#reminds me of Empire of the Sun

[ash-and-starlight]

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[stylesispunk]

'The soldier in the armour' | part i

Marcus Acacius x f!reader

next part

summary: Lucilla arranged a wedding between you and General Acacius to protect you from Emperor Geta. Acacius doesn't love you but he has swore to protect you.

w.c: 12k>

warnings: power imbalance, age gap, arranged marriage, creep man, suicide attempt, smut, fluff, and angst.

a/n: this is a mix of two requests! I lost one of the requests in my asks so if you see it, please feel free to yell at me haha there is it! 😭 I wanted to say sorry for taking so long on this, but I made the choice to mix both because I didn't have the time to write separately and I didn't want to make you wait anymore, don't hate me, please.

| dividers by @/saradika-graphics |

There were blurry reminiscent of the life you once had. It wasn’t very different from the one you had now, but it wasn’t the same either.

The empire seemed at peace back in the day, the sun caressed your skin with the tenderness of a loving mother touch, but now it burnt your skin as if you had been set in a fire.

You remembered your grandfather death.

You recalled your uncle’s death in the arena.

Maximus death, and with him the dream of Rome died, swapping the peace of the empire away.

You recalled a brother. He was your twin, and you remembered loving him.

Lucius.

Your mother had sent him away under sacred protection, with Comodous’s death, he was the next emperor in line.

But you had stay here. After all you were a woman and your blood didn’t have the value running through your veins.

You had been forced to live with the faded memories of Lucius's blue eyes, those that mirrored your own somehow, the ones that used to gleam with the particular mischief of a kid. Now, they haunted your dreams like ghosts, a reminder of the bond torn apart by politics and promises of protection.

Each day in the palace felt like a gilded cage rusted by the passage of time, where the air was thick with deceit, and every word spoken seemed laced with hidden agendas. Emperor Geta’s obsession with you had made life unbearable. His attention was suffocating, his gaze lingering too long, his presence a constant reminder of your vulnerability as a woman in the imperial court.

Under his and his brother rules.

And when your mother and the council proposed your marriage to General Acacius, you had resisted. Marriage was meant to be a union of love, not a transaction of protection. That what you were told by her when you were a kid. Yet, as Geta’s obsession grew more unhinged, and whispers of his plans to claim you as his own wife reached your ears, you knew there was no choice.

Lucilla braided your hair, the same way she had been doing it since you were a kid. Her touch was gentle, but her face displayed her worry. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and the occasional quiver in her fingers spoke of the weight they carried on her hands, not just as your mother but as a woman who had maneuvered through the treacherous politics of the empire her entire life.

"My sweet girl," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "I know this is not the life you would have chosen. If I could take your pain and bear it myself, I would."

You turned to look at her, meeting her gaze through the reflection in the mirror. Her eyes, though still fierce, carried a shadow of regret that seemed etched into her very soul. For a moment, you weren’t the daughter of a woman which fate as empress, had been stolen, you were just a child looking for comfort in your mother’s arms.

"But you can’t," you said, your voice trembling as you tried to hold back the emotions threatening to spill over. "You sent Lucius away, and you kept me here. You say it’s for my protection, but sometimes it feels like I’ve been sacrificed for a safety it’s not real.”

Lucilla’s hands paused in your hair. Her reflection in the mirror faltered, the weight of your words cutting deep. "I sent Lucius away because he was a target," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "I thought once he was older enough, one day he would reclaim what is rightfully his. But you... I couldn’t send you away, too. I couldn’t lose both of you."

"Instead, you bound me to this place," you said, unable to stop the bitterness in your tone. "To a life I didn’t choose, to a marriage that will feel like another cage."

Lucilla moved to face you, her hands resting on your shoulders. "Acacius is a good man," she said firmly. "He may not have been the man of your dreams, but he is a man who will protect you. And I swear to you, I chose him because I saw something in him. Something that told me he would be more than just a shield for you”

Her words hung heavy in the air, and you didn’t respond. Deep down, you knew she believed she was doing the right thing, but it didn’t make the ache in your chest any less sharp.

“I wish I was dead” you whispered to yourself only.

The wedding day arrived cloaked in grandeur, yet it felt suffocatingly hollow. The palace was adorned with gold and crimson, every corner lit by the soft glow of countless lamps. Musicians played melodies meant to celebrate unity, but their music tortured your aching heart. Guests gathered in their finery; faces painted with polite smiles masking their true thoughts. You stood at the heart of it all, draped in a gown of ivory silk embroidered with golden threads, a symbol of wealth and duty, not love.

As you walked towards Acacius, flanked by your mother, the room blurred, as if it wasn’t truly real. The man awaiting you at the altar stood tall and composed, his features carved from stone. Acacius wore a ceremonial armor, the white and gold catching the light, but his expression was unreadable. His eyes met yours, steady and unyielding, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered what he truly thought of all this.

The vows were spoken. His voice was deep, calm, and detached. When he slipped the ring onto your finger, his touch was light, almost hesitant. There was no tenderness, no sign of warmth. Only duty. The ceremony ended with applause that echoed in the vast chamber, but the sound felt distant. You were bound now, not by love, but by necessity.

Emperor Geta would stop his courting towards you.

Later that evening, you found yourself alone with him in your new chambers. The fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the walls. You sat at the edge of the bed, your hands folded tightly in your lap, while Acacius stood near the window, his back to you. He seemed restless, as if the weight of his armor had been replaced by the burden of this union.

"You don’t have to speak to me if you don’t wish to," you said quietly, breaking the silence. Your voice was steadier than you expected, though your heart raced. "I know this wasn’t your choice any more than it was mine."

He turned then, his gaze settling on you. For a moment, his cold exterior softened, though only slightly. "It wasn’t," he admitted, his tone measured, as if he were weighing every word. "But it was necessary. Your mother asked me."

His honesty stung, even if it wasn’t unexpected. You nodded, unable to meet his eyes. "My mother,” you echoed, her title feeling heavy in your mouth.

Acacius sighed and ran a hand through his hair, the movement breaking his usual composed demeanor. "This isn’t what I imagined for my life either," he said, his voice quieter now. "But I’ve sworn to protect you, and I will. Even if this arrangement feels..." He paused, searching for the right word. "Unnatural."

"Unnatural," you repeated with a bitter smile. "What a lovely way to describe a marriage."

His jaw tightened at your sarcasm, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he crossed the room, stopping a few steps away from you. His presence was imposing, yet his movements were deliberate, careful, as if he were afraid of overwhelming you.

"I will do my duty," he said finally, his voice firm but not unkind. "And I will honor you as my wife. But I can’t pretend to feel something that isn’t there.”

His words were a knife, cutting through the fragile hope you hadn’t even realized you’d been clinging to. You swallowed hard and nodded, keeping your gaze fixed on your hands.

"If you need anything, you only have to ask. I’ll be in my chambers." he said. And then he was gone, leaving you alone in the vast, empty room.

That night, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling, the weight of your new reality pressing down on you. Acacius’s words echoed in your mind, and though they weren’t cruel, they felt colder than any rejection. You couldn’t blame him, not really. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

You wished you could close your eyes and be anywhere else. In the gardens with your brother, in the safety of Lucius’s protection, or even in the quiet stillness of a life unbound by imperial chains. But instead, you were here, in this gilded cage, with a husband who was as much a stranger as the walls around you.

The following days were a blur of formality and silence. Acacius remained distant but civil, his actions guided more by duty than emotion. He escorted you through the palace when required, his hand resting lightly on your arm but never lingering. At meals, he was polite, engaging in conversations when prompted but offering little more than what was necessary. You were a pair in appearance, but the gulf between you was undeniable.

Lucilla watched it all silently. She offered no commentary, but her concerned glances betrayed her thoughts. Her belief that Acacius was the right choice remained unwavering, yet even she couldn’t deny the strain in your union.

One evening, after the day’s obligations had ended, you returned to your chambers to find Acacius standing by the window. He was in his tunic, having removed the heavy armor that seemed to weigh him down as much as the marriage itself. His posture was stiff, his shoulders tense as he gazed out into the fading light of dusk.

“Do you regret this?” you asked softly, breaking the silence. The question had been clawing at you for days, and you couldn’t keep it bottled up any longer.

Acacius turned to you; his expression unreadable. “Regret isn’t the right word,” he said after a pause. “This wasn’t what I wanted, but it’s the path I’ve chosen. I will honor it.”

You crossed the room, stopping a few paces from him. “You speak of honor as if it’s enough to make this work,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “But what about us? Are we just to coexist in silence, fulfilling obligations without ever truly living?”

His brow furrowed, and for a moment, his cold demeanor cracked. “Do you think this is easy for me?” he asked, his tone sharper than you expected. “I didn’t ask for this any more than you did. But I’m trying. I’m doing everything I can to give you the life you deserve.”

“The life I deserve?” you echoed, anger bubbling to the surface. “I deserve a life where I’m not a pawn, where my choices matter. I deserve a marriage built on something more than duty.”

Acacius looked away, his jaw tightening. “And yet, here we are,” he said quietly. “Bound by something neither of us chose.”

Silence hung between you, heavy and suffocating. You turned away, wrapping your arms around yourself as you tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill. “I didn’t ask for this,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

“I know,” Acacius said, his voice softening. You felt his presence behind you, and a moment later, his hand rested lightly on your shoulder. “I can’t change what brought us here, but I can promise you this; I will protect you. Always.”

“Why do you don’t like me as a person?” you asked, unable to meet his gaze

Acacius’s hand froze on your shoulder, and for a moment, he didn’t respond. The weight of your words hung in the air; unspoken questions laced with vulnerability. Slowly, you turned to face him, your arms still wrapped around yourself as if shielding your heart from the answer you feared.

“Why don’t you like me as a person?” you repeated, your voice trembling. “Is it because you didn’t choose this? Because I’m nothing more than an obligation to you?”

Acacius’s jaw tightened, his eyes searching yours as if debating whether to speak the truth or spare you further pain. Finally, he exhaled deeply, stepping back to create some space between you. His hand fell to his side, the warmth of his touch fading.

“It’s not that I don’t like you,” he began, his voice low and measured, as if choosing his words with care. “You’re intelligent, strong-willed, and far braver than anyone gives you credit for. But... this isn’t about you. It never was.”

Your stomach twisted, the pit forming at his words. “What do you mean?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He turned away, running a hand through his dark hair as he stared out of the window. “Your mother,” he said finally, the words falling like stones. “I... I loved her.”

The breath caught in your throat, your chest tightening as if the room had suddenly closed in on you. “What?” you managed to choke out, disbelief coloring your tone.

Acacius turned back to you, his expression a mixture of regret and resignation. “Lucilla. I loved her long before any of this. Long before Commodus fell, before your world became this mess of alliances and power struggles. But she...” He hesitated, his gaze softening.

“Asked you to marry her daughter because of Geta’s courtesy” you ended his sentence. You felt disgusted by his confession and guilty for destroying the chances of your mother and Lucilla of being happy together.

Acacius's eyes widened slightly at your words, but he didn’t deny them. Instead, he looked at you with a mixture of shame and helplessness, as though he carried the weight of his choices like chains he could never cast off. “It was more than just Geta,” he said quietly. “Lucilla believed—she hoped—that this union would keep you safe from him. And I thought... I thought I could do that for her.”

You stepped back, your heart pounding. The walls of the room seemed to close in, suffocating you under the weight of his confession. “And in doing so, you destroyed any chance you both might have had for happiness,” you said, your voice trembling. “Because of you, she sacrificed everything���for what? To tie me to a man who doesn’t even want me.”

“Hey,” Acacius said quickly, stepping closer, but you held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“Don’t,” you said, your voice breaking. “Don’t try to justify it. You will never love me, and now I know why. Because all you see in me is her shadow.”

“No.” His voice was firm now, his eyes blazing with an intensity that startled you. “You’re wrong. I never wanted this to be about her, and I never wanted you to think I see you as anything less than who you are. But I can’t bury my feelings, and I can’t undo the choices we made.”

Your stomach churned with anger, disgust and despair. “Do you even realize what you’ve done?” you demanded. “You’ve tied me to a life I never wanted, a life where I’ll always wonder if I was just a piece in someone else’s plan. I’m always trapped in the middle of something.”

The tears you had been holding back finally broke free, spilling down your cheeks as sobs wracked your body. The weight of Acacius’s confession, of everything you had endured, crushed you, and the walls of the room seemed to close in around you.

“I can’t do this,” you said, your voice trembling, thick with emotion. “I can’t stay here.”

“Please,” Acacius began, his tone urgent as he stepped toward you, his hand outstretched. But you recoiled, shaking your head fiercely.

“Don’t!” you cried, your voice cracking. “Don’t come near me! Don’t tell me it’s going to be okay when nothing ever is. You’re just another person who’s used me, another person who doesn’t see me.”

The rawness of your words hung in the air, and for a moment, Acacius froze, his face etched with a mixture of pain and helplessness. But you couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. The walls of the room blurred as your tears continued to fall, and you turned abruptly, your feet moving before your mind could catch up.

You fled the room, your sobs echoing in the empty corridors as you ran blindly through the villa. Servants and guards turned to look at you, startled by the sight of their lady in such distress, but you ignored them. You needed to get away, away from Acacius, away from the suffocating weight of expectations, away from everything.

Eventually, you found yourself in the gardens, the cool night air biting at your skin. The sky above was scattered with stars, their distant light doing little to ease the turmoil within you. You collapsed onto a stone bench, your arms wrapping around yourself as you cried, the sound of your grief swallowed by the rustling of the trees.

You had tried so hard to find a place in this world, to make peace with the life forced upon you. But tonight, every fragile piece of that illusion had shattered, leaving you adrift in a sea of uncertainty and pain.

As your sobs subsided, a cold breeze swept through the garden, chilling you to the bone. For a brief moment, you thought of Acacius, of the way his eyes had softened when he spoke, of the regret laced in his voice.

But the anger and betrayal still burned too brightly within you to let those thoughts linger.

The cool night air stung your cheeks as you sprinted through the gardens, past the rows of manicured hedges and marble statues. The villa loomed behind you, its walls suffocating even at a distance. Your lungs burned, your heart hammering against your ribs, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. You didn’t know where you were going—only that it had to be far away from Acacius, from the weight of his confession, from the life you no longer recognized as your own.

Your feet carried you to the outer grounds of the villa, where the shadows grew darker, the torchlight dimmer. The muffled sound of distant voices reached your ears, guards patrolling the perimeter, but you veered away from them, toward the narrow dirt path that led to the forest. The trees ahead beckoned like a sanctuary, their darkness promising solitude.

You barely noticed the snap of a twig behind you until a voice cut through the silence.

Before you could gather your thoughts, you heard soft footsteps approaching once more. Your heart lurched. "Acacius?" you called out tentatively, but when the figure stepped into the moonlight, your breath caught.

It wasn’t Acacius.

It was Geta.

He stood there, his face shadowed yet unmistakably troubled. The smugness on his face was characteristic but still you couldn’t name his expression you couldn’t place what he was feeling, desperation? Anguish? The way his chest rose and fell told you he’d been running, as if chasing you had been his sole purpose.

“Emperor Geta? wha-what are you doing here?” you demanded, your voice shaking, not with fear but with a volatile mixture of emotions you couldn’t quite name.

“I was on my way to pay a visit to our beloved General” he answered, his sinister smile still on his face, "I must admit," he said, stepping closer, his tone dripping with false amusement, "I didn’t expect to find you wandering out here all alone. What would dear Acacius think, hmm? Leaving his precious wife unguarded in the dead of night?"

Your heart pounded harder now, but for an entirely different reason.

Geta took another step toward you, and you fought the urge to recoil. The air between you felt suffocating, charged with a tension that made your skin crawl.

"You’re drunk, emperor" you said sharply, hoping to mask the fear creeping into your voice. "Go back to the palace, Geta.”

But he only laughed, a cold, hollow sound. "Oh, I’m perfectly sober," he said, his eyes narrowing. "And I think it’s time we had a little... talk, you and I.”

“What more could you possibly want from me, Emperor?”

His eyes met yours, and for the first time, they weren’t cold or calculating. They were raw, bare, and filled with an emotion that made your stomach churn.

“You,” he said, the word barely above a whisper.

Your blood froze. “What?”

“I’ve loved you,” he said, his voice trembling. “For as long as I can remember. And I’ve hated myself for it, but I couldn’t stop. Not even when I tried to keep my distance. Not even when I told myself it was wrong.”

The ground seemed to shift beneath your feet. This was a nightmare—a fever dream born of the turmoil of the night. It had to be.

“No,” you said, shaking your head vehemently. “No, you can’t—you don’t mean that.”

“I do,” he said, stepping closer, though he didn’t reach for you. “I’ve tried to bury it; to pretend I could be the dutiful emperor everyone thought I was. But every time I see you, every time I hear your voice...” He broke off, his hands clenching into fists. “It is like I am set on fire.”

“I—” you started, but words failed you.

Geta took another step forward, his desperation palpable. “Do you see now?” he asked, his voice softer but no less intense. “I’ve only ever seen you as mine.”

“Stop,” you said, your voice trembling as you raised a hand to keep him at bay. “Just stop. Whatever you think this is, whatever you feel—it’s wrong.”

He froze at your words, his face twisting with a mixture of pain and defiance. “Wrong?” he repeated, his voice cracking. “How can it be wrong when it’s the only thing I’ve ever been certain of?”

“Because I don’t feel the same!” you shouted, your tears spilling over now. “I will never feel the same. I’m married.”

Geta flinched at your words as though you’d struck him. His face, already a storm of emotions, darkened further. “Married,” he spat, his voice low and bitter. “To a man who will never truly see you. A man who cannot love you the way I do.”

Your chest tightened as anger began to bubble within you, momentarily overpowering the fear and confusion. “Love?” you repeated, your voice trembling. “This isn’t love, Geta. Whatever you think this is, it’s twisted. You’ve turned me into some...some object to claim, a possession to own!”

His jaw clenched, and his hands balled into fists at his sides. “I have done nothing but love you,” he said through gritted teeth. “When no one else cared about your happiness, when they made you a pawn in their schemes, I thought of you. Always.”

“Then why didn’t you stop it?” you demanded, stepping forward despite yourself. “Why didn’t you, with all your power, say something? Do something? If you loved me so much, why didn’t you fight for me?”

Geta’s gaze faltered for the briefest moment, a crack in his otherwise unyielding façade. “Because I couldn’t,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “Because to love you openly would have been to destroy you. You think I don’t know how they look at me? How they whisper? They already call me unfit to rule, unstable. If they knew how I felt, they would have turned their wrath on you.”

“That’s not love,” you said, shaking your head, your voice breaking. “Love doesn’t hide in shadows. It doesn’t tear someone apart from the inside. It doesn’t...” You trailed off, pressing a trembling hand to your mouth as sobs threatened to escape. “It doesn’t feel like this.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant rustle of leaves in the night wind.

“I didn’t want this,” Geta finally said, his voice almost a whisper. “I never wanted to hurt you. But watching you with him, knowing you’re his...” His voice cracked, and he took a shaky breath. “It’s killing me.”

“I’m not yours,” you said firmly, the words sharper than you intended. “I’ll never be yours.”

Geta’s face hardened at that, the softness of his confession replaced by something colder, more dangerous. “We’ll see,” he said quietly, his tone chilling in its calmness. “The gods have a way of changing fates”

The sound of hooves pounding the earth broke through the tension that had built between you and Geta. The rhythmic thundering grew louder, and you instinctively turned toward the noise, your heart racing in your chest.

Acacius appeared from the shadows, his silhouette cutting through the night as he rode forward, leading a group of horses. His eyes immediately locked on you, and in an instant, his expression shifted—darkening, as though a storm had formed within him. When his gaze flicked to Geta, the atmosphere around them changed.

Geta remained still, but his eyes narrowed. He knew exactly who had arrived. A low tension crackled in the air, like two opposing forces on the verge of collision.

“Emperor Geta,” Acacius said sharply, his voice hard, his stance unwavering. His hand instinctively tightened on the reins of his horse as if it were a weapon, a subtle warning. “It is too late for you to be out in the middle of the night”

For a moment, Geta didn't respond. The intensity of his stare met Acacius’ head-on, the challenge in his eyes unmistakable. But Acacius didn’t flinch. His presence was commanding, and even Geta, in his turmoil, could sense the shift.

You stepped back slightly, the weight of the situation dawning on you. The conflict between these two men was palpable, and it made the ground beneath your feet feel unsteady. Your heart pounded, not just from fear, but from something deeper, more painful. The realization that you were now caught between these two men who seemed to hold pieces of your life in their hands.

Geta’s lips curled slightly in a sardonic smile, though there was an edge to it.  “I bet is too late to pay a visit to our beloved general"

Acacius ignored the provocation, his eyes now focused solely on you, his voice softening. “Are you all right?” he asked, though it was laced with an undertone of concern, almost as though he was afraid to hear the answer.

You could feel your chest tighten as Acacius’s eyes met yours, the concern in his voice stirring something deep inside of you, something vulnerable. You wanted to say something, anything to ease the tension, but the words wouldn’t come. Your emotions were a storm, a swirl of anger, fear, and confusion that made it impossible to think clearly.

Before you could respond, Geta’s voice cut through the moment like a knife. “Does he really care, or is this just about keeping control? Do you really think he’s here for you?” He sneered, stepping forward as if trying to push Acacius out of the space between you. “Or is it just the idea of you that he wants to control, the power that comes with your bloodline?”

The truth was beyond the obsession Geta had towards you, there was fear. He was aware your blood belonged to the realm, so you weren’t a lover he wanted to possess but a treat he wanted to eliminate.  

You weren’t just a woman who caught his eye; you were the reminder of the power he feared losing. Your existence in the realm, your connection to the throne, made you a target in his mind. His twisted love for you wasn’t love, it was a deep-seated need to control, to erase what he couldn’t possess or manipulate.

Your marriage to the General of Rome put you in a place where you could go back to ruling the empire.

Acacius stood tall, his eyes still fixed on Geta, the tension between them thick enough to choke the air around you. His expression was hard, his jaw clenched with quiet fury, but it was the protective energy that radiated from him that caught your attention. He wasn’t going to let this spiral any further.

"Whatever matter you think needs discussing, Geta," Acacius began, his voice steady but firm, "it can wait until tomorrow. Not tonight. Not in the presence of my wife."

The words were sharp, final. There was a strength in them that sent a clear message, a line that Geta could not cross. Acacius’s gaze never wavered as he took a step forward, a silent challenge to Geta, daring him to try anything more.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, torn between relief and dread. Acacius's words were a shield, but they didn’t seem to do anything to quell the storm brewing between the two men.

Geta’s face hardened, the flicker of emotion that had passed through him earlier replaced by a steely resolve. “Your wife, Acacius,” he said, the venom in his tone unmistakable, “is a part of this empire, and the future of it is bound to her. Don’t think for a second you can keep her out of this.”

Acacius’s grip tightened on the reins of his horse, his knuckles white as he kept his stance, unwavering. “I’m not keeping her out of anything,” he said, his voice low but deadly. “But as her husband, I will not let you use her to fuel your delusions of power.”

For a moment, the air seemed to freeze, the threat hanging between them like a sword poised to fall. But Geta, ever the strategist, knew when to back down. He held your gaze for one last moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without another word, he turned away, his posture stiff, and he strode off, leaving the two of you standing there in the quiet aftermath.

You exhaled shakily, feeling a weight lift from your chest, but it didn’t last. The shadows of what had just transpired seemed to cling to you, the fear, the confusion still buzzing in your veins. Acacius’s protection, though fiercely given, couldn’t erase the uncertainty of everything that had just happened.

He turned to you then, his expression softening, though the hard edge from earlier remained in his eyes. “Are you all right?” His voice was gentle now, and the concern in his gaze pulled at your heart in a way you couldn’t explain.

You nodded but soon after you moved your head, everything went completely black.

The world slowly came back into focus, the heavy weight of unconsciousness lifting from your mind like a veil being drawn aside. You blinked, the sharp light of the morning creeping through the windows, and the gentle rustle of sheets beneath you signaled you were no longer outside. You were back inside, in the cool, quiet comfort of your chambers.

Your body felt heavy, as though every muscle had been drained of energy, but the pain from the night before had faded, replaced by a strange weariness that seeped into your bones. You tried to sit up, but a soft voice stopped you before you could move.

“Careful,” Lucilla said, her tone gentle but firm. She was sitting by your bedside, her eyes fixed on you with a mixture of concern and calm reassurance. “You need to rest.”

Your heart raced for a moment, the fragments of the night’s events rushing back to you. Geta’s confrontation, the threat in his voice, and Acacius standing between you, the tension thick enough to choke the air. You could still feel the sharp edge of fear in your chest, but for now, you were safe.

“Mother…” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “What happened? Is… is everything all right?”

Lucilla’s eyes softened, and she reached out to brush a lock of hair from your face, her touch soothing. “You fainted, my lady. After the confrontation with the emperor, you collapsed. Acacius was frantic. He had you brought inside immediately. He’s been by your side all night.”

Her words made your heart flutter, a strange mixture of emotions flooding you. Acacius had been there, waiting, watching over you, just as he always did. But there was something else in the air, something unspoken between you and him that neither of you could ignore.

“He stayed with me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The thought of him there, protecting you, made something twist inside your chest.

Lucilla nodded, her expression softening. “Yes. He didn’t leave your side for a moment. He’s worried about you.”

As Lucilla’s words settled into your mind, the door to your chambers creaked open. You barely had time to turn your head before Acacius stepped inside, his figure towering in the doorway. His presence seemed to fill the room, his eyes immediately locking with yours. There was a quiet intensity in his gaze, a depth of emotion you couldn’t quite decipher. For a moment, it felt as though the world outside of your small room had disappeared, leaving just the two of you, caught in the stillness of the moment.

He took a step forward, but it was the way he looked at your mother that made your breath catch in your throat. The same tension you had felt between you and him last night now seemed to make sense. The raw honesty, the confession he had made—the admission of his feelings, the vulnerability in his voice—was clear in that single glance. And in that moment, something inside you recoiled.

You were a burden.

“Acacius…” you whispered, barely able to speak, your mind reeling. You could feel the panic rising inside you, suffocating, as if there was no room to breathe in his presence. Was this what you had been running from all along?

He stepped closer, his voice steady but strained. “You’re awake,” he said quietly, almost as if he was still processing the fact. His eyes softened when they met yours, but there was a flicker of something darker behind them, something you couldn’t place.

“I was worried about you,” he added, his tone still holding a thread of concern, as if your well-being was his sole focus.

You swallowed hard, your mouth dry, and for a moment, you couldn’t find your voice. Lucilla, sensing the weight of the moment, quietly excused herself, leaving you and Acacius alone in the quiet of the room.

As the door clicked shut behind her, the silence between you two seemed to grow heavier, more suffocating. He took another step closer, his gaze never leaving yours, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet it fully. Every part of you screamed for distance, for space, and yet, he remained close—too close.

“Acacius, I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat. How could you put into words what you were feeling? The confusion, the fear, the overwhelming weight of it all? It wasn’t just about what Geta had done or said; it was about the emotions Acacius had stirred in you, emotions you didn’t know how to deal with.

You wanted to feel loved in a way your skin felt when the sun caresses your face in the midst of a cold winter.

But Acacius could never love you.

The days passed like slow, heavy drops of rain. The storm of emotions that had churned inside of you seemed to settle, but it wasn’t a calm; it was the oppressive stillness before something darker took hold. Acacius remained by your side, always present, but the warmth that once ignited in your chest when you saw him, when you felt his concern, began to dim. His confession, those raw words of love for your mother, left a lingering sting that you couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard you tried.

Each time you saw him, you felt a coldness creeping into your heart, like the chill of winter settling into your bones. It wasn’t that you hated him, far from it, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something fundamental had broken. You had wanted to feel cherished, wanted in a way that made you feel whole, like the sun warming your skin during the harshest of winters. But instead, you felt like the shadows of something lost were all that remained.

The days blurred together as you drifted through them in a fog. The joy that once accompanied your moments with Acacius, his gaze, his touch, seemed to fade with each passing day. You were still there, still functioning, but you weren’t alive in the way you had once been. You were a shadow of the person who had laughed freely, who had dreamed of a future with the man who had stood beside you through every storm.

Now, his presence only reminded you of what could never be. Every word from him felt weighted, laced with an unspoken truth you couldn’t escape. He was there, yes—but it was Lucilla’s name that seemed to linger in the air between you, a constant reminder of what could never happen.

You stopped meeting his gaze as often, your conversations clipped and polite, but distant. You couldn’t pretend anymore that things were the same. You couldn’t ignore the hollow feeling that had taken root inside you, gnawing at you like a slow, insidious poison.

The days felt endless. The life you had once felt for each moment, for each glance he gave you, slipped away bit by bit. You told yourself you were strong, that you would move on, that you could adapt to the life in front of you. But the spark that once filled your soul, the fire that had kept you going, was slowly being smothered. Each day without clarity, without answers, without that spark, made you more resigned, hollower.

The days blurred into weeks, and life continued its chaotic, inevitable march forward. The grandeur of Rome, its towering structures and ancient streets, became a distant backdrop to the turmoil that had taken root within you. Despite the growing tension surrounding you, your presence at the grand events of the empire remained. There were battles in the Colosseum—events that had once stirred the blood, filled with anticipation and excitement. Now, they were merely noise, the sounds of clashing steel and roars of the crowd unable to penetrate the numbness that had taken hold of your soul.

Geta's obsession with you deepened, his presence more frequent, more invasive. His eyes never seemed to leave you, and every word he spoke, every look, was an attempt to assert control, to draw you into his tangled web of fear and power. But his attempts only felt more suffocating. You were trapped, like an animal in a gilded cage, unable to escape his watchful gaze. He wasn’t interested in you as a woman; you were a symbol to him, something to manipulate, to dominate, to erase the threat you posed to his fragile claim on the empire.

Despite your growing isolation, Acacius remained at your side. His concern for you was evident, though he seemed to be walking on a thin line, careful not to overstep or push you too hard. He knew you were withdrawing, knew that something had shifted between you, but he didn’t know how to reach you. He could see the distance in your eyes, the way you pulled away when he tried to comfort you. And it broke him, though he never spoke of it.

There were feelings he didn’t know he was able to feel, appearing.

The battles at the Colosseum grew more brutal, the spectacle becoming more and more gruesome with each passing day. The roar of the crowd no longer thrilled you. The sight of blood, the cries of victory and death—it all blended into a backdrop of life that felt increasingly distant, like you were watching it all from behind a veil. You were alive, yes—but you weren’t truly living.

One evening, as you sat beside Acacius in the grand hall, your hand in his, you tried to force a smile. You knew he was watching, hoping for some sign that the woman he once knew was still there. The fingers that held yours were strong, steady, but you felt a chill crawl up your spine. His warmth didn’t reach you anymore. His presence, once a comfort, now felt like a reminder of everything you had lost.

"Smile," he whispered, his voice gentle, coaxing. "Just for tonight. For me."

You nodded, a small, strained smile curling at the corner of your lips. But as you smiled, something inside you felt hollow. You knew what he saw—the facade of a woman who was still whole, still alive. But inside, you were dying. The life that once burned brightly in you had been extinguished, snuffed out by the weight of betrayal, fear, and a love that could never be returned. And as you smiled for him, you felt like an actor playing a part—faking a life that wasn’t truly yours anymore.

The crowd cheered as Acacius raised your hand, the symbol of his victory and his loyalty to Rome. But you couldn’t feel the victory. You couldn’t feel the joy. You just felt death. Not the death of your body, but the death of everything you had once been. The woman who dreamed, who hoped, who believed in love and light, was slipping further away with each passing day.

Acacius, for all his strength, could never reach you. You could see the worry in his eyes, the way he would glance at you when he thought you weren’t looking, as if he was searching for something—anything—that would tell him you were still there. But you weren’t. You were a shadow, a flicker of the woman you used to be, trapped in the space between life and death.

As the days stretched on, Geta’s obsession with you grew more dangerous. His presence became a constant reminder of your captivity, the ever-present shadow of his desire to control. He wasn’t content with merely watching anymore. No, now he was making his move, pushing harder, testing boundaries. You could feel the weight of his eyes on you, even when he wasn’t in the room. He was always there, lurking, waiting.

Acacius noticed it too. He saw the way you tensed whenever Geta entered the room, the way your eyes darted nervously, the way your smile faltered. He knew you were becoming a shell of the person you once were. And for the first time, Acacius found himself unsure of how to help you. He had always been your protector, your constant, but now, it felt like he was failing you.

“You don’t have to pretend for me,” he said one night, his voice rough with emotion. He reached for your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I see it. The distance. I see you slipping away from me, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

You wanted to tell him, to let him in, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you turned your gaze toward the distant horizon, watching the sun set behind the buildings of Rome, casting long shadows across the streets. It was a beautiful sight, but you couldn’t appreciate it. The beauty of the world was lost on you now.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, though the words didn’t feel like enough. They would never be enough.

Acacius squeezed your hand tighter, as if trying to hold onto you, to keep you from slipping away entirely. But you knew, deep down, that it was already too late. You were already gone.

The days continued to stretch on, the weight of your own existence pressing down on you with each breath you took. You moved through life like a specter, haunted by your own thoughts, consumed by the shadow of everything that had transpired. The air around you felt thick, suffocating, and nothing seemed to reach you anymore.

One evening, after yet another long day of feigned smiles and empty conversations, you retreated to your chambers. You had long since stopped caring about the grand appearances, the masks you were expected to wear. In the silence of your room, the darkness that had begun to take root in your heart felt heavier than ever before. It was as though the weight of your despair had become a tangible thing, pulling you under, drowning you from the inside.

You moved toward the bath, the cool marble surface inviting you with its quiet promise of solitude. You sank into the warm water, hoping, if only for a moment, to drown out the noise inside your mind, to forget the suffocating reality that had become your life. The water enveloped you, and for a brief moment, you felt weightless, free—free from everything that bound you, from Geta's obsession, from the looming presence of the empire, and from the love you could never have.

But the peace was fleeting. The thoughts came rushing back, overwhelming and relentless. Acacius’s touch, his words, his confession of love for your mother—it all swirled in your mind like a storm, too much to bear. And in that moment, something inside you snapped. You wanted it all to end. The pain. The confusion. The crushing weight of everything.

As the water rose higher, you slipped under, the coolness surrounding you like an embrace. It was quiet. So quiet. The pressure in your chest intensified, a cold finality settling in. Your body felt heavier, the world fading as you sank deeper into the water. The voices in your head quieted, the darkness enveloping you completely. And for the first time in a long while, you felt... peace.

But fate had other plans.

Just as the darkness threatened to consume you completely, a sudden hand gripped your arm, pulling you from the water with desperate force. The world rushed back in an instant, blinding, harsh, and you gasped for air, coughing, choking as water flooded your lungs.

“No!” a familiar voice cried out, filled with fear. “Don’t you dare do this!”

Your vision swam as Acacius’s strong arms pulled you up, his face a mask of panic and determination. He moved quickly, his hands steady as he worked to lift you from the bath and cradle you against his chest. His voice was shaky, though he tried to hide it.

“Stay with me,” he urged, his voice breaking as he held you close, his hands pressing against your wet skin. “Please. Don’t leave me.”

You were too weak to respond, your body trembling, your mind foggy. But his words—don’t leave me—cut through the haze. They echoed in your ears, but they didn’t make sense. Why would he want you to stay when you were nothing more than a burden, a shadow of what you once were?

“Acacius…” you whispered weakly, your throat raw as you fought to speak. His name felt like the last thread that held you to this world. "Why...?"

His grip tightened on you, his body radiating warmth as he looked down at you, his eyes filled with desperation and anguish.

“Because I want to love you,” he said, his voice shaking but steady with resolve. “I’ve always wanted to love you. You don’t have to carry all of this alone. I don’t care about the empire, about the danger, or the expectations of the world. I care about you. I want to be there for you—to love you.”

His words hung in the air like an echo, reverberating through the silence that had settled between you. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to reach for that spark of hope, the promise of love he was offering, but the weight of everything you had been through, everything you had lost, held you back.

You closed your eyes, your breath still shaky, and tried to push away the wave of conflicting emotions that surged within you. Acacius’s love, though it was sincere, felt like a distant dream—a dream that you didn’t deserve. How could you accept his love when you felt so broken, so consumed by the darkness inside of you?

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but filled with the depth of the regret you felt. “I’m not who you think I am. I’ve lost so much of myself...”

Acacius gently cupped your face in his hands, his touch tender and comforting, as though he were trying to steady you from the storm that raged inside of you. He was quiet for a long moment, his gaze soft but unwavering.

“You’re not lost,” he said, his voice low but steady. “You’re not alone, even when it feels like it. I’m here. I will always be here, whether you believe it or not.”

The warmth of his touch seemed to seep into your skin, like a quiet promise. But even with that promise, there was still a part of you that resisted. You were drowning—not just in the water, but in the weight of your own thoughts, your own feelings. How could you possibly let yourself love again, after everything that had happened?

“I don’t know how to let anyone love me anymore,” you admitted, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "Not after everything I've been through... everything that's been taken from me."

He leaned closer, his forehead resting gently against yours as his hands moved to hold you more firmly. "You don’t have to figure it all out right now. Just let me be here with you, for as long as you need. You don’t have to carry the world on your own anymore."

His words settled in your heart, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to breathe, to feel his presence. It wasn’t a solution to all that haunted you, but it was something—something real.

“You’re not alone, either,” you whispered, your voice still fragile but more certain than before. “I don’t want to be alone, either.”

The quiet between you felt like an unspoken promise, an understanding. You didn’t have all the answers, and you didn’t know how to fix what was broken.

Acacius carefully lifted you in his arms, his movements gentle yet strong, as though he feared breaking you. The room was quiet, save for the sound of his steady breathing and the soft rustle of the sheets as he settled you onto the bed. His hands lingered at your sides, making sure you were comfortable, as though he couldn't bear to be too far away, even for a second.

You lay there, your body trembling from the cold of the water and the emotions that had swirled through you in such a short time. But there was a warmth now, a steadiness in the way Acacius was with you, something that grounded you amidst the chaos. His presence filled the space between the silence, and you wanted to hold onto that feeling, to keep it close as though it were the last thread that could save you from the darkness.

But even as your thoughts tangled, your voice came out soft, barely a whisper, as if afraid to disturb the fragile calm that had settled around you.

"Acacius," you said, your voice catching slightly. "Stay... please."

The words hung in the air, vulnerable and raw, and you could feel your heart beating faster as you waited for his response. You weren’t sure what you were asking for—comfort, reassurance, or simply the presence of someone who cared when everything else seemed so uncertain.

Acacius didn’t speak at first. He simply moved to sit on the edge of the bed, his gaze intense, but filled with an understanding that pierced through the barriers you had built around yourself. His hand gently rested on yours, his thumb brushing over your skin in slow, soothing motions.

"Of course," he finally said, his voice a soft promise, like the calm after a storm. "I’m not going anywhere."

He pulled the blanket over you, ensuring you were warm and comfortable, and then he settled beside you, close but not too close. His presence filled the space beside you, but there was a tenderness in the way he lay next to you, giving you the space you needed while still remaining close enough to feel his warmth, his care.

You turned your head slightly, your eyes meeting his in the dim light of the room. The vulnerability in your chest, the fear of asking for too much, made you hesitate for a moment. But then, with a shaky breath, you spoke again, this time more urgently.

"Stay with me," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "Just... for tonight. I don’t want to be alone."

Acacius’s gaze softened, his lips curling into a faint, reassuring smile. Without saying a word, he shifted closer to you, his arm slipping around you as he pulled you gently against him. His warmth enveloped you, and for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to rest, truly rest, without the weight of the world pressing down on you.

In that moment, as you felt his heartbeat steady against yours, the storm inside you quieted, if only for a little while. The darkness still lingered at the edges of your thoughts, but Acacius’s presence, his steady, unyielding care, was a reminder that, for now, you didn’t have to face it alone.

And so, you closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his arms around you pull you into a fragile peace, knowing that, for this one night, you were not lost.

In the days that followed, something shifted between you and Acacius. It was subtle at first, like the quiet change of seasons, but it was unmistakable. His devotion to you became more evident in every action, in every word. It wasn’t just the caring gestures—though those were abundant—but the way his gaze lingered on you, the way his touch seemed to convey more than words ever could. You could feel the change in the air, like the warmth of the sun breaking through the clouds.

Acacius, the loyal general, who had always been steadfast in his duties to the empire, had turned his focus entirely toward you. His thoughts, his actions, and his very presence were now centered around ensuring that you were safe, that you were cared for.

Every morning, he would bring you breakfast, a small smile on his lips as he placed the tray before you. He would sit with you, talking about the day’s events, but his attention was always on you, his eyes soft with concern, his every movement thoughtful. If you showed signs of fatigue, he would insist on helping you with whatever you needed, no matter how small. And when the nights came, he would always stay, watching over you as you slept, keeping his promise to never let you be alone.

At times, you felt the weight of his care, the devotion he gave so freely, and it both soothed and unsettled you. The fear of being a burden gnawed at your mind, but each time you tried to withdraw, Acacius was there, offering reassurance, pulling you back from the edge.

“What about when you have to go into battle again?” you asked once, your voice barely above a whisper. The question had been haunting you ever since your marriage. No matter how much Acacius promised protection, he was a general first—a soldier bound to the empire’s whims.

He hesitated, his eyes meeting yours. For a moment, the confident, stoic mask he always wore faltered, and you saw the man beneath it, a man burdened with duty and uncertainty.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I will make sure you’re safe before I leave. Always.”

His honesty was disarming, and for once, it didn’t feel like an empty reassurance. Still, the thought of him riding off to battle, leaving you behind in the suffocating grip of the palace, sent a shiver down your spine.

“And what if you don’t come back?” you pressed, your voice trembling.

Acacius stepped closer, his gaze steady. “I will come back,” he said firmly. “I’ve survived countless battles, and I’ll survive the next one. Because now, I have a reason to.”

His words made your breath catch, and you turned away, unwilling to let him see the tears welling in your eyes. “Don’t say things like that,” you murmured. “Don’t make promises you might not be able to keep.”

“I’m not making promises,” he said, his voice softer now. “I’m telling you the truth.”

You looked at him then, your emotions a whirlwind of fear, anger, and something else—something you weren’t ready to name. “You make it sound so simple,” you said bitterly.

“It’s not,” he admitted, his expression unflinchingly honest. “But I’ve faced death more times than I can count, and I’ve always fought to live. Now, I fight for you, too.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Finally, you broke the silence, your voice raw.

“I don’t want to be the reason you don’t come back.”

He reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand on your shoulder. “You won’t be,” he said. “If anything, you’re the reason I will.”

The vulnerability in his voice was almost too much to bear. You closed your eyes, taking a shaky breath. “I don’t know how to do this, Acacius,” you admitted. “I don’t know how to let myself care for someone when everything in my life has been taken from me.”

He stepped closer, his hand sliding down to take yours. “You don’t have to figure it out all at once,” he said. “But let me stay by your side while you do.”

His grip was firm yet gentle, and in that moment, you felt a flicker of something you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in years: hope.

“Just... come back,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

“I will,” he promised, his gaze unwavering. “Always.”

And for the first time, you allowed yourself to believe him.

After the gladiators’ fights had concluded in the Colosseum, you and your mother, left the arena, your minds still lingering on the chaos of the day. Acacius had been by your side throughout the event, his protective presence never wavering. But you noticed something had shifted in him—the tension in his jaw, the restlessness in his eyes, as if his mind was elsewhere. It was as though the very air around him had grown heavier.

As you made your way back to the villa, you could feel the weight of the looming battle on his shoulders. The orders from Emperor Geta and Caracalla had been clear: Acacius was to return to the front lines in two days. The idea of losing him, of seeing him walk into another battle with the same fierce determination he had shown every time, filled you with dread.

The villa felt quieter that night, the cool breeze brushing against the stone walls, but inside, the silence was almost suffocating. Acacius was pacing in his chamber, his armor now set aside, but his mind seemed far from peace. You watched him from the doorway for a moment, your heart aching as you saw him battle with his own thoughts.

"Acacius," you said softly, stepping closer.

He didn’t look up right away, but when he did, his eyes seemed to carry the weight of the world.    "I’m sorry," he muttered. "I know you want more from me, but right now, my duty—my loyalty—it demands more than I can give."

You walked toward him, the soft sound of your sandals barely reaching his ears. "You don't have to apologize," you said quietly, touching his arm. "But I can see it... you're restless. You're carrying the burden of something you shouldn't have to face alone."

He sighed deeply, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I have no choice. The orders are clear. If I don't return to battle, I dishonor my men, and if I do... I risk everything. Including you."

Your heart fluttered at his words. You moved a little closer, your voice softer now. "You don't have to risk everything alone. I’m here, Acacius. If you need my company tonight, I will stay. I will help carry your burden, if only for this one night."

For a moment, he stood still, as if weighing your words. Then, slowly, his hands reached for you, gently pulling you closer until there was no distance left between you. The tension in his shoulders softened, but only slightly. His eyes, filled with uncertainty and longing, met yours.

"I don’t deserve you.” he murmured, his voice rough.

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "You are more than that. You are the man who has kept me safe, and for that alone, I would follow you anywhere."

He seemed to hesitate for just a breath, then, with a sudden urgency, he kissed you. It was gentle at first, a soft press of his lips against yours, as if he were testing the waters. But the moment your lips met, everything else faded. The weight of the empire, the war, the orders—none of it mattered in that instant. The world outside was silent, and the only thing that existed was the warmth of his kiss, the soft but undeniable spark between you.

As he pulled away slightly, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing a little faster, your hearts racing. His voice was low, almost a whisper. "You’ve made this so much harder”

You smiled softly, your hands resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers. "Maybe that’s exactly what I want," you whispered, a playful glint in your eyes.

His lips brushed against yours again, this time more urgently, more desperately, as if the fear of losing you in the battle, or the fear of losing everything in the coming days, had driven him to this moment.

And in that kiss, you both found something you hadn’t realized you were searching for. You had been lost in the chaos of the empire, in the uncertainty of what came next, but in this moment, with him, everything felt right. You weren’t alone anymore.

As you pulled away from the kiss, Acacius didn’t let go of you right away, his hands still resting on your shoulders, as though afraid you might slip away. His breath was uneven, his chest rising and falling in time with your own. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the world outside the villa’s walls completely forgotten.

Carefully, he brought his hands to your shoulders, traveling down your arms, at the same time your skin bristled under his touch. You had never felt this before, the mixture of nerves and lust of being touched with delicacy and love that you didn't know could exist.

He carried you to his bed gently, in slow steps without taking his gaze from your eyes that looked at him with curiosity and lost in the ecstasy of the moment.

Lust and desire.

The fabric of your dress felt suffocating against your skin and as if he had read your mind, he peeled your clothes off your skin leaving you completely exposed under his gaze. You gaped at him, half embarrassed, half impressed, then he pulled his lips back upon yours, palming your breast, as he made his way to his bed.

You chuckled as you lay there, and his face matched your smile as he continued to kiss you down your neck. The warmth of your uneven breaths mingled, enveloping you both as he quickly worked on his garments, and as soon as his clothes were removed, there was nothing to keep you apart. You curled your fingers in his hair as he kissed you all over your body for the first time. You could sense the emotions, but the intimacy and lust were like a fire in your core.

You felt Acacius' lips against your hips and angled them up for him. You were already dripping as he licked a route from your thigh to your cunt before sucking on your clit and pressing his fingers against you.

You whimpered while holding his head between your legs. His cock hardened as the sound from your lips and you clenched around his fingers. He sucked like he was hungry, forcing your legs apart till you had one calf under his shoulder. His free hand moved up your torso, grabbing your breast, as his nose rubbed against your clit. For instinct, you buried your heel into his back and dragged him closer until all he could taste was you.

He fucked you slowly, taking his time to taste your wetness on his lips before locking eyes with you. You were flustered, and your eyes shone.

"You...fuck," you whispered.

"I want you; I need you before leaving" he whispered desperately, going forward between your legs, forcing your knees up to your breasts, and plunging into you easily. You sighed and leaned forward to kiss him. Your hands were on the back of his neck, and he was on your breasts, attempting to touch you everywhere. As you both kissed, you raised your hips to fuck up into him as he drove down into you, attempting to be as cautious as possible.

You mumbled "Acacius, I love you" into his ear before he reclaimed your lips. He leaned down and sucked your nipples, lightly biting your breasts.

“I’ll come back for you cara mia” he promised, between thrusts, grinding his cock as deep as into you as it could go as you encouraged him with your moans and nails scratching down his back. Those marks would accompany the wounds of thousands of battles.

He slid his hand down to your pussy and rubbed along your clit. You fucked yourself harder on him by thrusting back against him right away.

When you came, he whispered something on your neck. You clutched around him and your hips trembled even as he continued to fuck you. Soon after, he began thrusting into you and eventually pulled out while making uneasy gasps in your shoulders. After that, the only sound in the room was the mingling of your breaths.

Acacius was nosing at your throat, promising he would come back alive to continue his life adoring you

The room was quiet, save for the soft rhythm of your breaths, which mingled together in the stillness. Time seemed to stretch, the weight of the moment settling around you like a gentle, unspoken promise.

his warm breath grazing your neck, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. His hands, still holding you with a tenderness you hadn't known before, seemed to search for something, as though memorizing the contours of your skin, tracing the lines of your jaw, your shoulders, your breath.

"I’ll come back," he murmured, his voice hushed, as though sharing a secret only meant for you. "I promise, I will come back to you. I won't leave you alone."

His lips brushed lightly against the soft skin of your throat, and you could feel the intensity of his words in that simple, delicate touch. You felt a sudden knot tighten in your chest, a mixture of longing and fear, but more than that, a deep, consuming need to believe him, to trust in the promise he was making.

"I will continue my life loving you," he continued, his voice thick with emotion, as though each word was a vow, a binding thread between you two. "When the battles are over, when the storm has passed, I'll be here and I will adore you for as long as I live."

You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his body pressed so closely against yours, the heat of his devotion seeping into your soul. For a brief, fleeting moment, it felt as if everything else faded away—the empire, the scheming, the endless pressures. It was just the two of you in that room, your hearts beating as one, a bond forged in the quiet moments when nothing else mattered.

You took a deep breath, feeling his hands gently cradle your face, his thumb brushing away the stray tear that had escaped. Your hand instinctively reached for his, holding onto him tightly as if the act itself could somehow make his promise real, could anchor him to you forever.

"I need you to come back," you whispered, the words escaping before you could stop them, your voice trembling with the weight of the truth behind them.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his hands steady and comforting. Then, with a soft and almost hesitant voice, Acacius finally asked, "Could you stay with me tonight? Sleep beside me."

The vulnerability in his words surprised you. Acacius had always been the strong, unshakable general, the one who carried the weight of the empire on his shoulders with unyielding resolve. But now, in the quiet of your shared space, he seemed as human as anyone, his guard lowered, his needs simple, yet profound.

Your heart gave a quiet thud in your chest, and without hesitation, you nodded. "Of course," you said softly. "I’m not going anywhere."

His eyes softened, the slightest flicker of relief crossing his features. He led you over to the bed, the weight of the day seeming to leave him as he settled beside you. The soft rustle of the sheets was the only sound as he adjusted, his body tense but slowly relaxing as you lay beside him.

For a moment, neither of you said anything, simply sharing the same quiet space, your presence the only comfort either of you needed. But the closeness was enough. It was as though the war, the orders, the empire itself could not reach you here, in this space that was just yours and his.

"Stay with me," he whispered after a while, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. His hand found yours in the dark, his fingers threading through yours, a simple but grounding gesture.

You squeezed his hand gently, resting your head on the pillow beside him. "I’m not going anywhere, Acacius. I’m here. And I’ll be here tomorrow, and the day after, no matter what happens."

The words hung in the air, simple but true, and in that moment, you both found something precious, peace in the storm, a promise without words. Acacius’s breath slowed, his body finally releasing the tension that had held him captive for so long.

Acacius woke slowly, the gray light of early morning spilling softly into the room. For a moment, the heaviness of his reality came crashing down on him—the orders from Geta and Caracalla, the battle that awaited him, and the uncertainty of what lay ahead. The weight was still there, pressing on his chest like an unrelenting force, refusing to let him breathe freely.

But then, he became aware of something else.

You.

Your warmth was pressed against him, your head resting on his chest, your hand lightly curled over his heart. The soft rise and fall of your breathing matched the quiet rhythm of the room, and for the first time in days, maybe even months, Acacius felt the smallest flicker of peace.

He glanced down at you, his eyes tracing the curve of your face in the gentle morning light. You looked so calm, so trusting, nestled beside him, as though you belonged there. A part of him still couldn’t believe you had stayed, that you had given him this small gift of solace before he left for what could be his last battle.

Carefully, as though afraid to wake you, he lifted a hand and brushed a strand of hair from your face. His touch lingered for a moment, his fingers barely grazing your skin, and he let out a quiet sigh. How had it come to this? How had you, someone he had been ordered to protect, become the person who made him feel safe?

The thought brought a bittersweet smile to his lips. He knew he didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve you. And yet, here you were, giving him the strength he hadn’t even known he needed.

You stirred slightly, nuzzling closer to him in your sleep, and he froze for a moment, unsure if you were waking. But you only let out a soft sigh and settled against him once more. He couldn’t help the way his arm tightened around you, holding you closer, as though he could shield you from the world for just a little while longer.

His voice was barely a whisper, more to himself than to you. "What have you done to me?"

As the minutes passed, Acacius let himself stay in that moment, letting go of the weight of his duty, if only for a little while. With you there, the storm within him seemed to quiet, and for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to hope.

When you finally began to stir, blinking sleepily up at him, he felt his chest tighten. Your eyes met his, and though your expression was soft, he could see the worry lingering there.

"Good morning," you murmured, your voice warm and still tinged with sleep.

"Good morning," he replied, his voice lower than usual, as though the morning had stolen some of his strength.

You reached up, your fingers brushing lightly against his cheek. "You didn’t sleep much, did you?"

He shook his head, his lips quirking into a faint smile. "No. But this... this helped."

You smiled at that, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. "Then let me help you more. Whatever you need, Acacius, I’m here."

He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into your touch as though it was the only thing keeping him steady. When he opened them again, his gaze was clear, filled with something deeper than gratitude.

"I’ll remember this," he said softly, his voice carrying a promise you didn’t fully understand but felt all the same. "No matter what happens, I’ll remember."

[nadiv22]

Other Jews: *clever Jewish humor based on thousands of years of culture and history*

Me: We the Jeople (Jewish people),

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

devotion. l General Marcus Acacius

Summary:  he returned to Rome in glory, he returned to you

Warnings:  smut, angst, unprotected sex (don't do it!), fingering, mention of pregnancy, a few nasty words

A/N: that was a quick shot. i hope you'll be gentle with me. your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

You saw perfectly how his brown eyes widened when he saw you in the crowd of guests in the Emperor's palace. The golden wreath on his curly dark hair, the sun-kissed body dressed in white and gold - he looked like one of the Gods you could worship in a temple. 

And wasn't he one of them? One of those legendary heroes? The one who brought glory to the Roman Empire. One of your Emperor's favorites.

Wasn't he the man you had loved for so long?

When he crossed the threshold of your home late in the evening, you could finally fall into each other's arms. In that moment, he was your Marcus, the man you loved more than life, to whom you had promised loyalty, to whom you had promised eternal devotion and faithfulness.

His warm, plush lips crushed against yours in a kiss full of longing and love that you had to keep so far from each other. Strong arms wrapped around you like vines, but you clung to him with your whole body, yearning for his closeness so much.

"Almost four years..." he sighed as he rested his forehead against yours "I counted every day, my love. And every day was unimaginable torture."

Your hand stroked his bearded cheek "I knew you would return. The Gods promised to give you back to me, and here you are. Safe and sound." Your fingers tenderly stroked the scar on his cheek, slipping into his hair interwoven with silver threads "I can't believe you're finally here."

Marcus' hands tightened around your waist "Tell me you're not just a beautiful dream..."

"I'm here, my love." You whispered, tenderly touching his lips "All yours." He pressed his lips to yours as if he had to make sure that you weren't a dream, laughing, you pulled away from him slightly "Marcus, we need to talk, so much has happened..."

"We have the whole next day, our whole lives for this. Please... Let's not talk tonight. I want to love you, adore you, caress your body." He sounded like a man possessed, hungry for your body "I need to remind myself of every curve of your body. I want to taste you and immerse myself in your sweetness. I beg you, my beloved..."

You couldn't refuse him, you didn't want to. The dream of the warmth and closeness of his body had haunted you almost since he left for that cursed war. You couldn't wait any longer.

The heavy door of your chamber closed, and after a moment you were both taking off your robes. Hands craving a familiar touch, lips searching for each other. Hot lips wandered around your neck when you felt the cool sheet under your fingers. Marcus raised himself on his shoulders, his dark as night eyes roaming your body.

"Give me a moment..." he said as you tried to pull him closer to you. "You're more beautiful than I remember you."

You laughed quietly, a little embarrassed by his confession. "I'm definitely older."

"As am I. But to me you'll always be equal to the goddesses."

"Don't say that, Marcus. Don't incur the wrath of the Gods, they can be jealous."

A mocking smile appeared on his face. "I'm not afraid! The earth could open up beneath me and swallow me alive, but I won't stop repeating it. You are a goddess, my love. I dedicate my life to serving you. Only you."

"Then do it. Use your body and all your strength to do it."

You didn't have to repeat it twice. Your lips connected again in a strong and deep kiss. His tongue invaded between your lips, extracting from you those sweet moans that returned to him during sleepless nights. 

His hard cock rested on your thigh, and you felt excitement and fear, it had been so long since you felt him inside but  you wanted him so much.

Marcus' lips slid down to your sternum, then your breast. He kissed it and bit it lightly, despite the time he still remembered everything that made your body tremble. When the nipple disappeared in his mouth you felt your walls tighten slightly, giving you a signal that you couldn't wait any longer. But it was Marcus who dominated you, doing whatever he wanted with your body.

When his long fingers moved over your slippery folds you moaned shamelessly.

"So thirsty..." he whispered, his lips brushing your belly "Let me prepare you first, love. Let me..." two fingers slid inside you with incredible ease, all the way to his knuckles "I've got you."

Your body arched like a string, the stretch felt so good. Marcus pulled his fingers out and after a moment he pushed them back in, watching your reaction with great pleasure.

"If you could see it." he kissed the inside of your thigh tenderly "So hungry, so greedy."

"Harder..." you moaned, grabbing his wrist and trying to take control, but he wouldn't let you.

He grabbed yours with his other hand, quickly brushed it with his lips, and then his fingers started moving faster and harder. You heard that lewd sound that showed how wet you were and how your body reacted to his caresses.

"Give me everything. Cum on my fingers, love." Marcus panted, feeling his hard cock throb at the sight of your body. "Don't torture yourself like that, love. Cum."

And you did. Your thighs clenched as a shiver of pleasure ran through your body, and a sweet moan escaped your throat. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling your head buzzing, but suddenly Marcus took control again. 

His strong arms spread your thighs, and his hard cock slid inside you without warning. You lost your breath. Your eyes rolled back under your eyelids, and when his strong body pinned you to the bed, you knew there was no escape.

"Fuck..." he moaned loudly, dazed by the feeling. "You're so tight, so warm..."

"Marcus... I feel like you're going to tear me apart..." you moaned, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. "Gods!"

"Don't summon them, love." he mumbled quietly, brushing your lips "They'll be jealous of us."

His hand grabbed your leg under the knee and he lifted it slightly, thrusting into you even deeper. You didn't know how on earth it was possible, but his cock seemed to dig into you even more with each thrust. 

His body, his strength intoxicated you. Your beloved transformed under your fingers into a barbarian who came to your bed just to fuck you and use your body as he wished.

You felt another orgasm building inside you and you wanted to tell him that, but in an instant Marcus lifted himself up. Without leaving you he pulled you with him and sat on his heels, you fell onto his thighs, impaling yourself on him even more.

Your arms wrapped around his neck tighter, fingers entangled in his hair as he lifted your body and used it as he wanted to, to get what he came for.

"I'm so close, so close." he breathed into your ear. "I want to feel you again, give it to me. Give it to me!"

As if on command, your body gave in. Your walls trembled and squeezed around his manhood, you clung to him tighter as he now pressed you hard and violently against his cock. But Marcus was close too and soon you felt his body tense up and he poured into you, filling you up with his warm seed.

You were both panting, your bodies still sweaty and hot. His heartbeat mixed with yours and no matter how many breaths you took, it still wasn't enough.

"You're definitely not a dream." he murmured, kissing your shoulder gently.

"How can you be so sure?" you giggled, looking fondly at his blissful face.

"The Gods would have to be incredibly cruel if they let me experience immortality with you and then ordered me to return to mortal life." his fingers tenderly stroked your back "You have to be real." 

You kissed him tenderly feeling indescribable love for this man. At the same time, however, a small flame of anxiety rose in your heart thinking about the upcoming day.

He was torn from his sleep by the quiet sound of the door closing, and then your footsteps on the stone floor. He lazily rubbed his eyelids and opened them, noticing you pouring yourself a glass of water.

"Why did you get dressed?" His voice was hoarse, and it gave you shivers "I didn't say I was done with you."

You smiled, walking over to the bed and sitting on its edge "You were done with me at least three times last night, General." you noticed, leaning down and kissing his soft lips "You should rest your loins."

"I'll rest after death. Right now, I just want to keep my cock between your thighs, where it belongs." he replied "I've been thinking about it for almost four years and I have no intention of giving you up now."

Marcus noticed the smile disappearing from your face, and your gaze wandered to the window open to the garden. He knew that look. Something was worrying you and occupying your mind.

He sat down on the bed, his hand tenderly stroking your arm. "What's wrong, my dear? Something's on your mind."

"Marcus... So much has happened since you left." You said quietly. "I don't even know where to start... It all scares me so much."

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Tell me, because I can see how much you're struggling."

He saw you nervously squeezing your fingers, and your eyes avoiding his gaze. Finally, you stood up and took a few steps. Marcus watched you carefully as he put on his robe, a strange fear growing in his heart. 

What if this was all just a dream? What if you tell him to wake up now?

You were already opening your mouth to say something when a commotion in the hallway and quick footsteps tore your attention away. The door opened wide and a small boy rushed into the room.

"Mommy!" he called, running up to you and wrapping his small arms around your legs. 

Right behind him, a woman in a servant's robe ran in, apologizing from the entrance. "My lady, he wanted to see you so much. I told him you had a guest, but he..."

"Nothing happened, Tullia." You replied, smiling faintly, clearly embarrassed. "Please, take him to the garden." You ran your fingers through the boy's dark, curly hair. "I'll see you in a moment, okay, little bug?"

The boy smiled and grabbed the servant's hand, gave Marcus a quick glance with his brown eyes, and left the room, leaving you in complete silence.

You could clearly feel the tension that had grown between you. You wrapped your arms around yourself, as if you wanted to hide, and looked up at Marcus. Surprise was written on his face. His dark eyebrows furrowed, and his jaw clenched. He stared at the door, and only your voice made him look at you.

"I didn't know how to tell you this..." you whispered "I've been planning this in my head for almost four years, and now I'm standing in front of you and I'm speechless."

"You're a mother." His voice was low, you nodded "All this time I thought you were waiting for me, and you..."

"Marcus, let me explain, please." You wanted to approach him, but he just raised his hand, and you froze.

He swallowed, and his dark eyes were fixed on you like daggers ready to attack "Before I left we promised each other... You promised me that you would wait for me. That you would be faithful to me."

"And I was." You groaned.

"Don't lie to me!" he roared, and you stepped back, scared "For four years I lived only thanks to the thought that you were waiting for me, that you loved me despite everything. And now? You promised me!"

"Let me explain, Marcus." Your eyes stung from the tears that were seeping into your eyelids. "You don't understand..."

He was like a beast locked in a cage. His eyes darkened and his hands clenched into fists. It was the first time he looked at you with such contempt and disappointment, and your heart was breaking with every passing second.

"I thought you were devoted to me. That you committed to waiting for me, if I knew you were just a whore..."

These words were the last straw that broke the camel's back. You suddenly straightened up and raised your head, looking at Marcus defiantly.

"Don't talk to me about commitment, devotion and loyalty when that's what I've been doing for four years." you said sharply, you saw that he opened his mouth, but this time you didn't let him get a word in. "I was pregnant when you left Rome with the army. For many months I hid it from my surroundings, but I still heard the whispers and gossip. I carried him under my heart, gave birth to him and I raised him alone, despite everything. Despite the lack of guarantee that you'll come back. So you have no right to talk to me about commitment and loyalty, or judge me without knowing everything! Julius is your son. You can either accept it or leave." 

Marcus looked as if you had stabbed him at that moment. There was silence and only the laughter coming from the garden tore you out of this freeze. The General approached the door leading to the garden. Between the bushes and flowers he saw the silhouettes of a few boys playing, including the one who called you mother.

"I didn't know..." he said quietly, his eyes following the boy carefully.

"How were you supposed to know?"

"Call him."

"Marcus, please..." you whispered, a cold shiver running down your spine.

He looked at you, but you couldn't read anything on his face. "Call him, please. Or I will." He could see, however, that you were unable to utter a word. "Julius! Come here, boy."

The sounds of fun faded away and after a moment you heard the shuffling of sandals as the boy approached you, dragging a wooden sword behind him. He stopped in front of Marcus, but his frightened gaze went straight to you, afraid that he had done something wrong.

Marcus looked at him carefully, towering over the boy. Finally, he spoke.

"Do you know who I am?"

Julius's eyes went to the man's face. He nodded.

"A general. Mom told me." he said quietly. "A soldier. Like my dad."

You saw Marcus give you a quick look, but he couldn't resist asking another question. "Where's your father, boy?"

"At war. Far away." He looked down and shuffled his shoes. "Mom says he's brave."

"And are you brave?"

You covered your mouth with your hand to hold back a sob as Julius shook his head.

"I'm not. Sometimes I'm scared, so then I go to mom."

Marcus crouched down in front of the boy so that their faces were at the same height. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of the resemblance between them.

"Where did you get that sword?" Marcus continued.

Julius visibly perked up. "Mom gave it to me. To make me brave."

"Will you show it to me?"

The boy handed him his wooden sword and Marcus looked at it. "It's a very good sword." Julius' face lit up with a smile.

He accepted the sword back from the General and you had the impression that he stood more straight and proud. Marcus looked at him for a moment longer, then ruffled his hair asking him to go back to playing.

"I didn't know what to tell him when he started asking about his father." You started quietly as Marcus watched the boy who had already run after his friends. "I didn't know if you'd ever come back... I wanted to believe it, but he needed answers. That's all I could give him."

"He is..."

"Perfect." You finished for him. "He's smart, empathetic, sensitive and not at all as cowardly as he says. He's afraid of storms, so he comes to me at night."

Marcus turned around looking at you with tenderness. You noticed tears in his eyes and after a moment they ran down your cheeks.

"I wanted him to be safe." You sobbed. "I thought that when you came back and saw him... Every day I saw you in his eyes."

Warm hands grabbed your face as Marcus put his forehead to yours. You placed your hands on his, trying to calm your breathing.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered "I beg you, forgive me for doubting you. I didn't expect this. The thought that you could marry someone else, give him children..."

"How could I do that? I gave my heart to you, Marcus. For eternity."

Warm lips brushed yours.

"You gave me a son. You're so brave. Too good for me... I don’t deserve you and him." he whispered "I'm sorry I doubted you, my love."

"Please, don't talk about it anymore. Just get to know him, and you'll surely love him too."

"But will he love me?" doubt sounded in his voice "Julius doesn't know his father."

You tenderly stroked his face, wanting to erase all worries from him.

"Julius knows his father is brave, strong, and that he loved me more than anything in his life. He will welcome you with open arms, Marcus. Just give yourself a chance. Give us all a chance." 

He nodded and snuggled up to you with all his might. When he returned to Rome in glory, his greatest dream was to see you again. And you gave him so much more. You gave him more than the Emperor could.

You gave him life.

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[itneverendshere]

you said i have to trust more freely - r.c series (one)

requested here;

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader. word count: 8.9k

The North Carolina heat simmered under the August sun, but the sprawling campus of the university felt like a different world, far removed from the humid beaches of figure eight. This was a place where social lines blurred, where kooks and pogues no longer carried the same weight, they did back home.

Or at least, that’s what you had hoped.

Of course, Rafe Cameron, had to ruin that for you. When you found out, he’d gotten into the same school as you, you had begged your lucky stars and then some, that he’d stay the hell out of your way. It was one thing to put up with his bullshit back home, it was easy to avoid him since you attended very different high schools. Very different places and crowds.

He was an arrogant, entitled brat, always ready to throw his family’s money around to get what he wanted. But here, on campus, you hoped things would be different. You hoped that the prestige and maturity of university life would somehow keep him away. After all, wasn’t this a fresh start for everyone?

 But now his name was plastered in the same class as you. 

You had never thought you'd find yourself in the same academic sphere as him. As far as you were concerned, he didn’t give a shit about history, let alone the History of Empire, Colonialism and Post-colonialism. His major was…something to do with business, you were sure of it.  It had to be a mistake. Some sort of system error, of course.

The first day of classes, however, quickly ruined any hopes of a peaceful coexistence. As you entered the lecture hall for your course—you saw him. Rafe sat in the middle of the room, slouched back in his chair with that same self-assured stupid smirk that made you want to throw a table at this face. His presence was an unwanted reminder of everything you were trying to escape. 

Labels. Constant violence between clicks.

You took a seat as far from him as possible, near the front where you could focus on the lecture and block out any distractions. 

“Oh, if it isn’t my favorite pogue.”

Your heart sank at the sound of his voice, that familiar sneer cutting through the quiet anticipation that filled the lecture hall. You didn’t even need to turn around to know he was talking to you. But you did.

He leaned back in his chair; arms crossed with an air of superiority that had always grated on you. His voice was just loud enough to catch the attention of a few other students nearby, some of whom glanced your way with mild curiosity. It was the kind of attention you had hoped to avoid, but of course, Rafe had other plans.

“You know, I didn’t think you’d be interested in a class like this,” he continued, his tone dripping with condescension. “I figured you’d stick to something more…fitting.”

He was so infuriating. Didn’t even know the first thing about you or your major.

You clenched your jaw, refusing to let him get a rise out of you. He was baiting you, trying to get under your skin like he always did back home. The smirk on his face told you he was enjoying this far too much.

“It’s a required course, Cameron,” you replied coolly, turning back to face the front of the room. “Not that you’d know anything about what’s fitting for me.”

Rafe chuckled, the sound low and mocking. “Touchy, touchy. Come on, we’re not in high school anymore. We’re all adults here, right? Let’s play nice.”

“Why are you here?”

His smirk widened at your question as if he’d been waiting for you to ask. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, looking entirely too comfortable for someone who had just waltzed into a class that was clearly way out of his depth.

“Had a spare elective to fill,” he said with a shrug as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Thought this class would be easy enough—history and all that. Figured I’d coast through it.”

You couldn’t help it; you laughed. The sound burst out of you, catching Rafe off guard. His smirk faltered for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he wasn’t sure whether to be offended or amused.

“Coast through it?” you repeated, shaking your head in disbelief. “You really have no idea what you’ve signed up for, do you?”

Rafe’s expression shifted, a flash of irritation crossing his face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You turned in your seat to face him fully, a small, satisfied grin playing on your lips. For once, you had the upper hand, and you were going to enjoy it. 

“This isn’t some high school history class. We’re talking about the intricacies of empire-building, the impact of colonialism on societies, and the complexities of post-colonial power dynamics. It’s not exactly lightreading.”

He looked at you skeptically, “So what, it’s a bunch of essays and books? How hard can it be? You’re here.”

So charming it nearly killed you.

You raised an eyebrow at his last comment, letting the subtle insult roll off your back. “Good luck then.”

Rafe’s bravado faltered even more, but he quickly recovered, leaning back in his chair again, “Well, I guess I’ll just have to prove you wrong then, won’t I little pogue?”

You shrugged, turning back to the front of the room as the professor started speaking, but you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. It was almost laughable—Rafe Cameron, who probably hadn’t read a book cover to cover since middle school, thinking he could breeze through a class that was known for being one of the toughest in the department. You almost felt sorry for him.

 Almost.

As the professor launched into a discussion about the British Empire and its influence on global trade, you kept half an ear on the lecture and half on Rafe, curious to see how he would react. At first, he seemed content to doodle in the margins of his notebook, barely paying attention. But as the lecture went on, you noticed him glancing up more often, his brow furrowing slightly as the professor delved into the complexities of colonial economics.

Oh, this was going to be so much fun. Maybe watching Rafe finally struggle at one little thing in life was exactly what you needed.

You couldn’t resist the urge to glance back at him when the professor mentioned the labor-intensive plantation economies in the Caribbean. Rafe was staring at the board now, his expression more… confused? Blue eyes moved along the words as if they didn’t make any sense to him. Maybe this class would be the humbling experience he desperately needed.

When the lecture ended, he was one of the first to stand, shoving his notebook into his bag with a little more force than necessary. You had to bite back a laugh, again.

You took your time gathering your things, waiting for him to make a move or say something, but he just walked out without another word. Ooops. Maybe Big Bad Rafe learned a new lesson. 

The semester rolled on, you and Rafe went back to avoiding each other in class. 

You watched with a certain amount of satisfaction as he struggled through lectures, occasionally catching him furiously scribbling notes or staring blankly at the professor as if the concepts were being explained in a foreign language. It was almost comical to see someone like him so out of his element. Every time he fumbled an answer during a class discussion or looked around for someone to give him a clue, you couldn't help but feel a thrill of vindication. 

Meanwhile, you kept your distance, focusing on your work and trying to understand the complexitiesof university life on your own terms. But as the days passed, it became harder to ignore a different reality setting in—one you hadn’t expected. 

Uni wasn’t so different from home, not to you at least. Despite your hopes, it seemed the lines between kooks and pogues hadn’t entirely disappeared. Sure, the university was supposed to be a place of new beginnings, but you found yourself struggling to fit in.

You weren't exactly the social butterfly, and you could count your friends on one hand. The cliques here were different—subtler than the ones back home, but just as impenetrable. Weekends were the hardest, with endless Instagram stories of parties you weren’t invited to, people forming bonds over experiences you didn’t share. It hurt more than you’d care to admit. 

Maybe you weren’t putting yourself out there enough, but could you really afford to? You were on a full scholarship, and parties were the last thing on your mind—you couldn’t afford to mess this up. Every penny went to essentials like food and books. Fashion and makeup weren’t even on the radar, but in another world, maybe they would’ve been. A girl could dream.

And then there was Nate. 

Dreamy, golden Nate—a junior with a smile that could light up a room. He was so…perfect. You’d been crushing on him since the first day you saw him in the hallway, before your social studies class, but he didn’t even know you existed. He asked you for a pen in class once, and you nearly freaked out. He’d been so polite. Your heart pounded so loud you were sure he could hear it. But after that brief moment, it was like you faded back into the background. He returned the pen with a cute thanks and moved on, like you were just another face in the crowd. It was silly to hold on to that tiny interaction, but you couldn’t help it. 

Boys like Nate never looked at you. You didn’t have the spark they searched for. 

Unfortunately, Rafe still did.

After another particularly grueling lecture, you were packing up your things when you heard that all-too-familiar nasal voice behind you. 

“Enjoying the view from the front of the class?”

You rolled your eyes, refusing to turn around. You’d been having a shit week, fed up with being alone. Your friends from back home had their own life’s now, so talking to them was almost impossible too. 

You were on the brink of an existential crisis.

“I’m surprised you’re still showing up. Thought you’d have dropped by now.”

Rafe didn’t respond immediately, and when he did, his voice had a sharper edge than usual. “Y'know, I might not be the smartest in this stupid class, but at least ‘m not alone all the time.”

That made you pause, your hands stilling over your notebook. You slowly turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He crossed his arms with that same infuriating lazy smirk, but there was something different about it this time—something colder.

“It means I’m having the time of my life watching you struggle, watching you be miserable while everyone else is out having fun. Not invited to any parties, huh? Must suck.”

The fake pity almost made you lose your temper. You hadn’t realized he’d been paying that much attention, hadn’t considered that he’d notice, but of course, he’d put in the work to make a pogue’s life even worse.

The truth in his words stung even more because it was exactly what you’d been feeling, what you’d been trying to ignore. But now, hearing it out loud, from him of all people, made it so much worse.

You clenched your fists, trying to keep your composure, “Not everyone has daddy’s money, some of us have to put in the work. You think I give a shit about stupid parties?”

His left eye twitched in irritation and for a second you thought you had hit it where it hurts, but instead, he chuckled through his nose, “Must be exhausting, trying to prove something to everyone.”

“I don’t know. Is it?” You snapped, unable to hold back any longer, “This isn’t Figure Eight. Leave me the hell alone.”

“Where’s the fun in that, hmm?”

Rafe's smirk widened; his eyes gleaming with that familiar arrogance. He thrived on getting under people's skin, especially someone like you. It was a sick game he played, always pushing, always testing, just to see how much it would take for someone to crack. He was sick.

“You know,” he continued, his tone mockingly thoughtful, “Maybe I should keep an eye on you. Make sure you don’t drown in all this responsibility.”

His words were smooth, almost kind, but the condescension behind them was palpable.

You could feel your blood boiling, but you knew better than to give him the satisfaction of seeing you snap. Rafe was the kind of guy who fed on drama, who would twist any reaction into ammunition against you. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” you asked, your voice cold as ice.

He chuckled, pushing off the desk and taking a step closer. “Oh, come on. Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy our little chats. I’m the only excitement you get around here.”

The nerve of him. The arrogance. What was he getting out of this?

“Sorry to disappoint,” you said, your voice laced with sarcasm, “but I’d rather shoot myself in the face than spend another minute talking to you. Goodbye.”

You left the classroom that day with your heart pounding. You pushed his words aside, focusing on what mattered: your studies, your goals, and making it through each day. 

Weeks passed, and slowly, life at university began to shift. You met two girls in your sociology class—Ava and Harper. They were the kind of girls who seemed to have everything together: effortlessly stylish, confident, and always surrounded by friends. You’d admired them from a distance, never thinking they’d notice someone like you. But one day, after an impromptu group discussion, they invited you to join them for coffee. That was a big day.

Ava was a whirlwind of energy, always laughing, always with a story to tell. Harper was more reserved, but her quiet confidence and sharp wit drew you in. She was hilarious.

To your surprise, they were kind, and over time, the three of you became inseparable. You weren’t alone anymore. For the first time in weeks, you started to feel like you belonged. They didn’t care that you were a pogue, not even knowing what that meant. They liked you for you, and that meant more than anything. 

One Tuesday night, Ava and Harper invited you to a party. It was the kind of party you’d only seen in movies—the fraternity house was practically a mansion, very different from the bonfire parties you were used to back home. You hesitated at first, thinking about your responsibilities. But they insisted, promising it would be fun, and you knew you could use a break. After all, it was just one night.

When you arrived, the music was pounding, lights flashing in time with the beat. People were dancing, and laughing, and the air was filled with the scent of perfume and alcohol. Ava and Harper pulled you into the crowd, introducing you to people you’d never have approached on your own. You were nervous, but they made it easier, always by your side, making sure you felt included.

After a while, you decided to grab a drink, needing a moment to yourself to take it all in. You found the kitchen, which was packed with people mixing drinks, talking loudly over the music. You were pouring yourself a soda when you felt a presence beside you—someone too close for comfort.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” a familiar voice drawled.

Rafe. Because of course, he’d be here, at the very party you’d finally decided to attend. You kept your eyes on your drink, not wanting to engage, but he wasn’t going to let you off that easy.

“What, no comeback?” he teased, leaning against the counter beside you. “That’s not like you.”

You took a deep breath, reminding yourself not to let him get to you. “I’m not in the mood, Cameron.”

He smirked, picking up a beer bottle and taking a swig. “Looks like you’ve upgraded your company. Ava and Harper, huh? Good for you. But I have to ask… how does it feel to be the DUFF?”

You blinked, finally looking up at him with confusion written all over your face. “What the fuck is a DUFF?”

 “Designated Ugly Fat Friend,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Y'know, the one who makes their hotter friends look even better by comparison.”

For a moment, you were stunned into silence, processing the insult. It wasn’t just a casual dig; it was calculated, meant to hit where it hurt most. What the fuck was wrong with him?

“That’s…wow.”

Rafe chuckled, taking a swig of his beer. “Don’t take it so personally. It’s just a fact of life. Every group has a DUFF. Just figured you’d want to know your role.”

You stared at him, disbelief mixing with anger. “You’re seriously messed up, you know that?”

He shrugged, still smiling like this was all a game to him. “Just calling it like I see it.”

Your hand tightened around the cup in your hand. Before you could second-guess yourself, you flung the contents right into his face. The soda splashed across his perfectly styled long hair and down his designer shirt, leaving him momentarily stunned. The smirk vanished, replaced by a look of pure shock as the cold liquid dripped off his chin. The entire kitchen seemed to go silent for a moment as people nearby turned to see what had just happened.

Rafe blinked, his expression shifting from shock to something darker—anger, maybe, or disbelief that you’d actually had the nerve to do that. His jaw clenched, and for a split second, you thought he might actually retaliate.

But before he could say or do anything, you stepped closer, “Go fuck yourself.”

That was your last interaction for weeks.

He kept his distance, barely acknowledging you in class or around campus. It was almost as if the drink you threw in his face had washed away his relentless need to torment you. You couldn’t say you missed his attention, but the silence was unnerving in its own way. Knowing him, he could be brewing something much worse to fuck with your head. 

One afternoon, after a particularly tough class, you were gathering your things when you noticed Rafe hovering near the door. His usual cocky demeanor was gone, replaced by something almost...nervous. He caught your eye and hesitated before approaching as if debating whether to say something or just walk away.

“Hey,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically low.

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the lack of smugness in his tone.

“What do you want?”

He shifted uncomfortably, glancing around to make sure no one was within earshot. “I, uh…I need your help.”

That was the last thing you expected to hear. You stopped packing your bag, staring at him in disbelief. “My help? With what?”

Rafe rubbed the back of his neck, clearly out of his element. “The exam. The one we had last week. I just got my grade back, and…uh, I failed. Hard. I don’t know what happened, but I need to do well in this class, and I’m completely fucked if I don’t turn things around. You seem to know your stuff, so…c-can you help me? I’ll make it worth your while.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the irony of the situation not lost on you. 

“You must be out of your fucking mind,” you said, a hint of sarcasm in your voice. “I don’t want anything from you. Good luck failing.”

He looked almost panicked like he hadn’t expected you to turn him down so quickly. Surely, he knew you hated him with all your strength, right?

“Wait—Wait up! What about Nate Archibald?”

You froze, your mind racing. How the hell did he know about Nate? 

Your crush on the older guy was something you’d kept to yourself, shared only in passing with your girlfriends. But Rafe’s mention of it made your stomach drop.

“What about Archibald?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d rattled you.

He seemed to sense he was onto something, his desperation shifting into a more calculated expression. “Look, I know you like him. It’s not exactly a fucking secret okay? Even if you think it is. He’s a good guy I guess, but he doesn’t know you exist. You help me out, and I’ll help you get his attention. I can introduce you, get you in with his crowd.”

“I don’t like Nate.”

He rolled his eyes, “You were doodling his name on your notebook two weeks ago.”

Your stomach dropped at his words.

Two weeks ago, you had been sitting in the back of the lecture hall, barely paying attention to the professor as your mind drifted to Nate. You’d doodled his name absentmindedly, never imagining someone would notice, let alone remember. You were bored and you’d seen him earlier, arriving to school in his truck. He’d looked so dreamy it was all you thought about. 

“I wasn’t.”

“You were.”

“No?”

“Jesus. It’s a crush, relax.”

“You were spying on me?” you hissed, embarrassment creeping into your voice.

Rafe shook his head, his tone more exasperated than anything. “I wasn’t spying, all right? I just noticed.”

“You’re such a fucking creep.”

Your heart raced, both with anger and with the tiniest snippet of hope. The idea of Nate finally noticing you was tempting, but you hated that it was Rafe offering it to you, as if he could manipulate your feelings just like that. You knew better than to trust him. And yet, he seemed genuinely humbled—at least, as humbled as someone like him could be. He would’ve never asked you for help if the fear of failure wasn’t eating him alive. 

You narrowed your eyes, studying him closely. “Why should I believe you?”

He sighed, hands rubbing his face in frustration, “I just want to pass this stupid class, m’kay? I don’t give a fuck about Archibald, but if that’s what will get you to help me, I’ll do it.”

You hesitated, torn between wanting to tell him to go to hell and the small, persistent voice in your head that wondered if this could actually work in your favor. You’d worked so hard to keep your head down, to stay focused, but the idea of finally having a shot with someone like Nate was hard to ignore.

“You’re gonna make Nate notice a DUFF?”

Rafe's smirk returned, though it was less confident than usual, tinged with something almost vulnerable. “You’ve got potential.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, weighing your options. Part of you wanted to tell him to screw off, to take his offer and shove it up his ass. But the other part—the part that had spent sleepless nights wondering if you’d ever really fit in here, if you’d ever be more than just another face in the crowd—was tempted. Rafe was offering you a way in, a chance to break through the invisible barriers that had kept you on the outside looking in.

“Okay,” you said finally, the word slipping out before you could stop it. “I’ll help you, but don’t think for a second that I’m doing this shit for you. And if you screw me over, I swear, Rafe, I’ll kill you.”

He nodded, his expression serious. “Deal.”

You and Rafe met up in the library for your first "study session."

The awkwardness was palpable. He was slouched in his chair, trying to act indifferent, but you could see the tension in his jaw as he stared at the textbook in front of him. He was flipping through a history textbook with a blank expression, as if the words on the page were written in latin.

"Alright," you began, flipping open your notebook. "Let's start with the basics, because clearly, you’re lost."

Rafe rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. One day they were going to get stuck inside his brain from how much he did it. He grunted in acknowledgment, though his attention didn’t lift from the page. 

You sighed and leaned forward, tapping on the open textbook in front of him, “We’re focusing on the economic factors that contributed to the development of plantation societies. You get that, right?”

He blinked, clearly not getting it. A perfect himbo.

“Okay, fine. The plantations needed a lot of labor. So, what’s the most cost-effective way to get that labor?”

Rafe shrugged. “Slaves?”

“Right, but it’s more complex than that,” you continued, trying to be patient. “The demand for crops like sugar and tobacco skyrocketed in Europe, so they needed cheap labor to maximize profits. That’s where the transatlantic slave trade comes in. It wasn’t just about the labor, it was about the entire economic system that developed around it.”

He nodded slowly, jotting down notes. “So, it’s like… the whole economy was built on this?”

“Exactly,” you said, a bit surprised he was actually paying attention. “And you need to understand how that impacted the societies, both in the Caribbean and in Europe. It’s not just about memorizing facts; it’s about understanding the connections.”

“Okay, I get it,” he muttered, though you could tell he was still struggling. “This shit’s more complicated than I thought.”

“If you don’t understand something, just ask. I’m not going to bite your head off.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he smirked, but there was no malice in his tone this time.

“Anyway. This also reshaped societies on both sides of the Atlantic. The Caribbean, for instance, became a hub of sugar production, with plantations dominating the landscape. These plantations were brutal, with slaves working in horrific conditions. But they were also incredibly profitable, which is why they persisted for so long.”

He seemed to be processing this, his pen tapping rhythmically against the edge of his notebook. “And the people back in Europe…they were cool with this? Just letting it happen?”

His questions sounded like things children would ask but you answered, nonetheless. 

“It’s complicated,” you replied, flipping to a page in your textbook that showed a diagram of the triangular trade routes. “A lot of people in Europe didn’t really see the human cost. They were more concerned with the goods that were flooding their markets—sugar, tobacco, rum. These were luxury items that became everyday staples, and the average person didn’t really think about where they came from or who made them. But there were also abolitionists—people who fought against the slave trade and the conditions on the plantations. The system wasn’t unchallenged, but it was so entrenched in the economy that change was slow.”

Rafe leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “So, it’s all connected. The economy, the trade, the people—it’s all one big mess.”

A big mess is one way to put it simply. But at least he understood something. 

You smiled slightly, glad to see the gears turning in his head. 

“Exactly. And that’s what you need to understand for the weekly quizzes. It’s not just about memorizing dates and names—it’s about understanding the connections between these different factors and how they shaped the world we live in today.”

He nodded slowly, jotting down a few more notes. “Okay, I think I’m starting to get it. But I’m gonna need more help with the specifics—the names, the dates, all that stuff.”

“We can go over that next,” you offered, flipping to another section of the textbook. “But remember, it’s the big picture that matters. If you can understand how all these pieces fit together, the rest will come easier.”

He started improving. He was still far from a stellar student, but he wasn’t failing anymore. In return, he hadn’t forgotten his end of the deal.

One Friday afternoon, after another study session, Rafe leaned back in his chair, watching you pack your bag. “So, there’s this party tomorrow night.”

You looked up, narrowing your eyes. “And?”

“And you’re coming with me,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You scoffed. “Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because you want Nate to notice you, right?” he said, crossing his arms. “Well, nothing makes a guy pay attention like seeing a girl with another guy. Especially one like me.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “You’re seriously suggesting we…what, pretend to be together?”

The thought almost made you gag. 

Rafe shrugged, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “Not exactly. Just, you know, make it look like we’re close. Guys love a little competition. Trust me, it’ll work.”

You hesitated, unsure. The idea of pretending to be close to Rafe, even for show, made your skin crawl. But the idea of finally getting Nate to notice you…that was tempting.

“And what exactly do you get out of this?” you asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

Rafe’s grin widened. “The satisfaction of a job well done. And maybe a little fun. You know you need to loosen up.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. But this better work.”

“It will,” Rafe said confidently. “Now, what are you planning on wearing?”

You frowned. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

Rafe stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Come on, then. We’re going shopping.”

You blinked, surprised. “What? No way. I can’t afford—”

“Relax,” he interrupted, already walking toward the door. “I’ve got it covered.”

You found yourself standing in a high-end boutique, completely out of your element. Rafe was rifling through racks of clothes, pulling out items and tossing them to you with a casual confidence that made you wonder just how often he did this.

“This,” he said, handing you a sleek black dress that was far more daring than anything you’d ever worn.

You looked at it skeptically. “I’m not sure that’s…me.”

“It’s not supposed to be you,” Rafe said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re shorts and tank tops. This is supposed to be the girl Nate notices. Now go try it on.”

Reluctantly, you took the dress and headed to the dressing room. When you stepped out, Rafe’s eyes swept over you, and for the first time, you saw something almost like approval in his gaze.

“That’ll do,” he said, nodding. “But you need heels. And maybe some jewelry.”

This was so fucking weird it gave you chills. 

You stared at him, bewildered. “Since when are you an expert in women’s fashion?”

Rafe smirked. “I have two sisters. You pick things up.”

The next thing you knew, you were trying on shoes, adding accessories, and letting Rafe play stylist until he was satisfied. When you finally looked in the mirror, you hardly recognized yourself. The girl staring back at you was confident, poised, and yes, attractive. It was a version of yourself you’d never seen before.

“See?” Rafe said, appearing behind you in the mirror. “Told you I’d make this work.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

“You know what I meant.”

The party was in full swing when you arrived with Rafe. The music was loud, the lights dim, and the air filled with the buzz of chatter and laughter. You felt so nervous you felt like throwing up, clutching the small purse you’d brought with you like it was a lifeline. You could feel eyes on you, who were undoubtedly curious about the new girl in Rafe’s orbit.

Rafe, on the other hand, looked completely at ease, immediately falling into his element, greeting people with confidence and casual charm. He guided you through the crowd with a hand on the small of your back, leaning in close to whisper in your ear. “You look good, okay? All you have to do is enjoy yourself.”

You must’ve hit your head. Rafe Cameron was complimenting you. 

You took a deep breath, trying to follow his advice. You spotted Ava and Harper across the room, waving you over, but he stopped you before you could head their way. 

“Not yet,” he said, nodding toward the bar where Nate was standing with a group of friends. “Go talk to him.”

“Rafe—“

“Don’t whine.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding. “What do I even say?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Rafe replied smoothly. “Just be yourself. Well actually, maybe not.”

“Ouch.”

“Don’t forget—he needs to see that you’re with me. Let him come to you.”

You nodded, nerves jangling as you made your way toward the bar. Nate glanced up as you approached, and for a split second, his eyes widened in recognition. Does he remember you? Oh wow. You’d spoken to him twice by now, this being your third. 

“Hey,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Mind if I grab a drink?”

“Sure,” Nate said, smiling as he moved aside. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“Last minute thing,” you replied, reaching for a cup. “Rafe dragged me along.”

Nate’s smile faltered slightly at the mention of Rafe, his eyes flicking over to where Rafe was leaning against the wall, watching the two of you with a casual, almost possessive air.

“Rafe, huh?” 

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile. “He’s not so bad, once you get to know him.”

Nate looked at you, really looked at you, for what felt like the first time. “You look…different tonight. In a good way.”

Your heart skipped a beat, warmth flooding your cheeks. “Thanks.”

Before the conversation could continue, to your dismay, Rafe appeared at your side, draping an arm around your shoulders, “Everything okay here?”

Nate’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he nodded. “Yeah, we’re good.”

“Cool,” Rafe said, giving Nate a pointed look. “Come on, let’s dance.”

Without waiting for a response, he led you away, leaving Nate watching after you, a contemplative expression on his face.

“What the hell?” you hissed, trying to pull away from his grip, but he held you firm, guiding you toward the makeshift dance floor.

“Relax,” he said, his voice low and smooth, as he spun you around to face him, “Trust me, it’s working. Did you see the way he was looking at you?”

You glared at him, your irritation simmering just beneath the surface.

“You didn’t have to drag me away like that.”

He shrugged, unfazed. “Had to keep him on his toes. Assholes like Archibald need to feel a little competition to make them realize what they could lose.”

“He’s not an asshole.”

“Sure.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died on your lips as the music shifted to a slower beat, and his hand slid down to the small of your back, pulling you closer. You stiffened, but he kept his grip light, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Relax,” he repeated, his voice softer this time, almost…gentle. “Just go with it. You’re doing great.”

Your breath hitched, caught off guard by the sudden change in his demeanor. You hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected him to be…well, not a complete asshole. 

“Watch the hands.”

He only dropped them lower.

“Or what?”

Your pulse quickened as Rafe's hands settled lower on your back, grazing the curve of your hips. His smirk was infuriating, but there was something beneath it—a challenge, a spark that dared you to react.

“Or I’ll step on your foot,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes.

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, as if he found your threat amusing. “You’d really ruin those expensive heels I bought you?”

You glanced down at the sleek stilettos, a reluctant grin tugging at the corner of your mouth. “You deserve it.”

“I probably do,” Rafe admitted, his voice taking on a more serious tone. His gaze locked onto yours again, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the room faded away. 

The music, the people, even Nate—everything melted into the background until it was just the two of you. It felt weird. The way he looked at you was unsettling, like he was peeling back the layers you’d so carefully put up, seeing parts of you that you hadn’t intended to show him—or anyone.

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your body was reacting to his proximity, to the warmth of his hands against your skin. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

You were here for Nate.

But Rafe wasn’t making it easy. He leaned in closer, his breath brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Ass face is looking.”

His lips were so close to you that you could feel the warmth of his lips. The scent of his cologne, a heady mix of cedar and something uniquely him, enveloped you, making it hard to focus.

"Stop calling him that," you whispered back, attempting to inject some irritation into your tone, but it came out softer than intended.

He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Just calling it like I see it," he retorted, his fingers pressing lightly against the small of your back, guiding you even closer.

Well, fuck. 

"Is this really part of the plan?" you managed to ask, your voice barely audible over the music.

He smirked, his eyes never wavering. "Absolutely. Just giving the audience a good show."

"Audience?" You arched an eyebrow, momentarily confused.

He tilted his head subtly in Nate's direction. You followed his gaze to find Archibald staring. It was a look you'd never seen directed at you before.

"See? It's working," Rafe whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear again. He had to be doing that shit on purpose, to get a rise out of you—it all felt too real, too intimate.

"You're enjoying this," you accused.

He grinned, unabashed. "Maybe a little. Aren't you?"

You were about to fire back a sharp retort, something to cut through the tension that had been building between you and Rafe, when you heard someone call your name. You turned your head, your heart still racing from how close Rafe was, only to see Ava and Harper pushing through the crowd toward you.

"Hey! We've been looking everywhere for you!" Ava exclaimed, her eyes flicking between you and Rafe, curiosity sparking in her. You never told them about him.

Harper raised an eyebrow, a sly expression spreading across her face. "And what do we have here? You two look cozy."

You stepped back quickly, putting some space between you and Rafe, feeling suddenly exposed. "Just... dancing," you said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Rafe, of course, didn’t miss a beat. He slipped his hands into his pockets, the picture of casual confidence. "Yeah, just giving her a little dance lesson. She’s a fast learner."

Ava glanced at you, suspicion plastered across her pretty face, “Uh-huh. Well, you ready to go? We were thinking of hitting up another party across town."

You hesitated, glancing at Rafe, who gave you a small nod, as if to say it was up to you. The moment between the two of you had been so intense, so confusing, that you almost forgot the entire reason you were there. Nate. You were supposed to be getting his attention, not getting caught up in whatever strange thing was happening with Rafe.

But now that your friends were here, the spell was broken. You felt more like yourself again, more grounded. "Yeah, let’s go," you said, finally pulling your eyes away from Rafe, “You’re not coming?”

“Nah. Have fun, I’ll see you on Monday, little pogue.”

As you walked away with Ava and Harper, you could feel his eyes on your back, and it took everything in you not to turn around. You weren’t sure what to make of it, or if you even wanted to. It was like you’d glimpsed a different side of him, one that wasn’t entirely awful. One that was strangely attractive. Maybe his ridiculous plan was working. But whether that was a good thing or not, you weren’t sure.

Sure enough, another study session came around. The old tension between you two had settled into a strange kind of truce. It was more of a mutual agreement to tolerate each other for the sake of passing the course. Plus, despite everything, he was strangely good company when he wasn't being a complete ass.

Tonight was one of those rare moments when he wasn’t trying to get under your skin. The conversation had started out innocent enough—debating historical facts, making fun of the professor’s monotone voice—but then, somehow, it drifted towards relationships. Or more accurately, Nate.

“So, you gonna ask him out or what?” Rafe’s tone was casual, but his eyes were sharp as they flicked over to you.

You glanced at him, trying to gauge if he was genuinely interested or just trying to pry into your personal life for another round of teasing.

“Ask who out?”

“Nate. Mr. Perfect.” His smirk was playful, but there was an edge to it.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not asking anyone out.”

“Why not?” He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, clearly settling in for this conversation. “He’s obviously into you. You’re into him. What’s the problem?”

You looked away, focusing on the textbook in front of you, but the words blurred as your mind wandered. The truth was, you didn’t know how to answer that. You’d never been good with boys, especially not ones like Nate. Ones that seemed so far out of your league. 

“Just…not my thing,” you mumbled, hoping that would be enough to drop the subject.

But Rafe wasn’t one to let things go. “Not your thing? Or…you’ve never actually done it before?”

The casual tone of his question made your stomach flip. You looked at him sharply, searching his face for any sign that he was joking.

“Done what?”

“Kissed someone.” The words were out of his mouth before you could even process them, and your heart skipped a beat. 

You knew you should deny it, brush it off with a joke, but the way he was looking at you, so intently, made it impossible to lie. Silence stretched between you, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head as realization dawned. 

“No way. You’ve never…?”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, embarrassment flooding through you. “It’s not a big deal, okay? Can we drop it?”

But he was looking at you like you’d just told him the earth was flat.

“You’ve never kissed anyone?” He sounded incredulous, like he couldn’t believe it was even possible.

“Seriously, shut up,” you snapped, but it only made him smile harder.

He shook his head, still looking at you like you were some kind of anomaly. “How the hell did you get through high school without—”

“Rafe!”

“Okay, okay, m'sorry!” He held up his hands in mock surrender, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes that made you nervous. “But seriously, you’ve never kissed anyone? Not even a peck?”

“No,” you admitted, crossing your arms defensively. “And I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

He was quiet for a moment, and you could feel his gaze on you, intense and considering. Finally, he leaned forward, his expression more serious than you’d ever seen it. “Alright then. I’ll teach you.”

Your jaw dropped, and you stared at him like he’d lost his mind.

“What?”

“I’ll teach you,” he repeated, like it was the most logical thing in the world. “Better to learn from someone who knows what they’re doing, right?”

You blinked, trying to wrap your head around what he was suggesting. “Are you out of your fucking mind? There’s no way I’m letting you—”

“Why not?” He was leaning in closer now, that stupid cocky smirk back on his face. “I promise I won’t bite.”

You could feel your pulse quicken, nerves fluttering in your stomach. This was Rafe Cameron, the guy who had made your life hell for years, and now he was offering to…what? Teach you how to kiss? It was absurd. Ridiculous. And yet, there was something in his eyes, something that almost made you say yes.

“No,” you finally said, shaking your head. “This is insane.”

He shrugged, leaning back again, but you could tell he wasn’t giving up. “Just think about it. No pressure.”

You wanted to argue, to tell him he was crazy, but the truth was, part of you was curious. Curious about what it would be like. Curious about why he was offering in the first place. But that was a thought for another time. For now, you needed to focus on getting through this study session without letting him distract you any further.

Easier said than done.

You tried to shake off the bizarre turn the conversation had taken, focusing back on the textbook in front of you, but the words on the page refused to stick. You could feel his stupid blue eyes on you, his presence more distracting than ever.

“Come on, don’t make it weird,” he said after a moment, his tone light but his gaze still fixed on you. “I was just fucking with you.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, relieved that he was backing off. “Good. Because that was the weirdest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He chuckled, the tension easing just a little. “Weird, maybe. But not the worst idea.”

“Rafe,” you warned, but there was no real bite in your voice. He had a way of disarming you, breaking through your defenses in a way that no one else could. It was annoying.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” he said, holding up his hands again. But there was still a playful glint in his eyes, like he was enjoying this far too much.

You tried to focus on the study guide, pointing out a key term that you both needed to memorize, but your mind kept drifting back to what he’d said. The idea of him teaching you how to kiss was ridiculous—completely absurd—but there was a tiny, traitorous part of you that wondered what it would be like.

“You’re thinking about it,” Rafe said suddenly, his voice breaking through your thoughts.

“No, I’m not!” You replied a little too quickly, your cheeks burning. He grinned, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

“Yes, you are. I can see it on your face.”

You glared at him, hoping to shut him up with a look, but he just laughed, the sound low and teasing. “You know, if you’re curious, there’s no harm in trying it.”

You shook your head, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m not curious, and I’m definitely not going to let you—”

Before you could finish your sentence, he leaned in, closing the distance between you in a way that made your breath catch. He didn’t kiss you, but he was close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your lips, the intensity of his eyes making your heart race.

“You sure about that?” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with a challenge.

You swallowed hard, your mind screaming at you to push him away, but your body refused to move. There was something magnetic about him, something that made it impossible to look away, to even think about anything else.

“I…” you started, but the words died in your throat as he leaned in just a fraction closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Just one lesson,” he whispered, his lips hovering just above yours. “Then we can pretend it never happened.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, a thousand thoughts racing through your mind, but none of them made sense. All you could think about was how close he was, how badly you wanted to know what it would feel like to close that final distance.

But then, as if a switch flipped in your brain, reality crashed down on you. This was Rafe Cameron. The guy who had tormented you, who was probably doing this just to mess with you. You couldn’t let yourself fall into his trap.

“No,” you said, finally finding your voice and pushing him back gently. “This is crazy.”

He didn’t move at first, his eyes searching yours for a moment longer before he finally leaned back, giving you space to breathe again. “Fair enough,” he said, his tone still light, but there was something in his expression that you couldn’t quite read. “But if you change your mind…”

“I won’t,” you said quickly, needing to put some distance between you and the tension that was still thick in the air. “Let’s just get back to studying.”

He gave you a long look, like he was deciding whether to push the issue, but then he just shrugged and turned back to his notes. 

“Whatever you say.”

You nodded, trying to focus on the study guide in front of you, but your mind was still reeling. You couldn’t believe what had just happened, couldn’t believe that you had actually considered letting Rafe teach you how to kiss. It was insane. 

Completely and utterly insane.

The rest of the study session passed in a blur, the usual banter between you and Rafe feeling a bit more strained, a bit more loaded than before. You were hyper-aware of every move he made, every glance he threw your way, but thankfully, he seemed to have dropped the subject for now.

But as you packed up your things to leave, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you. You couldn’t tell if it was for better or worse, but one thing was certain—you were never going to look at Rafe Cameron the same way again.

The following days were a strange dance of avoidance and unspoken tension. Lots of it. You and Rafe still studied together, but there was an unspoken agreement not to mention what had happened. It was as if you were both trying to pretend that nothing had changed, even though you both knew it had.

It didn’t help that every time you were around him, you couldn’t stop thinking about that moment—the way he’d leaned in, the way his breath had felt against your lips. How soft they looked. It was infuriating, the way your mind kept circling back to it, refusing to let it go. You were better than this. 

“Hey,” he greeted, sitting down next to you without his usual swagger. “You okay?”

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated before answering. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

He shrugged, looking out at the entrance of the classroom for a moment before turning back to you. “I don’t know. You’ve just been kind of…quiet lately.”

You looked at him, searching his face for any hint of teasing, but he seemed genuine. “Just had a lot on my mind.”

Rafe nodded, as if he understood, and for a moment, the two of you sat in a surprisingly comfortable silence. It was strange, this version of him—so different from the one who had taunted you about kissing just days ago.

Finally, he broke the silence. “Y’know, I wasn’t trying to mess with you the other day. I mean, I was, but not…not in a bad way.”

You raised an eyebrow, not sure where he was going with this. “Rafe, I know you like to mess with people. It’s kind of your thing.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “I guess I just didn’t want you to think I was trying to make fun of you or anything. I just thought…you deserved better.”

That caught you completely off guard. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, looking uncharacteristically serious. “I mean, you deserve to experience that stuff with someone who actually gives a shit about you. Not with some random guy at a party or something. I guess I didn’t like the idea of you feeling…left out.”

Was he…implying that you two were friends now? That he cared?

You stared at him, not sure what to say. This was a side of Rafe you’d never seen before—vulnerable, even a little protective. It was jarring, but not in a bad way.

“Thanks,” you said softly, not quite sure how to respond. “That's weirdly nice of you to say.”

He smiled, and for the first time in a long time, it didn’t have that usual hint of arrogance. “Don’t get used to it,” he teased lightly, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

Just then, the rest of your classmates showed up, breaking the moment. 

Rafe stood up, his usual confident demeanor slipping back into place as he greeted his friends. But as you watched him joke around with the others, you couldn’t help but feel like you’d just seen a glimpse of the real Rafe—someone who cared, even if he didn’t always show it.

And you found yourself liking this version of him. 

A lot.

More than you should.

[grillthegridmydear]

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 　The Good Witch　:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

pairing. F1 Grid x Leclerc!reader, Ollie Bearman x Leclerc!reader

summary ~ The baby of the Leclerc family experiences the worst heartbreak of her life while living in London, so she writes an album.

faceclaim ~ Maisie Peters

notes ~ This album has been my roman empire since it dropped and I am making it everyone else's problem now. My school level french is no use to me here so please pardon any terrible translations.

yourusername

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, arthur_leclerc and 12 621 others.

yourusername London I love you, you'd have to drag me away kicking and screaming <3

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arthur_leclerc still cant believe you moved out before I did

yourusername cry about it I guess

user1 begging for the next ep drop on my hands and knees

charles_leclerc would it kill you to come home every once and a while?

yourusername voir maman ou Lorenzo? non. Pour te voir TOI ? oui, oui, ce serait le cas. (to see mom or Lorenzo, no. To see YOU? yes, yes it would) liked by lorenzotl

alexandrasaintmleux gorgeous as usual ❤️

yourusername Je t'aime belle fille ❤️❤️❤️ (love you beautiful girl)

yourusername Let me know when you finally get rid of my idiot brother, I wanna get a custom cake

charles_leclerc QU'EST-CE QUE J'AI FAIT ??? (WHAT DID I DO?)

yourbfusername my london girl ❤️

loved by yourusername

yourbff girl you're never allowed to leave you have witnessed too much that involves tequila

yourusername blackmail for life

user4 baby leclerc literally eating up the streets

user5 i need to see her in paddock again soon ITS BEEN TOO LONG

302studio

gridgossip

gridgossip singer-songwriter y/n leclerc has blacked out all her social media pages and made them private, this comes following the abrupt news that the ferrari drivers sister cancelled the rest of her european tour dates. sources say that she has blocked her long time boyfriend yourbfusername. could the couple's split be the reason for the radio silence?

liked by user11 and 320 612 others.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

f1gossip

f1gossip Heartbreak for baby Leclerc as photos of her long time boyfriend yourbfusername were released earlier this week outside of a popular london nightclub kissing another girl. y/n was spotted leaving Nice Côte d'Azur Airport with her brother Charles Leclerc late last night. The 21 year old pop star seemingly escaping her ex boyfriend and guitarist to return to Monaco.

view all comments!

user10 ok this is why we dont give men rights cause WTF

user11 poor y/n, i cant believe it

user12 not what i was expecting

user13 THIS MANS DAYS ARE NUMBERD

loved by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 864 others.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

It took 3 days to finally pull myself out of the pit of my childhood room. The sun bleeding through the crevices of the blinds screaming to be opened for some fresh air. coming back to Monaco felt like defeat but I knew that staying in London would kill me, plus the hushed whispers coming from downstairs reminded me that this was the best thing I could do, my brothers were dramatic enough without deciding to go on strike from racing until I finally agreed to come back.

Small snuffles under the door broke the serene atmosphere in the air, followed by tiny nails scratching to get in. finally pulling myself out from under the covers I cracked open my door enough to let a tiny four legged blonde into my cave, Leo weaved his way between my legs, herding me closer to the door. his persistence finally made me scoop him into my arms and make my way downstairs.

The already whispered conversation died as I took the last few steps into the living room. Four heads turned on a swivel to see me enter the living room. Maman sitting on the sofa with Arthur and Alex, Charles sitting at the piano in the corner of the room. "Bébé ? tu veux manger quelque chose ? nous étions sur le point de préparer le déjeuner." (baby? do you want to eat something? we were about to make some lunch.)

the idea of food made my stomach lurch, I skipped dinner last night in favour of crying into my sheets. Heartbreak had always seemed so stupid when I was young. How could girls spend all their energy loving someone who hurt them? I owe all those girls an apology. I could only nod as I set Leo down on the floor, he trotted over to Alex and with my arms free from the wriggling pup I sat down on the piano stool next to my brother. the guilt over cancelling my tour had been eating my alive for the last week, so many people would be so disappointed. I hadn't even entertained the idea of opening my phone since I landed, but Arthur had reassured me through the door that people were just worried about me, whether I was ok?

I had no idea if I was.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, alex_albon and 101 892 others.

yourusername drastic healing measures activated. thank you all for being so patient with me, here's a little treat. Blonde is streaming now!

view all comments!

maxverstappen1 funeral anthem

yourusername nurse! he's out again!!

user16 no cause max is so real for this, this man has a bounty on his head

alex_albon lily hasnt stopped playing it since it dropped. neither has logan.

yourusername i knew you were my number one fan logansargeant

logansargeant its going platinum in my house

user15 AHHHH THE GRID IN THE COMMENTS!

user16 i love their friendships so much

lilymhe WHAT A GORGEOUS GORGEOUS GIRL

yourusername wifey 💍💍💍

alex_albon today is not the day and i am not the one 🤺🤺🤺

alexandrasaintmleux face card is never denied!

loved by yourusername

user27 oscar in the likes 👀👀👀

user21 girl EVERYONE is in the likes

oscarpiastri where was this energy for cates brother?

yourusername tbf Hattie ATE in her cover so its not my song anymore

arthur_leclerc i think maman is still weeping that you went that light with the bleach

charles_leclerc

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, arthur_leclerc and 13 253 others.

charles_leclerc I remember the day you were born and you cried so much we couldn't hear ourselves think. you demanded to be heard and since that day you have had music in your soul. it has been an honour and a privilege to watch you grow into the woman you are today. happy birthday ange, thanks for letting your big brother watch you make an album.

view all comments!

user21 ALBUM!?! SAY SIKE RN

user22 part time driver, full time stan

user23 can we blame him though?

user24 happy birthday!!! now back to the ALBUM ANNOUNCEMENT!!

user25 EVERYBODY STAY CALM

user26 not charles leaking the album announcement 😂😂

yourusername thanks cha! DID YOU JUST LEAK MY ALBUM!

yourusername

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc and 468 648 others.

yourusername ok since SOMEBODY couldn't keep a secret for 3 seconds 😠 my father always taught me that boys weren't worth the energy and to hit them back twice as hard. so here I am papa, making you proud.

The Good Witch is now streaming on all platforms!

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carlossainz55 spoken like royalty princesa, congratulations!

yourusername gracias chilli !

charles_leclerc je t’aime ange, sorry again.

yourusername i might forgive you

landonorris album of the year i'm afraid

yourusername how tragic 😱

oscarpiastri y/n please Hattie wont stop playing it, im begging you take the album back

yourusername you are the worst piastri

user 15 eating this up

user36 GIRL THIS WAS AN ATTACK! WENDY!!! NO BODY TALK TO ME!

user39 this may go down in history as the cuntiest slay of all time

user40 OH SHIT, HE LOST THE BREAKUP

loved by olliebearman

user40 ARIANNA? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE??

yourusername

liked by landonorris, olliebearman and 792 721 others.

yourusername are you gonna feel the way I feel? are you for real?

comments are limited on this post

olliebearman

liked by georgerussell63, arthur_leclerc and 87 621 others.

olliebearman this is in fact a john hughes movie and the girl does in fact get the guy ❤❤

tagged yourusername

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

Hey yall! just something a little short and sweet to get back into the swing of things.

i do want to eventually do a series based on this album for the grid cause i am obsessed.

let me know what you think

-A

[crystallakec]

HI CRIS....cried a little while drawing this and cried a little more while reading your tags. thank you for leaving these it means so so much to me and I wanted to talk about him a little more😭

even if I want to believe, it's already too late.

[trashmouth-richie]

vitiosus + deliciosus [vicious + delicious🥀] || pt 2 of dulcis ut rosa

emperor geta x reader || things progress for geta + his little gnat || 4k

18+ smut, oral: female receiving, choking, slapping, biting, spanking

pt 1: dulcis ut rosa m🥀 || pt 1 ½: dulex🥀

pt iii frangere me 🥀 || 🥀 pt iv: as caelum vel infernum, tecum sum

You didn’t know what was to come of you after tonight’s rendezvous in Geta’s chambers. You could hardly sleep, your body sore in places you didn’t think were possible, but not in a discomforting way.

The pain was more of an ache, a pulsating want for the time spent in his bed. You daydreamed of his strong hands pressing bruises into your hips, of his mouth hot and wet all over your skin, the bitter tang of your own blood on his lips as he licked the bites better. 

Geta was a force to be reckoned with. Dominating both outside and inside of his chambers. All of Rome feared him. A flutter filled your stomach at the mere thought of those dark eyes seamlessly devouring you when you worked up enough courage to look into them. No, you wouldn’t sleep at all tonight. 

—

Caracalla carried on the next day pretending the previous night hadn’t happened. As if his miniscule brain shut out what he had done, carrying on with the daily run of nonsense. He smiled like a gleeful infant who had just discovered his toes at the first meal of the day. Gnawing on ripened fruit and leftover pork, he looked like a wild animal. 

As if he had vanished with the night, Geta was nowhere to be seen. 

During prandium, you asked a woman from your village as casually as you could manage if she had seen the missing Emperor. 

Prisca turned up her nose at your question, questioning why you so desperately needed to know. Replying with a tone that matched her own, you very carefully articulated how Caracalla had asked you to find out. Ending the conversation with a clipped lip, reminding Prisca of your status to the Emperors, and hers with the lowest of soldiers ones missing limbs and their gift of sight. 

Geta didn’t show for any of the day's events, giving Caracalla a taste of running the empire solo, a smear of greed on his protruding crooked nose. You were the only one to notice his absence and if the entire palace didn’t seem to take note, you’d act the same. Deciding to leave it alone, remembering the virtue in patience, you’d wait until tonight to catch his eyes in yours once again. 

The sun seemed to taunt you all day with its beautiful rays, staying longer than it had the day before, never quite ready to go to sleep. The shimmering heat laughing at your dismay as you waited for the moon's powdery face to finally clock in for her shift. 

You could hardly stand being in Caracalla’s arms as he held you close to him, his breath stinking of an ungodly amount of wine, making you promise that you would never leave Palatine Hill. Pleading that you’d stay with him forever until his dying day. Agreeing like a dutiful servant, you hoped and prayed that that day would come sooner than later. 

—

Geta couldn’t pull himself out of bed the next day. Palace servants came and went, offering to move the drapes, karting in mountainous plates of food, but he had refused everything. Only barking orders to bring as much wine as they could carry. 

Drowning himself in rivers of wine, he couldn’t remember a single time since infancy that he felt completely worthless. He was an Emperor for fucks sake. Others may succumb to feelings but not him, never him. 

Maidens fell at his feet, begging for his attention. He called the shots, fucked them stupid then tossed them away like scraps. Not once had he let any of them get to a place inside of himself he couldn’t pinpoint. 

He couldn’t get away from you. Your scent surrounded him, the jasmine perfume of your hair lingered on his sheets. A subtle hint of sugary sweet honey was still on his skin. He hated himself. 

Loathed the love sick pup he had become in the twilight hours as he gazed at the ceiling, still tasting your core on his lips, his rings sticky and coated with it. Unwilling to remove them in fear that the tiny bit that belonged to you, created by him, would wipe away. 

His hair was still askew in the same fashion you had rung it around your fingers. Cock hard again remembering the way your body felt in his hands, how that sweet little cunt gripped him tighter than anyone before. 

The sheets blushed a crimson that neither of you had noticed that broke from your body. He smirked at the thought of his brother unable to make an untouched woman bleed. Clearly he was less than endowed, his size comparable to that of a dangling beetle.

Geta laid in the stains from the two of you, a complete and utter mess of a man unable to forget the sweet little gnat. No longer buzzing in his ear, but pulling at his mind, suffocating every other thought. The gnat wormed her way down into the cavity of his chest, laying against the pinky ventricles cozying up to the dying organ, coaxing it back to life. 

“Cupid’s fool,” he spoke aloud then, as if he confirmed it to nobody but himself, “body and soul.” A small smirk on his lips as his feet swung from his bed heading to the bathing room to wash himself before the moon peaked in the onyx painted sky, and he met you in that corner corridor. 

—

You traced the stones down the hall as you walked until the pads of your finger went numb. After not seeing or hearing from Geta all day, you questioned your sanity as you approached your typical spot as you always did night after night for months. Would he even show?

Caracalla was exceptionally gleeful this evening, an odd thing considering most of the time he cried like an infant throwing tantrums like a toddler. 

Your heart raced at the possibility of seeing Geta. You’d never taken into account how handsome he was, and now without seeing him for a full day, you found yourself almost missing catching glimpses of him. 

He had two looks that he offered to everyone else. Either sheer and utter boredom, fiddling with his rings in a lazy fashion— or his eyes narrowed into slits, nostrils flared and a twitch kissing the corner of his eyelid, that permanent scowl rising on his top lip. 

When he entered a room, he demanded attention in just his body language, shoulders square and broad, chin held high and his jaw tight. Generals rose for him, servants leapt out of the way to avoid him until needed. He was a brute of the highest power.

But in the months of meeting him in the darkness, you had gotten to know how Geta operated. What made him tick, the fatigue wearing on his face after stressful days. The crease between his brows when you told him of Caracalla’s movements—studying, brooding. 

It gave you a sense of power knowing that you were seeked out by him. Even if only for information and a wet mouth, you could feel it emanating from him to you when he came. It started roughly. But lately it was almost as if it could be intimate at times. And you weren’t sure what that meant. Either way— with Geta, you knew you were safe. 

Darkness enveloped you on your blind approach to the infamous corridor. For a second, you thought possibly you were lost, somehow turned around until you heard a throat clear, and the handsome Emperor appeared before you, having been blocking the open window from view. 

“Emperor, my apologies for keeping you waiting,” your lips fumbling as you bowed before him at the waist. 

A chuckle rumbled from Geta, “you aren’t late, I am simply early,” he said, scratching at his chin, “I’ve been roaming around since the light left.” 

“Oh?” 

He simply nodded then, twirling a ruby ring around his finger, “…I have received word that Caracalla is becoming more and more delusional. He has increased his staff, begging our mother to supply a general outside of his door while he sleeps— you’ve probably noticed Acacius following him, yes?” 

The ruggedly handsome salt and pepper haired soldier flanked the aforementioned Emperor all day, but you never gave it another thought— your mind busy on Geta’s whereabouts. 

“I haven’t trusted my brother since we were young boys using sticks as swords, and the older he gets the more his brain stays in our childhood.” He spoke softly then, “it is only a matter of time before your movements after leaving his chambers are tracked… and I can’t have that. This will be our last meeting.” 

You nearly shouted in his face, telling him that these nights were the only thing worth being stolen away from your village. Months you have done this and now it is gone because he was… worried? About Caracalla finding out?

Geta pushed off from the wall, standing with his usual confidence—his jaw tight, a strange look on his face. “What Caracalla does not know— is that Acacius has been loyal to me for years, and has been providing me with information about him for nearly as long.” 

Your eyebrows crease as you try to unravel the thread he’s woven, and a small smile ticks at the corner of his lips as realization spreads across your face. Mischievous Geta, always a step ahead. 

“Join me?” 

—

Geta was approached by Acacius when leaving his chambers this evening. 

“Emperor,” Acacius announced, bowing his head in honor, “I’m sorry to disturb you so late.” 

Geta pulled his chamber door shut waving his hand in dismissal, “nonsense General, whatever it is it must be important for you to seek me out, what is it?” 

“This is not easy for me to say.. I feel like a traitor to you. to these walls—”

“Out with it,” Geta pressed, irritated.

“It’s Emperor Caracalla… your excellency, I have been summoned to be posted outside his quarters and provide security for him during the daylight hours.”

Geta rubbed at his chin, a twitch in his eye, “I know you’re not one to joke on a serious matter Acacius, however this seems quite juvenile, even for my brother.” 

“I assure you, he has been increasingly suspicious over the last few months, ever since that travel wagon arrived with the Virgines from Valleventus.” 

Acacius gave Geta a knowing look, one to convey that he knew what happened in these walls at night once Caracalla’s whore left his chambers. 

Geta smiled then, unable to hide it, his face relaxing as he clapped the General on the shoulder, “you are a great confidant, Acacius— I will take this into great consideration.” 

—

The two of you strolled the corridors in silence, his knuckles grazing yours, your heart pumping wildly in your chest. You were certain that if the two of you were caught you’d be killed on sight, tossed in a deep grave without a second thought. But with Geta… you couldn’t find yourself to care about any of that. Did he?

You knew you were walking a thin line, and it got thinner the more time you spent with him. But if he was willing to walk it as well, you’d risk it… same as he was 

After a few minutes, you broke the silence, “may I…ask you something?” 

Geta tilted his head towards you, “yes.” 

All day he had been gone, and your curiosity finally got the better of you. “Where were you?”

He smirks and your insides melt, “were you looking for me, little dulex?” 

You turn away from his gaze, fumbling with a loose thread on your tolsa, “n-no. Caracalla had asked me.” 

A laugh bubbles from his chest, “I am not fond of being lied to, try again.” 

Sweat drips from your hairline, “He…well, he inquired about it...” 

“Ah, so you were only wondering about my whereabouts when Caracalla finally noticed I was missing?” 

“Yes.” 

He stopped before a large set of doors and pushed them open revealing a large room, suffocated by darkness. You felt him leave your side to cross the room, and suddenly it illuminated by a candle he had lit. Gently tipping the flame into a massive candelabra, each wick of the candle igniting like a little orb, throwing shadows across the room. 

It was one of the many rooms you’d never seen before.  

A single staircase wove upwards with great iron detailing to a room above, a desk as large as a wagon was centered in the room, pictures of faces you didn’t recognize flanked the walls, the floors were spread of  mosaic tiles: shaped and colored to resemble a salmon colored sunset. An open area let in a small breeze that trickled out into a luscious garden where a fountain could be heard bubbling, brought in by the wind. Luxurious armchairs were tucked into corners. 

This room shared the same color of draperies as a room you’ve only been to once before. The dark hues set a mood that belonged to one singular man. This was a private area that even the highest generals weren’t even allowed in. Geta’s study. 

He came back towards you, grasping your wrist, his thumb pressing into your beating pulse, his eyes lit like a roaring fire, “last chance, to be honest, were you the one looking for me?” 

Hesitating with your breath caught in your throat, you peered into Geta’s seemingly soulless eyes, whispering, “yes,” as a heat rose on your cheeks. 

A smirk pulls on his lip, and a dimple you’ve never seen appears, “oh, my puella dulcis,” he purred, shaking his head, those dark eyes hungry as he looked you up and down, “you’re in trouble.”

He pulled you to him, his large hands on your waist leading you further into the room as he walked backwards. “Do you know the pure agony you’ve put me through?” 

“Me?” 

Geta nods, pushing the straps of your tolsa away from your shoulders, admiring the marks he had left on your skin. 

“Yes. You.” he says, rubbing the column of your throat with his thumb. “It is nefarious the hold you have over me. I’ve never felt anything like it. Death would be easier on me. A sword between my ribs to puncture my lungs, the festering boils from a plague, an arrow through my eye— anything and everything would be better than what you do to me.” 

His hand clasps tight around your neck, the gasp you let out trapped in your throat. 

“So, what am I to do with you? What am I to do with someone who keeps causing me this much trouble? Who risks herself being caught by seeking me out? Who is, dare I say, worried about my well-being?”

He slides his hand up and down the length of your neck, his other stroking your cheek resting his thumb on the crease of your lips. 

“I punish my soldiers for much less, and as any great warrior, I shall be fair by keeping all of my subjects to the highest of standards, you unfortunately, are not exempt.”

One minute you’re standing in front of him the next you’re being yanked by your wrist as he stomps towards one of the large chaise lounges, he sits abruptly and pulls you into his lap. He’s hard, the feel of his erection making you whine pathetically. 

He holds you by your hips and twists you around, until your face is level with the ground, your ass resting over his knees. 

The sound of unbinding thread pops in your ears as Geta rips your tolsa away from you, leaving you bare, your ass on display like a holiday feast. 

“I’ve never gazed upon an ass as round and fat as yours, and believe me when I say this my puella dulcis, I will thoroughly enjoy watching it burn in scarlet as it bounces beneath my hand.” 

You don’t have a second to comprehend his words before a large ringed hand is slapped hard across your backside, causing you to shriek in surprise and pain. 

“Fuck,” Geta spit, “we’ve barely just begun, you should be pissing with glee that I don’t keep my horse whip in my study.” Two more licks rip out and you moan. 

He laughs wickedly, his sultry voice shushing you as he rubs his hand over the globe of your ass. “Enjoying this are you? I’ve heard stories from soldiers and even my own father about the whores during their time, how they begged, fucking pleaded to be hit on the ass by a man.” 

Geta slaps his hand down hard more and more until you’d lost count. That same scorching feeling in your lower belly and the wetness between your legs just like last night came back, and you moaned. 

Humming between your lips, you relished in the ache in your back as you tried to hold yourself up. Trying to wiggle forward so maybe his hand would slip and miss your ass but touch down where you needed him most. 

But you didn’t need to ask, Geta laughed through his nose before slipping his thumb through your wet cunt, groaning at the heat of your arousal on his fingers again. 

“What a tight fucking cunt you have,” he grunted before rubbing your clit, “ filtjy girl—looks like those legends were true, weren’t they?” 

“Please,” you begged, trying to swallow his fingers with your dripping pussy. 

Your small pleads tore through him, his cock answering with a twitch as it leaked. He brought you up your throat, holding you in place and moving your hips along the stiff ridge of his length. 

Geta sunk his teeth into your bare shoulder as you moaned, “can you feel what you do to me?” he whispered, “the torture you put me through, the hours I spend like this with nothing but you trapped in my head. It’s murderous.” 

Purring his name he groans, licking sweat from your neck. “I haven’t had a single hour since the first night we met without having this happening without needing to release myself. Do you think I can be a leader to my people with such indecency? As if I’m a young boy discovering his own body and the feel of his hand again. You’re a snake, filled with poisonous venom to come here and kill me.” 

He rips your clothes completely off, wiggling his middle finger against your clit, praising the gods at the angel like whine that whispers from your lips. 

“… and like the gnat, the snake has bit me, feasting upon my flesh, constantly hungry. But it is I who is left hungry by your tormenting ways,” he whispers in your ear, licking the shell of it, “and right now, I’m starving.” 

Geta hoists you up in his arms, kissing your neck and squeezing your skin wherever he can reach as he walks to the enormous desk full of scrolls. With one mighty hand holding you, he swipes the desk clean, tossing everything that was once organized onto the floor. 

He lays you down on the wooden top, your bare back riddling with goosebumps from the cool hard surface. Looking up at him this was the first you’ve seen his face since first entering his study. 

His eyes were black, wide and wild, the candle light throwing shadows onto his face making him look monstrous. Like a creature straight from the dark world, one from a story told to children at night to scare them enough to not leave their beds. 

Anyone else would run at the sight of such a man. Scream and claw their way from him, but not you. You simply opened your knees wider, showing the dripping wetness to him, what he did to you. 

Geta simply watched. Watched and breathed heavily like a predator before leaping to attack his prey. He stared as you sucked a finger into your mouth, he almost flatlined as you brought that spit soaked finger down the length of your body, your nipples pebbling. 

He swore he met death when you slipped that glorious finger into your cunt, and gently pumped it in and out. 

“This,” you murmured weakly, unable to contain your moans, “is what you do to me.” 

He groaned, practically drooling at you laid out before him. You tipped your head back as a small gasp rippled through you. Lifting your shoulders from the desk you looked him in the eyes, “I guess we are both demented, enjoying the torture from eachother.” 

“I didn’t want to admit it,” Geta blurted, his dark eyes piercing the night, scaring away the shadows. “All day I wrestled with it, how you could make me quiver like a lovesick boy. I turned away meals, laying in the darkness, surrounded by your bewitching scent.” 

 “If you’re so hungry,” you whisper seductively, opening your legs wider, your arousal shining in the candlelight as you remove your fingers from inside of yourself, “then by all means, eat.” 

Geta didn’t wait another second before pulling you forward by the crook of knees, your welted red ass skirting across the desk. You giggled as he feverishly lowered himself and held your thighs wide, “keep these open for me.” 

His tongue was like an eel. 

Geta flicked his tongue at a dangerous pace against your clit, groaning into your sex as you whined his name again and again. His licked and sucked your cunt as ravenous as a truly starved man, his moans vibrating your walls, sending your nerve endings into a liquid fired frenzy. 

You’d never experienced anyone’s tongue between your legs, but this was better than anything you’d ever imagined, nothing compared to the way your body electrified beneath his hands, his mouth. 

Geta’s nose rubbed against your clit as he lapped up your arousal. The burn in your belly seared and unraveled as you screamed out his name, your body rigid and then uncoiling as your muscles spasmed and quaked. 

Your hands wrapped in a death grip in his hair, holding him tight to your pussy as you came, Geta encouraging you through the pleasure. 

“Fuck, look at you,” he said, admiring the way you leaked and dripped on his desk, “taste so fucking good, this cunt belongs to me,” he breathed. 

It was lust and vicious desire emanating from him as he spoke. and you melted at the desperate way you craved him. Grabbing him by the nape of his neck you pressed your lips to his, tasting your arousal on his tongue, you felt drunk 

He hauled your weak body up in his arms, murmuring something about wobbly legs. Geta kissed your forehead as he climbed the spiral steps that lead straight into his chambers. His bed was made, but the smell of sex was still lingering from the night before. 

Geta laid you down on his massive bed, careful of the marks on your backside from his hand. You watched as he undressed, his arms showing protruding veins like a river in the fallen snow. A deep scar you didn’t recognize before on his torso, identical to the one on his neck. His eyes seemed to look softer, a deep honey simmering, catching the light. 

When he spoke it wasn’t with malice it was with truth, “you are mine. Understand? Not Caracalla’s, not anyone else’s, I will slaughter any man who challenges that.”

Your heart races as you stare at him, rising to your knees in front of him, “promise?” 

“Meus amor,” Geta speaks, holding your chin with his finger, “that is my veritas, I give you my word.” 

You stroked his hair as you pulled him down to the bed on top of you. Pressing his curls back into an unruly position, you admire the handsome Emperor. Your Emperor. 

Pressing your lips to his, you pull him deeper, swirling your tongue with his in a frenzied tango. His hips respond to your open legs and his cock slides in with ease, fitting like a sword in a sheath. 

“You are a wicked one, my dulcis.” Geta pants in your ear as his hips pick up a butchering rhythm. Your combined breathing is ragged, choked and gasping. 

Biting his ear he hisses, but you lick it better, the same as he did to you last night, only a drop of his blood on your tongue as you whisper, “then we are one in the same, destinatum ease, destined to be.” 

With that he flips you both over, guiding your hips up and down, forward and back as helps you ride his cock. When you both cum it’s loud, skin slapping skin, your arousal pooling around his cock, his fucked deep inside of you. 

Laying in the sweaty, sin stained sheets, you twirl a finger in Geta’s hair, his head laying on your bare chest between your tits, his hand holding your ribs. “Tomorrow I will have the servants change the sheets while I bathe you in my private pool.” 

“Is my Geta turning sweet?” you tease, “what will Rome think?”

Turning his head those ravenous eyes were painted in the midnight onyx that they usually were, returning with mischief laced in the irises, a devilish smirk on his lips. 

He moved like a serpent, biting your right nipple between his teeth and tugging, causing you to squeal in a pleasured pain that is snuffed out by his large hand around your throat. 

“Do not be fooled pretty girl,” the villainous flames flickered again in his eyes, a feral twitch on his lips that made you wet between your legs, “malevolence coats my veins thicker than blood.”

—

latin translation:

vitiosus + deliciosus — vicious + delicious

prandium— lunch

puella dulcis— sweet girl

meus amor— my love

veritas— truth

destinatum ease— destined to be

☻ taglist: @joejoequinnquinn @fallout-girl219 @hellfireadmin @all-will-be-well-love @anythinggoesemily

@eddiesguitarskills @prestinalove @palomahasenteredthechat @wiltinglovers @razzeith

@workingwndrz @probablyin-bed @songforeddiemunson @avobabe87 @creative1writings

@liminalpebble @screaming-blue-bagel @spookyquinnbie @thewondernanazombie

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

The Emperor's Soft Spot

Pairing: Emperor Geta x Maid! reader

Warnings : Fluff

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The grandeur of the Roman palace was overwhelming to most, with its marble columns stretching toward the heavens and gilded mosaics adorning every corner. Yet for you, the splendor had long since dulled. Day after day, your life revolved around quiet servitude—polishing brass, sweeping floors, arranging flowers. You were just another cog in the great machine of the Roman Empire.

But all of that changed on a crisp morning in the early spring.

The air was filled with the faint scent of jasmine as you placed the last of the roses in a vase perched on a side table in the Emperor’s private chambers. You had heard stories of the young Emperor Geta—his ruthlessness in court, his sharp wit in battle. But to you, he was a distant figure, one you had no reason to encounter. Until now.

As you adjusted the vase, the heavy oak door creaked open. Startled, you froze, your heart leaping into your throat. You turned to see him—a tall, imposing man dressed in the deep crimson and gold of imperial garb. His dark hair was neatly combed, and his sharp, piercing eyes locked onto yours.

You dropped into a hurried curtsy, the vase forgotten. “Forgive me, Caesar. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze fixed on you as though studying a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. Finally, his lips quirked into a small smile. “Intrude? You are precisely where you’re meant to be.”

Your cheeks burned under his scrutiny, and you ducked your head. “I was only finishing my task, my lord.”

“And what is your name, little dove?” His voice was softer now, almost curious.

“Y/N,” you answered, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Y/N,” he repeated, as though testing the weight of it on his tongue. His smile grew. “I’ll remember that.”

---

Weeks Later

The encounter should have been forgotten—a fleeting moment in the endless expanse of your days. But Geta seemed determined to ensure it wasn’t.

It began with subtle glances in the hallways, his eyes lingering on you a second too long. Then came the questions, casually slipped into conversations with the head steward. “How is Y/N finding her duties?” or “Ensure Y/N is assigned lighter work today.” The servants began to notice, their whispers following you like shadows.

One afternoon, as you scrubbed the steps of the western courtyard, a shadow fell over you. You looked up to see him standing there, dressed in simpler robes than usual but no less commanding.

“Caesar,” you stammered, quickly rising to your feet.

“Geta,” he corrected, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Must I remind you again?”

“I couldn’t possibly address you so informally,” you replied, your hands twisting nervously in your apron.

“Then you must,” he said, stepping closer. “For it is my wish.”

You swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. His proximity was overwhelming, his presence like the sun—impossible to ignore. “As you wish, Geta,” you said at last, the name foreign yet strangely natural on your tongue.

His smirk softened into a genuine smile. “Better.”

---

The garden was your sanctuary, a rare place of peace in a world that rarely offered any. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in shades of gold and crimson, you knelt among the herbs, carefully plucking sprigs of basil and thyme for the evening meal.

You were so lost in your work that you didn’t notice him until his shadow stretched across your path. Startled, you turned to find Geta standing there, his arms crossed and an amused expression on his face.

“Do you always work so diligently?” he asked, his tone teasing.

“My duties require it,” you replied, rising to your feet and brushing dirt from your skirts. “Why are you here, Caesar?”

His smile faltered, and for a moment, you saw something vulnerable in his eyes. “Because I tire of being ‘Caesar.’” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “In your presence, I am simply a man. Do you understand?”

You didn’t. Not fully. But you nodded anyway, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I find myself thinking of you more often than I should,” he continued, his gaze never leaving yours. “Your kindness, your grace—it is a rare thing in this palace.”

“Geta,” you breathed, his name feeling both intimate and forbidden. “This... this isn’t right.”

“Perhaps not,” he admitted, his hand reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. “But I care not for what is right. I care for what feels true. And this”—his fingers lingered against your cheek—“feels true.”

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both commanding and tender. The world seemed to tilt on its axis, the weight of the empire momentarily forgotten.

---

The palace buzzed with whispers of the maid who had captured the Emperor’s heart. Some were scandalized, others intrigued. But Geta paid them no mind. He openly courted you, defying tradition and expectation with every stolen moment you shared.

Late at night, in the privacy of his chambers, he would recount tales of his childhood—of the weight of the crown he had never wanted, of battles fought and victories that felt hollow. And in return, you showed him the beauty of a world beyond marble walls and golden thrones.

“You have given me something no one else could,” he said one evening, his voice soft as he held you close.

“And what is that?” you asked, your head resting against his chest.

“Freedom,” he replied, pressing a kiss to your hair. “Freedom to be myself.”

Though the road ahead was uncertain, you knew one thing for certain: you had claimed the heart of the Emperor of Rome, and in doing so, he had claimed yours in return.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[venussaidso]

𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥, 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫-𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐭.

Kathryn Merteuil from Cruel Intentions is portrayed by Ketu natives. Sarah Michelle Gellar, Amy Adams, and now Sarah Catherine Hook.

Characters that I randomly thought would be Kathryn Merteuil's daughters, just so happen to be played by Ketuvians; particularly known for having manipulative, cunning, power-driven personalities.

This relentless pursuit for power and control extends to other Ketu characters. I have explored this theme already in my Ketu Dominant Themes post, I just didn't use female characters as my examples.

Cersei Lannister is an extreme version of this archetype, set in this non-modern, brutal world in Game of Thrones, known for her psychopathy.

Being extremely ruthless and cunning, with a thirst for power and control and an unchecked ambition, it doesn't come as a surprise that she is portrayed by a fire sign native Lena Headey (Venus nakshatras share these themes, as well).

Reminded me of Cate Blanchett's character from Cinderella, Lady Tremaine, who has a desire for control and maintaining power. She is absolutely heartless and cruel.

The same actress also played Hela who driven by power, is absolutely cunning and even more ruthless, possessing this superiority complex.

Having this deep desire to dominate and conquer, it comes as no surprise that the actress has an Aries stellium; proving it true that the rashi comes first, as the signs alone can be known for these negative, power-seeking traits. These fiery traits in the Ketu section are specifically exaggerated. The Ketu rulership seems to not only exaggerate the traits of the fire rashis, but darken them too. Technically; Ashwini is Dark!Aries, Magha is basically Dark!Leo and Mula is just Dark!Sagittarius lmaoo.

Just shortly describing Hela's Ashwini traits, I thought of Azula, who is voiced by Magha Sun Grey DeLisle.

Having a fiery determination and borderline exaggerated Leo traits; much like Hela, she is obsessed with being domineering. Known for being cunning, extremely ruthless and driven by power and control.

Another Hela-type character is the formidable antagonist, Artemisia, played by double Ketu native Eva Green in 300: Rise of an Empire.

Similar to Azula, she is driven by vengeance and is relentless about it. She is extremely strategic and power-hungry, seeking dominance over others and causing destruction.

Both Magha ASC Eva Green and Magha Moon Katie McGrath played the character Morgana, though with different arcs.

Eva Green's version of the character is more overtly power-driven and manipulative, as she has a double whammy effect of the Ketu nakshatras. While Katie McGrath's portrayal is her journey to villainy as she grows a thirst for vengeance and power, becoming a formidable force in the series.

Madison Montgomery from AHS: Coven! Played by Mula native Emma Roberts, she is undeniably ruthless and chaotic.

She seeks power & status in the witch world, being cunning, mean-spirited and manipulative.

In the same season, AHS: Coven, we also have the ruthless and powerful, vengeful witch Marie Laveau played by Magha Sun Angela Bassett. She means to assert her place in the world, embodying LEGACY (Magha nakshatra nod, much like Azula who strongly represents legacy and her ancestors).

And alongside her is Ashwini native Jessica Lange playing Fiona Goode, another ruthless, cunning Ketuvian/Fire sign character obsessed with power, youth and maintaining superiority over others.

Speaking of power-hungry witches; Ashwini Moon native Kathryn Hahn plays Agatha Harkness, who has a lust for power and control, finding herself completely fixated on Scarlet Witch's powers and wanting to gain control over such an immense force to master it within herself.

Magha Moon Helena Bonham Carter played the Queen of Hearts in Alice in Wonderland, the character having a very fiery temper and an obsession with control. The Leo characteristics being exaggerated by the nodal rulership, she has an oversized ego and an extreme sense of self-importance, ready to inflict punishment on those who slight her.

A far lighter, less sinister, version of this Ketu archetype, is the Evil Queen in Mirror Mirror, played by Magha Moon Julia Roberts.

She still fits this highly manipulative, power-hungry archetype, her motivations rooted in status and control over the kingdom.

These characters thriving on power and control speaks to the emptiness and wounds they hold within. People who naturally possess power do not seek it, yet it seems to be a theme for these Ketuvians to be hungry for it. As if there's a beast inside of them that wants to suck things in and conquer, which makes sense for the Ketu x Jupiter polarity as Jupiter has excess to give out and Ketu wants to possess it (as I've talked about Ketu constantly absorbing things & people intentionally or not). The more cunning portrayals show how these characters live through their domineering force, deliberately using it to pull things under their control; ready to combat any outside forces that mean to take away their status and things that signify power to them. This combativeness is specifically shown in Ashwini Moon Blair Waldolf who becomes very combative when threatened. I believe people forget that Ketu alone is different from Ketu nakshatras. The fire signs will always remind you that they're fire signs, that's why observations like "Ketu nakshatra people have zero ambition and only seek spirituality and they represent nothing" is a completely one-sided statement and a disregard to how the houses and signs ruling these nakshatras operate. If this observation were the case, then I wonder what the Ketu gold-digging archetype implies if not everything I talked about.

[richardsgraysons]

speak of her over my grave (and watch how she brings me back to life)

Make no mistake; Jason Todd will crawl back to you with blood frothing in his mouth, beaten and bruised. He will crawl back to you like a stray dog who has learned the touch of kindness from a gentle hand.

He crawls back to you like a stray dog, like something worth loving. He crawls back to you with hope in those violent eyes of his because when he runs rampant every night in that cold air, all he dreams of is you.

These hands are stained with violenceㅡhow can you love them?

It’s not impossible if it’s you. If it’s you, I will.

I will cross a thousand rivers for you; and I have. I will fight a thousand men to keep you safe; and I have. I will defend you to my dying breath; and I have.

He does not regret going to that warehouse instead of you. He does not regret that ‘J’ carved in your face for you. 

Because he knows that when you thought he had left you permanently, you wrecked havoc on the world. You screamed for a thousand men, you screamed when no one else did. Clambering his weary bones out of that green pit was worth it.

As he lays in the bed, holding you in his arms, he looks down. His green eyes, once forest green, now violent neon, stare youㅡhis beloved, his reason for living.

You contain eons in the quiet way you slumber. You bring down empires with your soft nestlings. And when he holds you, he feels warm again. No longer does the cruelty of the green embrace him. All he feels is warmth.

When he holds you in this bed, you crawl inside his rotten heart where you nestle between the stains. He holds you a little tighter and it his way of beggingㅡlove me there, where I am most ruined. Haunt me in the places where there is no light.

Jason knows he doesn’t deserve such kindness.

When he closes his eyes and all he can see and hear is the Joker, when any noise and sound reminds him of that damned warehouse in the Middle Eastㅡwhen his arms tighten you so hard that you cannot breathe, you accept him for the man who he is.

There are places where his heart darkens. He goes beyond the edge of the earth. He goes where you cannot follow yet you pick up your pace anyways.

You go where he goes.

That is the way it’s always been.

He holds you a little tighter because he knows of the pains of this world. He experiences them daily. Every night, when he adorns that hood and wears those weapons, he stares death in the eye again.

And he comes home and his sins are cleansed by your smile.

You who holds the sun; you who bring him back to life every morning.

[aphroditelovesu]

Hello! I was thinking, would you ever write for yandere emperor Augustus? If yes, could you write a love letter from yandere emperor Augustus to his wife as she waits for him back in Rome? Thx so much! I hope you're okay and remember to drink water!

My dear wife,

As I place my pen on the papyrus, I feel the distance between us like a shadow, a burden that only the warmth of your touch can dispel. But even separated from you, my heart is intertwined with yours as if I had never left your side. Every moment away from Rome is torture, but thinking of you softens even the most arduous of my duties.

(Y/N), you are the light that guides my steps, the reason why I long for each new day. With every sigh of the wind, I imagine that it is your whisper calling my name. I feel your presence in everything around me: in the rays of the sun that reflect the brightness of your eyes, in the fragrance of the flowers that remind me of the softness of your skin.

You know, my love, that everything I do is for you and for our beloved home. Every achievement, every sacrifice, has as its only reward the promise of meeting you again, of feeling your tight embrace and your soft lips that bring peace to my tired heart.

I am here, guiding the destiny of Rome, but my soul is tied to you. I dream of the moment when my eyes will meet yours again, when I will be able to rest my head on your lap and forget, for a brief moment, the weight of the responsibility I carry. My love, you are my refuge, my safe harbor amidst the storms of power.

I ask you to await my return with the patience that only you, my beloved, possess. That you take care of yourself as if you were taking care of the very heart of this emperor who is only a man when he is in your arms. That you know that my longing is as immense as my love, and that there is nothing in this vast empire that I desire more than to be with you again.

With all my love and longing,

Augustus.

[aevyndzn]

I miss them a lot, listening to “we’ll never change” and “shadow in the sun” reminds me of Victor and Eli every time. My Roman Empire I fear, I think about them too much.

[canisalbus]

I love your art! It reminds me of tarot cards a bit. It's very beautiful. I think Machete would be Death, the Hermit, or the Moon. Vasco would be the Empire, the Sun, or the King of Cups or Pentacles. I could also see them being pictured together on the Lovers or the Tower.

Illustrating a tarot deck has been one of my dream projects for, like, at least a decade now. But it would be a massive undertaking, the major arcana alone would be 22 pieces.

Personally, I tend to see Vasco in the Sun, Strength, the Wheel of Fortune and the suit of Cups.

And Machete in the Hierophant, the Chariot, the Moon and the suit of Swords.

I agree, both of them are the Lovers and the Tower.

[yaseraphine]

2024, the year I lost my crown.

Pluto in aquarius / Sun / Ego / Leo stellium / Ego death / Karma

I will say it loudly and proudly : In 2024, I entered my flop era (and it set me free)

This post will sum up the major lessons I learned this year through the prism of astrology.

INTRODUCTION - This post is a post I was looking forward to sharing for a while. 2024 seemed to have been a crazy year for a lot of people. Mine could be summed up by “emotional release” or the release of a karmic emotional cycle as well as connecting with my inner child. This year was charged with deep epiphanies about my childhood, which I realized I romanticized and erased key moments from my memory. Realizations came in waves always accompanied with the identification of intense deep seated insecurities and fears that stemmed from my childhood and the way I was nurtured. All of those intense and hidden emotions bubbling up to the surface together made this year really emotionnally charged with negative emotions. This eventually unwillingly forced me to neglect superficial aspects of life, such as appearance and charisma. I was slow, insecure, tired all the time, felt like sh*t all the time, lost drive. You could say that, basically, in chronically online terms, In 2024, I just entered my flop era.

This made me realize the extent of our society's obsession with glowing up, being the best version of ourselves at all times, pushing ourselves out of our comfort zone. Entering our so-called “bad bitch” era, focusing on self-care, being the best, having people admiring us, standing out, being that b, making people do a double take on us,etc... Most of our life is spent relentlessly  trying to be unique, appearing at the top of our game. We always aspire and desire to appear and seem , but we never just are. 

Capitalism has its ways of trapping us into a vicious cycle of superficial constant change and improvement. Like it creates new problems to solve for the mere goal of selling a new product to us, it creates a weird transactional and selfish sense of self, where we almost aspire to be alienated from the community and stand out. 

I decided to share this post as a reminder, in the sea of “how to glow up in 2025” videos and posts, that, sometimes, divine timing has its ways and it prevents us from shining the way we want to. Not every year is a year to glow up, you cannot be at the top of your game all the time. Like during the reign of a Queen or King, your empire will have an apogee, but also a decline. Your power and influence over your empire will always fluctuate, and you will only get probably one period of apogee, followed by a pretty intense empire decline. Despite going through all of this, something will always remain and that is faith. The faith you have in yourself, in the future, maybe even in God or a Higher Power. The faith that is deep inside yourself and that guides and helps you to push through even if you’re at your lowest.

This issue behind this obsession with “glowing up”, and all the external validation that comes with it and avoiding “flopping” at all costs, is what led me to go insane and completely give up this year.

Start of college : a beautifully humbling experience

-> from the top grader to a “mid” grader, an average student

-> highly political place 

-> Politicians and rulers : ruled by Leo BUT political parties, independent parties, ideology : ruled by Aquarius

-> I started to not only take interest in my own endeavors but also the country’s / humanity’s condition

-> I attended riots and protests multiple times, even during exams seasons

-> I assisted to GM’s hosted by students there to protect students’ rights but also for Gaza (GMs = General Meetings)

-> I read books about feminism, learned about communism and just politics in general

-> Unlearned a lot of myths surrounding the working class, rape culture, cultural appropriation, ..

-> Made new friends quite different from the ones I had in High school > anarchists, feminists, really woke people.

Why did all those changes occur ? 

SR Chart of the year 2023-24 : North Node in the 11th  house > letting go of ego and individuality to embrace community

Lilith in the 9th house transit : with all this new knowledge, I literally felt like my brain was being rewired. All the old thought patterns and life limiting beliefs I have been clinging to all chattered, bits per bits. Of course, I started that shadow work way before I got that Transit HOWEVER this transit did boost the process of getting rid of those limiting beliefs.

Gemini rising > my 7th house sign, my shadow, was my rising that year. I have to say the year prior to this year prepared me REALLY well to deal with it since, that year, I became friends and hung out with a bunch of people with gemini stelliums (i genuinely don't know how I survived tbh)

North node return -> events that pushed me to get out of my comfort zone

Chiron in the 9th house transit : my natural ability and talent to think abstractly got tested by this transit. The more theory I learned, the foggier my mind got. I kind of felt like the more times passed, the dumber I got. Which, I know, sounds crazy. But my comfort zone of having philosophical thoughts, disconnecting from my direct environment, this sagittarian hyper-independence (and ego..) became uncomfortable to embody and I felt a sense of loss every time I was ought to have abstract ideas and see the bigger picture. My natural intellectual talents “decreased” and I had no choice but to ask for help and interact with other students to understand certain concepts (so becoming the student even though it’s not comfortable to me). Along with my North node return in the 3rd house (my natal placement), this pushed me to trust other people’s knowledge and experience and learn from them. To show up daily, interact with people from all walks of life and not think to myself before doing so that “there is no point anyway to talk to them it’s useless/ a waste of time / we’re too different” or whatever bullshit excuses my ego would create to prevent myself from socialising

"Let them eat cake"

My obsessive desire to be perfect and to handle everything by myself got too far. I wanted to look my best every single day, but, by the second semester I just couldn't keep up. My timetable was heavier, my classes less interesting and even harder. But, what truly pushed me, or more so forced me to change, was my final exams results of the first semester. In high school, I did not have to study much to excel. To be a top grader, better than everyone else was easy for me, it was a routine. I was never surprised by my grades because I knew I topped as usual. However, going with this mentality/ belief for those exams was what slapped me right back to reality. My grades were bad. When I saw them, my heart shrinked, I was completely shocked. I did not expect much to be fair, but I thought it was going to be okay. Oh boy, it clearly WASN’T. And what made it worse was the people around me, who did not seem to take school as seriously, who consistently skipped classes, who cheated and lied for homework. These people, these people that I consistently judged as immoral, those people that I despised so much , THOSE, they got better grades than me. This made me go CRAZY. I cried for days on end, I couldn’t go to classes because of how badly I felt. This was the final straw for me : what is the point of being such a straight, invested person who came to classes even when I was sick, who always looked clean and hydrated. A perfect student with a perfect attitude. An independent student who helped her classmates. A perfect student who gets exploited by a system where cheaters and liars pass just as well, if not better, and get complimented as much. I realized how much pent up rage I had inside of me. I wasn’t just sad or disappointed, I was deeply disgusted. 

Leo stellium, Sun in Cancer conjunct Saturn, Pluto and Chiron in the first house and 9th house south node : unrealistic standards, lack mindset, low self-confidence, strong ego , scared of being bad at something, of being the worst, self-loathing, “there is no point in doing that anyway” , “i am not like them anyway there’s no need for me to go to this event” : 

As someone with a Leo stellium, I never realized how strict I was to myself. Only people around me could see it, but, because of how headstrong I am, I thought they just didn’t have enough standards. The thing is, I couldn’t see how perfect a lot of things in my life were because I was only fixated on what I lacked. I only focused on the defaults, the problems, the parts I wasn’t good enough in. And even the vocal and direct feedback of people wasn’t enough for me to believe I was just fine, maybe even great. And while I always focused on the parts I have failed in, I also had this unrealistic expectation that I needed to have a neutral, linear emotional life. In my head, it was like : I had a period/ period of emotional disturbances now I cannot have one again, or at least not as intense. It’s simply impossible. Now I used all my “jokers”, cards , I have no choice but to only go higher. This strange way of thinking was what made me only put positive/confident songs on my spotify playlists and avoid any songs that expressed “negative” emotions, outside of anger and rebellion. You could say it's a good thing in a way because I did my best to lift my head up. I knew how music affected my mood so I adapted my playlists accordingly. The thing is, whenever I was feeling anything other than confidence or anger, I did everything in my power to dismiss it. I obsessed over avoiding feeling low because in that state, no one will like me. People will see me in a vulnerable state and it’s too embarrassing. People have to admire me, compliment me, heck just like me at least. But if I’m not on top of my game, they will realize I am like them. I am part of the “plebs”. I have to be a queen, a princess, not a goddamn peasant! (really harsh wording, I know, but it felt like that looking back). I can’t. I just can’t. ... Unfortunately, trying to desesperately keep up with my reponsabilities as a Queen, not caring much for people as they were mere peasants who had nothing to do with me, is what led me right into my empire's decline.. Up in my fragile papermade castle, seating on my throne, I truly always felt so lonely...

The last straw  : getting rid of the lion’s mane

I shaved my head. Crazy but I did. By myself. A monday afternoon, 3 days before halloween. Right in the middle of the sinister season of the Scorpio : I shaved my head. I shaved my long, luscious and golden curly hair. This mane that held all those limiting beliefs and toxic standards. My hair was my signature look, one of the first things people noticed about me. One of the first things people complimented me about. “Look at those beautiful curly hair ! I wish I had hair like you!” “They look so healthy omg!”. All this external validation was like a drug to me, therefore, I never DARED to even trim it. Yeah. Looking back, I was crazy for that.

Sr for the year 2024-25 + Pluto in Capricorn last turn around : my experience

SR Chart 2024-25 : Virgo rising with the chart ruler Mercury in Leo in the 12th house.

Pretty gloomy and bleak period. I was feeling quite depressed to be fully honest. I started the new school year with every symptoms of depression, exept the su*c*dal thoughts. I was slow, my body was heavier yet I lost weight. I moved slower, thought slower, slept more, was always tired, taking a shower, doing the dishes, eating and every other simple daily task was a burden, harder than usual. My solar leonine energy, my vitality all disappeared without me realizing it. I had low self confidence, didn’t get ready in the morning, and stopped feeling any sense of pleasure. I was empty, crying on the train to my campus. The last time I felt like this, it was in 2018, I was 13, depressed and entering the darkest phase of my Dark Night of the Soul.

Guess what, I am Not A Robot

You've been acting awful tough lately

Smoking a lot of cigarettes lately

But inside you're just a little baby, oh

It's okay to say you've got a weak spot

You don't always have to be on top

Better to be hated than loved, loved, loved

For what you're not

You're vulnerable, you're vulnerable

You are not a robot

You're lovable, so lovable

But you're just troubled

Guess what? I'm not a robot, a robot

Guess what? I'm not a robot, a robot

Once again, I had no other way but to ask for help. I went to see a doctor after years of avoiding it. I confessed a lot of things to my mom with whom I always had/have a really distant and tense relationship. Our conversations were really eye opening for the both of us. I went to see a therapist, and I am still looking for one. I didn’t have enough energy to attend class (I live 1h15/1H30 away from my campus.. so my 8 am classes were awful, especially since not attending is a risk to failing in that subject.. I was in a really problematic period.) But, I met a friend, an Aquarius sun and rising student who helped me throughout all of this. She was the contrary of me in many ways : really social, open and relied on other people. easily opened up to others. She didn’t have those perfectionistic obsessive thoughts. She trusted people, had a bunch of friends, and didn't overthink every single one of her interactions. She quickly became the air that tempered down my fire, which was burning myself out. My ego was killing me and my body (symptoms of depression) was warning me. I couldn’t control these feelings. I hadn't felt that depressed in a while. Like the type of depression that makes you stare at the wall in the morning, struggling to get out of bed.I thought it was behind me. I thought I was better than this. I thought “yes other people have depressions and struggle on a daily basis because of it and that’s okay but me ? I am over it. I had one at the beginning of my teenagehood. Now it can’t happen again, at least not actual depression.” But no, unfortunately for me, It did indeed happen. This showed me I was vulnerable, like every human being. I wasn’t immune to failing, to lose, to being bad, to being average, to needing help. I was simply a human being. I wasn’t a superior entity, a god flying above the rest of humanity.  I was just like them. Was I considered a bit weird for liking astrology, tarot and for listening to kpop ? Was I considered a bit weird for having Halloween as my favourite holiday ? Was I a bit edgy and had a certain sensitivity to anything grotesque, deadly, macabre, taboo ? Yes, I was all of that. But I am still a human being. I am just like other people in many ways, and even if I have more quirks than the average person It shouldn’t stop me from socialising. I need people and people need me, and, honestly, that is totally fine. Connecting with others is beautiful. People are here to help each other and share their experiences. That is the most beautiful part of existence : everyday frivolous conversations with people, interacting with them, exchanging ideas, sharing our daily frustrations and struggles, laughing. All of that is the simplicity I never expected I needed so badly. On the quest of finding this truth, I went faraway in the abstract realm of ideas only to realize that this truth was right in front of me since the beginning.

Life really wasn't as complicated as I made it to be.

A song that sums up this overall energy

Fear and Loathing - MARINA : "I'm done with tryin' to have it all and endin' up with not much at all"

Marina called Fear and Loathing a turning point in her life, after which she stopped being a "bitter person" and began to work with new people and try new things, even though she wrote the song alone in her bedroom in London. She placed the track last on Electra Heart because she views it as a "letting go" song.

In this process of losing myself, I am gaining something precious and that is the construction of a true authentic self-confidence. Not one that is out of fear : out of fear of being perceived like a loser, a compulsive fear of being like my 12 year old self, a scared and terrified pre-teen who hated herself, from the way she looked to her personality and non-existent talents.

I am finally starting to cultivate something solid, something that comes from a deep sense of self. 

[Verse 1]

I've lived a lot of different lives

Been different people many times

I live my life in bitterness

And fill my heart with emptiness

And now I see, I see it for the first time

There is no crime in being kind

Not everyone is out to screw you over

Maybe, yeah just maybe they just wanna get to know ya

And now the time is here

Baby, you don't have to live your life in fear

And the sky is clear, is clear of fear

[Chorus]

Don't wanna live in fear and loathing

I wanna feel like I am floating

Instead of constantly exploding

In fear and loathing

Albums that accompanied me during this period

Traumazine - Megan Thee Stallion

Something to Give Each Other - Troye Sivan 

All year long, I was drawn to artists with an 8th house North Node. Lately, I’ve been drawn to slower, more sensual and jazzy songs, which isn’t something I listen to usually. Songs about intimacy, vulnerability.

-> both artists have a North Node in the 8th house, which is currently the energy I am encouraged to embody as it is the North Node of my solar return for the year 2024-25.

This north node is all about trust and intimacy, sharing oneself, the deepest parts of ourselves with others, sharing our resources, accepting loss and not compulsively clinging onto things, and possessions.

Just in the title of Troye Sivan’s album, this 8th house aspect is instantly identified : we have something to share, to give to others, to exchange with someone. It hints at an exclusive exchange between two people.

Something to Give Each Other hits especially now. Traumazine, it was more in February/March, which was the period I was starting to release things and started healing, feeling deeply angry and sad at the same. (around the astrological new year). Since September/October, especially now and for the next few months if not year, I have been feeling more like Something to Give Each Other. Now more than ever I am discovering the beauty of connecting with others, sharing my true self, throwing myself fully in the unknown nature of human relationships. All of those things , despite being a Pluto dominant and 8th houser, truly terrified me for years  even though I obsessively and terribly craved it at the same time.

This album is my something to give you - a kiss on a dancefloor, a date turned into a weekend, a crush, a winter, a summer. Party after party, after party after after party. Heartbreak, freedom. Community, sisterhood, friendship. All that.

— Sivan describing the album

At the end of the day, we all have something to give to someone, and to give each other.

[simp-ly-writes]

The Assassin's Wife

─────── · · A 'Day of the Jackal' (TV series) FanFic

Pairing: Charles "Jackal" Calthrop x Wife!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: To put it simply, you are the wife of Charles Calthrop having met him at a work event over a decade ago, your romance was story-book perfection up until when you learned he kills people for a living...

─ · · TAGS: second person perspective used, female-pronouns used, fluff and angst, scenes of stalking, blood, violence, injury, guns, and obsessive behaviours, hurt/comfort, arguments, swearing, lying, kissing, the Jackal being a ultra charismatic mf, Marissa (OC), not beta read.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 5,570

─ · · A/N: post number 300! woohoo! soo... I kinda really loved this ask and wrote a whole bunch for it. Be ready for some fluff, angst, and then fluff again!

─────── · ·

─ · · You had been married to your husband, Charles, for well over a decade now. You had met him while attending a work event overseas, your job always had you traveling keeping you from starting any longterm relationships up until you met Charles that faithful night.

─ · · You remember the deep navy blue suit he wore with a light blue dress-shirt underneath. His accessories were silver and by the family signet ring on his finger, you knew him to be coming from wealth and to your surprise as he greeted you with a kiss to the back of your palm, he made his empire himself as he described to you over a few too many glasses at the bar.

─ · · Charles swept you off your feet that night with his lingering looks on your lips, the way he gently held your hand, interlacing your fingers before pulling you outside and to a cab. You remember his touch trailing up your thigh as you gasped at the back of the cab before clearing your throat and placing your head against his shoulder... much like the position you found yourself in currently as you watched your husband sleep, his arm snuggly around your side, head against his bare chest as you traced the various scars across it with curiosity.

Your husband explained to you the multitude of stories on how he obtained each scar and warp of skin as you kissed everyone the same; with love and attention as he had shown you. You simply adored how hard working he was, always away and coming back with that necklace you were eyeing in the market or a surprise vacation. But you couldn't help but miss him, want him with you, and you didn't know if that was selfish of you or not to want him with you constantly when he provided for you with utmost dedication.

─ · · But after so many years of gifts and hugs at the airport as you waved him goodbye. You felt lonely sitting in the parking lot wondering the next time you would see your husband and quite frankly, all of your friends told you he was most likely cheating on you by how often and long he was away without messaging or calling you.

You always waved away their concerns for your wellbeing as you took care of the estate, went to work for a few hours of the day before busying yourself with random hobbies and studying various topics for the off chance Charles would bring it up in conversation during one of his work rants, you liked to call them. Remembering the weight of his head in your lap, the feeling of his soft golden curls running through your fingers as he said every time, without fault, "I'd much rather be here with you, my love." But did he ever fall through with those words? no. But you loved your husband regardless.

─ · · You would always pick him up form the airport when he called the night before, waiting in a sundress with drinks and snacks ready in the car for the long ride back. Charles would place his large hand on your knee as you drove, charming you endlessly with his commentary the whole ride home, "I was beginning to forget just how beautiful you were, had to come back." "What an angel, you are. My guardian angel just meant for me." "You look as raidient as the sun in that dress, my love." "Remind me to kiss you with the same desperation I feel now when we stop."

And like clockwork, you would flush under his loving stare and words before being pulled into bed in an outward display of his love that would leave your legs weak in the morning and him bringing you both up breakfast in bed before presenting you another gift.

You held a tight smile while accepting the gift this time, not wanting to seem ungrateful yet your heart desired the non-material... and it seemed Charles understood this, had been planning something for awhile. You observed the box to be moving and to have... hole in it? You thought to yourself before looking to your husband with shock and confusion as a little bark sounded from inside.

"Charles, darling. You. Did. NOT," you gasp before throwing off the lid as a puppy comes bursting out to your chest, licking your face with gratitude before exploring the bed. Charles picks up the fluffy creature, leading it back to you before sitting near the foot on the bed, massaging your leg gently with a smile, "I know you've been feeling lonely recently and I apologize. I promise that after this next job... I won't have to work as much, this is just the last thing, I promise."

You stare into his eyes for a moment, the puppy wigging in your arms as you pet their head and scratch behind their ears with a subconscious smile growing on your face. "Really?!" you ask excitedly, blinking away tears of hope in your eyes seeing as Charles chuckles softly before you, crawling towards you both and pressing a kiss to the side of your head, catching a kiss on the chin by your new pet as well, "Yes."

─────── · ·

─ · · Charles had actually stayed for longer than you were used to, something about preparing and studying his opponent to strike the best deal. You nodded along, interested but confused on the details of this supposed interaction he had planned as you both walked the dog around the garden property line.

"When we get back, I just have to jot-down the rest of the details before I can join you two for dinner. I picked up your favourite bottle from the market earlier that I was thinking we could share?" You nod, pressing a kiss to his cheek before unclipping your new companion from their leash, watching as they run inside and to their water dish.

Charles's arms wrap around your waist as he presses a kiss to your exposed neck, feeling his smile against your skin, "I love you, darling." You rest your hands atop of his, leaning against his chest and close your eyes, enjoying the warm evenings breeze drifting across both of your forms before taking a deep breath and watching as Charles leaves you and heads to his study.

You get dinner moving, dancing and singing around the kitchen as your puppy runs between your feet, barking cheerfully and trying to dance alongside you. Giggling you pick him up, resting his upper arms on your shoulder as you use them as your partner, spinning and twirling towards the living before placing them in their back in their bed.

Your phone goes off as you rush back to the stove and take the tray out and leave it to cool in front of an open window before cutting the bread. "Smells divine in here," you jump, starting and nicking yourself on the knife, cursing softly as you watch the blood drip from the small cut with a wince before heading towards the sink.

Charles is distraught at the sight of you bleeding, taking quick long strides over to your form, holding your elbow gently as he inspects the small nick, "I'm so sorry," he mumbles a few times between kisses to your face before he moves to get the first-aid kit underneath the skin, patting the counter for you to sit upon as he stands between your legs and dresses the cut.

You smile at how softly he touches you, apologizing as you wince at the solution to cleanse the cut before kissing the bandaged finger afterwards. "I'm quite alright, Charles. Just a minor thing-" you begin to explain yet your husband just shakes his head, annoyed with myself. "I shouldn't have distracted you, got you hurt in the first place, I hate seeing you with this," he holds up your hand in front of both of your faces.

You press your forehead against his own, closing your eyes, "Charles, my love. I would forgive you even if you shot me. No need to worry," You joke in a loving tone- not understanding to the way the Jackal tenses feeling your touch. Visions of your corpse flashing before his eyes with life-like accuracy as he begins to feel queasy, shaking in your hold.

You pull away once feeling him start to breath heavily. His touch falling from your hand to grip the kitchen counter, knuckles turning white as he sees you look up at him with tear-covered eyes, his hand shakes with the trigger- "Charles?" you call out softly, hand hovering over his cheek, feeling as he flinches at the touch, taking a step away while shaking his head to himself before appearing... scarily calm again.

You watch as he smiles, brings up dinner and walks past whatever... episode he seemingly just had as if it had never happened in the first place... a mere fragment of your imagination. You furrowed your brows, jumping down from the kitchen counter before filling up both your plates and following Charles out to the patio where a table set with candles was prepared for you both.

Your heart tremors in your chest, watching as he pulls out a chair for you before pushing you in and seating himself. Pouring glasses of wine for you both with a cheers you gulp down the liquid quickly before gently placing the glass back down on the table and taking a bite of your food, debating weather or not to bring up what had just happened or not.

You ultimately decide not too, enjoying this moment that has been few and far between in recent months as your husband charms you like the first day you met, with coy smiles and charming words that have you falling into his arms and back into bed where you rest upon his chest, listening to his heart beating for you once more.

─────── · ·

─ · · Your friends call you in the morning as you invite them over before telling Charles, you rush towards his office in case he is still undressed for they all would be coming shortly to use the pool.

Knocking at the door, his voice invites you in to see the puppy in his lap as Charles fixes his glasses, looking up from the documents scattered across his desk to you with a loving smile and crinkled eyes, "good morning my love, I'm sorry I was not there to wake you."

You wave a hand on his face walking over and pulling him in for a kiss before looking over the papers and blueprints curiously, hand hovering over the smear of red ink against the corner of a crumpled page before Charles' voice redirects your attention with a hand to your hip, giving a gently squeeze, "was there something you wanted to say?"

"Oh, yes!" you jump back to your previous thoughts watching as he turns away from the desk, the dog jumping off his lap and running down the hall leaving the seat empty. You stare for a moment debating, knowing that if you sit down you might not be ready in time. The Jackal did not care about what you were thinking in the moment though, simply gabbing you by your waist and allowing you to fall into his lap.

"Marissa and my other friends are coming over shortly to use the pool, I just thought to let you know beforehand so you could get ready as well," you explain, playing with the buttons to his creme linen shirt listening to him hum. "I'm afraid that I still have-" you look at him with pleading eyes, hand brushing against the skin of his chest and trailing down, watching as the words die on his lips, "...alright. I'll be there shortly."

You quickly stand back up with a smile, cheering happily listening to him laugh before rushing back to your wardrobe to pick a swimsuit and throw-over for the occasion.

─────── · ·

─ · · A knock sounds at the door that has you nearly falling down the stairs and rushing to hug your guests. Marissa squeals in your ear, wrapping her arms around your shoulders as you both swing side to side. She presents you a bottle of wine and a platter of fresh fruits which you bring out to the deck, showing your guests to where the fridge and restrooms were.

─ · · You feel overjoyed having the house filled and to see the dog running around and jumping after their toys in the pool. You lean back in a lounge, soaking up the sun before a shadow overtakes the warmth. You peel up your sunglasses, as Marissa tits her head to the side, mouthing, follow me. You raise a brow in question but follow her nevertheless into the pool house in which she quickly closes the door and shuts the blinds on both of you.

"Marissa?" you call out her name, squinting through the darkness before flicking on the light," Is everything alright?" you ask again watching as her smile wavers, hands shaking as she moves to grip your own. "I think it's best for you to sit before I say anything..." her thumbs brush against the back of your hands soothingly, your heart races- debating of weather or not to quickly grab Charles for whatever news you were about to be it with.

Seemingly knowing your thoughts, Marissa shakes her head, taking a seat beside you on a stack of spare cushions for your outdoor furniture. "This is about Charles," she explains- you debate weather or not to roll your eyes. "Of course it is. What news do we have this time?" you ask, feeling irritated as you side your hands away from her touch. She looks at you for a moment before sighing, "I know you feel as though I am in the wrong for calling out your relationship and maybe I am, maybe I'm not but I only want you to be safe and happy... you're my best friend, hun and I don't want to see you get hurt."

You nod smiling, "same goes to you-"

"Yes," Marissa cuts you off, playing with her hair, "thats why I'm telling you that your husband isn't who you think he is." She bites her lip, waiting on your reaction. You lean your head forwards, "go on?" wanting to indulge in another one of her 'stories.' She cuts right to the chase.

"He kills people." You gasp, standing up and shaking your finger, "No, NO, Marissa! That is too far this time!" you stomp your way towards the door, shoulders rising upwards and tight, I can't believe she has the audacity to say such a thing. "PLEASE," Marissa runs up, gripping your arm, nearly on her knees begging, "let me explain... I-I have evidence." Your heat drops at her sincerity, the way her large tearful eyes grip your own, forcing you to take a seat again as she pulls open her phone- your hand flying to your mouth in shock.

You look at the various articles she has saved to her camera roll, the dates of the murders lining up with the most recent trips of your husband. "This could only be a coincidence right?" Marissa does not say a word, simply flipping her phone horizontally and pressing play to a news broadcast recording:

"Witnesses have identified the assassin to be a 6ft male with an athletic build. Crime investigators have released the following identikit based upon multiple accounts and ask that if you have any information on where the killer is or where they plan on going to contact local and world police immediately for the safety of the greater public."

You feel sick, head falling between your knees as you shake and cry, knowing that illustration to be hauntingly similar to the love of your life... or so you thought him to be.

Marissa rubs your back in soothing circling motions before looking towards the door and whispering her next words to you carefully, "Please, come with me tonight. Say that something happened with my family and that I need your support. We'll pack and bag and get you out," you nod along, lost in your thoughts and not quite catching her words- ears ringing from overstimulation, the clothes on your body soon feel to hot as you grip your skin in panic.

"I-I he wouldn't lie to me this way... he said he-he loved me?" you hiccup in between cries, now walking around in circles within the small space- wavering on the line of hysteria. "I have to go talk to him, this is a misunderstanding, they have the wrong accounts, they, they..." you shake your head, trying to clear your mind to no avail.

Marissa stands, gripping your shoulders, shaking you, begging you to listen to her, "Please, stay with me for tonight at least. I don't feel safe leaving you here with him, not with what we both know... he could kill us if he knows... we know..." You fall over, back into the cushions, your head feeling to heavy for your body as your spots of black start to cloud over your vision. "M-Marissa?" you beg for what you don't know as she hugs you, begging you to stand and move with her.

"Please, we have to go now. Stop the tears, we must leave-"

"I-I can't!" you shout before watching as her eyes widen, the sounds of the other guests dying down from your outburst. A knock sounds at the door, your heart drops... you both allow a moment to pass before another knock sounds, more rushed and heavy against the wood, "my love? are you alright in there?"

Charles. You and Marissa both share a look, you swallow deeply- clearing your throat, "I'm alright Charles, just an wardrobe malfunction." You hear as your... husband chuckles, "alright, I have a plate of food waiting for you by the pool."

"Thank you, darling!" you shout back before hearing as his footsteps become distant. You let out a breath you didn't know to be holding as Marissa pulls you up, wiping your face with her towel, determination in her eyes. "We. are. leaving." You nod, not trusting your words as you follow her outside, wincing at the light coming into your eyes and heart.

─────── · ·

─ · · You walk swiftly pass the crowd and upstairs, throwing the closet open to find a duffle bag as you begin to pack a weeks worth of clothes. You stop yourself from grabbing one of Charles shirts to sleep in, your fingers twitching as your heartaches, you bite your lip to conceal a cry as your eyes well before turning towards the ensuite bathroom.

You startle bumping into a chest as arms steady you, hand brushing against your cheek as Charles stares down at you- worry clouding over his eyes as he takes in the sight of your tears. "Whats wrong?" he asks quietly, brushing your hair as you shake in his hold... knowing what those hands have done. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to relax in the memory of his touch before pulling away and heading towards the bathroom.

Charles stands there still where you left him, glaring at his reflection in the mirror of the closet before turning around determined to find out whatever or whomever made his darling wife cry. He leans against the doorframe watching as you grab a hairbrush and a few hair ties before brushing past him and throwing them into your luggage- hands shaking as you zip it closed and place it over your shoulder.

But just before you can reach the door, Charles picks you up in his arms, you scream, and places you on the bed- standing at the foot with his arms crossed. "Running away from our issues only prolongs them. What. is. wrong?" he asks, muscles flexing as he forces himself not to physically comfort you seeing as you flinch from every slight sound you hear. Who scared you? What do I need to do in order to protect you? The Jackal thinks to himself, foot tapping in wait.

You sound out the party happening down stairs, focusing solemnly on your breathing, "I-I have to help Marissa with somethings. Her family, things went badly and she needs me?" you try and lie yet your words appear more like a question.

Your husband sighs, head tilting to the side as he analyzes your form, eye twitching... no, she couldn't know that. I've hid it well and no one else would know in the slightest... You watch every small expression tick over his features, shifting in your spot watching as he does the same, mirroring your movements- you feel trapped knowing that Charles was not going to let you leave... not without the truth nevertheless.

You look outside, hoping to catch Marissa's eyes to come and save you yet can see no sights of her. Your bag drops to your feet as you grip your hair, Am I ready to die? You ask yourself, thoughts automatically going to the darkest parts of your mind before you suddenly remember your conversation last night in the kitchen...

─────── · ·

You press your forehead against his own, closing your eyes, "Charles, my love. I would forgive you even if you shot me. No need to worry," You joke in a loving tone- not understanding to the way the Jackal tenses feeling your touch. Visions of your corpse flashing before his eyes with life-like accuracy as he begins to feel queasy, shaking in your hold.

You pull away once feeling him start to breath heavily. His touch falling from your hand to grip the kitchen counter, knuckles turning white as he sees you look up at him with tear-covered eyes, his hand shakes with the trigger- "Charles?" you call out softly, hand hovering over his cheek, feeling as he flinches at the touch, taking a step away while shaking his head to himself before appearing... scarily calm again.

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Shit, you think to yourself... his prior actions all making sense now. You timidly look into his eyes, purposefully trying to make yourself appear small... make him feel the heart you have loved ever-so dearly up until this point, and to some degree, you still do for the years of affections you both have shared.

"Tell me what you know," The Jackal asks calmly, your blood runs cold as he stares down at you, nose twitching, eyes daring you to try and lie again to him.

You open and close your mouth, unsure of what to say before letting lose knowing that you were not making it out of this room no matter what so you might as well do it with morals and truth. "I know you kill people," you begin to say.

The room is dead silent as you both stare into one another's eyes, "Tell me that you don't," you whisper, tears silently falling down your cheeks that you do your best to try and blink away resulting in only more coming. Yet in your husbands move not to answer you provides you with the most deafening answer yet... he does.

You shake your head, nails digging into your palms, threatening to break skin. You flinch again to his touch, feeling as the Jackal gently pulls your fingers away from hurting yourself- your heart hammers in your chest like a drum, you know he can hear it to by the way his head falls. "Tell me that you don't," you whisper-shot, shaking your head, confused as to how the soft and intelligent man you fell in love with, that you married and planed to have children with... kills people.

"I kill people for money," the Jackal whispers quietly, a part of hoping that you do not hear his words, that you would return to your smiling and loving self, taking him back with open arms- unknowing once more yet you understand what he says, "Listen to yourself and say it again," you demand of him.

The Jackal removes his touch, taking in a shaky deep breath, closing his eyes as his hands shake down by his sides into fists, you slowly crawl back on the bed, "I kill people for money," he says a bit louder. You scoff into a cry, "say it again."

"I kill people for money," the Jackal states picking up his head to look you in the eyes, his heart breaks seeing your tears, watching as you flinching when he moves to brush them away. You'e afraid of me, Charles thinks to himself. I've failed to protect you, the Jackal thinks to himself. You are shaking in your spot, "say it again, say it-"

"I KILL PEOPLE FOR MONEY. Is that what you want to hear? Is that enough? Is it enough?" The Jackal snaps at you before falling to his knees, head in your lap as an offering. You feel the way he grips your sides, sobbing into your skirt, pleading for you to love him. Yet you just stare forwards, looking out to the sun and all the people downstairs, your eyes catch Marissa's as you stand, his body rolling off of yours as he stays collapsed against the floor watching as you slowly pick up your bag and close the door on him.

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─ · · You felt disgusted for not being able to go to the police about your husband... or well ex-husband. You sent the divorce papers in at Marissas request after your first month out on the run from your heart but no matter where you seemed to go, what disguises or excuses you used when he would just find your new phone number again, you still loved him.

─ · · A part of you knew deep within that not every moment you shared together could be a lie. He trusted you to sleep beside him, to cook for him, to be his confidant to his "work rants," and spent his pay check on you... but he kills people... you think to yourself, 'only the bad people, promise,' you remember him telling you via letter to your mailbox during your first week in Australia where Marissa left you before returning back to Spain. You shake your head, confused with yourself; head and heart competing...

But when you saw golden locks out of the corner of your eye, green-eyes hidden behind tinted shades and tall muscular body draped in a fine linen suit... it would be an understatement to say you folded in the first seconds and fell back in love in the first moment when he picked up your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it and refused to let go, intertwining your fingers together on the table as he payed for lunch and all your drinks without a second thought.

And when it started to rain in Amsterdam where you were currently "hiding out," he draped his jacket over your shoulders and picked you up so that your feet wouldn't get wet in all the puddles and potholes. Carrying you all the back to the apartment you were renting, waiting at the door for you to invite him inside and you did.

─ · · You watched as he unbuttoned and rolled up his sleeves to his forearms, veins flexing across his skin as he clenched and unclenched his hands when you moved past him to sit distantly on the couch. He thought about the comforting pressure of you on his lap, the feeling of your head on your shoulder and your lips against his own. He wanted nothing more than to feel your skin against his skin, to get a taste of you once more... but he allowed you space, for now... until things are safe... until the job is done, Charles thought to himself, taking a sip out of the tea you prepared for you both.

─ · · After some catching up on both of your sides, your concern grew not only for yourself and your safety, but for your husbands as he was being pinned down on two fronts. One by the police, the other by his target and his men... a part of you knew that your safety did relay on the Jackal getting his work done and knew that from you not going to the police right away, not protecting the 'public', you were in some part just as guilty as he- a participant... "let me help you.... please." And the Jackal nodded.

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─ · · Returning to Spain, the Jackal gave you a series of instructions and lists of where secret rooms, weapons, and security lockdown procedures he had installed for a moment that you had no clue existed before and never would have.

─ · · You shiver at how precisely Charles can check the various weapons on himself, flipping knives in his boots, checking his magazines and checking the sights down the barrel of his gun before giving you a kiss and telling you to go sit in the bedroom upstairs with the dog, waiting to flip a switch in the wardrobe at his request to cut all the power to the house through your earpiece.

You nodded, pulling him in for a second kiss, lingering before pulling away slightly and kissing all the way across his cheek to his ear, whispering, "live for me." You didn't receive a response, only a pat at your hit, silently demanding you to move as you pick up your furry companion and closed the bedroom door, putting on a record just like intersected... sitting still and looking pretty and innocent, just waiting on your husband to return.

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─ · · You didn't bother to look at the clock, watching as the minutes ticked over and the dog laid asleep at the foot of the bed. Your fingers running across the soft fur of their back only to startle as you hear your front door be blasted through and two pairs of boots stomp their way into your home. Your breath hitches as you quickly stand and look at the window seeing no addition people in the tree line.

You double check to ensure your door is closed before pressing down on your ear, listening closely for your queue... "Do you hear me darling?" Charle's soft tone floods your ear, you can hear him taking shallow long breaths in and out, most likely hiding somewhere in the walls. "yes," you whisper, starting to make your way into the closet- waiting... "flick the switch, gorgeous." Lights out!

─ · · You are suddenly surrounded in darkness as you tip toe your way back to the bed and place yourself on top of the covers, scrolling through your phone once hearing their boots near the door. The dog shuffles by your feet but does not move as the door creaks open and two flashlights are shined in your eyes, causing you both to stand alert. "HANDS UP!" a woman shouts, you wave your hands in the air. "P-please don't hurt me! Take whatever you want from the house!" you beg, tears starting to drown across your cheeks as you work to distract the women. "Please!" you beg over and over again dramatically, falling to your knees as your hands press against her boots.

"I'm here to protect you ma'am, just do as I say and we will have no issues," the woman in uniform tells you- you nod your head. "Stand," she demands and you oblige, rising to your feet and grabbing your pet in your arms. "Do you have any idea what your husband does?" she questions you, moving you both towards Charle's study and telling you to sit at his desk. You nod your head, hearing as her breath hitches, "he works in global sales for an insurance company," you explain.

"I can show you the new logos?" you ask confusing the woman. "No, I don't care about that... you are married to Charles Calthrop, correct?" You nod your head again, "Yes, that is my husband." The floor suddenly creaks down the hall, the woman turns around sharply, flashlight pointing down the hall as you hide underneath the desk in preparation yet hear no rounds fired.

Looking up slowly, the room and the hall now appear empty as you listen to boots run down the hall and turn down the stairs into the living room. "Stay where you are," Charles demand comes through your ear, "okay," you whisper, holding onto the dog closely as you brace, listening to the distant conversation and then... BANG... a pause... BANG BANG. Another two shots sound and then... silence once more.

"Good girl, you did your work perfectly, my love," Charles praises you before telling you to come downstairs with the luggage for you both. You feel as your husband quickly pulls you in for a hug, caressing your head in an effort for you not to see the body behind him. You feel as he kisses the top of your head, "All ready to go?" he asks you.

"I'm ready," you respond with determination.

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─ · · A/N: no part 2's to this one!

─ · · JACKAL TAGLIST: @swiftietevitdrewjew @groovyponypatrollamp @alelo23 @apaperflowerreader @itz-stuts