to shower a few kisses to her neck, fingers sliding up to her waist, pressing for a firm hold while an airy giggle passes her lips. 

“How long have you dealt with me? Being like this? 

“Where would I even start?” You hunch over with a trail of kisses down her lower back, cupping the swell of her ass while noting that most of her slick has spread past the underside and to the back of her thighs. “I don’t even remember who made the first move back then.” 

Haewon reaches out for one of your pillows, setting it between her arms and chest, “I’m sure it was you, or maybe it was me. Maybe-” 

A wistful gasp stops her from talking when you slowly press your cock into her leaking pussy, lips slicked up and inviting between those lovely thighs of hers. You drink in the sight of the grip she has around your length as you continue to ease yourself into her, keeping it together poorly before the heat and her pulse gets to your head. 

“Maybe what?” you tell her, attempting to bring back her train of thought from fleeing away. 

This girl who’s backside is arched so high up in the air and stomach buried deep into the sheets looks over her shoulder again, eyes filled with tension - a fire blazing beneath the irises. “Maybe- you were just oblivious about the signals I was sending you, but now that we’re here, I guess you can say that you made the curve.” 

“I won’t deny anything here-” Everything about this is the reality, anyway. You drag and push yourself into the fluttering heat of her second pair of lips. Her body is so responsive in the wants and needs just from the wetness alone, but she knows that you’re not easy to take. “That was an argument I lost a while ago.” 

Your hips flush with Haewon’s and she whines, shoving her face into the pillow set in front of her as she relaxes into the stable pace. A simple yank of her waist back to your thighs serves the only preamble, the quick groan ripped out of your chest, that rush of wanting this tightness and addicting feeling more and more. 

“Right?” You’re asking again, meshing her hips with yours, leaning forward and down to the nape of her neck. Sighs joining together in an impromptu chorus, “I’m not denying you winning me over.” 

Haewon’s hands here go a bit haywire, shooting up and out. One of them comes to grips with the comforter beneath her. You watch her body move, ass rippling through every pump back into her cunt. “Yeah, but you-” 

Her head then dips down into the pillow again, writhing in the twists left and right. You catch yourself hobbling over her upper body once more, lip trapped to your teeth. “You said ‘yeah’. Let’s keep it that way.” 

A gradual rhythm gets developed here, taking in every wonderful inch of Haewon’s dripping cunt, shaft picking up more and more slick with ease in every passing stroke. She’s so wonderfully tight around your length, molding to your cock like it’s the missing piece that makes her feel complete, and whole. There’s an attempt to level herself parallel to the mattress, but you don’t give her any kind of luxury whatsoever, pushing down on the small of her back that deepens the arch, nudging your cockhead down further past the threshold of her calefaction. 

You’re blinking, you’re believing, and you’re pretty much swearing to the heavens above at the thought out realization that Haewon was meant to be yours - like she was made for only you. She’s in the right position, taking you at just the right angle, all sensibilities hanging on a singular thread. Every hit spills out a quick phrase of pants, watch her struggle in keeping her head upright, a slacking neck in response with the consistent slaps of your hips into hers. 

Her slick creates these scattered strings across the skin - not only to the tops of your thighs, but to her ass as well, the sound of her moans bouncing off the walls once they start to rise up a bit in volume. 

“Fucking-” and it’s right at this moment, where she sounds relieved, it all comes down with a firm grind of her teeth, “fuck.” 

“Yeah?” You hum. 

“It’s so-” the blowback of your cock into her cunt becomes a little too much to bear, “it’s so fucking good.” 

You’re holding her in place, right at the hips, the unbelievable form of her ass rocking back and forth with every shift of motion caused by you. The low light of your humidifier works its hours on the nightstand, illuminating the comfy and watered colors onto her skin. She’s drenched in this soft honey shade, laying ruin of the pale sheets on her knees and elbows - face gazing to the window, proffering up these listless praises to fill up your head. 

The thing is: this isn’t the first time that you and her were like this. There’s an absolute certainty that someone living in either the floors above or below your room has heard everything that’s happened within these walls. Surely someone minding their own business walking along the sidewalk outside has seen Haewon’s gorgeous tits pressed up against the glass, her face full of rapture and pleasure - not having any sense of respect or decency to keep it in the room. You remember railing her poor pussy out on the balcony one time; and that was an issue for the landlord to bring up the following day, but neither you nor her really cared. 

What really mattered here, was fucking her brains out. Easy as that. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh my god-” 

Every word that’s punctuated out of her lips starts to collapse on top of each other, the impact of your thrusts siphoning the last bits of air trapped in her lungs. She isn’t making her condition any better, suffocating herself deep into the pillow, hoping to drown out the wet noises of her cunt slipping your cock in with refined precision. This choking grip is more dangerous than her hands, her hitched breaths are in no comparison to your labored huffs, slowing your movements with one forceful drive in, a massage of her asscheeks here, another drag and thrust back into her tight cunt, and a playful slap to her ass, tainting the slick skin in red. 

“Baby, your fucking cunt,” you hiss. “Jesus christ.” 

A whiny ‘mhm-” is all you manage to get out of Haewon, breaking underneath your weight. Her ass is still facing up, face shoved into the pillow, nicking her neck up for air, fucking her down the curve of her spine. “Oh my goodness. You got it so deep. Hit me hard. Please, and I swear to fuck - ngh-” 

You’re groaning, increasing the sway of your hips into hers, “So fucking tight.” Haewon’s hands manage to find yours, holding the swell of her ass together, moving her body the opposite direction away from you, meeting the impact down the middle which sends your balls lightly tapping the nub of her clit. She knows that you’ve been working a bit too much for your own sake, so she goes on ahead and has her own fun, fucking herself back onto your cock, the recoil alone enough for you to just freeze on your knees and take it. 

“S’that feel good?” she asks innocently.

Spilling out another expletive, you angle your hips up as her ass comes crashing down. 

“You’re so hard for me,” Haewon continues, looking over with her body still pressed against the sheets, the left side of her face smiling at the sight of you trying to hold it together. “This cock fits so well inside- jesus, ah- had to let yourself go for a bit, didn’t you?” 

“If you keep your hips moving with my hands tied, I’m gonna fucking lose it.” 

The plot was already lost from the first dirty thought you had with her. 

Her ass keeps your lower half in check, unknowingly moving through muscle memory while the walls of your room continue to reverberate the stuttering breaths and quick curses slipping out of both of your lips. Your hands hold still in tandem with her fingers and start to claw into your palms, pleasure spiking everywhere in her body, skin hot to the touch as the claps start to increase in tempo - the rate shifting to something more desperate, erratic. 

“My fucking god, shit!” She wails, her hands shooting down to her ass, spreading herself wider while you lock your eyes at the sight of your cock buried into her cunt becomes a whole lot more clearer now, “Right there baby, holy fuck- this cock is just-” Haewon’s demeanor is diminishing by the second, words and sighs tumbling over in loops, but the pitch in her whines hit a familiar key or tone, gradually crescendoing when she gives up in squirming between your fingers. 

“Pound my ass- yes, fuck- this dick is amazing.” Her head swivels up before ducking below into the open cavity of her chest and arms, sucking in her stomach with whatever strength she has left, “Give me more,” she’s panting, head spinning and spinning like a ceiling fan, “Give it to me. I need more-” 

There’s not much left for you to take other than the stray tit that’s captured into your hand when you hunch yourself over her again, lift the upper half of her body upwards so that she’s in line with yours, entrapping that heat away from the cool air, trembling. Your mouth is back to her ear again, eyes half-lidded, fingers moving around your neck while the warmth of her cunt starts to burn across your length - the new lane created where your cock slides into her that creates this sequence of events of her convulsing, shuddering, pulling her hips back with a sole purpose to just ruin her. You’re hearing a slight wheeze out of her, maybe a sob too, the head of your cock’s hit a spot past her threshold where it literally makes her go stupid; mind and body into putty, exactly the way you like it. 

Her fingers continue to hold tight, cunt clenching around your thick shaft when you’ve finally got her past that edge. There’s a bit of a moment of pause when you and her are stacked on top of each other, exhaustion finally breaking through, coaxing her second orgasm as you’re keeping your cock warm inside of her, feeling her hips spaz out of control while you endure in fucking her poor, spent, pretty pussy. Both heels of her feet bend towards the backside of your thighs, pressing her waist into the mattress, sliding yourself out the tightness before teasing her with the half of your shaft. 

“There we go, Haewon. I’ve got you,” you’re telling her. The tone of your voice drowned out by the keening shattering through. “You’re perfect. Cum over this cock, baby. You deserved it.” 

She keeps on sighing when she comes down from her second high, summoning this lazy grin while you’re peppering her face with kisses, an indication for a job well done. But she taps the top of your hand twice, resting at the crease of her hips - and the shimmy of her hips still embedded with your cock tells you only one thing: 

“I wanna make you cum.” 

The insanity this woman has. It does something to you. 

So you waste no time at all. It’s enormously more than just a mess with how fucked up she is. 

When you give her what she needs: flipping on her back was the way to go, yanking her hips back into yours until you see her eyes go wide at the sudden stroke before rolling up behind her head and past her eyelids - everything starts to fall into place with the way the back of her ankles hold your waist, which only leaves you with the sole choice of pounding her so fucking hard that you’d have to hook yourself into the arch of her back where she’ll have no where to go - it’s a position well practiced, your ol’ reliable: firing your cock on all cylinders at a pace so inhuman until she’s able to look you in the eyes and cast a spell for you to finish on her pretty face and leave her there with the damage when it’s all said and done - the assurance that you’ll give her what she wants and have you craving for more - kissing you shamelessly like she’ll be stoned to a rock come the next day, and when you’re feeling the pit of your stomach open more and more, the muscles in your hips and legs moving and tensing in the midst of this sex-filled frenzy, there was only one instinct in your mind where it didn’t take much to pump and dump your load inside her. 

You can feel yourself getting close, head dizzying. “Haewon-” 

“I know, handsome boy,” she praises, pulling you so that your forehead touches hers, “can feel you throbbing down there.” 

She lets out this airy laugh when you wince a bit, hands reined at the small of her back and bringing her waist in, the impact of your cock rebounds her body once the pace starts to decrease. 

“Fill me up, like you always do,” Haewon husks, voice barely a whisper in contrast to your hoarseness, “Put a baby in me.” 

There’s this sort of tension in the air along with your body, driving your cock deep into her, burying your cum into the crevices of her pulsing hotness. Haewon lets out a sigh of relief, telling you to keep cumming inside of her, feeling every hot thread of your release coating her slopped walls. 

You can feel yourself get light-headed - the warmth alone, not to mention how wet and tight her pussy is still, a place where everything feels right - but the lust filled in your head starts to fade, blackened vision returning to normal; and before you know it, you’re coming back to earth. 

Neither of you move a muscle. Instead, you lay there for a bit, taking in the dwindling time of exploring each other’s bodies, holding yourselves together while your lips are conducting one final battle for that last dominance, the stench of sex and sweat still fresh and out to the open air. 

Haewon manages to wrap both of her arms around your neck, kissing the slope of her neck and collarbone, scratching the back of your head, looking up to the ceiling with a lazy smile, one plastered with satisfaction. She taps your shoulder to grab your attention, but all you could come up with was a simple hum, which seemed to be enough for her. 

“Go get me some lemons and water. I owe you a special something and a ride.” 

–

Morning rolls around not long after, and assessing the lay of the land of your living space with one eye open. Everything seems to be in their place, tv remotes, work bag next to the neighboring desk, and the singular cup on the counter next to the fridge. Another thing to note, Haewon already got a jump start to the day. 

You’re sliding across the floor with said singular cup being put into the kitchen sink, but with the other eye open now, you notice something at the corner of the kitchen island: a small box left open. 

“I wonder what she has for me this time,” you say to yourself, examining the box which turned out to be a contraceptive tablet. A note also slips out with a card attached. 

“Take today off. I’ll be coming over later. By the way, I hope you won’t get mad at me for snatching your little gift from Jiwoo. It was too cute for you to have sitting on your nightstand or coffee table, so I took it for myself. 

p.s 

Don’t worry about last night so much. I had everything thought out since our little ‘accident’ the first time. Can’t really say the same thing with what I said, but you can choose to ignore it…or not ;’)

- Haewon

xo <3” 

The attached card flipped over showed the name of the gacha toy gifted to you. A justified reaction of sighing with rolled eyes and the shake of your head was pretty much the start of some days; but hey, at least the breaks are enjoyable. 

“Sleight of hand my ass,” you mutter, thumbing the small slip of paper in your fingers, “she stole that from me.” 

-

a/n: sending my special flowers to @majorblinks (i love you foreverrr <3), @passingnotions (for happily agreeing to poke around wherever in the draft), and @yieldtotemptation (to opening the floodgates with ur bae fic).

thank you for reading and wemo check. :3

[angelltheninth]

Corrupted!Jayce + Reunion Sex

Pairing: Jayce Talis x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, breeding kink, reunited and it feels so good, hair-pulling (for Jayce), size difference, cunnilingus, injured!Jayce, feral!Jayce

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: This is all your fault @multi-fandom-imagine, I love you.

He collapsed against you the moment you hugged him, his hands clinging to your clothes, his body failing him but he kept pushing himself to get home to you

Even though his lips are cracked and shaking he still kisses you with everything he's got

With a groan he carries you to the bed, your smaller body bouncing off the bed before he stills you with strong hands

There's no time to tell you where he's been, he knows he doesn't have much time to spare as is so he will make the most if it

Something is different about him, he seems different from the Jayce you knew, he was the same yet not

Not even the way he touched you was the same

It was very rushed, desperate, needy, full of lust as his hands pealed off your clothes, his hands mapping your body like he hadn't had you for years

"I can't explain. There's no time. But... I need you... I need you right now and I... I feel like I'm losing my mind. But you're here, you're real, I can feel you. I need to feel all of you, babe."

Jayce almost starts crying when he sees you naked

His cock was hard before that even happened

Before he didn't have the time or energy to pleasure himself, it was the farthest thing from his mind, all he thought of was how to survive, how to get back

Now all he wants is to feel your pussy around his cock again

He almost starts drooling when he sees how wet you are

As his hands cup your ass cheeks he raises your pussy to his mouth, kissing, lapping, fast, sloppy movements with his tongue and lips

There is none of that slow build up or teasing you're used to from him

"How can I wait? I've waited for so long. Missed your taste, your moans, your body, your perfect little cunt. So desperate for me to fill it. I know beautiful, I know. I want you too. Just let me have this for a while longer."

As he licks into you your hands go to his hair, pushing the messy locks, noting how much longer his hair is now

His moan travels from your clit up your spine and to your brain

You feel his beard scratching your inner thighs while Jayce tries to get you closer, impossibly closer

Doesn't let you get away from him until he feels your thighs clamp down around his head and fall over his shoulders

He doesn't wipe your pussy juices off his face, he's frantically lining his cock up with your hole and thrusting the full length into you

You moan in unison as he stretches your hole open, you should be used to that feeling by now but it always makes your eyes roll back, the thickness of him so much better than your fingers

Jayce growls and huffs as he grabs your hips and ruts into you, not holding back, the pace almost painful, you can't even understand what he's saying anymore, he's already getting pussydrunk on the feeling of your inner walls squeezing his cock

"That's it, that's my girl, that's the cunt I remember. Feeling so good. Ah, I love you, please know that, no matter what I do, no matter what I've done, I love you! I want... I always wanted a family with you. I couldn't say it before but now I want you to know. Can I... can I come inside of you? Just... want you be mine, want to get you pregnant, want to... I'll do it... fuck a gods damn baby into you!"

Even as he was rambling, his eyes staring into yours, tears all but spilling down his face he still held you close

It was true that you never talked about having a family

But it was clear that what ever he experianced put some things into perspective for Jayce

His hips smacked into yours with raw lust, his balls full and desperate to be emptied, his cock twitching every time your pussy squeezed around it

Jayce hisses as he bends his injured leg to fuck you harder, ramming his cock so deep into your pussy

The flash of pain is quickly followed by pleasure as he finishes, his cock pushed all the way inside of you, his hands leaving marks on your hips as you're filled up with warm seed

He doesn't stop, as he feels your cunt spasming around him and your nails scratching down his back he gets going again, his warm breath coming out fast and ragged

There's nothing in his head except the need, the thought of making sure you're thoroughly breed before he leaves the room

[innerfare]

Carrying You 

Summary: How do they carry you?

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, Kid

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

——— 

Luffy: 

We all know he’s a potato sack kinda guy. When he wants to, he’ll just throw you over his shoulder and that’s that. Notorious for reaching all the way across the deck of the Sunny, wrapping his arm around your waist, and snatching you up. 

Zoro: 

Another type to just throw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He’ll smack your ass every time he does, too, and tell you to stop complaining if you dare say something. He’s been known to do this in an argument. 

Sanji: 

Bridal style. Always bridal style. He sweeps you off your feet, handling you with great care, and makes sure not to jostle you around too much. He’ll carry you any time, day or night, always happy to have you in his arms. 

Ace: 

Piggyback rides all the way. He loves having you on his back because he can move at his fast pace and keep you with him. He also puts you on his shoulders to carry you around because why wouldn’t he? Very happy for you to climb him like a tree.  

Sabo: 

Always picks you up off the counter or desk or somewhere you’re sitting, grinning when you wrap your legs around his waist and cling to him like a koala bear. Definitely not above tucking you under his arm for safekeeping. 

Law: 

Not the most handsy, though he has been known to pick you up against your will when you’re overworking yourself and take you back to his cabin. How he carries you depends on how difficult you make it. If you’re nice, he’ll carry you bridal style, but if you put up a fight, over his shoulder you go.  

Kid: 

Grins when you come behind him and attempt to lift him off the ground, failing miserably due to his size, turns around and does the same to you but with far more success. He takes advantage of the size difference and manhandles you all day long. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[thanatos-heard-somewhere]

Even besides a fucking LOAD of plastic I, myself, never understand this classic collector's approach. Like, yes, they gather dust, but if you can afford them (and the vast majority of collector editions are fucking expensive), you can probably afford a good glass display. Or at least partly glass. If they are simply piling somewhere in your storage room, what's the point? I'm not a collector, who builds a collection.

For most of guys who I personally met and they was wired that way dolls and figurines are a trophy. Like a stuffed rhino head on the wall of a safari-enjoyer and probably poacher's house.

I'm merely a good host or a head of the family figure, who invited guests or found his lost family members. They are never just Cleo or Toralei or Venus, or Elanna or Ray to me. They are Hatshepsut, Camille, Freya, Zhai and Amir.

Figurines are even worse in that regard. I've preordered CuChulainn figma once. And when, after almost a year of waiting, he finally appeared, I've unboxed him and play like for hours trying action poses with his awesomely holding stand. Because the stand allowed me to even set him as if he hits someone with his spear in one of his mad leaps. He is a very active character, agile and fast. And it was awesome.

But in the box he was... Like, you know, dead. Like in the coffin, casket, whatever. Classic, convenient storing pose, good for transport, but not characteristic of him at all. I dunno where I put his box, but it still exists only for the reason that he has spare parts, and I don't need to lose them. And spare parts of my nendroids are in this box as well. Where are the nend's boxes? In the trash. Because it was way less resilient then his original box.

Here is another story:

My partners hear about my childhood experiences with a very beautiful Barbie doll, my mother bought me one for the Christmas. It was a Christmas collector Angel barbie. I had a lot of wonderful time with her, she always was a main character in all my games, even if her name is constantly changes. Then I lost her. Guess my parents decided to give my toys away when I turn 16. @aquamarignis found this precise edition somewhere on the second-hand market in internet. She was in the box. Box was a bit broken, but I can repair it, if I want. It was the 1998 edition. It was 2022-2023. Christmas.

I immediately unpacked her. Yes, I saved the box, but not for the collector's spirit. Just for more convenient transportation. Btw, in the box her silicone shoulder strap, that hold her dress more safe, decayed and turns orange and pretty visible. So, I removed it also.

Angel is beautiful. And for me this unboxing experience was crucial. I cried with a smile and felt 7 yo again. It was perfect.

[neon-sunsets]

it’s actually insane to me in retrospect that viktor got the arc he did. I need to go back and count his screen time minutes, but it’s clear that he’s up there numerically, and his story has so much weight within the narrative outside of just numbers as well.

beyond that, though, is the fact that viktor's narrative is fundamentally one about internalized ableism and the systemic structures that encourage it.

(obligatory disclaimer #1 that I have a significant mobility disability and a progressive chronic illness, but I am only one disabled person.)

imagine this: you are a child. you are disabled. the world you live in is one where you cannot afford healthcare; no one is there to teach you how to even use your cane correctly. your world is inaccessible and, worse, even the people who would normally show class solidarity with you don't, because you are not even able to do what they expect from you. characters like vi, powder, claggor, ekko, and mylo are all shown care and solidarity that viktor isn't — because they are able-bodied and therefore able to "pull their own weight."

this, at least, is an environment that can probably be overcome or mitigated by age and meeting people in your community who do care about you. this is an environment comparable to that of many, many, many disabled people who manage to thrive in a deeply unfair and ableist world.

but then you encounter a man who sees that you have talent and tells you as much. he does not ask much of you and he does not care that you are disabled. all he asks is for some help, which you give, and in return he teaches you the things he knows. what comes of this, after all is said and done and your understanding of the world has been fundamentally changed, is that you do have something you can give to your community, to the world. you have a talent which you can use to make yourself useful. you're not strong or sturdy but you can make machines, and that is always in need.

but you can't skate by on being useful like a normal child. the onus is always on you to prove that you're worth the air you breathe and the space you take up, that it's worthwhile to keep you alive. and the place to go to make yourself the most useful, where the most change can be made, is not a place you have any traditional way of accessing. you, through tenacity and grit, manage to get there anyways. (the show doesn't depict this, but any way viktor would have managed to get to the academy would have involved significant difficulty and possibly deception).

and when you get there, to that towering city of bronze, you find that nothing you do actually matters all that much.

everyone looks at you and sees your disability. everyone looks at you and sees where you're from. no matter how smart or accomplished or helpful you are, your behavior will always be, in their eyes, representative of your people. you could handle the stares, the rejection. but their judgement is dangerous to you and your people.

so, in order to survive, you must be perfect. you must project confidence or at least indifference to their cruelty. you must do as you're told and accept meager promotions and toil away as an assistant. you might be the only disabled zaunite they'll ever meet, so you have to make it count. if you fail, if they decide everyone from the undercity is lazy and useless, it's your fault.

you tell yourself you won't let them get to you. you tell yourself that you believe in your abilities.

it's a convenient narrative, and it's wholly untrue.

you, after all, are only a human being. a lifetime of the chips stacked against you is nearly impossible to overcome.

and so the image you build of yourself is that of a man far more self-confident than you, one who is quiet and reserved but proud of his accomplishments. the man you actually are, though, is one desperate for acceptance. desperate to assimilate. you chase your dreams, yes, but you can't bear to take credit, can't bear to be the face of them. you don't let yourself get close to anyone except the man you've built all of this with, who you love more than anyone else. you don't let anyone touch you (except him) and you don't touch anyone. you convince yourself you don't deserve his love or anyone's, that you're not whole enough for that.

you take it so far that, when you finally have the technology you think can cure your terminal illness, the first thing you try to fix is your leg. not the thing eating at your lungs and cutting short the time you thought you had, but the leg which has marked you as Other your entire life. and even though it doesn't quite work, even though it still causes you pain with every step, you force yourself to run on it — faster and faster until you're outrunning the ships and screaming because you may have visibly "fixed" your leg but it still hurts the same.

and when the system is not only oppressive in the material sense but also set up to make you hate yourself, there is almost no escaping this cycle of self-hatred. throw in the fact that in season 2 viktor keeps getting tossed from resurrection to resurrection against his will and it's no wonder the man did the things he did. it doesn't excuse them by any means, but arcane is not interested in excuses — it's interested in what makes people do the things they do. everything that he did to the people in the commune was a reflection of his own self-hatred, both because he still possessed it after death but also because, since he was programming the hexcore to try and save his life but started with "fixing" his leg, it is designed to make people as physically "normal" as possible. the faceless, identical machine people are a metaphorical representation of the ideology viktor has bought into in his pursuit of self-hatred and internalized ableism. his whole arc across both seasons is a demonstration and condemnation of the ways that systems of oppression reinforce self-hatred in the people they are oppressing.

obligatory disclaimer #2 that I don't think arcane did everything right. I'm frustrated with the direction of season 2 away from the piltover/zaun class conflict and towards the broader league of legends universe. but I do think, as a disabled person with a very similar experience of my disability to viktor, that this arc is well-done and very compelling. in the end, what saves the world is viktor accepting that he is deserving of being loved. I'm going to be thinking about this one for a good long while.

[calliopesdiary]

i wish i were heather...

synopsis: you were under the impression that you were stable in your secret long-term relationship with three of the four marauders, until it becomes clear that you aren't the girl they want anymore. (so you think). will you lose them before its too late? or have you already?

pairings: fem!reader x poly!marauders ` poly!marauders x lily evans

warnings: NO LILY SLANDER!! SHE'S PERFECT AND BEAUTIFUL AND ITS NOT HER FAULT!!, cusswords, ANGST, depressing, a blip of reader skipping meals on the radar but it's srsly nothing crazy, insecure reader, the marauders besides peter are dicks, reader is a little naive, the marauders borderline cheat on you, no happy ending, there might still be one thoughhh, possibly slytherin!reader if you squint?,

part one in the conan gray series

A/N!!: In some of the fic i use colors to represent a certain character! Orange is Lily, Red is James, and Green is Barty :3

wc; 2.4k

LIFE WAS AMAZING, which is not usually how stories begin.

You felt so safe and secure in your secret relationship with Hogwarts' once most eligible bachelors... The Marauders.

The rush of excitement that coursed through your veins every time you shared a hidden glance with Remus, or hiding in the showers of the Gryffindor boys locker room with James after his quidditch victory, and sneaking off to empty classrooms where anyone from anywhere could catch you with Sirius.

It was heavenly, these boys were all you would ever need.

until... now.

You were in Remus' sweater, he said it looked better on you than it did him. If only he knew how much you liked him...

The fireplace erupted with a citrine glow, illuminating the Gryffindor common room beautifully.

Most impactfully, it lit up Remus' scar-kissed features.

His freckles looked as if they were painted onto his face with careful hands by a renaissance painter.

His eyes half-lidded from his lack of sleep from the incoming full moon that was slowly approaching, it pained you to know how much they hurt him.

For once, Remus wasn't in a sweater. Since his was rested comfortably on your body, as your scent comforted The Wolf greatly.

And his scent comforted you, too.

Remus' book had suddenly landed on your lap, and though it startled you a bit. You didn't bother to ask why, until you sat up.

Remus was locked in a passionate conversation with Gryffindor's resident golden girl, Lily Evans.

"Evans, it's lovely to see you."

"Same to you, Lupin."

Godric, was she beautiful.

"I just stopped by to see if you had gotten any of the Defence Against The Dark Arts homework done?"

Lily Evans was as radiant as an angel who blessed anyone with her presence.

"I have; actually, I just finished my paper."

Remus seemed mesmerized by her, the golden gleam from the fire painting her features gorgeously in that same citrine glow as Remus'.

"Could I have a look of it? Not to copy it- obviously, I just want to see how others are wording the question."

You weren't even half as pretty as Lily.

"Of course, and I know you'd never cheat."

"You're the smartest witch in our year."

You tried not to mind other girls flirting with your boys.

Just because you knew that later that night they'd be back to your boys again, and only yours.

As she was about to go, she planted a soft kiss on the side of Remus' cheek, leaving him blushing softly as he bid her goodbye.

Your heart clenched, it was merely a pleasantry. You were being dramatic.

"Are you alright, dove?" Your head perked up at the sound of Remus' voice.

"Hm? Yeah, I'm fine." You mused, albeit a bit absentmindedly.

"Are you tired?" He asked carefully.

"I am, actually..." You forced a sweet smile onto your lips, as he leaned down to kiss them softly.

That kiss was the last one that felt anything more than a chore, an obligation.

That was also your last kiss with Remus.

Cheering James on at the quidditch pitch was just the thrill you needed after that melancholy moment with Remus.

He soared through the field like he was on top of the world, the players scattered around the pitch for one common goal: to win.

Gryffindor had won the game with 60 points, and James had caught the snitch like usual.

This game was also a rain game.

Just as you were about to head down to showers when you spotted Lily excitedly trailing after James.

You knew full well that James chased Lily tirelessly since they started school, that was also well before you came into the picture.

You also knew that she wanted nothing to do with him or the other marauders, so what was with her infatuation now?

Why your boys? She couldn't find her own boys?

But maybe she was just being friendly, right? The boys would never ever cheat on you... right?

You heard Lily giggle as James so graciously held the curtain open for her to enter the locker room, and your heart clenched.

You followed them in, jealously.

"James?" You called, as James poked his head from the changing area. Sweat glistening off his abs.

"Hi, Y/N." He shut the curtain behind him, as if he had something to hide.

Also; he barely just called you by your first name.

"You didn't come to see me after the game?" You questioned, grazing his cheek gently as he spoke."

"Sorry, Y/N. It was a long one." He excused, as he clearly looked a bit flushed.

"You look red, are you dehydrated?"

"Godric, y/n. you are hardly my mum."

You giggled as if it was a joke, yet he seemed quite stone faced.

You cleared your throat embarrassingly once you realized.

"I... just wanted to congratulate you on another win." You forcefully smiled again.

"Thank you, I really appreciate that." Then, he flashed his classic grin at you.

The grin he hadn't flashed at you since he realized he genuinely liked you.

What the fuck?

"Victory kiss?" You asked quietly, with some false hope mixed in.

"Of course." He pecked your forehead quickly, before hurrying off back to his changing area.

And with that, you had also left the steamy tent and outside into the cool, soft rain once more.

A forehead kiss? whenever he used to give you victory kisses they'd be full-on make outs in that same changing room or the showers.

James was falling out of love with you, and you knew it.

Luckily, you could easily disguise your tears with the excuse of it raining.

"Victory kiss?" Lily mewled, from her position on the stool in his changing spot.

"Just on the forehead, lovely."

You stopped showing up to breakfast, as the one time you decided to go Lily was sat in your spot next to Sirius.

Dorcas was nearly at her wits end with the boys and their antics.

The motley crew of Slytherins were the only ones who knew of your relationship, and they were pissed off.

"Treasure, surely they aren't fucked enough to know that you are the best thing they've ever had!" Barty explained, laying upside-down on his bed across from you.

"I-It's no use, Jr." You cried softly, mirroring his position yet on your bed instead. The tears (and blood) rushing to your hairline instead of your face because Dorcas said 'Your makeup is too pretty to ruin, love.' .

"There is a use, Y/L/N. we'll kill them-"

"Jr, absolutely not." Regulus chided, rubbing your shoulder. "She's clearly upset, I don't see the issue."

"Murder is never a good option, Barty." Dorcas scolded gently.

"So what are we gonna do then? My Treasure can't go on like this!"

"You said you've already talked to James and Remus? Maybe you can go talk to... eh... Sirius." Clearly, that name was hard for Regulus to get out.

"*Sniff* yeah, yeah- I'll go talk to him..." You sat up half-hazardously, and strutted out of the dorm-room to go (hopefully) save your relationship.

You still remember the third of December.

Sirius lounged on the couch while speaking with the other marauders, about some sort of prank on the other group of Slytherins.

"And then, we'll-"

"Hi, Siri." You sat next to him, beaming up at him (hopefully).

"...y/n." He greeted casually, before continuing to talk.

Your smile faded, as he continued to talk to your other boyfriends friends about this horrible prank.

Instead of leaving, you sat quietly next to them, as if you were some decoration or trophy wife.

This was truly your breaking point, as you saw Lily sit down on the couches of the common room as she caught all of their attention, you hadn't seemed to do that for ages. Though, she was wearing something familiar...

Remus'... sweater...

Remus'- YOUR Remus' sweater.

"How's it look?" Lily asked, giving them a twirl. Their eyes locked on her.

"Gorgeous, doll." Sirius flirted, shooting her a wink.

"Truly a sight for sore eyes." James grinned.

"It looks better on you than it did me." Remus took her hand and helped her sit down on the couch in between him and James.

That's exactly what he said to you...

He put his arm 'round her shoulder,

suddenly you got colder.

She's got them mesmerized... while you die.

But how could you hate her?

She's such an angel...

But then again you wished she were dead.

"Why would you ever kiss me?" You asked impulsively.

"What?" James looked up from Lily, all eyes on you.

"I mean- I'm not even half as pretty."

"Y/n, You're overthinking it-" Remus started it.

"You gave her your sweater!" You shot back.

"It's just polyester!" Remus defended.

"But you like her better." You felt the tears rush to your waterline.

"We're done." You whispered, leaving Lily looking so confused and the common room dead quiet.

"What does she mean by that...?" Lily seemed horrified.

"We... weren't really dating.." Sirius attempted to defend.

"Yes, we were, you tosser!" James shoved him.

"You said yourself that you were bored of her!" Remus stated matter-of-factly.

"Was I seriously the other woman?" Lily mewled, her hands clutching the sides of her head.

"Nonono- No, we were planning to break up with her but- because we all wanted you-" Sirius tried again.

"Then don't fuck around with her feelings just to get me!" Lily yelled, standing up quickly.

"I appreciate the admiration- but I need time to process, okay? You all were absolute... arseholes to her, I'll admit." Lily started,

"Are you saying no?" James quickly cut in.

"...No..." Lily ended.

After crying your eyes out to Barty and Regulus over your breakup, December 7th rolled around.

The day that students were meant to be studying for their OWLS and other end of term exams.

You would usually be in the library 24/7.

Lily, had finally come around and accepted the boys' proposal, and their relationship became public quickly.

Lily obviously still felt this bitter taste of guilt in her mouth, as did all of them.

So today, Lily had convinced them all to apologize to you for borderline cheating and lying and manipulating and gaslighting-.

But, you were nowhere to be found.

"Regulus! Regulus, wait up!" Lily ran through the hallways to get to her.

"Evans, Brother.. Potter... and Lupin.." She said those last three names with utter disgust.

"We're trying to find Y/n, have you seen her?" Remus asked quietly, he was definitely feeling the most guilt.

"Y/n? Well, If she was here, I think she'd completely refuse to see you lot." Regulus explained bluntly.

"W-What do you mean "If she was here"?" James questioned.

"I mean, Her, Junior., and the Rosier twins completed their OWLS early and hightailed it to Junior's holiday house for the rest of the break." He explained casually.

"What?" Sirius scowled.

"What the hell is my girl-... Y/n doing with them?" James had the same expression as Sirius.

"They are simply better friends then you were to her, hm? I don't blame her."

"When will she be back?" Lily asked breathlessly.

"End of December, If she ever returns." Regulus strolled away, potions book in hand.

"...We fucked up."

Fin.

[txrully]

WATASHI NO AIDORU SAMA!

summary: IN WHICH BLLK BOYS DATE AN IDOL!

characters: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, chigiri hyoma, hiori yo, shidou ryusei, itoshi sae, michael kaiser, alexis ness.

warning: fem! reader implied

isagi yoichi

isagi is in awe of you. your determination, charm, and the way you captivate an audience—he’s lowkey your #1 fan. he’s also the boyfriend who overthinks everything. is he doing enough? are you eating properly? is his goodnight text too basic? but when you’re overwhelmed by the pressures of being an idol, he’s the one who brings you back down to earth with his soft smiles and reassuring words.

when he attends your concerts, he tries to keep a low profile, but the way he beams when you glance at him gives him away every time.

"yoichi, they caught you smiling like a lovesick puppy in the crowd."

"but you looked so cool up there! how could I not?!"

"next time, at least wear sunglasses."

"then how will you see me cheering for you?"

bachira meguru

bachira lives for the drama of dating you. the glitz and glam? he loves it. sneaking into your dressing room mid-rehearsal? absolutely. he thrives on making you laugh, especially when the idol world feels too suffocating. he even suggests the most ridiculous disguises when you want to go out, like matching frog hats or dressing up as old people.

he’s also not shy about flaunting your relationship, sending chaotic selfies to your fan club and saying, “aren’t we cute?” yeah, he’s banned from your socials now.

"bachira, stop posting pictures of us!"

"what? they love me. look, 10k likes already!"

"i will revoke your access to my phone."

"awwww :("

itoshi rin

rin doesn’t care about fame, but oh boy, he cares about you. the media knows him as the stoic, no-nonsense soccer prodigy, but behind closed doors, he’s your biggest supporter. he secretly streams your performances and even sets your songs as his alarm (though he’ll deny it if you ever find out). when you’re busy with schedules, rin shows his love in quiet ways—making sure you eat, sending random texts like, “don’t overwork yourself. i mean it.”

but paparazzi catching him sneaking into your concerts? yeah, that’s not part of his plan.

"you know they saw you, right?"

"tch. who cares?"

"rin, they’re calling you my biggest fanboy on twitter."

"...well, they’re not wrong."

nagi seishiro

nagi finds your idol schedule exhausting just hearing about it. but he loves you, so he makes the effort. he’s the type to show up to your rehearsals half-asleep, holding your favorite snacks. when you’re performing, though, he’s laser-focused, recording every moment because “you look cool up there.”

he also doesn’t get jealous often, but when a fanboy gets too enthusiastic, he’ll casually sling an arm around your shoulder and deadpan, “she’s taken.”

"sei, were you napping backstage?"

"mm. comfy couch."

"you’re unbelievable."

"but i got your favorite chips."

"...okay, forgiven."

mikage reo

reo is the ultimate boyfriend-slash-manager. need help with your contract? done. overwhelmed with schedules? he’s already booked a spa day for you. he’s your rock in the chaotic idol world, always reminding you that it’s okay to take a break.

he also spoils you shamelessly—designer dresses for red carpets, private dinners after concerts, and the fanciest bouquets delivered to your dressing room.

"reo, you didn’t have to buy out the whole bakery just because i said i liked their croissants."

"but you deserve the best."

"...i’m keeping the chocolate ones."

"all yours, my love."

chigiri hyoma

chigiri gets it. as someone constantly in the spotlight himself, he knows how draining it can be. he’s always there to hype you up, whether it’s helping you perfect a dance move or rehearsing lines for interviews. when you feel insecure, he’s the first to remind you of how talented and beautiful you are.

his favorite moments are when it’s just the two of you—no cameras, no fans, just quiet walks or lazy afternoons.

"hyo, do you think i’m doing okay?"

"you’re doing amazing. and even if the whole world doesn’t see it, i do."

"you’re too sweet."

"only for you."

hiori yo

hiori loves your passion for performing, but he worries about how much it takes out of you. he’s the type to leave little notes in your bag—"you’ve got this!" or "don’t forget to eat!"—and surprise you with coffee during long rehearsals.

he doesn’t love the spotlight, but for you? he’ll put up with it, even if it means sitting front-row at your concerts surrounded by screaming fans.

"yo, are you okay? you looked uncomfortable out there."

"yeah, i’m fine. just not used to being around so many people."

"next time, i’ll get you noise-canceling headphones."

"i’ll wear them if they have your voice recorded on loop."

shidou ryusei

shidou lives for the chaos of your idol life. paparazzi? fans? scandals? bring it on. he thrives on being the center of attention, especially when it involves you. he’s the boyfriend who gets caught sneaking onto stage mid-performance just to blow you a kiss.

he’s also fiercely protective, ready to throw hands with anyone who disrespects you. but when it’s just the two of you, he’s surprisingly soft, reminding you why you fell for him in the first place.

"ryu, you can’t just interrupt my concerts!"

"what? they loved it. besides, i missed you."

"you saw me five minutes ago!"

"five minutes too long."

itoshi sae

sae isn’t the best at expressing his feelings, but his actions speak volumes. he doesn’t show up to your events often, but when he does, it’s with flowers in hand and a rare smile just for you. he admires your dedication but worries you’re pushing yourself too hard.

he’s also your harshest yet most supportive critic, always giving honest feedback because he wants you to be your best.

"sae, was my performance okay?"

"it was good. but you can do better."

"...you could’ve just said you’re proud of me."

"i am. but you already knew that."

michael kaiser

kaiser adores the spotlight, and dating you? it only adds to his charm. he loves flaunting your relationship, whether it’s through matching outfits or casually mentioning you in interviews. he’s cocky, but his support is unwavering, always hyping you up like your personal cheerleader.

he’s also lowkey competitive, challenging you to see who can trend on social media first after a big event. spoiler: you always win.

"kaiser, stop refreshing twitter."

"i need to know if we’re trending."

"you’re ridiculous."

"ridiculously in love with you."

alexis ness

ness is the sweetest, most wholesome boyfriend. he’s constantly in awe of your talent and works hard to make you feel appreciated, from writing you letters to learning your favorite songs on the piano. he’s also your biggest fan, always gushing about you to anyone who’ll listen.

he gets flustered when fans recognize him as “your boyfriend” but secretly loves it.

"ness, are you blushing?"

"n-no! i just—your fans are so nice."

"you’re adorable."

"not as adorable as you."

© txrully :: 2024

do not copy, translate or plagiarize my works.

[thanatos-heard-somewhere]

Yep. I didn't lose my weight when I exercised. I've gained it. Because you don't even start to imagine how different in size one kilo of fat and one kilo of muscle mass are, so, practically, meat. Let me tell you it's hell of a difference. Also, persons who have menstrual periods or just are inclined to be swollen can gain weight out of nothing. Like, if it's too hot, or too much water, or just the time has come. During he month even your weight is shifting. And this is normal.

For example I have the 2nd type diabetes, hypertonia, coronary artery disease, kidneys problem, joints problem and, probably, huge troubles with my uterus. I don't count general hormonal troubles, because all the above kinda describes my health enough already.

So, my weight is something like 98-100 kilo (217-220 pounds probably?) with the height 170-172cm (so, approximately 5.64ft) and I have kinda tummy and hips that mess with my life from time to time. In the society's opinion I can't cosplay most of the characters. And I can't look good as long as my mass index is "not normal" . They say I'm unhealthy because I'm fat. But it's completely vice versa. I have extra weight because I'm not healthy. And this is not my fault. Btw, abuse and massive stress cost me a lot in it. I was like 130 kilo when I lived with my abuser, because of shitty food and overeating. And weight kinda normalized to 100 on it's own after I leave the abuser and my birth country. I look healthier now than ever in 10 years.

I wasn't diagnosed in time, bc medical care for AFAB persons in my birth country is based on two points: "you need to give birth and everything is gonna be fine" and "you gave birth, what do you want from you body, it's worn out now". And my current country is not much better in this case. Because everyone just shit on the AFAB anatomy and health researches. Because of patriarchy. And patriarchy itself is set up on unhealthy beauty standards. So, a double bind. From time to time I don't know why exactly I hate my body. Because it have boobs and uterus or because I have extra weight. And I hate the fact that I need to try to figure this shit out at all.

Dietibg sucks, I just try to lover my sugar at least a bit, and it's a number of reasons for it. Chronic depression can be worsened by the tiniest things, and I won't provide it any possibility to drag me down. PMDD is already enough for me.

Me: Exercise does not cause weight loss. This is a fact that has been demonstrated so robustly in research that even doctors, who hate and fear evidence, are grudgingly starting to admit this.

Someone reading that post: Cool, but have you considered that exercise leads to weight loss?

Me: I am going to eat you

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 12: The One Where We Start Laying the Yellow Brick Road to Italy

I realized the other day that, even though I like to bounce around from place to place in the Lukola timeline, I probably needed to start tightening things up on the ship if I ever wanted to get to the end of the story. And, yes, dammit, this story better have a finale at some point because there’s nothing more annoying than an open-ended ending, particularly in the romance genre.

Today we’re going to take a quick jaunt over to Italy because –

NO! Not because Luke is allegedly filming there. If you’re into real-time stalking, you’re in the wrong blog. But, I’m sure there’s a Discord for that.

It’s because I’ve had several people ask for my opinion about the change in behavior between Luke and Nicola during their Day 1 interviews there. Wait – people are interested in my thoughts? Wow, that’s actually kind of nice. Thank you! Okay, back to what I was saying –

Was there a change in behavior when Luke and Nicola reached Italy? Yeah, actually, there kind of was.

By May 9, we had been gifted with a slew of material from Luke, Nicola, and the Bridgerton cast and, I must admit, those early interviews are some of the most entertaining of the tour. In the very beginning, Nicola appeared as the utmost professional – charming, intelligent, and witty at the right moments – and Luke played her likeable counterpart to “Book Colin” perfection – bouncing between being awkwardly boyish and wickedly roguish, all while looking at Nicola like she had just served him homemade peanut butter crumble.

The two of them together, playing off each other, in my opinion, was better than Bridgerton Season 3 (you cannot beat the World Tour being 99% Luke and Nicola, with only a few random side characters taking up screentime). There was some major “Electric Love” radiating from those two throughout the tour, but it seemed very much heightened in the beginning (probably because they hadn’t yet answered the same question 67 times). By the way, if you haven’t heard that song by Børns, go have a listen. It will, at the very least – hopefully – put you in an upbeat mood for the day.

Now, where was I? Oh, yes – was there a change in behavior between Luke and Nicola when they reached Italy?

Absolutely.

Do I know why?

Absolutely not.

Perhaps Luke was bent because someone spilled his coffee, or Nicola was upset because her stylist made her to wear that little silver bow in her hair. In my opinion, the most intriguing part of Day 1 of the Italy press junket was that Luke and Nicola struggled with answering the question, “What is love?” I swear they both babbled on like two kids in debate class who hadn’t bothered to read the material given to them before taking their respective podiums. They finally seemed to settle on Luke’s “Maybe it’s, like, connection.” Well, they seemed to be missing the “connection” that day.

Honestly, no one can explain their “don’t stand so close to me” vibe during those first day interviews except Luke and Nicola. But, we can at least have some fun and speculate about it with a bird’s eye view. At this point, you should know that I love spreading the puzzle pieces out and seeing how they might all connect. Most people – when putting a puzzle together – start with the side pieces, right? You’ll get my joke in a moment (I hope).

In March 2024 – I don’t know the specific date because my timeline is rather murky going back that far (I was unaware Lukola even existed!) – Luke traveled to Los Angeles for a photo spread with InStyle magazine. I’ve heard two versions of this story. The first being that Luke traveled to Los Angeles with Antonia alone; the second being that he traveled to Los Angeles with his friend group, which included Antonia. I couldn’t tell you which is true, and it really doesn’t matter because it doesn’t necessarily add or take away from today’s story.

Before I get started, I wanted to give a “hurrah” to The-One-Whose-Group-Chat-Fills-in-Lots-of-Missing-Bits-for-Me-Including-the-Part-Where-Video-Footage-of-Antonia-in-Los-Angeles-Seemed-to-Indicate-a-Celebrity-Was-Not-the-Videographer-and-There-Were-So-Many-British-Accents-in-the-Background-One-Would-Fancy-a-Guess-She-was-Traveling-with-a-Group.

Moving along…

On April 7, 2024, Antonia posted a series of photographs and clips to her Instagram grid indicating she had been in Los Angeles, including one where she was laying on a blanket in front of the Griffith Observatory and one where she was sitting at a table marked with the number “95.” On April 14, she posted a second set of photographs, tagging her location as Beverly Hills, California and using “End of Beginning” as her audio (yes, I side-eyed this choice of music so don’t feel bad if you did as well). The second photo dump included her lounging on a rooftop.

I’m not going to delve into posts made by Luke and Nicola during that timeframe. I mean, I’m sure Nicola’s comment, “’Friends’…sure Jan,” on Luke’s April 11 reshared post about Bridgerton Season 3 was only meant to be applicable to Polin. And, if Luke wanted to use yellow and black hearts to represent the colors Nicola and he were wearing in his April 12 post, that’s cool, too. And, I am definitely not going to speculate on Nicola’s April 15 post (for Big Mood) that Luke liked, and she captioned, “I will bite off anything that dangles.”

By April 21, Luke and Nicola were in Australia at the World Premiere of Bridgerton. I am only going to provide a quick overview of Australia instead of a full-fledged recital because, at some point, I will almost certainly dedicate an entry to this country. Let’s start with Luke pulling off the hottest walk-up in Netflix human history (I mean, have you watched it in slow motion?). Then, we had the hard launch of the handholding business (because why again?). And, we had Luke tripping over his words, “We’re very, like, giving…I’m not talking about those scenes…” Oh, and Nicola telling an interviewer that, “[y]ou can’t keep a good girl down,” and, in response, Luke’s lips curling into a wicked-ass Cheshire cat's. We had them in the garden, with Nicola bending down to hug Luke after she had scratched/hit/petted his head. Perhaps I should not mention the possibility of a man’s shirt being visible on a bed behind Nicola (I said possibility not that it was). And, Nicola telling Luke, “You’re the funnier one,” when he was concerned that perhaps Benedict was funnier than Colin. Then we had the “Nicola-in-the-green-dress” day where, as they were going down the steps, Luke seemed to instinctively reach for Nicola’s hand, but she played it cool and took his arm instead. Oh, and that entire “green dress” day in general (I mean, there was so much shit going on that day). And, best we do not forget Nicola saying, “the best foundation for love is friendship,” which mirrored the bracelet “someone…in Australia” gave Luke that read, “Do you believe the best foundation for love is friendship?” Because that’s not suspicious at all. Alright, let’s get the fuck out of Australia – but not before I mention Nicola commenting on Luke’s April 27 Instagram post with “Ready for the next?” and Luke replying, “Absolutely.” Yeah, yeah, yeah, their shenanigans in Australia expanded the USS Lukola tenfold.

Oh, also, let me throw this in here because, if you are a “ring truther,” this fact plays a significant role in the Lukola timeline. If you do not know what a “ring truther” is, that’s perfectly fine. You can catch up by reading Entry 6 (The One Where I Explained the Claddagh Ring to My Dad) of my blog. I mentioned in Entry 6 that some Lukola sleuths have stated the metadata they pulled from the sketches of the Claddagh ring uploaded by Chupi indicate they were done as early as April 26. In other words, it means the Claddagh was likely commissioned between Australia and Italy. In fact, if we are to believe Chupi when it said it took four weeks to make the ring, then it had to have been commissioned by May 9, 2024, at the latest. Oh, lookie there, that’s Day 1 of the Italy interviews.

But, before we get to May 9, let’s pause on April 29. That was the day Luke’s InStyle spread was published – yes, the one I mentioned earlier. Luke has pictures from this photoshoot still on his Instagram grid – in fact, Nicola commented, “Yess dude!!” on them – but those aren’t the pictures I want to talk about. No, I want to talk about the pictures InStyle posted on its Instagram grid that day. These photographs came directly from Luke, which was confirmed by the InStyle article when it said, “…the actor delighted the InStyle team by delivering the polaroid photos he’d taken for this story tucked oh-so-carefully in a little brown bag for safekeeping.” The pictures Luke provided, among others, included one where he was laying on a blanket in front of the Griffith Observatory in Los Angeles; one where he was sitting at a table marked with the number “95;” and one where he is sitting in a lounge chair on a rooftop. If you want to see the pictures, InStyle still has them available – you just need to go through hundreds of posts to find them. Luke did not like this InStyle post, which was kind of odd because he was tagged in it, and they were reportedly his pictures.

Why did these InStyle polaroids seem so familiar?

Oh, that’s right, because they were.

Remember that April 7 post of Antonia’s I mentioned a bit ago? Yeah, the one where Antonia posted a bunch of random pictures from Los Angeles and – only after InStyle posted Luke’s polaroids – fans realized Antonia had preemptively posted her version of some of Luke’s polaroids.

I am not going to speculate too much about these pictures or their implications in this blog post, but these pictures may resurface in future posts because I find myself side-eyeing the fact they even exist. And, we should probably accept that Luke was aware of them before his pictures came out on April 29 because he threw a like on Antonia’s April 7 post. Could it have been a “blind” like? Sure, I guess, but the logical side of my brain says he probably looked through them at the time she posted. Let’s not worry too much about it right now, though.

After trying to write out my “general” opinion about the pictures several times, I finally decided that the best way I could articulate my thoughts was through the conversation I had with my father. Yes, Dear Dad returns again for another insightful Q&A.

I started by showing Luke and Antonia’s three “matchy” pictures to my dad and then asked him to compare them. To be clear, the pictures were their respective Griffith Observatory, Table 95, and Rooftop Lounging pictures.

Me: “So what do you think?”

Dad: “About what?”

Me: “Ugh! Why did Antonia take those pictures?”

Dad: “Well, to show she’s part of the ‘in’ crowd. The only reason I can see them being taken is if she was going to put them on the Internet.”

Me: “Uhh, as a matter of fact, she did put them on the Internet! Approximately three weeks before Luke’s were published.”

Dad: “See! I’m not as dumb as you think.”

Me: “Whatever. So, you really believe that? She took them to show people that she was, like, there?”

Dad: “Yeah. Why else would she take them? They’re not the kind of photos you’d take normally. What’s she going to do, put them in an album and show her friends in five years and say, ‘Look, I sat in Luke’s chair?’ Who does that? Nobody. Plus, Luke’s pictures look like they were taken with a polaroid camera and Antonia took hers with, I guess, a phone. Why use two different cameras? Again, it doesn’t make sense. Seems to me like she knew what pictures he was taking, and she was trying to copy them so she could put them on the Internet.”

Thanks, Dad.

You do not have to accept my father’s thoughts on the photographs. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. However, I think we can meet in the middle and opine that, at a minimum, Antonia’s pictures caused the weak Lukolas to jump overboard; at most, they gave some people stalker vibes; and somewhere in between, they introduced Antonia's negative influence over the fandom and what some may consider trolling behavior (even if it wasn’t recognized then).

Now, before we land in Italy on May 9, let’s summarize what has happened during the preceding two months.

First, we had Luke traveling to Los Angeles in March with Antonia, either alone or as part of a friend group. Luke had pictures of himself taken while there.

Second, we had Antonia posting pictures in early April that would be linked directly to Luke’s pictures by the end of the month.

Third, throughout the month of April, we had Luke and Nicola traveling together for the World Tour. We have all seen these interviews, and we have all formed independent opinions about them.

Fourth, based on Chupi’s own words, we know the Claddagh ring must have been commissioned no later than May 9.

Okay, now we’ve reached May 9, Day 1 of the Italy press junket.

Besides the press interviews, what happened on that day?

Well, Antonia reposted Luke singing Coldplay’s “Yellow” to her TikTok account.

Uhh… Huh. Interesting.

I mean, it’s possible that this was just a coincidence and she just liked Luke’s version of it. Or, it’s possible Antonia knew that “Yellow” was the Polin wedding song and she anticipated trolling Nicola and/or the fandom with it. But, if we believe she knew “Yellow” was the Polin wedding song, that means either Luke told her, or someone with that knowledge told her (i.e., someone from Luke’s team or family/friend group). We also know that Luke mentioned this song in the May 16, 2022 Netflix Tudum article when Nicola and he were asked about their song choices for Season 3. Luke stated his frontrunner was “Yellow” by Coldplay “because of Penelope’s dresses.” Regardless of why Antonia posted the song, I find it hard to imagine Netflix, Bridgerton, Shondaland, Nicola, or Luke were too impressed by Antonia resharing it on TikTok. I mean, at this point, Netflix & Co. would surely have been aware that Antonia’s “copycat post” went over with the fandom like a wet blanket in December in Canada. I imagine some questions were being asked and Luke may very well have received a hand slap from Corporate – and maybe even from Nicola.

But, that’s not the only thing that happened on May 9.

Luke posted his Homme magazine spread to his Instagram grid on that day, too. He captioned the post, “Chatting through all things S3 with @hommeplusmag [o]ut next week x.” Nicola commented, “Yessss,” and Luke tagged his post with the location of Hackney, London. That last part – about Luke tagging the location in Hackney – apparently sent the fandom into a deep-dive of…Nicola’s backyard. Why? Because Nicola lives in Hackney (Nicola herself confirmed she lived in Hackney in a March 18, 2024 interview with Derry Now), and rumors started to circulate that Luke’s pictures were taken at her home.

Hmm, I didn’t realize May 9 was such a busy day, did you?

So, which came first – the chicken or the egg? Did Antonia repost “Yellow” to her TikTok before Luke posted his Homme in Hackney images to Instagram, or vice versa? I’m sure someone out there has this information. The answer might help shine some light as to why Luke and Nicola seemed “off” in the early part of their Day 1 Italy interviews. But, then again, does the order really matter? Regardless of who posted first, it would seem to me that “Yellow” was a very possible culprit for the different energy on set that day.

That, or Luke really was peeved over someone spilling his coffee.

[livingsurreal]

More thoughts and theories about our favorite Necromancer

My darlings, I have too many thoughts and my obsession is running wild. (How I missed you, hyperfocus). If you have read my last meta post about our Emmrich, here it is: First Meta Post

That is not a required read however. I am still wondering why anyone is reading my word vomit U_U

Anyway, I love reading other peoples theories, so please, send me yours. <3 And a lot of thanks and love for all you darlings who make this fandom such a beautiful and nice place. Especially to @jaal-ama-daravv - who makes the most beautiful videos, and writes such wonderful character studies.

Warning, from here on there will be spoilers as well as mentions of sex. If you don't want to read about any of that, do not read the rest.

Also pictures and way too many words. This is a ten page word document, save yourself while you can. I tend to go off on a tangent once I start writing. I am also well aware that not everyone will agree. This is just my personal read on Emmrich.

Now, after my first essay I have some more thoughts on Emmrich and Rook and specifically their intimate relationship.

Emmrich is such an interesting and baffling contradiction. On the one hand he is confident, self-assured, all manners and poise. He is smart, and he knows it. He has special gifts, and he knows it.  He is confident without being proud. He likes to teach others without being arrogant. He still likes to learn about new things and is, as far as I’ve seen, never judgmental about different beliefs and ways of life. (Unless someone treats him with disdain or bully him)

He is a man who is confident speaking of his thoughts and feelings and fears. How he just casually drops his thanatophobia is just astonishing. He is honest and open-minded in the best ways.

And then there is the other side of him. The wet kitten side of him. As open and honest as he is about his emotions, when we get to the meat of it, to the scary bit, the real feely bit, he locks up completely. As long as it is surface level (or he can pretend its surface level), everything is up for discussion. But once we reach deeper and touch *love* he gets so scared and refuses to admit and commit to his feelings. And as much *death* scares him, love scares him more.

So how does that influence his intimate relationship with Rook?

According to the banter with Lace “everyone knows about it”. He was rather surprised by that.

That tells us two things:

They were trying to be sneaky or at least keep their private business private.

They failed, massively.

Add to that Laces comment about them moving rather fast (when, where? I would have loved to have seen that. Comments like that just give me the feeling that we should have had some more cutscenes after the dinner date, to show us those two besotted fools).

But back to them moving rather fast. I would guess that they both did a lot of gazing lovingly at each other, blushing, spacing out while watching their darling, stollen kisses in the hallway when they thought no one was watching, stuff like that. Just being to besotted fools.

But moving fast usually includes sex. Lots of needy, sweaty sex. The inability to keep their hands of each other.

That moves us to the question of the day – did they have sex before their coffin time?

Let’s look at what we know about Emmrich. Emmrich is no virgin. That man has experience. He had past lovers. But what he tells us at that sweet diner date – “nothing serious for years.” We know not much else besides his crush on a boy in his youth and his fling with the Orlesian Art Lady. He is not someone to kiss and tell and that is appreciated. That man has class, and we love him for it.

So - nothing SERIOUS for years. If he hadn’t had ANY relationships in the past years, he would have said so. But what he says is that he did, in fact, have UNSERIOUS relationships in the last few years.

I would read that to be somewhere along the “fwb, lovers, affairs, paramours, companions, a fling, a little romance” line. Something not purely, but mainly physically driven. Someone you like and respect, you can go out and have a good time with, have lots of amazing sex with (b/c he is a living being and has his needs). Spending time with people he liked, was sexually attracted too, but nothing as serious as love. A physical relationship. A little thrill, some fluttering, but never that deep.

Not to say that those situationships would not have been romantic. He is (buried under all that resignation) a deeply romantic man. I am pretty sure he went on nice romantic dates with his previous paramours too. That this is something he just enjoys too much. Treating a companion with some quality time, not just in, but also out of the bedroom.

But after he’d given up on his dreams, he did not have any notion of those flings being more than a “enjoy the moment”. There was never the expectation of deeper feelings, beyond friendship, attraction and/or respect. All those romantic gestures were nothing more than a little bit of “play pretend”. To give himself the illusion of true romance, just for a little time.

Take the fact that you can go a “everything you do is creepy but I still flirt with you and I want you to throw me over that tombstone” and his comment on “the attraction of the forbidden”? This is not a relationship born of mutual respect and deeper feelings but out of purely physical attraction. And he is OK with that.

I want to repeat – Emmrich is very much okay with a casual, sexual affair. He does not require love to have a relationship with someone.

And then think about that Johanna calls Rook specifically his “paramour”. Which is a lover, especially an illicit one. This word was very specifically chosen by Johanna. For various reasons, I would think.

For one, I do believe that it is a dig at his dreams of the eternal flame. It’s a dig at him, that Rook is not his love, but his paramour. A lover for a time. To be parted from soon enough. B/c that silly dream of his, as if it ever would become reality.

Second, I think it is a comment on the way his relationships often went, especially in the past years. Those unserious flings of his. Never to amount to anything substantial.

Did he try to have something serious in the past? Oh yes, for sure. But it never worked out. Then he gave up his dream and just let himself have a good time with people he found to be nice and attractive.

To pick up my point of self-sabotage from my last meta post – I’ve come to a point where I believe Emmrich is a kind of chaser. I know someone like that and it’s so fucking tragic.

Emmrich feels deeply and strongly. When he falls in love with someone it’s a lot of emotion. But at that point it’s all dream, want, wish. As soon as someone returns these feelings - those dreams, wants and wishes become reality. And reality is scary. In this wishful dream about the eternal flame, there is no fear. No fights. No loss. But that is not reality. As soon as it becomes reality, he gets scared. Before, his feelings were no threat, because you can’t lose what you don’t have. Once those feelings are returned, there is a clear possibility of losing, of being lost, of being left behind.

Emmrich is not a chaser because he enjoys the hunt. He is a chaser because being loved by someone is scary. So damn scary. So, he starts to pick fights and is looking for excuses. From being the chaser, he becomes the chased. He is hunted by his fears, and his fight or flight instincts go all flight.

After years of this cycle he gives up. Resigns himself to flings and little romances without even thinking of more. Or so he thinks. Dreams like that don’t die, they just get buried.

And I’d think that there was not many, even of those short term flings, lately. His life revolves around work and Manfred.

Now remember he comments on Rook “showing unexpected interest in a new companion”.

First of all – unexpected.

They are a daring adventurer. He thinks of himself clearly as the more boring one, compared to Rook. He never expected any of those flirts. But he is clearly flattered.

Second – companion.

That was such a weird way of saying “hey do you like me?”. This whole “companion” thing does not scream “I have FEELZ for you/you have FEELZ for me” but rather, “I think you might want to spend some quality time with me”.

The possible answers - dashing good looks, kindness, his way of words.

He feels he is fortunate if Rook thinks him good looking. Hallo, Mr. Professor, sir… Have you looked in the mirror lately? Consider that he is meticulously grooming himself, takes his exercises daily in the morning. That man does not like himself aging. I think it is a reminder of how his pending death is a step closer every day. But it shows, to him, that his efforts of taking care of himself are not in vain. Or maybe it shows him that his age does not matter. Rook finds him attractive despite (or because) of his physical age.

Rooks comment on his very charming way of putting things makes him hope his years behind the lectern have proved useful. Hey *years* behind the lectern. Again, this is a way of saying his age is NOT a problem but a benefit.

If Rook remarks his kindness, he answers “you humble me”. It’s the one answer that does not touch his age/experience/looks. It’s a remark on an innate character trait he possesses. Kindness. His whole demeanor in this option shows he is actually touched. And maybe a bit baffled. He did not expect this, at all. Its like he sees his kindness not as an attractive trait. Which he should. He is nice without TM and its sexy as hell.

The next part is his statement “If your attentions go beyond charming flattery… that would interest me, indeed”. This reads to me not necessarily as “do you have feelings for me” but as “do you just enjoy the flirting, or do you want to do more than flirting?”

And oh boy, does he want to do more than flirting. I want to repeat my earlier statement – this man has given up on love. But some little fling with an exiting young adventure who was constantly, awkwardly flirting with him? Hell, yeah.

(I want to remind you that we were able to have mutually enjoyed flirts with Dorian as fem!Inky. You can flirt with someone and still never want to fuck them. And you are also perfectly able to want more than flirting without having deeper feelings. Like sweet, dump Shepaloo said it so eloquently “Lets bang, okay?”)

Again, I want to pick up a point of my last post, that this is all surface level thoughts. I do believe that their emotional attraction and depth of feelings go deeper, from the start. But how often does it take quite a bit of time to realize one’s own feelings. Especially this wonderful, silly man whose modus operandi is running away.

Now, an interested Rook can answer in an open “lets see where this goes” way. Mirroring his rather open idea of a little romance, a fling, some quality time. Something that does not have to end in an eternal flame, but a simple enjoyment and exploration of the moment.

Rook can also reply with a “I think they do.” – What Rook actually says is “I think they already…”

And conveniently Rooks answer here is cut short by our sweet boy Manfred. They get cut short, no matter what answer you choose, but in this specific case, I am convinced this was very much on purpose. What would the whole sentence have been?

“I think they already go way beyond flattery.” (?!?) Something along those lines. But that goes into danger zone. WAY into danger zone.

If Rook had finished that sentence, at that point in their budding romance? It would have been over before is all started. Too much, too soon. Too much for him, period.

Now we have the hard lock – their sweet romantic moment in the Memorial Gardens. And he is smitten. He fell hook, line, and sinker for his own play pretend. Just a little romance, but that man is falling, fast. (Not that he would admit that to himself).

A beautiful date, all arranged by Emmrich, to spend time with Rook. Because a couple should have a quite moment to get to know each other. I mean there were menu cards with gilded edges, ffs. And, oh yes, they were “lets dig into the feelings”, he said couple. He is falling, falling, falling fast. But it still hasn’t hit him, how deep he has fallen for his darling Rook. Poor Emmrich.

Then a fight, where we really see the wet kitten side of him for the first time. A little wet, feral kitten, hissing at the hand that’s trying to feed it.

Emmrich is lashing out for no good reason (or no good reason for anyone but himself). There is no real confidence there but a desperate act of pretending. An iron (slipping) grip, trying to control himself and the narrative. Shoulders squared, back straight, an arrogant stance, raised chin, turned half-away from Rook, and a condescending way of talking to Rook.

Like I said in my last post – he is working his way up to breaking up with them. And he tells himself it’s like ripping off a bandaid. Be strong and confident and say what you have to say, and they will see the wisdom of that.

It’s only that, they don’t. Because there IS NO wisdom in what he is doing right now. They don’t take his bullshit but throw it back at him. They don’t accept his mock excuses.

Look at him here, how he looks down ON them. I can’t recall any other time he looks down on Rook, despite him being a tall king.

Especially the route where Rook throws it in his face that he DOES in fact love them. Speak what he can’t even think.

“I can’t… At my…”

“I can’t love you. At my age…” Why not? Does he not deserve love, just because he is a bit older? It’s just heartbreaking how he views himself.

And again, he lashes out.

“I am perfectly serious.” So is Rook.

“One of us has to pay attention to these things.” As if Rook is not paying attention. They got to the meat and bones of his problem in just a few seconds.

No matter what route you go here, the gist is the same. He is scared shitless, treats Rook like a child, and goes on how the is the only one thinking the important thoughts.

When Rook in reality way ahead of him. They thought about it and came to the conclusion that being with Emmrich is a really good idea.

Rook knew they were falling for someone older than them. (Even if that age difference is just a decade, with a mid-40s Rook.) They knew it, and still went with it. They are not a child who is too inexperienced and stupid to make decisions about their (love) life.

But now, here, at this moment? Emmrich treats them with disdain. Like a silly little person, who does not think things through. He holds himself above them. Physically and mentally. They are too young, he knows better.

And not once has he done that before. He always treated them as an equal. He follows them into the most dangerous situations ffs. He trusts them with his life in a fight against would-be gods.

All that fear and anger at himself that reaches a new high get redirected at Rook.

The next day they are off to Tearstone Island. That night must have been hell. For both of them. But its going to get much much worse.

In any case, Emmrich seems to have come to some conclusion or realization, because on that island? He apologizes.

They both did react very emotionally, but he came at Rook with superiority and, to a certain degree, dishonesty. All fueled by his fear. So that he is the one to take the first step and apologize to Rook instead of doubling down? An important step. As I said in my last post – he NEEDED to be called out. A sweet and nice counterargument would not have had the impact Rooks raw an honest emotion hat on him.

Emmrich “Rook? Darling? I wanted to say-“

Rook “Yeah, about that argument…”

Emmrich “(Sighs) It’s no time to apologize, is it?”

And here we have the most heartbreaking line, in hindsight. “We’ll talk back home, Emmrich. I promise.”

(Narrator: but they would, in fact, not talk about it back home. Because someone would not go home.)

One fight and weeks of horror later, they find themselves in a private crypt and finally they do more than share a kiss.

Now - to the point I originally wanted to explore with this post – is this in fact their first time? (I am sorry, but my brain is a circle and nothing makes sense)

Let’s look at what evidence we have from the cut-scene.

Rook did not know he is an early riser.

That leaves two possibilities:

They never had sex up until that point.

They did have sex, but never spent the night together.

Now what does that mean?

This depends a lot on your personal Rook and how they feel about sex in general. If Rook wants to wait, or is not ready, he will absolutely accept and respect that.

But for the sake of this analysis lets go with the idea that Rook is not opposed to sex at an earlier date.

They never slept with each other

Why? He clearly was not opposed to casual relationships in the past. What would hold him back now? Especially if you recall Laces comment about them moving fast. Why not jump into the bedroom?

Now my first crack theory is that they get interrupted, like every time. (Rook interrupted The Dread Wolf, and now he cursed them to always be interrupted when they want to have some private time)

But now, in all seriousness, maybe it’s just that part of him DOES realize that this goes beyond a very unserious relationship. That they both have deeper feelings, that spark of something greater, something beautiful.

So, he holds back. He does not give his all. He is charming, he is flirty, he takes Rook on dates. But it’s all very technical. Very performative. Yes, he is a very romantic man, yes he enjoys those moments. But there is always a feeling of control.

Those moments when you see him let go a bit (that kiss beneath the eternal lovers, “I think, sometimes you indulge me”), are so beautiful and you glimpse a bit of the man behind those walls.

He has a tell, you see. (I am telling you about it further down)

But generally, he feels very much in control of himself. And to lie with Rook? To go all the way? Too dangerous. Who knows what happens in that sweet moment after la petit mort? What secrets would his lips spill?

2. They slept together, but did not spent the night together.

They do have sex, but sleep alone in their own beds. Casual sex is fine, but to fall asleep in each other’s arms? Too much. Too real. Sex okay, but sleepy post coitus cuddly? Woah, slow down your horses.

So, they have sex, preferably in Rooks bed. First, does he even have a bed? Second, it’s way easier to leave Rooks bed after the act, than throwing them out afterwards.

Oh, and how many reasons he has. Rook needs their uninterrupted sleep; they are stressed and must have proper rest. He wants to get some reading done before he retires. He needs to look after Manfred.

Oh, he is a bad liar, for sure. He is lying more to himself than to Rook. I would think that (if this is the build up to their fight) Rook realizes that he is giving poor excuses.

And the sex itself? A technical 10/10. He knows his anatomy, after all. But his heart is not really in it. He can’t allow himself to. He holds back, keeps a tight lid on his emotions. They both are well spent afterwards, but like so much else, it’s performative. Technically very well executed, but rarely do you see HIM, the real him, behind all that performance. Whenever something slips through, he reels back and closes up.

And then we are in that crypt. Rook was gone for weeks. The last thing they said that night before were words of anger. Rook called him out on his feelings and from that point on there was no possible way of lying to himself anymore. Those feelings were there. They were real. Rooks feelings were real. And those weeks spent in desperation, trying to  get them back? Those walls came crashing down.

His true face, when all the walls are gone? You see that face when Rook leads him to the coffin. There is no pretense anymore. No performance. Just him, and all his love for Rook. The amount of emotion the animation team packed into those short moments in the cutscene? Mindblowing. Who ever crafted that expression on his face? They are the GOAT. I watch this part of that scene on repeat, and it never gets old.

So, I told you about how he has a tell, yes? Okay, two actually, but we all know surprised pikachu Emmrich. In that last scene it is resolved in the most beautiful way.

He looks down, when something touches him deeply, when he goes into his feels.

A few (way to many) examples:

And the worst wet kitten look? After the fight, when Rook leaves.

Its a look of shame. Of hurt. This man is hurting so badly.

Now here at the end we have that moment when Rook leads him to the coffin. His face turns down, like before. But here he looks up at Rook. He does not turn his eyes away but looks directly at them. Ahhh my heart.

Now, think about the fact that ROOK is leading in that moment?

In those moments where Rook leads or startles him (or is simply annoying enough so that the truth slips out), you see the most emotion from him.

Rooks flirting startles him, and he has a pikachu face reaction every time.

Their first kiss? Rook leans against the monument, and leans up, telling him without words that NOW is the time for a kiss. How can he not go for a second kiss?

That moment when Rook calls Manfred “our son”? He very conveniently ignores the word “OUR” and goes in defense mode over the word “son”. But called out on his feelings for Manfred? How can he deny them? He has tears in his voice when he says how he would not exchange this moment for anything? A real, deep emotion.

In their fight Emmrich is again all technical, all performance, so logical (or what he sells himself as logic). But Rook wrestles that moment from him and takes lead, calls him out on his bullshit.

In the crypt Rook pulls him up into a kiss and then leads him to the coffin, guiding him, taking him with them.

Most of the other times he takes the lead, very much in control. But the most emotions you get from him, are those times Rooks leads, when he lets go of this tight control over himself, or he is startled in to a reaction. For all the age difference that is played up in their relationship, in the important moments Rook is the one who guides. And he follows where they lead.

Those little moans he makes? If they did have sex before, I bet he did not make those sounds then. Where they did have some incredible sex, now they are making love. Open, vulnerable. He gives in.

And then they fall asleep together. Skin to skin, arms and legs intertwined. Their hands caressing, no sound but that of their heartbeats and soft breaths. Pure and utter contentment. In that moment nothing exists but them. Can you imagine that moment he woke up? The amount of emotions he must have felt then? This need to speak those little words? Those huge little words. He does not say them, not yet. But he is almost ready.  

Finally, they stand there, on the battlefield of Elgar’nans madness. And he tells Rook. The last wall falls. Gives the most precious thing he can give to anyone.

“I love you.”

[the-king-andthe-lionheart]

And what really blows my mind is that JD created Criminal Minds which does suggest he should be better versed in psychology and how ones background and circumstances influences their development and yet you'd never know it from watching TW.

But seriously, reading the transcripts was eye-opening at how much didn't actually make sense. For instance, in S2, right before the full moon, Isaac questions Scott's loyalties with Derek, and then Derek finds out Scott's betraying them and hides him and his betas away. And yet, Isaac is walking around not long after all willy-nilly in front of Gerard and making friends with Scott, whom he should know already, is working with Gerard via Derek. It makes zero sense. All the characters are extremely flip-floppy and make no logical sense.

Honestly, I feel like TW tried to be both a comedy and serious and it stunted a lot of characters, particularly Stiles as they basically refused to develop him outside of "comedic relief researcher" when it made zero sense for him to remain pretty defenseless the whole time, especiallywith a cop for a dad and law enforcement aspirations of his own. Like they could have developed him magically or gave him hunter training, especially with Allison gone. Except nope, strictly comic relief. ����

Also, one thing I also noticed is how all the characters are written to be assholes of varying degrees, which IMO is kind of lazy and I think only was done to add to the "comedy" with them saying some of the rudest, most hurtful, and insensitive things. Like, yeah, they were all kids pretty much, but still, it was over the top. Not all the characters needed to be assholes of varying degrees.

It's just really disappointing, to be honest. I didn't realize how little the show made sense and failed the characters until recently, and I've been in and out of the fandom since 2013. 🙃

teen wolf meme - 3/10 characters ↪ erica reyes

[punkshort]

The Farmer's Daughter

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader one-shot

Summary: Forced to sell your body after your father's farm went under, you find yourself hand picked to service the Roman army on their latest battle away from Rome. What you didn't expect was to be selected to share General Acacius's room for the duration of the journey.

Warnings: language, smut (18+ MDNI), heavy talks of prostitution, mentions of SA but none occur, reader is a (new) prostitute, virginity loss (no blood mentioned just some discomfort), descriptions of battle wounds/blood, food and alcohol consumption, one bed trope, enemies to lovers-ish, unprotected piv sex, thigh riding, angst, possessiveness

WC: 10.2K

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

A/N: I know by this point his character is mostly referred to as Acacius in the film but I'm sorry, I can't wrap my head around someone moaning that name in bed. So let's just ignore that, okay?

How did this happen? Why did fate play you such a cruel and twisted hand?

When you were younger, you expected to be married off to be a housewife to a solider. From what you heard growing up, it wasn't a terrible life. The men were gone most of the time which allowed the women to run the household and raise children in peace. Unfortunately, your mother died during childbirth and your father, a humble farmer, passed away too early in life, leaving you and his few workers to keep the farm operating for as long as possible. To make money, you spent much of your time at the market, selling the food you made on the farm and the goods you weaved and molded from the scraps.

It wasn't enough. You lost the farm after a handful of years and you were on the brink of becoming destitute. Already you were malnourished and dehydrated, but as hard as you tried, you couldn't find work.

That was how you found yourself in a long line of women, standing silently with your heads bowed and your hands clasped as you were all throughly inspected by a senior officer of the Roman army. They were choosing their group of whores to hire to accompany the men on their next battle across the sea. You were left with no other option but to sell your only remaining asset. The thought turned your stomach, but the idea of starving to death was worse.

One by one, women were hand picked to step forward and exit the room. All in all it had to have been close to forty whores hired to service an entire army.

The odds were not in your favor if you were picked.

It came as a relief when you ended up not getting chosen. You breathed a deep sigh and lifted your chin, scanning the room of remaining women and senior ranking soldiers. You would make do somehow. At least you wouldn't be spreading your legs multiple times a night for different men after they've spent the day fighting and working up their appetite.

You turned to follow the women back out onto the streets of Rome, no doubt searching for another way to sell their bodies, when you heard a deep, familiar voice call your name. You froze in disbelief, wondering who could possibly know you, and then you slowly turned.

It was General Acacius. The fearless leader of the Roman army, but you knew him from your stand in the market. Whenever he was home from battle, he always found you and purchased more than he could possibly need, feeding you and your farmhands for weeks. He never said much and neither did you, but you had grown fond of seeing his greying curls and dark, smoldering eyes approach your stall, albeit with a new wound or scar to show for his travels.

You did not even realize he knew your name.

His eyes drifted up and down your worn tunic, noticing the stains and rips and your poor fitting sandals. Your gaze flickered nervously around the room at the other men impatiently looking to wrap up their work and begin their long journey, but remained silent, deferring to the general.

"You will come with us," was all he said, his voice booming in the small room. Your blood ran cold and panic seized your throat.

"But the choices have already been made-"

"I am paying. I believe I am allowed to decide how many whores we bring along."

You clamped your mouth shut, brows furrowing in anger. How foolish you were to assume he was a man of honor, a man who wanted to help you when he bought your meager wares in the market. As it turned out, he was no better than any other, only out to seek pleasure between your legs.

At that point, you knew better than to argue. Your fate was sealed. Begrudgingly, you forced yourself to follow after the other chosen women, walking past the high ranking officials who sized you up as you went.

The army was to travel by ship. Or multiple ships, to be exact. The women were counted off and told to stand in smaller groups, one handful of whores for each ship of hungry soldiers. When your group was assigned, you heard that familiar powerful voice come out of nowhere once again, stopping everybody in their paths.

"She is to travel on mine," General Acacius announced. A few men exchanged confused glances and Acacius grew irritated. "That one," he clarified, pointing directly at you. The other men quickly nodded and shuffled you into another group, and you thought that would be the end of it, but then he spoke again as the others began to board.

"She will stay in my chambers."

If the soldiers were surprised, they hid it well, but you didn't. You whipped around and glared at him defiantly, a litany of disrespectful curses on the tip of your tongue. Thankfully, you remembered your place and who you were speaking to and caught yourself before you got killed, but as you turned to board the ship, you noticed an amused smirk play across the general's lips.

A young solider shoved you into the general's quarters, ordering you to not go through his things or they would cut off your hands, then slammed the door shut, leaving you all alone. The rest of the women had gone below deck, most likely to a shared room that was filthy and freezing cold. You, on the other hand, had a beautiful soft bed and a roaring fire to warm yourself by a small wooden dining table. There was a bookshelf tucked into the corner and your fingers itched to pull the books out and examine them, but you didn't dare. Instead, you sat on the small cushioned bench next to the only porthole in the room, tucking your knees against your chest protectively while you waited for the inevitable.

Sleep took hold of you at some point while you waited for the general to retire. The last thing you remembered was the open sea and the glorious golden sun beginning to dip just below the horizon. When you awoke, it was dark, the only light in the room coming from the fire. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and unfurled yourself from your bench to look around, then nearly yelped when you found the general quietly sitting at the table pouring himself wine.

Your heart raced violently in your chest, knowing full well what he expected of you. And despite offering yourself up earlier that day as a whore, you had decided you would not do it for this man. Because this man came to your booth in the market under the guise of kindness that turned out to be a lie, and it simply did not sit right with you.

"I will not lie with you willingly," you announced boldly with your arms crossed. The general quirked an eyebrow and took a long sip of his wine.

"When was the last time you have eaten?"

You scowled, body vibrating with energy and ready for a fight only to be met with indifference.

"I am not hungry."

"You will eat or you will die," he said, avoiding your eye and standing to collect a plate of food by the door. He dropped it onto the table and pointed angrily at it. "Eat."

"Why?"

"You need your strength, you are frail."

"You do not like your whores thin, then?" you shot back. Acacius clenched his jaw, eyes still cast down. "You wish to fatten me up so you have something to hold onto when you force my legs apart?"

"That is enough!" he roared, fiery eyes finally finding yours and pinning you with an intense stare that had you trembling. "I will not be forcing you to do anything except eat. Now sit down, do not test my patience."

It was a combination of fear and hunger that made you obey, sinking down into the chair opposite his where the plate of lukewarm food awaited you. Acacius sat down and picked up his goblet, watching you from over the rim as you slowly began to pick at the food. You both remained silent while you ate and he drank, the only sound to be heard was the crackling from the fire and the distant laughter and yells from his men in the galley below.

He was right. You hadn't eaten in days. It was no wonder you fell asleep so quickly earlier. You wanted to express your thanks, but you were too stubborn. Instead, you finished your food and put the plate in the basin of water by the door before looking around the room once again. It was easily the nicest room on the ship. You had to imagine most of the soldiers would be sleeping in hammocks stacked on top of one another down below, but the general had the biggest, softest looking bed you had ever seen in your life.

But there was only one.

He watched you from his place at the table, studying your face as you worked out the mechanics.

"I will not force myself upon you if we share the bed," he said, dragging your attention back to him. He was still in his armor, all shiny and clean from the public celebration that took place prior to the army's departure.

"Why am I here, if not to pleasure you?" you asked. You sounded calmer than before but you were still very much on edge.

"You believe I would find pleasure in forcing myself upon a woman?" he questioned before draining his cup. You thought about it for a moment and shrugged.

"Perhaps. Yes."

He stared down at his empty chalice, your heinous opinion of him rolling around in his head and making his chest ache.

"Well, I do not," he proclaimed, standing up quickly and causing his chair to almost topple backwards. He began to unhook his heavy armor, dropping it into a pile on the floor until he was down to his tunic.

"If we were to lie together, it would be because you wish it so," he said softly with his back to you. You swallowed thickly.

"What am I to do here, then?" you asked as he began to turn down his sheets. He slid his tired body into bed and sighed.

"Whatever you like. So long as you stay in this room, you will remain unharmed."

You blinked rapidly, desperately trying to put the pieces together.

"That is all?"

"Yes. That is all. My only wish is you are safe and fed."

You couldn't help it. You had to ask.

"But... why?"

But the general rolled onto his side, effectively ending your conversation and leaving you wondering what you had gotten yourself into.

That first night, you did not share his bed. You slept on the bench by your porthole, curled up small, arms wrapped around yourself protectively until the sun rose. When you awoke, the general was gone, but a plate of food was left on the table for you.

The first week on the ship went exactly the same. You stayed in his chambers, staring out at the sea or sleeping until he returned way past dark with some food for you and a tired look in his eye. And every night, you slept on the bench, still far too distrusting of him.

The second week, the general brought a game with him at dinner time. Two cups and two wooden dice. The idea was you had to guess what you would roll. If you won, you got whatever you bet on the round. It wasn't that entertaining at first since you had only the clothes on your back and nothing else, but what you did have were stories or songs or a slight of hand trick your father taught you when you were young.

You wouldn't realize until much later that it was his way of getting to know you better.

"You released all the cows from the pasture?" Acacius repeated in disbelief. You giggled and nodded.

"I was only six years old! I thought they were being held against their will!"

Acacius laughed, the sound making you grin like a fool and your cheeks warm.

"Alright," he said once he got ahold of himself. "Go on."

You picked up the die and tossed them into a cup, giving it a firm shake and smiling when he shot you a playful wink.

You clapped the cup firmly over the table and before you raised it up, you announced, "One three and one five."

"What is your wager?"

You nodded towards his bookshelf. "One of your books."

He looked up at you in shock. "You can read?"

You gave him a fake look of disgust and nodded. "Of course I can read."

"And you have been here this whole time without picking up a book?"

"Your men told me they would cut off my hands if I touched what is yours."

His face softened and he sat back in his chair.

"No one will touch you," he told you firmly. You stared at one another, the heavy moment weighing between you, the implication of his words impossible to deny. No one will touch you because you are his.

To break the tension, you smirked and said, "So I suppose that means I do not need to wager the books?"

Acacius grinned and shook his head. "Too late, little one."

You rolled your eyes and lifted the cup, pouting when you saw two six's.

"Your turn," you said, pushing the cup to the side.

Acacius collected the dice and dumped them into the cup, shaking it while looking at you curiously from across the table and admiring the way the light from the fire flickered over your beautiful face.

"You can still take a book."

You perked up but shook your head. "That is against the rules of the game, General."

"I make the rules. Take a book tomorrow," he insisted before slamming the cup down. His large hand gripped the top of the cup, keeping it pressed tightly against the table.

"Your wager?" you asked, cocking your head to the side.

He swallowed, wondering if he should say what he wanted to say. The fear that you would pull away from him again fought against the insatiable attraction he had harbored for you for years. But the wine must have won the fight because he said, "One kiss."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and for a moment, he thought he made a horrible mistake. But then you squared your jaw and narrowed your eyes and said, "Go ahead."

He grinned, pulse thrumming excitedly in his throat when he said, "One one and one four."

But when he lifted the cup, his face fell. A three and a six.

"Ah, well," he said, shoulders drooping. He yawned and stood to collect the dice. "Better luck tomorrow."

Before you could stop yourself, you stood as well and leaned up to peck a chaste kiss against his scruffy cheek. He looked at you in surprise and you gave him a crooked grin.

"For the book."

He smiled and nodded, doing his best to hide his disappointment as you got yourself ready for bed. You had a small pillow and thin blanket to curl up with by the porthole, and it irked him that you wouldn't take more. He feared you would catch a sickness and your malnourished body wouldn't be able to fight off an infection, but you were so stubborn that he couldn't convince you otherwise.

However, the third and final week at sea had you shivering on your bench. Acacius could hardly sleep knowing how cold you were. He could hear your teeth chattering from across the room.

"I beg of you, please sleep in my bed," he said one night as you began to make your little nest by the porthole. You shook your head.

"I am fine, I swear it."

"You are not fine. Please, I will not touch you, you have my word."

You chewed on your lower lip and looked over his shoulder at his warm, plush bed. He could see your resolve begin to falter, so he offered to sleep on the bench in your place.

"No, do not be ridiculous. You have an army to lead tomorrow, you cannot be tense as a knot because you slept on a too small bench."

"I will if it means you are safe and warm," he said softly, his vulnerability taking you off guard.

"General-" you sighed, but he cut you off.

"Please. I promise I will remain on my side of the bed. Just stop being so stubborn for once in your life."

You scoffed and propped your hands on your hips. "For once in my life? And what would you know of it?"

He squinted at you and crossed his arms. "I know more than you think. I know you would not quit until you broke in that filly when you were twelve years old. I know you nearly pushed a boy down a well when he tried to kiss you in front of the whole school. I know you argued with your teacher over the correct spelling of amaranth and I know you poured every last bit of yourself into a dying farm just to keep the memory of your father alive."

Your jaw hung open in surprise, taken aback by the way he stored all of the little snippets of your life you had given him over the past two weeks only to end it with his own observation of you at the market.

You could feel yourself growing weak for him, the temptation to give in too much to bear. He had been slowly wearing you down since you arrived and perhaps he was right, perhaps you were far too stubborn because the last thing you wanted to do was go back on the proclamation you made that very first night.

So, you chose to be defiant.

"Fine," you snapped, swiveling on your heel and stomping towards his bed. "If you wish to share your bed with a whore so badly, then so be it."

Acacius rounded the bed and slipped in beside you, making sure to leave plenty of space.

"You and I both know you are no whore."

"Oh, you know so very much about me, I forget."

You tugged the heavy blankets up to your chin and tried not to audibly sigh at how comfortable it was in his bed.

"If you are a whore, tell me then: how many men have you laid with?"

You clenched your jaw, angry that he was able to figure you out so easily. Instead of answering, you rolled onto your side, your back to him, and muttered, "good night."

Acacius grinned and closed his eyes, proud of himself for besting you.

"Good night."

The following morning, you awoke earlier than usual. When your eyelids fluttered open, the first thing you noticed was the ache in your bones was gone. The large, soft bed had been enough to cure you in just one night.

Not something you planned on admitting to the general, of course.

The second thing you noticed when you sat up in bed was that the ship was not moving. It was completely still, and you could hear loud, quick footsteps outside your door and above your head. Men were shouting to one another and the clink of swords and armor were echoing throughout the halls. Then, through the walls somewhere above you, you heard the general's deep, booming voice yelling orders to his men. You threw off the blankets and hurried to the porthole, your eyes widening when you saw land and small boats being lowered into the water.

You had arrived at whatever distant land the emperors demanded Acacius claim for Rome, and the soldiers were getting ready to depart for their first fight.

You chewed nervously on your nail, curled up against the wall and peering out the window for hours until the very last boat sailed away. In the distance, you could see the general's broad back covered in armor, his dark curls fluttering in the sea breeze and his massive sword tucked dutifully at his waist.

He had left for war and didn't even say goodbye.

Why would you care if he said goodbye? Maybe if they all die, you could escape to shore and be free, find a new city and make a home for yourself.

Even you had to admit that fantasy was foolish. No matter where you went, your fate would always be the same. You had no money, no prospects, no skills and no family. Your destiny was already written and it was a miracle your first attempt at prostitution landed you in the cushy quarters of Rome's surprisingly respectful general.

Your nerves kept your feet moving all day. You tidied up the general's desk, sorting his papers and maps. You scrubbed at the dishware until they sparkled and you made the bed, fluffing up the pillows and tucking in the loose edges until you had nothing left to do. The room was as neat as possible, not a single item out of place, and yet you still floundered around looking for something to occupy your busy mind.

When the sun began to dip and his room grew darker, you went around lighting candles to allow for more light. You were in the middle of lighting the last candle when you heard a timid knock at the door.

Nobody had ever come to his chambers the entire three weeks besides the general himself. You swallowed anxiously, wondering who it could be and if you should answer when you heard a woman's small voice from the other side of the door.

You decided it was safe and opened the door a crack to find one of the whores you had boarded the ship with waiting on the other side with buckets of water and a basin.

"For the general," she said softly. You nodded and dragged the buckets into the room, trying not to stare at the bruises and dirt littering her dry skin. Your stomach twisted with guilt after she left and you locked the door. The other women were living like cattle and you were living the life of luxury. Not only was the general not forcing you to fuck him, but you were giving him sass at every turn.

It was a harsh reminder of your fortune, of what your life could be like. The thought of living the life of the women below deck frightened you, so you had decided that evening when the general returned, you would give yourself to him to show your appreciation, as well as out of fear he would soon get rid of you if you didn't give him what he wanted.

You remained at your post, staring out at the dark sea until you could see the bobbing of lanterns making their way across the black expanse, letting you know the men were returning for the night. You rushed to warm up his water over the fire, dumping it into the large basin. You poured some scented oils into the bath just as the door unlocked and opened, revealing a very filthy and exhausted looking general holding two plates of food.

"Good evening," you said, standing obediently. Acacius paused at the door, confused by your formality before closing it with his heel and setting down the food at the table. "I have a warm bath ready for you, General," you added, pointing towards the basin. He nodded tiredly and began to work on the hooks of his armor. You rushed forward to help him, once again taking him by surprise until he was stripped down to his red tunic.

"Would you like to eat or bathe first?" you asked. The general sighed and looked longingly at the bath.

"I will clean myself while you eat," he said. He pointed towards the table and motioned for you to turn around.

"May I assist you instead, General?" you asked with your back turned. You could hear the shuffle of fabric falling to the wooden floor and then a sharp hiss when he sunk down into the warm water.

"Assist me with what? Cleansing myself? I believe I can manage," he chuckled. You turned around to stare at the back of his head, his body now submerged in the water and hidden from view, but you could still see his shoulders and arms. They looked bruised and bloodied.

He didn't notice your eyes on him, of course. He was busy scrubbing the dirt and blood from his skin while he looked around the tidy room.

"It is very nice in here, you did not have to straighten up."

It was the least you could do and you knew it but said nothing.

Instead, you shakily lifted your worn tunic over your head and let it crumple to the floor. Nerves fluttered in your stomach as you slowly approached him, the general completely unaware as he continued to scrub his skin.

"I can think of another way to assist you," you said nervously as you stepped into his eyeline. His chin tilted up and he did a double take when he saw your naked form standing before him. His cloth dropped into the water and his jaw fell open in surprise, eyes wide and greedily raking over your body.

"Wh- what is this?" he stammered, gaze glued to your chest. Your fingers fidgeted at your sides under his scrutiny.

"I thought I would show you my appreciation for your hospitality," you explained. "I would like to repay you in some way for choosing me to share your quarters."

A small smile tugged at his lips as he eagerly reached forward, then stopped when he registered your words. He looked up at you questioningly, excitement falling from his face when he asked, "What do you mean, repay me?"

You shrugged and took a hesitant step forward, close enough now so he could reach out and touch your cunt if he chose.

"I realized today my fate could have been much harsher," you explained. "I have not been showing you my appreciation and respect, and in return, I wish to give you my body to use as you see fit."

Acacius frowned and turned his head away, searching for the cloth so he could continue cleaning himself.

"I do not want your body as payment, I believe I told you that weeks ago."

"You said we would not lie together unless I wished it so," you protested. "I now wish it."

"You wish to lay with me out of obligation, not desire. That is not something I want."

Embarrassment and confusion flooded your mind as you slowly stretched your arms across your exposed body, trying to hide yourself out of shame.

"I apologize-"

"Get yourself decent and eat," he commanded without looking up. His voice sounded hard and cold and for some reason, it made you want to cry. You did as you were told, dragging your dirty tunic over your head and sat quietly at his table to pick at your food. You were confused and ashamed, sitting in the tense room with him while you tried to work out what he wanted from you. The idea of wanting a man out of desire never occurred to you. You had grown up under the impression women of your station did not get to experience the luxury of desire, and instead came to terms early on in life that you always had one asset to use at your disposal.

Not one time did you ever imagine being with a man out of affection or love.

"I apologize," you tried again after he had dried off and joined you. He had changed into a clean, white tunic and was clenching a similar one in his fist.

"You may use this," he said, ignoring your apology yet again. He thrusted the tunic towards you and you fumbled when you took it from his grasp. "The one you are wearing looks as if it might fall apart the moment you step outside and feel the sea breeze."

"Thank you," you murmured, fingertips brushing over the soft and expensive material in your lap.

"I will also call for more water tomorrow so you may wash yourself," he said before biting into a chunk of bread.

Your cheeks went hot with shame, still feeling guilt over the mercy and generosity he had shown you.

"I do not know what it is to desire someone," you said after a few quiet moments. Acacius continued to chew and kept his focus fixed on his plate. "I never imagined it would be a part of my life. May I remind you we come from different worlds."

He grunted in response but you noticed his shoulders begin to relax.

"I understand. But you must stop treating yourself as a whore. You are so much more than that, I have seen it with my own eyes. And to watch you debase yourself, to think so lowly of yourself, breaks my heart."

Your breath caught in your throat and you felt tears begin to well up, quickly threatening to spill down your cheeks. How could you have been so wrong? How could you not see the man for who he really was? He was a man who was gentle, kindhearted, protective and most importantly, cared very deeply for you. To what extent, you were unsure, but if he wanted you to desire him and he saved you from being used by countless other men, he certainly must have harbored stronger feelings than you ever thought possible.

"Alright."

His dark eyes flicked up to yours when you spoke.

"I will not debase myself," you said flatly. The corner of his mouth twitched before he looked back down at his food.

"Very well. I am pleased that has been sorted," he replied before shoving his plate off to the side and standing to collect the cups and dice. "Shall we play a few rounds before bed?"

You grinned and nodded, gathering up your plates and dumping them in the water by the door to clean later before joining him back at the table. And somehow, the awkwardness from the evening faded away after a few rolls of the dice.

It had been two weeks docked off shore on some foreign land. You hadn't left his room in over a month and you were beginning to feel insane. You told him as much early one morning when he was dressing for battle. It was still dark outside. Acacius had mentioned he wanted to arrive on shore before dawn so that he might get into position under the cover of night.

"When I return tonight, I will take you up on the deck for some fresh air," he promised as he cinched up his armor. "Do not leave this room when I am not here."

"Why not? Are your men not with you during the daytime?" you asked from his bed.

"It is not my men I worry about," he explained, sheathing his sword after lacing up his sandals.

"Then what do you worry for?"

"I worry about everything," he confessed. His hand was on the doorknob poised to leave, but he stopped to turn to you one last time. "I do not trust the soldiers from this city not to try to climb aboard the ships whilst we are gone. It is important the ships appear empty."

You nodded in understanding before burrowing back in his sheets and he couldn't help but smile at the sight of you looking comfortable and radiant in his bed.

"Behave, my dove, and we may dine on the deck tonight," he said, making you smile wide. He slipped quietly out of his room and locked the door behind him, fearful if he lingered any longer, he may not leave the ship the whole day.

You spent the afternoon reading and bathing and cleaning the general's dirty clothes in the extra water he had brought up after he left. You weren't sure how it happened, but the two of you had fallen into a life of domesticity amidst war without even sharing so much as a kiss.

What surprised you the most was you enjoyed it. You enjoyed tending to his things and cleaning what you could during the day, and then caring for him at night when he returned all bloodied and tired.

It had not once crossed your mind that he may not return until it happened.

That night, you saw the lanterns bobbing over the water, your signal to begin heating up his water for a bath. Your hair smelled like the expensive oils you poured into his water from your own bath earlier. You smiled to yourself when you thought of smelling like him, and him of you.

Heavy footsteps landed on the wooden floorboards above your head and outside your door. At first, nothing seemed amiss. Acacius usually didn't come to his room right away. He typically visited the wounded soldiers in the infirmary, making sure they were well tended to and fed before doing his rounds, assigning a night crew, and then finally gathering food for you both before retiring for the evening.

But more time passed than usual. You could tell because your stomach began to rumble and his water grew lukewarm. You paced around the room, ears straining to hear the voices from the other soldiers, trying to discern anything from their muffled conversations.

It wasn't until two hours went by that you heard a sharp rap at the door and a man's voice echoing on the other side, announcing he brought you food.

Your blood went cold and you wondered if you should open the door, but then you remembered Acacius told you he wasn't worried about his own men, the underlying message being that his soldiers would never touch what was his. So after a moment's hesitation, you swung open the door.

"Here," a young man said, shoving one plate of food towards you. His face was stained with dried blood and dirt and you frowned before taking the food and thanking him softly.

"Where is the general?" you asked timidly.

"He fell in battle," he grumbled before turning away. Your heart plummeted as you reached out and grabbed his shoulder, taking him by surprise.

"What do you mean?" you exclaimed. Fear and adrenaline mixed with something foreign coursed through your veins as you felt your lower lip tremble. The solider shook you off with disgust before stepping back.

"He was struck down. Last I saw of him he was lying still on the battlefield."

When he saw the look of despair on your face, he took pity on you.

"Others were assisting him, his body will return to Rome," he assured you before giving you a firm nod and disappearing down the long hall, leaving you to collapse into a fit of sobs behind the locked door.

The feeling you had in your chest was similar to the way you felt when your father passed, but something was different. It felt like a piece of you went dark, like you may never smile or laugh ever again. Grief consumed every fiber of your being and you found yourself crawling into his bed, face streaked with tears so thick you could hardly see your hands reach for his pillow. You pulled it tightly against your chest and you curled up around it, muffling your wails until your head began to pound and your body felt weak.

You drifted in and out of sleep, tossing and turning until the room grew cold and the fire dissolved into embers. You stood and wrapped a blanket around yourself, sniffling and shuffling over to the fire to stoke the flames wearing the general's spare tunic he had gifted you. After a few minutes, the fire roared back to life and you sat back with a heavy sigh.

Just as you were wondering what you would do come morning and how you would ever be able to move on without him, you heard footsteps approaching. You whipped around in fear and tightened your grip on the blanket. With the general no longer around to protect you, you had assumed the other men would eventually come looking for you, but you had to admit you didn't expect it so fast.

You curled yourself into a ball on your old bench, staring at the doorknob, expecting to see it jiggle and eventually forced open from the other side, but to your surprise the lock clicked quietly and the door slowly creaked open.

When you saw the general appear, limping and bloodied but still alive, you practically screamed. You jumped to your feet and rushed over, moments away from throwing yourself into his arms before you caught yourself.

"Acacius," you whispered in disbelief, the informality slipping easily past your lips for the very first time. He gave you a tired smile and locked the door behind him.

"I apologize for missing dinner," he said. You laughed as two fresh tears trickled down your cheeks. Your hands hovered nervously over his armor as if you weren't sure where you could touch him.

"Apology accepted," you replied before gingerly unhooking the armor around his shoulders. He groaned with relief when you lifted the heavy metal off him and set it against the wall by the door to polish another time. When you turned back around, you gasped at the blood that had seeped through his tunic, staining the yellow fabric a dark red.

"You are hurt," you whimpered, then hurried around his room for clean cloths, healing oils, and salves he kept in his desk. "Take that off and sit down. Allow me to tend to your wound."

He wordlessly lifted the ruined tunic over his head, wincing slightly when the wound at his side pulled, and he sat down at the table just as you instructed. You collected some of the unused water from his bath and set it over the flames to warm up before scooping up some more and setting it on the table next to him.

"They stemmed the bleeding on the boat," he explained. "It just needs to be cleaned and perhaps -"

"I will handle this. You just rest and eat," you told him, pushing your plate of uneaten food in his direction. His eyes fell onto the food and he frowned.

"It is untouched," he said, "why did you not eat?"

"How could I when I thought you were dead?" you snapped as you brought a soaked rag to his side and began to gently pat at the nasty looking gash.

Acacius took a bite of food, the flavors melting onto his tongue and making him groan. He didn't realize how hungry he was and before he knew it, he had eaten all of the food except for the grapes. You were leaning across his lap, bandaging up his wound with intense focus. He sighed contentedly, basking in the warmth from the fire and the soft touch of your hand on his skin. He could already feel his strength beginning to return.

"That should hold," you said, sitting upright to inspect your work. He glanced down and raised his eyebrows at the neat little bandage you had adhered to his wound.

"You did a very good job. Where did you learn such things?"

You shrugged and began to clean up the salves and oils. "On a farm, many accidents happen. You learn quickly how to tend to a wound."

He smiled and sipped from the wine you had poured for him while watching you move around the room, disposing of his soiled clothes and rags and then bringing the bucket of warm water over to the table with a fresh cloth.

When you pulled the other chair closer and sat, fitting your legs between his knees so you could reach him, he began to protest.

"You do not need to -"

"I want to," you said, cutting him off with a warm, wet cloth on his aching shoulders. His eyelids fluttered with a groan, leaning back into his chair and giving in. It felt so wonderful to be washed by your hand, to have you so close and safe while tenderly caring for him. It was all he had been dreaming about for years, ever since the first day he saw you at the market.

"So many scars," you whispered, swiping the cloth down his broad, strong chest. His breathing stuttered when you reached his stomach and he tensed.

"I have been in many battles," he murmured with his eyes still closed. You hummed to yourself and continued to work, diligently and carefully scrubbing away the layers of blood and grime until you cleaned everything you could see.

"Can you lean forward, General?" you asked, "I would like to cleanse your back."

He nodded and with a grunt, sat upright so he could lean forward. You stood from your chair and positioned yourself behind him, taking great care with every swipe of your cloth, afraid of unearthing a new wound under all the filth.

"Back to general now, are we?" he asked.

Your hand paused on his shoulder blade. He sensed your confusion and he chuckled.

"When I first arrived, you called me Acacius," he explained.

"Oh," you breathed before continuing your work. "That was disrespectful, I -"

"No, I quite liked it," he said before you could finish apologizing. "You may call me Marcus when we are alone, if you prefer."

Your eyes widened and although he couldn't see you, he could tell you were surprised.

"That would be highly irregular," you finally said softly, putting down the wet cloth and picking up a bottle of perfumed oil. You sprinkled a few drops into your palm and you rubbed your hands together. "That name should only be used by those closest to you."

He opened his mouth to respond but when your slick hands found his shoulders and your fingers began to dig into the knots in his muscles, he moaned and felt himself go lax.

"Oh gods, that feels incredible," he rasped. The deep timber of his voice sent a wave of arousal right to your core. You continued to work on his back and shoulders, privately marveling at his broad frame and firm muscles under his scarred, bronzed skin. He was truly something to behold. So strong, handsome, and fearless. Yet also kind and gentle. The proximity of his body and the ricocheting emotions you had experienced that evening had you reacting to him in a way you never had before. It was confusing and strange yet also exciting, and the noises you were drawing from his mouth with every roll of your thumbs was causing a dull ache to form between your thighs.

You blinked and cleared your throat, trying to shake the heavy curtain of lust that clung to you.

"What happened out there? One of your men informed me you were dead."

Marcus sighed and sat up straight, the angle causing you to drop your hands from his tight shoulders. One of his massive hands reached back to take yours so he could lead you to stand in front of him, between his knees.

"They had called a truce. They requested to discuss terms of surrender, so I called off my men and went to speak with their king," he began, his hand still engulfing your own as he gazed up at you with his soft, dark eyes. "It was a trap. They ambushed me when I got out of range. It must have been twenty of them," he continued solemnly, his thumb brushing against your wrist as he spoke. "I slayed them all, one by one, but once I took down their final solider, an archer took aim from the wall. I was able to dodge the arrow but I was not quick enough," he chuckled and looked down at his wound. "I am not the young man I once was."

"I cried for hours," you admitted quietly. His eyes darted up to yours again, holding his breath as you spoke. "I had never considered you would not return to me at the end of the day. However, when I got word you had died-"

You paused when a sob got lodged in your throat. You knit your brows together, hoping to stave off your tears while Marcus patiently waited. Eventually, you gave him a watery smile and lifted your free hand to cup his cheek.

"I felt a grief I never thought I would feel again," you said, voice shaking. His eyes searched your face, watching the way your anguish rolled through you at the memory. He swallowed tightly and, with his other hand, gently gripped your waist.

"Tell me," he whispered, "did you feel these things only because you feared for your safety if I was not here?"

You shook your head as one singular tear trickled down your cheek.

"No," you breathed, "it was because I felt like a part of me died, too. Because I could not imagine my life without you."

When you saw the joyful look in his eye, you quickly closed the remaining distance between you, leaning down the rest of the way and slanting your mouth desperately over his. He moaned and dropped your hand so he could cup the back of your neck, pulling you even closer so you were forced to straddle his lap.

"Do you know what you do to me?" he groaned amid kisses that were growing increasingly messy as the heat between you grew. "How badly I want you? How long I have waited?"

Your mind was blank. You couldn't think of a single thing to say, but Marcus didn't give you a chance to respond, anyway. His tongue slipped past your lips, greedily swirling in tandem with yours and forcing your jaw to open wider. The hand on your waist dropped to flatten against your lower back and he pressed you forward so not even a sliver of moonlight could sneak between your bodies.

Underneath your gifted tunic, you were bare. When you joined the other whores all those weeks ago, they told you there was no use for undergarments, that the men would just destroy them if you bothered to wear any, so just like all the others, you never did. It had never been a problem until that very moment, when Marcus had you writhing in his lap, hips stretched wide and cunt free to rub against his thigh. When you first made contact with his leg, the firm muscle brushing against your sensitive clit, you jumped in his lap and moaned into his mouth.

"Tell me, sweet thing," he murmured when he finally broke the kiss. You were panting heavily, eyelids drooping with need as you gazed down at him. "I know you have not sold yourself to a man, but have you ever laid with one before?"

You shook your head and wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, holding him close. His lips brushed up against your throat and he began to suck on the sensitive skin there as both of his hands fell to your hips. Gently, he rocked you back and forth, sliding your slick, bare cunt over his thigh. He heard you sigh and smiled against your skin when your head dipped backwards in pleasure.

"Does that feel good?"

"Yes," you whispered, voice raspy and thick. "Oh, yes, it feels... heavenly," you told him with a sigh.

"Good," he grunted, "keep going. Do not stop until you come. I will need you soft and wet before you take my cock."

"Yes, General," you replied obediently, making his cock jump behind his thin loincloth.

Marcus tugged at the back of your loose tunic, stretching the material across your breasts so your hardened nipples poked through. With a low growl, he lunged forward and wrapped his mouth around one, cloth and all. His teeth added a surprisingly tantalizing amount of pressure that had you gasping for air as your hips quickened their pace over his thigh. You must have been leaving streaks of arousal all over him but something told you he didn't mind.

"You desire me, yes?" he questioned when he switched his attention to your other breast. You nodded feverishly, face tilted towards the ceiling as you chased your pleasure.

"Yes," you gasped, "yes, Ge- Marcus."

He groaned so loudly you thought he might wake up the whole ship.

"Fuck, say that again."

You smiled and circled your hips faster, grinding down onto his thick leg. You were so close, you could taste it.

"Marcus," you whined, "oh, Marcus. I cannot wait to feel you inside of me. I just know you will make me feel so good, will you not?"

Suddenly, his hand was back on your neck and his mouth was pressed tightly against the underside of your jaw, not unlike a wild animal pinning his prey against his sharp fangs. You could feel his hot puffs of air fanning across your skin and his teeth scraping your throat. His intensity might have frightened you if you weren't on the brink of an earth shattering orgasm.

"I will make you feel so good, you will never want to take another lover again," he said darkly. The hairs on your arms stood up but you continued to rut yourself as fast as you could against his thigh, your own chest heaving as you fought for air. "And if I have it my way, you never will," he added.

His words were what tipped you over the edge. You cried out his name and clutched at his shoulders for support as your orgasm rolled through you, covering him with your slick.

Your body was still trembling in his arms when he lifted you up and carried you to the bed. You blinked rapidly in response, poised to argue with him about potentially reopening his wound, but before you could get a single word out he had tossed you onto the sheets and climbed on top of you, caging you in.

"Before I ravish you, my sweet, what do you know of coupling?"

You scoffed. "I am no fool, I know how it works."

Marcus chuckled at your snark and sat back on his heels to peel your tunic over your head, exposing yourself entirely to him. A groan rumbled through his wide, bare chest as he stared down at you hungrily, all spread out and ready for him.

"I cannot lie. Ever since you first stood before me naked, your beautiful body has consumed my every waking thought."

"It shows incredible restraint, then, for you to share a bed with me each night," you teased, eyes dancing playfully as he stripped himself of his loincloth.

"You have no idea," he growled, falling back onto his forearms. The tip of his nose nudged against yours affectionately. "I have waited years for this, my sweet."

The idea of any man pining after you, let alone the mighty General of Rome, was a strange and foreign concept.

"I am just the daughter of a poor farmer," you muttered, fingers brushing his peppered curls behind his ear.

"Your station means very little to me," he replied, looking down between your bodies so he could notch the thick head of his cock at your opening. "The heart wants what the heart wants."

Your pulse quickened when you felt the slight bit of pressure he applied. Knowing how it worked was one thing, experiencing it for the first time was another.

"I-I was told it may hurt," you said meekly. Marcus's eyes found yours and he tenderly cupped your jaw.

"Yes, that is true, but I promise it will not last long," he assured you. You swallowed and nodded before spreading your legs wider and hooking your ankles around the backs of his thighs.

"Tell me if it is too much," he murmured. He pressed your foreheads together, lips hovering above yours, ready to soothe you from the pain.

"Go on, then," you said bravely.

Slowly, he breeched your opening and sunk one inch inside of you. You gasped and dug your heels harder into his thighs, but Marcus held steady.

"Speak," he demanded after a few seconds of listening to your heavy breathing.

"It stings," you admitted, "but it is not... unpleasant."

He nodded and pecked a chaste kiss against your lips before giving you another inch. You whined and squirmed a bit but once you settled, he took it as his cue to continue. It went just like that until he finally found himself fully seated inside of your tight heat.

"The worst is over, my sweet," he told you.

You wiggled underneath him, moving this way and that until you got used to the feeling of him inside you. Your hands wrapped around the backs of his biceps and you stretched your neck so you could bite and nip playfully at his prickly jaw.

"I enjoy being full of you," you admitted shyly, eliciting a grunt from the back of his throat.

"Good," he grumbled before drawing back his hips and slowly easing himself back inside your warmth. "Because I intend on having you full of me as much as possible. I fear I will never have enough now that you have given me a taste."

Your jaw dropped open when he began to move faster, gently and steadily working you open, carving a space for himself inside of you forever. The only thing you wanted was to have him as close as you could, so you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face against his neck, molding your bodies together as one.

"My sweet girl," he panted, mouth hunting for yours. "You feel better than I ever dreamed. So fucking tight and wet. I cannot believe my fortune, that you would give yourself to me. I wonder if I did indeed die in battle and have ascended to the heavens."

The stretch was divine, his heavy length dragging in and out of you and nudging against a spot that made your stomach clench and your head grow fuzzy.

"Do not say such things," you scolded him breathlessly. His hips stilled for a moment, waiting for you to continue. "Do not jest about your death. My heart cannot handle it."

His eyes softened and his mouth crashed against yours with a groan, overcome that you would feel so strongly for him. He began to roll his hips again but kept his mouth latched onto yours, swallowing down your whimpers and moans.

"I will never leave you," he whispered against your lips. His thrusts grew quicker but he tried his best to be careful and not drive himself too deep for fear of causing you pain. "I will always return now that I have you waiting for me. I shall be invincible in battle."

You laughed lightly, dragging your mouth down his throat and tasting his freshly perfumed skin.

"Was that all it took for you to become immortal?" you teased.

"Yes," he hissed, "a cunt as snug and perfect as yours is all a man needs to give him purpose."

His hand slithered between your back and sheets, pressing his palm firmly against your spine so you arched underneath him. His knees spread wider so he could get better leverage, and he began to roughly snap his hips. You gasped and grabbed onto his hair, giving it a sharp tug and making him groan. It was lewd yet somehow romantic, hearing the sound of your skin slapping together in the otherwise quiet room.

"Does it hurt?" he managed to ask through clenched teeth.

"No," you whimpered inbetween the soft moans he drew every time his cock slammed back into you. "Oh gods, Marcus, please-"

"What do you need, my love?"

He sounded breathless, his voice slightly strained, and your chest burst with pride. You loved the idea of being the one who made such a strong man so very weak.

"I- I am not sure," you admitted truthfully. "It feels so wonderful, but it is different than before."

As it turned out, you didn't need to figure out what you needed because Marcus knew. Somehow, he managed to know your body better than you. He knew how to make it sing and thrum just for him.

His hand snuck between your bodies and the pad of his thumb found your clit. He rubbed firm, slow circles over the sensitive bud, and his name instantly flew from your mouth, loud and wild. You likely could be heard from shore, but Marcus never shushed you. In fact, he smiled and worked his thumb faster, drawing out more delicious moans with every stroke.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured while sucking a mark into your neck. He could feel your lower belly begin to tense and heard your breath waver, so he circled his hips faster, cock greedily plunging in and out of your soaked cunt, chasing his release with reckless abandon now that he could feel you were close.

"I have obsessed over you for years. Dreamed of having you all to myself, just like this," he continued. He could sense his words had a great effect on you. Your walls fluttered and pulsed around him when he admitted his deepest secrets, so he kept talking.

"Long nights spent on the cold ground in the middle of war, I would dream of you. I would wonder what you would be doing back in Rome. I would pray you did not find a husband while I was away."

Marcus gasped when your cunt gripped around him so tightly that it took his breath away. "The thought of you belonging to another was enough to drive me insane," he groaned before capturing your lips with his.

"I am yours," you rasped when he pulled away, and when your eyes locked, he could see the adoration he felt for you reflected right back. "For as long as you will have me, I am yours."

Marcus's eyes slid closed in bliss after hearing the words he so longed to hear. "Come for me, my love. Come for me and when we return home, I shall make you my wife. I will take care of you. I promise you will never go hungry again."

Your hands grappled with the back of his head, fingers threading through his unruly locks as you pulled him down for a searing kiss. He muffled the sounds of your orgasm, cries of his name dying in your throat while your body bucked wildly beneath him.

It only took a few moments before he joined you. With his hand roughly squeezing your hip, he yanked you towards him. His body stilled, pumping you full of his seed while your tongues danced together in tandem until his shoulders sagged and you began to shake.

Marcus flicked the sheets so he could toss them over your trembling bodies. He planted kisses along the side of your head and jaw, then brushed the hair away from your face until your breathing leveled and your eyes reopened.

"Are you alright?"

You nodded and gave him a weak smile. "I am tired."

Marcus withdrew his hips, sliding his softening cock out from your clutch. You cried out in pain and he instantly jolted out of bed to soak a clean rag in some leftover warm water, then hurried back to press it between your legs.

"Better?"

"Yes," you sighed. "Thank you."

He gave you a quick kiss and slid back under the covers. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest so he could nuzzle your hair and murmur sweet nothings in your ear.

"Must you leave me in the morning? Can you not spend just one day recovering from your wound?"

Marcus kissed your bare shoulder and shook his head.

"The war is almost done. Tomorrow, I will make them surrender so we may sail home and start our life together."

You grinned and burrowed deeper under the covers. "Did you mean that?"

"What is that, my love?"

"When you said you would make me your wife," you said sheepishly. "Or was that just your mind getting lost to desire?"

"No, I meant every word," he said before rolling over and snuffing out the candle next to the bed. "When we return to Rome, I will make you my bride. You will bear my children and I will watch them play in the garden with you by my side."

You hummed and closed your eyes. "That sounds lovely."

You had very little idea of the politics in Rome and how the highest ranking general of the Roman army could possibly announce he was going to wed a poor farmer's daughter, but you knew deep down if Marcus wanted it, he would somehow make it happen. You knew this because his determination always won, on and off the battlefield.

After all, you were living proof of it.

[the-secret-keeper]

Where MC Tells the Obey Me Brothers About How Horribly They Were Treated in Twisted Wonderland

This was requested by @sweetlicorice I hope you like it! It was taking longer than expected, so I only did the brothers, but I will do the dateables in a part 2, don't worry.

TW: Talk of being Overworked and Burnt Out, Abuse of Power, Very Angry Demons (but not at you), mental breakdowns, missing a pet (he's not dead, don't worry), and nightmares

Reader is referred to as MC by the characters (though I don't think they say it here) and MC is gender neutral, but this is mostly in second person, so for the majority of the story you'll be referred to as 'You' by the narrator.

Characters include: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Satan, Beelzebub, and Belphegor

Could be read as romantic or platonic

This will be long, so the stories under the cut

This is organized by character, with a bit of context at the beginning. Enjoy!

First, it was a coffin. You were kidnapped by a horse-drawn hearse, woke up in a coffin, in another world. A world of magic, and wonder, but also one of pain, as you quickly learned. But you met people. You made friends, allies, and you were learning, even if you couldn't use magic.

And then, it was you landing rather harshly in a room that looked like an old-time, very fancy courtroom, surrounding by tall and intimidating looking young men. It was soon explained to you that you were in the Devildom, and were an exchange student, one that would be living with the Seven Deadly Sins for your own protection.

You didn't know what to feel. Gratitude for the much improved living conditions? Fear for living with a bunch of demons and going to school with demons that would likely have no qualms with snapping you in two if you stepped out of line? Sadness for the friends that you don't know how to get back to? Upset for being forced to leave the place you were finally starting to feel like you fit in at and having to leave Grim? It was a whirlwind inside, and for a time, that's where it stayed. Kept inside.

Slowly, the Devildom revealed to have similar problems as Twisted Wonderland, in the fact that it seems everyone in power here, aside from Diavolo and Barbatos, would like you to die.

Most of the brothers tried to kill you. One of them succeeded! Congrats to them you guess, though, no offense to Belphie, you don't think it was particularly hard for a demon to kill a human.

Through all of this, you got closer to those you were staying with, even forgiving Belphegor after everything. It only made sense that eventually, what happened to you, you started to open up to them about your past. About those that you met and bonded with, all that had been put onto you, and all that was different.

Lucifer:

You were in his office, as you did somewhat often. It was quieter in there than it was in most of the house, and no one would bother you if you were with him. Plus, sometimes he would let you take care of some of his paperwork, just the stuff that wasn't too sensitive or important, but it lightened his load a bit.

"Why do you insist upon helping me?" He asked, not looking up from his paper, as you looked at your own.

"I'm used to doing more work, and if it makes your job easier, then I don't mind." You shrugged.

"More work? Do you mean like a job?" He asked, somewhat curious. Your file had listed a lot, but you had, apparently, been missing for a while when you were brought to the Devildom, so he didn't know what you had been doing before coming there.

"Something like that." You vaguely answered, finishing a paper.

"I am always here if you need to talk." He glanced up at you, as you pulled out your homework instead.

"Thank you."

A comfortable silence fell over the you two. The ambiance of the fireplace, paired with the low volume on the record he was playing, along with the light scratching of his pen, was calming. His office was always dimly lit, enough to see easily, but also darker than the average room.

It was a quiet environment that reminded you of the days when you would sit in the office of Crewel, him taking pity on the amount of work shoved on you and attempting to help at least a little. Or the days when you would study with Ace and Deuce in the Heartslabyul Common Room, Riddle sitting nearby doing his own paperwork, and Grim resting lazily along your shoulders. It was comforting, yet sad, at the same time.

"Back, in the place where I was," you started softly after a few moments of silence, "there was more that was required of me."

"In what way?" He asked, and though you couldn't tell, off in your own world, he had stopped doing his paperwork to focus on what you were saying, fully enraptured in wanting to know your backstory.

"The headmaster, at my last school, his name was Dire Crowley. And he was terrible at his job." You laughed bitterly. "I showed up there one day, against my will, and practically started running the place once he thought I could handle it, or when he was certain I wouldn't complain." You glared at your paper, thinking back on all that was unfairly thrown at you.

"Like what?"

"Paperwork, was the majority." You answered without thinking. "But there were.... others."

"Others?" He prompted after a few moments of a now, much tenser, silence.

"Your demon form is scary." You looked at him, making eye contact. "But it is not as scary as facing seven Overblots within the span of a year."

"Overblots?"

"The manifestation of out of control magic and strong negative emotions that result in the transformation of the magic user, and the creation of a sort of monster. The magic user loses control of their entire being, and it's very taxing on the magic user." Your eyes were glazed over as you seemed to recite the information with no emotion in your voice. "I don't blame them, for Overblotting, and losing control, the world is cruel. I do blame Dire Crowley, however, for making me responsible for dealing with them."

"That sounds dangerous, for someone without magic."

"It was." You agreed, still looking towards him.

Not at him, but through him, as if you weren't registering how much you were saying. This made him all the more concerned, as he got up and walked over to you, sitting beside you.

"I was also responsible for whatever Dire Crowley wanted me to do. Feed the fireplaces over winter break, find out why our sports players are getting injured, stop that one student from taking over the student body, house these people for this inter-school competition, and on, and on." You listed, beginning to spiral. "I practically ran that school. Me! A magicless human who had no idea what they were doing or where they were or how to handle what was happening to me. He stuck me in a shack, filled with mildew, and mold, that was covered in dust, infested with ghosts, and falling apart at the seams with a fire-breathing cat. And he didn't even make me a student at first!" You looked at Lucifer, tears pricking your eyes. "I was a janitor! And when another student got myself, Grim, and another student in trouble, he was going to throw me out! Onto the streets with no understanding of the world, how it functions, or anything at all!"

Lucifer nodded, trying to get you to calm down silently, wanting to hear about your past, even though it was painful.

"And he'd threaten me, Lucifer! He'd threaten my housing, my food budget, and I had no means of income! I couldn't pay for myself in any regard, I was completely dependent on him! I was his little puppet. The puppet of the 'oh so gracious Dire Crowley'." You began to sob as emotions started to overcome you, them all spilling out as you finally let yourself feel safe enough to feel these emotions. "I was so scared! About what would happen to me, and my friends. I didn't know what the next day would bring."

He brought you into his chest, hugging you tightly, and allowing your tears to stain his red vest. He let you sob and weep as you finally allowed yourself to process the emotions you'd been keeping inside this whole time. He kept his breathing even, trying to get you to match it subconsciously, and he gently rocked you, trying to calm you down as best he could.

"I miss Grim!" You cried out, into his chest. "I miss him so much that it hurts. I feel so anxious without him around."

He didn't ask who Grim was, but he knew it was someone important. He'd ask you about it when you were calmer, for now, he'd just let you cry to your hearts content. It had been a long time since someone had come to him, and allowed him to see them crying, but he didn't mind it so much when it was you. He took pride in being someone you felt safe enough to cry around.

No more paperwork got done that night, but he didn't care. You were more important at that point in time, and Diavolo would understand, he assured you of this, when you tried to apologize for taking up his time and crying on him. He brought up that Diavolo would be more mad if he hadn't comforted you, which made you laugh. You were so tired from crying that not long after you calmed down, you drifted off in Lucifer's arms, on the couch in his office.

Mammon: 

You were hanging out in Mammon's room one night, trying to help him study. Mammon was a lot smarter than a lot of people gave him credit for, the main issue you were having was the effort in which he was putting in. Which was zero. He was much more interested in his video game than his homework, despite the fact that Lucifer had threatened to string him up from the ceiling should he not get a satisfactory grade.

It was almost nice, how familiar this felt. The arguing with him about studying gave you a nostalgic feeling, for when you would study with your First Year friend group, and you would try to pry Ace away from his video games. It was never effective, much like now, but the nostalgia made you keep trying to convince him.

Mammon himself didn't seem to notice the effect this was having on you, too focused on his video game. Not that you cared, better for him to remain oblivious that try to pry your secrets out of you.

You sighed, closing the textbooks that you had brought in, accepting the fate of his grade, and making a mental note to find a spot to at least try to hide him from Lucifer. You watched as he played the game for just a few more minutes before you crawled over, sitting beside him as he played, watching the screen.

"Why're ya so good at homework in the Devildom anyway?" He asked, in the blunt way he normally does.

"Diavolo adjusted my curriculum because I don't know much about the Devildom, so I get assignments that are easier." You admitted, leaning against him, your head resting on his shoulder. "I appreciate it, my last headmaster wasn't nearly so accommodating." You mumbled bitterly, thinking back on that incompetent headmaster.

"Really? How's that?" He asked, only half-paying attention, as he spam-clicked the button on the controller to his video game.

"Eh, don't think too much about it. Crowley was stupid, and though he claims he was gracious, he was really anything but. At least to me."

"What's 'at supposed to mean?" He asked before exclaiming nonsensical, frustrated sounds at his loss in the video game.

"I was basically his Barbatos, but I wasn't paid. Hell," You laughed mirthfully, "what money I was supposed to get was threatened, actually. More than once."

"Really?"

His attention was still diverted, and you noticed this. He was likely only wanting to hear your voice for background noise while he played, but you didn't mind so much. At least now you can say you told someone. Even if he wasn't listening.

"Yeah, Crowley threatened my food and housing budget more than once. And he'd push all his work onto me, even though I really shouldn't have had that much responsibility put on me. After all, I was someone without magic in a magic-teaching school, from another world. I didn't know anything." You shrugged lightly, trying not to move Mammon's arm too much, because your head was still resting on his shoulder. "I can't say I miss that part of it."

"What do ya miss then?" He asked, eyes still glued to the screen.

"My friends. I had a group of friends that were pretty tight-knit. Trauma bonded, more like it." You laughed. "And Grim. I miss Grim."

"Grim?"

"My cat."

"Ya sound like Satan."

"Grim was a special cat. He could use magic, and fly, and talk. You remind me of him sometimes." At that he finally paused the game to look at you.

"I, remind ya of... a cat?" He asked incredulously.

"Yeah." You smiled, laughing lightly. "He was sarcastic, and demanding, and greedy. He called me Henchman, you call me Human." He rolled his eyes. "But underneath your... bravado, is a very nice person, who cares a lot. Grim and I... we only had each other. So it just makes sense that we bonded. I miss him, a lot. He used to sleep in my bed, and he'd always be there with me. I've been having trouble sleeping without him. It just feels like there's something missing." You admitted in a soft and sad tone. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

"I'll be yer Grim 'til we can convince Diavolo or Barbatos, or maybe Solomon to get yer cat." He said quietly, rubbing your upper arm. "Ya can sleep in here whenever ya need, ok?" You nodded. "Wanna watch a movie?" You smiled at him, nodding once more, as he turned the TV to one of the bajillion streaming services the family all pay for, because they share, and arguing with you about the best movie to watch.

Leviathan:

Leviathan was out in public with you, having gone to an anime themed event at a cafe in the Devildom. He was so excited, that you just couldn't resist when he asked if you wanted to go with. It was nice to hear him rant and ramble about all the things that he was passionate about.

"There's a cat in the anime that waitress is from! And he's super cool!" Levi started. "He can fly, and talk, and use magic. He's also very stubborn, like a donkey. But he's a favorite in the fandom because of how cute he is."

"I know someone like that." You mumbled without thinking, your mind wandering to your feline friend.

"You do?!" He asked excitedly.

"Yeah." You smiled. "His name was Grim, and he used to live with me, back in the time before."

"Really? Tell me more!"

"He wasn't super smart, or very hard working. He used to call me Henchman, and demand cans of tuna. But when it came down to it, Grim was the one I could rely on the most. But, that might also be because we literally couldn't leave each other." You told him.

"You couldn't?"

"No. I don't have magic, and he did. I'm human, he was a cat. The headmaster of my last school decided to be 'oh so gracious'," you quoted, making air quotes around his catchphrase, "and make the two of us one singular student, allowing us to attend his magic school."

"That seems... dumb. To say the least."

"It was." You deadpanned, before the both of you laughed. "He was a bad headmaster. Towards the end of my stay there, I was practically headmaster, just because of how much work he pushed onto me because he could. But while I was at that school I made friends. And I had Grim. Even if the situation I was in was less than ideal." You smiled as the waitress delivered the food you ordered, with a bundle of silverware.

"Ah. I bet you'd prefer them to an otaku like me."

"Not true!" You defended, pointing your fork at Leviathan. "I like you plenty fine, Levi. You actually remind me a lot of my friend Idia. But," you laughed awkwardly, "at least you leave the house sometimes, and aren't afraid of confrontation. Or, at least, you're not afraid to confront some people. Like your brothers." You set your fork down, stopping your silent threat at Levi, that wasn't actually very threatening to him.

"He was an otaku too?"

"Yes indeed, and a master gamer to boot."

"Better than me?"

"It's hard to say." You shrugged. "The games you guys play are similar, but different. It's not a fair comparison." He seemed placated by this answer. "Your brothers remind me of a lot of my friends from there." You said vaguely.

"Do you miss them?"

"Yeah. They're my friends, of course I miss them. And it's not like I know if and when I'll be able to see them again." You explained gently. "I don't miss the work though. Diavolo was nice and assigned me a tutor and easier assignments until I get the hang of the normal work here. And no one makes me do any extra work, or threatens my food or housing. Well, Lucifer threatens punishments sometimes, but he would never threaten my food or housing, and I won't get punished as long as I do my best and behave." You rambled, smiling at how nice it was here, compared to it was in Twisted Wonderland. "Plus, I have all of you, and Diavolo, and Barbatos, and the other exchange students. I miss my friends from there, and I really wish that I had Grim here with me. But I am happy here." You beamed.

"Maybe if we ask Lucifer, he may know how to get your cat." Leviathan suggested, smiling lightly.

"I would love that. He acts like Mammon, but he feels like an emotional support cat. And, I bet Satan would seriously love having him here too."

"You know, we're all here. If you want to talk."

"I know." You glanced around. "What anime is that cosplay from?" You asked, gesturing at another waitress, changing the subject.

He glanced, and started beaming, immediately launching into a rant about the anime it's from, and the character themself. It was nice that he didn't question the change in subject. You'd tell Levi and the others all about what happened to you, and about what Twisted Wonderland was like. Eventually. Maybe.

Asmodeus:

Saying Asmo was flirty, was an understatement. Possibly the understatement of the century. And while he flirted and charmed nearly every being in existence, he did understand consent, and took every no at face value, stopping when asked. Of course, it's a rejection, so at the beginning you had to explain that no, you're not rejecting him as a person, you like him plenty fine as a person, you just don't always want to be flirted with.

He still did it, but when you asked him to stop he'd make a show of whining about it, but stopping nonetheless. It was annoying, but he did take your 'no' seriously, so in the end it was kind of worth it. Asmo was good for conversation, and he knew all the gossip, so he was nice to hang out with.

You had mentioned a handful of times that he reminded you of someone where you were from where you used to live. But all he ever said in response was that there was no one like him. Which is true, as no one else could truly embody Lust like Asmodeus does.

He was doing a skincare night with you, when you brought it up again.

"You know a lot about skincare already, it's quite impressive." He complimented.

"Yeah, had a friend who took it very seriously." You agreed.

"Is this the same friend that I remind you of?"

"Tis." You smiled, gently rubbing the moisturizer onto his face. "He was an interesting man."

"Interesting man? Interesting how?"

"He was insanely hard working, yet it seemed no one saw that." You started, taking a deep breath. "He was an actor, and social media influencer. And he was talented. Extremely talented. He worked hard to get where he was, but he had the means to get there."

"Anything else I should know about this person?"

"Well, he was good at potions. And like, just as good if not better than Satan and Solomon, good. He had the harshest study routine, but it was worth it. Never failed a potions class if he was tutoring me. He didn't have much time to do so, but I was always grateful when he did." You thought back on the memories fondly, smiling, as you stopped rubbing the moisturizer into his skin, and moving onto the next step. "His methods were.... intense, to say the least." Your smile became strained, remembering the VDC. "But, they got the results he wanted, so I guess he didn't see much issue with it."

"Intense in what way?" Asmo asked, noting your tenseness.

"I was appointed manager for a dance team, an interschool competition thing, you know how competitive people can get." You shook your head lightly. "They all came to live in my dorm because it was mostly empty. But, despite me being manager, he decided I needed to follow the same diet as everyone else. My friends said it was a 'we're all in this together' thing, but I thought he was just being unreasonable. I mean, come on, hexing my food? That's just wasteful. And he didn't even pay me back. I didn't get much money for food in general, because I was the magicless student, and there he went, just wasting what I had." You laughed mirthfully, remembering your anger at the situation, and your frustration.

"Well, in his defense, if he was just looking out for you."

"I would have no problems if that were the case, Azzy." You slightly chastised, but it was playful, and held no real bite. "I took your diet in stride, didn't I?" He nodded in acknowledgement. "I would've been fine with it, if that were the case. But he never paid me back for the food that he hexed, or replaced it. I didn't have much, so no one being able to eat those foods, it was wasteful. I mean, it's not like I got much money, if any, from the school for dorm food, like every other dorm."

"Why wouldn't you?"

"I was the magicless student. The errand person. The pushover. The unpaid therapist or headmaster. Depends on the day." You sighed. "The headmaster didn't want to have to rewrite the budget to factor in an extra dorm, when it only had two students in it, that really only amounted to one student."

"Wait, I thought you've mentioned before that you had a roommate."

"I lived with a fire-breathing, flying, talking cat named Grim, who could use magic, and several ghosts. I say technically one student, because the ghosts were faculty members, technically, but Grim had magic, and I didn't, but I was human and Grim was a cat. So, when I popped out of the woodwork, with no magic, no identification, no way to go home, and no clue about how this world worked, the headmaster was 'oh so gracious'," you mocked, "and put us both in a run down dorm, enrolled as a single student."

"Run down?"

"I mean Run Down. It was called Ramshackle, by other students, and it certainly lived up to it's name. The heater didn't work, I had to curl up with Grimm under every blanket I could find in that house. It was caked in mold and mildew, and dust, until Crowley cleaned it for the VDC. I injured myself more than once." You pointed to a scar on your forearm, where you'd hurt yourself in an attempt to fix up your dorm. "I am, honestly, very grateful, for the opportunity to stay here, in much better conditions. I do miss my friends, and I miss Grim." You admitted.

"Is that why you named that stuffed animal Grim? I thought you were just taking after Mammon in your greed."

"I miss Grim." You stated simply. "He was always with me. We were inseparable. We fought, we bickered, but at the end of the day, I knew if there was one thing, one being, I could rely on consistently, it was Grim. He was my ride-or-die. I named my stuffed animal after him, because I have a hard time sleeping without him. Even just, relaxing, can be hard. I miss him, and I don't know if he's ok. I genuinely, worry about him. And I miss him so much, that it's hard to fully put into words."

"I'm sorry." He offered, and you just smiled at him.

There was not much more Asmodeus could say. He couldn't provide you the comfort that you craved, as he was not your cat, nor could he get you your cat. So, he extended his sympathies, and access to his bed whenever you would like. For cuddles, or for more, he was always down for whatever.

He only hoped that his efforts to be there, and open for you, helped to heal you a little bit in the long run.

Satan:

Satan was nice to be around. He was curious, and he liked to know things and ask questions, so he did tend to pry into your past. But he was always good for book recommendations, and was always happy to discuss any book you wanted.

You found comfort in his fondness for cats, finding a kindred spirit in that regard. You didn't tell him about Grim, not wanting to get his hopes up about maybe meeting your beloved companion. He did notice your love of cats though, and had gotten you a giant cat plushie, as a gift.

You had named it Grim, and it lived on your bed. It was much quieter, and honestly, a bit boring compared to the real thing, but it was good for cuddling in the night when you couldn't sleep because you missed your furry friend. You were grateful that Satan had brought you just a bit of comfort in those moments, even if he didn't know it.

"I had a cat." You started one day when he started reading off cat facts enthusiastically after you had expressed the slightest bit of interest. "He was a rather interesting thing."

"Really? What was he like?" Satan liked to hear you talk about your past in general, but he was especially excited to hear about your cat.

"His name was Grim. And he was big, like 2 feet tall. He had a very distinct look about him. Grey fur, with a white chest," Satan nodded, listening intently, "bright, big, blue eyes. So round they almost looked scary sometimes. His ears, they had blue fire coming out of them, and his tail was shaped like a pitchfork. And he could use magic! He could breathe fire, and fly, effortlessly. He could talk too. Used to talk my ear off." You smiled fondly, happy to be able to talk about your favorite creature. "He'd call me Henchman, or Hench Human. He was a trouble maker. Mammon reminds me of him that way."

"Oh." Satan almost groaned.

"But much like Mammon, at the end of the day, push comes to shove, you can rely on him. That was one of the few things I knew for certain back then. Grim was the only one I could fully rely on. I had other friends, but Grim and I, we were inseparable. He was my best friend. He used to sleep in my bed with me, every night. I'm so used to it, it's honestly.... kind of hard to sleep without him." You admitted, laughing tiredly. "I miss Grim."

"Were you allowed pets, or familiars, at your last school?"

"No. No, I don't think we were." You answered after a moment of thought. "But Grim was a special case. He and I crashed the entrance ceremony. I wasn't supposed to be there, and got yoinked out of another world, but he was just straight up trespassing because he wanted so badly to go to that school, and become a great mage." You laughed at the memory. "He committed arson, I helped calm him down, and the rest is history. We weren't students, originally. We were janitors. The Headmaster only let us stay because I didn't have anywhere else to go, and I proved that Grim could be helpful."

"I thought you said you were a student?"

"I was. Half. I was half of a student." You smiled, taking a tired, yet fond, sigh. "I didn't have magic. But Grim did. So, Crowley determined that we would each be half of a student. He got us both into so much trouble, but he always helped me get out of it. I could always rely on Grim. Except in schoolwork," you admitted, laughing a little, "I was alone in that portion."

A million questions ran through his head, and you could tell the gears were turning. It was almost amusing, seeing him trying to decide on what topic to pick. Should he keep going about your cat? Pry about your headmaster? Ask about your clearly troubled past at this school?

He was quiet, but it wasn't tense, or awkward, just comfortable silence, as you patiently awaited his next question. You knew Satan would choose his words carefully, so as to not make you uncomfortable, so you had no fears. You really didn't want him to ask about Grim's homework habits though. Satan prioritized intelligence, and knowledge. You wanted him to have a good impression of Grim, since you thought the two would get along, despite Grim being similar to his older brother, Mammon.

It took him a few moments, you, peacefully sipping your favorite hot drink, as you waited patiently, reading your book, before he finally picked a topic.

"Was your headmaster, truly that bad?" He asked softly.

"His favorite trick to get me to do what he wanted, when I didn't want to, was to threaten me. My food budget, my housing budget, or even my security at the school. I had others I could rely on, should this happen. The other Housewardens tended to take pity on me when I would show up, practically begging for food, because Crowley wouldn't allow me to have any. They were good people. But I always made sure Grim had stuff to eat. I never let him suffer. He actually learned to share through this. But, a diet of tuna sandwiches, just isn't that good for your health. It was better than nothing though." You shrugged, not looking up from your book. You looked up, to see him looking at you, sadness painting his eyes. "I'm doing better now, Satan." You smiled.

"I don't want to pry, but I do have more questions." You took a deep breath.

"Can I answer them later?" You asked, to which he nodded.

"Take your time."

"Can you do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"Can you look through your books, to see if there's a spell, or an incantation, or a potion, or a ritual, that will help me get Grim? I'm worried about him, and, as you can see," you gestured to your eyebags, which Asmo had tried to hide using makeup, but it was late, so they were started to peek through, "being without him takes a toll. He's like my emotional support cat, you know? My sassy, lazy, loud, annoying, emotional support cat, that I love. And I miss."

"I'll see what I can do." He nodded. "No promises, but I'll look into it."

"That's all I ask." You smiled tiredly.

Beelzebub:

Beelzebub had eaten the majority of the fridge again, and it was your turn to make dinner. You sighed, as he looked at you guiltily. It was getting too close to when you absolutely needed to start cooking so you could serve dinner on time, so you couldn't go shopping for more. You just shook your head, and got to work taking everything out of the fridge and pantry, just to see what was left.

"I'm sorry." Beel offered. "I'll help you cook."

"I've done more with less." You said, not registering his offer, and looking over the ingredients that were left, as you had caught him before he could eat everything. "I just need some time."

"I didn't leave you much. I could go to the store, and get some more." He offered.

"Beel," You looked at him, smiling in amusement. "How much of what you get me would you eat on the way home?" He looked down guiltily once more. "I'm not mad," you assured, "really, I'm not. And I appreciate your offer of help. But I've got this." You smiled once more, before turning back to the ingredients, and picking up a few.

With what little you had, you'd started to make a large delicious meal. Beelzebub watched, in what could only be described as awe, as you stretched what you had into enough to feed the brothers, and something that tasted good. He still felt guilty about eating the majority of what you could've used to make dinner, but he was grateful you weren't mad, and he was curious as to how you knew how to make so little go so far.

After you served the brothers, you kept a little for yourself, and Beelzebub noticed. He noticed that you didn't take much, and when he tried to comment on it, you just winked at him, smiling. After dinner, he was designated for clean up, and you went into the kitchen to keep him company, as he had while you were cooking.

"How did you do that? There wasn't much left, but that was a good meal."

"My last school.... I didn't have much." You started vaguely. "My food budget was small, and often taken away, so I would take what little I was able to beg or barter for from the shop keeper, or the other Housewardens, or my friends, and I'd make it stretch. It helped that they often had some leftovers, especially Scarabia, with their feasts every week. And Jamil was a fabulous cook." You complimented, your mouth watering at the thought of his delicious and carefully prepared food. "But I digress. What I'd do is, I'd prepare meals in advance, as many as I could. I had to. Starvation sounded rather unpleasant, to me."

"It was that bad?"

"Not if I planned correctly." You smiled.

Beelzebub related to the feeling of hunger, and starvation. He was often brushed aside as always hungry because he's the Avatar of Gluttony. But the pain was always there, and it was hard to describe the pain aside from, hungry. You were always patient with him, even if he got grumpy because of his hunger, and now he was starting to see why.

If you understood the feeling of being hungry all the time, and starving to a painful point, it makes sense that you'd not get mad at him. It makes sense to him, that you'd be patient with him. He had always appreciated your patience and kindness, but he had never questioned it. Now he was starting to think he should've.

"Was it just you?"

"No. I had a cat with me. His name was Grim, and he was a lot like Mammon." You described cheerfully. "He mostly ate cans of tuna, which I could get for cheap at the school shop, they weren't super popular, and students tended to leave them at the shop after realizing they were the cheapest option of food I had." You laughed awkwardly. "It was a school of ruffians, and bullies, and people who hated me. But they had the decency to not want me to starve to death."

"You were hated?"

"By some. I wasn't popular, but I had my fair share of friends, don't worry." You assured. "I had the first years friend group, and the Housewardens, and the vice-housewardens and honorary vicehousewardens. Even a lot of the teachers liked me. And even if they didn't, I still had Grim. He was my best friend."

"Was?"

"He's still there, so he still is. We're just not together right now. It's like... it's like a part of me is missing, because he's my best friend." You tried. "And he's still there, but I can't see him, and I can't talk to him. I miss him, a lot. I think you'd like him." You smiled. "He used to sleep on my bed, every night. And he'd complain, and whine, and get both of us into trouble, but he was loyal to a fault, and he was always there when I needed him."

"Was your old headmaster that bad?"

"Oh yeah." You nodded enthusiastically. "He went on vacation so often, and it was more like I was the headmaster towards the end of my time there. What with the amount of paperwork and such I was handling in his stead. On top of schoolwork! And he put me in an old decrepit house, with a fire breathing cat. Granted, I asked for the cat to remain with me, but still. I'm sure he could've found somewhere else to put me."

"That sounds awful."

"It could be. But hey, think of it this way, now I'm prepared if you do this again." You teased. He nodded. "Don't feel too bad, Beel. You didn't even know I existed, you couldn't have done anything."

"I wish you would've told us."

"It's not easy to talk about." You admitted. "It's not like... I had the best experience with a lot of people there. I mean, Overblots, burnout, hunger, on top of basically being an unpaid therapist, an unpaid headmaster, and a full-time student? I was busy, and not every experience is a pleasant one. But it's a part of my life, and I wouldn't change it for anything. Because it was my experience." You explained. He nodded in understanding. "I think you'd like the people I met before. So many good cooks. And Lilia, who is on par with Solomon." You shuddered. "But there was also so many athletics clubs. I bet you'd really like Spelldrive." You smiled.

"Spelldrive?"

"Yeah!"

As you launched into an in-depth explanation of the sport, at least as you understood it, he simply watched. He was glad you'd opened up to him, and to hear that you weren't always alone. He would probably ask Satan if he could find anything about getting your cat for you. But for now, he was just happy to see you being comfortable enough to talk about your past.

Belphegor:

Belphegor liked to visit your dreams whenever you'd let him. They were always so interesting. They almost matched you, in that regard. As you were so strange in his eyes. He was very lucky, able to explore your good dreams. Dreams that told of friends, and adventure. Light hardship, sure, but mostly wonder. And happiness. Along with a cat that seemed to pop up in every dream. He didn't know that he only saw this because he didn't always tune into your dreams. Not every dream is a happy one.

It was one day, when you happened to be taking a nap in his general vicinity, that he drifted off, and entered your dream. He prepared himself for the bright light of the outside of Night Raven College, and for the happy smiling faces, or the sound of laughter, as he usually saw when he joined your in your dreams. What he wasn't expecting, was the fire. The screaming, the fear. He was prepared to watch on happily as you got to see your friends, the people you consider family, in your dreams, but instead, he only saw your terror.

He couldn't look away as you looked on in terror as eight towering figures, covering in black ink, with massive ink monsters behind them cornered you. He recognized some of these faces, they were those of your friends. They were friends, friends who would drive you to work harder, and do better, but would always be there to help in any way they could, if they could, when you asked.

But there was one face he was shocked to see, moreso than the friends. It was your cat. Your cat that had been changed into a hulking, massive beast, and it looked more wild than he had ever seen. It wasn't talking anymore, none of those smart ass comments he'd overhear, it was growling at you, roaring at you. It had never done that before.

Belphegor, unable to stand by as you feared for your life, even in a dream, quickly made his way to in front of you, his back to you.

"You need to wake up."

You heard him, but his voice was muddled in your panic, it sounded like he was under water. You looked at him in confusion.

"What?"

"Wake! UP!" He commanded.

You shot up, gasping for air, as you woke up. Belphegor followed not long after, making his way over, and sitting beside you, as you began to calm down from such a panic-inducing dream. He sat beside you until your breathing was under control, and you weren't shaking as much anymore.

You leaned onto him, your head resting on his shoulder, and feeling embarrassed. It wasn't often that you had these nightmares, but they were always intense and unpleasant when you did. You didn't think he knew, he'd never visited those dreams. It's not as though you were actively hiding it, you'd told him that you'd had nightmares before, but you were ashamed that he had seen them firsthand.

You both just sat in silence for several moments, before he spoke first.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, softly.

"They don't know about the nightmares. I mean, my closer friends do, but those who the nightmares are about, don't. They don't need that."

"Why are they in your nightmares? And why did they look like that?"

"They lost control of their emotions, and their magic overwhelmed them. They weren't in control, when they looked like that. That was their anger, and sadness, their pain, that was in control of them, with their magic creating the ink monsters behind them." You explained, quietly. "I don't blame them, no one can be expected to hold it together for so long, but that doesn't make it any less unpleasant."

"And your cat?"

"I don't know why I have nightmares about him like that." You admitted. "I think it's because I miss him, and I'm scared of what will happen to him without me there."

"How long have you had these nightmares?"

"They started after the first Overblot, that's what they're called," you explained simply, "but they only got worse as more Overblots happened."

"Was there no one you could go to?" You shook your head.

"I couldn't go to Crowley, he was useless," you laughed humorlessly, "the teachers were nice, but they couldn't do anything. I told my friends, and they tried their best, but nothing ever really helped. Grim used to sleep on my bed with me, and that would chase the nightmares away pretty well, but," you trailed off.

"You don't have him with you now, so the nightmares are back with a vengeance?" You nodded, smiling a little at his wording. He wrapped an arm around you. "Do you miss him?"

"I do."

He knew you did, he knew that was a redundant question. But he wanted to hear it from you, as a sort of confirmation. He felt bad that you missed your cat, and he wished he could do something about it, but he knew he couldn't. So you two just sat in silence, comforted by the warmth of the room, and the calm atmosphere around the two of you.

He had always wondered why, or even how, you'd taken his actions in stride. How you'd forgiven him so easily. He knew now, that it was just in your nature after having gone through so much at your last school. He decided in that moment that he'd make an effort to be the person to hold a grudge on your behalf, to let people know that you may have forgiven them, but he certainly hasn't, and he hasn't forgotten what they've done to you. He didn't voice this, but he knew that you knew how he felt.

But for now, you two just sat there, comfortable, and warm. He wanted to apologize, and say he'd do everything in his power to get you your cat, but he didn't want to say that without a guarantee that he could do it. So there you sat, close, and comfortable.

"I'll chase your nightmares away." He offered, just barely a whisper, yet because of your proximity, you heard it.

"Thanks Belphie." You smiled tiredly, happy to hear that he would protect your dreams.

You drifted off not long after, Belphie following close behind. But he kept his word, and your nightmares didn't plague you after that, whenever Belphie could help it.

[wildestdreamsblog]

The Story of Us: Unedited

Pairing: Mahwa Character!Min Yoongi x Reader

Summary: You wake up in the body of the second female lead in a manhwa, determined to rewrite your fate. No longer willing to be trapped in unrequited love for the elusive main lead, Min Yoongi, you set out to change the ending of the story. But leaving him behind isn’t as simple as you thought. As the lines between fiction and reality blur, the narrative begins to shift in unexpected ways—Yoongi, who was once only devoted to the main female lead, starts to see you in a new light. Can you escape the cycle of heartbreak, or will you find yourself entangled in a love story you never asked for?

or in which Yoongi found out you aren't from that world and refuses to let you leave.

A/N: This is an unedited very very very raw draft! But I wanted to share this with you before I forget the ideas and before my flight today <33 let me know what you think! ALSO I WILL EDIT THIS WHEN I GET BACK NEXT WEEK AND I WILL POST IT IN TUMBLR. okay bye ily

It was your second week in Paris when curiosity finally got the better of you. Her phone—your phone now—sat untouched on the marble nightstand of your hotel suite. You’d avoided it so far, reasoning that it felt like rifling through a stranger’s diary. But tonight, as the soft glow of the Eiffel Tower illuminated the room, you gave in.

Plugging it in, the device vibrated to life, and a flood of notifications lit up the screen. Your jaw dropped slightly as you skimmed through the endless stream of missed calls and messages. Most of them were from Yoongi.

“Of course,” you muttered under your breath, scrolling through the list. There were texts, voicemails, and even some emails from him, all timestamped over the last two weeks.

His messages started casual enough, asking you where you were and if you were still avoiding him. He even stopped by the mansion only to find out that you weren’t there, let alone in the country. Not one in your mansion could tell him where you were despite his endless threats. As days passed by, however, his tone shifted to frustration.

I’m not kidding anymore. If I don’t hear from you, I’m coming to find you.

I am hiring a team to find you, princess.

His final message was dated today.

I do hope you remember that it is my birthday today. We always celebrate it together. We’re not gonna stop now just because you’re hiding from me.

You stared at the phone for a moment longer, the screen dark now but somehow still demanding your attention. Should you respond? What would you even say?

The phone vibrated in your hand, the screen lighting up with his name. Your stomach did a little flip, but you shook your head firmly. No. You weren’t going to answer. It was better this way—for him, for you, for the storyline. Yoongi belonged with the female lead, and the longer you stayed out of their orbit, the better.

Instead, you grabbed your jacket, ready to explore the city some more. Paris was too beautiful to waste time fretting over a fictional man’s messages. Let Yoongi wait.

But just as you opened your hotel room, there he was with his signature stoic face, his dark brow raised. He pointedly looked at your phone, his name on the screen. He had his phone on his ear, while you had yours in your hand. You were literally caught red-handed ignoring his calls.

He ended the call with a deliberate tap and tucked his phone into his pocket, his gaze never leaving yours.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, shocked at his sudden appearance. He was supposed to be with her. The story said that he was supposed to be with her, celebrating with her, saving her from any other accidents or situations she found herself in.

Yoongi tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” His tone was calm, but the edge was unmistakable. He stepped inside as though he owned the place. He didn’t ask for permission, didn’t wait for an invitation. He was just… there, filling the room with his presence like he always did. “And Paris, of all places? You’re more predictable than you think, princess.”

“I-I mean, I didn’t think you’d notice,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper, already regretting how ridiculous it sounded.

“What? How could I not? You literally disappeared on the face of the earth. You think I wouldn’t notice when you disappeared? When you’re not there?”

The intensity in his gaze left you momentarily stunned, your thoughts scrambling for coherence. “Y-you’re not supposed to be here…” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. Your disbelief bled into your words, your mind struggling to reconcile his presence with what you knew—or thought you knew. “The story says you’re supposed to be with her. This isn’t—this isn’t how it goes.”

“What story?”

You blinked owlishly, realizing what you’d said. “Huh? Nothing!” you exclaimed a little too quickly, waving your hands as if to physically push the moment away. “Anyway! Happy birthday!” you added, your voice unnaturally bright, hoping to distract him.

His squint deepened, a mix of curiosity and frustration flickering in his eyes. He clearly didn’t buy your deflection, but he let it slide—for now. Without a word, he crossed the room to the small bar cart in the corner, casually pouring himself a glass of whisky.

The tension in the air was thick as he swirled the amber liquid in the glass, his movements deliberate. He raised the glass to his lips, his gaze never leaving yours. After taking a slow sip, he finally spoke, his voice low, “Glad you remember my birthday, princess.”

Okay, fine. You were at loss. How were you supposed to know what you should say? This was not in the manhwa! Yoongi was basically going off-script!

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Instead, you turned your gaze to the door, silently willing him to leave. But Yoongi didn’t move. If anything, he seemed more determined, his presence as unyielding as ever.

“Fine,” he said after a long moment, his voice quieter now, almost resigned. “If you won’t come back, then I’ll stay. Paris is nice this time of year, isn’t it?”

Full story (unedited) in KoFi

[metalarmsrcool]

bookworm blurb

pairing: bookworm!reader x rafe

synopsis: you’re trying to read your book but a certain someone can’t help but distract you

warnings: fluff, smut, daddy kink, pet names, MDNI

something about books always calmed you down. you were an anxious mess ninety nine percent of the time but reading always helped shut your mind off. it made you stop thinking about all the what ifs and kept you from overthinking. you could get so into a book sometimes hours would pass when in felt like only minutes. you could completely focus in on the words on the page and completely forget everything around you. which is why you didn’t notice him standing there watching you.

rafe thought it was cute how you could talk about books all day. he didn’t have the attention span to read that much but he always admired you for it. the way your face would light up when you discovered a new favorite. sometimes you would even cry when one of your favorite characters died. he hated when you cried of course but he found it so fucking endearing how connected you could be to these characters.

he shook his head and slowly walked towards you. your stomach was against the cushions, you knees bent with you feet in the air. your hair in a messy ponytail on the cusp of falling out. they’d spent the whole day home. the weather outside one of those rare cold, rainy days. you always said you loved listening to the rain as you read. it was the perfect background noise.

“hey sweetheart.”

you jumped, quickly closing your book. a blush already rising on your cheeks. you knew you shouldn’t be embarrassed but you always were. your thighs rubbed together as you turned your head to look up at him.

“you scared me!” you let out a laugh as you made to get up but his hands pushed your back down. “what’re you doin’? don’t you wanna sit with me?”

“ ‘course I wanna. but you look comfy, keep reading I just wanted to see you.”

he lifted your legs and slid under you. his hands immediately going to massage your thighs. he could never keep his hands off you for long. Whether it was holding your hand or playing with your hair.

you went back to your book. quickly getting immersed in the words again. it wasn’t uncommon for rafe to sit with you while you read. his hands mindlessly rubbing up and down. occasionally his fingers would drift a little too far up. fingertips grazing your underwear. you hadn’t bothered getting dressed this morning. simply throwing on a shirt and pair of panties.

you’re not sure how long has passed but you were a little more then halfway done with your book.

“baby?” his fingers stopped just below your underwear. tracing the fabrics edges but never straying to your center.

“hmm?”

he knew what he was doing. you’d manage to block him out for the most part. but he’s been getting touchier the longer you read.

“you’re so pretty.” both his hands came up to squeeze your ass and you let out a little moan.

your face was burning. you’d been together for a while now but you’d never get used to this. his words. his touch.

“my pretty girl. you’re reading one of those scenes aren’t you? think i didn’t notice you clenching your thighs? don’t know why you read ‘em when i’m right here.”

you were dripping. it only took a few words and touches from him to have you soaking through your underwear. you tucked your face into your arms. your book falling onto the floor with a little thump.

“so wet. this for me or your little book?” his fingers were teasing. dragging back and forth over the material separating you from him. the material thin. his fingertips catching on your entrance every so often.

“for y-you. always for you.” god he was barely even touching you and you were a panting mess. “please rafe.”

his fingers stopped. his warmth gone in an instant. your head popped up about to ask why he stopped before you felt a sharp sting on your ass.

“tsk tsk. what did i say about you calling me that? try again sweetheart.”

his hand was massaging you over where he slapped. the skin sure to have a pink mark.

“p-please daddy. teasing too much.” you were shocked when he first asked you to call him that. you didn’t realize you’d liked it until you were a moaning mess beneath him, the word slipping out like you’d said it thousands of times before.

“see? that wasn’t so hard baby was it.”

your thighs clenched with his words. his voice alone could make you wet. he knew how to talk in a way that had you melt against him.

“you want my fingers sweet girl? your body’s tellin me ya do. so wet f’me. i don’t know why you bother wearing these. ‘m just gonna take them off.”

sure enough you felt him pulling the fabric don’t your thighs. you flushed as you felt your wetness trailing down your leg. his fingers coming back up to rub you. trailing up and your your slit. his fingernails catching on your clit making you whine.

“daddy. please.”

you could feel his gaze on you. you’d imagine a smirk lining his lips. you could feel how hard he’d become beneath you. the sweatpants leaving little to the imagination. your hips trying to rub up against him.

“so needy. c’mon baby i wanna hear you say it.”

your face was flushed. you could feel sweat dripping down your neck. his fingers avoiding the one spot you needed him to touch.

“please. p-please fuck me with your fingers.”

his middle and pointer finger immediately dipped into you. you were so wet there wasn’t even any resistance.

“yes. yes. ohmygodplease.”

before you’d met him you’d tried touching yourself. but your fingers were too slim. too short to reach that one spot inside of you. rafe’s the first one to make you cum. his fingers thick and long enough that he barely has to try.

you hear him chuckle. his fingers dragging against your walls. in and out. in and out.

“god baby. you’re dripping down my fingers. feel good yeah? i can feel you gripping me. so fucking tight.”

he lets out a groan as your walls squeeze him. you’re so close. so fucking close. tears brim your eyes and you can’t help but buck against his fingers chasing that feeling. your stomachs tightening and you’re so close you slam your eyes shut. whining and moaning incoherent words. all you can feel is his rough fingers slamming inside you.

“god please i’m about to cum. please i-i need-“

“don’t worry baby. i know what you need.”

his thumb finds your clit. running tight and fast. you throw you head back.

“ohmyfuckinggod”

you feel that spot in your stomach snap. stars dance behind your eyelids as your body slumps on the couch.

you feel him move beneath you. he’s so hard beneath you it makes you whimper at the thought of how he feels inside you.

rafe’s hand, the one he wasn’t using, comes and and grabs your head. tilting your face to look at him.

“eyes on me baby. there she is.”

you’re blinking. your eyelids fighting the heaviness that weighs down your body. yet you feel your body clench as you watch him lick you off his fingers. his eyes never leaving yours.

you feel yourself dripping onto him. no doubt leaving a wet patch on his pants.

“so fucking sweet. here, taste yourself. lick my fingers clean.”

you weakly lean forward and take his fingers in your mouth. gagging slightly as he pushes them in farther.

“there you go. good girl, cleanin’ me up so well.”

um so hi. this is my first attempt at smut and omg what do you think.

[purple-plum-petals]

Hello! I saw your homicipher requests were open, and I wanted to request some general mr scarletella fluff if possible! :D

⊱ General Fluffy Headcanons ⊰ || Mr. Scarletella Headcanons

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮ Character(s): Mr. Scarletella (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (and horror-elements), Unhealthy Obsession/Possessiveness, Cultural Barriers (Mr. Scarletella Doesn’t Fully Comprehend Certain Emotions/Expresses Them Differently Than a Human Would). Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, Romantic or Platonic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~900 words Request: “Hello! I saw your homicipher requests were open, and I wanted to request some general mr scarletella fluff if possible! :D” Author’s Note: I’ll be honest with y’all, writing straight-up fluff for these characters is really hard to do lmao. I try to stay as canon-compliant as possible (it’s low-key a curse, but it’s such a great way to practice writing 😔), so I hope these are fluffy enough for you given, well… the source material as a whole haha. Mr. Scarletella wasn’t originally one of my favorite characters from the game, but he’s honestly starting to grow on me at a concerning speed – shout-out to all the artists on Twitter who have added to my enjoyment of this man. ✌️

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

🩸: Whenever it rains, Mr. Scarletella is always standing right there next to you, holding his red umbrella over your form so you do not become drenched because of the dreary weather. He takes his job very seriously, too, not minding how cold water causes his clothing to cling to his already deathly cold skin. He does it with an ever-present smile, too, watching you with unblinking eyes while he happily follows you around. Mr. Scarletella doesn’t get cold, he typically doesn’t feel any physical sensation in the first place, so getting a little wet while being able to keep you dry is something he doesn’t mind doing for you. If you invite him to join you under the umbrella, he falters for a bit before eventually standing next to you, shielding both of you from the rain (he loves being able to stand that close to you – he can almost feel the warmth radiating from you, and he finds himself craving it even after the two of you have found somewhere to take shelter). 

🩸: If there’s something you express an interest in, whether or not Mr. Scarletella is around when you make the off-handed comment, you’ll wake up to it lying right in front of your door. It’s honestly a bit creepy sometimes, just waking up to the article of clothing you looked at for longer than three seconds or the book whose title you briefly mentioned sitting at your feet when you open the door. In the past, any gift he left used to just be haphazardly placed in front of the door, and it reminded you of when a cat would catch a mouse and bring it to their owner (you’re not going to talk about the time you woke up to a literal human heart waiting for you, though…). However, Mr. Scarletella noticed that humans who exchanged gifts typically had them wrapped in paper, so he started to mimic their behavior, too, in the hopes you would like them more. Sure, his wrap-jobs were bad, almost hilariously so, but it was the thought that mattered. 

🩸: Whenever he looks at you, his pupils further dilate (even more than they usually are – it’s almost to the point where his entire eye is purely black, the red of his irises lost in the dark void of his gaze). Mr. Scarletella loves being able to just look at you, needing nothing more in life. He’ll watch you with an unblinking stare while you do literally anything. Whether it be cleaning your home or making yourself a meal, he will observe you as if you were the most interesting thing to have ever existed. As stated before, Mr. Scarletella is very good at mimicking human behaviors so, sometimes, he’ll ask if he can join you in whatever task you’re doing. He’ll copy the way you clean the floors or perfectly execute chopping the vegetables for the dish you were making after showing him what to do a single time. He’s very pleasant to be with during moments like these since he’s very good at acting like a human most of the time (other times, though – say if you need something from the top shelf – his body will twist and morph in very unsettling ways... It just emphasizes that, even if he’s good at pretending, he still isn’t human at the end of the day).   

🩸: Being with Mr. Scarletella means that you cannot have an unserious relationship, it’s just not in his vocabulary (because he’s obsessive, especially regarding you). He’s devoted to you entirely – body, mind, and soul – gladly letting you have the red umbrella to do with it whatever you wish. He’ll shiver slightly whenever you hold it in your hands, your touch is so strangely gentle as you softly run your fingers along the handle or press a kiss to the unassuming object. It hurts but in a different way. A part of him wishes you would just throw the umbrella to the ground, dig your heel into it, and have him experience a pain that was easier for him to understand… but you don’t. He loves your sweet touches, even if it’s painful and causes his chest to ache. He finds himself wishing he could touch you in that way, too, his ghost-like caresses causing your skin to tingle with static whenever his feather-light hands graze over your flesh (he loves cuddles and loving touches, even if he can’t experience them with you in a conventional sense). 

🩸: If you ever find yourself being bothered by someone who won’t leave you alone or someone who won’t take no for an answer, well… they may or may not end up missing. If you don’t want Mr. Scarletella to take care of anyone who is bothering you for you, you’ll definitely have to explain that it’s not appropriate because of the differences in your cultures – death and murder are common in the other world, after all (I’d also explain to him that he cannot harm or threaten people you care about, either, since he honestly wants you all to himself). This does mean, though, that you know that you’re safe no matter where you are. Mr. Scarletella is always watching you so, if you find yourself in a situation where your safety is at risk, you honestly have nothing to fear. He’ll keep you safe – you’re his love, his world, his reason for living, and he won’t let someone else take that from him.