#so maybe if you bring in more people you do love and care for you might feel something

[star2fishmeg]

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ

Pairing | Luke Hughes x afab!reader Summary | (comfort angst, fluff) | all it took was a terrible headache for y/n to break and really tell Luke what was wrong, and he provides the best remedy Authors Note | please accept this blurb based on a dream caused by a criminal headache I had while I get through celly blurbs and my inbox🥺

The headache that’d haunted her all day only pounded worse, pain relief only doing so much to ease the aching. Luke felt useless, there was only so much he could do and taking the pain away was not one of them. All he could do was gently caress her thigh hooked over his legs and hold her to his chest, arm wound around her waist and providing a kiss on her forehead every now and then. 

Her fingers traced feathery patterns over his skin, changing between his chest and following the ridges of his abs down to his v-line, feeling the heat that radiated off his body and embracing hers. They lay in silence, listening to breathing fall into sync and the video quietly playing from Luke’s phone and her brain worked overtime, the cogs turning and falling into the deepest pits of the human conscience, comments she’d read and heard emerging from her memory. The gossip pages, the media, other girlfriends and wives and maybe they were right. Maybe she wasn’t right for him; not mature enough, not established enough, not flexible enough and not pretty enough. 

Wetness seeped onto his bare skin, and he closed his phone, placing it onto the sheets before cupping her cheek, “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’, head just hurts.” She slid her hand over his stomach, cuddling into him but his fingers took her jaw, tilting her head up to face him. Worry spread across his face, eyes widening softly, eyebrows pulling together slightly.

“Y/n…” he said concerned, “talk to me, what’s it you always tell me? We’re a team?”

She paused and sighed, “Jus’...sometimes the people are right, I don’t deserve you. You’re this big-time, hotshot hockey player and I have nothing to my name, jus’ some chick.”

His grip around her tightened and he let her face go, slowly pulling her on top of his body completely, with consideration to the pounding in her head. Luke never liked the media and knew it came with his career, but when it impacted the people he loved the most, then he had a personal problem with it. His jaw tensed when more tears spilt onto his chest silently.

“Oh, angel,” Luke’s hand settled on the back of her head tenderly, brushing loose strands of hair away from her face while his arm secured around her middle, “who said that? You know that’s not true-” “-but it just is, Lu. Not a thriving model, not a career woman, just y/n who still relies on her parents half the time. Getting a part-time job has been tragic and while you’re working your ass off out there, I’m just sitting around.” She sobbed, Luke’s stomach twisting and he kissed her head. 

He’d never been confident in sharing how he felt, never being able to find the right words but with so much adrenaline and heartache running through his system, they seemed to fall off his tongue with a rawness to them. 

“But you’re not just ‘some chick’. That’s why I love you. You’re y/n. You’re a student who’s graduating soon, in a field she enjoys and you’re literally only twenty. Just because you aren’t living a life someone else is, doesn’t make you any less of a person. I don’t care that you’re not a public figure or whatever. Actually, I like that you aren’t and wish we went to college together because that would’ve been cool, so many parties to make out at. My point is that you bring normality, and I don’t care if you have a job or not, I’m always gonna support you in everything because I love you.” 

Y/n’s lip quivered, heart swelling as the sweet confession soaked into her ears. Typical Luke, even when he didn’t realise it, he always knew what to say. She pushed herself up onto her forearms, palms flat on his chest and his hands followed the curve of her spine up to her shoulder blades and down to her ass, soothingly with a small, comforting smile. 

He cupped her cheek, using his thumb to wipe one of her eyes before she melted into his palm, “Thank you, I love you so much.”

She leant in, pressing a long and slow kiss to his lips, moaning when he groped her ass and giggling. He didn’t mind taking that extra breath if it meant he could listen to her giggle and light up again. Luke slid his hand to the back of her neck, goosebumps running along her skin, and he pulled her into another adoring kiss. A kiss worth a thousand more words, with warmth, a deep kiss with his mouth opening to invite her tongue to meet his and lick into her mouth. She was just y/n and Luke wouldn’t have had it any other way.

[deesseshesca]

PAC : Letter from your pregnant self (HIS POV) 18+

I got beef with men but ... what else is new ?

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PILE 1

MY BEEF...any way thank you so much for coming through. Girl you better like it, he got me working fucking overtime. Actually all of them did ...

(LINK TO YOUR READING ... YES IT IS FREE AND ON TUMBLR ... MERRY CHRISMAS)

PILE 2 

Both of y’all are only child that were raised to be anxious over achiever. Parents are never there. I keep hearing : ‘’Super rich kids with nothing but loose ends. Super rich with nothing but fake friends…’’

Letter suppose to be for you but instead he wrote it for your baby.

Dear Lucetta (Various ethereal ‘’L’’ name came through. Other name that came through : Lysandra, Lysianne and Lucretia) 

Daddy messed up (This man is bawling. I mean breakdown and everything. He tries to be strong but for the sec that he admits that, tears are overflowing. If he was actually writing the letter they would be teardrop on the letter). Daddy is nothing but an asshole. I should not write this right … Your mama is going to get mad when she realizes how I butcher your vocabulary (yellow laugh ( french : rire jaune) … idk how to explain it in english). Fuck … You deserve a fucking good letter. That’s the least I can fucking do … yeah that’s the least I can do. Mama decorate your room like the royalty you are meant to be. The tapestry tailored in Spain in an accent of gold and soft pink are all over the walls. Made sure to ask the maid to polish the wooden floor until she can see herself in it. She actually sent me in here to check the oxygen cleanliness of your room. First wtf is air cleanliness. Second when the fuck did they created a damm machine for that shit. Lastly, you are not even there … Sorry baby … I love you more than anything but your mama is gone mad with the way she’s preparing for you. I never understood when  my poor friends complain about rich people's spending habits.  Now I am standing in the room section reserved for your room oxygen. I can help but run a hand in my hair and agree. (Another yellow laugh (rire jaune) before falling down on his knees and crying. Give him a couple minute y’all he needs to catch his breath … ) You're going to cost me so much baby. I never care for my trust fund, finances or even money but I am asking the family accountant to come to me first thing in the morning for the 4th this month. I hope I have enough money ( and for some of y’all … gold … liquid gold …iykyk). I know Mr. (His dad's name) has enough money in the bank but maybe is not enough. Maybe you need more than the couple millions we have. Maybe you need more than the properties we own. Maybe you need fucking more than an oxygen regulator machine. Maybe you need a whole lung doctor. Yes… you  need a nutritionist, a child psychologist … Does the baby have a tutor ? Fuck you need it. Baby just said and daddy will get it. You understand everything you want daddy get. You want a hug, a kiss, for me to count all the stars in the sky to describe how much he loves … done. You need me to buy the moon for you … done. You need me to resurrect  Leonardo Devinci so he can paint you in all your glory … done. There’s nothing I would not give to you but the thing that makes my heart ache is the way I crave intimacy with you. Can’t wait to hold you in my hands. Can’t wait to touch your littles toes. Can’t wait to see your lips pout like your mama when she is done with my mess. Can’t wait to see you grow. I promise princess I will never make second ever again. I will go to every parent meeting at school, bringing you to all your ballet, opera, harp, fencing, horse ridding whatever fucking classes your mom has for you; I will never miss your school competition and I will listen to all your house show you will produce to show yourself off. I don’t care if I am in a meeting, I will always have time for you. I will always have time to remind you how much I love you, how pretty you are, how much you matter and how much of a blessing you are just because you are. Yes… just because is you,  baby. Forgive daddy please. I know I am not in a position to ask you for anything especially after giving up on you for so long but if you don’t make it out of the NICU … mommy may never make it out. We both made her suffer enough. 

Please baby (damm he's whimpering in pain, choking on tears) stay with us. 

YOUR DADDY. 

Don’t worry you are not dead or close to it ( in the physical form at least …), you are being monitored at the hospital. I am getting traumatic labor (I should do a PAC about it) not because of pain but because of blood. You may have not lost your water but blood. I see you laughing at some joke the father of your baby did. Not a single care in the world. Girl your hair is perfect, if you have a Dyson and are working to perfect your blowout … just so you know you are the blowout queen in a couple years. Skin glowing, you look so pretty pregnant. That baby was really the blessing that changed your life forever. You are wearing a 2 piece white set … boom blood. You touch and look at your man. I keep hearing : ‘’ nononono … that can’t be it. (HIS NAME !) It can’t be … my baby. 

This whole letter  has nothing to do with the cards so let’s dive … shall we ? (Intuition took over …)

First you guys were both extremely hardworking workers. Never had time ( and also if I may … never learn ) to create deep bonds. I see both people living in their own penthouse. Yours has more of a Victorian look and his is more modern. You may have a white cat. 

You met at the work gala. I see 2 people look at each and accept y’all fate. 

You start fucking. The deal was perfect. He needed a woman that was not going to get attached to his riches. You needed a man that’s not trying to fix your cold heart. 

I see y’all literally planning to have sex like it’s a meeting … I think y’all use it to blow some steam annoyed by your empty life, useless parents and annoying coworkers. 

At first just fucking, no aftercare, clothe back on and on the go. Then he cracks a joke and you giggle which makes you stay 5 minutes longer. Then he charms you while cooking dinner for you before you leave. Then you spend more and more time together… Now he grabs you a snack and y’all always watch a kid show. He complains about how dumb the character is but you enjoy the deep dive he’s doing without even realizing it. 

You are not wrong, there's a lot of things he doesn't realize. He doesn't realize how much he craves connection. He doesn't realize how much he craves intimacy with you. When asked why ? Is it because you allow him to be ( do you realize the synchrony with the letter … anyway sometime my psychic surprise me 2 girl) 

You took the pregnancy test together and he joke on the fact it was getting terminated and not to stress so much but a light a hope awaken in your  heart for the first in soooo fucking long but you brush it off and went on the same page as him. Not because of him but because ‘’ you the fuck has time for a kid anyway’’ (your word not mine). 

Then you heard the baby's heartbeat and you cut all contact with him. Someday at the beginning of your second trimester you text him paragraphs upon paragraph on how you kept the baby, how it was never to hurt him, but for the first time in your life you felt hope and it felt like you needed to hold on to it. That you don’t know how but you are going to make it. 

He will villainize you and block you. One of your close friend is going to send them drunk voice memo in the middle of the third semester announcing him is a girl between cursing the fuck out. WAKE UP CALL FOR MISTER. 

He comes back the same day you threw your private luxurious baby shower. 

Some of y’all are Italian 

He has a no relationship with his parents and refuses 2. Calling them by their first name while you still seek love from them. 

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PILE 3

Dear Red (y’all call each other by colors so anything can fit, just took that one because it came through first) , 

You are resplendent. I know you think I am exaggerating. Or maybe you think I am only talking this sweet because everything is new ( I just heard : ‘’ The talk is cheap …’’ Lol this one is sassy) but baby I can put my hand the fire that I would still go that hard for you in 30 years when you boobs going to sag, your face will wrinkles from all the time I am going to make you laugh and you have grey hair just like mine ( You : YAH! Stop that in 30 years we are not going to be this old … you dumb fuck. I swear too God this fucking skincare better work. You better stop being goofy .. I want to be a MILF. You know, that is one of my life goals … GIRL YOU BETTER TELL HIM; Me: (choking on my laugh) Now… Why am I getting yelled at ?). Can’t never forget when I saw your sexy ass that day at the beach. I did not think … yeah I can’t wait to fuck it and make her yell my name (ok can’t lie it was my very next thought) nahhh, baby I was hook by the way the sun was making your skin glow. The tattoo on your body is a telling story before my eyes but you know I never wear my damm glasses so I could not read it. Anyway the way your hair flows gracefully with the wind, the way your eyes light up basking in the sun. I knew I had to get a lil mama number. When I first hear your voice … it made me breathless (should have asked for your asthma pump but I did not know you like that at that time but that shows you how much I was starstruck … Almost I had my first asthma attack- You: BABY stop telling my damm business to this lady). Your words, your tone, the way you move with so much elegance … I just knew I hit the jackpot. I would be damm to let you go. I am so proud of having you as mine. I love spending time with you, I love spending money on you, I love kissing you, I love leaving hickeys on you, I love holding your hands, I love texting you, I love making stupid edits of us (Me : the 2014 couple edit … girl … I can’t … you boy is making me cry of laughter). I know everything happens so quickly but you know how you explain me that life is like a book with crystals and your cards with little drawing on it, ( Me : Byeeee I can't, he is trying to explain crystals and tarot cards; Him: Honestly I don’t know about all that … I love hearing her talk about it. I love hearing her talk when she’s excited. I love her voice. The perfect candidate for yap session) anyway my inner child feels so safe and alive with you. I know you feel the same baby girl. Everything is working so effortlessly that must mean we are manifesting something good ( Me : LOL ! He’s talking about the law of attraction). My mom did not even get mad when I announced to her that I got you pregnant (You : Duh she loves me stoopid). You parents loved the fact that we found each other and your dad is as eager as me to formalize our union. Honestly I would marry you anywhere at any time. I told  you from the beginning that you will be my wife and I meant it but I know you want something bigger and so  it’s going to have to wait. That doesn't mean I can’t surprise you with an engagement ring. Standing here with a small group of men allowed to the baby shower, I can’t help but look at you. Your skin tight black dress exposing your full breast and the slide on it showing off your thick thighs. The smile on your face while you act ratchet with your friends ( Him: Damm babe I did not know you could still throw it in a circle 8 months pregnant … you better not say you are tired tonight. I got a plan for both of us) letting yourself go not a single care in the world. This is how I want you to be forever. Not a single care in the world, always full of joy and love and helping you achieve all your goals. Baby I know, it was quick but I swear it is only the beginning of the most beautiful love story. I am going to work hard until my last breath to keep the spark going. 

YOUR ONE AND ONLY MAN 

HIM 

Again wtf is wrong with those men. At first they did not want to work with me … now they are good ? To the point of making me over work …smh.

Yes, you guess it … it was an intuitive letter now let’s get into the card. 

First I am getting PLUS SIZE ! Yes, very thick and curvy women.  Now I understand why I wanted to write a bigger butt earlier … your man loves the curves baby. That’s does not mean is a fucking fetiche. Like if it is affecting health is going to ask you to fix it. News flash loser fat people can have an active life and still be fat. He never forces you to achieve any kind of weird kink. 

Y’all may be giving yourself too easily to men. I am getting that since they only see you for your body. You prefer existing than being invisible (like when you were child, some of y'all have been big since childhood. You were not really bullied but very ignored. People were ashamed to associate with you). Right now I see you are at the beginning of your elf love journey. You are making healthy food choices, spending time mastering a hobby : crystal, tarot, knitting or some other heels dancing. YOU GO GIRL ! Regarding men you still give yourself easily, some even tell you they don’t like you. They just fuck you because you are easy. You accept it and let them take you to pound town anyway. 

This man is going to help you tremendously in your self love journey … you have no fucking idea. You are going to glow more, stop eating your feelings, love yourself, have boundaries with your environment ( idk when the world decides that we have to give less respect to rounder people but anyways …), you will dress more provocatively and wear way more colors. Speak your mind more and be confident in yourself. 

Baby say goodbye to boring sex and say hello to sex toys. Rejoice, babe rejoice you deserve it. Let me tell you something he is pleasure dom … Girl he's going to make you orgasm like it is a damm sport. You better hold on because the night is going to be long. Pussy swollen from overstimulation, ass hurting from spanking and hickeys everywhere. Not him having the audacity to ask you to ride him after all that … anyways chile let me go. 

He gets so hard whenever you talk about spirituality. If you are witch prank by performing some sex magick on him, this man would be sooo proud to be your little helper while you are doing some spell.

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2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

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PILE 4 

Judgement (reverse), King pentacles, 4 wands (reverse), page of cups (reverse) 

I put the card because I want to show that I actually try to do the reading at first but the energy aint it. Somebody had an awful pregnancy especially because of an awful baby daddy. Like he dragged you to the filth, made you cry and cheated on you. Even gave you an STD for some of y’all. Since than he calm the fuck down. He tries to come through like a nicer person  but he made sure to make me understand he doesn't love you so I don't want him. I ain't wasting my time for something he can text. Then his younger self came through … boy bye with your filthy energy. 

So I kept trying because I had to feed you guys … Then your future husband came through but you were still not pregnant so … it was kind of useless for me … But then I understood that y’all are actively trying and that's good enough for me. 

No cards … straight intuition ( I don’t  want this filthy energy to come through again) 

Dear Малышка, Солнышко, Киса (ain't going to lie … I google the most popular and line it up. He ain't going to call you all that. Also I am really getting eastern Europe and I know they all have their own language but most of them somehow got colonized by Russia in some way shape or form. But if he’s from Poland then he will use his language. He’s from Lithuania, he will use his language … You catch the drift) 

(before we get into anything … thick, thick accent), fuck I want you. I need you. Like all the time. You ain’t make it easy for me Малышка. One day you welcome me home with a long white robe, hair in a perfect intricate bun and makeup a bit oily. That's how I know our kid did not let you rest. You only had  time to take away your clothes before you had to jump in mommy mode. Other times you tease me by sending me pictures of the lingerie and perfume you are wearing. Swear I hate the fact that I start work so early and finish so late. Oh let me not forget when you took a picture with my computer of you in your favorite brown set. The number of times you give me a blue ball should be illegal. Don’t even get me started when we were invited to the gala, you look so breathtaking … anyways you already know all that. Being a man's desire never was a foreign concept but being in love was one I had to teach you. Every day I rejoice with the idea of spending a whole lifetime loving you and our little bundle of energy. She/He never stops … just like her/his mommy. It took me a while to win over her/his heart. She/He is so protective of your heart. Almost as if he/she everyone in your heart aches when carrying him/her. That’s ok now we are 2 trying to protect you, can’t wait to be 3 humans to love on you. Until then here is the money for the new makeup you wanted to try. 

Love you Малышка. 

LOL ! I swear your future man has some sense of humor. I said the other one he could text you is lame nice word this one came through as a text. 

Also some of you may think he is super old … nah he is around your age. Babe get out the damn book there’s handsome Slavic men your age range in the real world. 

Anyways this man has tattoos and loves metal and goth music. He has moneyyy. I just don’t know the capacity but enough to put you in a luxurious condo and fund your influencer career. 

Lol … I see some of y’all cringing. I don’t think you will do couple content, actually you keep your life extremely private … The only thing people know is the diamond on your finger. I am getting more skincare and makeup content creators. You have a boudoir (beauty room/content room) that’s all we see. When I channeled him, I saw you receiving his message while getting ready to film some content. At that time in your life you are still juggling a 9to5. I mean girl, you are doing it all ! Mommy, corporate baddie, content creator and trophy wife. 

He has a rather dark aesthetic unlike you. You have a quite cute, pink aesthetic but love hardcore metal and goth. 

He came through while I played my NIRVANA playlist.

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

[keehomania]

bad religion — rcm (18+)

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ smut, angst, minors dni, sexually explicit content below the cut, bartender!reader, unrequited love, slowburn, crashout!rafe, nobody understands him like i do, reader lowkey has bob the builder mentality, no religious themes despite the title, dirty talk, gun play, alcohol consumption, drug usage, if it brings me to my knees, it’s a bad religion; this unrequited love

it started off as a way to pay off your student loans—tuition, housing, supplies. the minute you enrolled, you had picked up the job. it was supposed to be temporary, just until you found a better solution, but time had a way of slipping through your fingers. years later, you were still standing behind the counter, wiping spills, pouring drinks, and serving customers whose names you rarely bothered to learn. the debt was gone, long since paid off, but you hadn’t managed to leave. you told yourself it was because the money was decent, but deep down, you knew the truth: you didn’t know where else to go.

the roadside had become something of a second home to you, though a noisy, sticky one. you liked the rhythm of it, the way the nights started off slow and built to a fever pitch, only to settle into a steady hum again by closing time. you liked the regulars, too—the older men who came in after long shifts at the docks or the factory. they nursed beers as if they were lifelines and tipped generously, their wallets loosening with each drink. they were kind, if a little lonely, and they made your job bearable.

the others weren’t as pleasant. there were men with slicked-back hair and gold watches, the kind who brought their wives to brunch in the mornings, but showed up at the roadside every night with someone new on their arm. whiskey neat for him, a bright, sugary cocktail for her—each woman seemingly younger, blonder, and more compliant than the last. they never tipped, and they always left a mess. you hated them the most.

and then there were the tourists. they breezed in like they owned the place, their faces sunburned and shining, and almost always said the same thing: “surprise me.” you never did. you’d pour them a vodka soda with light ice, knowing it would do the job. they didn’t care about flavor or nuance, just speed, and you weren’t about to waste good liquor on someone who wouldn’t appreciate it.

over time, the faces all blurred together. you’d seen so many people come and go that you’d stopped trying to remember them. the roadside was a revolving door, and you preferred it that way. no attachments, no complications.

“on the clock?” you looked up, having been lost in thought, polishing a variety of glasses and setting them away. he was sat in front of you, a look of near disinterest playing on his face. he almost seemed ticked off. the scent of his cologne clashed with the smell of gin. he fashioned a buzzcut, a polo shirt, and a pair of shorts. tan, blond—he’d have been disney’s dream if he was just a few years younger. if he wasn’t so easy to recognize, you would’ve mistaken him for a tourist. “unfortunately,” you responded with an honesty that almost made him smile. “what can i get you?”

for a second, he didn’t respond. you stood in front of him, with nothing but the counter separating you, but it did little to stop either of you from staring. his light blue eyes bored into yours without the faintest shade of shame. there seemed to be a grey hue to them that the photos of him never captured. rafe cameron, what were the chances of him showing up? he had gained a certain reputation thanks to his father, and his tendency to act out in public. maybe it was best if you said nothing. so, you broke the gaze.

“single malt scotch,” he answered, leaning forward against the counter. you nodded, doing your best to ignore the way his eyes followed your every movement, paired with the uncanny order that screamed toxic masculinity. you grabbed the bottle of scotch from the shelf, careful not to let your hands tremble as you poured the amber liquid into a clean glass. the sound of the pour filled the silence between you, and you were hyperaware of his gaze tracking every movement. it wasn’t just curiosity; it felt calculated, as though he were sizing you up, deciding if you were worth his attention.

the scotch settled in the glass, and you slid it across the counter toward him. “here you go,” you announced, your voice steady despite the prickle of unease his presence stirred. rafe pulled out a wallet from his pocket and laid a crisp bill on the counter, more than enough to cover the drink. his movements were deliberate, slow, as if he enjoyed the way it kept you waiting. “keep the change,” he muttered, picking up the glass and taking a measured sip.

you tucked the bill into the register, brushing off the way his tone lingered in the air. glancing around the bar, you noticed a lull in the activity. the older regulars were nursing their drinks, and the tourists had either left or were too absorbed in their own conversations to need you. your eyes drifted to the window, catching sight of a dirt bike parked just outside. its sleek red and black frame stood out against the muted colors of the streetlights.

“that your bike?” you asked, your curiosity slipping through before you could stop yourself. rafe’s lips quirked up slightly as he set his glass down. “yeah, ktm. you know bikes?”

“not really,” you admitted, leaning your hip against the counter. “but it’s a nice one. looks fast.”

“it is.” he took another sip, his eyes still on you. “you like fast things?”

there it was—the subtle shift in his tone, just enough to make the question feel loaded. you raised a brow, refusing to let him get under your skin. “depends on the thing,” you replied coolly. “fast isn’t always better.”

the smirk on his face deepened, and for a moment, he said nothing, just stared at you like he was trying to figure out what made you tick. “you’ve got a mouth on you,” he said finally, his voice low and edged with amusement. “i like that.”

you rolled your eyes, reaching for a rag to wipe down the counter. “and you’ve got a way of talking that screams trouble. i’ll pass.”

“trouble, huh?” he chuckled softly, leaning back in his seat. “you make that judgment on your own, or is that what you’ve heard about me?”

you hesitated. his reputation preceded him, of course. rafe cameron, the kook prince with too much money and too much anger. everyone had a story about him, most of them involving fights, drugs, or some poor girl left heartbroken in his wake. but something about the way he was looking at you now—calm, almost bored—didn’t match the chaos you’d heard about.

“a little of both,” you admitted, meeting his gaze again. “does it bother you?”

“not really,” he said with a shrug. “people are gonna think what they want. doesn’t make it true.”

“doesn’t make it false either,” you shot back, unable to help yourself.

that earned you another smirk, sharper this time. “you always this quick with your customers?”

“only the ones who think they’re special,” you said, the words slipping out before you could second-guess them.

his laugh was soft, but almost genuine, and it caught you off guard. “fair enough,” he said, finishing the last of his scotch. he pushed the glass toward you, the faintest hint of a challenge in his eyes. “one more?”

you nodded, grabbing the bottle again. this time, you didn’t feel the same pressure to avoid his gaze. if he wanted to play games, you could play too. as you poured, you said, “you must get this a lot.”

“what’s that?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“girls falling over themselves for you,” you said bluntly, setting the glass down in front of him. “the charm, the looks, the whole mysterious bad boy act—it’s a lot.”

“act?” he raised a brow, clearly amused. “you think this is an act?”

“isn’t it?” you countered, crossing your arms. “seems a little rehearsed.”

he leaned forward, the movement subtle but deliberate, and suddenly the air between you felt charged again. “if i wanted to charm you,” he said slowly, his voice dropping an octave, “you’d know.”

the heat of his words settled in your chest, but you refused to let it show. instead, you picked up his empty glass and started wiping it clean. “i’ll take your word for it,” you said evenly, refusing to meet his gaze.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. he watched you in silence, his expression unreadable, and you found yourself wondering what was going through his mind. finally, he stood, pulling a set of keys from his pocket.

“thanks for the drink,” he said, his tone cool and detached again. “maybe i’ll see you around.”

“maybe,” you replied, watching as he turned and walked toward the door. his figure disappeared into the night, leaving behind the faint scent of cologne and a lingering tension you couldn’t quite shake. when you glanced out the window again, the dirt bike was gone, its engine a distant hum in the night. you exhaled, realizing only then how tightly you’d been gripping the rag in your hand. he was trouble, no doubt about it. but for some reason, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to regret the encounter.

the walk home was quiet, unsettlingly so. you’d managed to convince one of your co-workers to cover the rest of your shift, citing the lack of customers as a valid reason, but now, as the empty streets stretched before you, you almost wished you’d stayed. the moonlight pooled on the cracked pavement, illuminating a path that felt both too open and too confining. you held your house keys tightly in one hand, the jagged edges digging into your palm like a makeshift weapon. just in case. you weren’t the type to take chances.

your steps were brisk but measured, careful not to echo too loudly. every shadow seemed alive, every sound amplified. a rustle in the bushes had your heart racing, your grip tightening on the keys. it was probably a cat, you told yourself, though your eyes darted back toward the noise every few seconds, just to be sure. the world felt too quiet, too exposed. you hated this part of the night—the vulnerability of it. it wasn’t paranoia, you told yourself, just caution. but still, your mind raced with every worst-case scenario.

when you finally reached your house, relief washed over you like a wave. the sight of the peeling paint and sagging porch might have been depressing to anyone else, but to you, it meant safety. unlocking the door felt like unlocking a barrier between you and the rest of the world. once inside, you locked it again, flipping the bolt twice just to hear the satisfying click. the air inside was stale, carrying the faint scent of cleaning products and something slightly metallic. it wasn’t much, but it was yours. or at least, it was until the lease ran out.

the place was as minimal as it could get. a mismatched thrift store couch dominated the small living room, its cushions worn and sagging in places. a single bookshelf stood in the corner, half-filled with old paperbacks and a few decorative knick-knacks you’d found at a yard sale. the kitchen, visible from the living room, was clean but bare, its counters free of anything that might be considered a luxury. your future depended on saving, on scrimping wherever you could, and every dollar you didn’t spend brought you one step closer to a life that didn’t feel like you were treading water.

you dropped your bag near the door and kicked off your shoes, the weight of the day settling over you like a blanket. collapsing onto the couch, you reached for the remote and flicked the television on. the screen blinked to life, casting a dim blue glow across the room. you scrolled aimlessly through the channels until the news caught your eye.

“...marking the anniversary of ward cameron’s death,” the reporter announced, her voice measured. the screen cut to a montage of images—ward’s face, the cameron estate. “ward cameron, a prominent figure in the outer banks, left behind a legacy of wealth, corruption, and betrayal. his death, which shocked the island community, continues to be a topic of both fascination and controversy.”

you scoffed, sinking deeper into the couch. “apple, tree,” you muttered under your breath, the words bitter and sharp. it was hard not to think about rafe, his cool demeanor and the air of entitlement that clung to him like a second skin. the spawn of the man had left the world behind with a son who seemed a fistfight away from being institutionalized. it was rich people bullshit, all of it, and it infuriated you. they lived in their gilded cages, creating drama out of thin air while people like you scraped by just to keep the lights on.

the reporter continued, delving into ward’s crimes and the ripple effect they’d had on the community, but you tuned her out. it all felt so distant, so removed from your own reality. people like the camerons didn’t have to worry about overdue bills or walking home alone at night. they sneezed, and the rest of the island lined up to wipe their noses.

you grabbed the thin blanket draped over the back of the couch and pulled it over yourself, letting the reporter’s voice fade into background noise. the couch wasn’t comfortable—not really—but it was familiar. it was where you ended most nights, too tired to drag yourself to the bedroom. the faint hum of the television lulled you into a fragile sense of calm, the weight of the day finally giving way to exhaustion.

as you closed your eyes, the image of rafe’s piercing blue stare flitted across your mind, unbidden and unwelcome. you shoved it away, chalking it up to nothing more than an odd encounter. he was a blip on the radar, a momentary distraction in a life too busy for indulgences like curiosity. with a heavy sigh, you let the hum of the television pull you under, the world slipping away as sleep claimed you.

the next day dawned slow and gray, the kind of morning that felt like a continuation of the night before. you went about your routine with mechanical precision, brushing your teeth in the tiny bathroom with its perpetually fogged mirror and peeling wallpaper. breakfast was quick—toast, black coffee, and a glance at the wilted plant by the window you kept forgetting to water. you were out the door before you had time to feel the weight of the day ahead.

the walk to the bar wasn’t long, but it was enough to remind you why you hated mornings. the streets were quiet, but not in the same way as they were at night. this quiet felt temporary, like the city was holding its breath before the chaos of the day began.

at the bar, you fell into the rhythm of the job almost immediately. wiping down counters, setting up glasses, restocking liquor shelves—it was second nature by now. the hours dragged, each one blending into the next as a slow trickle of customers came and went. a few regulars shuffled in for their early beers, their faces as familiar to you as the scratches on the bar top. you greeted them with polite smiles, but your mind was elsewhere.

you didn’t want to admit it, even to yourself, but you half-expected rafe to show up. every time the door swung open, your eyes darted toward it, only to find someone else stepping inside. the anticipation was irritating, like an itch you couldn’t scratch. you told yourself you didn’t care whether he came back or not, but the lie was too obvious to be convincing.

by nightfall, the bar began to pick up. the low hum of conversation grew louder, mingling with the clink of glasses and the faint strains of a classic rock playlist. you stepped outside for a smoke break, needing a moment away from the noise. the air was cool, carrying the faint scent of salt from the ocean. you leaned against the wall, the cigarette in your hand a small comfort against the monotony of the day.

the sound of a motor rumbled in the distance, growing louder until it filled the air. your eyes flicked toward the source, and there he was, pulling up on his dirt bike like he owned the place. the red and black machine gleamed under the dim streetlights, and for a moment, you just watched as he killed the engine and swung a leg over. he took off his helmet, revealing that same buzzcut and piercing blue eyes that had lingered in your mind longer than you cared to admit. he saw you almost immediately, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth as he approached.

“you get lost again?” you called out, unable to resist. your tone was teasing, but the sight of him sent an unexpected jolt through you. “figure 8’s on the other side.”

he chuckled, low and amused, the sound like gravel in his throat. “must’ve taken a wrong turn.” his eyes dropped to the cigarette in your hand, and his smirk deepened. “those things’ll kill you, y’know?”

you scoffed, tapping the ash off the end and watching it scatter to the ground. “not fast enough, obviously.”

“let’s hope not,” he replied smoothly, his gaze steady on yours. “not until i get a glass of scotch.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the faint tug of a smile. “two nights in a row, it must be good.”

he tilted his head, the smirk on his face turning downright devious. “among other things.”

the way he said it sent a chill down your spine, one you couldn’t quite shake as you turned and headed back inside. you heard his footsteps behind you, steady and unhurried, as though he knew exactly where he belonged.

behind the bar, you reached for the bottle of single malt without needing to ask. he took the same seat as the night before, his movements deliberate and lazy, like he had all the time in the world. you poured the drink and set it in front of him, doing your best to ignore the way his eyes seemed to follow your every move.

“caught the news last night,” you said casually as he pulled out his wallet. “sorry for your loss.”

the change in his expression was instant, the smirk wiped clean in less than a second. his jaw tightened, and his light blue eyes grew cold. “don’t be,” he said flatly. “i’m not.”

you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes at the obvious deflection. “he’s your dad, is he not?” you asked, more curious than you should’ve been.

rafe’s lips twitched, but it wasn’t a smile. “sure, why not?” his tone was stoic, detached, and it made you regret bringing it up. the silence that followed was heavy, thick with something unspoken that you couldn’t quite place.

he sipped his drink, his gaze fixed on the counter as though it held answers to questions you didn’t even know how to ask. to you, it was just another reminder of how different your worlds were. but to him, the weight of that silence carried memories he wouldn’t let surface, not here, not now, not ever.

the bar buzzed around you, but for a moment, the two of you might as well have been the only ones there. you busied yourself with wiping down the counter, giving him the space he clearly needed. whatever his relationship with his father had been, it wasn’t your place to pry. but as you glanced at him, you couldn’t help but wonder—what kind of man grew up in the shadow of someone like ward cameron?

you were midway through rinsing a glass when a new customer slid into the seat beside rafe. the man was tall, blond, and sun-kissed, his skin bearing the unmistakable sheen of someone who spent most of their days by the water. his outfit—a white wifebeater and faded shorts—screamed local. rafe stiffened beside him, his easy demeanor shifting as he leaned back in his seat, jaw tightening. the newcomer leaned forward onto the bar, turning his attention to you.

“excuse me?” his voice cut through the background noise, drawing your focus. you walked over, keeping your expression neutral.

“what can i get you?” you asked casually, pulling a towel off your shoulder and tossing it onto the counter.

the man grinned, clearly enjoying himself as he pretended to think. he was already swaying slightly, the telltale sign of someone who’d started drinking well before stepping through your door.

“well,” he began, dragging the word out like it was some profound thought, “i’d ask for a beer, but it depends.” he paused, his smile growing wider. “does the beer come with a phone number?”

you bit back the urge to roll your eyes, a skill you’d perfected over countless encounters like this. leaning forward, you fixed him with a stare so sharp it could cut glass. “a restraining order, actually,” you replied coolly, your voice devoid of humor.

the man laughed, clearly not deterred. if anything, your response seemed to fuel his bravado. “come on, sweetheart,” he said, tilting his head as though to charm you. “what kind of customer service is that?”

you turned away, doing your best to ignore him as you crouched to grab a beer from the fridge. the cool air brushed your skin, offering a brief reprieve from the heat of the room. you popped the cap off the bottle, your back still turned, oblivious to the way the man leaned back in his seat, his eyes glued to the way your jeans stopped below your waist. what you missed, someone else didn’t.

the first crash was deafening, shattering the rhythm of the bar in an instant. you whipped around, the beer in your hand sloshing slightly as your eyes widened at the scene before you.

the blond man was on the ground, sprawled awkwardly, his face contorted in shock and pain. towering over him was rafe, his knuckles already bloodied from the first blow. the air felt electric, charged with the sheer force of the rage radiating from him. “come on, sweetheart,” rafe sneered, his tone mocking as he delivered another punch. “what kind of manners are those?”

the man barely had time to respond before rafe grabbed him by the front of his tank top, hauling him up like a ragdoll. the look in his eyes was something primal, something feral. “i might just make you my bitch if I don’t kill you first,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

the man whimpered, his bravado completely gone, but rafe wasn’t finished. his fist connected again, the sound of impact reverberating through the room.

“rafe, stop!” you shouted, your voice cutting through the chaos. you scrambled out from behind the bar, pushing past the growing crowd of onlookers. it took more than just you to pull him away. one of the other bartenders jumped in, followed by a bouncer, both of them struggling to wrestle rafe back. his chest heaved, his hands still twitching with barely-contained energy as they held him.

you crouched beside the man on the floor, who was clutching his face and groaning. his nose was bleeding, and one eye was already swelling shut. your heart pounded as you turned back to rafe, fury and disbelief written all over your face. “are you trying to get me fired?” you snapped, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and adrenaline.

his gaze shifted to you, his blue eyes dark and unreadable. for a moment, he didn’t respond, his breathing heavy, his hands still shaking as they hung at his sides, blood dripping from his knuckles. “yeah,” he said finally, his voice dripping with venom. “because that’d be such a shame.”

his eyes flicked back to the man on the floor, his lip curling in disgust. you saw it then—the side of rafe cameron everyone warned you about. the man who was a ticking time bomb, always seconds away from detonating.

your manager’s glare burned into you, sharp and unrelenting, but the message clear as day. with a sigh heavy enough to rattle your ribs, you turned back to rafe, still seething where he stood, blood dripping onto the floor like a crimson metronome. “come on,” you muttered, jerking your head toward the back. “let’s fix you up before you make this night even worse.”

rafe followed without protest, his steps heavy and deliberate, the energy of the room shifting as you led him through the door behind the bar. the hallway was dim, illuminated only by the flicker of a fluorescent bulb, the walls lined with scuffed paint and the faint smell of bleach. you shoved open the door to a small office-slash-medical-room hybrid—a cluttered, utilitarian space with a desk shoved against the wall and a first-aid kit hanging by the door.

“sit down,” you snapped, pointing at the worn metal chair in the center of the room. he obliged, sinking into the chair with an infuriating calmness, his long legs sprawled out as if he owned the place. he didn’t say a word, but his gaze tracked you as you rummaged through drawers, the scrape of metal and plastic breaking the silence.

it wasn’t until you turned back with supplies in hand that you noticed it: the black grip of a gun tucked into the waistband of his shorts. “are you kidding me?” you hissed, your eyes narrowing. “you’ve gotta be shitting me. second night here, and you’re ready to get me fired.”

rafe didn’t respond immediately, his eyes drawn to the streaks of moonlight slicing through the cracked blinds. the faint silver light caught the sharp angles of his face, softening them just enough to be dangerous. “i have a permit,” he said finally, his voice low and disinterested, as if that explained everything.

you almost laughed. almost. “put that shit away,” you ordered, gesturing sharply.

he smirked but complied, pulling the weapon free and sliding it into his jacket instead. only rafe cameron could make following directions look like a favor. “unbelievable,” you muttered, stepping closer. “hold still.”

you crouched beside him, your fingers deft as you dabbed antiseptic onto a rag. the smell was sharp, stinging your nose as you pressed it to his knuckles. he didn’t flinch, his stoicism unnerving as you worked to clean away the blood and dirt. his hands were strong, calloused in a way that hinted at a life rougher than the one you’d imagined for someone like him.

“you wanna tell me what the hell that was about?” you asked, your tone cutting.

“he was staring at you,” he said simply, his voice devoid of emotion.

you glanced up, caught off guard by the frankness of his statement. “so what? i deal with creeps like that all the time. doesn’t mean you get to knock their teeth in.”

his lips twitched, the faintest shadow of a smirk. “guess i’m not good at letting things slide.”

“yeah, no kidding,” you shot back, shaking your head. his knuckles were raw and split, the blood pooling in thin lines that you carefully wiped away.

the silence between you stretched, thick and charged, until finally, you leaned back and surveyed your work. his hands were still trembling, though whether from adrenaline or something deeper, you couldn’t tell. “all done,” you said, straightening up. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i’m clocking out before someone else decides to bleed all over my bar.”

rafe stood, towering over you as he adjusted his jacket. “i’ll take you home.”

you blinked, caught off guard by the offer. “my legs work just fine,” you replied, your tone sharper than intended.

he didn’t budge, his gaze steady and unwavering. “i wasn’t asking.”

before you could protest further, he was leading you back to the front, where his bike waited. the night air was cool against your skin, the hum of cicadas filling the silence as he handed you a helmet.

“don’t tell me to hold on tight, because i won’t,” you warned as you climbed on behind him, the words almost daring.

he chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “we’ll see about that.”

the engine roared beneath you, and despite your earlier words, your arms instinctively wrapped around his waist as the bike lurched forward. the wind whipped past you, pulling at your hair as the world blurred into streaks of light and shadow.

by the time he pulled up to your house, your pulse was racing for reasons you refused to examine too closely. you slid off the bike, your legs unsteady as you removed the helmet and handed it back to him.

“thanks for the ride,” you muttered, stepping onto the porch. rafe followed, his gaze sweeping over the small, weathered house you called home. you braced yourself for some snide comment, but he said nothing, his expression unreadable.

“it’s not much,” you admitted, crossing your arms defensively.

“it’s enough,” he said simply, his tone carrying none of the judgment you’d expected.

you looked up at him, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow over his features, highlighting the sharp planes of his cheekbones and the curve of his lips. there was something magnetic about him, something that made your heart stumble even as your mind screamed at you to stay away.

no matter how much your mind screamed at you, you knew you wouldn’t listen. when he kissed you, it wasn’t sweet or gentle. It was rough, insistent, a collision of mouths and unspoken tensions. his hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours, claiming and demanding in a way that left you breathless. it wasn’t romantic. it wasn’t kind. but it was everything you didn’t know you’d been craving.

“we’re so not doing this,” you exhaled with a shaky laugh, breaking the kiss as reality clawed its way back into your mind. your palms flattened against his chest, as though a barrier of mere inches could hold back the tide of whatever this was.

but rafe didn’t flinch. his hands, rough and warm, rested on your bare waist, his thumbs drawing lazy circles on your skin that sent sparks racing through your veins. his gaze, piercing and unrelenting, locked onto yours like a challenge, daring you to contradict him.

“yes, we are,” his eyes seemed to say, the intensity of his stare enough to make you forget the very air around you. “are you scared?” he whispered, the words slipping from his lips like silk. they weren’t a question, not really. they were a taunt, a gauntlet thrown at your feet.

he leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear, sending a shiver rolling down your spine. his nose brushed against the shell of your ear, his lips so close they grazed your neck, and you swore he could feel the way your pulse fluttered beneath your skin.

“i’m not scared of anything,” you shot back, your voice firmer than you felt. defiance burned in your chest, even as the sensation of his mouth barely ghosting over your jaw made your knees weak.

“maybe you should be,” he murmured, his voice low, his tone a promise more than a threat.

the words undid you. they stripped away your composure, your restraint, until nothing remained but the white-hot pull that had been simmering between you all night. your fingers moved before you could stop them, wrapping around the back of his neck, the tips grazing the bare skin there. the contact sent a shiver through him that you felt as much as saw.

and then you were kissing him again, your lips colliding with his in a frenzy of heat and need. there was no hesitation this time, no room for second thoughts or retreat. he tasted like scotch and rebellion, smelled like leather and something darker, something dangerous. you weren’t scared, but you should have been. everyone was scared of the devil.

his hand found the small of your back, his touch searing through the fabric of your shirt as he pushed you backward, through the open door to your house. your legs gave out slightly, the doorframe digging into your spine as you kissed him harder. rafe’s other hand roamed up your side, his fingertips tracing the line of your waist, up to your chest, cupping one of your tits through the fabric. your breath hitched, your eyes fluttering shut as he squeezed gently.

“you must do this a lot,” you half-joked as his lips find their way back to your neck, wet and sloppy as they travel down to your collarbone. he grunts against your skin, “could say the same about you,” he retorts. the room spun around you as he backed you further into the house, his hands never leaving your body, his mouth never leaving your neck. you felt the wall behind you, your body trapped between the hardness of the wall and the hardness of, well, him.

his hand slid around your thigh, diving under the fabric of your jeans, fingertips grazing the wetness of your panties. your hips bucked slightly at the touch, betraying your own eagerness. “haven’t been fucked in a while, have you?” he murmured, his voice a dark promise. “what’s the matter, baby? did i turn you on?” you wanted to defy him more than anything, but you were powerless to resist.

instead, you fought fire with fire, raising your knee enough to press it against the center of his shorts. no matter how tough your bones were, they did little to prepare you for just how hard and heavy he felt, throbbing under the thick material of his shorts. “you’ve got it worse than i do,” you do your best to retort, but it’s not easy, not with his fingers rubbing sweet circles against the damp spot of your panties, drawing out every whimper he can from you.

“ease my pain, why don't you?” he murmurs softly. you watched him through hooded eyes as he crouched down, his fingers tugging down your jeans until they're pooling around your ankles. you complied, raising your feet to rid yourself of the blockage. when you did, he took a moment to admire you—pressed against the wall of your own home, standing in nothing but a skimpy top, panties soaked, and a pair of heels he didn’t plan on letting you take off.

when you tried to, he was quick to stop you. “heels on,” his voice was coated in authority, and you’re quick to pull back. “everything else, off.”

“bossy, aren’t you?” you couldnt help but ask him, but it only encouraged him. you watched as he leveled the playing field, peeling his own shirt off, leaving him in nothing but his shorts. he seemed skinny, thanks to his height, but you had clearly been deceived. he was toned, everything about him was toned in just the right places.

your eyes trailed down to the metal tucked in his shorts, and you allowed yourself to pull the weapon out, holding it in front of him. “really?” you couldn’t help but ask. he offered a smile amd a shrug, unable to protest as you sat the gun on the table beside him. better safe than sorry.

you couldn’t help but trail a hand down his chest, your feather-light touch sending shivers down his spine as you traced every muscle and crevice from his collarbone to his hips. youd never admit it out loud, but he was incredible. “see something you like?” he teased, attaching his lips to your neck a final time as his fingers tugged at your shirt, eager to get it out of the way. you whimpered at the feeling, the way he’d bite down enough to make you wince, but run his tongue over the surface a second later. “don’t flatter yourself,” you managed to say.

but he had every intention of doing so. he allowed your shirt to fall to the floor as his lips travelled south, making their way down your collarbone and over your clothed tits. you tilted your head back, fingers instinctively pulling him in closer by the back of his neck, drawing him in further between your tits. he unclasped your bra with ease, giving you the impression he had definitely done this plenty of times, but you were too desperate to care. “should’ve just told me you wanted it rough,” he said, and you swore you could feel his smirk against your skin.

his hand slid down to cup your ass, his fingertips ghosting over the lace of your panties. with a sharp tug, he pulled them aside, revealing the sticky mess that had been hidden beneath. “dripping all over my fingers, huh?” he murmured, his voice low enough to send a tremor through you. his finger slid through the slickness, teasing your entrance before pressing inside. you moaned, your legs shaking, your hips thrusting back against him. “fuck, rafe, too much,” and you wished you were exaggerating. his fingers were thin, slender, hitting all the right spots like they had them mapped out.

his eyes searched yours as he began to pump his finger in and out of you, his strokes measured and deliberate. “not enough, never enough,” he countered, his tone almost mocking. you whined, desperate for more. he smirked, adding a second finger, his thumb finding your clit and circling it with just enough pressure to make your knees buckle. you leaned into the wall, using it for support as his digits worked their magic. you were dripping all over his fingers, wetting them from the tips to his knuckles.

when he pulled them out, it almost felt cruel, a long whine drawn out of you as the feeling of emptiness replaced fulfillment. “so fucking needy, jesus, shit,” he groaned, taking a second to admire how glossy his fingers were, how hard the sight of your arousal had him. “just a second, i promise.” you nodded, watching as he brought his shorts down, leaving him in his boxers, but only for a second. it was enough for you to catch the trailer, to see what awaited you.

when his boxers followed, you really wished for another minute to process the sight. his cock flopped against his abs, twitching. his tip was stained an angry red, beads of pre-cum trailing down the underside of his cock, following a prominent vein before collecting under his balls. “stroke my ego, just like that,” you heard him say, but you didn’t care. you needed him.

his hand wrapped around his shaft, stroking it slowly, teasingly. “you like watching, don’t you?” you nodded, your eyes glued to his hand as it glided up and down. “good,” he murmured, his eyes darkening. “i’ll put on a fucking show for you.”

he stepped closer, pressing the tip of his cock against your clit, hard and ready to split your folds open. you could feel the heat, the urgency, and the promise of what was to come. he leaned in, his breath hot on your face. “gonna take this dick like a fuckin’ champ.”

your cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and desire, his words hitting you in the core of your being. you didn’t know why, but you craved his dirty talk, his filthy mouth whispering bittersweet nothings that turned you into a trembling mess. “yes, please, fuck me,” you breathed, your voice a shaky whisper that seemed to echo through the room.

rafe smirked, his hand still working his cock. “that’s my girl,” he said, and the term of endearment had your stomach doing somersaults. his eyes never left yours, not even as he pushed his cock past your folds, eyes glued to the way your jaw dropped, your eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sensation of his bare tip splitting you open.

you were soaked, the sound of his skin slapping against yours obscene, filling the room as he picked up his pace. he leaned in, his teeth capturing yours in a brutal kiss that had you moaning into his mouth. your nails scratched at his back, leaving deep red grooves that you knew would scar. his hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he thrust into you, his strokes deep and unrelenting. “fuck, shit, pussy’s squeezing my cock,” he groaned through the kiss, breathless.

the room spun around you, the sensation of his bare length inside you, the feeling of his teeth on your lip, his tongue in your mouth—it was all too much. your body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending a live wire ready to spark and explode. “yes, yes, fuck, yes,” you chanted, your voice a desperate mantra that matched the rhythm of his hips.

his hands slid to your throat, thumbs pressing against the pulse that beat frantically. you gasped, the sudden pressure a jolt of electricity that shot straight to your core. his grip tightened, not enough to cut off air, but enough to make you aware of your vulnerability. “you like it rough, don’t you?” he whispered, his voice a dark caress in your ear. you didnt even have to answer, the feeling of your cunt clenching around him told him everything he needed to know.

his hand slid down to grip your neck, his fingers tightening as he slammed into you, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing off the walls. “you want it harder?” he growled, his teeth grazing your earlobe. you nodded, your breath coming in ragged gasps. you weren’t sure how much harder it could get—with him pounding your pussy, you could feel the way he throbbed, pulsing deep inside of you, but you had to expect the unexpected from him. the unexpected came as he leaned back, hand wrapping around the barrel of his gun. your eyes widened, but you were in no position to resist—you didn’t even want to.

there was something dangerous in his eyes, something you had only seen once, just a few hours earlier at the bar, but it drew you in more than you wanted it to. his pace never faltered, his hips slamming against your flesh as one hand held your leg up high, the sight of your cunt swallowing him whole only adding fuel to the fire. his other hand held the gun, finger to the trigger, as he pressed it to your temple.

“tell me you’re scared,” he murmured, gripping your thigh in a way that told you to expect a bruise or two. the cold metal of the gun you knew had to have been loaded dug into your skin, his fingers locked around the trigger.

“scared,” you barely managed to whisper, tits shaking with every forceful thrust. “i’m scared, rafe,” but your words were like music to his ears, the clenching of your cunt a sign that you were just as horny as you were scared.

he threw his head back, pushing your leg up even farther, enough for it to sting deliciously as he rammed into you, the head of his cock bruising the entirety of your pussy. “you should be,” he hissed, sweat dripping down his chest. he lowered the gun, giving you a temporary feeling of relief, one that didnt last long. he brought it closer to you, tapping your bottom lip with the muzzle. “didn’t i tell you?”

your eyes widened at the sight of the weapon so close to you, his fingers never leaving the trigger, but you knew your best option was to oblige. your lips parted, and he was quick to push it into your mouth. he groaned at the sight, watching your swollen lips wrap around the barrel enough to send him over the edge. “doin’ everything i tell you to, fuck, you’re so good.”

you felt the metal of the gun slide along your tongue, his hips moving with the rhythm of your mouth. you didn’t dare bite down, not with how close he was to climax. his hand tightened around your throat, his other hand keeping the gun in your mouth as he fucked you harder, his strokes becoming erratic. “you’re gonna take it all, baby. all of me. every single drop,” he promised, and the thought of his hot, sticky cum filling your mouth had your pussy tightening around his cock.

you felt your orgasm approaching, the tension in your body coiling like a tight spring ready to snap. you moaned around the gun, the vibrations of the sound traveling up the barrel and into your mouth. rafe’s eyes glazed over, his movements becoming sloppy with lust. “yeah, just like that,” he whispered, his thumb pressing into your neck, cutting off just enough air to make your world spin.

the gun slipped from your mouth with a wet pop, and you gasped for air, your chest heaving as his grip around your neck loosened slightly. his eyes snapped to yours, searching, hungry, as he pulled out of you, his cock glistening with your wetness. before you could protest, he turned you around, pressing you into the wall. his hand found your throat again, squeezing as his cock nudged at your entrance from behind.

the fear and arousal had started mixing in a heady cocktail that had you on the edge of oblivion. with a smirk, he slammed into you, his bare skin slapping against yours in a way that was almost painful. your eyes rolled back as he fucked you mercilessly, his hand around your neck keeping you in place, his other hand pressing against your stomach to keep you steady.

his thumb brushed against your clit, the sensation making you moan, your knees buckling slightly. he chuckled darkly, the sound sending a thrill through your body. “such a sweet thing,” he said, his voice deep and guttural. “letting me fill this sweet pussy up.” you could only moan, unable to do anything but submit to his will. the pressure built inside of you, a crescendo that was only heightened by the way he choked you, the way his cock hit just the right spot deep inside of you.

his strokes grew more erratic, his breathing becoming ragged. “yes, yes, fuck, cum for me, cum all over this cock,” he demanded, his voice a mix of pleasure and command. and like a good little slut, you did. your orgasm hit you like a freight train, your body shaking and convulsing around his cock, your cunt pulsing with every beat of your heart.

his grip on your neck tightened, his thrusts becoming even more punishing as you came. your nails scraped against the wall, leaving marks that would surely be there when the sun came up. you could feel your eyes water, your vision swimming with the pressure he applied, but it only added to the intense pleasure that flooded your body. “fuck, yes, take it, take it all,” he groaned, his hips jerking as he emptied himself inside of you. his cum filled you, hot and thick, and you felt the stickiness of it trickle down your legs. he leaned into you, his body pressing you into the wall, his breathing harsh and heavy in your ear. for a moment, you felt it all, right before youe vision betrayed you.

the morning greeted you with the kind of disorientation that made reality feel like a cruel trick. your head throbbed, and your body ached as if every muscle in you had given up the fight. blinking against the sunlight streaming in through the window, you became acutely aware of the rough texture of the couch beneath you. the blanket draped over you was haphazard, your clothes were gone, and a sickening weight settled in your stomach.

it didn’t take long for the memories to come flooding back: rafe’s hands on your skin, his lips on yours, the way he’d devoured you as if you were the only thing keeping him alive. and now? nothing. the couch was empty, and the only remnants of him were the bruises on your neck and the dull ache between your thighs.

you exhaled shakily, pressing your palms against your face. what had you expected? a note? breakfast? rafe cameron wasn’t the kind of man who stayed. he took what he wanted, and you’d been foolish enough to give it to him.

the guilt settled like a weight on your chest as you forced yourself to your feet, rummaging for clothes. the shame was suffocating, curling around you as you dressed in silence. by the time you stepped out of your house, the sun was high, and the day was already slipping away.

at work, the tension was evident. your manager’s icy glare followed you as you prepped for the event that night. “last night was your first strike,” he said coldly, and you knew there was no room for argument. you nodded silently, biting back the urge to snap. the day dragged on, and despite the busy prep work, rafe never appeared.

by the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the event was in full swing. the bar was packed, music pumping through the speakers, and you were moving through the crowd like clockwork. but you couldn’t stop the gnawing feeling in your chest, the anticipation every time the door swung open. he still wasn’t there.

frustrated, you stepped outside for a smoke, seeking solace in the familiar burn of nicotine. the beach in the distance was scattered with people, laughter and music drifting on the wind. that’s when you saw him. rafe was leaning against the hood of his bike, his head tilted as a girl’s hands tangled in his hair. her lips moved feverishly against his, her body pressed against his in a way that made your stomach twist.

“it’s not that serious,” you muttered to yourself, exhaling a shaky breath. but it didn’t stop the sting, the ache that settled deep in your chest. you extinguished the cigarette against the wall and went back inside, needing something—anything—to dull the edges of your emotions.

the first drink went down easy. the second burned, but you welcomed it. you poured yourself a third before a light tap on your shoulder startled you. “excuse me,” a voice said, nervous and unsure.

you turned, offering a faint smile to the tall, sunkissed guy standing behind you. “are you on your break?” he asked hesitantly.

you shook your head, setting your glass down. “it’s okay. i could use the distraction. what’re you having?”

he slid onto the stool, rubbing the back of his neck. “a mai tai would be alright.”

nodding, you set to work, your movements automatic. you slid the drink across the counter, noting the way he fidgeted with his fingers. “busy night,” he said, trying to make conversation.

“yeah, i guess,” you replied.

he shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “came with a friend, but he’s with a girl right now.”

you sat beside him, crossing your arms. “sorry to hear that.”

“it’s fine,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “i’m topper, by the way.”

before you could respond, a familiar presence loomed beside you. you turned slowly, your stomach sinking when your eyes landed on him. “this the friend you were talking about?” you asked topper, though your gaze stayed fixed on rafe.

“yeah,” topper said, oblivious to the tension. “you two know each other?”

rafe opened his mouth, but you were quicker. “no,” you said firmly. “no idea.”

rafe’s expression was unreadable, but you didn’t care. you spent the rest of the night ignoring him, focusing on anything but the way his eyes bore into you. when your shift finally ended, you clocked out and stepped outside, only to find him waiting.

“what do you want?” you snapped, already exhausted.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, his tone laced with faux concern.

“fuck off, rafe.”

he grabbed your arm, spinning you around to face him. “is this about sofia?” he asked, realization dawning on his face.

“so she has a name,” you said bitterly, yanking your arm free.

“get over yourself,” he called after you. “you should’ve known it was casual.” his words hit like a slap, but you didn’t look back. you couldn’t.

the next few days were a blur of muted colors and sharp-edged feelings that refused to dull. you didn’t go to work; the thought of stepping back into that bar, facing the memories etched into its walls, was unbearable. instead, you sought solace in the one place that had always calmed you—the beach.

the sand felt cold beneath your feet, even in the mid-morning sun. the rhythmic crashing of the waves usually soothed you, their endless cadence like a lullaby for your restless mind. but today, they felt distant, like a song you no longer knew the words to.

you sat by the shoreline, knees hugged to your chest as the salty breeze tangled in your hair. there was no anger, no fire—just an aching hollowness that stretched out inside you. mourning someone who was never really yours wasn’t a dramatic storm; it was a slow erosion, like the tide pulling pieces of you away until you were left unrecognizable.

you replayed every moment with him in your mind, dissecting every look, every word, searching for signs of something deeper, something real. but the truth was glaringly simple: rafe cameron wasn’t yours. he was never meant to be.

as the day slipped into evening, the sun sinking low on the horizon, you wandered aimlessly along the beach. the golden light painted the world in soft hues, but it couldn’t reach you. the weight of your thoughts dragged you back to the sand, and you sat again, staring at the endless expanse of water, feeling as though it mirrored the vast emptiness inside you.

you didn’t notice the presence beside you at first. the silence had become your companion, so when the soft crunch of sand gave way to stillness, you barely registered it. but then you turned your head, and there he was. he didn’t look at you. his gaze, like yours, was fixed on the water. the sharp angles of his face were softened in the twilight, but the tension in his jaw betrayed him. he said nothing at first, and neither did you. words felt too heavy, too complicated for the fragile stillness between you.

“my dad had a choice to make before he died,” he said finally, his voice low and rough, as though dragged over gravel.

you didn’t turn to him, didn’t acknowledge his words beyond the faintest flicker of your lashes.

“he told me he had to choose between me and my sister,” he continued, his tone clipped, detached. “he told me it’d always be her.”

the confession hung in the air, heavy and raw, but you stayed quiet, your eyes locked on the waves that seemed to stretch forever. “the first night i came into the bar,” he said after a pause, “it was the anniversary of ward’s death.”

your throat tightened, but you remained silent, letting him unravel the threads of himself piece by piece.

“i bent over backward for him, y’know?” his voice cracked, but he recovered quickly, masking the vulnerability with bitterness. “did some things i wasn’t proud of for him, but none of it mattered.”

his laugh was low and bitter, barely more than an exhale. “so forgive me if i’m a little hesitant to let you in.”

there was a challenge in his words, a dare for you to contradict him. but you didn’t. you stared at the water, your voice soft when you finally spoke. “i’m not him, rafe.”

he nodded slowly, the movement barely perceptible out of the corner of your eye. “yeah,” he said, his tone heavy with resignation. “but most of them are.”

you could feel his eyes on you, searching for something—what, you weren’t sure.

“i told him once that I knew something was wrong with me,” he continued, his voice quieter now, almost distant. “but he told me to keep it quiet. that’s how much he cared.”

the silence that followed was suffocating, filled with all the things neither of you could say. the ocean stretched endlessly before you, its waves crashing softly against the shore as if mocking the turmoil inside you.

“i’m sorry,” you said finally, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

“for what?” he asked, his tone edged with disbelief.

“for what he did to you.” he didn’t respond, and you didn’t push him. The two of you sat there, side by side, two broken pieces that didn’t quite fit together but couldn’t seem to pull apart.

tears pricked at your eyes, hot and unwelcome, and you blinked furiously, determined not to let them fall. but it was no use. the weight of everything—the loss, the pain, the hopelessness—was too much. a single tear slid down your cheek, then another, until they were falling freely, carving silent trails down your face. you didn’t wipe them away, didn’t hide them. what was the point?

you felt him move before you saw him, his arms wrapping around you from behind. his chin rested lightly on your shoulder, and his grip was firm, possessive. for a moment, you let yourself lean into him, the warmth of his body a cruel comfort against the chill of the night.

but even as he held you, even as your tears soaked into his shirt, you knew the truth. you would worship something that has destruction in its blood, blind and desperate, chasing something you could never truly have. rafe cameron was the kind of man who would burn you to the ground and then light another match just to watch you smolder. and yet, there you were, willingly stepping into the flames.

you stared out at the ocean, its vastness swallowing you whole, and you knew you were lost, eyes dilated as you watched the clouds float. you would practice the worst religion of them all, praying for something you knew you’d never have.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

[missbuckyhellfire]

Cat And Mouse :Emperor Geta (1/?)

Warnings: MANIPULATION (Both ways), The Emperor twins being themselves, Smut, NSFW content, heavy dub/con , Forceful fingering, Flirting, Unwanted advances, some language, heavy drinking, Oral, humping, hair pulling, Long piece (10,000 words!). Message me if I missed anything, Minors Be Gone!

Translations:

Mia Combina: My beloved

Mel: Honey

Hello Everyone! I know I had said it was going to be a One-shot and this is a long piece. However, I feel that it could be completed as a mini series or maybe with a second part. This piece could be a standalone as well, but I feel that it may be left too open ended for some. Also, I love their dynamic so I am wanting to write more. I will post a poll below for people to vote. If the deadline passes, comments in the piece would be appreciated. Miss.BuckyHellfire

The great General of Rome has returned to “celebrate” his victories with the city. Or at least that’s how the twin emperors seen it. The reality was much more concerning for the brothers.

For the past few months, a rider with a black horse would rob from the rich and give their spoils of their crimes to the poor. The citizens of Rome supported the rider and would refuse to say anything about them to the officials or even the emperors. In which unfortunately would cost them their lives. They were on their wits end as they wanted to end this once and for all.

The real reason, the one that the brothers wanted to keep to themselves was that they wanted the General to hunt this thief down and bring them to a prison cell where the emperors would take care of them personally.

However, the night before, the rider tried to strike their own home in Palatine Hill. Unfortunately, Emperor Geta was awake and clothed, unlike his brother in a pile of concubines. He seen the figure rush to the door and viewed how the cloaked rider would take down each of his guards with such grace.

The rider was a trained swordsman. This caused great fear in Geta as he panicked and grabbed his own blade by his night stand. He was going to fight them to save his gold. He wasn’t just going to be robbed like the rest of the people before him.

However, by the time he arrived, the rider was gone, only with a trail of blood to take him to General Acacius’s home. Geta, only in a robe, knew what he had to do.

When the General had arrived to greet the emperors the next morning, Geta had personally invited him and his entire family to join for a great feast at Palatine Hill. He wanted to get answers and he knew he was slowly closing in on his prey.

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“Brother what are you looking at?”

“Nothing Carcalla”

That was a lie. The taller emperor had glanced around the room as he sipped from his wine glass. Throughout the crowd of his concubines, soldiers, nobles, and servants, he couldn’t help but keep his eyes on her. The young woman that was with General Acacius.  No matter how much he tried to wonder his eyes around, he couldn’t help but make eye contact with her over and over again.repeatedly.

A young woman, with dark hair and fair skin. Gold eyeliner was pained on her eyelids that covered her warm but light brown eyes. Her gold lips formed into a smile as she talked to a few guests eager to get a few moments of her time. The people of Rome were like servants at her feet, wanting to talk to her and listen to her sweet voice. Without saying another word, Geta separated himself from his brother and walked over to the growing crowd . The crowd had separated and allowed Geta to pass through to meet with the woman. The general was less than pleased as he placed his arms around her. Geta immediately had chuckled to himself  before he spoke.

“Guess I can see why your father hid you, so you wouldn’t get touched as his finest treasure.” He took her hand and kissed it gently. The general’s eyes never left his. “Where’s your wife General?”

“This is my daughter Sabina”. Sabina, this is Emperor Geta.” The general forced a small smile and tried to hide a growl as he heard Geta repeat his daughters name to himself.  “She has fallen ill and unable to come today and she sends her regards.”

The emperor took in Sabina’s stola: a vibrant blue with gold accents. Her dark hair was pulled up wearing golden hoops. He seen nothing but innocence in her warm but light brown eyes. He glanced down to her lips as they trembled, intimated by his presence. He took in the oils she wore, they were sweet, the right amount of sweetness that could lead any man to start a war. He did find it odd that the general’s wife wasn’t able to come, but didn’t want to pry just yet, not when he had the opportunity to talk to the general’s daughter.

“Come Sabina, sit with me” Geta had ushered her to go. The general paused and refused to move his hands. He had known Geta long enough that this would just be a simple game for him. He would use his daughter to get closer to him and gods knows what. He was his general already what else would he want from him.

He smirked at the general “you don’t trust me with your greatest gem? I promise to take care of her general.” He pushed the general’s hands off of Sabina and took her to sit down with him.

Sabina’s first instinct was to sit by one of his other concubines out of respect. Her father’s grand speech echoed throughout her head as she had turned around and sat next to a barely clothed concubine. Her father was firm, but kind.

“Before we go in, I want you to know that the Emperors are very persuasive and manipulative they will want to find everything out about you. They are like the gods themselves, but much worse. Promise me, if your called, you keep your mouth shut, keep your secret.”

“I’ll try my best.”

After a few moments, Geta turned to her then shook his head “This wont do.”

“What wont Emperor?” Sabina wasn’t sure what she was talking about. He was not too keen about whatever it was due to his narrowing of his eyebrows. Geta didn’t think a gem like her should be with a bunch of other slaves and toys.

“Come sit with me here.” Geta had patted on his leg. His brother took immediate notice of his actions and leant over to his brother.

“Brother, you can’t be serious”

“Deadly, brother, deadly. Come on Sabina” He patted on his leg again. Not thinking she had much of a choice, she had plopped on his lap and he smirked. He took in her scent again as he chuckled. Now all eyes were on the Emperor, including the General who started to feel a sense of guilt. The concubine had passed a tray of grapes and cheeses to Sabina. She had looked at them for a second taking in the sweet smell of the grapes and cheeses. It was a treat to get this food when it came around.

“Don’t be shy mel, feed me.” Geta, like a snake, wrapped his arms around  her as she grabbed the plate and pricked a grape from the platter. His brown eyes watched her as she waited for him to open his mouth. He did nothing of the sort and only mumbled a “tease me”. She had placed the grape on his lips and began to graze the fruit around his lips until he would open his mouth and she plopped it in. He chewed it and swallowed. “give me another Sabina.”

She listened, and gave him each grape until the very last one on a frail branch. He took the small grape into his hands and grazed it against her lips and watched them quiver a bit.

"Open up"

Sabina opened her mouth and he plopped it inside. Snickering, he placed his hands around her neck gently so he could feel her swallow the fruit. She swallowed gently, but Geta found it absolutely fascinating feeling her throat muscles move.

He turned and grabbed his glass of red wine, only half full now. He snickered and pressed the glass against her lips as his grin kept getting wider.

She parted her lips again as he let go of her neck, but refused to let his eyes off of it.  He was going to start asking questions, eventually.

He gently tipped the glass so the sweet fluid would enter her mouth. Sabina took every last drop in the cup, with the feeling of the emperors hands in her hair. His hands were soft and gentle, only when he wanted them to be.

Sabina, the fluid was so sweet and intoxicating. She never had a fluid so tasty in her life. She wanted more until it was gone, which had left her with a bit of guilt and curiosity on what the emperor would do next. Geta shook his head. He was impressed how fast it went down, but now he has an idea.

************************************************************************

4 empty glasses were by the emperors chair. None were drunk by the emperor. Sabina thought she could handle a few, but the wine was rather intoxicating. She looked messed up, her hair was messy and her stola's sleeve was loosely over her shoulder as she would let out soft giggles from the affects of the wine. In return Geta would laugh in return. Carcalla watched the entire scene happening, but wasn't too sure what his brother's intentions were with the Generals daughter. Geta did have a collection of concubines to please him but Sabina seems to take a different effect on him.

Geta took in the sight of Sabina, vulnerable and possibly with a loosened tongue. If she wasn't a general's daughter, he would have offered her to be a concubine. Yet, he needed answers.

"So Sabina" he snaked his arms around her tightly, close enough for her to smell his body. "I'm sure your familiar with the rider that's been stealing in Rome."

Sabina closes her eyes for a moment then opens them to meet the eyes of her father from the other end of the room. Panicked, he mouths the words "lie".

She turns to the emperors dark intimidating eyes as he watched every feature of her, seeing if there's something that could be read from her.

"Yes Emperor, I heard tales of the rider who killed some of the emperors men and tried to steal from them. They steal from the rich and give to the poor, what of them?" Sabina looked down as Geta's lips twitched a bit from their response. 

The palace didn't give message to  the people about the supposed break in. So she knew someone who would do such a thing and would tell her. He began to rub her back a bit and tried to become more soft in his voice.

“Yes, it’s a tragedy, I ran out of my house as soon as I heard the commotion.  I was ready to swing my blade at him.” Geta leant to her ear and moved his hands to her shoulders in hopes to ease some sort of confession out of her. Yet before she could speak, the general came to Geta, who was rather distracted.

“ I wish to bring my daughter Sabina home and I will meet you at nightfall to discuss the matters of the thief” His eyes glanced at the glasses and his daughter, who seemed to be feeling the affects of the wine.

Geta paused for a moment and glanced at Sabina. He didn’t want to let her go just yet. “Nonsense, I wish to have her as a guest for a couple nights in the finest suite of my palace. Your wife and yourself are invited as well, but I may be rather distracted by your daughter.”

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea. People will talk and…”

“Does it look like I care, I am a emperor of Rome, you listen to me, my wish wasn’t a request” Geta shut him off as Carcalla let out a soft chuckle in response . The general nodded and muttered “ My wife is ill so it will be just you and my daughter. I will visit to discuss the matter you wish to talk to me about.”

The emperor clapped his hands together “Perfect! You don’t need to worry about us at all I will take good care of her.”

************************************************************************

To Sabina, this was only part of the job.

First was to lure him in by making herself seem like the perfect servant to the elder brother. He seemed like the more sane, more power hungry and calmer one. He was the logical one in the two but of course was still a threat.

She regretted letting it slip about her past endeavors at Palatine Hill. She knew that she shouldn’t have spoken out about it and has put her family in danger.

Regardless, Geta had ushered the guests out quickly after exchanging some private matters with her father. No surprise that Sabina assumed he was asking him to take the legendary thief down. Little does he know that the general knows of his daughters adventures and wouldn’t dream of ending it by turning her in. He was the one who supports her anyways.

Carcalla had turned to her during the exchange of words and chuckled. “Don’t get too attached to this lifestyle your going to go back home as soon as Geta is finished with you”

“I am here to serve the emperor and will return home when he sees fit.” It was such a kiss ass attitude but she needed to get on both of their good side if she was to go venturing in the palace on her own.

“Such a fuckin toy, you will fit right in during your stay” The younger emperor shook his head.

Sabina tilted her head at him, toying with him back. “Toy? I don’t understand, my father spoke very rarely on those subject matters.”

Carcalla stood up from the throne and glued his blue eyes with her brown ones. “Don’t toy with me girl. I know your type, your invitation to join our family will be declined soon enough. My brother will come to his senses, you may be nothing more than a concubine to him.” He spat at her.

She hid the smile with a frown and a nod of the head. “ I can promise you that I’m not who you thought I am.” She was so close, she just needed to play along a bit longer and the jewels will be hers.

“We will see about that.” He muttered as he looked down to his feet as Geta returned and waved the general off. Sabina’s father gave one last look to her before he left through the doors. Sabina stood up and Geta wrapped his arms around her, hugging her from behind, taking in her scent from her hair.

“I’m going to show our guest their room for the next few days. You are welcome to join us.” Geta’s tone wasn’t exactly welcoming, it didn’t sound like he wanted to have his younger brother to join them. Carcalla had mumbled a “No.” before Geta had took a step back and took Sabina’s hand and lead her down the hall.

************************************************************************

Sabina admired the room Geta had granted her by the doorway with him by her side. He watched her intently as she took in the sight of her room.

He kept stating he knew it wasn’t much, but Sabina knew that it was a lie. He knew this was the nicest room that she was ever given. She was admiring the silky bedsheets and lovely balcony with the perfect view of the sunset. The sweet smells of lemon oils had flared the room as well.

However, her eyes grew large at the bucket of swords that were placed in her chambers. Geta meant to have those removed as he didn’t think it was right for a lady to be so close to blades, as it may hurt her.  Geta’s eyebrows furrowed as she was walking towards the barrel and picked up a silver blade with fine rubies engraved on them. She knew she was going to take this blade home when this is all over. Geta, shocked and walked over to her and took her hand with the blade on it.

“Do you think this is lady like to be handling blades like this?” Geta tilted his head, his eyes expressing concern, but demanding she drop the blade.

“My father is the general, he taught me how to use blades.” Sabina rolls her eyes. “I can handle myself.”

Geta blinks twice. “ I don’t blame your father for training you to use blades, but your under my wing now. I am sure that your father would appreciate you being of sound mind here.” He snaps his fingers and two guards take the blades away, while Geta yanks the blade from her hand. Before the last blade leaves, he takes one : a gold blade with diamonds engraved into it.  He pauses for a moment then sighs, seeing the shock in Sabina’s eyes.

“If you are to find a husband in Rome, you will need to learn to submit.  I am sure that your father taught you that.” Geta leans down to her ear in a whisper. He places the sharp weapon on her shoulder as the blades leaves a small cut on her. She doesn’t move as she stays firm in place. “Remember your place, and to not keep secrets from your emperors.”

Sabina nods in the comment as he moves the blade closer to her neck. He tilts his head, watching her throat bob in response. His lips part as though he is going to say something, but he says nothing. He only admires her beauty in the moment.

“So tell me, what do you really know about this thief? You seem to know more than you lead on.” His eyes moves to her light brown eyes checking for any sense of vulnerability or weakness or any hint of the thief’s identity. To him, a woman knowing how to fight well was odd, she was the only swords woman that he known.

Sabina, trying to hide her identity looks into his eyes and gets lost for a second. Why did he look so good but done the wrong things?  She had to make up some sort of story fast or else Geta’s kindness may not last long. “ I met him a few months ago.”

The blade was pushed harder against her neck. “Elaborate.” His voice turned into a growl.

“I, uh- met him by a cart by the Colosseum. He was talking about a recent adventure to the locals and I decided to listen in to hear more about it. He and I didn’t really talk about things but he was ambitious.”

His gaze softened a bit “Did you see a glimpse of his face?”

“No, he was wearing a cloak.”

Silence swallowed the room for a second then Geta dropped the blade to the ground. He examined Sabina’s face, he only seen fear in it. However, he thought it was his approach to it. Something told him that there was more to be shared about this but he decided to not pry for now. The emperor admired her for a moment before grabbing her chin. Both of their eyes were glued onto each other for a moment. Brown eyes looking upon to brown eyes. One pair firm with determination to keep her secret while the other pair wanted to expose it. 

“Your welcome to stay here for as long as you need to.” He muttered as he placed his soft lips onto her own. He paused for a moment, taking in the taste of her lips. Sabina took in the taste of wine on his lips as well. Geta mumbled something about taking her for a feast later and flashed a smile at her before leaving.

Sabina noticed that Geta forgot to bring the blade with him. However, she was in shock with the emperors actions and determination to figure out her secret. If the kiss was part of the plan or not, she doesn’t care. But she can admit he was a good kisser.

Venus, she needs help.

************************************************************************

Geta met with his brother immediately afterwords to share information about his encounter  with Sabina and the information about the thief that they are trying to hunt down.

They were both in Carcalla’s chambers alone as he was explaining his suspicions on Sabina.

“I think there’s more to what she is saying. She is a swordswoman after all, only the insane women are trained with a blade.” Carcalla mumbled.

“Remember brother her father is the general, he may have wanted to keep her safe. Eve though one day she will likely be married off.” Geta paused for a moment trying to understand the general’s logic. “Do we know who Sabina’s mother was? “

Carcalla shrugged. “Words go around that he fucked a goddess when he was a young soldier. Would make sense for her beauty, but I think it may be a common whore after too much drinking.”

Geta took in Carcalla’s words in for a moment. How the people would gravel at their feet for Sabina. Her kind smile and skills in swordsmanship. Her overall alluring appearance and personality. It would make sense, but just this alone wouldn’t be enough proof.  He knew that he wanted her, even though she does appear stubborn in her own ways.

“How would you feel a alignment with the general brother.” Geta looked at his wine glass for a moment then looked back at him.

Carcalla laughed at him. “You can’t be serious about this brother; I am not going to marry that woman!”

“No, you don’t have to, because I want to.” Geta looked at one of his guards. “Send word out in the morning for the audience of the general.”

“You were suspicious about them now you want to marry the girl? I don’t understand you brother.”

“No,no. She is beautiful and will give me lovely children yes. But it will keep him close until she finally speaks the truth. Maybe more seduction is needed tonight.”

Carcalla nods with the plan then looks away with a wide grin across his face. “Brilliant”

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Sabina was on the ground praying to the gods for the night that was about to come. She needed to make sure that she would be able to get enough gold to feed the temple that was slowly needing more and more donations. Sure nobles and the emperors would visit but a lot of them would provide with other forms of loyalty to this goddess within their bedrooms.

“Venus, mother, please help me with this task. I am doing this for the people of Rome and to keep areas of worship open. I am sure you would rather have a beautiful garden in your name mother rather than  the other offerings that are often given to you.” Sabina was referring to the emperors and their concubines. Word has went around that the brothers were loyal followers of Venus, but yet made any approach to visit her temple.

There was no response. As always. She always figured this out. Maybe her father was insane that he told her that he slept with Venus that one night under the evening stars. She didn’t say anything to him until the day Sabina was born then just left her on his doorstep. The general whenever he was asked would say it was from a one night stand and her mother is dead.

However, as time went on, she began to grow in beauty. This is something that was never explicitly addressed but people would come to see her and her generosity. When the twin brothers took over Rome, she felt the need to do more. She wanted to do whatever was needed to ensure that the people of Rome would survive their ruthlessness. So she decided to become a thief of the night and take from the rich to give to the poor, so she could ensure their own wellbeing each night.  This eventually went to providing generous donations to the churches as well. Whoever encountered her promised to keep her secret.

She sighed then glanced at the attire that was given to her for the evening diner. She should have known it was going to be a really revealing stola. This one was a red one with a wide enough opening on the top to expose her larger breasts. She sighed heavily then noticed that there were no forms of jewelry to hide her breasts.

So this is what Geta wants.

Sabina sighs. Geta was an attractive man no doubt about it, but she has never been touched by anyone before. From what she seen and heard the entire process looks painful and frankly demeaning to women. She never seen the point of doing it. She honestly planned to keep it until someone worth her while would marry her, or at least offer marriage.

Plus, to Sabina, he seemed demanding and controlling and would likely give her limited rights within the palace. However, she wasn’t going to let Geta see her body that easily. She found some of the makeup provided to her and found gold powder. She painted her nipples with that color in hopes to cover them up enough. She touched up for gold makeup look then waited for the emperors to call her for dinner.

************************************************************************

She smiled throughout the entire meal. She was rather thankful that she wasn’t close enough for Geta to see her sweat across her body. There were the finest foods available in Rome for her to eat from breads, wines to cheeses.

During the entire meal, Geta was watching her intently and so was his brother. All three of them were silent during their dinner in the gardens until Geta finally spoke.

“Sabina that dress compliments you, but didn’t expect you to make it modest.”

“I did so we could focus on the food and not other matters.” Sabina slipped out which gave two disapproved looks back.

“You don’t need to cover up for me Sabina.” Geta states. His tension turned into a smile and he stood up from his chair and approached her hoping to get a better view of her. He was now inches away from her as he took her hand and kissed it firmly. “You are to be my wife as the gods wish.”

Sabina blinked twice. She was not expecting this, she honestly thought he just would want to fuck her and kick her out, like Carcalla said. She glanced at the brother who only exchanged her with a smug grin, taking pleasure in her reaction.

“Wife, my emperor, I didn’t think it would happen. What would the people of Rome think of this? You are marrying the General’s daughter.”

“Would be more ideal than you think Sabina. You are loved by the people. My brother and I have eyes, we aren’t as loved as much. With you, you will help us get Rome’s support. You can help us see what the people of Rome need while we keep our power.” Geta suggested. Sabina believed everything until the last part about helping the people, Sabina knew that they wouldn’t do that.

“Sure helping the people, that means losing some of your wealth.” She spat. As soon as those last words came out of her mouth, Geta’s hands wrapped around her throat not tight, but as a warning to her.

“This offer is too good to refuse. You will help us. The gods have made it so.”Geta warned under his breath.  “Regardless of what you say, you will be my wife.”

Sabina had to think for a moment. Marriage would mean putting up with Geta for a bit until someone decides to kill him and his brother. Which at the pace they are going wont be for much longer.  And it would also mean unlimited gold to smuggle to people in need. Which would help Rome.

“Regardless, I guess I have to accept.”

Geta release her and smiled. “Excellent, now if you follow me I will show you where you will be staying.”

“I thought I was staying in the guest room” Sabina muttered.

“Oh no, your staying with me now.” That caused a ocean of anxiety flood her stomach.  She was about to be completely alone with the emperor in his chambers.

************************************************************************

The emperor opened the door to his chambers. He was quiet for a moment and allowed Sabina to take in the room. It was a rather lovely room, more expensive than the guest room that she was in earlier. With the silk, there was fur pillows and a thick blanket on top. His wardrobe was open and shown how lovely it was with  the fine fabrics. His room smelt of oils, wine and cheese. Around them were a ray of windows separated by pillars.

“It’s a lovely room” Sabina finally says.

“It’s ours now.” Geta assured as he gestured Sabina to follow him to the bed to take in the soft blankets. She took them in and sighed at the comfort. He nodded at the guards to be dismissed as the two could talk. His eyes were glued onto her lips. “Tell me, what do you like doing for fun? Besides sword play?”

“Well I do like riding horses, I prefer riding with Luna, my horse.”

“I like riding horses too, what type of horse are they?” Geta sincerely was interested in the horse as it was nice to see that they had common interests. However, he shouldn’t be surprised as she was the generals daughter.

“She’s a black mare, rather sweet and even tempered.” Sabina cut herself off right there. Remembering the legends they say about her and her legendary black horse. She hoped that Geta didn’t catch on. But with the look that she saw in his eyes, she knew that he did.

He was no fool. The black horse, following the mare to the generals home. She was a skilled swords women. His jaw tightened as he tried to hide his suspicions of her. There was only one thing left to do and with no one else around, he can find out for sure.

“Take off your clothes.” Geta stated plainly.

“ I am pure emperor I…” Sabina tried to push it off against his suspicions and tried to change the subject. She didn’t feel ready for this at all but she felt a firm grip on her shoulders.

“Don’t make me repeat again. I want to see all of you!” Geta stated as he tugged on her stola. She jumped a bit before she stepped back to remove the stola. Geta’s eyes were hungry, watching her form be revealed to him. She realised what he was doing and pushed her hair back so her back wound would not be revealed. Yet, she was completely bare in front of him, except for the gold makeup that covered her nipples.

“Turn around.” He instructed. She did as he instructed, and her ass was in view to him. His eyes took her in and admired all of the curves of her body, the moles and scars that were left on her back.

“You have a lot of scars on your moles as well.” He commented. Sabina took a deep breath and had to think fast.

“Everyone trained with a blade have some scars to show their loyalty and determination of the craft emperor.” She responded.

“Fair ,” he grabbed her hair and then he saw it. A fresh blade wound stitched up and reeking of the scent of old blood. He couldn’t get his eyes off it. He literally has his thief in his hands. He pushed her down as he got a small whimper from her he caged her in.

The cat finally caught the mouse.

“Emperor I….”

“IT was you!” Geta spat. “I wanted to deny that a beauty like you could do such a crime to Rome yet here we are!” His hand was one again around his neck. “Explain yourself or I will see to it that your execution is going to be very painful.”

Sabina had to collect her thoughts for a moment. She only had one shot at this and to basically tell her life story to the emperor is no easy feat. Also, she had to persuade him to let her live as well. She didn’t want to bring out her maternal parentage to him but at this point she may not have a choice.

“Why would you do that? The citizens of Rome would revolt. People love me for what I do. I provide to them what they clearly need. You lack the knowledge and ability to understand that your people are starving and dying because of your foolishness. I came in to help them when you and your  speakers of Rome are more focused on military warfare. You are also in conflict with with a demigod  of Venus and I do not think that you want to anger my father who is beloved by everyone in Rome.” Sabina felt bratty for saying it like that but if she gets killed for it, so be it.

“You have some nerve for saying that.” His grip on her throat tightened.

“You must hear it.”

Silence.

He seen her the way she truly was now. A woman who was looking out for her people and went through great lengths to do it. However, she was his enemy, and nothing will help from being punished for her crimes. “Venus is your mother.” Geta interjected. “The goddess of love, beauty, desire, sex, fertility, prosperity and victory. Should have known.” He placed a faint smile on his lips. “Your mother has yet to grace me with any good thing in my life. Lots of sex, beauty and victory are the only thing your supposed mother has blessed me with. Yet, I want a wife, and you are in a unfortunate situation mia columba, you are going to give me a child if you like it or not.”

The words stung to her as he let go of her neck. He wasn’t going to let her walk from this. Absolutely not. He shouted for the guards to arrest her, which was almost immediately.

************************************************************************

Sabina was alone in a cell, hearing the sounds of shouting and smelling the smoke from the people of Rome rioting outside of her cell. Word went around fast in the city and everyone was there to support her.

Geta was on the upper floor, watching everyone riot for the freedom of the demigoddess. As soon as word came, the general had rushed to his daughter’s aid but was immediately stopped by the emperor who was fuming towards him as well. The general had pleaded for his daughters life, even offering to be charged instead. However, his fury was too intense and he wanted to watch the two suffer.

“Please she’s my daughter, take me instead!”

“No! You should have watched her more closely and now she is going to be punished.” Geta snapped back at him. “To think she was going to be the empress of Rome.”

The general looked at Macrinus, a advisor to the emperors. The look was a simple plea for him to let her go. The advisor nodded and cleared his throat. “You still could still marry her.”

“Repeat?” Geta’s brows furrowed.

“You are not getting a good reputation with Rome. You need someone to provide a good image. Sure she was a thief, but she is loved by the people of Rome. Killing her will only result in your downfall. Perhaps even tonight with your head rolling down the steps of this building. But if you marry her, and make sure she keeps her public appearances, your people will be on their feet. Having a demigoddess as a wife will only bring more power., even though you hate her mother.” He stated and the general hated the proposal, but he didn’t have much choice.

“Gain reputation and use her as a puppet to gain power from Rome.” Geta summarized his grin grew wide. “Bring me to the cell, I wish to speak to her.”

************************************************************************

Sabina was alone in her cell with Geta.  She was still nude from earlier and stunk of the odor within the cell. She immediately spat on the floor as Geta chuckled.  He slowly walked towards her, watching her tremble. She refused to look at him, she knew this can’t be good.

“Oh my sweet Sabina, the sun to my moon. You will live to see another day.” His hand had cusped her face gently. Brown eyes are now looking into brown watery eyes. “No more tears in this cell you are going home.” His voice was like honey, it drew her in.

She lit up as she heard those words. She thought of her home with her father and his wife. The warm pastures and her horse Luna waiting for her. How she would ride again. “Is my father here to take me home?”

“Why would your father return you home? I, your husband will.” He stated proudly, his hand now going lower down to her neck, feeling her pulse. “We are still to be married.”

“You have forgiven me of my crimes?” She squeaked as he moved his hands lower to one of her breasts. He didn’t grab them, rather let his fingers trace her nipple.

He sighed. “Forgiveness is such as light word, you are to be my wife still, the Emperess of Rome.” His hands lowered to her waist, he pulls her in to feel her body against his. She tried to squirm away he pulled onto her tighter. “Resist my offer and you will see your mother sooner than you think.” It was in a gentle tone, but it was indeed a threat. His hands lowered down her body to her ass. His ringed hand slapped her ass so hard that it was heard a few cells over, followed by Sabina’s high pitch scream.

“Disobedience is punishment and if frequently done, death.” He reached to find her core and inserted a finger inside, grinning when he heard the breathy gasp from Sabina’s lips. Her mouth was open, she was vulnerable now. Geta found her weak point. He held it there for a moment before he began to slowly move it in and out. This only caused her to make more noise.

“Please stop!” She pleaded.

“Please Stop!” Geta mimicked. “No! Please stop stealing! I wouldn’t have patience for you if you had no use to me. But you do and I command you to listen and submit to me.” He moved his pace faster inside of her.

“You have no knowledge on my powers Geta.” She tried to warn but instead became breathless due to the amount of pleasure that Geta was giving her.

“I may not, but I know how to persuade a powerful woman.” He growled in her ears. She had no reaction but to tug on his strawberry blonde hair as he curled his fingers inside of her as she felt a small knot start to form. “By making them feel something.”

Geta’s eyes darkened as he watched her. So vulnerable, so submissive, yet so powerful. She was puddy in his hands if he could prove himself to her. He watched as she climaxed, her world shattered around her. She took heavy breaths and Geta smiled even wider than before. “I think we are going to make a good team.”

Sabina had no choice but to nod, regardless of how good the fingering was. She wanted to go home.  For now, she only wanted to get off the peak of pleasure that Geta put her into.

“What’s the matter, never been touched inside before?” Geta cocked a brow.

Sabina was silent as he removed his finger and pressed it against his lips to have a taste. Once her juices had touched his tongue he let out a soft moan. He complimented on the tastes of lemon and sweets. ‘Speak up.”

“No Emperor.” Sabina said. Geta didn’t say anything else before walking out of the cell, waving his guards over to bring her back to the palace.

************************************************************************

Geta and Sabina had a extravagant, very public wedding ceremony the next day. Given with the amount of time they had. Geta wanted to at least make sure that the wedding would meet to the emperors standards. He ensured that there were women serving food, wine and entertainment. He invited all of the highest nobles to the ceremony, including her family. Sure it was a last minute ceremony, but Geta had standards.

Sabina was decorated in makeup that matched Geta’s. Her eyes were darkened with a smoky shadow with a tint of golden eyeliner. Her lips were left bare with a faint lip oil covering them. Her dress was white with golden accents all over it and her hair was pulled up to reveal her neck. This didn’t go without notice that a few tears would shed on her face. She wanted to go home. She didn’t want any of this. However, she was caught and had to face the consequences.

Geta was in a matching white robe and makeup done the same. He only seen this as a duty and a way to serve punishment to the family. He would admit that she was an attractive being, but that was only a bonus of the situation.

The ceremony was very short and brief, the emperor had no choice to. The citizens were protesting outside of the door, trying to set their goddess free. So Geta made sure the ceremony was enough to legally bind them and that was it. He wouldn’t want to loose his head today, he just wanted to have enough proof with Sabina was his wife, his empress.

When vows were exchanged, all Sabina could do was nod. She had nothing else to say. Her eyes kept looking into the sad eyes of her father and his wife. The three of them knew they were in trouble, and this was their punishment. She wondered what her mother thought of all this.

Once all was said and done, Emperor Geta gave Sabina a kiss on the lips. This kiss was more harsh, as though it was sealing the contract that was implemented between the two of them. It didn’t last longer that a few moments before Sabina pushed away. Carcalla, who was the prime witness of the ceremony stood by his brother and shouted “ALL HAIL EMPEROR GETA, HIS WIFE EMPRESS SABINA AND EMPEROR CARCALLA”.

The crowd repeated the praises three times before realising how silent the crowd was outside. It was almost as though they given up and were preparing to leave. Geta and Carcalla smiled at each other, giving each other a knowing look.  

A female concubine came to Geta with a cake of emmer, of the wheat kind. Geta took it from her hands and watched her walk away. He realised Sabina wasn’t make eye contact with him so he tried to lovingly get her to look at him, while it was being rather forced. He broke the emmer above her head and he watched it crumble around her.

As they were on the ground taking the cake around them, Geta wrapped his hand on hers. “Remember your mine, you need to play the part.”

************************************************************************

 The rest of the wedding went by smoothly, there were various guests congratulating the couple that were hardly separated. Geta had his arm wrapped around her the entire time, ensuring that no one had a plan to steal his new empress away.

Her father and his wife came by to “congratulate” the couple but only discussed plans for future meetings. From her father’s eyes, she could tell that he far from approves of this match and hopes something dreadful will happen to him in the future so she would be free. Through a short discussion, Geta had sent them to talk with the other officials.

Geta had to excuse himself for a moment then Carcalla had quickly replaced him with a breath of strong wine and a fresh cup in hand. He was quite giggly, which had concerned Sabina.

“Welcome to the family sister, I had my doubts but you survived.” He shrugged. Sabina politely smiled at him, sensing the uneasy tension between the two. They hardly spoke to each other, yet there was strong tension.

“I suppose it is safe to call you brother, but I prefer Carcalla. It is however whatever you wish.” Sabina bowed her head.

“I prefer either. But I also wanted to propose.” Carcalla grinned as he took a step closer to her. “Just because your married to my brother, doesn’t mean you can’t warm my bed.”

“Excuse me?” Sabina hardly choked out.

“Geta can be busy and women, such as yourself should be treasured. This marriage may be of convivence and power but that a women should not be abandoned.” His voice was lower then before he could add onto his point, Macrinus placed a hand on his shoulder. Sabina never met the advisor up close. He made eye contact and smiled at her for a moment.

“I think you should go and sit down emperor, the entertainment is about to start. “ He ushered him to sit down. While hesitant at first, Carcalla sat next to his concubines.

“I apologize empress. Sometimes your husband’s brother can be quite imaginative.” He smiled at her. “You are quite the beauty, so mysterious and so strong. The heart of a rebel thief of Rome”  He muttered, taking a sip from his glass.

Sabina sighed. Of course he knew who she was before this entire thing. “Macrinus, how should I address you, high advisor Macrinus, or….”

“Just Macrinus. It is I who should be calling you the highest of honors.” He grinned as he kissed the front of her hand. “For I am just your servant, rebellious Emperess.”

“Macrinus, it is an honor to meet you. I….”

Geta snuck up behind her and wrapped his arm around her once again. “She is no longer a rebel, she is my wife  and one day, she will provide me with heirs to Rome to provide order.”  His grip tightened on her and Macrinus had noticed immediately. The advisor mumbled a “very well” before glancing at Sabina, providing a final bow and walked away.

Something told Sabina she was going to be talking again to him real soon.

************************************************************************

The ceremony ended slowly as the guests left to their homes or rented rooms respectfully. Geta and Sabina personally thanked everyone to this joyous occasion.

Only that it wasn’t joyous to either of them.

Once everyone left, Carcalla excused himself with some concubines as they went off to their own endeavours as he called it. Carcalla’s eyes, however didn’t leave her as he left. Geta let out a heavy sigh as soon as it was the two of them.

He closed his eyes for a moment just to take in the peace. “Finally, it is over.”

“I suppose it is, I guess that people of Rome will be at your feet as I am your bride.” Sabina looked down at her feet. She knows what is to come, her responsibilities and expectations but she wasn’t sure what was to become of her today.

“They will be, with you allied with me, adopting our customs. Your going to be a powerful empress.”He said, placing the palm of his hand under her chin. She looked up at him as he gave a smug smile. “You are not a prisoner here, but rather my wife. I expect you to behave as much and to be honest with me.”

All Sabina could do was nod. She knew that if he tried anything, the people of Rome would revolt. She only wanted to be at peace, and only take what her people needed.

Geta then took her by the hand and lead them to their chambers. Sabina had felt her heart start pacing. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for this, for anything regarding her marriage duties. Yet, she knew it was expected of her.

He closed the door behind her then he smiled at her. He reached to remove her robe, then he stopped. He seen the fear in her eyes and realised that only one party would enjoy it. He recalled the events from the night before and sighed.

The Emperor couldn’t do this, she wasn’t ready or even wanted to do it. He sighed and took off his ceremonial robes and looked at Sabina, who still refused to look at him.

“You know we don’t have to do this.” He said in a low tone.

“We must it’s part of customs….” Sabina began but Geta shushed her.

“I know, but we don’t have to. You are the Emperess, whatever you say happens with exceptions.” He muttered, reminding her of her place.  He kissed her hand and waited for her response. He knew that she was his, but he didn’t want to force her.

“I.. don’t believe I am ready yet to partake in such activities.” Sabina said after a short pause. Geta nodded and understood what she meant. She then cleared her throat “However, I did enjoy the activity that we partook last night.”

Geta blinked twice. He was going to apologize. He knew he was too forceful and aggressive towards her in the cell. He knew that it was his rage that consumed him, but now that he has her, he can watch her very carefully.

“I may prefer it a bit intense when it comes to pleasure.” She leans to his ear and whispers. She was insanely nervous, but she did like how he made her feel. Maybe she liked being treated like that, whose to say. But there was something that grew between her legs after that night. She wanted more, but she was afraid.

Geta’s eyes widened at her confession. Hearing a woman, say that was news to him. Sure, he had his concubines, where he could go for hours railing them from the back, hearing them wail in pleasure. But he was a bit surprised. He mumbled a “forgive me Venus” before he began kissing her neck.

Sabina felt the Emperor’s lips on her neck. She let out a soft whimper from the sense of ecstasy from it. There were parts of her that told her to run away to hide but other parts of her ensured her that she was safe with him.  She also had to play the game as well, she still had to help her people.

Geta grabbed her by her hips and began to walk her to the bed, taking his time with it. His lips never left her neck as his lips crawled to her collarbone. She had now idea how far from the door she moved until she felt the bed from the back of her knees. She had felt him push her down on the soft mattress and she had a moment to relax from the soft fabrics.  The two looked at each other for a moment before he began to take off her ritual stola, once again admiring her body.

“You are made by the gods, blessed by them.” He muttered as he flicked his tongue against her nipple, his lips curling as he seen how she squirmed by his touch. Her mouth gasped open as he let out a soft groan against her nipple. He began sucking it, testing the waters, she let out a loud moan. He grazed the sides of her body, taking her all in.

His lips trailed down to her stomach then admired her pussy, and admired it like a work of art. His brown eyes kept looking at her, watching her reaction. He liked it rough sure, but he wanted to make sure she was going to enjoy it as well. Any trace of pain, he was going to back out. The last thing he would want is Venus, who already hates him to curse him for doing wrong to her daughter.

If she was her child.

Geta took the chance and licked her pussy. It was a quick swipe, and Sabina squealed in response. He took a moment to take it in then did it again, with a similar response from her. All he was doing was test the waters and tasting her pussy. She was divine, even by her taste. He had to have more, so he began to devour her pussy.

Sabina felt strange, but in a good way. She was full of pleasure, and it felt insanely good on herself.  She felt a glow around her body as she had an emperor eating her out. She felt insanely powerful with this man completely at her mercy.  She wrapped her legs around him, which only made him dive further into her pussy. He muttered how her pussy tasted like the lemons he tasted the previous night in only which he would chuckle with himself. She felt a sense of pleasure that was ongoing then suddenly it vanished with the absence of his tongue.

Before she could say anything, Geta flipped her to her stomach. There was a pause, and the subtle sound of his robes being dropped. All Sabina did was shake her head then he nodded in understanding.

“I see.” The emperor muttered. There was a short period of silence. The emperor was a man of his word, and he didn’t want to scare off his new bride too soon.  However, he wanted to play around with her. He walked to the corner of his bed then stood up. His eyes not loosing contact with her. His brown eyes, once full of light were dark.

“Sit on my lap.” He said sternly. Sabina felt her heart drop at the site of the emperor of Rome. He was once so proud and dashing in his outfits. Now, he is bare, vulnerable to her, asking to be tormented by her. She glanced at his cock that had curly strawberry blonde hairs attached. She has seen one before, but nothing like this. Her cheeks turned red as she watched his chest heave.

 It wasn’t a suggestion, so she hopped onto his upper thigh as she took in his scent. The main smell was heavy wine and the oils he put onto himself prior to the ceremony. She got herself comfortable then she felt him begin to move his leg up and down. A grin spread across his  face as he watched her tits jiggle from the movement. He repeated it again and noticed how she grinned in response to the pleasure.

“Move.” He commanded. “Up and down my leg.”

She did as was asked of her.  Her pussy moved up and down his leg, taking in the feeling. When she was going to lean in to kiss his neck, she felt his hand cusp her dark hair and pull her face back. She gasped at the feeling but her eyes met with his.

“Eyes on me at all times mia Colmbia” He hissed under his breath. She nodded as she made sure to make eye contact with him. She does have power, but even it does have limits.

Brown eyes meet brown eyes again. No matter how much force, or aggression of movement, she was lost in the moment. Even just for a second, she felt invincible, the power she had and how she was desired by one of the emperors of Rome.  Even with her crimes, she wasn’t sure if it made her more attractive to him and this was his way of punishing her.

Regardless, Sabina liked it.

She blushed as the movements got more and more intense. Her knot in her stomach was blooming. Once again, once she felt her height of pleasure peak, he pushed her aside, away from his leg. His tongue stuck out and curled to the side as a wide grin spread across.

“Remember, your my wife, I can only make you finish.” He scoffed as Sabina at first wanted to resort to violence. A simple slap across the face would do, but no. She knew better than that. Instead, she needed to play her cards right with him. Just like he is doing with her. With this game of cat and mouse they are playing, it really does lead to the question who is the cat and who is the mouse.

“Right, sorry husband.” Sabina muttered. Geta nodded in agreement and excused himself. Sabina thought he was going to spend the night with his concubines. She did not want to care, but somehow she did.

It was the perfect time to take some looming jewels.

She got out of her bed and went straight to work, in hopes of taking what she can, bring it to the chapel and donate it. If her husband questions it, she will say it was a donation to the church that clearly needed it. However, she will know the truth.

What was he going to do? Kill her?

************************************************************************

Geta stood by the window, with a wine glass in hand taking in some thoughts while admiring the stars.

What was he going to do with her?

What was she going to do to him?

He knew he should have sent someone to watch over her, but he needed a break from the siren. Geta knew that she was going to take some jewellery and send it off to her church, her people.

Honestly, he couldn’t care less. The jewellery in his room was very little worth to him. He keeps his valuables in a locked safe. The jewellery in that room would be a donation at the very least in the eyes of the emperor.  However, if he catches her touch anything of value, she is going to be punished. A discussion will be made between them in the morning.

He called for Carcalla’s attendance. But he was nowhere to be seen. He assumed to he having the audience of his concubines.  The last thing he would want to do is to walk in on that scene.

What was he going to do with her? Have a family and children of course when it came down to it. But how was he going to mold her into the woman he wants her to be? Not the thief that she is but someone that would do everything he dreams of and more?

She was perfect, but needed training as Geta saw of it.

He finished the glass of wine then felt someone’s presence in the room with him. He looked around and saw no one. He cleared his throat then let out a soft gasp after feeling a blade down his neck. He didn’t bother turning around, afraid of the consequences of doing so.

“You can take the jewels, mel.” He assumed it was his wife, but the sly chuckle that followed made him realise it wasn’t her. He didn’t budge.

“You really think your wife would do this? She already ran off with your jewels. She’ll be back in the morning though.”  Her voice was dark, mellow and sinister. He wanted to ask who they were and what they wanted.

Geta paused for a moment before he could talk, the blade dug into his skin. He let out a soft yelp.

“I am going to do the talking. I will keep it simple for you to understand. Don’t. Hurt. My niece! Her mother is already at her wits end with this grand scheme of yours. She doesn’t wish her daughter to get hurt you see and son of whore emperors like you seem to think you can meddle with us without consequences. This is your one and only warning Geta.”

Before he could respond, he felt her presence gone. He was freaked out, wondering who it was and why they came at this hour. Yet, he only looked at his glass.

Perhaps he gifted himself too much with the wine.

He smirked to himself and sighed. This sounds more like a discussion with the wife in the morning.

“Emperor your neck.” He heard Macrinus say.

Geta turned around and sighed at him. “I am fine, did you see anyone run off from this direction?”. He was looking around which had Macrinus concerned.

The advisor scrunched his brows “No, no I haven’t Emperor. Why should we send to search for them?”

Geta nodded as the advisor walked closer to him. “I would have thought you would spend the night with your wife, not out here.”

There was a pause as he looked down to his feet. “I did, she’s asleep now.” He knew that wasn’t the case, but he didn’t want anyone to know that he will need to punish her further for her crimes. He didn’t want the people of Rome to be angry.

Now he thought he pissed the gods off too.

[5targh0st]

NUMBER ONE GIRL

38. feeling feelings (written)

prev // m.list // next

As cliché as it sounds, before meeting you, Yeonjun never actually thought about the consequences of his actions. After the incident with Minho, he only cares about having a good time and surrounding himself with pleasure and excitement so he could drown his pain. At some point, he actually stopped feeling hurt and started enjoying the parties, the drinks, and the girls. All the attention and praise he got made him feel part of everyone else, as if he was no longer an outsider. However, at the same time, all of that made him seem unreachable for most people. It was perfect; he got to enjoy the mundanity of it all while protecting himself from yet another heartbreak. But then it wasn't...

Meeting you is the best thing that could have happened to him. Yes, you were broken, but you both have been trying to build each other back up and make something real out of it. He's happy. When he's with you he forgets the past, and then it reaches him and makes him doubt. His insecurities drag him down and scream at him how he's not enough. He wasn't enough back then and he's even worse now.

"Wanna talk about it?" You ask while running your fingers through his hair, something you just learned helps him relax.

"I have to." His voice is merely above a whisper but is enough to make you shiver. Sure, you've cuddled and shared a bed before, but he's never exactly been this close to you. Every breath he takes tickles your neck and makes you want to have him even closer.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want."

"I do want to tell you but for now let me stay like this a little longer." He feels so small and yet so safe. Has he ever been held like this? Maybe his bar is also on the floor.

"Whatever you need."

He wakes up in the middle of the night without being able to remember when he fell asleep. Your arms are still around him and you're still playing with his hair.

"Why are you still awake?"

"I'm not tired, it's not even midnight." He can hear the smile. "Had a good nap?"

"Absolutely, you're the best pillow ever." He wraps his arms around your waist and brings your bodies closer.

"Charming as ever, I see."

You stay like that for a little while, just bathing in each other's presence and warmth. He's scared to even breathe too loud and bursting this bubble of peace and comfort. He has to, though.

"I'm sorry," he starts and before you can protest he continues. "I know you think I don't have to apologize but I need to. You've been going through some messed up shit because of me and you don't deserve to. And maybe you didn't want to make me feel bad or whatever but you should've told me.

I'm not mad, though. If anything I just feel grateful that you thought about me even in that overwhelming situation. But this also made me realize how much more you deserve. I can't change my past and I can't promise you people are just gonna leave us alone, they have the right to feel whatever they're feeling after all.

What I can promise is that I'll do everything in my power to make you feel confident in this relationship. You have nothing to worry about. I'll try even harder."

"Yeon-"

"Please, let me finish. I'll make us work. But, if you have already decided this is too much and you don't wanna go through the hassle I also understand that. You didn't sign up for this kind of harassment after all. I'll stay away if that's what you want. I'll even give you space to think about it."

He sounds so defeated. He told you he had issues, you just didn't realize how deep his insecurities run.

"There's nothing to think about," your voice remains calm. "I want to be with you. It's not a hassle and you're not too much. I'll be happy to walk with you and make this work."

He doesn't say anything, he just buries his face in the crook of your neck and holds you even tighter. He even sheds some tears but you don't notice, and if you do you don't comment on it. Is this what love feels like?

notes:

I love them so much

beomgyu adores yn because she makes yeonjun happy but he's never saying that out loud

taglist: (30/50)

@estella-novella @poetryforthesad @lisaswifey @angelzforu @ihrtlix @gloriousqueenking @domfikeluva @circus-of-thoughts @conwunder @miniature-tragedy @jeonginplsholdmyhand @sh0dor1 @yourenzoo @tkshairband @realrintaro @castingjinx @amara-mars @hwangrfrnd @nujeskz @jisungs-iced-americano

[gachagon]

I've read a few of Damon's dialogues and I actually think he hates his talent a bit.

It's hinted at that the only reason he continues with it is because it got his parents' money as he talked about it in Eloises FTE if I remember correctly. He won money via debate competition, and so because his talent was helping his parents, he continued doing it. It's also probably why he's so harsh with other people's talents. If it doesn't help people, it's not important, or if it doesn't improve something, it's not important.

At the end of the prologue, when asked what makes his talent so important, he stutters and hesitates about it. If he can argue any angle, why hesitate against something that he would know so much about. In trials, he's not really arguing and more just bringing stuff to light and explaining things. He isn't really debating.

His talent made him isolated from everyone, and if all you do is argue and you're relied on because of it, you're going to be more blunt and rude. He's definitely not used to doing things in a sweeter way.

So maybe his arc would be more learning to enjoy debating and realizing that talent isn't everything. (He'll stay an asshole throughout the series. It's what makes me love him so much.) He isn't self-conscious about it more that he grew to dislike his talent like Eva.

I actually really like Damon as a protagonist even though he's mean and rude about basically everything, I think that's what's charming about him to begin with! I didn't pick up on his slight insecurity about his talent, but I did notice he's constantly comparing talents with other Ultimates, and trying to weigh their utility for society, so maybe he does have something against being a "debater".

it almost makes me think that his personality and ego are just a facade he puts on to feel more confident about his talent being something kind of ordinary. When you really think about it, his talent is kind of on par with Eva's in that it's something just about anyone can do and "get good" at if they just practiced more, and there's some usefulness for it in society but most people don't ever really think about Debate or Math unless they're shafted with jobs that directly call for that kind of stuff.

While Damon may be kind of a mean guy, he's actually a pretty empathetic person, which makes sense because in order to be good at Debating you also have to understand the point your opposition is making. And even when Damon has never had experience with the issues his classmates has, he still recognizes that it must have been hard for specifically that person (I noticed he did this exact thing in Kai's FTE's too lol)

On the flip side, I find that Damon is also really honest about how he feels and what he thinks, where as most of the cast prefer to keep things like that about themselves hidden. Damon has secrets and even lies, sure, but when it comes time to voice his general opinion about the Killing Game he's always honest and doesn't sugar coat it. He's a jerk about what he says, but he doesn't care because he will only ever be honest if he believes he's right about it.

Damon has a sense of confidence that's not often found in Dangan protags, but he's also a bit insecure which reminds me of ALL the dangan protags lol.

[allwaswell16]

[4 pics, 4 quotes, 4 iconic 1D fics]

Iconic fics by...

- haztobegood -

[1]

NailedByLouis: Don’t worry, I cleaned up the mess

Before Harry types out a response, Louis sends another. This time it is a picture. A selfie of Louis licking the blue frosting from his fingers. It is so suggestive, nearly pornographic, the way Louis is staring straight into the camera. Harry drops his phone on his face.

“Ow,” Harry whines as he picks up his phone and looks again. Did Louis intend for that picture to look like that? It’s a much clearer selfie than the one posted publicly. Harry notices a few tattoos on Louis’ wrist, the sharp line of his jaw, his piercing blue stare. Everything about the flirty picture turns Harry on. Blood rushes south as unbidden visions come to mind of what else those fingers, or that tongue, could do to him. He shifts around on his bed, surprised to realize he is getting hard from just one selfie. Harry’s heart races and his palms are damp as he types.

harrysizzles: I’m not sure anything about that is clean

NailedByLouis: Maybe next time you should be here to help me clean up ;)

[2]

Harry’s eyes turn dark as he challenges Louis with a fierce glare. It’d be incredibly intimidating if it wasn’t so damn hot. “I told you not to do that.”

“Whoops,” Louis huffs out a laugh. “I forgot.” It’s not like he regrets tossing the mic and he’s sure his fans loved it, too.

“The mics are fragile and I don’t know if I’ll be able to find replacements easily if one of them were to break, especially once we are in the Midwest. You need to be more careful with the equipment. Don’t make me have to remind you again.”

“Right,” Louis clears his throat. He really needs to get railed if this talking-to is all that he needs to bring him to his knees. Louis aims for feigned nonchalance, hoping his indifference will push Harry’s buttons the way Harry’s warnings are getting to him. He smiles at Harry sweetly, and taps him lightly on the chest twice as he says, “Well, I’ll try to remember next time.”

[3]

“Well, I’m sure Harold would look stunning in a wedding dress someday.” Louis laughs lightly.

Louis' joking tone doesn't ease the sting of the four people laughing at Harry's expense, especially when the thought of wearing a dress hits a little too close to home for Harry. To deflect from further comments about brides and dresses, Harry swats at Louis’ arm. Louis grabs his hand and holds it tight to prevent any further attacks. Unexpectedly, he twines their fingers together at their sides. “You’re right Aunt Sharon,” Louis grins devilishly, “I should put a ring on him so no one else can scoop him up.”

Everyone in the room laughs. Everyone except Harry. He might have found it all funny, if he didn’t want so badly for it to be true. It’s unnerving how spending just a few hours around Louis has made him feel more intense crush and desire to be with him. And all the while, Louis has seen it as a joke. To him it’s a strange situation of helping his friend's little brother to get out of an awkward situation. But to Harry, it had started to feel like so much more.

He should have never agreed to Niall’s suggestion. He should have turned Louis away the moment he’d opened his door.

[4]

By Niall’s third drink he has thrown subtlety out the window. He leans his elbow on the table nonchalantly and asks, “So, Louis, are you planning on showing Harry the Royal Jewels tonight?”

Louis laughs loudly, caught off guard by the brazen question.

“Hey!” Harry whines in protest. He gives Niall’s shoulder a teasing push in retaliation. “I’m not that easy. I require at least one date before I put out.”

Harry winks at Louis. Louis breath catches in his throat, laughter cut short by Harry’s coy response.

Answers below...

[1]

Nailed By Louis

It had started as a joke, just two months earlier. Louis had tried to make recipe from HarrySizzles Instagram account. It looked doable: no strange ingredients, no scary kitchen machinery. Just a simple layered lettuce salad. The result had been catastrophic. His friends had laughed so hard at the disgusting appearance of his salad, and after a few drinks, Louis had been convinced to start his own Instagram to track his food failures.

[2]

More Than a Mic Drop

“You dropped the mic last night.”

“Oh, yeah. I did.” Louis gives a little shrug. He tucks his hands into the pockets of his baggy grey sweatpants.

“That was really careless.” His tone is very stern, unlike his usual bubbly and helpful voice when he suggests Louis try singing a chorus for the third time as he adjusts the sound mix again. Harry levels him a serious look and suddenly the room feels too hot. “You could have broken the mic and we don’t have a lot of spares.”

[3]

Not Another Lonely Christmas

Harry should be more nervous that he’s bringing a literal stranger to meet his extended family, but he figures it can’t be much more awkward than Aunt Sharon’s Christmas parties usually are. Instead, he’s looking forward to having an extra person to buffer the conversation.

A knock comes one minute after eleven. He lets out the breath and opens the door. “Hi there— Louis?!”

Or, the one where the friend Niall sets up as Harry's fake boyfriend turns out to be Gemma's best friend Louis

[4]

The Prince and The YouTuber

The Annual Rosendal Spring Gala hosted by the Royal Family is the most prestigious fundraiser in the country. When a problem with the honorary foundation arises, Crown Prince Louis Tomlinson must pick a new worthy foundation on short notice. He discovers the perfect replacement in an unlikely place, while watching his favorite YouTuber, Harrysparkles.

@haztobegood

[waywardwhispersblaze]

about Vi's ending

So, I get that a lot of people are unsatisfied with Vi's story arc in Arcane. I feel unsatisfied too. Here are some of my reasons. I wrote this as a response to another post initially, but I wanted to elaborate a little bit more.

So we know that the question the writers had for Vi was "what would happen if Vi had no one left to protect?"

"she would fall in love" is a lovely answer. I don't hate it, but it does feel like the bare minimum they could come up with... and even that had to be stripped for time. For instance, what does she want to do for a living?

That's not a random question. Her lore in the game tells us that she ends up working as an enforcer. Arcane makes it difficult for her at the beginning (you know, the enforcers-killed-my-parents thing), but we all expect that it's coming regardless.

I know a lot of people here never liked the idea of Vi becoming an enforcer. Not me. Give me Enforcer!Vi! Just make it a story, instead of skipping over it.

They had her join the enforcers in s2 act I for all the wrong reasons (guilt + fear of losing Caitlyn + thinking violence is the answer to her problems), which is not a bad thing, that's expected at this point of the story. They did skip over her motivations and left a lot to read between the lines, and that's frustrating in itself but that's not the problem. My problem with it is that it doesn't go anywhere. How does she feel about working with them in the end? Now that she's no longer blinded by her rage towards the Chembarons and Jinx's actions? Is it really just for Caitlyn's sake? Is there room in there somewhere for wanting to be a protector to the city, like Grayson did, if she even cares about that at all? (it makes sense that she doesn't in Arcane, but what about in the future? she's still a protector at heart, even if she has no family left) If she does, how does she reconcile that with what the enforcers are to the Undercity, does she genuinely think she can do some good? I could answer some of these with "oh well, she does end up as Caitlyn's partner so I'm just gonna go with 'yes' for convenience". But I wish Arcane had answered this for me.

What about the enforcers, how do they feel about her? Do they respect her? How would she interact with them in the future? Her only friend there, Loris, died at the end of S2 (I'm annoyed about that. not mad, not sad. Just annoyed), so she's effectively alone.

I suppose the root of the problem is that I watched Arcane with the expectation that Vi would end up as a Piltover champion by the end of it. That's not an unreasonable expectation considering her lore, but I can accept that Arcane just wasn't about "ending" character stories or bringing them to their lore counterpart. That's fair. Even within the story of Arcane though, where she ends up isn't fully satisfying. She's physically in Piltover, but mentally she's in a place where she doesn't really belong anywhere except with 1 (one) person, and we still have no idea what she wants to do with her life (outside of banging Caitlyn that is). Don't get me wrong, I love caitvi! I love what they did with them as a pair! But I have so many questions about Vi specifically that are unresolved.

Maybe that's the point. Arcane's ending is an open ending after all. But Caitlyn had a story arc outside of her relationship with her. Jinx had a story arc outside of her relationship with her. Even if their overall stories are not over, the Arcane story does leave them both in a place where they have grown from what they went through and even if we never see them again, we can feel like their story had a proper conclusion. Arcane doesn't leave Vi with a conclusion outside of her romance arc. Or to be fair, maybe it is a conclusion, just no one that I like / was hoping for. I sort of get that her not being able to grow was the point (to further Jinx's development. A lot of their scenes together were always more about Jinx's development and framed from Jinx's POV, which is a different complaint and an entirely different post). Not having agency at all was the point. But where does she go from there? Genuine question. Her character arc doesn't feel finished.

A lot of my frustrations would be soothed over if we had the certainty of having spin-offs. But 1) nothing is ever certain, 2) if something's coming, it's probably far in the future, 3) if and when it does come, there's no guarantee that Vi wouldn't be more than a background character.

Unfortunately, the general feeling I get from the writers' interviews is that they do feel like they really did get her where they wanted, so I'm not particularly hopeful that they have more stories to tell with her. Outside of being Caitlyn's partner that is.

(no, I don't think they "don't care about" or "hate" her character by the way. That's twisting their words beyond recognition)

So that's why I can't feel fully satisfied with Vi's story. I still love Arcane. I'm still looking forward to seeing more of the Runeterra universe. But as someone who really liked Vi's character from the start, I'm left with crumbs. Hints of what could be, but never the full picture, and more questions than answers. And that's disheartening, to be honest.

[emo-trash101]

Hiiii! I would absolutely love if you did an arcane women x asthmatic child! Maybe Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Mel, and Ambessa?

Oh yes ofc I would love to do that! I am moving Ambessa over to another ask (from Nina ml 🫶) since there's gonna be multiple parts of these and I'm low-key getting lazy

Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, and Mel x Asthmatic! Child

Pronouns: second person

Tw: SEASON 2 SPOILERS

Jinx (Season 2) -

- She knows what it's like to be abandoned, and to feel like it's more work for you to be taken care of than it's worth.

- I think she knows better than anyone else.

- That's why when she takes you in, it isn't just a simple impulsive act, it was a promise.

- It was a promise to you, to Isha, and most importantly, to herself.

- In general, she enjoyed the company you brought her. You gave her more creative input for her weapons, and gave her a new hobby.

- She suddenly developed a slight addiction to making you new and more colorful masks.

- By the first month you've lived with her she's made you at least 10 more.

- But she's a good mom, even if she can't see it herself very much.

Vi -

- She would honestly probably be one of the few people who sees tiny kid who like can't breathe and is just like, "Oh shit, normal lanes behaviour." And just walk away

- Like she isn't exactly the person to take a kid under her wing, especially cause she has this whole self deprecated mindset of how she isn't good enough for really anything

- But you likely end up following her, considering that it's probably a better choice than suffocating on the cold and dirty ground, and eventually, she just accepts that you're following her

- She brings you surprisingly to Jayce to figure out if one of your face masks can be built, and bro has such a soft spot for kids you get like 10 in one sitting made for you

- She has no specific opinion or worry about your illness, aside from the constant fear of you dying

- Her abandonment issues kick in an oddly large amount when you have coughing fits, and she can't keep herself from worrying if this is gonna be the last time she'll hear them

- But even when she's worrying like that, she tries to focus on just caring for you

- It makes her feel like when she used to take care of Powder

- And it makes her feel like she got a second chance.

Caitlyn (season 1) -

- So when she finds you on the streets during one of your patrols, her bleeding heart causes her to almost immediately leap to action.

- She immediately tells Marcus she's taking a break (whether he wants her to or not) and takes you to the best doctor she can find

- She holds your hand when you get diagnosed

- She may not really know you, but she doesn't really care, she just wants to help people, even if it ends up just being you who she helps

- After that, the doctor gives you your mask and she presumes you'll go on your merry way, doing whatever else it was in Piltover before she basically disrupted your life.

- But even months after she had met you, you both seem to run into each other much more.

- Whether it's you following her while she's on patrols, or just potential coincidence, you both seem to run into each other more and more.

- Eventually this leads to the conversation about where your (lack of) parents are.

- And this is when she decides to take you in.

- Her mother obviously lectures her about taking in stray children, and how hard it is to raise a child, and more

- But after that you basically just became a Kiramman from that day forth.

Mel -

- She never expected to meet you (but then again neither did literally any of the others), but it was especially not gonna be today

- it felt, odd to find a small child alone in Piltover, usually they would be with family, or at least some semblance of a caregiver

- But you were just sitting there, propped up against a wall, coughing your poor little lungs out

- So, regardless of her inhibitions, she takes you to a doctor.

- She feels a twinge of guilt when you receive a diagnosis, like she could've done something to prevent it

- But a part of her feels connected to you

- She knows what it feels like to be cast out from family, to have no one to turn to in your time of need.

- And right now she feels a need to be that rock for you to rest upon

- So you stay with her, after she convinces herself it will only be until she can find you a suitable family.

- She talks to Jayce and Victor about how to handle your illness, the mental and physical support that is required, along with just generally everything

- Before she knows it, she has an adoption certificate for you, and you're officially her child.

- And on that day, she makes a silent promise that she will be better than her mother was

Ik this took forever to come out, I've been low-key kinda mega depresso, but I promise that the final part with the rest of the characters will be coming out soon 🙏🙏🙏

Make sure you eat food and drink water

[alittlebitofloveliness]

just read both of your posts about the outsiders scenario of ponyboy died instead of johnny, and now I'm curious — just theoretically, how do you see it going down if dallas was the one to die first? i know it's completely illogical and he's just not the type to die all of a sudden or be reckless in a "hero" way, but still. I'm really damn curious about how it would affect johnny, especially, as you have mentioned that losing someone in the gang would've taken a big toll on him.

Hi anon! I'm really having fun with this though experiment, thank you for the ask. If anyone else has any more feel free to send asks, and for anyone who's new to this meta heres part 1, part 2, and part 3.

Now, let's dive in. In what world does Dallas die before/instead of Johnny and how does it change the story's outcome? You're right in that Dallas isn't particularly illogical or 'heroic', but he IS incredibly loyal, reckless to a fault, and absolutely ruled by his emotions. He follows Pony and Johnny into the fire, and emerges with a burned arm. Now this action is heroic but also selfish, and reckless to the point of dangerous. Dallas easily could have been the one who broke his back and ended up dying in the hospital instead of Johnny. In fact, it was arguably his plan, as he and Johnny tossed Pony out first and Dally only followed behind immediately since Pony was literally on fire. I firmly think that when Dallas ran into the church he didn't have any plan other than to get the other two out no matter what, even if it meant sacrificing himself. Remember, Johnny is Dallas' living embodiment of hope, he cannot see anything happen to him, and like the rest of the gang Dallas is protective of Ponyboy- he also is gallant to an extent, Johnny wasn't wrong about that.

So Dally gets hit in the back with a burning beam and he gets rushed to the hospital and then he dies. Now, Dallas Winston doesn't do anything by halves and that includes dying. Since Johnny and Pony are with him in the hospital he dies a lot sooner than Johnny, maybe even before the rest of the gang gets there. Ponyboy's reunion with his brothers is made more emotional with Dallas gone, and Johnny- well, Johnny could go one of two ways.

In canon verse we see Johnny commit to staying gold- or at least not dying with hate- but this commitment only comes after he's accepted his death is imminent. While it's possible seeing Dally die would bring about the same realization as in canon- especially in a universe where Dally's death is less violent than it canonically was- one must remember that Dally was Johnny's hero. He looked up to him immensely, above anyone else, and had faith in Dallas that no one else did. I think seeing Dally's heroic act being the cause of his death might make Johnny think that maybe Dally had the right idea being cold and cruel and mean. Maybe he sees that and then goes to the rumble and enjoys the feeling of kicking the socs asses because he knows Dally would have loved it too. Maybe he sees Ponyboy, sick and weak, delirious after being kicked in the head, fighting through nightmares and horrified by Dally's death and a piece of him hardens. Maybe he sees Steve cry and Soda holding him up, watches Darry identify the body of someone else he cared about, sees Two-bit turn back to his bottle, and maybe he makes a decision. Maybe Johnny sees the east side and all that it does and thinks maybe Dally had the right of it, maybe it is better to be harsh and cruel, maybe it means he can take care of Pony and the rest of the gang better, maybe if he's colder everyone will stop treating him like a victim and maybe he can stop feeling like one.

I think the story could end with Dally's death and Johnny becoming exactly like him and it would change the themes but it wouldn't change the message too much if that makes sense? Like, it would still hammer home the ideas of cycles of violence and that people are people, and it's their choices that define them- but it would change the characters inexorably.

Thanks for the ask!

[caocao-caokie-blog]

Omg thanks for the response! When I read your post it was due to a number of factors that made me decide to rant, but I’m glad you appreciated it! To be fair, I think a small part of me still is peeved at the overall aura of the post and what it gave to me, but that’s some subjective shit that I’m not taking into account. Your points are valid and I seek more people need to hear your voice because like y’all, it’s a game. I need to hear it as much as others do that wishing death upon a person is not cool, never was, and is actively regressive in wishing for a fair and just society and getting our voices heard, maybe not by Hoyo, but to other competitors who will take up the challenge.

I loved you pointing out how they wouldn’t lose people because yes! Like, I feel many people would still be here to play the game even if they brought darker skin in. People who say it doesn’t sell or isn’t sexy are just plain wrong or racist because, pointed bout before and now, what matters is the kits they bring and stories they provide. The ‘packaging’ (design and backstory) are cool and just as important as everything else! Plus, I feel like most player don’t care about the skin color at all and I get it; it’s a game and you don’t see it affecting real life. I do, so there is that obvious disconnect!

Getting back on topic, a lot of people are showing their colorist/racist sides by actively accepting the representation. What would be more fruitful is, aside from boycotting which wouldn’t work with the skewed anger in the fanbase and people being loud minorities like myself, is the ideas of voting with their wallet. We have ample time to buy both Iansan and Ifa soon, and I want to encourage at least the Western part of the fanbase to go for them. No shame though if you don’t want them! It will show our interest in darker skinned characters possibly in the future. Also, mods exist but not everyone plays PC like me because I like mobile so yeah not a great answer. For people like me, I have left the game and just absorb it through hearsay and videos on the off chance so tell me what y’all like!

Either way, thanks for the response! Sorry again for offloading all this text on you! I was really passionate when writing my grievance with Genshin’s piss poor choices so yeah. 👍

i just need to rant a bit-

i truly feel like genshin has gone down since natlan, and not even because of the nation itself, but the way the fuckass fandom has reacted to it. i’m not going to lie, i am also disappointed in the execution of many of the characters and the archon quest so far, but i also do not think natlan is nearly as bad as people are making it out to be. i’ve also heard people say that the landscape is the ugliest in the whole game, and can I be honest? i think the biggest reason is because it’s different. most of the other nations have been more muted and/or monochrome, but then we get natlan with its loud music and bright colors and people are upset. (do they not realize that latin america, what natlan is heavily based off of, is also extremely colorful and vibrant??)

i used to love being in this fandom so much because of the community we’ve built, but now it’s all so negative because people look for the bad in everything. like i said, i also think natlan could be better in so many ways, but i also at the same time think that it’s so cool and fun and unique and it makes me sad to see the once passionate community shitting on it every fucking chance they get.

i think if hoyo was better at giving us the diversity they supposedly advertise they have (i.e i am so mad that literally just about every character in the whole damn game has the same skin tone-) that people would be enjoying natlan the way they did sumeru or inazuma (fontaine is still peak imo). when natlan first came out, i remember most people were happy and excited to explore and try the new characters but then people started hating and it festered into this big ugly thing and now i can’t go to a single platform where the genshin fandom exists without getting death threats for saying i like Chasca.

grow up, guys. you’re allowed not to like things, that’s totally totally okay. but we’ve turned the genshin fandom into this nasty place (granted, it was never that great to begin with.. but at least before natlan i didn’t have rats in my ear bashing on me for liking a character/nation every second). it just makes me sad because while natlan could be so much better, people refuse to even try and enjoy it a little bit and now ion even wanna talk to anyone about it anymore.

anyways sorry for this it probably doesn’t make sense sorry for sounding angry but yeh.. i’ve enjoyed natlan. just don’t send me death threats if that makes you angry ig 🤷‍♀️

[yuwuta]

gojo would kill your work husband. but if he were the work husband, that's a different story

REAL!! he’s such a hypocrite because if someone mentioned you had a work husband, his entire world would stop and he wold devise the absolute worst plans to make sure that your co-worker, everyone at your job, and everyone in the next building over knew that he was happily committed to you 

but if he is the work husband, he’s very........ dutiful in his role. there’s a loose office/lawyer au in my head where satoru is your secretary, and for all intents and purposes, your personal assistant, and he’s good at his job, but mostly because he considers his job to be pleasing you. he has coffee for you when you arrive, he moves your schedule around without you asking, he has answers to questions before you can even ask them, he has fresh flowers on your desk weekly, pokes into your meetings to pretend to hand you a file that’s really just maybe a single document in a manilla folder with candy on top of it—he’s made himself your business, your partner; he’s made himself irreplaceable, and he loves to remind everybody of that fact. 

he’s also extremely loyal. sure, he could day a week’s worth of work done in about a day, but that doesn’t mean he’ll just use his talents for anybody. he’s your secretary, so he’s at your beck and call, and everyone knows it. they know he’s the best, but also that he’s off limits—not because you won’t share him, but because satoru won’t let himself be shared. 

he also extends his duties beyond work, of course. when he hands you a print out of your schedule for the day and you’re confused by the three-hour block of time you have in the middle of the day, satoru just helps you shrug your coat of your shoulders and smiles, “that’s for the lunch date you have with me, of course!” hanging up your coat in your closet for you, “i’m paying, see you soon, sweets.” and because you’re great at your job, and satoru helps you be great, nobody really questions when the two of you have time for a 13-course tasting menu at 1pm on a tuesday afternoon. and if they did, all satoru would say that you two had a lovely date 

[deoidesign]

Can you make a tutorial on how you world build and make ocs? I can't seem to make any people in my brain, but then when I try to come up with environments jobs, beliefs and little details to slowly come up with someone, I think: well I don't really know how people have influenced the world- it's a weird loop

To be honest, I don't think I can! Writing is an extremely personal process. The way I write is directly related to how I process things, what I find important in stories, years of my own analysis of my and other's writing, etc... The way you write will be unique to you, as well. But I can explain how I personally think of it.

The short answer:

Write. Write anything and everything, it's a tool to explore your ideas. Analyze your own writing, and write more. Then, as you discover which ideas you want to develop, write more to explore them more. You won't know what you want otherwise!

The long answer:

I think this kind of loop is common. It's easy to feel like everything needs to be done "at once," because our job as writers is to make elements logically fit with each other for our readers. But as you've discovered, developing multiple elements simultaneously isn't really possible, or at least is extremely difficult.

Personally, when I think of writing, I break it into three major elements; characters, world, and plot. As much as possible every scene explores one or more of these, and as much as possible these three things tie back into what I personally consider most important: theme.

Everything I do is in service of the themes I want to present. Without them my events feel aimless. It can take a while to discover them, but they're the core of my work. You will have to discover what you feel is the core of yours. Analyzing other media helps with this too.

Concepts in your brain exist in a state of infinite potential. But when you start writing you have to start making choices, which removes potential as you move forward... But you have to move forward anyways. If there's ideas you want to explore later, you can always explore them later.

What this ends up meaning, to answer your question, is that I don't think of my characters as "people in my brain" or my worlds as something people have influenced... Not at their core, at least. They are tools that I use to represent specific ideas. Obviously they're also my blorbos, but mostly they're serving a specific narrative purpose.

So above all else... Write. Write, and discover what you're writing about, and then start over and write with that in mind. Keep doing this. But you have to write!

[godisasimp]

So my canon is that Sparkle doesn't exist and actually vita is weirdly flirting with Leyah she's already doing that well i suppose Vita just Vitad her way through everything and everything happened relatively the same and also Kiana is still in a coma playing Elden Ring DLC she was not visited by a pink weirdo.

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

trying to finish reading dungeon meshi now that it's done and just seeing everyone in the comments talking about ships. gun to my head

[van-iira]

The weird feeling when your parents are strangers, guests in their own home. Where the only time you have two more people for dinner at the same time it's your friends from school. Where the taste of home comes from your dear friend who might as well have become a part of it. (Incoherent screaming)

Happy Birthday Hiiro! Sorry I used your birthday as an excuse to focus on your weird family situation <3