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bakugoushotwife · 1 year ago

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𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖑 𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 // 𝖔𝖓𝖊: 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖊𝖓

↳ cw: minors dni, dark content. proceed at your own risk. sukuna, human!sukuna, historical inaccuracies, murder, npc character death, gore, blood, knifeplay?, marriage, mentions of having children, smut, fingering (fem receiving) size kink, virginity loss, corruption kink, breeding kink, creampie, uhhh making shit up for sukuna's backstory, he's a soft husband kinda? ↳ series masterlist ↳ jjk masterlist ↳ part two

before he was a curse—he was just a man. surely unsightly and terrifying in every way; abandoned from the beginning and forced to learn how to survive the hard way—the powerful sorcerer known as ryomen sukuna had come to extinguish your clan at last. news had traveled fast from the fujiwara clan—the high ranks of the village knew what had happened there—and what would be sure to happen here. you could feel the energy shift all the way from the estate, like a dark, lightning-charged cloud had swallowed you whole. your father was the lord of this clan—the first man. as his daughter and only surviving child, you were expected to be right by his side to greet—and hopefully negotiate with the heian era’s most powerful sorcerer.

so you kneeled next to your father, head bowed deeply, nearly touching the ground. your betrothed mirrored the actions, showing respect to the man they called the disgraced one. your kimono was layered and bright–you were certainly eye-catching. sukuna always did enjoy the fanfare as he made his appearances around japan—the fear was sensational; the way villagers would plead for their lives or for the children to be spared. intoxicating. even smaller praises like this caused a smirk to blossom on his lips. supposed rulers on their hands and knees before him, all in the hopes that he would make one exception.

too bad for this small, hillside citystate. he would brutalize the women, and slaughter everyone else. well, maybe he’d hang on to a few of the women if they were obedient enough. then he’d set fire to the structures your ancestors worked so hard to erect, there would be no trace of your bloodline.

you feel the vibrations of his footsteps on the dais more than you hear them echo. “rise.”

you are the first to move, easing your hands by your sides and straightening your back. your stomach lurches. this was a man? he was humongous, nearing eight feet tall and seemingly just as wide across with a double set of hulking arms and sneering eyes. he was rippled in muscle, broad black markings wrapping around his biceps and thighs, lines scattered across his seemingly disinterested face. one of his four hands clutches a trident-shaped weapon, a second combing through his pink peony colored hair. the other set balances on his hips, carmine eyes combing over you and your reaction to him. unblinking, the both of you.

your father clears his throat, afraid you had committed the sin that would damn your clan’s village. your fiancé elbows you in the ribs to get you to stop staring, to stop blushing at the monster before you. you bite at the inside of your lip, tearing your gaze away.

what an interesting creature you were. it was hard to explain, but no one had looked at him like that before. he wouldn’t say unafraid—it was clear you knew what was potentially on the line. but you didn’t seem…disgusted. so naturally opposed and recoiling away like everyone else. like he wanted from commoners like them–like you. so why did you hold your head so high to look him in the eyes? who were you?

“my apologies, my lord,” your father bows again and then casts a glare at you. “my daughter is still learning how to be a proper lady.” he says, smiling nervously. it’s clear to you and to every one of the villagers watching how spineless your father is. even your fiancé is shaking like a leaf right next to you—embarrassing. you wouldn’t be surprised if sukuna murdered you all simply because of this pathetic showing.

his gaze just trails over to you again. he says nothing, mouth almost in a pout his lips were so downturned. you feel your body grow hot under his examination, at this point you feel it more rude to look away. that coupled with the wimpy performance your men were putting on had you raising your chin again, even splitting your cheeks into a smile. “it is ladylike to look our honored guest in the eyes.” you refute, and that has his attention. you speak out–you fight back. he’s always liked his women feisty.

that simpleton to your immediate right puts a hand on your arm, gentle eyes begging for you to keep your mouth shut. your eyes narrow in argument, and before you can speak again…the said guest speaks.

“what do you want.” his voice is a silky deep pulse, bored in every way. your father starts to wring his hands.

“your excellence, we would be of your greatest debts if you would consider sparing our people…i-i-in exchange for whatever you may desire!”

how pathetic. and absolutely stupid. “do you think you are the first to ask mercy of me? or do you think i owe you a favor…? i have the means to take what i want. i am wasting time even entertaining your stupid pleas.” he seems so aggravated–it’s such a shallow solution. he could request every woman in the village—he could take the lord’s daughter in front of everyone here and now. boring—where’s the creativity? clearly the man didn’t care for his people with more effort than this half-baked plan—

“my lord, if you’ll excuse me weighing in..” you say, your satin voice wrapping around his very thoughts. “you’ve conquered every territory that you have set your eyes upon. if we yield our lands and our rule to you with peace…we could assist with trade and labor.” you hum, hands folded before your stomach. your painted lips are pursed, he can tell even you are annoyed with the lame fodder your father provides. sukuna enjoys your boldness–even if women are oftentimes if not usually the weakest beings present, you seem to carry the intellect of your clan. but your father has had enough interruption.

“insolent woman!” your father says, turning to spew more, but it doesn’t come. you hear a blade whip against the wind, and he’s decapitated at the mouth, his body falling toward you with a sloshy thud. the crowd screams–your fiancé leaps back in horror. your body twitches with surprise, a splatter of blood painting your cheek.

“waste of skin and bones and my precious air.” sukuna sneers, his attention now fully crowned upon you—the new leader of your village. you turn away from the cross section of your father’s face and towards the man that did it without moving a muscle. no, it was his technique—a set of words that made it effortless. you can’t tell if it’s shock or genuine gratefulness that floods your veins. “is this your husband?” the conqueror asks, jutting his chin towards the man cowering behind you. his eyes nearly glow with something you would call excitement.

you were your father’s only child–and regrettably a woman. you had no say in your betrothed. heaven knows you wouldn’t have picked the coward using you as his shield. you had no say in a lot of things—but maybe thanks to this vile man, your luck may have changed.

“he is promised to be.” you answer, the unpleasant cock of your jaw when you answer tells the demonic sorcerer all he needs to know regarding your affection for him. his smirk grows into a genuine smile—pointy white teeth flashing at you. something about him makes your insides bubble. and not in a way akin to fear.

“he is an utter embarrassment.” he snorts, and you smirk for only the faintest second. “very well. i shall accept your proposal. your people can live if you serve me. you will be the crown ruler.” he steps closer, body towering over you and heat radiating between you both in proximity. you don’t step back, and a certain hunger develops in his vision. you’re fiery, even bold enough to meet with him without flinching. you are impressive, even down to your cursed energy. “what is your technique?”

“black widow…i have webs, poison, and superior…childrearing capabilities.” you redden only slightly when you have to explain the perks of your technique. it’s an ancient one, known to form powerful breeds in the past as well as stand on its own in battle. his eyes turn feral, and his undressing gaze is shameless this time as he looks over your body. you are an interesting little thing indeed, and if he hopes to take over this world…he will need a strong wife to produce a long line of strong heirs to forever rule. you are beautiful and spirited.

one of his hands reaches for your face, two thick and calloused fingers tilting your chin up higher so he may see your face in its entirety. yes, you would make good heirs for him. they would be plenty attractive if they took after you as well, something crucial for the success of his bloodline. your cheekbones are shapely and your eyes set in a beautiful bedroom stare. your lips are pouty and full, teeth perfectly indenting your fatter bottom one. his touch is searing your skin in a way you’ve never known. he is at least three times your size and a mystical beast in your world…and your insides are throbbing at his closeness. you’ve never experienced this with your fiancé.

you look at him in a way that’s foreign. he doesn’t know quite what to make of it, except that he enjoys it. he smirks, eyes trailing to your body. it’s covered by the many layers of your kimono, but if your chest was any indication—you’d have no issues bringing heirs for him either. his fingers tighten around your chin, pressing your cheeks together. it pouts your red-painted lips, and you giggle at the carnal enjoyment he seems to get from it.

“u-unhand my b-be-betrothed!” your cowardly fiancé finally says. peeking over your shoulder.

sukuna never looks away from you, only thrusting his trident out into flesh—into the face of the man you’re supposed to marry. he didn’t drop his hold on you, keeping you from looking at the gore.

“you’ve a new betrothed, little thing.” he grins cockily, admiring how you never got fully to your feet. your father had been dumb enough to do so–and your fiance decided to challenge the wrong man at the wrong time. but you, you only rose to your knees, thick lashes batting up at him, one hand still occupied in cupping your soft skin. the trident lowers to your face–not an aimed weapon. a gift. he grins, teeming with insatiable desire and excitement. his mind was made up ages ago–the moment you spoke. he has found his wife, and now he wants her to accept him wholly–to perform for him and him only. “clean the hiten.”

the flame climbing in his eyes made you tingle, even sent a wave of vertigo to your head. you feel the need to please him, the idea of becoming his bride was desirable to no one more than you. he had freed you from a life of serving your father and miserable husband-to-be. he was a powerful ruler–the most feared man alive. and he was strikingly beautiful to you, hence the craze in your stomach when he looks at you in this way. you have always liked to play with fire and the unknown. with your entire clan watching, you lean forward and flatten your tongue against the sharp metal of his weapon. the steel is cool, and the wet liquid warm. if not for the temperature difference, you may not have been able to tell the blade from the blood.

oh he could give you an heir right here. the seductive nature you possess, on your knees and looking up at him so obediently, tongue out and splattered with blood so red it outmatched your lipstain. his thumb strokes your cheekbone, his grin turning wicked. this shall be the capital of his new kingdom, and he would build his legacy alongside you—the perfect mate, handcrafted just for him. clearly, no other man would have been enough to satiate you anyhow. the wife of a man such as he would be widely revered and respected, by none more than himself. he would give you a proper ceremony, he would give you the next little prince or princess once your souls have been bound, and no sooner, even if it’s a torture to himself. it’s a gift he could spare for the woman he shall keep forever. “we will marry by the new moon.”

you lick your lips, leaning back with a nod, “it is my honor, my lord.” you bow your head again, but even that doesn’t hide the eager smile on your lips. you have to be the weirdest woman alive—and it intoxicates him. he leans in, one hand tilting your chin back up to meet his bedroom gaze.

“no. from today on—i am a king. and you…will be the queen of my hard work. and you all,” he turned to your people–now an integration of his own people, “are invited to the wedding.” his sarcastic voice carries over the crowd. he is smug, but you can tell the pride is real. this is…more than mere conquest for him. he would not marry you for sport. something in your heart softens at this, at his proclamation. you know you do not need to fear him at all.

“we will get straight to organizing the ceremony.” you nod, waving in some guards to clear the bodies. no one in the congregation moves–no one speaks. you have to look closely to make sure anyone is even breathing. the silence insults you. you know they’re scared–but can’t they see? this union has saved their lives—has turned them from peasants to lords and ladies in their own right. upon seeing the angry look on your face, your new husband-to-be hoists you to your feet, red eyes zeroed in on the men dragging the corpses away–threatening them to comply.

“you should be celebrating. if my father had continued down his path, we would all be dead! now, you’ll flourish! you should be championing his graciousness!” you announce, the showing of your own spirit only cemented his decision. no concubine of his could stand in your shadow—and he has hardly even touched you. his chest…it was tightening right where his heart was. sukuna never realized affection could cause such physical sensation, but it wasn’t a bad one. he was just acclimating to this, to wanting someone around. to wanting this life after being alone for so long. but he saw it when he looked in your eyes. he saw the future he could have, he felt a fraction of the love, of the completion you will bring to his life. he had long moved on from the concept of love. even sneered at the mere mention of such a hideous joke. his own parents hadn’t loved him. who possibly could?

and why was it a little girl from a random village carved out of the side of a hill outside of the big city? why was it a girl with an ancient powerful technique that had the nerve to look him in his eyes and smile kindly? he didn’t mind not knowing why. as long as this is true. as long as you become his queen and promise to give him your all. the sound of your people cheering his name catches his attention, your sweet face looking at him in wait, such pride on your features. you were giving him your all right in this very moment. yes. the month could not turn quickly enough.

however, ryomen sukuna found that the thirteen days you had to organize some sort of ceremony were well worth the wait. you still spent everyday together, showing him your admittedly beautiful lands and estate, though he spent much of the time planning the renovations to truly make the place fit for royalty. you could hardly believe this was the man of legend, the evil and cruel sorcerer that had even his own kind running the other way sooner than fight him. if he hadn’t slaughtered two men in front of you, you’d be like to dispel those stories entirely. sukuna is…harsh, and rough around the edges, yes. but you can tell it’s more out of routine combined with his cluelessness. he doesn’t know how to be a husband, and he worries if he will be a quick enough learner. all internally, of course. he would not share such insecurities with anyone. it was hard enough to find a willing lover—a wife! you saw past his looks, even his base beastial nature…so could he run you off if he wasn’t a good enough listener or was too protective?

you planned picnics in gardens and walks along the forests. you showed him nests of baby bunnies and crouched in bushes to feed doe. you planted potatoes and peonies alike, and he was enchanted by you. your soul—he felt like he could see it at times. like a bright glow in your chest, a happy yellow that gave you such an angelic glimmer he couldn’t believe that you of all people held such tremendous power over him, such a dark and devastating omnipotence that had never lost a battle. except this one. laying amongst a bed of moss by a lake, your tiny frame snuggled into his side, secured by his right two arms. the sun has started its retreat, the hazy pink and orange complimenting the natural brightness you possess, the black widow of darkness that you are–still shining like the day. it seems you know how to sort your powerful black away from your brilliant brightness—an impressive split to you that he admired; the power to control yourself–to not be consumed as he has been.

the frogs croak in a pitchy symphony, but you’re as happy as can be. you brought a book, one you’ve been reading to him all day. he found the sound of your voice peaceful, the lively way you theorized and asked his opinions was as entertaining as the story itself. under the leafy willow trees, he almost didn’t feel like a bad man at all. he almost felt reborn, at peace. in love. he had accepted this but had not yet said it. it was clear to you that he felt it anyway. a man like him would not tolerate you in the way he does if he was not crazy about you.

the book snaps closed and you’ve turned on your side so that you could meet his eyes. “we’re getting married tomorrow.” you say with a breathy gasp, your smile mending his very soul every time he witnesses it. he nods, giving you that same deadpan look he normally does.

“yes, this is true.” he raises a brow, prompting you to say more. his head is propped up on one of his arms, the other hand caressing your cheek as he is prone to do.

“well–aren’t you excited?” you huff, knowing damn well he just expresses himself with a certain…emotional stuntedness. if the man had it his way, you’d be a week into your honeymoon by now.

“of course, you pest. you have been mine since the day i arrived—but i will be grateful to make this official and binding.” he hums, pinching your cheek affectionately. you scrunch your nose and balance an arm on his chest, crawling closer still. the adoration–that’s it, the foreign look in your eyes. it’s adoration—it makes his own chest flutter. a feared man—now bowed to a mere tiny woman. he’s annoyed by himself, so he rolls his eyes as you approach.

you match the gesture, raising a brow. “how romantic, my beloved.” you snicker, and this time he tugs your hair. “hey! i meant all the eye rolling and grumbling!” you squeal, laughing. he didn’t pull hard enough to hurt–just to annoy you like you annoy him.

“brat of a woman. seems tonight’s sleep alone will be my last peaceful one.” he smirks, closing his eyes to enjoy the peaceful scene–even if you two are mercilessly taunting each other. he appreciated the humor.

you scoff, playfully pouting. “only cause you’ll be so enticed by me every night–”

it was his turn to scoff. “you couldn’t handle me every night. you’re an idiot.” he says, peeking an eye open to see you scowling at him. even that was ridiculously cherished to him.

“tch–you don’t know for certain. but i will be pleasing my husband every time he needs.” you purr, holding his eyes. it was only now that it hit him; you are attracted to him. you’re not looking past his grotesque form, you love what you see. until now, he assumed the power and promise of safety was enough, the companionship he could provide. but no, no, that adoration has always been there. that want, since the day you seduced him in the first place.

“mm. i’m sure. i have no doubts, kozō.” he hums, his deep voice a comfort to you–as well as the lazy grin that spreads across his features when you lean up to bite his bicep—well what parts of it you could fit in your mouth.

the next day, he was the first to arrive to the scene of your ceremony. it was nicer than most, even he knew that. weddings of the time were often not love related at all. just practical arrangements between the aristocrats. so there were no cheering townspeople, no lofty ceilings and stuffy rooms. just the sakura tree with her leaves rustling in the sweet gentle breeze that blew through the gardens as he strolled up to it, following your cherry blossom path to his spot. it was scenic–he should have known that you would opt to marry in the open, in love with the outdoors as you are. the sky is so clear today, another good omen in his eyes. you didn’t leave him waiting long, a different kind of rustling catching his attention—coming from the corner of his eyes.

there you are, in all your beauty. jūnihitoe and all, you looked every bit the queen you would soon become. your heavy layers sway with you as you walk to meet him, that sweet grin pulling at your cheeks that makes his skin crawl—in a good way. he reaches hands out to greet you, and you slide your hand into the one nearest you–his bottom right. you are stunning, even your makeup was subtle, only highlighting your mesmerizing beauty. there wouldn’t be another girl like you for a thousand years.

“my king,” you greet, your voice like liquid gold. “finally, our big day.” you grin even wider— so toothy and precious. it betrays just how excited you are, and has sukuna giving you a rare grin of his own, lopsided as it was—you squeeze his hand in appreciation, grabbing his lower left too.

“my queen,” he hums back, bringing his eyes back to your face, “you look beautiful. are we married yet?” he raises a brow, earning a giggle from you. it seems he must be excited as well.

“well you would traditionally have to kiss me to really seal the union.” you tuck your cheek to your shoulder, fluttering those lashes at him in that adorable way you do. he rolls his eyes–too overwhelmed at the warmth that courses through his veins just from looking at you. it’s nearly pitiful. he uses his free hands to cup your cheeks, towering frame leaning down to mash his lips on yours. it’s hard, and you can feel the nip of his teeth, but it’s perfect. he softens into it a second later, his hands dropping yours in favor of gripping your hips, pulling you closer. all you can feel is him; muscles and warm skin–wandering hands and wet mouths gasping for breath every so often just to instinctually pull and lean closer to each other, until your skin is too hot under the layers of your dress and you need relief.

you step back, cheeks flushed, taking your swollen lip between your teeth–seemingly thinking of what you want to say. that simple expression has all the blood rushing to his cock, a simple grunt spilling past his lips. he knows what that look means despite this being his first experience, it’s carved into the very marrow of his bones; it’s time to put an heir in you. he steps forward again to close the distance, chest heaving against yours. “your quarters, now.”

you nod slowly, so impatient and needy you can barely stand it—the walk to your room has your knees wobbling. you can feel his intense stare focused on your back–and his cock pressing into it too. your tongue is producing more saliva than usual, head already a little dizzy just from the imagination of what would come next. the heavy doors of your private chambers close with a prominent thud, and his hands cover your frame in seconds. he’s exploring, you realize, combining rough and soft presses over your body with one set of hands; using the other to help you out of those pesky robes. you’re still pressed to his chest, your now bare back soaking in the stability of his decorated abdomen. you can see the pile of fabric on the floor, his hands now pawing at your breasts—feeling them in his palms, pinching and toying with the nipples, chuckling in satisfaction as they harden in his fingers. paired with your pleasurable gasps, he doesn’t have to ask if you like it. your head rolls back to look up at him, leaning all your weight back to give yourself over fully, trusting his will with your body.

he gently shoves you toward your bed, knowing you wouldn’t be able to stand much longer. as soon as your back hits the silk below you, his figure looms above you, standing between your legs that dangle off of the plush mattress below you. “my wife…” he muses, fingers trailing down your thighs, undergarments vanishing next. you look so inviting, so warm, it was fitting for a woman like you. he’s read books—he’s not braindead. he has researched the human body–the woman’s body—extensively in his spare time. like any skilled warrior, he had to come prepared for battle. above all, he trusted himself to know what to do to please his queen, and he trusted you to be vocal enough to assist him along the way. his hands slide back up over the swells of your thighs, creeping closer to your cunt, you suck in a sharp breath as his fingers ghost along your clit, tracing his way down your lips, splitting them…everything was slow…exploratory. it still felt shocking and nice, his touch in general had you buzzing—but he’s learning how to touch you, seeing the shift of your brow has his fingers moving faster, confidence bolstered by your little gasps as he rubs little circles over your nerves. his own desire was quickly mounting—outweighing his wishes to be careful and please his new wife. you were a strong woman anyhow, no? you wouldn’t have captured his soul in the way you did if you couldn’t handle the brunt of his devotion, after all…

so his fingers move faster, his top set of hands sliding up your abdomen to knead at your breasts—making your eyes widen at the new rush of pleasure that comes with the simple tweaks and pulls of your nipples coupled with the foreign delicious tingle his calloused fingers evoke with the perfectly timed circles he rubs over your pussy.

“oh—it burns,” you whine, placing a hand over your stomach. he only grins in response, hovering between your legs like a ravenously wild animal, the devilish glint in his eye had every part of that burning fire growing and licking your insides. he finds it so cute that you don’t even know what you’re experiencing, that he gets to give you your first pleasure ever. the sadistic side of him relishes that look of confusion on your face as your orgasm takes you by surprise, your breathy moans are truly the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard—and he thinks that maybe all the pain and suffering was actually worth it; if this is his reprieve. if your soft body and loving eyes would be waiting for him everyday, then surely he would learn how to be the perfect partner for you, and this night is all about the beginning of learning.

it’s a bliss like you’ve never known, a slight fog coming over your brain and vision as your body pulses with delirium, lightning like sparks running through your very chakra, heart picking up again as he lifts your legs to his hips and lets his pants fall to the floor. all you feel is a warm, wet rod of skin resting against your fluttering cunt, but his view is much better. his wide, lengthy shaft is going to tear your virgin hole apart, the angry red tip was oozing—needy. he was just as bad as you, having fantasized about this moment since the day you licked the blood from his blade. you squirmed impatiently beneath him, whining out.

“i’m ready, don’t think too hard.” you giggle softly, knowing something of what to expect. it was to hurt, make you sore—but with time and the proper readying, you would be fine. you could feel your own fluids sliding down the crack of your ass, so you knew you were prepared. “i know it’s gonna sting—but i want to make you feel good…” you nod again, holding around the wrists of his upper pair of arms, which hold your face in their hands. his lower set keeps your legs secured on either side of his hips, and it’s clear you don’t know the inner war waging inside his mind. does he give into his desires and likely destroy your little cunt or does he rein it in and learn how to please you fully…perhaps both are achievable. he is an expert and a warrior–now a king! he can take what’s his and find the pleasure for himself that lurks between your legs.

with your boasts of preparedness, he leans back and sheaths his fat cock in your walls, snapping his pelvis into your hips. you wail out, legs jerking back in his hands, head thrashing from side to side. tears instantly cloud your eyes, and he loves it. the glossy look you give him, full of cock for the first time, he carved it into memory. your hands claw at his beefy biceps, unable to process the shocking pressure you feel all of a sudden. it truly does sting, and you feel yourself squeeze down around the foreign object in order to fully relax. he seems to wait until your squirming stops, until your pussy waves the white flag of surrender and acclimates to his size.

“there, you really can fit it all.” he muses, seemingly impressed. you whine softly, words dying in your throat as the tears finally slip past your waterline. he leans in to lick them off your face, long tongue pointedly tracing the salty line up your skin, making you gasp at the sensation. he finally starts to move, short strokes hammering into the little flap keeping him from bullying his cock any further. he grunts out in satisfaction, your tight cavern was obviously made for him with the way you clutch so perfectly around his dick—nothing could compare to the liquid smoke rolling through his body at this very moment, his hips pulling back further as you loosened your grip around his arms, soft moans pouring from pouty lips. “you look so wonderful like this, wife of mine.”

he meant it to, your breasts jumping with every force of his cock, your gorgeously arranged hair now spread out around your head like a built in spotlight, cheeks darkened with heat and eyes rolled back in your head—body overcome with all the ecstasy. he shifts your legs to his shoulders, earning a sharp cry as he leans in, folding you in half and slamming himself into your cervix just to growl angrily at the stoppage. you’re sure you’re seeing colors that don’t exist, floating orbs of color melding your vision, you go cross-eyed. his cock drags through your walls, letting you feel every vein and ridge to the appendage. his hands held your hips, using your own curves as leverage to make you scream even louder—that burning stretch building its way up in your stomach again.

“sukuna!” you yelp, hugging around his neck. your pleas drive him wild. he knew it was attainable, to fuck you like he wanted and give you everything you had ever wanted too. he presses his lips to your neck, nipping and sucking—fully nibbling and biting to leave marking bruises. the tickling pain has your legs jerking and pussy spasming out of control, the clamping rhythm causing your husband to groan your name in response to your chant of his own.

“cum for me again, so i may fill you with my heirs.” he demands, his voice a gravelly purr against the shell of your ear. lightning strikes again, and you have no choice but to obey his command—the idea of growing his children too appealing to ignore. you were so worth waiting for–but he was now greedy and impatient, he would breed you daily, needing you to be round and hobbling before the year’s end. marriage was step one of claiming his woman, impregnating her was another, and your cute cries of begging only made his cock throb inside your choking heat.

“yes!! oh–gonna cum for you, love you so much—give you a whole army’a heirs if you wan’!” you babble back, your brain nearly oozing out of your ears as you melt into the pillow, legs trying to close around his hips, body violently tossing and turning with the force of your second orgasm. he watches how your face scrunches up and your mouth drops open–your little hand pushing at his chest as if you couldn’t possibly take one more stroke of his cock—but you must. he holds your hand against his heart, rolling his hips forward. the little ring of frothy blood at the base of his cock has his own orgasm crashing over him like a tidal wave.

“good little wife, now don’t spill a drop.” he grunts, leaning back to let your body twitch as he uses the warmth of your cum to move without resistance, heaving a deep sigh, his lip between his teeth as he stills—warmth spilling inside of you that eases all the aching, flooding you with relief. it feels so good you moan a little from that alone, swiveling your hips to instinctively milk his weepy cock dry. he assists you, smirking. he knows the monster he’s just created, and now he’ll never get away with cumming anywhere but your gorgeous cunt. his hands map out your curves, his cock plugging you full. he meant what he said. one hand slides up further, petting your hair back. he can’t fight the lopsided smile on his face as he watches your pinched brows ease, your heaving chest calm. you finally open your sleepy eyes, grinning up at him. you were ethereal.

“lay down, want to snuggle.” you whine out in demand. and what kind of husband could deny such a powerful request? it’s easy for two of his hands to slide under each thigh, the other supporting your back as he rolls the two of you over. you grin in satisfaction, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. “that was amazin’...feels so good to..make love.” you giggle a little shyly. his fingers toy with the ends of your hair, a lazy smile on his lips as well.

“mm, it does. you are the perfect woman for a man like me.” he says with as much gentleness as you’ve ever heard from him. your eyes sparkle and that only makes his heart squeeze uncomfortably again. another hand rubs circles against your bare back, and he nods his head to his chest. “rest now, little queen.”

you give him another toothy grin and bury your face against his pillowy chest, dainty fingers tracing the black lines decorating his skin. he never pulls out of you, just as soothed by the feeling of you as the reverse. he’s not sure who fell asleep first, but he does know he cannot wait to wake tomorrow morning. there’s coronations to plan.

tags: @neon-crow @skypperlegacy @gis4greenandgreenisgre4t @secondos-slut @alltimenogoaway-blog @tragedyofabrokensoul + reply in the comments to be tagged!!

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lustjunkiie · 5 months ago

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oh, father! where art thou?

part four.

highschool au, long lost lovers, enemies to lovers if you squint, grumpy and sunshine-esque dynamics (eventually), simon riley & fem!reader.

cw) angst, use of 2nd person, allusions/vague depictions to intimacy eventually, drinking eventually, breakdowns, motherhood, simon riley is father, un-canon lore! all of it eventually, MILITARY INACCURACIES SORRY SUE ME also not proofread!!! :U

a/n: guys!!! i have 100 likes on this account already 🥹 i want to kiss you all! also peep the hamilton reference ;P (sorry listening to “the world was wide enough” rn LOLL)

a/n 2: THIS IS SO FECKIN SHORT IM SORRY luvvies i try my best omggg !! also i might try to start writing some more intimate scenes ! if that’s something you’d all want! i’ve never written anything super explicit so ! tips are appreciated (no pun intended)

to my favourites! @girl-lostconnection @alkalineapparition and everyone else!

a/n 3: (i can’t shut the fuck up) if you want to be on my tag list comment on this post / my masterlist / send me a message! okay sorry bye enjoy

previous part

— dianna

It has been nearly three months since you’ve seen Simon. Boot camp has been nothing short of Hell, he’s told you in his letters. But he also tells you he’s happy. That the busyness makes him forget about his family. Or the lack thereof. That the working out makes him feel human again, and he loves the physical labor. Loves feeling needed.

And you write back that you love him. And that you can’t wait to see him again.

But the tap out is today. You’re bouncing on your feet getting ready, dressed in the sweetest sundress you own, taming your waves and beating your face. You’re a vision by the time you’re done and you nearly fall down the stairs from excitement. Imagine that.

“Sorry babe! Can’t come get you! In the hospital! Catch a ride! :,)” Ludicrous.

You make it to your car by some miracle and you’re at awe at the English scenery, and how it swishes by in an instant. Old buildings lining the busy streets, and historical landmarks on each corner. Such a vibrant city, Manchester. You can’t wait for Simon to be reminded of all of it.

You drive an hour or so out of the city, to a base secluded in on open field. You’ve never been to this part of England, despite living your life here. You park your car among others. Among mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. You realize now, that even if Simon makes this a permanent thing, you will not be an island unto yourself.

This thought comforts you as you walk, guided by signs and fancy military higher-ups. You see a field of men, dressed nearly the same despite some missing hats and some donning a jacket. A man finishes making a speech that has no significance to you, and you search the sea of men for Simon.

Searching excitedly for him, you bump into a man who dwarfs you. He is considerably large, his shirt fighting for its life. You scramble to apologize, looking up at him to realize he’s wearing. . . a plain black balaclava? The bridge of his nose is visible between his eyes, but everything else is simply a shadow.

But you’ve seen these eyes before. These eyes have undressed you, and these eyes have watched you walk from your final lesson to the parking lot. These eyes watched you graduate secondary school.

Is this Simon?

Who is this? It can’t be him.

The man takes off the balaclava before your mental battle is over and shoves it into his back pocket, wrapping a strong arm around your shoulders before kissing you sloppily — not giving you a moment to register the face under the fabric.

You pull away, your hand flying to pull your neckline above your cleavage again and you apologize.

“You have got the wrong girl, I can assure you! My boyfriend is around here somewhere. Maybe you know him? Simon?” And the man chuckles gruffly, forcing you to look at him.

“I know him well, dove,” he whispers softly, kissing your forehead. Millions of questions rush through your mind.

When did Simon get so strong?

What’s with the balaclava?

There is no time for you to ask for any answers before a man walks over, an ignorant saunter in his hips and a grin larger than life itself plastered on his face.

“This your bird, Ghost?” The man chuckles softly, patting your boyfriend’s back. He is so chipper and Scottish enough to almost make his words incoherent.

Ghost? What the hell happened while he was away from you?

“She’s my girlfriend, Johnny. Not just a bird,”

“Aye, my fault. Nice to meet you.” The man — Johnny — winks at you and shows himself off somewhere else.

“I’ll explain everythin’ later,” Simon says, as if he can read your thoughts. He follows you to the car, and the ride is silent.

So is dinner.

So is aftercare.

There are never answers. The balaclava sits on his desk, teasing you. Daring you to press the issue. But you never can. You wake up next to Simon for the duration of him being home, but you’re unsure who it is you’re truly waking up besides. Who has killed Simon and left this man in his space? In your bed? In your shower? Who has killed Simon and left this man to fuck you?

You feel horrible, you do. But, it’s. . . he’s quieter. Curter with you. This is when you decide to press the issue.

You decide while he’s nose-deep in your tits is best. Licking and biting like a man starved, getting his friction from the sheet.

“What’s with the mask?”

He audibly groans, negatively, and sits up. “Good timin’,” he snarks and goes to change into some new sweatpants. “Nothin’ ‘bout it, luv. Just don’t want all those people seein’ my face. I ‘on’t know. Didn’t figure it’d be an issue.” He explains, almost bored. “Don’t know these people. Don’t tell ‘em my name.”

“An’ you never thought to mention this’a me?” You’re not sure why you’re so irritated about this. Maybe because Simon has changed so much, so quickly. The muscle you don’t mind. But it’s everything else. The anonymity. The curtness. You know what happens from here, and it causes your eyes to sting. You know that one day, Simon will go from curt to silent. He will lose everything that brought you to him, and he will be a shell of himself. War is not kind. It is not gentle. It tears and destroys all in its path. War is not about what is right, it is who is left when all is said and done. And you’ve started crying.

“You’re different, Simon. You are short with me now. These is a different air about you. You don’t even wear the same cologne! You haven’t even unpacked your duffel, ‘ike you’re ready’a go back already! You’re still hiding things from me! Why are ya doin’ that?!” You’re ready to keep screaming but he cuts you off by shoving your face in his pecs. It’s not so bad here.

“Stop.” He orders. Already barking like orders like he’s some kind of Lieutenant. Oh, God, Lieutenant Riley? Could you imagine? You hope he lives to make it that far. “I understand why y’re upset, luv. Y’re scared of change, and of my change, but we weren’t goin’a be those same, timid fuckin’ secondary kids forev’a, yeah? Hell, y’ve changed ‘fore I did. Y’re gorgeous, and y’re a spitfire, luv. Got a sharp tongue now. I’m sorry if’ya think I’ve been short wit’ ya. And I’m not hidin’ nothin’ from you. I jus’ like my privacy, yeah? Don’t know those men, yeah? N’ I’m sorry that me losin’ the cologne is botherin’ ya, but it was from my Dad, luvvie. Couldn’t keep holdin’ on’na it.” He explains, and you feel a bit silly now. “We were bound’a change, luv.” He shrugs, kissing your head. “How can I make it easier for ya?” He asks, and your heart melts. You know now that you only have one condition.

“If you can just stay alive, that would be enough.” You plead, big ol’ doe eyes and batting eyelashes helping your case tenfold.

“I’ll fight for you, my luv. No one else can protect you like I can,” he says and you snort. So cocky, so quickly. You give him that luxury.

“Any other conditions, luv?” He asks, chuckling gruffly at your snort.

“I bought some new rubbers in preparation for today. Yes, there are many’a ways you can make this easier,” you wink. You’re stumbling into bed so quickly that you forget the rubber that started this to begin with.

Oh, what’s one round without it?

#blueberryfic #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #any tag involving cod to be honest #cod au

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sualocin · 3 months ago

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"I wasn't lying when I said that I loved you." Ch. 5 - Blissful Thoughts

Emp!Commodus x Reader

summary: everything hurts and smells of blood. can you be saved?

content warning: angst, hurt / comfort, graphic descriptions and various mentions of blood and violence, commodus being absolutely insane, the L word, medical and historical inaccuracies

word count: 4.1k (oops tehehehe)

a/n: it's finally here! oml this took me so long. when i said i'd give y'all extra, i meant it! enjoy this mammoth of a chapter! sorry not sorry for the gif usage >:)

not beta'd

blog dividers by @cafekitsune

masterlist . . . read it on ao3 . . .

The night that Commodus walked away from you will forever remain in his memories. The internal shame he felt at your words burrowed deep inside of him, driving him to do what he knows how to do best. Ignore, avoid, and do anything to prevent himself from seeing you in an effort to atone for his sins against you. And he did exactly so, keeping himself hidden during the months leading up to the wedding so you wouldn’t have the unfortunate chance of laying your eyes upon him. So he wouldn’t ruin you further. It was for the best really, but he was the only one that had thought so. The only one who would ever think so. He couldn’t see the pain he was putting you through with his disappearing act, but everyone else could. They could see the sleepless nights on your face, the diminished shine of your eyes without him around. You had begun to truly suffer without his presence around you. Lucilla, who was the first to notice these changes in you, slipped letters under his chamber door almost daily. Begging and pleading with him to talk to you, to apologize or even just to show his face to you. Anything would have been better than what he had been doing.

The letter Lucilla slipped under his door the morning before the wedding made him finally see the harm he had done to you, yet again. Her words about how he should have been there by your side, to hold you and comfort you when the stress of it all was too much for you to bear shattered his heart. His tears blotted the parchment, ruining the ink spread across it. Yet he didn’t care about destroying the words written upon the page. The only thing in his mind was that in an effort to make himself pay for his actions, you had suffered as well. It took hours of anxious pacing around his chambers to think of what he was going to say to you. Because Commodus had to apologize. He had to let you know that his self-hatred drove him to do this. That his insecurities got the best of him yet again. He wanted you to understand this before you were to be bound to him for life.

The dark hallways obscured the crumpled bodies of the guards until he was nearly right in front of your door. Focused on their bleeding broken forms, Commodus could feel his breathing pick up, anxious fear flooding his system and sending his senses on high alert. There was no way you had done this. So who did? Were you okay? Were you even in your chambers? The rising scent of blood and the whispers of muffled crying coming out of the cracks between the doors channeled his anxiety and fear into cautious action. Quietly unsheathing his blade, Commodus tried to glance through the gap between the doors. He was only able to make out an unknown figure hovering over your bed. He couldn’t catch a glimpse of you at all. The cautiousness turned quickly to anger and then rage. The thought of someone hurting you fueled his ever present anxiety and nervousness to the max., driving him to rush into your chambers to save you without thinking.

You couldn’t see who burst into the room from your position on the bed, your view blocked by the man trying to carve latin into your stomach. The loud clangs of the doors hitting the walls sent him into a panic. He had stopped his work immediately, forcefully pulling you in front of him to act as a potential shield against whatever was going to be coming to him. Your warm blood now runs straight down your body, soaking into a once untouched part of the bed. The dagger still held tightly in his hand, smeared with your blood, rests now near the open cut on your neck while his other arm was wound tightly around your torso so you couldn’t escape. The placement of the dagger most likely a threat for whoever just interrupted his plans to torture and kill you. Your eyes had screwed shut in pain at the harsh movements he forced you through, gasps of pain ringing free without the man covering them with his hand.

“Open your eyes sweetie, tell me who dares to interrupt my precious work,” The man harshly whispered into your ear, the pet name laced with venom and dagger pressing further into your throat as he spoke. When you finally opened your eyes, you were greeted by the sight of a disheveled and absolutely pissed off Commodus brandishing his sword. You can see the rage in his eyes from your position, the tousled hair like he had been running his hands through it for hours, and the slight anxious shake of his hands as he grips the sword. If you were perhaps in a different situation you might have complimented his appearance, but not here and certainly not now with a strange man holding a blade to your neck. In an effort not to give the man any leverage he doesn’t already have, you stay silent. He does not take kindly to this and shifts the dagger so the point of the blade is now digging into your throat.

“When I ask you a question, you will respond!” He shouts into your ear, disorienting you. It’s hard to remain focused on anything at this point, so many external stimuli are overwhelming your mind. The pain, the anxiety, it all scrambles your brain and renders you limp. The man doesn’t care though, and practically shakes you around trying to get an answer out of you. The motion makes you feel sick due to the searing pain radiating from your thigh increasing ten-fold.

“Do not touch her,” Commodus growls, rage growing with every move the man makes. He has half a mind to just run at the man, but the blade held against you would surely be used to end your life if he did. And Commodus had no such intention of letting you die. His gaze turns to you for a split second, trying to take in your condition. The amount of blood soaking your dress and dripping down your body sends his heart into overdrive. He needed to take out the man quickly.

“You want to know who I am so badly? Take a closer look,” Commodus taunts, trying to get the man to focus on him. He needs to find a way to get closer, to take out the man before he hurts you further. All he wants is for you to be safe in his arms, but he has no idea on how to accomplish that as of yet. The man glares at his face, trying to place it. It’s not until his eyes move towards the crown of laurels laid upon Commodus’ head that he realizes the Emperor of Rome is standing before him, only protected by his own sword. The man grins at his recognition.

“This is perfect news! I don’t have to wait to kill you! I can just do it after I end your lover's life right in front of you!” Joy radiates off the man’s face. Clearly excited to have the Emperor, one of his listed targets, standing before him. It is possible that the supposed-killer is thinking that it will be an easy victory, but he does not know just how hard Commodus trains to be prepared for situations like these. Those training sessions honed his mind to be able to think quickly and effectively in dangerous situations, to formulate a plan as fast as possible. Commodus could lure the man away from you with a challenge, since the intruder seems to think that he would have no problem slaughtering him. And the man seems to be deranged enough to think he could win in a one-on-one against someone with a sword. Should be simple enough to trick him. Because if Commodus didn’t succeed, you would end up with a dagger thrust through your neck.

“If you think I will be so easy to kill, why not try to end me first? See if you could take on the great Emperor of Rome? After all, I have no guards protecting me,” Commodus mocks the man, trying to goad him into releasing you. The prospect of killing the Emperor and his lover in one night must have riled the man up. He shows no hesitation while agreeing to the plan with a vigorous nod of his head. Literally throwing you aside, to which you had yelled out in pain from, the man jumps up and starts to stalk Commodus in circles around him. Commodus outwardly has no reaction, face stoic. He did send a brief glance towards you to see if you were alright from the harsh throw though. Internally however, he was carefully working out a way to make this man pay for his transgressions against the both of you.

These thoughts did not stop him from being aware of his surroundings however, as he could sense the man tried to lunge at him from behind. Commodus reacts swifty, side-stepping the dagger and thus stopping it from hitting its mark. The attacker shouted with glee at the notion of this being a true fight to the death, and recovered quickly. His blade tries to swipe at Commodus’ side, but he brings up his sword and knocks the dagger away from his form easily. The delicate dance of clashing blades continues for a bit, with neither party landing a direct hit on the other. With how spirited and often he trained, it is no wonder that Commodus can hold his own against someone like this without breaking a sweat or letting them land a hit. But the brief glimpse he got of you on the bed, bleeding out while he fought, stole his attention away long enough that the man was able to land a blow to his face.

Hand shooting up to hold his nose at the blossoming pain, blood started to drip down his face. He smeared it onto the back of his hand and across his face by trying to wipe it away. The hit had hurt to some degree, but the fact that the man had struck him hard enough in the face to cause him to bleed only fueled the need to end the silly dance between them. No longer did Commodus block and parry like he was taught, instead he struck fast and hard at the man. Trying to break his guard so he could strike at the pathetic excuse of a human. Being so much taller and stronger, and having a larger blade, he was able to break through easily. Knocking the dagger away from the man he pointed the tip of his blade straight at the man's heart. Wanting him to hurt like you were, Commodus bent down while still keeping the sword pointed at him, and picked up the dagger. It was balanced well, most likely by a master weaponsmith so it could be tracked, but it still had remnants of your blood on it. The mere sight of it still on the blade sent waves of fear and anxiety through him. He needed to make the man suffer.

“You will pay for harming the Empress and Emperor of Rome,” Commodus snarled as he stalked closer to him. No longer recognized as a threat in his mind, the man was reduced to a simple practice dummy. A tool to be used to release anger or frustration. And by the Gods was he going to release his anger upon the man.

“For your crimes against Rome, the Gods sentence you to die,” Commodus raises his head up, looking down his nose at the man. The Gods favored him always, for he was the Emperor. The link between the citizens of Rome and the Gods above, and his word is law. The man radiated pure fear now, for the act of betraying the Emperor and being condemned by the Gods certainly means he will suffer in the fields of punishment for eternity. But that is where he belongs. Commodus smirks at the man, the blood streaked across his face only adding to his intimidating aura. He stabs the dagger into the man’s shoulder, pulling it out rapidly. His cries fell on deaf ears, for there would be no mercy given to him after what he had done. Commodus then stabs it through the layers of the man’s clothing in an effort to bind him to the wall. Simply wanting to ensure that the man could not escape from his future punishment. Now he could focus solely on you.

Eyes half-lidded and breathing rapidly, all you could think about was pain. You could briefly hear a voice shouting for guards, but you couldn’t place it in your state. Mind too focused on the pain to register really anything that was going on around you. Your eyes closed for what felt like a second, only to be wretched open by the feeling of warm hands on your body and tepid tears on your face. All you could see was Commodus above you, his own blood adorning his face around his nose and mouth. He was crying, eyes full of tears and pain and mumbling prayers to the Gods for you to be okay. Upon seeing your eyes open, he stopped his prayers and a watery smile appeared on his face.

“Gods above I thought I was too late,” He sobs, burying his face into your neck. The salty tears sting against the cut there, but it hardly registered to you at this point. Bringing your unsteady hand up to run through his hair, you tried to speak through the pain.

“Y-,” You start, throat aching at the action due to the amount of sobs and cries you had let out earlier, only to instantly be cut off by Commodus placing his lips on yours. His hands move up to hold your face, and softly caress your cheeks. Thumbs mindful of the cut located there. He tastes of salt and coppery blood. The kiss was full of emotions, ranging from sorrow and pain to love and genuine joy. The still wet blood on his face transfers to yours, marking you in a way that will never be forgotten. Not that this moment ever could be. He had saved you, putting himself in danger as he did so. He was willing to put his own life on the line to protect yours. His chapped lips move against yours, deepening the kiss. He was pouring himself into you, wanting you to understand something. Something you couldn’t name. Pulling away from each other, you could hear two guards run into your chambers. A grimace crosses your face as the pain inscribes itself into your brain again.

“Caesar! Are you hurt, my lord?” One of the guards asks, hand on the handle of his sword and glancing around for a threat. The other, having seen the man stuck to the wall, yanks the dagger out and forces the would-be assassin to kneel. The man groaned in pain due to the movement, but no one seemed to care. Commodus sighs, tears still falling down his face, and turns his head reluctantly. He didn’t want to remove his eyes from your form for even a second.

“I am fine. Take the assassin down to the cells. I will deal with him myself,” No one dares to mention the tears present on his face. The guard holding the man nods and all but drags him out of the room. His blood now smudged against the once pristine floor, and his groans echo off the walls. As the dragging and wailing sounds fade, the other guard steps closer to Commodus.

“Should I fetch the healer my lord?” He asks, still standing tall and alert for someone who had to step over his comrades' bodies in the doorway. Commodus is tempted to yell at the man for the stupidly obvious question, but he holds back. Enough anger and blood has been spilt tonight. And he has no desire for anymore.

“Yes, and have someone come and clean up this mess…The fallen soldiers will be honored in a few days time,” He says, gazing back at you. The guard simply nods and turns to walk out, but before he could do so Commodus tells him one more thing over his shoulder.

“Have the guards outside my chambers doubled. Y/N will remain with me while she heals,” You can hear a faint noise of acknowledgement from the guard before he steps out of the room completely. A shaky sigh leaves Commodus as he rests his forehead against yours, fear slowly dissolving now that he is next to you. His arms move to snake around your torso, careful not to touch the carvings on your stomach. The blood stain from your stola was slowly being transferred to his white tunic from being pressed up against you, but he could not care. The blood staining your clothes, your skin, none of it mattered to him. Clothes could be washed or tossed away, skin could be scrubbed, nothing else mattered except you. He was content with just holding you close, feeling your form pressed against his. You tapped his head, a signal to get him to loosen his hold. He pulls back, just enough to see your full face. Your hands move to cup his cheeks, thumb just barely brushing against his cheekbone.

“You sav-” You can’t even get two words out before Commodus is kissing you again. His tears have since stopped flowing, but the salty remnants are still present in the kiss along with the coppery tang of blood. He is the one to break the kiss first, eyes shut and breaths coming out in short pants. He angles his head to kiss both of your palms before he opens his eyes again. The striking cerulean hue of his eyes could always bring you to your knees.

“I love you,” Commodus whispers, waiting for a rejection or hint of disinterest from you. But he receives no such thing. There is only love in your eyes, only love in your heart for him. And he will always have your heart.

“I love you too,” You manage to croak out, eyes slightly misty but cheeks red hot. Commodus smiles and kisses you softly again. He looks at you so fondly when he pulls back that you think your heart might melt. The sweet words and kisses between you two are halted by the healer arriving with a bag full of supplies.

“Caesar, I will need room to work,” The healer politely says, hinting at Commodus to back away. Only partially following the advice given to him, he is still close enough to hold your hand while the healer gets to work. You sit on the edge of the bed, with the healer sitting between your legs on a chair. Commodus is beside you, watching over the process like a hawk.

“You are lucky, my lady. The wound on your leg has slowed its bleeding, and the cuts have stopped bleeding as well. I will need to stitch your thigh closed however, and apply some herbs before wrapping. It will be a painful process so I suggest holding onto something,” He says, before pulling out the necessary items to clean and close the wound. He is silent as he works, hands steady and careful. Commodus is gripping your hand more tightly than you grip his, as the pain of being stitched is nothing compared to the pain you felt when the dagger was being pulled out. The healer works fast, closing the wound in mere minutes after starting the process. The herbs he rubs onto the now closed wound sting for a brief moment, but then a cooling sensation overtakes the burning pain.

“I am rubbing your wound with a pain reliever and a cleanser to ward off infections,” He explains, reaching for bandages to wrap around your leg. He wraps it tight enough to be secure, but not tight enough that it feels uncomfortable. Commodus places a chaste kiss to your hair while the healer ties, a reward almost for being so calm. Moving to the latin carved into your stomach, the healer sighs as he reads it.

“Nemini. Most likely trying to write nemini parco,” He says, rummaging around in his bag to find something. Commodus tilts his head at hearing the words, confusion plastered across his face.

"What does that phrase mean, medicus?” Commodus asks, assuming that the healer knows what it means since it brought it up in the first place.

“It means ‘I spare no one’, my lord. A fitting phrase for a killer seeking to end the life of The Emperor and Empress of Rome,” He explains, pausing when he found the correct item he was searching for. Taking it out, it appears to be some sort of jar of salve. He opens the jar, lifting the contents up to his nose and smelling. Sensing that he has the right one, he scoops out some of the salve and warms it up between his hands. Commodus just nods at his words, satisfied with the explanation he had given. You remain silent, still in shock that someone wanted to carve those words into your body.

“And please, do not refer to me as medicus. I’d prefer you’d use my given name, for it will make things easier for when I need to come back and redress your wounds,” He says, no ill intent hidden behind his tone and word choice. He goes to spread the now warm salve on the carvings on your stomach. The blood clotted and dried at this point, but the sting still remains.

“Then what is your name?” You ask with a wince, finally able to gather the energy to speak up due to the herbs numbing some of the pain from your thigh.

“It is Atticus, my lady,” He replies, warming up more salve to spread upon your cheek and neck. His hands are gentle as he does so, wanting to not irritate the cuts further. You can feel the possessiveness radiating off Commodus as he does so. The grasp on your hand tightening and his body shifting closer to yours in an effort to claim you silently. He remains this way until Atticus finishes the last bandage.

“The wound on your thigh will unfortunately scar, and the one on your stomach has a chance to as well. The other two will not,” Atticus explains, packing away his various medical supplies. The news does not shock you, nor it does startle you. But it still causes an ache to form in your chest at the thought of being forever marked by that man. Commodus gently pulls you into his side, desperately wanting to show you some sort of affection but disliking the fact that Atticus was still here.

“I will need to replace the bandages daily for a week or two, but then it should be fine to go without. She will require lots of rest, and minimal strain placement on her thigh, ” Atticus says, mostly to Commodus, before standing up to leave the room. You and Commodus both give him thanks for his quick and effective work, and rise from the bed. You can feel a tug on your stitches when you fully stand, but no pain due to the herbs taking full effect. When Atticus is fully out of sight, Commodus turns to you and quickly pulls you into his chest. The hug is almost suffocating, but it is welcomed after the night you two had been through.

“You will stay with me in my chambers from now on. I will hear no excuses or refusal,” He whispers, hand moving up to thread itself into your hair and bring you closer. Gentle kisses are placed along your neck and up to your lips. Yet another sweet kiss is placed upon them, but it’s done so quickly it’s gone before you could respond. Releasing you from his hold, Commodus places one arm around your upper back and another just above your knees. He swiftly picks you up bridal style, a small yelp leaving you in the process. His sight is set upon your face once more, cerulean eyes boring into yours.

“I wasn’t lying when I said ‘I love you’,” He comments with a slight frown, deep rooted insecurities rearing their ugly heads at the worst moment possible. You give him a gentle smile, nothing but happiness and love shining through it.

“I wasn’t either,” You reassure, arms winding their way behind his neck. Commodus gives you a small smile, insecurities being pruned back at your words. But they will regrow, as they always do. At least you will be there, cutting them down.

i apologize for nothing. but this is not the end of the series! far from it in fact! i still have so much i wanna do with these two. plus the wedding hasn't happened yet.... lots to do.

thank you for reading all these chapters ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

tag list: @capitanostella , @five-miles-over

#gladiator #gladiator (2000)#emperor commodus #commodus #commodus x reader #emperor commodus x reader #I wasn't lying series

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topochicoslut · 7 months ago

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everybody wants to rule the world: prologue

fic synopsis: A young woman is sent on what is sure to be a suicide mission to spy on Ryomen Sukuna by a rival curse user who has heard rumors that the infamous King of Curses might have found the secret to true immortality

pairing: ryomen sukuna x fem!reader rating: 18+ ONLY!!!!!! MDNI!!!! IF I CATCH YOU, I'LL BLOCK YOU!!! word count: 1.1k

warnings: none for this chapter! but overall fic warnings include but are not limited to the following- slow burn, enemies to lovers, eventual smut/p0rn with plot, descriptions of violence and gore, language, horror elements, morally grey characters, me having an aneurysm while trying to properly describe cursed techniques, true form sukuna (eventually), etc etc. each chapter will have the appropriate content warnings added to them based on subject matter : )

a/n: hiiiii! so this idea has been bumping around in my head for the past few weeks, and I finally decided to do something about it. idk the world has just been kinda crazy lately, so I figured why not write something super self indulgent about sukuna to help take my mind off of things. this is just the prologue, the next few chapters should be dropping soon-ish after this. I just need to tidy some things up (aka edit the fuck out of everything i’ve written so far🫠🥲). just a couple of quick things- this is a Heian era AU fic, and while I did do a lil research before I started writing this, there will probably still be a couple of historical inaccuracies here and there. so for that I just wanna apologize in advance and say my bad. I have the entire story outlined, including the current number of chapters it will probably take to wrap everything up, but considering this whole thing has sort of taken a life of its own at this point idk what to expect anymore lol. I'll do my best to update it when I can based on life and work and everything else. !!!please note!!!: the first few chapters focus more so on reader's back story and world building, so sukuna won't make his first full appearance right away, but he IS mentioned periodically leading up to that. so please bear with me until he arrives in all his glory lol. anyway, thanks for everyone who has shown interest in this story since I first posted about it the other day! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it 🖤 divider by sweetmelodygraphics

Southern Japan, 888 AD

Your head was pounding when you woke up. Just as it had been ever since you’d arrived at the temple.

Well, arrived was too kind a way to describe what had really happened. Being forcibly kidnapped and imprisoned was a much more accurate description of how you had landed in your current situation. But the specifics didn’t really seem to matter all that much anymore.

Nothing did really.

You were still laid out in the middle of the floor of the small shrine you’d been confined to for the past two- or maybe it was four?- days now. You eyed the carafe of water to your right, and if you weren’t feeling so groggy and sick you would’ve crawled over to it and gulped it down. Hoping that the refreshing chill of it would help clear your head finally.

But moving felt impossible, and you were so, so tired.

A few days ago sleep would’ve been a welcome escape for you, but now it was just another prison you were stuck in thanks to the numerous talismans that were hanging on the walls around you. They had been smart to not leave any light sources in the room with you, or else you would have grabbed the nearest torch and burned them all to ash so you could try and make a run for it. But the only source of light you had came from the moonbeams that were shining in through the tiny window above you.

The air was thick with smoke from the incense that had been burning ever since you’d been sealed in this room. Its sickly sweet aroma had made you retch when you first arrived, but now all it did was keep your mind fuzzy and your body heavy and sluggish. That paired with the ofuda that hung from floor to ceiling was just another tool used to keep you subdued and prevent any hope you had of escape. You couldn’t cross the threshold of the shrine even if you could get your body to cooperate.

The faint chittering sound coming from the shadows let you know you were not alone. But you couldn’t bring yourself to look in the direction they were coming from. You didn’t want to see the empty black eyes of the creatures that had been assigned to watch your every move day and night. Not when you now knew the sickening truth behind how Hisato had created them. Binding dead flesh and bone together with-

You couldn’t even think of it.

Your former master had never been one to shy away from showing the world exactly what kind of man he was. You knew that he was cold and cruel when you had willingly joined his side all those years ago. But somehow even you hadn’t thought he would be capable of such grotesque acts of depravity in his quest for immortality.

Or perhaps deep down you’d known all along what sort of monster he truly was, choosing instead to ignore it by willfully turning a blind eye to his unhinged cruelty because of the protection and comfort that had been provided to you by dutifully serving under him for so long.

You had been a fool.

If Sukuna were here, he would wholeheartedly agree with you.

He was somehow the one thing you could still see perfectly clear in your mind’s eye. You pictured him standing in this small room with you, towering over your limp body, his tattooed arms crossed over his broad chest as he glowered down at you with those fiery eyes of his. Challenging you to get up off your ass and do something. To fight like your life depended on it, because it did.

‘Foolish, pitiful, girl,’ He’d say. ‘This is pathetic. You’re being pathetic.’

You’d honestly give anything to hear him say those words to you right now, and the thought had you suddenly giggling to yourself. You didn’t care that your laughter was bordering on hysterical, but it was just so bitterly ironic that you found yourself wishing that the King of Curses was here to mock and scold you, considering that just a few months ago you had slapped him as hard as you could right across his face for insulting you and calling you names. It was funny how things had changed between the two of you in such a short amount of time.

The knowledge that you might never get to be near him again weighed on you. To hear him tut under his breath at you for bothering him with your ‘useless blabbering’ even though he was the one who so often sought you out. To feel his blazing red eyes follow you from across a room. To be overcome with the heat of his large body moving in tandem over yours. If you closed your eyes you could almost taste the sweat of his skin, and smell the rich, musky, scent of cedar and smoke from the incense that filled his chambers. In your mind it was so sharp it could almost mask the disgusting smell of the incense in your prison.

Almost.

You wished you could warn him about Hisato. You wished you could go to him and let him know that you were alive. You wished you could tell him where he could find you. You wished you could tell him to stay far, far, away. Because even if Sukuna did somehow manage to find you, even if he did somehow arrive here and challenge Hisato, there was only a limited window before the ritual would begin, and if Hisato was successful, not even Sukuna would be able to grant him a true death like he deserved.

In the distance you heard the sudden ringing of the large bronze bell that lived in the heart of the temple. It rang loud and clear- once, twice, and then a third and final time. Despite your distance from it, you felt your bones rattle with every swing of its giant body.

The chattering from Hisato’s creatures resumed, and this time it was feverish and loud. Their little shrieks and screams filled the room, and you could hear their talons scraping against the wooden floor as they moved their decaying bodies in excitement.

The moonlight that shone into your room was brighter than it had been only moments before. It pierced through the thick wisps of smoke that filled the air like a sword cutting through a blade of grass. You turned your head and stared out the window as you watched as the edges of the full moon that hung so heavily in the night sky began to twinge with red. Red like blood. Red like Sukuna's eyes.

It was time.

tag list: @after-laughter-come-tears @officialholyagua @clp-84

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna fanfic #sukuna fanfic #sukuna fic #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna smut #jjk fanfic #everybody wants to rule the world fic #topochico writes things #can’t believe i’m writing fics again after a nearly three year hiatus #hopefully this doesn’t suck too bad lol

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softpascalito · 7 months ago

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Dulcissima I Marcus Acacius x Vestal!Reader I Chapter III

! This Fic contains major spoilers for Gladiator II ! Proceed with caution !

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Vestal Virgin Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 12k+ Tags: Secret Relationship, Vestal Virgins, Religious Guilt, Gladiator fights, Gladiator II compliant (more or less), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Ancient Rome, Age Difference, Slow Burn (ish), Injury, Kissing, Historical Inaccuracy, More tags to be added (!)

AO3 // Series Masterlist // Masterlist // Fic Playlist

notes: ! last major spoiler warning for gladiator II below the cut !

we finally get a little glimpse into the life of the vestals in this chapter. i'm trying to write this in a way that requires no prior knowledge of them, but if it sounds interesting to you, i'd highly recommend reading up on them, it's very interesting! also wanted to mention from here on we will dive into how acacius and our vestal get to know each other (until we reach the plot of gladiator II again). enjoy! <3

vestal (vigins) - priestesses of vesta, virgin goddess of Rome's sacred flame dulcissima - sweetest (fond nickname) vero - yes paludamentum - a cloak worn by high ranking military officials bonam noctem - good night

Chapter III

211 AD

You whisper small apologies under your breath as you carefully pierce the needle through Acacius' skin, feeling him tremble under your touch. “Only one more, then I am done. I promise,” you mumble, casting an anxious glance at his face and the cold sweat building on his forehead. “Take a deep breath. Stay with me, vero?”

He nods, his voice rumbling deep in his chest when he speaks up. “I always stay with you.”

“That is not what I meant,” you mumble back and wince as he tenses at the last stitch. You quickly tie the loose ends of the thread together and lift the wet rag to his arm again, wiping down the fresh blood that's trickling from the wound. It’s not too much but you do not need to be a medicus to know that he has lost too much of it today.

Your hands shake as you reach for your gown, ripping a long shred off it. Acacius raises his head at the noise, staring at you. “What is this for?”

“What do you think it is for? That wound cannot stay unprotected.” You reach around his arm, beginning to tightly wrap the linen around it, soon covering the red stains that slowly appear on the first few layers. You have seen him wounded–in fact, you can barely recall a time where he has been completely healthy. But you haven't seen him so weak before. His head keeps drooping, like he will fall asleep in his seated position in mere moments.

With a satisfied nod you tie the bandage into place, nudging the General's shoulder as you make to stand. “Acacius.”

Soft brown eyes stare up at yours, a sliver of something odd in them. It only lasts a moment–then he shakes his head as if to get rid of the ill feeling settling over his body. “You have to go.”

“I cannot leave you alone when you are like this. You need someone to watch over you. You’ve lost blood and the wound–” You are cut off by a strong arm curling around your waist, pulling you down onto his lap like it costs him no effort at all. At least he is limiting his movements to his unwounded arm.

“Acacius–” Before you have a chance to speak properly, his lips crash onto yours. The kiss tastes of blood and wine and desperation. You do not have it in you to put up any resistance, instead letting him take what he so clearly needs in this moment. Your hand creeps up his chest, ghosting over his red tunic and the exposed skin of his neck until you reach his hair. A small sigh travels from your mouth into his quite involuntarily when one of his soft curls wraps around your index finger. The world could crash and burn around you. He would still find time to press his lips onto yours, to hold you tight.

When he pulls back, you’re both panting, his chest rising and falling next to you. His arm is still wrapped tightly around your waist and you reach for his hand, intertwining it with your free one. A squeeze is his immediate response. His eyes fly back and forth between your eyes and you can practically feel his words coming. You’re half tempted to kiss him again, just to keep him from speaking.

“Dulcissima, I need you to listen to me.” You open your mouth to argue but he gives a firm shake of his head. “No. There is no time. I need you to take the path at the back of the house. Go back to the Temple. If anything happens–”

“What would happen?” You interrupt, your voice shaking slightly. Your stomach lurches slightly as you think back to what he has told you mere weeks before. His troops, that will be landing in Ostia and marching towards Rome.

“If there are riots–”

“No. I'm not leaving you. Not now,” you choke out, raising your voice slightly. It echoes eerily in the otherwise silent atrium. You know your tears are as imminent as the riots outside the door.

“If there are riots–” Acacius repeats, and you hate how controlled and stern his voice sounds. You aren't one of his soldiers. Yet he speaks to you like one. You’re ready to follow him no matter where he goes. But he is not your General. “–I will personally make sure some of our best soldiers are sent to protect you and the others. We have always protected the Vestals with our lives, you know we have.”

A choked sound leaves your throat because he is already speaking like a man who doesn't plan to return in the morning. Acacius pulls you in closer, wrapping both arms around your trembling form. His dried blood leaves stains on the linen of your white dress. No matter how careful he is with his hands, he always leaves you stained. Red, no matter where he goes. He turns flourishing cities into battlefields and their citizens into grievers. Wives into widows, children into orphans.

No more.

“Rome will fall. Won’t it?” You whisper into his chest and you feel him sway slightly as he shakes his head. He takes a deep breath before nudging your head back just enough to press his forehead against yours.

“No. The Emperors will fall. Rome will rise out of their ashes.”

His face tells you that he is speaking the truth. And this is precisely what scares you. “I want to stay with you. You cannot make me leave,” you whimper, squeezing his hand so tight that it must hurt. He presses one last kiss to your forehead before nudging you up with his leg, forcing you to stand again.

“Truthfully, I cannot make you. I can only ask.” A sad smile decorates his lips as he looks up at you, his eyes gone soft. “Besides, it is bad luck to touch someone marked for death, dulcissima. You of all people should know that.”

***

209 AD

You carefully balance the slender pot of water between your hands, the ceramic cold against your fingertips. Tending to the herb garden is one of your preferred duties, allowing you to feel the warmth of the sun on your skin while you work. The temple is never cold, not with the fire of Rome burning in its middle. But the longer your shifts become, the more weary you become of the lack of the sky and sun above.

Tipping the pot over ever so slightly, you let a thin string of water flow down onto the row of small herbs that stick out of the ground. Your head tilts upward towards a blue sky, just enough to peek over the roof of the house that you and the other Vestals live in, located right next to the temple of Vesta–and conveniently at the foot of Palatine Hill.

You can see the General’s–no, you mentally correct yourself, remembering your conversation with him–Lucilla’s house from here, at least the part that is not hidden by trees. You haven't seen him again since taking his will and storing it safely in one of the upper chambers, labeling it carefully and placing it on its assigned shelf, to be retrieved only in one of two cases–on his command or his death. The thought makes you shiver and you mumble a quiet prayer for him to the earth below you.

You see people, mostly women, come to the temple to pray to Vesta. To ask the goddess of the house and hearth for safety, for enough food on their table, for the health of their family. You pray with them, of course. You pray for each and every citizen of Rome. But you remember what one of the older Vestals said to you when you arrived at the house as a mere child, picked for nearly a lifetime of service.

Her eyes had been kind as she had bent down, adjusting the veil that was still much too big on your form.

“She is not just in the flame, my child. She is in the smoke that rises above and the earth that stretches below. Vesta will always hear you. She will always be near.”

You bow your head towards the earth at that, setting the pot aside to instead place your hands between the green and brown, fingertips grazing the earth that feeds you.

It is one of your tasks to pray for all of Rome, often with a special few words for the soldiers, to ask Vesta for their safe and victorious return. But the image in front of your eyes shifts as you speak the prayer that falls off your lips so naturally. It summons the memory of the gentle, brown eyes that promised you their trust.

Keep him safe.

It is a prayer you repeat over and over again, sending it into the earth as well as the air as you kneel under the roman sun, asking for the gods to hear you.

When you raise your head again, squinting slightly as your eyes adjust once more to the brightness of the day, he is there.

You called on the gods. But it is Acacius who has appeared.

You see him taking slow steps through his garden, one hand outstretched as he lets it brush past the fields of lavender. Your own hand, still tucked into the bed below you, moves against the herbs absent-mindedly as your eyes stay fixed on the small figure above the Forum Romanum.

He’s too far away to make out his expression–or even his face. But the broad shoulders, the red paludamentum, the gentleness with which he carries himself–they all let you know it is Acacius you’re looking at. It’s like he has heard your prayers and instead of waiting for one of the gods to answer, he has taken them upon himself.

It happens more frequently after that. The courtyard garden of the Vestals spans almost the entire length of the house, with two small pools lowered into the ground on each side. You pass around it by day and by night and your gaze flies between the columns and upward more frequently than ever.

Just in passing, of course. Just for reassurance. A constant, a joyful moment when you spot his figure. A pinch of something else in your stomach, something you force yourself to ignore, when you see Lucilla's robes billowing in the wind while she walks beside him. He rarely wears his armour, but when he does, it glistens in the sun, reflecting the rays of light, almost blinding.

You often wonder what he is thinking about. If he is pondering the next campaign, possibly even politics, though you have rarely heard about him being involved in them. He strikes you more as a soldier than a politician. A man as loyal to his army as he is to the Emperors.

“Senator Gracchus told me that they are moving some troops south,” Severa announces as you settle down for your evening meal. She is about your age, having been chosen in the same year as you. And she has taken the most interest in politics out of all the current six priestesses, often volunteering to deliver and pick up scrolls from the palace or the senate to hear the news of the day.

“Did he say why?” You ask as you reach for the carafe of wine, motioning towards her glass and, at her nod, pouring her some. You repeat the motion with your own glass before leaning back again.

“No. But I suppose the people further south are not happy.” Her voice drops slightly as she speaks. “They do not wish to risk an uprising, that I am sure of.” You nod carefully, casting a glance to the other side of the room where the two eldest vestals are taking their meal. It is not your duty to meddle in politics. You are the guardians of the hearth of Rome. Day and night, one of you is always in the temple, watching over the flame. Making sure it does not burn low.

If extinguished, it is not just the fall for the Vestals. It predicts the fall of Rome. So now more than ever, you do your duty carefully.

“May I ask you something?” Severa leans towards you, always keeping one careful eye on the others. Making sure neither of you are drawing attention to yourself.

You nod, adjusting your voice to her level as you set down your glass. “Of course. Is something the matter?”

She gives a quick, short shake of her head. “No, not the matter. I was just curious–” You raise a brow at that, though you both know neither of you mean each other harm. “Curiosity is a dangerous trait for a Vestal.”

“Curiousity is a dangerous trait for any woman,” Severa whispers back, lowering her eyes onto the floor. You understand why. It is not easy to speak ill of something. It is simply not in your nature. It goes against the years of teaching you have sat through. “You brought the will of the General, did you not?”

You feel your cheeks heat slightly at the mention of Acacius and shift onto your side, hoping that the dim light inside the room hides the way your face flushes. “Yes. The first one I collected, actually.”

“You collect Generals now?”

Neither of you can successfully stifle the giggles that follow her question and you quickly bow your head, just as one of the older Vestals calls out to you. “If you are finished with your meal, please retire to your quarters and get some rest.” You both nod, whispering apologies into their direction as you stand up.

“I am to guard the flame tonight,” Severa adds softly and the other of the two women nods.

“Then you may take your fellow priestess to her quarters and head to the Temple after.” You mumble your good nights to the others, walking along the courtyard in silence. The noise of cicadas fills the night that has settled over the valley. When you stop outside the door to your cubiculum, you pause. “Why did you ask about the General?”

For a moment, you think Severa will not answer, her shoulders shrugging slightly as if to dismiss her prior interest. “I heard some of the Senators speak of him. I merely wondered how he seemed to you.”

“Kind,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. He was kind to me.

Her brows furrow slightly but then she nods, giving you a gentle smile. “I better go and not leave the others waiting. Bonam noctem.”

“Bonam noctem,” you repeat quietly. A few moments later, you pull your door closed behind you and begin to undress. When you crawl into the bed placed near the far end of the room, your mind is already distracted and you allow your thoughts to slip out of the small window and rush up the hill. They settle between a field of lavender and wait for a light to appear in one of the windows of the house, just as you extinguish yours.

! when commenting or reblogging, please make sure to hide spoilers from others !

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cirilla-fiona-riannon · 8 months ago

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Chapter 1 Part 2 Preview

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies. Not a full translation.

Mitsuhide: "Oh? It seems we have a guest."

Sasuke: "Pardon the intrusion. Lord Kenshin."

(Sasuke!)

While everyone's attention shifted, Sasuke casually walked in from the hallway.

Kenshin: "You're late. You finally caught up."

Sasuke: "Please don't go ahead on your own. Stalling the guards was pretty tricky."

Kenshin: "Struggling against just a few opponents? Pathetic."

Sasuke: "Being a ninja in this chaotic era is one of the worst jobs ever."

Sasuke: "But at least I got to meet my idol, Tokugawa Ieyasu, so I guess it's all good."

Ieyasu: "Huh? I think I just heard my name."

Sasuke: "Yes, can I shake your hand?"

Ieyasu: "Why are you holding out your hand so seriously? There's no way that's happening."

(Oh yeah, Sasuke's a history buff and a huge fan of Ieyasu.)

Kenshin gave Sasuke a piercing glare.

Kenshin: "Sasuke, stop wasting time. Where's Kanetsugu?"

Sasuke: "Kanetsugu is..."

Sasuke glanced towards the hallway, and someone gracefully entered the room.

Kanetsugu: "Where's Lord Kenshin?"

Kanetsugu: "Hm? The sliding doors are broken. Was there an attack?"

(This is my first time seeing Kanetsugu.)

Kanetsugu looked down at the broken sliding door as Ieyasu let out a sigh.

Ieyasu: "That's the work of your lord, you know?"

Kanetsugu: "I see. The blade technique is impressive."

Mitsunari: "Yes, it looks like the sharpness has been improved even more since the last time I saw it on the battlefield."

Ieyasu: "Don't start analyzing the door."

Sasuke: "This is serious. This is a valuable sliding door and a historical artifact."

Sasuke: "To the members of the Oda army, I'm really sorry."

Nobunaga: "You're the one apologizing?"

Sasuke: "Well, my boss would never apologize even if the world turned upside down, so I might as well apologize on his behalf."

Nobunaga: "That's an unusual statement. Interesting."

Nobunaga: "How about you join the Oda army as a ninja?"

Kenshin: "Oh? If you're trying to pick a fight, I'll gladly accept."

Sasuke: "Headhunting, huh? I'm honored. But first, let's use this for now."

Sasuke pulled out of his pocket a round, brown-shaped thing.

(Is that the kind of packing tape that's always found at hardware stores!?)

Hideyoshi: "Hey, what on earth are you planning to do in someone else's castle?"

Sasuke: "Don't worry. I'm just going to repair it."

Kanetsugu: "How exactly are you going to use that tool?"

Kanetsugu curiously crowded around Sasuke.

Sasuke: "This is something I recently developed, the Sticks-to-Anything Tape."

Sasuke: "It's a strong adhesive applied to a sturdy strip of paper."

(He's saying this so casually.)

Mai: "You can even make things like that? As expected from you, Sasuke!"

Sasuke: "Thank you; I have my background in astrophysics to thank."

Sasuke: "By the way, I originally came up with this at Yukimura's request to keep Lord Shingen from stealing sweets. Though that plan ended up being scrapped."

(Better not to wonder how he planned to stop Shingen with it.)

Sasuke: "Lord Hideyoshi, could you hold this for me?"

Hideyoshi: "Hmm? Like this?"

Sasuke: "Thanks. Kanetsugu, you hold that side."

Kanetsugu: "Why me? Hey, isn't it a bit off? Measure it precisely."

Sasuke: "Understood. Trying to minimize the area to avoid damaging a national treasure painting is tricky."

Kanetsugu: "Then, Keiji, you lend a hand too."

Keiji: "Alrighty!"

Masamune: "Need my help as well?"

Kanetsugu: "One-Eyed Dragon, I didn't say you could step into my view."

Masamune: "No need to be so wary."

Kanetsugu: "Don't speak to me so casually."

(I'm definitely not imagining Kanetsugu giving Masamune that glare.)

Hideyoshi: "Mitsuhide, stop grinning over there and help."

Mitsuhide: "Sorry, but I'm far too busy cheering you on."

Hideyoshi: "You're obviously just relaxing."

Mitsunari: "Then I'll help. I just need to put the adhesive here, right?"

Ieyasu: "Great, now I've got that thing on my sleeve. Don't touch me, and don't come near me!"

(Oh no! Ieyasu's kimono is all messed up.)

Still, the work somehow progressed, and Sasuke wiped the sweat from his forehead when he finished applying the tape.

Sasuke: "Phew, I managed to fix it somehow, thanks to everyone's help."

Kanetsugu: "The strength looks sufficient."

(I'd heard Kanetsugu's name many times as Kenshin's brilliant retainer, but…)

This was my first time meeting him in person.

(He looks so unapproachable, but since I finally got to meet him, I should introduce myself.)

Mai: "Kanetsugu, nice to meet you. My name's Mai."

As I stepped closer and extended my hand, Kanetsugu coldly avoided it.

Kanetsugu: "I haven't yet acknowledged you."

Mai: "W-What?"

(Hasn't acknowledged me?)

Startled by his harsh words, I returned his gaze, looking into his purple eyes.

Mai: "Could you tell me why? If I've made a mistake, I'll correct it."

Kanetsugu: "Hmph."

Kanetsugu: "I have no intention of accepting that you've become the lover of Lord Kenshin."

(That's the reason?)

(Wait, no, that's really unreasonable!)

Kenshin: "Kanetsugu."

Kanetsugu: "I apologize. Please forgive my immaturity in questioning my lord's thoughts."

Kanetsugu bowed his head quietly under Kenshin's low reprimanding voice.

Nobunaga: "Oh, so the strategist of Uesugi isn't fond of Mai?"

Hideyoshi: "What's wrong with our Mai? Go on, say it!"

Masamune: "We can't just let someone like him be around Mai, can we?"

Ieyasu: "Masamune, you're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Mitsuhide: "If you don't find this amusing, there's something wrong with you."

The warlords exchanged light banter, but their gazes were intimidating, creating a tense atmosphere.

Mitsunari: "Lord Kanetsugu, Lady Mai is a wonderful person."

Keiji: "I just met her, but I think so too."

Sasuke: "Everyone in the Oda army, you're all being overly protective; ahem, I mean, please calm down."

(He said overly protective.)

Sasuke: "To put it simply, Kanetsugu worships Lord Kenshin, so it doesn't matter who becomes his lover."

Sasuke: "He doesn't particularly dislike Mai, so please understand that."

(I've heard rumors about his devotion.)

(Apparently, Kanetsugu's loyalty is absolute; he's been completely devoted to Kenshin since he was young.)

Kanetsugu: "You're saying unnecessary things."

Facing the disgruntled Kanetsugu, Sasuke nonchalantly pushed up the bridge of his glasses.

Sasuke: "Kanetsugu is just being Kanetsugu."

Sasuke: "He's not a mother-in-law who refuses to accept a bride based on personal feelings."

Kenshin: "Bride, huh? That has a nice ring to it. Say it again."

Kenshin pulled me close and wrapped his arms around me from behind.

Kenshin: "You think so too, don't you, Mai?"

#ikesen translations #ikemen sengoku #ikesen jp #ikesen #ikesen kenshin #kenshin uesugi #cybird #otome

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hyzenthlayroseart · 1 month ago

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I wanted to save these for when I was done with the whole project but I have a feeling the next few entries will take a long time to make since each era has so many movies (Renaissance Era, Experimental Era and the Modern Era) and I got impatient with myself so I'm posting what's done so far.

So I decided to do a project where I draw films from each Disney era together. For those who don't know about Disney's animation eras, here's a good guide: https://www.bfi.org.uk/features/many-merry-eras-disney

The Renaissance Era had to be split into two drawings, I have a feeling the next two eras will have to be split into two or more drawings as well.

So! In the previous era Disney was in a very, very low place. However, that would all change in 1989 with the release of The Little Mermaid. The film was a massive success both critically and commercially, and it even won two Oscars (Best Original Song for "Under the Sea" and Best Original Score).

Their next film was actually the first sequel produced by Walt Disney Feature Animation. While the film got good reviews, it sadly didn't earn quite as much as The Little Mermaid (and to this day it's sadly the least-remembered from this era). It still has a notable role in Disney animation's history as it was their first animated film to use their new software system CAPS (Computer Animation Production System, a digital ink and paint system that would be used for all Renaissance films that came after).

Massive critical and commercial success would come back with Beauty and the Beast, so successful in fact that it was nominated for Best Picture (the Best Animated Film category didn't exist yet). It may not have won Best Picture but the fact that it was nominated in the first place is a huge deal. It did, however, win Best Original Score and Best Original Song (for the titular song "Beauty and the Beast").

Aladdin was the next film and would too go on to become a massive success, and yes, once again ended up scoring Oscars for Best Original Score and Best Original Song ("A Whole New World"). Now, I feel like I can't discuss Aladdin without bringing up Robin Williams. He's the most hilarious part of the film and is absolutely iconic as Genie, however, behind the scenes there was drama between him and Disney. You see, when Robin Williams was approached for the role, he agreed to do it on the condition that his name nor his image be used for marketing and that Genie takes up no more than 25% of the posters. Do you think Disney kept their promise? If you answered "no", then you are correct. And while Robin Williams's name wasn't used in advertisements for the film, his voice as Genie was still being used to advertise the movie and sell toys, without paying him additional money. Robin Williams was so upset over this (and rightfully so), that he refused to reprise his role for the direct-to-video sequel, however, this conflict has a happy ending because when CEO Jeffery Katzenberg (who was CEO when this fiasco happened) was replaced by Joe Roth, Roth organized a public apology to Robin Williams, leading to him even returning to voice Genie in another direct-to-video sequel for the film.

The next film was The Lion King, and of course, it was a massive success in every way, and you guessed it, also went on to win Oscars for Best Original Score and Best Original Song ("Can You Feel The Love Tonight").

Pocahontas came next, a very fictionalized film based on the real Pocahontas and John Smith (very, very, VERY loosely based on the real Pocahontas and John Smith, I should say). This film ended up getting mixed reviews, which is unsurprising given its historical inaccuracies. I try not to inject my own opinions into these posts too much but I just feel like adding that I loved the film as a kid, but now that I'm an adult and know the real history about Pocahontas (including the fact that she was estimated to be around 10, 11 or 12 when she met John Smith, who was in his twenties), I don't think I feel comfortable giving it a rewatch anytime soon. I will say, however, that it'll always be a beautifully animated film and "Just Around the Riverbend" and especially "Colors of the Wind" will always be great songs ("Colors of the Wind even won Best Original Song).

Interestingly, Jeffery Katzenberg hoped that Pocahontas would be the studio's next chance at getting nominated for Best Picture. On the other hand, he thought The Lion King (they were in development at the same time) was more "experimental", and so he considered Pocahontas the "A-team" project and The Lion King the "B-team" project. And as we all know by now, the opposite ended up happening in regards to which one was the bigger success.

The next film was The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and while it did have a lower box office success than Pocahontas, it was a bigger critical success. Hercules ended up having an even lower box office reception than Hunchback, but still received postive reviews. Mulan would go on to be another critical and commercial success, as did Tarzan (as well as an Oscar for Best Original Song for "You'll Be in My Heart").

One noticeable trend amongst the Renaissance Era was the music becoming more Broadway-inspired. This can largely be credited to Alan Menken and the late great Howard Ashman, who collaborated on Broadway together prior to collaborating at Disney, including creating the musical version of Little Shop of Horrors. The films they collaborated on for Disney was The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast and Aladdin, in fact it was Howard Ashman who pitched the idea of making Aladdin into an animated musical to Disney.

Tragically, Howard Ashman was diagnosed with AIDS all the way back when he was working on The Little Mermaid, and when his disease got more severe by the time Beauty and the Beast was in production, Disney accommodated him by creating a production unit near his home so he could continue to work on the film while receiving treatment. Unfortunately, he died before the film was completed. Disney dedicated Beauty and the Beast to his memory, and even put this beautiful tribute in the end credits of the film: To our friend, Howard, who gave a mermaid her voice and a beast his soul, we will be forever grateful. Howard Ashman 1950-1991 (This always gets to me 🥺).

Also, I feel like I can't mention Howard Ashman without bringing this up, there's an excellent documentary about him on Disney Plus, simply called Howard that I definitely recommend. If you don't have Disney Plus but are still interested you can watch here. Back in 2023 it was revealed that Disney was going to remove a bunch of stuff from the platform to "cut costs" (🙄), and that included Howard, but of course that lead to extreme outcry, ESPECIALLY since it would be removed on the eve of Pride Month and Howard Ashman was a gay man, so that made the timing even worse. Thankfully the backlash worked and the documentary is still there to this day. I do still hope it gets a Blu-ray release eventually.

This era truly was a renaissance, absolutely one of the most magical periods in Disney's animation history.

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#fan art #disney #disney renaissance #the little mermaid #the rescuers down under #beauty and the beast #aladdin #the lion king #pocahontas #the hunchback of notre dame #hercules #mulan #tarzan

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obessedwithfictionalmen · 1 year ago

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I'll come pick it up after pt.4

John Egan X Female! Reader

Sumarry: The morning of the mission, Bucky becomes overprotective of HIS nurse.

Warning: Historical inaccuracies/ Swearing/ insults/ blood/ violence/ use of Y/n/ crying/

Word count: 1,8k

When they both went to sleep that night, they kept thinking about what just happened in the woman’s office. They almost had sex, in her office. Bucky was thinking about her hand on his crotch, and his hand on her breast. And he kept thinking about the fact that she put his hand there. His jacket had her scent, it drove him mad. Buck was apologizing for interrupting them, he felt bad. ‘’Buck, I told you many times, it’s okay. You’re right, I have to sleep. I’m not mad at you, and I don’t think Y/n’s mad either’’ he said to his friend. ‘’So, Elodie, uh, what did you say to her?’’ they talked about the young nurse, how Buck was nervous to talk to her, but he went anyway.

Y/n was tossing and turning, she couldn’t sleep. Egan’s touch was still in her mind, she couldn’t get him off her mind. So, she got up, she was dress in her night gown. She put a vest on top of it, so if she got cold, she could have something to warm her up. She made her way to the kitchen, to take an apple and something non alcoholic to drink. When she entered the kitchen, there was a light on. Curious, she made her way to the light, cautiously she announced herself. ‘’Hello?’’ a voice responded. She entered the kitchen to find Harry Crosby. ‘’Oh, Harry, it’s you.’’ She said relived. ‘’Didn’t mean to scare you, what are you doing up at this time?’’ he asked. ‘’Can’t sleep, you?’’ ‘’Same thing’’ they both smiled at each other. ‘’I saw you, at the party, but you were busy with Egan, I didn’t want to interrupt’’ he starts. ‘’How are you adapting to the base?’’ he asks. ‘’It’s fine, the girls are amazing, and the soldiers are, welcoming.’’ She smiled at the last word she pronounced. ‘’I heard that you got the eyes of Egan. Is that why you were with him all night’’ Y/n chuckles and blush a little. Crosby’s eyes went on the necklace she was wearing. ‘’And why you’re wearing his necklace, what’s going on between the two of you?’’ She looked at her friend. ‘’Honestly, Croz, I have no idea. I just know that there’s a tension between us and yeah.’’ She spoke. For the record, she had no idea what her relationship with Bucky was. ‘’Just be careful, he’s a lady’s men’’ he warned her. ‘’Trust me, I know that, but thank you for caring.’’ She was thankful for Harry Crosby. When he came in her office for the first time, it was because he kept vomiting when he was in the air. After that, he came back to tell her that the medicine she gave him, worked. They kept talking, but they were great friends, since he was married, Y/n didn’t have to worry about him making a move on her.

Y/n woke up at 4:30 am, she and her nurse had to make breakfast for the soldiers. She put on her blue uniform, her hair was still in the braid crown from yesterday, so she kept it that way. When the nurses came in the kitchen, they were surprised to see Gale Cleven already there. Elodie smiled at him, Meatball, as usual, went to see Y/n. ‘’Hi doggie! How are you!’’ she petted the animal, while his owner came towards her. ‘’Good morning, Y/n, can I speak with you?’’ he asked. ‘’Sure, just give me one minute, I need to tell the girls the menu’’ she instructed the girls what to do and went to speak to Buck. They seated at an empty table. ‘’What are you doing up, this early?’’ ‘’I want to apologize for yesterday, for interrupting you and Bucky. What you guys were doing is none of my business, and I just wanted to apologize’’ The girl smiled, the men in front of her looked nervous. ‘’Thank you for apologizing, but don’t worry, Bucky is a soldier, he must have a good night of sleep before a mission. I’m not mad at you’’ she reassured Buck. He looked relived. ‘’Can you look after Meatball when we’re not here? And I promise to look after Bucky’’ he extended his hand, to make it official. She smiled and shook his hand.

The boys were starting to come in to get their breakfast. Y/n was supervising her girls, making sure everything was okay, that none of the soldiers were mean to them. ‘’I told you, my food is cold, bitch!’’ a soldier yelled at one of the nurses. Y/n quickly came at the scene. ‘’What’s going on, private?’’ She said to the soldier, behind her counter. ‘’God can any of those cunts hear me! MY FOOD IS COLD’’ He yelled, getting everyone’s attention in the cafeteria. ‘’Go help Daisy, I got this Mary’’ she told the nurse that was getting yelled at. She took a deep breath and than, looked at the men straight in the eyes. ‘’First of all, don’t ever disrespect my girls like that, we volunteered, just like you. Geeting yelled at by pricks like you wasn’t in the contract.’’ The men tried to talk, but Y/n shushed him. ‘’Second of all, we serve dozens of men, the portions are already made, you just got one that we made early this morning. If you ask nicely, maybe I can personally warm it up for you.’’ She tried to be nice, but he was getting on his nerves.

The men yelling caught the attention of every soldier. Including John Egan’s attention. His back was facing the scene, so he didn’t see that it was Y/n getting yelled at. ‘’I won’t ask nicely, isn’t it in your contract to serve warm food, bitch’’ He was speaking loudly, but since the room went quiet, everyone could hear the altercation. ‘’Isn’t it basic manners to speak nicely at a woman.’’ Y/n responded quietly. ‘’God this nurse doesn’t let him be mean to her’’ Bucky whispered to his friends. ‘’Isn’t it your nurse?’’ Curt stated, pointing at the nurse. Bucky turned around to see HIS nurse, getting yelled at by the men. He was about to get up, but Buck put a hand on his shoulder, to stop him from getting up he didn't want his friend to get in trouble. Plus Y/n looked like she handled the men by herself. Every man in the room was watching the scene. ‘’What did you say to me, skank’’ The angry men spat in the face of the chief nurse. ‘’Do you want your warm meal, or not?’’ The men took his plate and threw it at Y/n, the plate broke on the glass, but a piece went at her, cutting her on the cheek. Egan wanted to rip his head off, he hurt his nurse. ‘’Congratulation, you lost your meal, and you’re gonna get arrested for assault. Have a good day sir’’ she said as the military police arrested the men. ‘’Everyone goes back to your plates!’’ one of the Corporal said. Egan quickly got up and went to the medic center, which was next door, to see if she was okay.

Y/n was holding a tissue to her cheek, to stop the bleeding. She was still in shook of what just happened. How could’ve stayed so calm? Her head was down, she was just feeling so many emotions at the time. She heard the door open. ‘’I’ll give you my statement after I clean my wound’’ she said to the military police. ‘’I don’t need your statement, darling, I was there’’ Bucky said as she raised her head to look at him. He approached her, getting closer to her, he could see the food on her skirt, the blood on her shirt and her eyes, full of tears. ‘’I’m okay, really, it was nothing’’ she said, her voice breaking down. ‘’Let’s go in your office, it’ll be quieter’’ he proposed. She nodded, following him to her office. Where they were last night, but there wasn’t any tension in the air now. Bucky was angry, this dick had hurt his girl. As soon as the door was closed, she started crying. ‘’I don’t even know why I’m crying. He got arrested and I only have a small cut. I’m okay, really’’ she said with a lump in her throat, she didn’t want to appear vulnerable in front of him. ‘’Let me look, darling’’ ‘’Bucky, I’m okay, go back to your friends’’ she tries to push him away. ‘’Not until you’re okay. Do you need a hug?’’ She nodded and he opened his arms, Y/n came closer to him. She cried in his arms as he reassured her, telling her that everything was going to be okay, that she was safe with him. When she felt better, she took the tissue off her wound, Bucky didn’t know anything about medicine, but he got her what she said she needed and help her, the best he could. ‘’Now, can you give me a smile, darling’’ she smiled to him, it wasn’t a forced smile, she was happy that he was here. ‘’I’m leaving for my mission soon, but when I come back, I’m going to get my necklace back, keep it safe from pirates’’ Bucky joked. Again, she laughed. ‘’Don’t ask anyone to punch you in the face this time’’ she adds, this time, Egan’s laughing. ‘’Be careful out there, come back in one piece’’ she seriously said. He nodded and kissed the top of her head. ‘’Kiss me, before you leave, please’’ He did as she asked and kissed her. There weren’t any sexual tensions, they were kissing because she asked him to do so, because even if they don’t want to admit it to each other, this might be the last time they see each other. ‘’I’m serious, Major, come back to me’’ she said as he left the room. ‘’Promise’’ he said before going back to his friends.

It was the time for him to leave, she went to the runway with other nurses. Crosby ran to her, she had to give him medicine, but he wanted to know if she was okay. ‘’Oh, my lord, Y/n are you oaky?’’ he hugged her. As he broke the hug, he looked at her face. ‘’Nothing I can’t fix, here’s your medicine Croz, be careful’’ She handed him the pills. Harry took the pills and left. Bucky and Buck walked towards her. ‘’Are you alright?’’ Buck asked. She nodded. ‘’More scared than hurt’’ she said. ‘’Meatball’s coming, hold on I’ll get him’’ Buck says as he leaves. ‘’No sad stuff. Just think about the cross around my neck’’ she said. ‘’I will darling, I’ll come back, and we can continue where we left off last night.’’ She blushed and chuckled. She gently hit his shoulder, indicating him to go in his plane. Bucky winked at you before getting inside. Buck gave you Meatball. ‘’Don’t forget your part of the deal’’ she said, getting a nod from Buck. He swore to protect his best friend, that’s what he was going to do, until Bucky was back in her arms.

Part 5⬇️

#master of the air imagine #major john egan #john egan x female reader #john egan x reader #john egan #master of the air #austin butler #gale cleven #harry crosby #meatball

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dazed--xx · 1 year ago

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🌘Rewriting Destiny (teaser) 🌒

Member: Duke! Chan x reader

Word count: 813

Trigger warnings: ANGST, Death (FL), psychological, trauma, poisoning, parental neglect/abuse, arranged marriage, anxiety, Nobility, engagement at a young age, regression, murder, revenge, mentions of magic, PTSD, manipulation, regretful ML, Resentment, betrayal, classism, 17th century ideals, homophobia(mentions), SOME!historical accuracy, LOTS! of historical inaccuracies, BREAK UP!, grief, mourning, denial, failure to let go, etc…

A/N: so I'm still transferring this story from my notebook onto tumblr but I wanted to get y'all excited for the new story so here is a little teaser of the story and don't worry its not too big of a spoiler 😂🤪

The family she had married into had lost use for her...

Y/Ns blood ran cold as she came to the realization. The move to the annex, the maids becoming more and more ruthless, and the lack of guards around her annex becoming more frequent. Her time is slowly coming to an end. She wondered if there was a point to all of this. Would there be a point in running? Her mother would hunt her down and skin her alive if she did. ‘Die a respected Dutchess rather than run and be a divorced beggar’ she could hear her mother say. Y/N watches as the blue clear sky fades into a bright purple and orange hue.

A knock on her door pulls her attention away from her thoughts. “Yes?” She calls monotonously. “The Duke is in the receiving room, My lady.” Area calls softly. Y/N's eyebrows furrow in confusion. “My lady?” Area calls once again when she doesn't reply. “I-Im coming! I apologize, Aera.” Y/N replies as she shakily lifts herself from her seat. The whole walk to the receiving room Y/N worried.

Why was he here? He's never visited of his own accord. What could be happening? Would he cast her out himself? A petite hand grips her own pulling her out of her thoughts. Y/N stares at the owner, as Aera gives her a comforting smile. Y/N lets out a sigh, the butler pulls open the door. She hesitates for a moment, it had been a year—one full year, since she had last seen her husband. A lot could change in a single year. She feared how her husband had changed; it was never good for her. She entered the room, her heart sank into her stomach. There he sat, at the head of the room. A flurry of maids standing about waiting on baited breath for his every command. His hair was no longer the clean-cut style but overgrown, sitting raggedly over his forehead and disheveled. Evidence of his bath dripping onto his loose black shirt. He sat a scowl on his plush lips as he sipped his tea. “To what do I owe the honor, Your grace?” Y/N questioned monotonously. “Should I have a reason to visit my dear wife?” He states smugly as he places his tea on the table in front of him. “Especially when I do not receive her greetings after a year-long monster-hunting expedition and come to discover she no longer lives in the same house as me?” Y/N stares at him in bewilderment and confusion. “Your grace?” She stammered “Please, take a seat” He gestured to the loveseat in front of him, his face no longer containing any emotion.

Y/N sits nervously as she begins to question her husband. “I apologize, but what do you mean? I’ve received your letter and followed your instructions.” Chan furrowed his eyebrows as his ears perked up “What letter?” Y/N's attention is pulled away from him by the slight clink of a teacup being placed on the table in front of her. Y/N's eyes remained focused on the maid for a moment, she couldn't quite put her finger on it but something felt…off. “Have you gone deaf in the past 5 minutes?” Chan questions frustratedly. Y/N shakes her head taking hold of the teacup and taking a sip. “No, I apologize. I've not been feeling well today” Y/N states calmly. Her throat begins to feel a small burning sensation. “What letter? When did you receive a letter from me?” Chan asks stoically. Y/N coughs slightly “My apologies, I received your letter about one months time ago” She takes another sip of tea trying to alleviate the growing discomfort. Chan stares at her with his eyebrows raised “And you are sure it was addressed from me?” her throat begins to burn incessantly. Her eyes widen as her mouth fills with a coppery tast as she coughs again.

“My lady?!?!” Area exclaims worriedly “Y/N?!”

Only then does Y/N make the connection. The maid—She works in the main manor, and she’s Kari’s personal maid. Y/N stares at the teacup in her hand, dropping it in a panic. Her eyes meet Chan’s for a moment. He sat stoically, but his eyes never once left her. Y/N rushes to her feet, reaching out for her personal maid “Aera!” She calls. Her tone gurgles and hoarse as crimson cascades out of her mouth. Her legs give way beneath her as she feels arms around her. The room begins to grow blurry as she feels the life fading from her body.

No…No not yet, please God! Don't let me die! I didn't get away…I-I was never happy please! She prays God please let me be happy. “If I could do it all over again…Id have never married you. My biggest regret was walking down that aisle…” She croaks as everything fades to black.

Taglist: @yangbbokari @lovesunshinefelix @oddracha @msauthor @azazelstays @rylea08 @skzfelixlove @blondechannie @moonchildlv @kibs-and-bits @5starlee @pnutbutter-n-j-elyy @lizzetmv @hwanriri

#skz angst #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #stray kids reactions #bang chan au #bang chan angst #bang chan fluff #stray kids bang chan #skz bang chan #bang chan smut #bang chan historical Au #skz chan angst #skz chan scenarios #skz chan teaser

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stellabk · 7 months ago

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FVRY OF THE FIRE

Part III

Hi! So I completely forgot to mention I was going to start by posting every other day since this time of year at work is CRAZY. I still hope all of you enjoy the story when I do post it, and yeah I think that’s all. Enjoy!

Summary - Deianira has sulked in her room in the days leading up to her wedding, worrying everyone of the court, her sister, and even the Emperor she is meant to marry.

Warning(s) - verbal abuse, shouting, throwing things, historical inaccuracy; please let me know if their are any warnings I missed or grammar mistakes

The few days leading up to the wedding, parties were held in the grand hall, though Deianira did not attend. She was sure that Emperor Geta would send soldiers to knock down the door and carry her there against her will, or maybe even would’ve done it himself, yet she still sat in her room, only leaving to go to the bathhouse with Aelia. Her sister had come to visit her the night she had not attended the first celebration, finding Deia in the bed unmoving. Publia instructed servants to bring her meals and told them she was ill.

Now, here she was yet again, lying in the plush bed with fresh, soft linens and looking up at the mosaic covered ceiling. Aelia entered, not even earning a startled jump from her mistress.

”I have brought your lunch, Empre- Deianira,” she corrected herself. Upon being told that Deia was ill—though even she knew she was well—she brought her breakfast and called her empress. Deia had stood to her feet and was shouting that she would never be empress, though she did apologize profusely to Aelia after realizing she was taking it all out on her only companion other than family.

“Leave it. I wish to be alone before I walk the aisle toward my demise,”

”Miss Deia, it can’t be all that bad. Being married to the emperor gives you so much freedom, your children shall be legitimate, and not to mention they will one day inherit the throne.”

”You wouldn’t understand, Lia, and I would not expect you to.”

Aelia sat on the bed, facing her future ruler. Her red hair appeared on fire in the sunlight that shone through. “It might surprise you just how much I understand.”

Deia looked at her, Aelia now noticing the puffiness of her eyes, so red they matched her hair.

“You know, malady, I was once married.” Aelia smiled at her hands resting in her lap, not noticing the shock on Deia’s face as she shot to sit up. “He was lovely. We were of no nobility, but I was given the liberty of choosing my own marriage. I had two beautiful sons as well.”

”What happened to them?” Deia grew closer to her companion, scooping up her hands in her own and holding them tightly.

”He was taken from me. I shall spare you the details, but he passed, and once my sons were of age, they wished to avenge their father. They were met with the same fate.”

Aelia wiped a stray tear, Deia still cradling her hands and stroking her knuckles in comfort.

”I should not burden a woman with such woe the night before she is to be married. Would you like to go to the bathhouse? We have new imported oils to use for your wedding… a gift from Emperor Geta.”

“I suppose since I am trapped, I may as well appreciate the gifts I have been given.”

Deia sat in the warm water, running her hand over the top to create ripples that distorted her figure below the surface. Aelia washed her hair with a pomegranate and fig soaps and oils to signify female fertility and long lasting commitment.

”I was in love like you once,” Deia broke through the silence. Aelia continued to wash the long red hair that had darkened from the moisture. “He promised that we would be wed after… after everything in my village began to quiet itself.”

”What was he like?”

”He was kind. He had brown eyes, though one was blinded and scarred from fighting to protect me once while we were still young. He grew to be so strong, as well. He was… everything a woman hears of in stories.”

”He sounds marvelous, my lady. I understand now… I am sorry that you are not with the man you wished for, but perhaps you will fall for the Imperator in time.”

No other words were said between the two of them, but it had been enough. Geta had heard tell that his future wife had left for the bathhouse and though he would never voice his concerns, he did grow worried about her. When he had arrived, Deianira had began talking about her love lost back home. He fumed, not moving as he clenched his fists until his nails bit into his palms and blood dripped onto the marble floor.

”Imperator, are you alright? Do you wish to return to your room?” His servant cowered behind him, praying to the Gods that he would agree and they could both avoid the altercation. His prayers were in vain, as Geta pushed the door open, hitting it against the wall and letting the sound reverberate though the bathhouse.

”Oh, so sorry to startle you, wife, I thought you would still be in bed.”

”well, I am feeling much better with Aelia’s care. I can take my leave and give you the bathhouse for the rest of the afternoon,” she shifted to rise while Aelia used a linen to guard her from the emperor’s gaze, but he held up his hand.

”Nonsense. We are to be married; it is no concern of mine if you were to stay. In fact, I insist.”

Deia nodded, sinking back into the water as Aelia refolded the linen and resumed scrubbing the lady’s hair.

“Although I understand that you wish to spend your days in the bathhouse with another man of much lower standing. It does not suit such an important standing woman as yourself.”

”I don’t know what you are referring to, imperator. I am to be your wife, whether I wish it or not,” she brought her knees to her chest to shield what little of her figure he may see through the water.

”There’s no need to lie to me, Deia. I am emperor and must hear all the voices of Rome and their woes,” his jaw ticked as he splayed his arms out against the side of the pool.

”I assure you, I have no need to lie to the man I am to marry.”

He stared at her with blooming fury, using his hard gaze like he usually had to make people cower and confess, but it only made him angrier that she was an exact mirror. The silence was thick enough to cut with shears, and the servants’ movements were tense at the interaction.

”I was beginning to wonder what ailment had fallen upon you. You have not been to a single celebration in honor of our engagement, and yet here I find you, being pampered like a most loved pet. With the fineries I bought you, no less.”

”I am quite alright. I was not feeling my best, but I shall be ready for tomorrow. Do not fret too much about me,” she didn’t look at him as she continued playing in the water as if it were far more intriguing than he was. Aelia had finished washing long ago, but she could not bring herself to interrupt the emperor in fear of losing her head.

”Are you quite sure you’re ready? You must be certain. After all, if you discover you are not, and I catch wind of any infidelity on your part, even just a man looking at you, I shall cut their tongues out and serve it to you before locking you in my bedchambers for the rest of my life, little snake.”

”You believe me to be a whore? I am offended you would call your soon-to-be wife something so sinister, emperor. I shall be faithful, as this marriage is at least legitimate, whether I were to love you or not.”

Aelia held up the linen, letting Deianira climb out of the water shielded, before wrapping her and fastening her dress just to wear back to the room.

”Forgive me for my departure, emperor, but I must go prepare for our wedding tomorrow,” she bowed to him, eyes cold as she stared at him the entire time. “I shall see you tomorrow at the altar.”

Deia’s hair had been dry for some time now as she twisted the glossy red waves around her finger and took in the new scent. She sat in the small chair in the corner next to the ornate mirror, picking up her hairbrush and combing it through as she stared at a shell of herself looking back.

The door swung open, Geta marching toward her. As soon as she looked toward him, he was right in front of her, snatching the brush from her hands and throwing it against the mirror causing it to shatter and pieces to fly across the floor. She dared not to flinch and show that he frightened her or he may become more hostile.

”You dare embarrass me like that!” He shouted in her face as she stared at him with the same lifeless eyes she had given him earlier.

”How did I do such a thing, emperor?”

“You have not been to a single celebration. You made excuses that you were unwell that made people worry for you, when really you were sulking,” he spit the last word. “You lied right to my face about what I overheard just outside the bathhouse, and in front of the help, no less. I should have you confined to my room for the rest of your days!”

“I pray you do! I have been ill: I have been sick of the idea that I must marry you of all people. I wish to be home instead of being forced to marry someone like you!”

”My little snake, your insolence knows no bounds. I would give you all you could ask for and it still would not be satiable for you, would it? I have tried to be gentle with you, dear, but it is hard for me to believe that anyone could ever have loved you!”

Deia stood her ground, but she felt choked. Her eyes and throat began to burn as she held back her bitterness for the words

“It is hard for me to believe that anyone could ever love you!”

Geta faltered at the sight, her brown eyes staring at him angrily as they glassed over. He felt the pang in his chest and couldn’t comprehend its origins. He pulled his face back to stone, not letting her see that her emotion caused him to stumble before he walked out the room briskly, slamming the door behind him and rattling Deia’s insides.

#emperor geta x fem reader #emperor geta x female reader #emperor geta fanfic #emperor geta fanfiction #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta #gladiator ii smut #gladiator 2 smut #gladiator ll #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #joeseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn

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thenameswinter99 · 1 month ago

Note

For the character thingy: Ragnar Lothbrok 🤭👀 (but also Sihtric if you haven't done him already hehehe)

So, first of all I sincerely want to apologize if this took me so long to reply. My procrastination won so much I left this in my draft for days. Plus, I'm sorry if I'm going to write inaccuracies but it's been a long time since I last saw Vikings and I might forget something/say something stupid.

But I'm going to answer to this as best as I can!

Ragnar Lothbrok

How I feel about this character

He's not my favourite character in the whole show, but he's pretty good, with all his complexities and flaws. He sometimes comes up with good strategies, which shows how smart and ambitious he is. Then, in the next episode, you want to punch him in the face because he acts impulsively and does stupid things. But hey! That's the beauty of characterisation: a character without flaws doesn't exists.

A thing that intrigued me is his thoughts about the religion. In the beginning he encarnates the perfect viking that worships Odin and the Norse gods, claiming that the fate of men is dictated by the will of the gods. When he approaches Christianity he becomes curious about it, exploring its doctrines and questioning about fate and gods, an inner conflict that will accompaign him for the rest of his life.

Last, but not least: thank you Travis. Your performance was spectacular, he incarnates Ragnar as best as he can. I can't see another face but Travis when I see this character, it's also thanks to him if Ragnar gest all the spotlight (along with the fact that is an important figure in the Norse history/mithology).

All the people I ship romantically with this character

I know it's banal, but I ship him with Lagertha. I don't like the pairing with Aslaug (actually, I don't like her at all) as it lacks the same complicity that he had with Lagertha, at least in season one. Of course, he was a bit nasty to her and cheated on her, but I loved how they still had some sort of love and respect for each other, with Lagertha mostly supporting his decisions.

My non-romantic OTP for his character

Obviously there are Ragnar and Floki, they had such a great bond in the first season, for what I remember. A bond forged with being close friends and confidants to each other, but that sadly fades away, when conflicts over them starts to show.

I kinda enjoyed the interactions between Ragnar and Aethelstan, until the writers let things slipping out their hands...

Last but not least, I remember he had some nice interactions with King Ecbert, especially when they were initially drawn together by their curiosity towards each other.

My unpopular opinion about this character

Can I just say how much I disliked his arc in season 4? It's as if the writers had forgotten how they had written his character in previous seasons. There were still great scenes (the 'Who wants to be king?' scene will forever be etched in my memory, and Travis gave a masterful performance) but then? One dumb decision after another. He just doesn't feel like the Ragnar we saw in previous seasons.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon

I wish the show had been more faithful to the myths. I know it's almost impossible because romanticisation is almost inevitable in historical dramas like this one, but people always complain about a lack of fidelity to the original material. I just wish the relationships between the characters had been based on the original material. I'm not saying they had to copy it verbatim, but they shouldn't have taken too many liberties.

Sihtric Kjartansson

I have already answered at this. Check here!

Now I'm going to hide because I'm afraid of your judgement... 😂 Thank you for the ask! 💜

GIVE ME A CHARACTER (AND I'LL BREAK THEIR ASS DOWN) ASK GAME

#now I can come back writing my bucky x reader fic #aaand I should do a rewatch of vikings immediately #tumblr asks #moots asks #ask game #character ask game #my beloved moots #my beloved kyra 💜

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ssinnerplazahotel · 11 months ago

Text

╭──────────.★..─╮

*Chapter Ten*

╰─..★.──────────╯

WC: 8k

Warning: 18+, age gap, smut, fluff, toxic elvis, manipulation, drug use, it’s the 50s/60s, painful-difficult-devastating-life-changing-extraordinary love

Pairing: elvis x black reader

Disclaimer: full of inaccuracies, inaccurate timeline, inaccurate depictions of Graceland, historically inaccurate themes and items

Masterlist: Prologue, Ch. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

Graceland hadn’t changed—not upon first glance anyway. There were several unfamiliar faces but amongst the bunch there was Dawn and Cynthia. No longer serving at the pleasure of The Presley’s but there to welcome you back to town after your brief MIA stint.

You hugged Dawn enthusiastically. She was thrilled to see you and Joel—you had talked several times but nothing compared to seeing her in person.

“How’d this happen?” She asked, referring to you and Joel as you sat next to her at the dining table.

“It just happened.”

“I followed her around until she agreed to marry me. She refuses to tell anybody that story.”

“Well look what the cat done dragged in.” Sonny appeared suddenly—Jerry and Red trailing along. “Just as ugly as the day he left.”

Joel stood to greet them before re-introducing you. “My lady.”

“My lady, I hate to steal your gentleman, but we have unfinished business to attend,” Red said, throwing an arm over Joel’s shoulder.

He started to say he couldn’t but you reassured him that it was fine.

“I’ll come check on you, I promise,” He said as they dragged him away.

You sighed after he was gone. “They’ve been up all night. I don’t know how they manage.”

“They manage.” Dawn chuckled. “So, how have things been? How’s Atlanta?”

“Busy,” You responded.

Dawn hummed, glancing past you for a moment before speaking again in a lower voice. “Why’d you come back?”

“Elvis invited us.”

“Things seem to be going well, you and Joel seem happy.”

“We are happy.”

“You don’t think being back here will stir things up? I mean knowing what we all know…”

You knew exactly what Dawn was saying. You hated that she was choosing to be the voice of reason instead of being happy to see you.

“Joel begged me to come, I didn’t want to. I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“I am. But I don't want Joel to get hurt.”

“What about me?”

Cynthia appeared again, this time with Andrea. You froze for a moment but recovered quickly and forced a smile.

“Well well well." She grinned—she was as radiant as the last time you saw her. "Look who finally decided to show her face in these parts again."

"Andrea.” You stood to hug her.

"Mhm," She hummed, hugging you back. "I don’t appreciate you skipping town and never calling me again. You get too busy in the city and forget all about us?”

“No, I just…I was going through a lot,” You said. “I’m sorry.”

“I might be able to forgive you.” She took a seat at the dining table. “What’s this I hear about you marrying a white man? What’s the point if you’re only gonna be married in 19 states?”

“Drea,” Cynthia complained.

“Joel from Hawaii, right?”

“You remember him?” You asked.

“Yeah, he’s cute.” She took your hand and examined your ring. “Did you guys run away together or something?”

“No,” You laughed. “We ran into each at a restaurant.”

“Wow. If you bothered to call me at all I’d know these things.”

You started to apologize again but you were interrupted by Elvis’ voice as he approached the table.

“How are my girls doin?” He asked, walking past you to Dawn. He kissed her cheek and then Cynthia’s before leaning on the back of an empty chair. “Andrea.”

“Elvis,” She said—looking off with a bored expression.

“It’s been a long time,” He said, he seemed to enjoy the fact that she despised him.

“Sorry I didn’t come sooner,” She started. “I was waiting for a good hair day.”

He laughed shortly before his eyes found yours. You averted your eyes. He spoke again, addressing the table. “If y’all need anything you can let Nancy know, she don’t mind. And don’t let the guys bother you, they’re outta their minds.”

Cynthia and Dawn laughed, agreeing that they were indeed crazy. When he finally walked away his hand rested on your shoulder as he passed, sending a jolt down your spine. When you looked up Dawn’s eyes were on you—so were Cynthia’s. You felt like a spectacle.

“Somebody outta take him down a notch,” Andrea said with an annoyed eye roll.

“What’s he ever done to you?” Cynthia laughed. “Keep on blocking your blessings like that.”

“Oh, mama.”

“Don’t ‘oh mama’ me.”

You smiled as they bickered—they hadn’t changed.

Andrea snagged you from the table and the two of you walked around outside. You spent most of the afternoon catching up before she had to eventually take Cynthia home.

“I wish you could stay,” You said, hugging her. “They’ll probably be out all night.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Andrea said. “But I have an appointment tomorrow morning. Divorce court starts early.”

“I’m so sorry, Drea.”

“It’s for the best. We didn’t want to wait until we hated each other to get it over with.”

“I’m glad you’re in a good place about it.”

“Anyway, I have some errands to run.”

“I understand.” You smiled. “I promise I’ll call. Even if it’s every once in a while.”

“You better,” She said. “I mean it. I want to know what’s going on with you. And don’t forget to send me an invite to the wedding.”

Dawn left with Cynthia and Andrea. She didn’t bring up your brief conversation from earlier but you could tell by her expression that she still felt the same. She had no faith in you. You figured if you could go on avoiding him like you had been, the weekend would go by seamlessly.

You guys were put in the spare room upstairs—your old room. It felt like some kind of inside joke when Jerry helped Joel carry your things up.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere, just downstairs.”

You forced a smiled in an attempt to hide your disappointment. “You’re gonna be out late, then?”

“No, probably not.” You wondered why he lied. “What?”

You noticed that you’d let your smile drop a bit. “Nothing.”

Joel gave you a look and stepped forward to wrap his arms around your waist. “Let me have it.”

“It’s just that…I’ll hardly see you this weekend and we’re going straight to Virginia afterwards so you’ll be wrapped up with work~”

“Oh, about that,” He started suddenly. “I talked to Bibby and he needs me to head down earlier than I expected.”

“Really?”

“I tried to get out of it, but you know how he is. He said he would let me leave early if I came ahead of time so I’m gonna head down in the morning and get it out the way before the weekend’s over.”

“When are we leaving?”

“I was gonna go tonight and meet you back here Saturday. I figured you could go spend some time with Dawn, she seemed happy when I told her you’d be over tomorrow.”

“You aren’t going to ask me how I feel about any of this?”

“I thought you’d be happy.”

All you wanted was to tell him to call everything off and take you home—but you didn’t want to ruin his time. You could get through the rest of the night, then you’d be able to escape to Dawn’s house.

“Hello?”

“Birdie?”

You froze when you heard his voice coming through the receiver. Your first instinct was to slam the phone back on the hook. You stared at it until it rang again, startling you when it did. You hesitated before picking it up again.

“Joel’s not here,” You said, moving to hang the phone up again.

“Don’t hang up,” Elvis said quickly.

“He already left.”

“I-I didn’t call to talk to Joel, honey, I called to talk to you.”

“You can’t…” You closed your eyes for a second and sighed. “I shouldn’t be talking to you while he’s not here.”

“Should I call when he gets back?”

“No.”

You heard him laugh on the other line, prompting you to roll your eyes. “You shouldn’t call at all. There’s no reason for you to talk to me.”

“Oh, well, I beg to differ.” He chuckled. “I think we have a lot to talk about, actually.”

“We don’t. I’m engaged.”

“I’m not trying to come between you and Joel.”

“Then what do you want?”

“You.”

You shook your head, falling silent as you tried to quiet the storm you had brewing inside.

“I want to talk to you,” He continued. “Is that alright?”

“No, it’s not.”

“I think you want to talk to me too, birdie.” His voice dropped and was suddenly drained of any humor. “It’s been a long time.”

“It hasn’t been long enough,” You said. “I don’t want to talk to you. I never want to see you again, Elvis. If you can’t understand that~”

“I do understand.”

“Then why won’t you leave me alone?” You asked, frustrated tears threatening to form in your eyes. “I’m happy. I love Joel and I love the life we’re building together.”

“Who are you trying to convince?” He interrupted. “I never said you didn’t.”

“You’re disrupting everything.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do.”

You laid back against your pillow with the phone to your ear. “Just tell me what you want.”

“I want to see you.”

“No.”

Silence settled between the two of you for a moment before he spoke again.

“You don’t have to,” He said. “I want you to, that’s all.”

“I can’t,” You whispered.

“Why?”

“Joel…”

He hummed on the other line, you couldn’t decipher his tone. “Well…I-If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

“I’m not going to.”

“You don’t have to. I’m glad you came down this weekend anyway. Dawn really misses having you here.”

“Why are you trying to make me feel guilty?”

“I’m not, honey.”

There was another beat of silence before the line went dead.

You held the receiver to your ear even after he was gone, listening to the mechanic hum of the dial tone. You checked the clock on the dresser.

Joel would be halfway to his conference by now. He’d get to his hotel and call you by eight like he promised. He’d ask you what you were doing and you’d reassure him you were okay—even though there was nothing he could do if you weren’t. Then he’d talk to you for over an hour, hoping that the lengthy phone call would appease you while he was away. He’d promise to call every chance he got—he always did—before ending the call saying: “I love you, I’ll be thinking of your sweet voice all night.”

To which you would laugh and respond: “I love you too.”

You’d blow him a kiss through the receiver and say goodnight. It was the same routine every time he went away. You knew in your mind that going to see Elvis was a bad idea. You knew the effect he’d have on you—he knew it too.

You hung up the phone and sat up to grab your case of cigarettes from the dresser. You opened the case only to find it empty.

You felt the weight of your decision before you’d even made it. A crushing weight in your chest that only nicotine could combat. It was overwhelmingly unlike you. Despite the guilt already consuming you, you knew your mind was made up before you could talk yourself out of it. There were too many feelings swirling around inside of you, old and new.

You had hoped that, maybe, you could put that part of yourself to rest once and for all by going to see him that night.

You fidgeted anxiously, smoothing down the skirt of your dress as you waited in the deserted hallway. You knocked but grew anxious after waiting a minute or two and raised your hand to knock again. You hesitated before knocking in the same gentle pattern that you had used so many years ago. The door opened almost immediately and you were met with Elvis’ familiar eyes.

“Birdie,” He muttered with what looked like a genuinely shocked expression.

“E,” You said back. Your heart hammered rapidly against your ribcage as you stared back at him. “You weren’t going to leave me standing in the hallway were you?”

“I-I didn’t know it was you.” He chuckled, still shocked by your presence. “Come in.”

You stepped inside the room and watched him close the door. It was silent aside from the tv blaring loudly. The room was dim, lived in but tidy—just like you remembered.

“I didn’t think you’d show.” He walked past you to turn the tv off.

You stood still, fidgeting with the skirt of your dress. For a moment you felt disconnected from yourself and reality. When you looked back at the door you wanted to leave. You shouldn’t have been there.

“Don’t just stand there.”

You met Elvis’ eyes, shaking your head as you tried to process your emotions.

He met you where you stood and slipped his hand into yours. “I wanna talk to you, honey. That’s all.”

He led you over to the bed and kept a decent amount of space between you as you sat down.

“You’re quiet,” He said, shifting to face you. “That’s one thing you never were.”

“You called me here.” You pointed out. “You wanted to talk. So talk.”

“How can I? You’re ice cold.” He smiled as he spoke. “How d’you like Atlanta?”

“It’s alright. We like it.”

“You and Joel?”

“Yes.”

Elvis nodded, his expression growing amused.

“What?” You asked, instantly annoyed.

“Nothing, nothing. You seem different,” He said it as if he knew something you didn’t. He always made you feel like he understood you better than you understood yourself.

“I am different.”

“I can tell.” He looked away. Was he upset by the change he saw in you?

“Tell me what it is you needed to tell me.” You waited for him to respond. “E?”

His smile had faded and his expression was thoughtful now. “I should’ve gone after you.”

You remembered standing in the hall waiting for him the night you left. You remembered the inkling of fragile hope inside of you fizzling into nothing the longer you stood there—waiting for him.

“I shouldn’t have let you go.”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“If I had gone after you, you wouldn’t have stayed?”

“You know I would’ve stayed. I loved you.”

“I loved you too.”

You scoffed lowly, turning your head.

“What was that?” He asked.

“What was what?” You responded.

“That sound you made. You don’t believe me?”

“No, Elvis. I never believed you when you said that.”

“It’s the truth.”

“I think you want it to be the truth. But really you only ever said it to make me happy. Not because you meant it.”

“Why can’t you accept the fact that I cared about you?” He asked, narrowing his eyes. “I still care about you.”

“I don’t believe that,” You said. “I think you got what you wanted from me while we were together and that was it.”

“That’s what you want to think, birdie.” He looked upset but he didn’t sound angry. “You tell yourself that because you want to hate me. Because it’s the only thing that makes sense to you~”

“Don’t tell me what I want to think,” You said. “You used me, you know you did.”

“I never used you. I came to you because…” He fell silent, choosing his words carefully.

“Just come out and say it,” You insisted.

“You made me feel good. When I was with you, it was just us. Me and you. No acts, no games. You didn’t expect anything from me, and I didn’t have to worry about you taking advantage. When I talked to you, it felt like you actually gave a shit and I needed that. So if you call that using you, then hell, I guess I fucking used you. That doesn’t change the fact that you were important to me.”

You looked up as you warded off tears. You didn’t want to cry, you’d cried too many nights over him.

“You can hate me.” You tried to pull your hand away but he grabbed it anyway. “You can blame me for everything that went wrong, I don’t care. But don’t tell me I never loved you.”

“Don’t~” You started when he took your face between his hands, trying to avoid his touch.

“I’ve thought about you everyday since you left.” His eyes were intense—desperate and all too familiar. “I ask Dawn about you every time I talk to her~”

“Elvis~”

“You’re always on my mind, birdie. Always.”

Tears welled in your eyes despite your best efforts. You stared into Elvis’ sapphire eyes and shivered with nostalgia.

“There’s no future for us,” You whispered. “It’s not our story, E. You know that.”

“I’m not asking for the future,” He responded. “I’m asking for tonight. One more night.”

He closed the space between you in a tender kiss and the taste of his lips brought on a flood of memories. Memories that flashed in short, sweet successions.

Memories of long nights of laughter and love making. Memories of lust and sadness, passion and rage. You felt his arms around you when he held you the night your mother died. You felt the golden chain resting weightlessly against your collarbone as he secured it around your neck. You felt his lips against your skin as he kissed every inch of your body, praising your very existence. You felt the sparks of being in love for the first time, and the excitement that came with the feeling.

You pulled away from the kiss, alarmed at the sudden influx of emotions. You stood and walked away, rushing to the door in a desperate attempt to escape the version of yourself that you supposedly weren’t anymore.

“Birdie,” Elvis called after you, standing to stop you. “Baby, please, don’t~”

“I have to go.” The door was pushed shut before you could open it more than an inch.

“Don’t leave,” He said as he held it shut. “Please…”

You looked up at him with tears in your eyes. “I love him. He makes me happy, Elvis, he treats me well. He’s a good person, a-and…god, he adores you~”

“We’re not talkin about him.” He put his other hand against the door, caging you between his arms. “This has nothing to do with him.”

“I’m going to be his wife,” You argued.

“You aren’t tonight,” Elvis said. “Tonight we can…we can be who we were. We can feel the things we felt. And tomorrow, we’ll go back to being who we are.”

“Who are we?”

“Right now, we’re who we were.”

“Who were we?”

“We were in love. Weren’t we?”

Elvis slipped his arms around your waist, pulling you against him. You met his eyes and, for a moment, there was nothing. You looked at him and you felt like no time had passed. Like it hadn't been nearly a year between the time you saw him last and now. Your heart hammered wantonly against your rib cage and your body begged for him. There was a rush of excitement coursing through you that you hadn’t experienced since the day you left Memphis. It was exhilarating and it made you feel weightless.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You whispered.

“I need to feel the way you make me feel,” He confessed. “Just tell me you love me. You don’t have to mean it.”

“I love you…you know I mean it. But I can’t do this.”

“I think you need this as much as I do, you’re just afraid to let go.” His voice was low and tempting. “Don’t fight it, birdie.”

He hesitated before he kissed you again, his lips moving slowly against yours as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Nothing else mattered as he lifted you and carried you to bed.

All you wanted was to be close to him, to feel the desperation behind his touch. You knew you’d hate yourself for it, but you gave in to him completely—unbridled and unrestrained.

You undressed in a hurry, you couldn’t tell if it was an eagerness to be close to him or something else. You straddled him, wearing only your underwear as his hands roamed your body. His touch was familiar, and his lips tasted of nostalgia. You broke the kiss and gazed down at him. You wanted to know what he was thinking. You wanted to know if he was feeling everything you were feeling.

You felt like crying, suddenly overwhelmed. Despite him being right in front of you, you needed to know you weren’t alone.

“It’s okay,” He whispered when he noticed your tearsq. “I got you.”

He kissed you more gently than he did before, but you didn’t want him to. You didn’t want him to be gentle.

He kissed your neck, continuing to trail kisses down your chest and stomach before slipping his fingers under the thin band of your underwear. You breathed shallowly—stripped of your final piece of dignity. He ran a cold finger through your arousal and left a kiss between your legs. You tensed as you anticipated his touch. He wrapped both arms around your thighs and soon you were tensing with pleasure. Once upon a time he’d have you falling apart on his tongue with very little effort and in no time at all. You weren’t that girl anymore—you needed more. You let him have his fun before you rushing him along.

“Easy,” He complained, trying to slow you down.

“Do it now,” You persisted, ignoring his expression as you sat up and took the condom from his hand. If he was going to protest he stopped short when you pushed him back and straddled him, looking down at him beneath you. You leaned forward to kiss him but pulled away after a moment to tear the condom open. He swore under his breath, his hips canting at the stimulation as you rolled it on. You wasted no time letting him enter you.

“Goddamnit, birdie~”

“Don’t talk.”

He tried to meet your eyes but you refused. This wasn’t about him, it was about fulfilling something within yourself—you just didn’t know what it was.

He forced you still, lifting his hips to thrust slowly inside of you. You cried as the pleasure grew more intense. You felt yourself surrendering what little control you had of the situation—you didn’t want to. But the more that knot in the pit of your stomach tightened the less grounded you became.

“Slow,” He instructed in a whisper, freeing you to move on your own. You followed his instructions, meeting his deep thrust until you were trembling. Your fingers twitched around his neck and he nodded—you gave in and tightened your grip just enough.

He encouraged you to continue, his voice straining slightly as he met your thrusts.

You admitted defeat and leaned forward until your chest was pressed against his—letting him take control. He hugged you close, leaving you powerless as he thrusted deeply. He watched your expression the whole time, watching you fall apart.

It was all too much—his touch, his smell, the way his eyes bore so deeply into your soul that you felt connect by something greater than yourself.

It was an intense disaster that left you feeling breathless and completely spent.

You stared at the ceiling afterward, neither of you saying a word. The heat of the moment was gone and you were left with the cold, dreadful weight of reality.

“Don’t get lost, birdie,” Elvis said after a while. You turned your head to find his eyes on yours.

You shifted onto your side, facing him. “I don’t know why you call me that.”

“Birdie?”

“Yes.”

He smiled softly, reaching out and stroking your cheek. “Because you’re delicate, like a baby bird.”

“You think I’m weak.”

“No. I think you’re sensitive and emotional. But I don’t think you’re weak.”

“Sensitive and emotional,” You repeated incredulously, a smile forming on your face.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Elvis chuckled. “It’s what I love about you.”

Your smile faltered. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth~”

“Please don’t say that.”

You sighed, closing your eyes as guilt started to form in your gut. You shouldn’t have been there, you shouldn’t have let things go as far as they did. But it was too late. The act had already been done and you would have to face the consequences.

You sat up, holding the duvet over yourself as you gathered your discarded clothes. “U-Uhm, can I use the bathroom?”

Elvis silently nodded in the direction of the bathroom.

You stood and scurried inside before closing and locking the door. You sighed, leaning back against the door. You tried not to let your mind wonder as you forced yourself to clean up and get dressed. When you left the bathroom you found Elvis dressed in a robe with his arms crossed.

“I want you to stay here.” You couldn’t make out his tone.

“I can’t.” You sat down on the end of the bed to put your shoes on.

“Why not?” He continued when you didn’t answer. “Running off won’t fix anything. Damage is done, you might as well stay.”

“I’m not running.”

“Yes you are.”

You scoffed and stood. “Don’t start, E.”

“I’m not starting anything.” He kept his arms crossed as he walked towards you. “I’m telling you like it is.”

“What do you want me to do, spend the night?”

“Yes.”

“Why? You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“Did you? What the hell were you expecting?” He asked, narrowing his eyes and stopping in front of you. “You’re a hypocrite.”

You looked up at him, your gaze unwavering. “I’m here because you called me. I don’t know, I guess I hoped you’d be different. But you haven’t changed at all.”

“It has to be exhausting making your problems everyone else’s,” He said with a patronizing laugh. “It’s everyone’s fault but yours, all the time.”

“No, this was my fault. I expect too much from you, I always have.”

“You’re forcing a fight because you regret what just happened.”

You shook your head, looking away. Elvis stepped closer and took your chin in his hand.

“I know you, birdie,” He said. “I know what’s going on inside that pretty little head of yours.”

“Then you know why I have to leave.” Your voice sounded feeble to your own ears.

“I know why you want to leave.” He nodded. “But I promise that leaving won’t make that thing you’re feeling go away.”

You were silent.

“Stay with me t’night,” He insisted. “T’morrow you can pretend this never happened.”

“I’ll never be able to pretend this never happened.” You sighed sitting back down on the bed.

He sat down next to you and put his arm around you.

“I’ve tried so hard to forget you,” You continued. “I can’t count how many nights I’ve stayed awake crying over you. Even after all this time, I can’t help but…You shouldn’t have this hold on me. I’ve finally gotten to a place in my life where you aren’t the first thing I think about in the morning and you show up and take that all away~”

He cut you off. “You don’t think I’ve had sleepless nights? I’ve worried about you every night since you left. I didn’t know where you were, if you’d gotten hurt. I couldn’t sleep until Dawn told me you were safe. And even then, knowing you were okay didn’t make it hurt any less. I loved you.”

“I have a life now.”

“Okay, how’s that going for you?”

“You don’t get to judge me.”

“If you feel judged, that’s on you. You came here because there’s a part of you that isn’t happy. If you were, you wouldn’t’ve jeopardized what you have with~”

“I am happy,” You stressed. “I’ve learned to love someone other than you. I have, and I do~”

“But?” He waited for you to continue.

You sighed in frustration. “Do you have to make me feel insane all the time?”

“I’m just tryna get you to face the truth.”

“I know the truth.”

“Okay.”

You closed your eyes and suddenly you felt him kiss your cheek.

“Stay,” He whispered against your skin.

“He’ll call to check on me,” You stressed. “I can’t.”

“He won’t.” If his words were meant to comfort you they had the opposite effect. He reached down to remove your shoes. After they were off he proceeded to strip you of your dress as well, leaving you only in your underwear.

You shivered as the two of you moved to lay on top of the unmade bed. You laid with your back against his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you. You laid in silence until you inevitably started to give in to your exhaustion. You fought to stay awake, to hold on to the moment for just a little while longer.

But soon, you fell asleep in Elvis’ arms…for the last time.

You woke the next morning to find a plain white envelope resting on the pillow beside your head. You lifted the envelope to read the name scribbled across the front.

Birdie.

You sat up slowly, searching the room with your eyes. You were alone. You opened the envelope to find a familiar necklace—holding two rings and a diamond-studded lark charm. You immediately folded the envelope shut and rushed to get dressed. You wanted to be out of the room in case he returned.

You needed to get out as fast as possible. You heard Elvis’ voice from the night before telling you that you couldn’t outrun the guilt you felt—but that didn’t stop you from trying. As you left the room, you left the envelope where it was. You didn’t want it, and leaving it made you feel better. When you walked out of the room you ran into Jerry, who had seemingly been waiting outside the door.

“Oh, hey,” He said, pushing off of the wall.

“J-Jerry,” You stammered, embarrassed.

“He asked me to make sure you made it back.” He interrupted.

“Oh…it’s just right there~”

“I gave him my word.” He interrupted again.

You nodded awkwardly. “Okay then.”

Jerry nodded his head in return. “After you.”

You turned and started walking back to your room. There was an awkward silence as he watched you cross the hall.

“Thanks,” You said when you got there.

“I’ll be around when you leave for Dawn’s. Just give me a shout when you go.” He turned to walk away without another word.

“J-Jerry,” You said before he left. “I’m sorry~”

“Don’t~”

“I know Joel’s your cousin a-and you shouldn’t have to be dragged into this~”

“Don’t apologize,” He said. “Not to me anyway.”

“I’m going to tell him.”

“You should.”

You shifted awkwardly. “I-I don’t want you to think~”

“I don’t think anything,” He said. “It’s a shame, of course but Joel…he’s just a kid.”

You were confused by his response. “Is that what you think?”

He shifted. “I wouldn’t have told E where he worked if I didn’t think he’d get over losing you.”

“What’s that mean? Was this some kind of set up?”

“No…this was always gonna happen.”

You were in shock as he walked away, he seemed completely unapologetic about his role in this entire situation. You felt like an idiot.

You cut the trip short for yourself and called Dawn to let her know. She was sad for you go and made you promise to call. You drove home in silence, the sound of your engine ticking the only thing filling the empty space. You heard Joel’s voice in the back of your mind scolding you for not driving the car enough and causing the tick. He’d pretend to be angry for a moment, then he’d smile and tell you he’d fix it. But only if you promised to “reward his generosity”.

Tears formed in your eyes but you forced them away. You tried to hold them in but ultimately failed when you walked into your house.

You were officially back to reality.

Tears blurred your vision as you showered, cleansing yourself of Elvis’ touch once and for all. You had a knot in the pit of your stomach, it hurt.

You crawled into bed and stayed there for the remainder of the day—well into the night. You didn’t move to eat or even to use the bathroom. You felt detached from yourself and everything else.

Seeing Elvis again, being with him…it made you realize that, maybe, everything you thought you outran had been with you all this time.

The ghost of him and your love had been haunting you since the day you left. It clung to you and showed itself in ways that went unnoticed. It showed itself in the way you loved Joel. It showed itself in the way you waited for your relationship to crash and burn—ignited by the fire you started, the fire you fed.

The ghost of your love for him showed itself in the way you second guess yourself. It showed itself in the way you never thought you knew what was best. Although you had grown to trust yourself more, there was still an infinitesimal part of you that you had every right not to trust. That part of you that was still infected.

You were haunted by him in everything you did. He saw that the moment he laid eyes on you again. He knew that if he called, you’d come.

A lifetime of observation could not aid you in explaining the things you’d do for Elvis Presley. He made you weak, being able to admit that didn’t make you hate it any less.

When the phone rang that night you let it go on ringing. You couldn’t force yourself out of bed in time to catch it anyway. You imagined it was Joel calling, shocked to hear that you’d left Memphis. You cried until you fell asleep. Startling awake from nightmares that you couldn’t remember the details of when you woke.

It was a miserable night filled with shame, regret, and fear.

“There you are.”

“You’re early.”

Joel smiled as you met him at the door, dropping his bags before engulfing you in a hug.

You laughed and returned the embrace. “I didn’t expect you until later. I would’ve gotten dressed.”

After spending the last day and a half lying in bed you had only just started getting ready..

“You look perfect.” Joel pulled away from the hug enough to look down at you. “I missed you.”

“You’re only saying that.” You adjusted his collar, avoiding his eyes. “Seems like Bibby kept you busy this weekend.”

“Not too busy to think of you.” He cupped your chin in his hand, tilting your head and kissing you.

You kissed him back, but something felt…off. You felt off.

“What’s wrong?” You hadn’t even noticed that he’d broken the kiss.

“Nothing.” You forced a smile. “I missed you too.”

You stood up on your toes and kissed him again before pulling away to grab one of his bags.

“Don’t worry, sugar, I’ll get it.”

“I got it.” You chuckled, picking up the smallest bag.

He grabbed his suitcase, watching you with an amused expression. “Don’t hurt yourself, now.”

You laughed, walking ahead of him into the bedroom. Before you could take the bag to the closet Joel was already wrapping his arm around your waist. He pulled you towards the bed, making you drop the carryall in the process.

You complained as he plopped down on the bed with you in his arms, your robe nearly coming undone. “Don’t do that.”

“Something I ain’t seen before under there?” He teased, laying on his side facing you.

“You surprised me, that’s all.”

“How was the trip back?”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry I left.”

“You couldn’t help it.”

He propped himself up on his elbow. “What’d you get up to while I was gone?”

You hesitated for a moment. “…Nothing.”

His eyebrows drew together. “You didn’t make book club on Sunday?”

“No.”

“Did you go to dinner with Sinclair and Marc?”

“No.”

He looked disappointed. “Well…why not?”

You shrugged. “When I drove back the car was making that ticking sound again.”

“I don’t like when you’re alone while I’m gone.”

“I was fine, Jo, honestly.”

“I know, still I don’t like picturing you by yourself all weekend.” He sighed. “It makes me feel bad.”

“Don’t feel bad,” You said. “I can take care of myself.”

His eyes were focused past you, his lips pursed.

“Baby,” You said, making him meet your eyes. “I promise.”

“I worry about you.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, putting his arm over your waist. “It’s okay.”

“The car is ticking, though.” You reiterated.

“It’s your fault for not driving it,” He said, a trace of a smile on his face. “You’re killing the engine.”

You smiled without effort for a moment.

“If you ain’t gonna drive it, I might as well let it go to shit,” He said, making you laugh. “I’m serious. Or sell it, one.”

“I take it out as often as I can,” You said. “You’ll fix it for me, won’t you?”

“Only if I’m generously compensated for my labor.”

“How will I ever repay you?”

“I have a few ideas.”

“…At least wash the airport off first.”

Joel laughed, kissing your cheek before going to shower. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” You promised as he disappeared into the bathroom. Your smile faded slowly as that feeling returned, that guilty feeling. You had hoped it would go away when Joel got home. You’d hoped that if you tried, you could move on and forget the whole thing ever happened. But his presence seemed to have the opposite effect.

The feeling was growing more intense.

No matter how hard you tried to ignore it, it was still there. It made everything feel different, even as you made love that afternoon. If Joel noticed that something was off he didn’t say anything. He held you like he usually did and made you laugh as he told you about his trip. You couldn’t keep up as he jumped from story to story, your mind was too preoccupied by the secret driving a wedge between the two of you. As you listened to him, you wondered if he noticed.

“I told him I’d deal with it tomorrow.” You tuned back in to what he was saying. “I’m technically supposed to be off for three days after traveling jobs but he’s up a creek with this one.”

“You’re always there for him,” You said. “He’s lucky to have you.”

“I guess.”

“No, he really is.”

He laughed a little, kissing your bare shoulder. “I love you.”

You don’t deserve him.

You closed your eyes. “I love you too.”

“Let’s go out tonight,” He suggested.

“I was going to cook.”

“I want to take you out.”

“Do you think I’ll go insane if I don’t leave the house?” You asked, looking over your shoulder.

“No.” He smiled. “You should get out anyway.”

“I guess I’ll get ready.”

“Ten minutes.” He tightened his grip on you. “I don’t wanna let you go.”

“Five minutes.”

“Fifteen.”

“That’s not how negotiations work~”

“Fine, I guess twenty will just have to do.”

You laughed as he threw his leg over yours for good measure. “Is this why you’re Bibby’s top sales negotiator?”

“Yeah, I just hold folks down until they give in,” He said. “It’s working, isn’t it?”

“It’s working,” You chuckled, laying your head down. You’re a liar and a cheat. You don’t deserve him. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He kissed your shoulder again. “I love love you.”

“Love love, huh?”

“Love love love, even.”

“That’s just overkill.”

He laughed. “There’s no such thing when it comes to you.”

You don’t deserve~

“I love love love you too.”

You had to tell him. You knew that was the only way to put an end to the guilt threatening to consume you.

You couldn’t eat, you couldn’t sleep, you were anxious all the time. Keeping a secret of that magnitude wasn’t an option—it was killing you.

Things had been going so well. Convention season was over, Joel was home more often and you were happy. As happy as you could manage to be. You tried to find a moment to break the news, but there was no such thing as a good time in this situation.

Joel had been working all morning when you decided to bite the bullet. You figured it would be the best since he didn’t have work for a couple days. Not that having time off would make it any easier on him. You were grasping for any reason to either put off or justify telling him. There was no right time or place.

You were pacing in the kitchen when he got home, a worried look on your face.

“Hey,” He said, meeting you.

“How was your day?”

“It was a day.” He sighed tiredly, kissing your cheek. “Bibby’s secretary—his cousin Marcy, you know her—she got something mixed up with the books. He doesn’t think they’ll break even unless we get a few more cars off the lot before the end of the month. He wants me to come back today and help him. He said he’d call but I think I’ll just go.”

You deflated before you could think not to.

“Is that okay?” Joel asked. “I don’t have to, I was just tryna help if I could~”

“N-No, it’s fine.”

“What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “Nothing, it can wait.”

“Can it?” He asked. “You look upset.”

“I’m not.” You lied. “It’s fine.”

“Tell me.” You stepped back when he reached out for you. “Baby, what is it?”

“I’m sorry,” You said, leaning against the counter behind you. “I-I’ll tell you later.”

“I want you to tell me now.” He insisted. His expression grew more concerned when he saw the tears forming in your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” You repeated. “I’m so sorry, Joel.”

“Why are you crying?” He asked, stepping forward and putting his hands on your shoulders.

You met his worried eyes. “I-I…I had an affair.”

He didn’t hear you at first and he ducked his head when you looked away, trying to meet your eyes. “You what?”

“I had an affair,” You stated more clearly.

He looked confused when you looked up. “…With who?”

You swallowed harshly, you didn’t want to say it, but you forced it out. “E-Elvis~”

The phone rang, startling you. Joel was frozen for a moment before he pulled away from you to answer.

“H-Hello?” He turned his back to you. “Bibby, I…yeah, I-I know, I can be there if you just give me half an hour…Just~ yeah….yeah. For fuck’s sake, Bibby, okay.”

He slammed the phone back on the hook, standing there without moving.

“Joel~”

“Don’t…don’t say anything to me.” He walked away, towards the bedroom.

You followed him with a string of futile apologies leaving your lips. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me~”

“Elvis Presley.” He stopped suddenly and faced you. “You had an affair…with Elvis fucking Presley?”

“I can explain~”

“Who are you?” He looked angry, but hurt shone through his expression more clearly.

“It’s me, Joel.” You reached out for him but he avoided your touch. “I’m me.”

“Have I not done right by you?” He asked, stepping away from you. “Have I not done everything I could~”

“You have~”

“When?”

You fell silent, frozen. You felt like cowering under his gaze.

“When?” He demanded.

“When you were in Virginia with Bibby.”

“As soon as I left?”

“N-No~”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t say you don’t know!” You startled in surprise at his sudden change of tone. “People don’t do this kinda shit for no reason.”

“I-I d-don’t know,” You stammered.

“Yeah, okay.” He walked away. “You don’t know? Alright, fine.”

Joel had never yelled at you in all the time that you’d known him. Even when you argued he’d never raise his voice.

You did this.

This was your fault.

You snapped out of your shock and followed him to the bedroom. You found him in the closet pulling his clothes off the rack by the hangers. “Please don’t leave.”

He scoffed, throwing the clothes onto the bed before dragging his suitcase out of the closet.

“Please,” You cried. “I’m s-sorry, I-I’ll~ I can explain.”

He zipped his clothes into the suitcase haphazardly. “I don’t want to hear anything from you. I don’t even want to see you right now.”

“It was a mistake. I regretted it as soon as it happened.”

“But it happened.” He stopped for a second. “It fucking happened.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not okay.” He lifted the suitcase off the bed.

“Don’t go,” You continued to plead as you followed him out of the room.

“I have to.” He stopped at the front door and looked at you. “I have to go because I told Bibby I’d be there, and when I make a commitment, I honor that commitment.”

“I know~”

“It doesn’t matter what you say,” He said, the anger behind his voice already fizzling out and turning into hurt. “I love you, I trusted you, and you…It’s always been him, hasn’t it? Since the day you left Memphis.”

“No~”

“You left because of him.” He sounded so sure. “This whole time, I’ve had this feeling—since we met in that restaurant. This feeling that you were hiding something~

“No~”

“~I couldn’t figure it out. I didn’t care, because I loved you. And I thought you loved me~”

“I do love you,” You insisted.

“But you love him too…don’t you?”

The tears you wanted to cry finally formed in your eyes. “I love you, Joel. I only want you.”

Joel nodded, balling his lips as tears threatened to form in his eyes. “I just don’t believe you.”

Your stomach dropped when he turned to leave. The thing you had feared the most was happening and it was your fault.

He was leaving you.

You spoke through a broken sob. “I-I know I messed up a-and it’s my fault. I hate myself for h-hurting you, Joel, I just~ I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

The room was silent for a moment aside from your sniffling. You felt Joel move towards you and you stepped away. Of course he’d comfort you, even now when you least deserved it. He took your wrists and pulled your hands from your face. You kept your head down as he took your face in his hands and thumbed away the tears.

Everything was caving in on you and you had no one to blame but yourself. Things were going so well. You were happy, you were in love, and you ruined it.

You ruin everything.

Joel shocked you by tilting your head back and kissing you. You gripped the front of his shirt, tasting your own tears on his lips.

He stopped suddenly and met your eyes—tear stained and full of shame and regret. He pulled away as if he’d come to his senses all of a sudden. Without so much as another, he turned around and picked up his abandoned suitcase—leaving you there alone and completely shattered.

#elvis presley #elvis smut #elvis x you #elvis imagine #austin butler #elvis fluff #elvis presely smut #black reader #elvis x black reader #the bikeriders #50s elvis #austin elvis imagine #austin!elvis x reader #60s elvis #interracial love #elvis #elvis x reader #elvis x y/n

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slova-the-necromancer · 8 months ago

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a dive into the symbolism in "forged in fog"

exactly how the title of the post sounds, i have this so insanely on the mind and i wanted it in a slightly easier format than google docs to have accessible. while i'm at it, too, i'd like to share my thoughts and possibly hear others on the matter. more specifically, this is about tome 14, so..yappening under the cut.

SO. when i was in between classes today, i was looking at tarhos's tome armor/the rift outfit that you got for that tome. most notably, taking a magnifying glass to the symbolic concept of "hear no evil/see no evil" represented in the helmet, and looking a lot at the in-game description saying something along the lines of how he was made to wear that by his lord. see below, looking at the hands over the ears and the eyes.

this led me down a REALLY deep rabbit hole in regards to the origins of this old western proverb that we are all so familiar with, and most notably at first, i found 2.

the four wise monks from buddhism, dating back to ancient china. practicing right mindfulness, right speech, right action, and right livelihood.

from that concept in buddhism came another interpretation from 14th century japan, the three wise monkeys. mizaru, roughly meaning "does not see," kikazaru, or "does not hear," and iwazaru, or "does not speak.

the problem i found with trying to link these interpretations back to the tome is that neither of these have any relation to the italian renaissance. the italian renaissance was, obviously, a christian/catholic renaissance. at this point in history, buddhism was very largely untouched by the west, and this held true until around the 19th century. this isn't even BEGINNING to count the isolationist policies of 14th century southeast asia. apologies if some stuff here is wrong, this is NOT my field of study!

this is a problem because, as we know, tarhos and vittorio are dated from 1391, and historians pretty generally agree that the renaissance has its origins in the 14th century. it's really more...the span of the renaissance that's argued. there's some pretty blatant symbolism here that doesn't make MUCH sense to have reached 14th century italy, even for a nobleman such as vittorio who, like most, was probably a sponsor in the arts and exploration. by this point in my research, i really just started bitching about the historical accuracy-- or rather, inaccuracy-- and how BHVR really seems to prioritize aesthetics over period-relevance.

BUT!!! a little bit more reading brought me to look further into confucius and his teachings!

according to national geographic, "The main idea of Confucianism is the importance of having a good moral character, which can affect the world around a person through the idea of cosmic harmony. This moral character is achieved through the virtue of ren, or 'humanity,' which leads to more virtuous behaviors, such as respect, altruism and humility." so huh! just based on that, it really kind of feels like we're onto something based on the characterization of vittorio that BHVR gives us. (from what i'm aware of, i'm more of a tarhos guy)

confucius writes in The Analects in chapter 12, "Yen Yuan asked about perfect virtue. The Master said, "To subdue one's self and return to propriety, is perfect virtue. If a man can for one day subdue himself and return to propriety, an under heaven will ascribe perfect virtue to him. Is the practice of perfect virtue from a man himself, or is it from others?' Yen Yuan said, 'I beg to ask the steps of that process.' The Master replied, 'Look not at what is contrary to propriety; listen not to what is contrary to propriety; speak not what is contrary to propriety; make no movement which is contrary to propriety.' Yen Yuan then said, 'Though I am deficient in intelligence and vigor, I will make it my business to practice this lesson.'" i feel like this in and of itself can be seen as symbolic of best-case scenario tarhos and vittorio, because it is ABUNDANTLY clear that this path to enlightenment is virtually nonexistent for the former-- tarhos is more the one prattling on and on about foolishness towards vittorio, not himself. but here we see the roots that buddhism and, by extension, japanese philosophy both pull from, confucius defining propriety as "proper behavior and interactions."

from here, i made an effort to link this idea back to the italian renaissance. it's all speculation of whether or not there was really any confucian influence in the italian/european renaissance-- we're looking at a time about 400-ish years before deistic teachings emerged (god as the secondary driving force, morality and humanity first and foremost as the number one influence. think martin luther and voltaire). here, we're looking more at very early/preliminary enlightenment, so very philosophical, less scientific. i won't say objective because NOTHING in history is objective. here's what we know in regards to possible relevance:

confucian's teachings weren't really translated until the 17th century by the jesuits.

in the later half of the 13th century, the polos returned to venice after a few excursions to china, reaching as far as what is known now as modern day beijing.

in the mid-to-late-ish 14th century, there was a cessation of european roman-catholic missionaries and merchants from china after establishment of the ming dynasty, and reestablishment of ethnic han rule.

it feels a little bit like a big nothing burger here, so at this point, i'm kind of about ready to throw my hands up and say whatever, i'm putting more thought into this than BHVR has.

now, i'll run through the actual interpretations of the proverb, much less "how did they even KNOW about this??"

the proverb has multiple meanings, as many ideas in philosophy do.

from a glass half full standpoint, we can look at it like...this is the peak of spiritual consciousness. living with an awareness of what we take in, what we see, what we hear, how we act, and what we say. we have the power, as the individual, to choose to see what is right with people, as opposed to what is wrong with them.

from a glass half empty standpoint, this can all be taken the exact same way but sort of flipped on its head a little bit. instead of the active choice being made by the individual to do all of these things, it can be seen as practicing willful ignorance. seeing the bad in making the choice to not acknowledge wrongdoing, to ignore the world around us, to pick and choose the things and ideas that confirm our biases of human nature and the "inherent goodness" of people.

both of these interpretations for SURE apply greatly to the forged in fog lore in general. again, not a vittorio guy, but i see him more as the former, seeking enlightenment and knowledge and doing so peacefully, while tarhos's criticisms of him and of noble society is the latter.

tarhos views the nobles and the knights as cowards that are shielding themselves from and wrapping themselves in the security of this idea of justice, choosing only to see and hear the good when their actions and legacies are just absolutely...bathed in blood. a bloody legacy that they are choosing to ignore. people who practice willful ignorance being so far up on their own high horse that they just can't look down and see the people that they are trampling into the ground. tarhos as this superior moral being-- how he KNOWS he's evil and he doesn't deny it, but it's the fact that these same exact people pick and choose what to praise him for. this begs the questions from him...what makes the atrocities he commits righteous and honorable? is it only worthy of praise when he's receiving a paycheck for them?

FINALLY getting into the design of the armor now holy shittt.

all of those ideas, ultimately leading up to THIS, is why BHVR's choice of depicting the physical representation of this proverb onto tarhos-- the exact OPPOSITE of someone that would willingly uphold these ideals-- is so unbelievably interesting to me. the personification of see no evil and hear no evil forced onto him by his employer, who he views as some...self-righteous douchebag, and what to him, feels like just downright ignorance and foolishness.

in the video, too, we see tarhos committing these atrocities that are outlined in the tome lore. he's killing, pillaging, thieving, what have you, and by the end of it?

a VERY VERY nice and up close and personal shot of that helmet, of that symbol of good morals and proper conduct, of propriety. we see the streaks on the hands covering the eyes, honestly probably dripping blood but also looks veiny and reminiscent of like...corruption and how that's depicted in art, or maybe some cracks in the visage we see. and then, the zoom out shot of him stabbing the sword into the man, giving us a pretty clear juxtaposition of just absolutely bastardizing and twisting this ideal that stems from good faith.

the final shot that we see at the end of the video gives us a good view of the cape, too. on it is what is universally know as the scales of justice, but we can see that the scales are tipped-- and i know that's not just the cape moving because you can see it earlier on in the video, too, this is just a more clear shot of him walking away from the scene. i unfortunately got a not great screenshot of the cape being a little straighter ough. justice in a literal representation of the ideals of vittorio, yes, but also, perhaps a new, metaphorical representation of the scales of justice tipped in favor of tarhos's idea of what it means? of the way that he views himself as the judge, jury, and executioner? like this decision of his is what weighs the scales down in his favor.

fin.

if anyone made it this far, i'd be happy to hear any other thoughts! of course, this is non-exhaustive-- again, in regards to the history of it, not my circus, not my monkeys, i'm just a guy that likes the knight a little bit too much. plus i myself might expand on this some more and edit it a little, too, because in my lots and lots of searching, i saw arguments that the "virtue politics" of the italian renaissance have some striking similarities to confucianism. my school library has a book on that that i'm planning on taking out later this week.

TLDR; i crave historical accuracy, and pieces of lore that i can put together like a puzzle. in regards to accuracy, it feels like BHVR took 3 different puzzles together in a box and just shook it up. historical accuracy aside though, the symbolism is SO GOOD. yum yum yum BHVR please release the knight cosmetic in the shop already.

#squid is squeaking #dead by daylight #dibby doo #tarhos kovacs #tarhos kovács #the knight dbd #also i think tarhos and vit are actually so #if hes your man then why is he MY narrative foil?

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