#that one i'm really struggling with at the moment.
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hanihomed · 2 days ago
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Read it once in your life, and never regret it.🖐️✅
Are you bored with posts asking for help from Gaza? You are right, but imagine our situation as we live this war day after day for 15 months!! do you think we're tired too
I have been injured for 12 months and my condition is as it is every day there is no treatment or medicine my condition is as it is every day it gets worse no food or drink in Gaza every day we die of hunger The most beautiful thing for a person is to have a family and a family, but unfortunately my wife gave birth to her daughter Mariam and she died as a result of the war on Gaza.
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What is the fault of our children to deprive their childhood of their most basic rights of education, food, drink and fun? They have lost all their childhood memories in our destroyed house.
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My father is an older 75 years old, a hypertensive patient who also needs treatment and attention, lost his home, he does not have the ability to walk
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Asking for help is not easy, it is very embarrassing, especially for a family that is used to living a decent life. We used to help others, not ask for help.
But the war has turned our lives
I have been Hani for the past 15 months and I have been infected and unable to meet the needs of my family, but my wife has been struggling to get healthy food for my children and medicine for my injury and my elderly father, whose weak body has been attacked by infection and anemia. Where prices have risen 10 times and are very, very expensive, everything is done. As you read my letter, my family and I try to survive through all kinds of suffering.
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What was once a beautiful dream and reality is now a nightmare. Hunger is one thing, but hunger and conscription forced you to flee in the middle of the night when tanks suddenly arrive in your area, and you run away to save your life while I am injured and unable to move a difficult and indescribable feeling, I want to flee and my father and my fear for my children and my wife is something tiring and sad to describe all that while we are under fire, leaving behind all his daughters for years
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Can you feel my broken heart now?? Can you imagine what I'm going through in these moments? We desperately need your help in the hope of escaping Gaza and reaching safety to save my life from my serious injury and save my family from danger and explosions.
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You may feel helpless for this genocide, but you can certainly save my family.We appeal to your merciful hearts to help us escape this catastrophe, which the human mind cannot bear
I know that you share my story out of love and humanity, and I am really grateful for that❤️☘️🙏.
Please share our campaign with your family and friends
The cost of monthly treatment to buy treatment and painkillers for my injury is $ 700 A bag of flour costs $250 and is the main source of food for my family and is required daily to make bread. We live in a tent and my children are shivering cold. All I can do is pray.
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Please, don't just watch or share so a small donation can be a lifeline for a hungry or sick child who is suffering🙏🙏
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Please help us get out of life's crises and the woes of war
Read more about us in the following link, please donate to us on it and share it 👇
Please help us get out of life's crises and the woes of war
Thank you to everyone who supports us in these difficult circumstances, thank you for your humanity and sympathy with us, may God make you happy throughout your life 🙏
Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #99 ) ✅
🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹
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missadangel · 1 day ago
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The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)
All Chapters List
XIX. Trouble (Smut!18+!MDNI)
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Nulla sunt arcana quae tempus non indicat.
There are no secrets that time does not reveal.
                                                                  J.R.
"Hanno?" You stammered slightly. It was strange to see him standing before you after such a long time and even more confusing to feel uncertain about how to respond. "Is that really you?"
He smiled, displaying his familiar smile.
"I think so."
That was exactly the sort of response he'd give.
"There he is!"
A man shouted from behind, momentarily distracting you. Hanno narrowed his eyes and swore.
"Get him! Quickly!”
Before you could even think, Hanno grabbed your arm and whispered in your ear, "I'll be at the popina (wine bar) near the gladiator school tomorrow." He took a quick look over your shoulder.
Geta looked alarmed when he saw the men running towards you. "Aurelia! Protect the princess!"
"I have to go now. I'll wait for you there, Aya."
You opened your mouth, but you couldn't say anything; you just watched him running down the street, getting away. The men stormed past you and ran after him, while Geta and the guards came to your side in a hurry.
"My lady! Are you alright?"
Geta grabbed your shoulders. "Did he do something to you?"
You shook your head.
At that moment, the sound of horses neighing echoed around.
"General!" one of the guards called out, looking backwards.
You both looked over there.
Marcus jumped off his horse, eyes narrowed, which made you nervous. He was looking at Geta's hands on your shoulders as he walked quickly towards you, so Geta swiftly removed his hands from your shoulders.
"Acacius, you are very intuitive."
But he did not look at him, his eyes fixed on yours. You smiled at him, though it was weak.
"My lady, I was not aware of your intention to visit here." His voice was filled with curiosity. He turned his eyes to Geta.
"I have asked her to accompany me here."
You were about to answer yourself when the men who had just chased after Hanno turned around with him, grabbing both arms. Geta stopped them with a raised hand.
They bowed to him.
"Who is this man? How dare you touch the princess? Speak!"
You looked at Geta, getting mad at him for mentioning 'touching thing' in front of Marcus. Just as you expected, he clenched his jaw, tensing up.
“I said speak!”
Hanno didn't answer, he just glared at him menacingly, which made them even more tense.
"Emperor Geta asked you a question!" Marcus snarled.
"He escaped from the gladiator school, Your Majesty. We've been looking all over for him." One of them replied.
"He's from the colonies, your highness. He only speaks his native language." The other one explained.
Your eyes widened as Marcus gripped the handle of his sword.
"He meant no harm," you said, your voice cracking.
"Gladiator?" Geta tilted his head and studied his face. He then looked at them and yelled. "How could you let him escape and roam free on the streets? You useless bastards!"
Hanno looked at Marcus in a slightly odd way; there was a clear sense of tension between them.
"What the hell are you waiting for?" Geta gestured with his hands. "Get him out of here now!"
You placed both hands on Marcus' as he gripped his sword. "I'm alright," you reassured him.
Your touch had the usual calming effect on him. But his expression didn't soften until the men pushed Hanno into the prisoner's carriage. Hanno gazed at you from within the cage as you watched his departure, and you struggled to keep a straight face while trying to suppress your feelings. Marcus looked at you, examining your face. "Are you certain you're alright?" he asked, knowing you well enough to read your facial expressions correctly.
You smiled and nodded. "I am, really. But I thought you were in the barracks," you said, glancing at Octavius behind him.
"I was..." Marcus said then turned his gaze to Geta. "There is an urgent matter. I need to take you to Palatine Hill."
Geta narrowed his eyes. "Is it about that bastard cousin of mine?”
Marcus glanced at the children gathered around you, and the people looking at you with curious eyes. "I think you'd better see for yourself when you get there. Shall we?"
"I simply hope that one day will pass without incident! Just one!" Geta grumbled as he walked with the guards to the carriage.
Marcus smirked then he turned towards you. "I believe you would like to come with us, my lady."
It wasn't a question or a request, but the way he was acting made you curious.
"I'd like to come with you, General, if that's alright. It's been over a month since I paid my respects to my father anyway."
"As you wish, my princess.” He was usually a bit hesitant about you going there, but not today, apparently. He helped you onto the carriage and winked at you before walking over to his own horse and getting on.
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"General Acacius. Commander Darius. What is the meaning of this? Tell me what's happening here at once!”
You were as bewildered as Geta as you took in the scene before you on Palatine Hill. Nerissa, the slave girl you thought was dead, was alive—and she had a baby with her.
"Your cousin Elagabalus was holding this girl captive, Your Majesty," Darius explained. "My men found her and brought her here."
Geta's eyes widened in surprise. "Why would he do that?" he asked loudly.
You sat down next to Nerissa, who looked frightened. Embracing her, you felt her begin to cry. The baby was crying too; it seemed he had been born only a few weeks after your own. As a mother yourself, you could tell that the baby was hungry. “Why don’t you gentlemen talk outside?” 
All three of them looked at you and nodded, except Geta, who frowned instead of nodding.and then all left. The girl then explained to you everything that had happened to her while she was breastfeeding the baby. After Flavius and his men had attacked all the slaves and wounded her, the other guards, the ones under Macrinus captured her. And after Macrinus was executed, they cooperated with the men of Leptis Magna and handed her over to them. And she said that she was already close to labour when Elagabalus found her. Poor girl was so exhausted and weak that she thought she was going to lose the baby. Compared to your chubby Marcius, the baby looked thin, he was two weeks to pass his first month and you couldn't hide that you were a little worried about him. In fact, Nerissa was a noble Greek, not a slave, she had told you her story before. Maybe that's why she was kidnapped. If Macrinus cared about this girl there must be certain reason of her importance. Suddenly the baby started crying again, you checked her breast, she must be low on milk.
"Give him to me," you said, holding out your hands.
"But, my lady…”
"My breast milk is enough for both my Marcius and your baby," you said with a smile.
She returned your smile and placed her baby in your arms. Unlike your chubby Marcius, this baby had silky golden blonde hair on top of his head, just like his father. She thanked you and prayed for you as the baby suckled at your breast. Just as you were about to hand the baby back to her, Julia burst into the room.
“What do you think you're doing?”
You glared at her and handed the baby to her mother, who flinched in fright. You stood up and approached Julia, not liking the way she looked at the girl.
"You get the hell out of here right now and take the child with you!"
She sat up but you stopped her by raising your hand.
"Why would she? After all, she gave birth to a boy, it's Geta's."
"So? The child can't inherit the throne unless Geta weds her."
"I am aware. You must free the girl first, then wed them."
"She's a slave! How dare you think she's worthy of our emperor?"
'You know your son's interest in her. She's a concubina, not an ordinary slave."
"Yet she's not his wife! The Senate wouldn't accept the child as an heir since it wasn't born from legal marriage.”
“That is why I’m saying you must wed them. She’s a captive of war, forced into slavery. Her family is noble, isn't it, Nerissa?"
The girl nodded, looking at her hesitantly. "Yes, my Empress. If we were to send word to my family in Athens, I'm sure they would be able to send you an answer.”
Julia put her hands on her waist, thinking. "You dumb girl. Why didn't you tell me all this time?"
Her cheeks flushed and she bowed her head. "Because I loved Emperor Geta with all my heart. He didn't want me to tell anyone about it, not even his brother Emperor Caracalla."
"All those fights they had... It wasn't just to share your cunt huh?"
"Lady Domna!" You barked.
She approached her, ignoring your glare. "Even if I can convince the Senate, I can't convince Geta. He's really determined not to get married." She looked at you out of the corner of her eye.
"I'll talk to him." You said without looking at her. Then you turned and looked at Nerissa. "Don't concern yourself. No one can get you thrown out of this palace. I'll make sure your family is notified."
"I'll take care of that, you try to convince Geta if you can. But I wonder one thing Aurelia. What's in it for you? What's going on inside that beautiful head of yours I really wonder?’
"Don't confuse me with yourself, Lady Domna. Some favors are given without expecting anything in return.."
She laughed hysterically. "You may deceive others with your gentle and innocent face, but not me. Helping all those poor people and winning the love of the people with this way was a good move. I would never have thought of doing such a sneaky thing. Well done."
"You wouldn't understand even if I told you about it, so I won't tire myself out."
You turned your back on her, leaving the room.
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As you left Geta's chambers and walked towards the great hall, you noticed Octavius and the other Praetorians standing outside. You could hear Geta's loud voice coming from inside, so you went to talk to Octavius before entering. "I spoke with Decima," you said.
He looked up at you, a bit surprised.
"I will make sure to mention it to the general, so you can feel assured."
"Thank you, my lady. I really appreciate it. But if it's all right with you, I would like to speak with him myself first."
"Of course, Octavius," you replied with a warm smile.
He walked you to the door and the guards opened it for you.
Marcus and Darius looked at you. Geta however, his back was turned, resting his hands on the table. He then turned his head when he heard your footsteps.
"Commander Darius," you said, looking at him. "Would you please give us some privacy?"
"Yes, my lady," he replied, motioning for the other guards to step outside.
Geta poured himself a glass of wine and settled into the lectus behind the long golden-colored curtain.
Marcus grabbed your arm, "Perhaps it’s best if we don’t get involved."
You reassured him by touching his hand. "I just need to speak with him."
He let out a sigh, "I’ll be right here."
You smiled at him, then turned around and walked towards Geta. As you pushed the curtain aside with your hand, you noticed that he had already finished his glass. He turned it upside down and shook it. Quickly, you picked up the decanter from the table and poured more wine into his glass.
“He looks just like you, you know,” you said.
“Oh please!”
“What's the matter with you? Aren't you happy to see her again?”
“I'll die of happiness!” he replied sarcastically. You sat next to him. “You must marry her so the child can be your legal heir.”
He looked at you sternly, a look you had never seen before. “That's not how it works in Rome!”
“I know the truth about her,” you insisted.
“You know nothing, Aurelia!” he barked, then stood up angrily.
Marcus watched the two of you from a distance, clearly feeling nervous, but he waited patiently.
"We need to let her family know about all this. If you wed her quickly-"
"She does not have a family." He interjected emphatically, taking a moment to inhale deeply. "Caracalla had all of them executed."
"What did you just say?" you wailed.
Marcus stepped towards you as soon as he heard your loud voice. Still unable to believe what you had just heard, you didn’t notice him until he touched your back.
“It was before the revolt in Egypt. Her family came to Rome; they wanted to take her because she was the sister of their princess. That was one of the reasons the Greeks supported the revolt, Acacius.”
You looked at Marcus. It might sound a bit strange, but that rebellion actually brought you to him in a really unique way. After a moment of silence, you feel more determined to convince him.
“She must have had family left behind. You need to inform them about the situation. If you marry, it could be possible to establish peace between them and Rome, right? Additionally, if you appoint your son as your legal heir, you will regain their trust and take a step towards improving relations too.”
He folded his arms, “Marrying a Greek? I don’t think the Senate would approve of that.”
‘"Well, you must convince them, right?"
“I shall undertake that responsibility!" Julia's voice echoed through the great hall, filled with joy. "You must wed her, my son."
Geta looked at both you and Julia. "You two agree on that, huh? I’ll be damned." He then turned to Marcus. “What is your perspective, Acacius?”
"I am not a politician, Emperor Geta. However, it is undeniably advantageous for us that the Greeks refrain from participating in any future rebellions against Rome. So I agree with my wife, Lady Aurelia.”
You respected him; despite his modest denial of being a politician, he displayed considerable wisdom.
"I think I owe her that much," Geta murmured.
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"We must start preparing for the wedding right away," Julia said with a smile. "But first, I need to invite the wives of the senators and discuss everything with them. They might be upset with me about this." Suddenly, her expression changed as she looked at you. "Aurelia, perhaps they'll be more easily persuaded if you join me. They respect you."
"Being in the same room with those women again? Not for me, Lady Domna," you replied. Julia was about to protest, but Marcus's stern gaze seemed to silence her.
"Then we ask for your permission to take our leave," Marcus said.
Geta nodded. "You may leave."
Marcus extended his arm, and you accepted it as you both departed from the hall. As you made your way out of the courtyard toward his horse, Marcus leaned in, whispering; “Aurelia, what is your intention?”
You met his gaze and lightly touched his face. “I am seeking to protect our son.”
He looked confused as he tried to understand your meaning. You took his hand. “Let us return home to continue our discussion; I miss our son deeply.”
He responded with a smile, gently kissing your hand. “So do I.”
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“What you mentioned earlier...” Marcus said as he poured wine into his goblet. “I am curious about what you meant by protecting our son.” Marcius, seemed full, releasing your breast. He made the most beautiful sounds that filled the room with warmth and then drifted off to sleep peacefully.
“I meant to prevent him from being seen as the heir to the throne.” You stood up and gently put Marcius on the small mattress next to your bed. He seemed to fall into a peaceful sleep; at least, you hoped so. Marcus handed you one of the glasses and then moved over to watch him sleep. You took a sip from the glass and began to remove the fancy hairpins from your hair.
"You're afraid he might become emperor..." he said, covering him with the small blanket. "More than anything," you replied as you placed the hairpins into the box. "The weight of such responsibility is immense, Marcus. There will always be those who seek the throne and those who would want to harm him and manipulate him. How can I live with this fear? How can we live?" When you turned your head to look at him, you found him gazing back at you. He stood up and stepped toward you.
"I will be so relieved if Geta gets married as soon as possible," you said, yawning involuntarily. It had been a long and tiring day, first because of Hanno and then Geta.
Marcus's big hand reached behind you, grabbing your hair and sweeping it over your shoulder, leaving your neck exposed. Your tiredness instantly faded, replaced by something else entirely.
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"I can't disagree with that." You swallowed as his warm breath licked your neck. And you gasped as his lips found your jugular. You closed your eyes, surrendering yourself to the sanctity of his touch. He wrapped his arms around you, under your arms, and pressed himself against you. One hand slid down, under the fabric of your tunic, touching your folds. You moaned quietly as he stroked your clit with his thick fingers. "Are you ready to be mine, princess?" His tone was so seductive that you would be damned if you did refuse him.
"I am-mmph..."
Your delighted moan was muffled as he mashed his mouth against yours, aggressive and lustful. You shuddered and wrapped your arms around his neck without missing a beat, mewling submissively even as his hands left your clit and moved to your hips instead, grabbing them firmly and sending jolts of excitement up your stomach. He then lifted you up making you laugh unashamedly as his hands squeezing your butt-cheeks beneath fabric even as your lips stayed connected. His tongue prodded your lips and you parted them instantly, letting out a horny whine as it invaded your mouth and dominated yours with embarrassing ease. As if to comply with that he held your ass more firmly, that being the only warning you got before he roughly laid you down on the bed. The little one's cooing made you break the kiss. But when you looked at him he seemed happy in his sleep. You whispered to him as Marcus' impatient fingers quickly grasped the hem of your tunic. “I love this tunic of mine, so please be gentle.”
“With your tunic maybe, but not with you.” He said grinning, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine. He leaned down, his lips grazed down your collarbone, breath hot against it, and a moan rolled off of your tongue as he kissed the top of your breast and then sucked upon it harshly. You found yourself afraid that might be hurt but it didn’t.
The thought was purged from your mind though as he swiftly snatching your other nipple up in his mouth. You gasped, your hand ending up in his curly hair and tugging it; utterly melting as you felt his tongue swirl around repeatedly before he gave it a wet-sounding suck, tugging it out until your nipple sprung from his lips and left your breast jiggling a little. His face placed between your breasts a mere second later, growling lustfully as he rubs them and tickled you with his hot breaths. He didn't stay there for long. Planting another few quick kisses upon your flesh then with a rush of eagerness, he undressed himself, his movements fast, impatient. Simply making you aroused more.
Just like he said before, he wasn't gentle when he grabbed you by the hips and pulled you towards him. He had just placed your legs over his shoulders when a soft cooing stopped him. You both looked at each other, remembering that there were three of you in the room now.
“How about we skip this part for now?”
Marcus smiled and kissed your knee. “I'll make it up to you, I promise.”
He leaned down and kissed you; it was passionate, tender, eager, and even a little rushed.
But then, however, there was his erection resting against your stomach, precum dripping onto your flesh. You ran one hand through the precum and along the length. He gasped at the touch, pulling away from the kiss. You met his eyes as you brought him to your entrance. He grinned, baring his teeth.
“Eager I see,” he said in a heated whisper.
With a playful grin, you pressed your finger to his lips and whispered, "Acta non verba, my love.”
Then, with a seductive lean back and spreading your legs, invited him in. He had his need pushed against your clit, along the sensitive skin, through your wetness. You cooed, writhing for him to feel inside you. He gave you one more kiss before shifting slightly to grab the backs of your knees and spread your legs wider than you had them. He pulled out a few inches and pushes back in, easing you into his thrusts before he starts picking up and every time he thrust into you, stretching you, made you crave more and more. Sweat dripping down your brow as he thrust deeper, lifting you by your knees and bending your legs towards your torso. In this position where you couldn’t move very much, he took control, finding sweetest spot with his aching need. You couldn’t stop moaning and mewling, crying out his name as he goes faster.
When your moans became louder, his big hand covered your mouth, silencing you. "Sssh, you'll wake him up, love," he whispered, finding your ear through your hair. "And I don't want our fun to end just yet." You nodded and continued to moan into his palm. He kept covering your mouth with his hand as he carried on thrusting, each one deeper than the last. He was sweating from his brow and the sweat was dripping onto your chest. He wiped the sweat with the back of his hand and pushed his hair back, but it was no avail; it swayed downwards as he leaned down to give you a messy kiss.Then you two drew back, inhaled a breath, and reconnected. Eventually he removed his hand from your mouth, he just wanted to bring you both to the climax, he didn't care about anything else at this point. Effortlessly, he threw your legs over his shoulders and leans forward, bracing his hands on either side of your shoulders and taking you just right. He then reached around to get his fingers on your clit, rubbing relentlessly.
“Marcus” you cried, “Marcus please—”
You can barely heard him over the wet-sound of slamming against your body. “That’s right, my love. Say my name. Come for me.”
All the stimulation gets to you and you obey. You gush on his length to the point where he has to pull out and watch as you make a complete mess of the bed. The rest of your body trembling, hips thrusting on their own, and fingers clawing at sheets. You scream at this point and he has to cover your mouth again, but this time not with his hand, but with his mouth. You moan and whimper into his mouth, hoping that you have not woken the little one up.
"Look at that," he groaned, rubbing your throbbing cunt and you clenched. "Well done, my princess. You’re a good girl.”
Desperate for his need and his orgasm, you pressed your heels against his back. "Inside. Inside me, Marcus, please."
Saying your name, he suddenly plunged back in. You responded with another scream, arching your back and taking every hard thrust. His breath faltered and his moans grew louder. And... You'd just had a second orgasm, but if he kept it up, you'd have a third.
“Wish me to fill this beautiful cunt of yours up…hmm?”
“Yes,” you said between his thrusts, “Yes, my love, fill me in, Gods!”
“I will gladly grant your wish…” He snarled.
Marcus' at his loudest when he came inside you, giving you everything you want and more. As he pushed himself into you, you come again. This time there is no concern or intention to be careful not to make a loud noise. You tightened around him with every thrust, moaning with him and accepting the messy kiss he giving you. It was hard to kiss back when your breath is stolen, when every emotion hits all your nerves and you can’t think straight. He didn’t move once he gives you his last drop. A moment passes where the two of you simply catch your breath. And eventually, as a result of all this noise, the final expected happened and little Marcius began to cry.
You both looked at him, panting, and then back at each other, grinning triumphantly and mischiveously. When you feel the soreness hit, you wiggled your legs and Marcus got the hint. He carefully placed your legs back on the bed. You whimpered as he pulled out, and you could feel the mix of fluid drip out of your cunt. When Marcius started crying louder, you tried to sat up, but your most sensitive parts were throbbing a bit and your legs felt numb.
“Marcus, will you give him to me? I can’t feel my legs.”
He kissed your cheek. “Forgive me. Couldn’t help myself.”
You smiled. “Couldn’t help myself, either.”
He gave you a kiss before getting out of bed and you leaned against the headboard while you watched him tenderly take Marcius in his arms and kiss his head, caressing his little nose with his own. It was something you never got tired of watching, it was so sacred, so beautiful. Before Marcus placed him in your arms, he put a pillow behind your back and kissed the top of your head as you smiled up at him. He was rough when he made love to you, but he always blew your mind with his incredible gentleness and tenderness afterwards.
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After having breakfast together in the room, you and Marcus visited the stables. You had become quite skilled at grooming lately, and it was incredibly peaceful. However, there was another reason for your visit. While you were absent-mindedly combing Unio's mane, thinking about what Hanno had said. You were having second thoughts about going to the place he mentioned. Would he have to escape again to get there? How had he ended up in Rome? How did he become a gladiator? You were startled by Marcus' touch on your waist. Unio let out a neigh as you accidentally tugged on her mane. To soothe her, you gently touched her nose and gave her a kiss.
"I see you really enjoy that, my lady," Marcus said with a warm smile.
You returned his smile. "I do. It has such a calming effect." You tapped the brush to remove the hair from its bristles.
Marcus let out a light sigh. "Well, I must admit that what I'm about to ask you to do might not be as calming." You raised your eyebrows in curiosity and narrowed your eyes when you spotted the wooden sword in his hand. "But this... it's made of wood..."
"I wouldn't hand you a sharp sword for your first lesson," he said firmly.
You placed the brush in the basket and picked up the sword, clutched it with both hands, examining. It was heavier than it looked. "It feels a bit like a toy," you murmured.
He touched yours with his wooden sword. "Rule number one: Whatever weapon you wield, you must forge an unbreakable bond with it; treat it as part of your arm.”
Your caring husband, Marcus, had quickly transformed into your stern General, Acacius.
"Yes, General," you muttered.
He smirked. "If you master this, you can begin using a real steel sword.” he encouraged you. "Remember, finding balance is essential in your early lessons."
"Balance?"
He nodded. "It's like dancing—using the right steps. Come with me; I'll show you what I mean." He took your hand and led you out of the stables, where he had taught you how to use a knife.
"Aren't you supposed to be on duty today?" you asked.
"I am, but I have time before I take my leave. Come."
When you reached the wide open space, Marcus took the wooden sword from your hand and stood in front of you.
"First, you must improve your agility. Catch it, princess!"
He tossed one of the swords towards you, but you weren't able to catch it, so it fell to the ground. “Whoa!” You bent down to pick it up. “Why did you... "It's not as if I'm planning to attack my enemy by throwing it."
He narrowed his eyes. “I see you’re feeling confident. Alright, what are you going to do with it? How will you use it? Tell me.”
"I should just stick the pointy end into my enemy, right?"
He grinned smugly. “Do you really think it’s that simple, my lady?”
You shrugged. “It shouldn’t be too difficult.”
He opened his arms. “Very well then, strike me.”
With both hands, you gripped the sword tightly. Suddenly, you realized it wasn't as easy as you had thought, but you were determined not to embarrass yourself in front of him. Marcus struggled to hold back his laughter at the expression on your face. Ignoring him, you raised the sword and lunged toward him. As you initiated your attack, he effortlessly pushed your sword away with a flick of his hand, barely moving his arm. You staggered backward, nearly dropping the sword.
"It’s not as easy as it seems, is it? That’s why I’m telling you to focus on your balance first. In time, you’ll understand what I mean, and when I throw it to you, it will be much easier to catch. Now, think of it as a real sword and show me how you hold it. Try again." This seemed simple, but it quickly became clear from the look on his face that I was doing something wrong. “Now you are standing wrong. Turn your body side-face, yes.”
He came over and put one hand on your waist and the other under your chin. "Just, so, yes." Then he looked at your feet. "Spread your legs."
"I can do that," you said, grinning widely, thinking about things you did in your bedroom, like how he spreads your legs in there.
Be ready to be mine...
He kissed your cheeks, where they had blushed, and your naughty thoughts were replaced by a desire.
"Focus, princess."
"Apologies. I was thinking about something..." You batted your eyelashes.
He brought his face closer to yours. "Are you trying to get away from your training by seducing me, hm?"
"Maybe I am." You giggled.
"Well, you succeeded."
He leaned in and kissed you on the lips.You let go of the sword and put your arms around his neck, and the moment you touched his hair, the inevitable thing happened again – he lost it!  He wrapped his arms around your waist, deepening the kiss. You let his tongue enter your mouth, and everything else in the place and the reason you were there flew away, there was only him and your warm breath through your nostrils, caressing each other's cheeks. Your hearts were beating rapidly with excitement. When you heard footsteps approaching, your lips suddenly stopped moving, breaking the kiss. Pulling himself back with some difficulty, he smiled at you, licked his lips, then turned his head in that direction.But you didn't, instead, you ran your eyes over his side view, admiring his gorgeous face.
"General!"It was Cato's voice.You pulled your hands away, but Marcus' hands were still around your waist.
"Cato, is something wrong?”
"I've been informed the Council is meeting today, sir. And Emperor Geta said he'd like to see you there during the session." Then he looked at you. "You too, my lady."
You frowned.
"Thank you Cato, get the carriage ready then."
"There's no need," you said firmly. "I’d better not attend."
Marcus lifted his eyebrows. "Do you have other plans, my lady?"
You looked away. "It’s an official council meeting. I don’t think there’s any need to disturb the Senate members with the presence of a woman. Besides, I planned to visit my cousin Paulina today."
For some reason, your tone sounded so convincing that it even surprised you.
"Is that so? You didn't mention that," Marcus said.
"I was going to..." you lied, feeling a wave of self-hatred wash over you.
Marcus's eyes weren't skeptical as they roamed over your face. "Well, I think it's better that you're there than at the council."
"I agree. Come, let me help you dress appropriately," you replied, grabbing his arm. He smiled, allowing you to pull him inside.
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After Marcus left the villa with Cato, you made your decision to meet Hanno. You nursed Marcius and handed him over to Norell, then went up to your chambers to get dressed. It was almost noon by this time. Everyone in the villa believed you were going to visit your cousin, including Decima, who accompanied you in the carriage. However, when the carriage was halfway to its destination, you ordered the driver to take you through the streets of Rome instead. You put on your cloak, ignoring Decima, who looked at you in astonishment.
“I thought we were going to your aunt Antonia’s house?” 
“No, we’re not.” 
She opened her eyes wide. “Are we going to stalk the general again?” 
You glared at her. “No, of course not.” 
“Then where are we going?” 
You tied the laces of your cloak and replied, “Decima, trust me and don’t ask questions. I promise I’ll tell you everything later. Stop the carriage!” 
The coachman obeyed your command and halted the carriage on the east side of the Colosseum. The gladiator school was on its left, and the popina was at the corner of the street. 
“There are no houses or shops here,” she muttered. 
“I know,” you said, pulling the hood over your face and stepping out of the carriage. Decima stood up as well, but you stopped her. 
“I’ll go alone.” 
“But Aurelia—” 
“Don’t worry, I’ll be safe. I won’t be long, and Decima, this is between us, alright?”
She nodded. “Fine, but please be careful.”
“I will be,” you replied with a smile and began walking into the crowd. You weren’t wearing much jewelry; the last thing you wanted was for someone to realize you were their princess.
The street was less crowded than you had expected. Many people were discussing today’s council meeting and moving at a brisk pace toward the Roman Forum. Perhaps most people had gathered there, which would work to your advantage. When a group of passersby glanced your way, you quickly turned your head.
“Did you hear that General Acacius is attending too?” one person said.
“Yes, I wonder if the princess will be there,” another replied.
“We’re going there to see her anyway,” one continued.
“I think she will definitely attend,” another added.
“I’ll finally get to see her up close,” someone else said.
You smiled to yourself. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled quietly.
After passing through a few more people, you looked around. You were now passing the gladiator school, and you shuddered as you remembered how you had last been imprisoned there. Then you thought of Hanno—how did he end up here? It was just one of a thousand questions you wanted to ask him. You quickened your pace, and when you saw the popina’s signboard, your heart began to race with anxiety.
The harmonious music, accompanied by the sounds of laughter and conversation from within, extended into the street, fostering an inviting atmosphere but not for everyone, apparently.
Please don't let anyone recognize me. Please don't let anyone recognize me.
You pushed open the double-leaf door. The people standing nearby turned their heads to see who was coming in, but they couldn't see your face and soon returned to their chat. One person glanced at you with curiosity but quickly looked away. Suddenly, the music stopped, and you froze, but it had nothing to do with your entrance—it was just a coincidence.
Soon, the music began again. You took a deep breath of relief and moved forward, scanning the tables one by one. You noticed a man in a black cloak sitting alone in the corner. You moved there and tilted your head to see his face, but first, you glanced around to ensure no one else was sitting alone. It must have been him. You leaned toward him and whispered, “Hanno?"
You were so startled when the man looked up at you that you jumped back. A bulky man with numerous scars on his face scrutinized you and then raised his eyebrows with a low curse. “Am I high already?” he asked himself.
“Oh, forgive me. I thought you were someone else,” you stammered.
He grinned widely, showing all his teeth. “I’ll be whoever you want me to be, beautiful.”
Just as you were about to turn away, his large hand grabbed your wrist. “Come on, sit down and have a drink with me—just one drink.” He pulled you toward the chair.
Was he drunk? At this time of day?
You struggled to free your arm, but you couldn’t even budge it. “Let go of my arm!”
“Come now, don’t be stubborn. A beauty like you doesn’t come along every day.”
“Look, I’m a married woman, and you wouldn’t even want to know who my husband is.”
He frowned.
“Let her go!”
You turned your head in the direction of the familiar voice. Hanno had pushed the man's arm away. “Damn it, Aldhard, didn’t I tell you not to drink after the opium?”
You crossed your arms. “So you two know each other?”
Hanno rolled his eyes. “Don’t ask.”
The man stood up and looked at both of you. “You little shit. You never told me you had such a beautiful friend. So that’s why you’re always running away, huh?”
“Go back and get some rest. You can’t go out in the arena tomorrow like this.”
The man huffed as he turned to walk away. “That’s why I’m drinking, you bastard.” He left, muttering curses in his native language that you had never heard before.
Hanno turned to you. “Forgive me for being late. But it’s hard to get out of there.”
You sat down in a chair and exhaled deeply. “Hanno, it’s strange to see you here after all this time. Especially as a gladiator.”
He settled into the chair where his friend had just been sitting. “It’s quite the story,” he said, raising his arm to catch the keeper’s attention. “I’m surprised you came, you know.”
“It wasn’t easy,” you replied.
“I guess you came secretly from your husband.” He smiled crookedly.
“I came secretly from everyone. You know why.”
"Yes, I was quite surprised to hear that. I can't believe you're a princess. I always knew you were special, but..."
A little later, a young man brought you a jug of wine and two glasses, along with a platter of chicken for two.
"The chicken here is really good. Come on, eat,” he said, spooning some onto his plate, opening his mouth wide, and starting to eat with appetite.
You reminisced about the meals you had shared together in the tavern back in Egypt.
“Forget about me and tell me about yourself,” you said as you dipped your spoon into the food. “How did you get to Rome? How did you become a gladiator, and where have you been all this time?” You brought the spoon to your mouth, not because you were hungry, but because the smell was enticing, and you wanted to taste it.
He didn’t look at you and continued to eat. “I was brought here by your husband.”
You nearly choked on your morsel, coughed, and sipped your wine. “What did you say?”
“As a prisoner of war.”
“Or did you fight alongside the Persian army against Rome?” Your voice was louder than you intended, causing nearby people to turn their heads. Hanno glared at them, and they quickly looked away.
“Hanno, what happened? Tell me everything.”
His blue eyes clouded, and his expression hardened. “Alright. That night…” He took a deep breath. “I mean, the night the rebels raided the Roman military camp. By the time I got there, they had taken all the Medici from the Valetudinarium.”
“Oh, right. Where were you that night?”
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“I heard one of my friends was injured during the revolt, so I decided to go help him. When I entered the room to tell him I was leaving, Vicius mentioned that you were asleep. That turned out to be the last time I saw both you and him." He took a sip of his drink, looking gloomy. "The next day, Vicius' body was brought to the Valetudinarium along with the other Medicii. I personally took care of his funeral, all of his friends were deeply saddened. However, what was even more haunting was what they said. They claimed they saw you among the prisoners. They had killed him, and not only that, but they had also taken you as a prisoner. I was so angry that I ran to the harbor, but I couldn't catch up. The Roman ships had already sailed out to sea, just about to disappear over the horizon."
Your eyes filled with tears as you recalled that night.
"I apologize for not coming here sooner. My mother was sick, and I was occupied with her treatment, but I couldn’t save her. There were also many other patients to care for. Vicious was a skilled medicus; he was irreplaceable."
“Hanno, I'm sorry.”
“Aya, or Aurelia,” he said with a sad grin. “Why did you marry him? How did it happen?”
“Hanno, look…”
He interrupted, “After what happened to Vicius, all I could think about was coming here, finding you, and running away with you. I was certain you would be sold into slavery, and I couldn't sleep at night knowing you might be living a terrible life.”
“I wasn’t, actually. I love him, Hanno. He’s my life now. "We were planning to come here with Vicius, and now you know the specific reason why.”
“So, it turns out you and Vicius had a secret, huh?” He laughed. “All that time you were hiding in the Valetudinarium, trying hard to pass as a man, never going out in public, and his overprotectiveness toward you… I mean, it was obvious there was a reason, but I never expected you to be a Roman princess. I don't know what to say.”
“I found out when I came here, but how did you know I was married to the general?”
“Last week, I saw the two of you at the temple. People are always talking about you two. That day, they made us put on a little fighting demonstration at the Roman Forum. Honestly, I had a hard time recognizing you at first; you looked quite different from before.”
“I’m still the same person.”
“I doubt that.”
“What do you mean?”
“You're different; you've changed. Maybe your experiences have altered you, just like they have for me.”
“Why did you fight with the Roman army? You're not a soldier.”
“They needed a medicus and promised high payment. And you think I can't fight or something? Have you forgotten how many times I saved you from those filthy rats? They kept saying you were a scrawny young man and forced you to fight with them. Don’t you remember how I beat them up, girl?”
You laughed. “Yes, I remember.”
“Fighting against Roman soldiers seemed tempting to me. They said the rebels had joined forces with a small army in Syria organized by a Roman consul.”
“Macrinus?”
“No idea. I've never met him.”
“You can't. He's dead.”
“I bet your husband killed him, great Roman general.” He said mockingly.
You frowned and said, “Please don't talk about him like that. He's the bravest, most honorable man I know, and he's not as bad as you think. He’s also kind and understanding.”
“How touching. He wasn’t so innocent when he slaughtered hundreds on the battlefield, you know. He was like a beast.”
“It’s called war. What did you expect him to do? That’s what you did too—you fought and killed people, didn’t you? Besides, Vicius was killed by one of his soldiers, and he avenged him by killing that soldier in return.”
“But he took you prisoner—made you a slave.”
“He didn’t know who I was.”
Suddenly, he was distracted by the loud laughter of the women at the next table. You both turned your heads to look in that direction. Hanno reached towards you and pulled your hood more in front of your face.
“Don’t stare at them; we’ll get in trouble if they recognize you. And the ones sitting right behind us? They’re Spaniards. Believe me, they hate the Romans as much as I do. So whatever you do, don’t attract their attention.”
You didn't even want to ask why, but it was clear that the men and women were romantically involved, and the Spaniards seemed to be quite fierce characters. Suddenly, you realized that coming here might not have been such a good idea.
“Hanno, who bought you? If I talk to your master, maybe I can persuade him to set you free.”
He laughed. “I’m not a Roman, but I know that’s not how it works here. Tomorrow, I must fight in the Colosseum and win. That will bring me one step closer to my freedom.”
Your chest suddenly tightened. “But the Colosseum is too dangerous.”
“Are you worried about me?” he grinned. “Don’t be. I can take care of myself.”
“I’ll talk to my brother. I don’t know; there must be a way.”
He laughed hysterically. “Your brother? You mean the emperor? It’s not like he’s going to care about me. I don’t suppose you’ve heard the rumors about him.”
“He’s changed. He’s an emperor who cares about his people now.”
“Is he now?”
“Tell me his name. Who bought you?”
“Aya,” he growled.
“Tell me.”
“What will your husband say if you buy me?”
That was the real question. You sighed nervously.
“That’s what I thought.”
He raised his glass to his lips and drank it all.
Then he looked back over your shoulder. “Shit.”
“What the—”
“When I say so, we’ll run outside together, alright?”
“What? Why?”
“They realized I escaped. Again.”
"But why am I running? You're the one they're looking for." 
"It's him! Stop right there!" 
You stood up and looked over. It was the same guys from last time; they knew who you were. You tensed and took a step back, but suddenly you realized someone was touching you on your hips. In a fit of rage, you turned around and hurled his drink in his face.
"Do you think I'm a whore, you filthy bastard?" 
As the man angrily wiped the wine from his face, you immediately regretted what you had done. When he stood up, the others did too. “Jódete, maldita perra (Fuck you, stupid whore)!”
“Watch your mouth, cabrón!” Hano yelled.
Your eyes and mouth widened when the men drew their swords, and you instinctively hid behind Hanno.
"I suppose you have a reason to run now," Hanno whispered to you.
One of the men who had come to take Hanno held up a hand to stop them.
"Return to your table now," he ordered.
“Do not tell me what to do, maricón!”
“What did you say?” He drew his sword.
“He said arsehole to you,” Hanno translated with a grin.
“Damn Spinards, I shall cut your tongue!”
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Hanno seized the opportunity amidst the chaos and pushed him onto the other man, causing both of them to collapse to the floor. The impact knocked over a table, spilling drinks and food everywhere and creating quite a mess. Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted dramatically, and everyone began to fight with one another. Hanno grabbed your arm and shouted, “Time to run!" He pulled you along as you both fled the scene.
When you got out into the street, you kept running faster, because the other men kept running after you.
“So you can speak spanish!” you shouted as you ran alongside him, your eyes scanning for the carriage.
“Only swear words!” he replied.
“Ugh! I hate you!”
“I’m not the one who spilled his drink all over his face!”
“You're the one swearing at them!”
The guys chasing after you were shouting something in spanish, and it was not hard to guess what they were saying.
“Aren’t you a gladiator? Can’t you fight them off?”
He laughed nervously. “I don’t think you realize how many there are.”
You looked back, and your eyes widened when you saw at least ten people.
“Where the hell did they come from?”
“I warned you about Spaniards! They are overprotective!”
“The carriage is just over there!” You said, pointing east of the Colosseum. “If we can get there-“
“No, not the carriage! They'll catch us before we get on!”
“What are we going to do?”
“I know a safe place; if I hide you there, I can escape them myself.”
When you looked back, they were still running insistently. Desperately, you searched for the carriage, realizing you had no choice but to follow Hanno. Fortunately, you soon reached the place he had mentioned. It was the barn of a house.
“The owner is old and deaf; he doesn’t come to the barn much,” Hanno said as he removed hay bales one by one to create a hiding spot for you. “Come, you’ll be safe here.”
“But for how long? What will you do?”
“I'm going to make them follow me down the road and I'm going to grab a sword from one of them and fight them. After I get them away from here, you run to your carriage, alright?”
You nodded. “Be careful.”
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He smiled and looked back as the voices drew closer. "Hide well," he said before leaving the barn. You could hear his footsteps followed by those of his pursuers. You waited patiently until all the sounds faded away. Soon, the only noise was the gentle bleating of the lambs.
Standing up, you began to push the hay bales aside one by one. The smell was almost unbearable; if you were pregnant like before, you would have been violently sick. You brushed the straw out of your hair with your hands. Your legs ached from running, but you knew you had to reach the carriage no matter what.
You slowly stepped into the courtyard of the house, observing your surroundings. Fortunately, no one was in sight, except for the chickens, which, frightened by your presence, scattered away. The street was quiet, with just a few people who looked at you with curiosity, but you were too exhausted to care. After walking a bit further, you realized that you were very close to the street where the carriage was located, so you picked up your pace and walked there with relief.
Decima asked you questions along the way that you struggled to answer, and you responded as simply as possible. However, your real fear was what you would face when you got home—your clothes and everything else were a complete mess. You needed to get home before Marcus arrived. You couldn't help but worry about Hanno. Would he be able to fight those guys off? Would he be able to save himself? You had known him well since childhood, and you shared many memories together that were impossible to forget. No one could have predicted that things would turn out this way; it felt like a cruel twist of fate.
When you arrived at the villa, it was already evening. You and Decima got out of the carriage and walked into the courtyard. As soon as you stepped inside, you froze. Marcus was standing in the center, still wearing his formal white toga. He struggled to drape the shawl over his shoulder, as he didn't often wear this type of toga. However, the stern and confused expression on his face wasn't due to this difficulty; it was because he saw you with your clothes in disarray.
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"Leave us alone," he said sharply, his gaze fixed on you. There was no one else around; he had directed that command at Decima. You bit your lip as she left the courtyard, leaving the two of you alone. He stepped towards you, inspecting you from head to toe so quietly that you wondered if he was trying to suppress his anger. Finally, he exhaled a deep, ragged breath, his dark brown eyes boring into yours.
"Where have you been?" he asked in a deep, almost growling voice. "I need an explanation right now."
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amyispxnk · 2 days ago
Text
Silent Night
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Summary - You're back from college for the holidays, and you've decided on exactly what you want for Christmas - Joel Miller's cock.
A/N: this was such a last minute fic im ngl rn. wasn't even planning on posting a Christmas fic, let alone my FIRST dbf joel miller smut?? anyway, i hope everyone enjoys. happy Christmas<3
Pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader
Word count: 3k
Warnings: smut, some good ole daddy kink, age gap (20+ years), Joel is pretty pervy in this, alcohol, divorce mentions. Not proofread because I'm tired
DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.
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When you left for college all that time ago, Joel didn't have any strong feelings towards you. You were his best friend's kid, so naturally he saw you often, and got close with you. You were a sweet kid, kind, smart (more than him, he reckoned), and very.. determined when you wanted to be.
Now you're back for Christmas, and as he sees you exiting your dad's car, hurrying over to him, yelling “Joel! Joel! Oh, I missed you so much!” he realises how fucked up his mind might be.
Any normal guy who was reuniting with a girl he'd known since she was a teenager, and a girl he had at least 20 years on, would not be looking at how her tits bounced in her crop top, or how her leggings were tight enough to let him see just how perfect your ass was.
But Joel wasn't normal, he wasn't a good man, so he was looking for all of those things. If he'd actually been looking at your face, maybe he'd have seen you smirking. Maybe he'd have realised you wore those clothes for exactly this reason.
-
Joel, or dad's best buddy, Mr Miller, as you'd known him until you were 16 and couldn't be bothered to pay respect to your elders, had been a part of your life for a while.
Ever since your mom took off, Joel was coming around far more often and, in his own gruff and quiet way, was taking care of you more than your own father was at the time.
Nowadays, you didn't really have any resentment towards your father because of this - he'd just gotten divorced, he was going through a rough time.
But teenage you definitely did, and having Joel step in like that definitely left you with mixed feelings.
If things weren't the way they were back then, you'd probably have developed this all-encompassing crush on him even earlier.
When you were leaving for college though, the crush suddenly dived into your life, crashing down and muddling up everything you thought you knew about yourself.
Now, as you returned back home at last, you knew you had to have him, or you feared you might just lose it.
He was everything a girl.. like you, could want right now. Old, brooding, mysterious, and so fucking hot.
So as you hopped over to him where he stood in his front lawn, you made sure to hug him tight and make sure he could really feel that you weren't wearing a bra. You knew he was looking already, so why not let him feel it?
He hesitated for a moment - probably struggling with his boner which you swore you could already feel - before bringing his arms around you and clapping you on the back.
“I missed you so much, Mr Miller.” You hum sweetly, looking up at him through your eyelashes. His own eyes almost flutter shut at the name you chose to use for him, and he manages to choke out a soft missed ya too, darlin’.
That darlin’ would be enough to make you come tonight.
Your dad finally turns around after unloading your luggage and turning the car off, greeting Joel before the two of you head to your house.
-
The next day, it's Christmas Eve. Dinner rolls around, and you check over your makeup one more time. You don't want it to be too much - it would look weird, considering it was only Joel coming over (your dad was a solitary creature) - but you still had to look good for him.
The doorbell rings and you almost trip down the stairs. “I'll get it, dad!” You yell, and he thanks you, completely unaware of your motives.
You open the door, biting back a smirk when Joel immediately looks you up and down, only just managing to tear his eyes away from your chest.
“Hi, Mr Miller. It's so good to see you.” You smile sweetly.
“Hi, sweetheart… told ya y’dont have ta call me that. Joel's fine.” He says softly, eyes still a little hazy.
You step back to let him inside and immediately take one of the beers he'd brought over once he sets the case down.
“Y’old enough to drink that, honey?” He teases, mind finally out of the gutter for now.
“I'm 21 in like.. a month. It's fineeee.” You smirk, tipping your head back and taking a big swig, showing off the long column of your neck and the swell of your breasts.
His mind is back in the gutter.
Your eyes are off him for now, so he allows him to drink in the sight of you properly. A silly Christmas hat atop your curled, gorgeous hair; red sweater tight around your breasts, little candy-canes dotted around it; your skirt, far too short and he's almost certain you're teasing him now, tights underneath making him want to rip them clean off of you. Your makeup looks perfect, red lips which he knows would look perfect around his cock, mascara which he can picture smudged and ruined from tears and sweat while you fuck-
“Joel, y’made it! Cmon, sit with me.” Your dad grins, and Joel's eyes widen. What the fuck is wrong with him? He cannot be thinking that way about you.
He shakes his head, muttering something to himself before going to sit with your dad.
-
Joel finally thinks he'll have some reprieve from your incessant teasing, letting out a tired sigh as he sits on the couch, your dad on the armchair.
“Tired already, old man?” Your dad teases.
“You're older than me, asshole.” Joel grunts, earning him a chuckle.
Just then, you appear in the doorway. Of course, of-fucking-course, you'd decide to watch TV with them tonight. It's soccer, for Christ's sake, you'd always get bored out of your mind and run upstairs to go on your phone whenever the game was on.
Not today though, much to Joel's dismay.
“What're you watching?” You ask, sitting beside Joel. He tries to mask his discomfort.
“Just soccer hon, I know you don't like-” your dad starts, but you quickly cut him off.
“No, no! It's fine. I'll try watching it tonight.” You smile softly, and settle in to watch.
You clearly get bored after about 5 minutes, sighing softly.
“You really find this interesting?” You murmur to Joel, now having made yourself comfortable on his shoulder. He tried to make himself as stiff as possible when you first lay on him, but you were persistent as always, and he just gave in.
“Ain't nobody forcin’ you to watch it.” He argues, and you keep quiet after that, eventually getting up to go get the food ready.
-
Dinner is yet another trial for Joel. You've gotten just as frustrated and impatient as he is, it seems.
Leaning in front of him when serving the food, giving him a clear view of your tits. Not to mention you never serve food, set the table, but all of a sudden you're acting like little miss helpful today.
‘Accidentally’ dropping a cup and bending over in his eyeshot to pick it up.
Sitting beside him at the table instead of with your dad.
When your hand moves to his thigh, he bolts upright, earning him a look from your dad.
“Bathroom,” is all he can get out before he's rushing upstairs.
“Fucking kid. Thinks she can fuckin’.. pull all this shit with me.. thinks she can act like this in front of her dad.. fuck me.” He mutters to himself, despite undoing his belt and pulling his cock out, barely stifling his groan when he spits on his palm and starts tugging at his length so fast it's almost painful.
His mind conjures up all sorts of unholy images, and he's on the brink of release when- “Mr Miller,” you coo, knocking on the door. “is everything okay? You've been gone for like 10 minutes. Was it something in the food?”
He's so angry, so pent-up, he wants to pull you in here and just fuck that goddamn attitude out of you.
He's deathly silent, flushing, turning on the sink as he pulls his pants up, blue-balled like he'd never been before, and exiting the bathroom.
“Everything is fine.” He grits out, fists clenched as he walks past you. You eye his bulge and smirk before practically skipping down the stairs.
“He said everything's fine, daddy.” You smile to your dad, and he almost collapses. He swears he sees god for a second.
That word coming out of your mouth should absolutely not turn him on like it just did - but it did.
The rest of dinner, he's almost silent, just gulping down beer and chewing on his now cold turkey. You don't try anything with him, actually a little afraid he might just get up and leave.
Instead, you wait until the movie.
Your dad puts Die Hard on, and after a lengthy argument about whether or not it even counts as a Christmas movie, - you insist it's not and will carry that with you to the grave - you settle beside Joel.
Joel thinks he's made it through the worst of the evening, but then you shiver. You shiver again, and then you pout, and he feels obliged to ask.
“Are you cold?”
“Yeah.. can I have some of the blanket?” You whisper. Your dad is practically falling asleep in the armchair.
He goes to hand you the blanket, and you, devious as ever, put it over both of your laps, cuddling up to Joel even more.
He's on full alert right now, stiff as a log, waiting for your next game.
The movie goes on, and then your hand creeps under the sheet. Moving from the side, to your own lap, to his arm, then to his leg-
“What're you-” he grunts, but you just shush him.
“I'm trying to watch the movie, Joel.” You huff, as if your hand isn't on his cock right now.
His eyes are darting between you, the screen, his lap under the blanket, and your dad. Way too much is going on, and as you start palming him, he lets out the most pained groan. He sees you biting your lip and he's so angry, so horny, he doesn't know what to do with himself.
Your dad suddenly wakes up, and the bubble pops. You pretend you're asleep on Joel's shoulder, and you know you've won when Joel tells your dad to just go on up, that he'll make sure she gets to bed.
As soon as your dad's bedroom door shuts, Joel grabs your jaw, glaring at you.
“Exactly what the fuck do you think you're doing, little girl?” He spits, and you giggle softly.
“‘m not doing anyth- ow, Joel!” You whimper when he squeezes your cheeks together.
“You gonna tell the truth now? Gonna answer me properly?” He says, tone and eyes cold as the ice on your driveway.
You nod, trying to stifle your whimper. He eases the grip on your jaw, still holding it, before asking you again.
“What do you think you're doing?” He says through clenched teeth, and you know he's not fucking around anymore.
“I.. I just..” Fuck it, you may as well shoot your shot, otherwise what was the point of everything tonight anyway?
“I wanted you to fuck me, Joel.”
Creak goes the step at the top of your staircase, and you squeak, jumping off the couch as Joel pulls the blanket and a pillow over his lap. You rush upstairs past your dad, hurriedly bidding him goodnight before slamming your door.
“Just came to grab my phone. Everythin' alright..?” He asks, brows furrowed at your skittish behaviour.
Joel nods, and your dad leaves him alone.
His cock has been throbbing for hours. So long that it's actually painful. But now he can't do anything. You and your dad are upstairs, you'll be asleep in 5 minutes, and Joel will just have to pretend it's your pussy wrapped around his length when he fucks his fist in the guest bedroom tonight.
-
Guilt gnaws away at him as he cleans his come off of his hand and stomach, tossing the tissues into the bin before changing into some sweats and managing to fall asleep after half an hour of tossing and turning.
The world seems to hate him, since he wakes up at 2am, heading to the bathroom only to walk past your bedroom and hear you moaning. He can't make out what you're moaning - but he has a good idea - and he's thankful your doors are quiet when he opens the one to your room.
You're facing away from the door, legs spread, face in your pillow as your hips buck, fingers working your pussy furiously.
“Joel, Joel, fuck-” you gasp, whimpering as you get close.
Fuck this.
If he didn't get to come for the entire evening, you did not get to come right now.
He walks over to you, morales abandoned, and growls your name.
You squeak, biting your lip as you turn and look at him. You'd been so close, but now you're too petrified to finish.
“Joel, I-”
“Not another word.”
It's the last thing he says before he flips you back onto your stomach, pushing your head down into the pillows.
“You're gonna be a good girl and shut the fuck up while I fuck this needy pussy. You understand me?”
You part your lips to reply, earning a spank to your ass.
“Can't fuckin’ listen, can ya? No talking, baby.”
You nod, whimpering as he pushes your head back down and pulls your soaked panties off, tossing them onto the floor.
“Fuck, look at her. Drippin’ for me, ain't she? Didn't know you were such a slut, babygirl.” He teases, knuckles dragging along your slit, and you cry into the pillow, hips bucking back against his hand.
Another spank, making you moan, trying to stop your hips from bucking once more.
“You take what you're fucking given. Do you understand me?”
You nod, having learnt from your mistakes.
“Good girl. Knew you could listen for me.” He coos, before he's thrusting two of his thick fingers into your dripping heat.
You gasp and whine, moaning his name into the pillow, almost tearing your sheets with how hard you grip them.
“That's right.. moan my name. Fuckin’ slut.” He grunts, head ducking down to tease your clit with his tongue. You almost lose it, starting to clench hard and fast around his fingers. You're right on the edge when he pulls away.
“Joel!” You practically sob, deflating as your orgasm drifts away.
“Shh, shh. You thought you could tease me all night and still get off? Y’thought wrong, honey.” He coos, mocking, pulling down his sweatpants and slicking up his cock with your wetness, giving you no warning as he starts to push in.
“Ohh, fuck. Knew you'd be tight for me, baby. That's it, good girl.” He groans, bottoming out. He allows you to cry his name into the pillow, but when he starts really fucking you, it gets too much.
He pulls out to the tip before slamming back into you, making you almost scream, back arching and hips bucking - unsure if you want him to get out, or fuck you even harder.
He decides for you, starting to pound into you. The only sounds in the room are your broken moans, his heavy breathing, and the rhythmic slapping of skin on skin.
“Joel- Joel- pl-please I'm gonna come- please Daddy-” you moan, and his hips stutter before he's pulling you up by your hair, his back to your chest when he resumes his aggressive thrusts.
“Shut- the fuck- up.” He pants in-between thrusts, and you whimper, brows drawing together as you get close. He starts rubbing your clit and you see stars, unable to stop yourself from coming.
“Fuckfuckfuck yes, yes daddy- oh my god-” you sob, before he's pulling out and manhandling you onto your back, thrusting back inside to the hilt, palm covering your mouth.
“You better shut up right now unless you want your real daddy to wake up, find us here like this-” you curse silently when you clench around him at the thought - what is wrong with you?
“Oh, you like that? Dirty fucking girl. Such a slut for daddy, huh?” You clench tighter at that, and his thrusts speed up, pace irregular. “Yeah, you fuckin’ like that.”
His hand leaves your mouth and you cover it yourself, not wanting to anger him anymore.
“‘s okay, baby.” He murmurs, taking your hand from your mouth and leaning down to kiss you. As he does, his hand goes to your clit, and you moan loudly, muffled slightly by the kiss, as your back arches off the bed and you come so hard you see stars, setting off his own release and making him groan, biting your shoulder as he fills you up.
It's quiet for a moment, save for your shared panting, before he pulls out.
“Fuck, honey..” he murmurs, watching your shared fluids dribble out of your cunt, gathering them up on his fingers and pushing them back into your tight hole.
“Made such a mess, didn't we?” He says softly, brushing your hair away from your eyes as you giggle softly, nodding.
“That was so good.” You whisper, and he nods, gathering you up in your arms.
“Joel, you can't stay in here-” you mutter, confused.
“Just relax, honey. I'll leave in the mornin’. Just let me hold you for now.”
You're utterly perplexed, but you're definitely not complaining, swallowed up by his warmth and drifting off within a minute.
-
The next morning, you're opening presents, and you bite your lip when he reads his card from you. At the bottom, you'd added - come to my room afterwards for the second part of your gift - and when he comes upstairs afterwards, it's safe to say he doesn't leave for a good hour.
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Dividers by @adornedwithlight <3
Thank you sm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Have a good Christmas everyone!! ❤️
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muniimyg · 15 hours ago
Text
♡ 01: baby, i'm a dog
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series m.list // taglist
note: welcome to part 1 !!! this fic is def a diff vibe ,, kinda chill and jus sad LOL … tbh if i hate it i’ll jus edit it as a one shot cos #yolo #idc but also…. i fear this jk is a vibe
//
the cabin's front door slams shut behind jungkook.
his laughter spills into the cold air as he jogs to his car, tossing the keys to taehyung mid-stride. 
the hoseok and nam joon had roped him into a last-minute supply run—apparently, they underestimated just how much beer and snacks a group this size could burn through in one night. the crunch of snow under his boots and the slap of wind against his face brought a sharp clarity, a brief reprieve from the weight he'd felt the entire drive up here. 
he works nonstop all year… he only gets a few days of vacation. yet, this is how he spends his precious leisure days.
a part of him is still trying to figure out why he even came.
"think fast, shithead!" taehyung called, tossing the keys back. 
jungkook catches them effortlessly, smirking as he spins them around his finger.
as he opens his mouth to make a comeback, the sound of tires crunching over ice makes his chest go tight. instantly, he recognizes that it’s yoongi’s girlfriend’s car—but something about the way it’s driven pulls him further into himself.
jungkook is a car guy. 
he’s the car guy and knowing cars means knowing the people behind the wheel.
the way they park, the way they brake, even the rhythm of their turns.
and this car?
it parks too carefully, too smoothly.
it’s muscle memory that makes him stand straighter, his heart stumbling over itself. because he knows exactly whose hands are gripping the wheel before he even sees your face.
taking a few steps back, he watches as the suv rolls into the driveway, something heavy settling in his chest.
the sound of the car door opening snaps him out of his daze.
and it all suddenly feels like a fever dream. 
with the snow falling slowly and the way his heart skips a beat—you step out and completely stop his world.
you’re bundled in a cream puffer jacket and your cheeks flushed from the cold…
and you smile at him.
like, really smile at him. 
and jungkook thinks to himself; 
fuck.
you’re still so pretty. 
so fucking pretty. 
then, his mind blanks. 
he doesn’t know how to move, doesn’t even know how to breathe. all he can do is stare.
“jungkook!”
before he can even respond, you’re walking toward him, arms open.
he freezes when you hug him.
it’s not long—just enough to share a little warmth—but it’s enough to knock the air clean out of his lungs.
three years.
it’s been three years since he’s seen you, and now you’re here, wrapping him in a moment that feels too easy for all the time that’s passed.
is... is this easy for you?
because he can't breathe right now.
“i convinced her to come last minute,” yoongi’s girlfriend, mei, says. she’s practically bouncing with excitement. “the weather grounded her flight, and i told her it’d be way better to spend a few days with us than to sit around waiting.”
you pull back from jungkook and smile up at him like it’s nothing.
like he hasn’t been caught in the shockwave of your presence.
like you aren't the love of his life.
“figured it’d be fun,” you say lightly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. you glance around and squeal at the sight of your old friendgroup. “plus, i missed you guys.”
the others swarm in, laughing and throwing their arms around you, saying how long it’s been. jungkook hangs back, struggling to keep up with the reality in front of him. this wasn’t how he thought this trip was going to go.
as jin and yoongi haul your bags toward the cabin, you turn back to jungkook. your shoulder bumps against his as you tilt your head.
“is it okay that i’m here?”
he blinks at you.
“why wouldn’t it be?”
your shrug and look around. “nam joon’s your friend. this is his family cabin… i’m just your—“
“it’s fine,” he interrupts you.
silence.
then, you break it with a question and your signature soft tone.
“did i surprise you?”
jungkook nods stiffly, words caught in his throat.
"good."
... is all you say before you’re gone, following the others into the cabin, leaving him standing in the cold.
it takes a second, but his feet move on their own, trailing after you without a second thought. like a dog, he thinks, tail wagging behind its owner.
his hands clench into fists at his sides as he walks, the cold biting at his skin through his jacket.
you're here.
you're actually here.
they have invited you over and over again to friendgroup trips and you've only attended a handful of times. take note that those specific times were the ones where jungkook had rsvp'd no.
so this...
this?
this is completely beyond him.
you... in the flesh feels like some cruel cosmic joke to him. the kind of joke where the punchline cuts deep and leaves a scar.
three years.
three fucking years of trying not to think about you, of convincing himself he’d moved on.
three years of pretending he didn’t still see you in every corner of his life. he told himself he'd be ready for this moment if it ever came—that he'd have the right words, the right attitude, anything but the mess of disbelief and guilt twisting in his chest right now.
but here you are, running into his arms like none of it matters. like the years apart haven’t clawed at him the way they clearly didn’t claw at you.
he knows he shouldn’t be surprised.
you always were good at carrying things with grace, even when he was busy breaking them—breaking you.
a part of him feels bitter. he wishes you had a mean bone in your body. perhaps, he'd feel better... but you don't and all he's can think about is how good you smell.
“what the fuck," jungkook mutters under his breath, dragging a hand down his face as he steps into the cabin.
the warmth inside doesn’t reach him.
not really.
his heart is still somewhere out there in the cold, stuck in that driveway where you looked at him like nothing’s changed.
like he’s still someone worth smiling at.
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as you get settled, jungkook and taehyung excuse themselves again and leave for their little grocery run.
when they come back, an hour later—the plastic grocery bags cutting into his fingers as he kicks the snow off his boots.
laughter drifts from the kitchen, light and easy, mingling with the clatter of pots and pans. the scent of something savory hangs in the air, and for a moment, he lets it lull him, the warmth easing the tension in his shoulders.
“finally,” yoongi groans, swooping in to grab some bags from jungkook. “we thought you guys got lost or something.”
“tae couldn’t decide between doritos and cheetos,” jungkook mutters, rolling his eyes as he shrugs off his coat. “turns out we needed both.”
“damn right we did,” taehyung calls from behind him, slamming the door shut with his foot.
jungkook lets their banter fade into the background, his eyes instinctively drawn toward the kitchen. 
you’re there. 
standing near the counter, sleeves rolled up as you stir something in a pot. your hair’s pulled back, a few loose strands framing your face. you’re laughing at something yoongi’s girlfriend says, your hands moving gracefully as you gesture, completely at ease.
the view of you is so clear, yet so vivid in his memory.
it makes his heart ache.
it’s like you’ve always been here, laughing, stirring pots, and looking so effortlessly beautiful it makes his chest ache.
like he’s coming home to you again. 
“earth to jungkook?” jimin snaps his fingers in front of his face, smirking when jungkook blinks, caught. “you good?”
“yeah.” the word comes out too sharp, and he clears his throat, shrugging past jimin. “just gonna change.”
he doesn’t wait for a response and heads upstairs. the weight in his chest grows heavier with every step, a knot tightening in his stomach. when he reaches his room and pushes the door open, he freezes.
his bags aren’t where he left them.
instead, a collection of white baggage are stacked neatly in the corner. irritation flares, but it’s quickly doused by confusion—and a sinking realization.
“jungkook?” your voice calls softly from behind him, and he turns to see you at the top of the stairs, slightly out of breath.
you’re holding onto the banister, your other hand fiddling with the hem of your sweater. the soft fabric brushes your fingers as you glance at him, your expression tentative.
“the girls—um—mei, bria, and the others—they thought it’d be better if we moved your stuff,” you say, stepping closer. your voice is calm, and measured, but there’s a nervous energy in the way your eyes dart toward his. “i told them it wasn’t necessary, but they figured it’d be easier if... well, you know.”
jungkook leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. 
“so you’re gonna take my room?”
“it was our room for three years.”
“it’s been three years.”
“that’s true,” you hesitate, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “they put your stuff in jimin’s room. but i was just coming up to say, i can totally switch and room with joon’s girlfriend and make joon and jimin room together. i mean, it’d be a good chance to bond—”
“take the room.” his voice cuts through your rambling, low and firm.
your eyes widen slightly. 
“are you sure? i really don’t mind—”
“yeah,” he says, shrugging. “the only other option would be to share it with me… so…”
you pause, a laugh bubbling out before you can stop it. 
“that’d be crazy, right?”
something flickers across his face, too quick for you to catch. then, he straightens, his expression calm but his words heavy. 
“would it be though?”
the question hangs in the air, your laughter fading as his gaze lingers on you. his tone is light, almost teasing, but there’s something beneath it—something you can’t quite name.
you look away, brushing your hand over the doorframe as if needing something to ground you. 
“thanks, jungkook,” you say softly, the words carrying a warmth that feels too intimate. “i appreciate it.”
but before you turn, your hand reaches out, ruffling his hair in that way you used to when you thought he was being ridiculous. 
his breath catches, and he doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink as your fingertips graze his scalp.
then you’re gone, your footsteps fading as you head back downstairs.
jungkook exhales, his head tipping back against the doorframe as he stares at the ceiling. “fuck,” he mutters under his breath, the weight in his chest now impossibly heavier.
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by the time jungkook come down the stairs, the sound of laughter and chatter filling the space he follows behind you, catching the way the group immediately perks up. all eyes turning toward you both, and jin yells out, "look who finally decided to join the party!"
taehyung grins, his voice too cheerful for someone who clearly has something up his sleeve. 
“you two are late to the conversation, so you’re being voluntold to go back to town and grab some oil. we forgot to buy oil.”
jungkook freezes mid-step, his brows furrowing. 
“the fuck? i just got back. are you serious?”
you turn and see jungkook’s frustration bubbling up already as he turns to bicker with the guys, his voice rising in playful annoyance. “hyung, you couldn't just... check the damn list? are you fucking serious? i don’t want to go back—”
taehyung laughs, “we were too busy enjoying ourselves. you had fun with me! remember? we got both—”
“fuck that,” jungkook huffs. “i’m not going back—”
“you have to—”
“no, i don’t.”
“jungkook, you’re the youngest too—”
“why does that fucking matter?”
the group chuckles, but jungkook’s not laughing.
you watch jungkook’s face twist with irritation, the way his jaw tightens with every word that’s said. he’s always been like this—quick to snap when he feels cornered. it’s like he can’t stand being told what to do. 
he can’t. 
god, he really hates being pushed around.
you’ve always known that about him. yet, a part of you feels bad for him. 
“no. fuck that.” his voice is sharp, a little louder than it needs to be. “i’m not going back—”
the others try to reason with him even more, but his deflection is clear. 
it’s always the same with him, especially when he feels like he's being challenged. you can’t help but shake your head a little, a sigh almost escaping your lips as you glance at the group, waiting for the inevitable back-and-forth.
he’s the youngest, of course. always the youngest. always expected to just follow along, to do things because it’s “his turn” or whatever bullshit they’re using this time. 
you feel your own resolve settle, the urge to take control bubbling up before you can stop it. without even thinking, you walk over to taehyung, reach over, and grab the the car keys from his hand. 
you do it quickly, not even glancing at anyone else, just deciding in that moment that you’ve had enough of the back-and-forth.
“oil. anything else?” you ask, your tone light, almost too casual, as if this is no big deal.
you hear the group chuckle, but you're not listening to them. 
you’re watching jungkook now, his surprise registering only for a second before the annoyance flickers back into his eyes. 
he doesn’t have a choice now.
he hates this.
jungkook rolls his eyes, but it's too late—he knows it’s happening now. he snatches the keys back from your hand with a heavy sigh. he doesn’t look at you, but the slight dip in his shoulders gives him away. 
he’s still annoyed, but it doesn’t matter.
not if it’s about you. 
suddenly, he’s putting his boots on and slams the door. then, the sound of his car engine starting fills the silence. everyone turns to you in disbelief. 
“huh," you tilt your head. "i guess he's driving.”
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the car ride is silent, the engine purring smoothly beneath you.
jungkook’s car is new (to you, at least) and he drives like he’s trying to put as much distance between himself and the group as possible.
his knuckles are tight around the wheel, and every so often, his eyes flicker to you, then back to the road. you can feel the tension building up again, but neither of you says anything.
the store comes up quick, and you both slip inside. jungkook grabs the oil without a word, and as you stand by the aisle, you notice the carton of oat milk in his hand—your favourite brand too. 
you blink. 
“they didn’t ask for oat milk.”
he doesn’t look at you as he sets the carton into the basket, but there’s a quiet, almost hesitant shift in his posture.
“yeah. i know.”
you want to say something, anything, but you swallow the words. 
it’s just oat milk. 
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back in the car, you both buckle up in silence, and jungkook starts the engine with a soft grumble. the snow outside is heavier now, falling in thick, swirling sheets, the road barely visible.
the car stalls.
jungkook curses under his breath, his hands working over the wheel like he’s already analyzing what’s wrong. you watch him, knowing he’s not going to admit it, but it’s obvious.
“looks like we’re stuck for a bit,” he mutters. “better wait for the snow to calm down.”
you lean back in your seat, the quiet pressing in. there’s nowhere to go but forward now, and it’s strange, this calm in the middle of nowhere with him beside you, neither of you saying much.
the snow pounds against the windshield. jungkook shifts in his seat, tapping his fingers against the wheel as he watches the storm.
as jungkook stares at the snow pounds against the windshield, you stare at him.
you wait for him to say something. 
anything. 
but jungkook doesn’t meet your eyes.
his gaze is fixed on the road, his hands tight on the steering wheel. you can feel the distance between you two—the years, the hurt, the things that never got said. the things you did say… 
“so,” you start, your voice soft, the words almost hesitant. “how are you?”
jungkook scoffs.
“don’t.”
“don’t what?” you ask. “it’s been a while. i only really see what you’re up to via social media. you opened your own shop, right? i’m so proud of you. i know how long you’ve wanted to do that.”
jungkook nods. 
“yeah…” his response is immediate, but detached. “yeah, i mean… it was a lot easier when i got the right clientelle. so yeah, still doing that. luxury car mechanic bullshit. it’s... all right. not much to update you about.” his tone is nonchalant, almost like he doesn’t care, but you know it’s a front. it’s always been easier for him to hide behind that mask of indifference. 
“i’m sure there’s something—”
“i fix up cars people can’t even pronounce the names of. not a lot of excitement there. just... polishing up things people break, and making money for it.”
“okay,” you nod, your fingers tracing the edge of your seat. “jungkook, it’s me. don’t underplay this with me.”
he shrugs. 
for the first time in three years; you feel it again.
you feel this… sense of anger? annoyance?
hurt. 
jungkook is well known in the city. 
he's the go-to mechanic for luxury cars—bentleys, ferraris, lambos—if you've got money and a car that needs fixing, you go to him… and while we’re here; let’s brag about it. 
jungkook is not just any mechanic; he's the top of the game. he’s the most trusted in the industry, and somehow, he's built a reputation that makes even the richest clients feel like they’re getting something special.
most of them don't know it, but jungkook is lucky—unbelievably lucky. 
he didn’t come from money, didn’t grow up with connections or a silver spoon in his mouth. hell, he's still the kind of guy who wears sweat pants and a hoodie to work… but he's got an uncanny knack for fixing cars, his hands working like magic around every engine and every screw. it's a skill that came naturally to him, no effort needed—he was born with it. 
and that, somehow, has carried him through life.
the thing is, jungkook knows he's a loser. 
a lovable one, sure, but a loser nonetheless. 
he might be great with cars, but he's not the type to flaunt his success. his garage is both chaotic and high-end, a mix of organized chaos and state-of-the-art equipment, the kind of place that looks like it’s one bad day away from falling apart, but in reality, it's the most trusted name in the city.
he's rough around the edges, but that's part of his charm. he's got the grit to keep going when things get tough, but he stumbles through life in a way that makes everyone around him laugh—except when it comes to cars.
then, he's all business.
the fact that he's self-made, that he’s built everything from the ground up, doesn’t even fully sink in for him. he never asks for anything. the success just... happened, like it was meant to.
in the same sense, he’s a scumbag.
he’s gotten into trouble before, and he’s made his share of mistakes. but somehow, with the luck he’s got, he always lands on his feet. and that’s why, despite being a mess in every other part of his life, jungkook is the guy you call when your sports car breaks down in the middle of nowhere.
in fact, he’s the guy to be with in the middle of a snowy road. 
yet, with all these thoughts… you figure not to push it any further.
the silence stretches again, but this time it’s not quite as awkward. it’s still heavy, though—thick with the things that were never said. and you can feel it, the weight of all that unsaid stuff, but something else creeps in too. a quiet yearning, a reminder of the closeness you once had.
“how’s work for you?”
you clear your throat and chirp up.
“it’s good. great, actually. dior signed me to be their permanent event planner. i got to work with ysl and chanel last year so that was cool… lots of travelling… i don’t know. it’s been… fun. i think i’ve done a lot since...” 
“that’s good,” jungkook breathes. “i’m happy for you.” 
“really?”
“really.”
you let out a relieved breath.
“you know, i always refer my clients to your shop. truth be told, i found out about your shop through them before you even posted on social media.”
he flicks a glance at you, but it’s fleeting. 
“why?” he scoffs, but there’s no real anger behind it, just frustration. “you shouldn’t have…”
you wince slightly, but it’s not a judgment. you get it. you always have. the way he pushes people away, like he’s afraid of being too close to anyone, like caring might break him.
“we were in it together,” you reply, your voice quiet but warm. “life. our careers… everything. just because it didn’t work out between us doesn’t mean i was going to leave it as it was. i couldn’t help it. i thought of you whenever my clients complained about their cars. i thought of you whenever your favourite model drove past me. i thought of you, jungkook. how could i not? we spent three years together… so, don’t do that please. don’t act like the past three years haven’t been good to you… because as much as i could, i tried to send you some good. there was good.”
“okay,” he huffs out a breath, his shoulders tense. he’s quiet for a beat too long, and just when you think he might shut down, he mutters under his breath, his voice barely audible. “i appreciate it. all of it.”
“you’re welcome,” you smile. 
then, you turn and watch the snow falling heavier now, the world outside becoming more and more a blur. 
“you know,” you say, your voice almost teasing, trying to ease the weight of the moment, “your mom calls me on my birthday every year.”
his eyes flick to you again, almost imperceptibly, but it’s there. a flash of something in his eyes. a crack in the cool mask he’s built up. 
“sorry,” he apologizes. “i… shit, ___. you know, you’re her favourite.”
“don’t be,” you smile, though there’s a hint of sadness in it. “she’s my favourite too.”
then, he’s quiet again, but this time, there’s a softening to his expression, the edge of defensiveness slipping away. 
you let the silence settle again, the two of you wrapped in the quiet of the car and the storm outside. but this time, it feels different. not easy, not perfect. but it feels like maybe—just maybe—this is the first real conversation you’ve had in years.
and that’s enough for now.
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the cabin feels smaller when you get back, and the weight of jungkook’s presence only makes it tighter. the group’s immediately apologizing, teasing him about the oil run, their words sharp but light. 
“we totally forgot, man,” taehyung says, looking guilty. “guess you guys are our personal delivery service.”
jungkook doesn’t respond, his face already scrunching into an exaggerated grimace as he heads straight to the kitchen to help. you’re unsure if it’s from irritation or just sheer exhaustion.
maybe both, you think as you follow him. 
but the moment passes quickly, and you’re both swept back into the warmth of the group’s energy.
it’s dinner time soon after, and the room is buzzing. the conversation is loud, comfortable, with everyone laughing and sharing stories. jungkook and you sit across from each other, the space between you both thick and quiet. your presence seems to be the only thing that pulls him from his usual nonchalance—every time you speak, even the smallest comment, he cracks a smile, almost like he can’t help it.
yoongi catches it first, raising an eyebrow at jungkook. 
“what’s up with you, kid? you only smile when ___ talks. what? the rest of us aren’t funny enough for you?” his voice is teasing but his gaze lingers, as if looking for something more.
jungkook rolls his eyes, brushing it off with a half-hearted scoff. 
mei, sitting next to yoongi, shakes her head. she nudges you and you laugh it off. then, you lift your face and meet jungkook’s eyes. he offers you a short-lived smile. 
you take it. 
the jokes keep coming, but the way jungkook’s eyes flick to you each time you speak doesn’t go unnoticed. 
it’s subtle, the way his lips curve just a little, how his eyes soften just a fraction whenever you make a joke or offer your thoughts. but it’s enough. the others catch it, too, exchanging glances behind their drinks, a quiet realization settling between them.
after dinner, everyone migrates to the living room, pulling chairs and sofas closer to the fire. taehyung sets up the drinks, jin and hobi are already messing with the fire, adding logs with unnecessary dramatic flair, and namjoon is flipping through a deck of cards.
“we should play charades,” jimin suggests, his voice light as he pours more wine into his glass.
“charades? yeah, we could use some entertainment,” jin agrees, his gaze drifting between the group. “but i’m not going easy on you guys.”
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you end up on the same team as jungkook.
when it’s your turn to act out a word, you both fall into an easy rhythm. your gestures are sharp and exaggerated, and jungkook picks up on your cues instantly, his movements smooth and fluid. there’s an unspoken understanding between the two of you, the way your eyes meet for half a second before you both act out the next part of the clue. 
honestly, it’s like no time has passed since you last did this, and everyone else watches with mild surprise, the chemistry between you two almost palpable.
nam joon and taehyung share an amused glance, their eyes widening slightly, while jin snorts quietly. 
“okay, okay, we get it. you two are too good at this,” jimin says, shaking his head with a laugh.
“they’re like a team built for charades,” namjoon mutters, and yoongi, always perceptive, smirks.
“it’s like they can read each other’s minds,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you both. “almost makes me uncomfortable.”
you can feel the weight of their glances, the way they subtly watch every interaction, waiting for something to shift. and when the game finally wraps up, everyone is drunk, laughter louder and voices more relaxed.
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conversation moves from silly jokes to more serious topics, the kind that happens when the alcohol hits just right. somehow, everyone feels like they’re safe enough to let their guard down.
hoseok mentions work—how it’s been a mess lately, how nothing seems to be going right, and the conversation shifts into the stress of adulthood, of managing expectations and responsibilities.
“sometimes it feels like i’m drowning in it,” hoseok admits, rubbing his temples. “i mean, we’re doing okay, but god, it’s like every time i take a breath, there’s another problem.”
“sounds about right,” taehyung agrees, sipping his drink. “adulting sucks.”
the conversation flows around you, but then someone cracks a joke, and you reply with your usual snark. jungkook chuckles, and it’s a real, honest laugh, something that sounds familiar, something that feels like the version of him you used to know.
bria, who’s been quiet for most of the night, turns her gaze to jungkook, her eyes flicking between him and you with a raised brow. it’s obvious she’s drunk, so jungkook mentally prepares for the worst. 
“jungkook?”
“what do you want?” he sighs. “you’re drunk so choose your words carefully, bria. last time we talked while you were drunk like this, i made you cry for an hour.”
bria rolls her eyes at jungkook. 
“guess it’s my turn then,” she inhales deeply. “my turn to make you cry.”
jungkook gulps, but he tries his best to mask his fear. 
he knows exactly who she’s gonna target. 
“yah, do you think you’re slick or something?” bria asks. “why do you always laugh at ___'s jokes but no one else’s? you look at her and practically salivate. are you a dog? do you like her or something?” 
the group goes quiet. 
it’s then everyone realizes that it’s bria’s first cabin trip. even yoongi, who’s usually too aloof for moments like this, pauses, his gaze sharp as it flicks between you and jungkook. there’s a tension, thick enough to make your chest tighten, and you feel the eyes of the group on you.
it’s like the breath has been knocked out of the room. bria’s words hang between you and jungkook, heavy and unwelcome.
for a second, no one says anything.
you can feel the heat in your cheeks, the way everything seems to slow down. 
your mind races. 
“we’re exes.”
bria’s voice cuts through the silence again, softer this time. “oh, shit… fuck, right. yeah. i remember now… i guess it never clicked because i’ve only known you for a few months���”
“yeah,” jimin pulls bria close. he gestures towards the direction of their room. she shakes her head, refusing his obvious cue. “babe, let’s get you to bed—”
“no, wait… just w-wait. you and ___? but you two... are literally perfect for each other. what happened?” bria blurts, her tone genuine and almost searching.
you catch the way jungkook’s body tenses up.
from across the group, you chase for his eyes. they meet for the first time all night and you swear—there’s a flicker of something there. 
something soft and promising. 
something almost like love, but a lot like loss. 
as quickly as you see it, it fades away. so, you offer him a soft smile. then, shake your head slightly, the movement almost imperceptible. it’s a signal.
don’t answer.
but he doesn’t look away.
and then, as if the silence is unbearable, jungkook speaks, his voice low but steady, almost like it’s been waiting to come out for too long.
“i fucked up,” jungkook admits. “i fucked up like everyone said i would.”
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the-clumsywitchtarot · 2 days ago
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How Can You Improve Your Health in the New Year? Pick-a-Card Reading
(Tarot & Oracle)
Because we're all about self improvement over here.
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Cards
The Tower (Reversed)
Temperance (Reversed)
Knight of Wands
Immediately I got that this pile might want to focus on their mental health. I feel like this pile might really struggle with anxiety but with the tower in reverse I feel like you worry needlessly most times. But you're just so afraid that the one time you relax could be the time that things fall apart. With temperance in reverse and the knight of wands I feel like you try to regulate your emotions and calm down but the moment something seems like it might go wrong you go back into freak out mode.
Oracle Cards
Rose Quartz: Love - Heart Chakra
Malachite: Nature - Heart Chakra
Cinnabar: Business - Sacral Chakra
With the rose quartz crystal coming out I feel like you need to show yourself more love when you face these moments of anxiety instead of trying to make yourself snap out of it. The malachite crystal has to do with the heart chakra and nature in this deck, getting out into nature may help to make you feel more emotionally stable. Cinnabar is associated with business and the sacral chakra in this deck, this makes me think some of the anxiety you may be feeling could be about work. Consider working with these crystals to help balance your heart and sacral chakras. The sacral chakra is actually connected to the emotions and I also consider the heart chakra to be closely associated with emotions. If you decide to use cinnabar please use extreme caution, be careful with malachite as well.
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Cards
4 of Cups
6 of Swords
5 of Swords
I feel like this pile's main focus needs to be on physical health. Some of the people in this pile might already be into physical fitness and for those people I feel like you do workouts that you don't really like for the sake of weight loss or just because you think it's a workout you should be doing. But with the 4 of Cups I feel like there are other workouts that you could be doing that you would actually enjoy but you aren't looking into any other form of exercise. I also feel like this pile could really struggle with body image, the coming year (2025) is really the time to try and release that and realize that you don't have to be at war with your body. Your job is not to make your body look a particular way (especially not a way that is impossible to achieve without extreme behaviors) your job is to make sure that you keep your body as healthy as you can.
Oracle Cards
Seraphinite: Honesty - Heart & Third Eye Chakras
Obsidian: Obsidian - Root Chakra
Dioptase: Direction - Heart Chakra
I feel like with the honesty card (seraphinite) you are being called to look at yourself, really look at yourself and see yourself for who you are. Beyond your body, beyond other's perceptions of you, beyond what you've been told you are based on other family members. Really look into your heart and soul and begin living your life from your soul and not based on your physical appearance.
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Cards
4 of Pentacles
3 of Cups
The Empress (Reversed)
This pile might want to work on their financial health in the New Year. The first thing I'm hearing is you don't have to be at every brunch or outing your friends have because it's really starting to add up. For a very small group of people that chose this pile, I feel like you might enjoy clubbing often and it's becoming quite expensive. And I feel like everyone in this pile really enjoys going out but instead of going somewhere where you have to spend money look for more inexpensive options. Instead of going for a boozy brunch consider meeting up with your friends at a coffee shop, or going for a picnic in the park, or find affordable or free events in your area that you can go to. But whatever you do, you might really want to consider saving more of your money.
Oracle Cards
Peridot: Teach - Heart Chakra
Carnelian: Self-Confidence - Root & Sacral Chakras
Malachite: Nature - Heart Chakra
With this first card (Peridot) I feel like some of you could be teachers but I mostly feel like by you taking on this new attitude of financial responsibility. That you'll teach those around you how to be more financially responsible too. I feel that you feeling like you have control over your finances will give you a boost of confidence. I feel like malachite will help you to manifest more money but also help you during this time of going from someone that used to be somewhat financially irresponsible to someone that knows how to manage their money well.
I hope this reading resonated with you and please feel free to let me know which pile you chose! And please get professional help to improve your health if you think you need it. 🩷
-Erika, The Clumsy Witch
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xi-xi-chen · 2 days ago
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Hola~ I saw somewhere with someone asking how I have the energy for these comics or to draw in general.
I don't. However!
I like to at least sketch one page in the morning and then one in the evening. I used to blow through it all in one day one sitting, but then that lead to a quick burn out and not getting the rest done.
So if anything, the morning/evening is a new thing I'm trying. And then overall, it's just also because I love to draw.
And then, one final quick note that I have for myself if anyone is interested: draw ugly
If I can at least get the stick figures down, then it's one progressive step to the vision I have.
This is probably the closest example I have of a full process (minus the detailed stuff of course) first I make a very rough sketch, and then clean up and then attempt to color. Really my challenge at the moment is anatomy and coloring without greyscaling it all the time or something.
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Another example, this is a modern AU of college student Lux crushing on Actress Jinx and have a chance meeting at Starbucks at the campus. Why is Jinx there? To visit the theatre program at the campus and etc etc, I haven't really thought out the whole thing, just really wanted to draw this little moment.
But so far this is what I mean by draw ugly because I really struggled to make even at least 3 pages for it.
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I hope that helps for anyone, I'm really determined to master drawing out comics now too, the next challenge would be putting color to it. Thanks for reading!
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bwat5-blog · 3 days ago
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The Commander: Part Two
**Spoilers For All Of Arcane**
***LONG I AM NOT KIDDING***
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We jump back into the exploration of Caitlyn's story ash she leads the strike team into Zaun. She names three objective:
Locate Jinx
Dismantle Shimmer
Neutralize any agents still loyal to Silco
Now in the interest of clarity and rational thinking, let us take a moment to examine each of these objectives without consideration of Caitlyn's current mental state, as well as an objective look into the use of the grey. I will indicate the beginning and end of this section clearly. The reason I am making a point of this, is so that you know I am going to discuss the moral and ethical concerns here. But, this is really when people started losing their mind regarding Caitlyn's arc so lets begin with turning down the temperature, and taking a more rational look at what unfolds.
The Strike Team:
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"Can I do the right thing for the wrong reason? Is it bad that I'm making friends with my demons, and living by a couple deadly sins just to make sure I finish what you began..... let it rain down hellfire, can't hide away. it's judgement day, and no one gets out alive"("Hellfire" Fever 333")
Logic Based Examination Of the Strike Team's Objectives And Methods:
Locate Jinx- As members of the audience, it is easy to hear Caitlyn and feel outrage. We have seen Jinx's suffering and struggle since she was a little girl named Powder. We have seen that Silco used Caitlyn's presence in the undercity to drive Vi and Jinx apart, and that Sevika did so with the express intent of driving Jinx further into chaos. But to the entity that is "Piltover", what does Jinx actually represent?
A- The theft of the gemstone in which six enforcers were killed, and a building was burned down.
B- The bombing of the Bridge, in which several enforcers were killed.
C- The assassination of three councilors, destruction of the council chamber, paralyzing Salo from the waist down, and maiming Shoola's eye
D- As I stated in part one, although we the audience know that Jinx was not involved in the attack on the memorial, in the wake of her killing the council members and being known as the "daughter" of Silco, it is completely reasonable that the people of Piltover are linking her to this attack as well.
Caitlyn's emotional link aside, Jinx has come to represent a dangerous and highly intelligent threat to the safety of Piltover. They do not see her wandering the streets of Zaun afterward, ready to die. They see that a violent terrorist gained access to the most powerful innovation of their life time, weaponized it extremely fast implying her brilliance, conducted what they understand to be a political assassination, and then sent soldiers into Piltover during a time of grief to kill more. Again, this is all to be considered without Caitlyn's impact. It is simply the facts as they understand them.
2. Dismantle Shimmer- Shimmer and Hextech are the answers to each other. Topside has their great source of power, and the undercity has theirs. And while the intent to dismantle it seems to have more to do with taking that weapon away from their enemies than anything, Shimmer is a dangerous, unstable, highly addictive drug that caused a tremendous amount of suffering in the undercity. It's long term exposure leading to addiction, mutation, and death.
3. Neutralize Any Agents Still Loyal To Silco- So what we see when the strike team begins their operation, is that they are targeting the Chem-Barons and their operations primarily having to do with Shimmer. The Chem-Barons are dangerous crime lords pushing Shimmer and murdering those who stand against them. As we see in "Watch It All Burn" they are ripping the undercity apart in their struggle for power, despite Sevika's efforts to make them stop.
"Dirty little animals, you cannibals, eat your supper.. one by one all these vultures keep coming".. ("Sucker" Marcus king)
These are NOT good people. They are not freedom fighters. They are not speaking truth to power and standing for the oppressed. They are violent and selfish criminals who even if they believed in a cause once, have long since abandoned it in favor of greed, and power.
Now, moving forward from that look at their objectives, let's talk about what got our hash-tagger (I haven't forgotten about you and welcome back!) and their friends rage smashing their keyboards.
The Grey-
Origin-
Using the Kiramman key, Caitlyn learns that her forebears created the ventilation system used filter the toxins from the air in the undercity. It is first described as "factory smog trapped underground", and from what we are given to understand, Piltover scientists have weaponized it for the strike team's purposes. Although we do see Silco use some version of it to bring the Chem-Barons into line when they question him.
Confirmed Effects-
Painful irritation to eyes: We this across its multiple uses for the most recent example, look at Cait's eyes during the final fight against Ambessa in season 2.
Nasal irritation: Heenot seems to sneeze quite a bit from exposure
Painful irritation to the throat: Every person exposed immediately starts to cough, hack, that sort of thing quite violently
Trouble breathing to the point of incapacitation: Multiple examples, some people seem to take it better than others.
Now, what did I not list? Death. There is a reason. There is not a single indication anywhere that the use of The Grey in these short term combat situations has killed anyone. In fact, we have repeated examples of characters who are exposed and are very much alive:
Caitlyn Kiramman: Exposed during fight against Ambessa and her forces.
Steb: Exposed during fight against Ambessa and her forces.
Heenot: Left hanging exposed in the grey By Jinx.
Jinx: Exposed when the strike team comes for her in the arcade.
Finn (dead but not because of gas): Exposed by Silco in season one. Now in fairness, whatever Silco had was clearly not the same form as what the strike team are using, but if anything it seems more violent, as the Chem-Barrons react far more quickly than we see people reacting to the grey.
Throughout Arcane, there are multiple statements regarding the "poisoning of our air" when people of Zaun speak about Topside. This is to do with pollution,smog and runoff from the mines and industry of Piltover. That's what the strike team is using, weaponized pollution to incapacitate enemies and drive people off the streets who are not fighting. And just like severe pollution would there be long term health effects if you were consistently exposed? Certainly. We see this in the diagrams Caitlyn is inspecting regarding the ventilation. But that is not what is happening here. In order to maintain proper perspective and not let rhetoric blind us, below you will find a very brief list of real world chemical weapons and a few of their side effects:
Sarin Gas: Cardiac arrest, coma, paralysis, respiratory failure
VX Gas: Seizures, Increased fluid buildup in airway and digestive tract, flaccid paralysis, death
They are quite clearly not the same. And if you consider the fact that they are chasing someone who is quite fond of using explosives, using a weapon that clears innocent people off of the streets and incapacitates enemies meaning they don't have to kill them, is far from the great crime against humanity people have made it out to be.
End Of Logic Only Based Analysis
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Okay, now that we have that out of the way let's get back to why we are all here, Caitlyn Kiramman. If you refer to the lyrics of the song that plays during a look into the strike-team's actions, even just the first line tells us where her head space is. "Can I do the right thing, for the wrong reasons". The reason I just went through all of that above, is that it is easy to see how Caitlyn can justify all of this in her mind. The Strike Team is the alternative to a full-scale invasion, first off. And they want to dismantle the operations of the violent criminals that are tearing the Undercity apart, as well as catch the person who brought this most recent storm of Piltover's wrath upon the innocents of Zaun.
But as we see, Caitlyn is falling further and further into her rage and pain as this operation continues. Even in the cinematic for hellfire, her face is so clear. This mission is not about justice or liberating Zaun from the criminals so willing to harm their own, it is about revenge. If you recall, in part one I discussed and cited the potential emotional and mental effects of exposure to violence someone may suffer from. Caitlyn has in NO WAY BEGUN TO HEAL. And now she is leading her team in urban warfare, in the streets of Zaun losing more of herself day by day.
To conclude, we need to discuss two primary factors in all of this regarding Caitlyn's mental state, as we lead up to the battle of the ventilation chamber.
The Grey:
Have the fandom completely and totally lost their minds regarding the grey. Yes. I'm sorry, but yes. Take a moment and consider if they weren't using it, it scares away innocents and incapacitates those who would fight. Whatever the death toll was during this operation, it would have been much worse if they had a full-on firefight in every situation.... And to those who say "well they didn't have to be there in the first place" remember that the alternative here is a full-scale military invasion with hex-tech wielding enforcers. After the memorial attack there is no question, Piltover is coming.
However, what it is also, it is a perversion of Caitlyn's families good work. A twisting of what her forebears designed to give the people of the undercity good clean air. The point here is following the theme given to us by song in the beginning, the right thing for the wrong reasons. Caitlyn is able to hide from the truth of the darkness growing in her because this all seems so righteous. But the woman who loves her and she loves in return sees through her, which brings us to another consideration.
Vi:
Vi's turn as an Enforcer is extremely controversial in the fandom, and there is a lot of discussion about the various facets of her story. Here, we are focusing on Caitlyn, but for what I should hope are beyond obvious reasons, Vi is immensely important to Caitlyn's story. So that end, we need to understand a few points:
Vi made her own choice: Listen y’all, anyone who has been keeping up with me knows Vi is my favorite character. I have vigorously defended the character against the bizarre and idiotic criticisms that have been levelled at her since this season and will continue to do so happily. But people blaming Caitlyn for Vi being here are wrong. There is a conversation to be had about Caitlyn asking Vi to come and wear the uniform (and we are going to), but Vi made the decision for herself. No one put a gun to her head.
Caitlyn asked Vi to come and wear the uniform: As previously stated, Vi made her own choice. But, I think if we consider how Caitlyn has treated Vi throughout the story, the fact that she would ever ask Vi to come and do this, to wear the symbol of her parents murderers and do violence in Zaun's streets, speaks fairly significantly to her tunnel vision regarding their mission and her lessening ability to consider the consequences of her actions as she becomes more and more violent. Caitlyn has only ever been kind and loving to Vi, but the part of her that has to know what all of this is doing to her, is sinking further and further below the waves.
The Kiss-
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Before confronting Jinx and Sevika, Vi asks Caitlyn for a moment, having seen the darkness consuming her. They come to an agreement on sending the rest of the team home, for fear of Jinx using their inexperience against them. It is then that they have a discussion that will impact both of them for months to come:
Caitlyn: "I can't let her get away again. Are you sure you're ready to..?"
Vi: "My sister is gone... there's only Jinx now. It has to end. I'm so sorry about your mother, I'm sorry I can't bring her back. Please just, everyone in my life has changed. Promise me you won't change"
Vi tears up, clearly overwhelmed and Caitlyn kisses her, saying "I won't".
It's a very moving moment and one fans of their love have been waiting for a very long time. Sadly, it is also quite clear that it was a doomed promise to ask for. Because the reality is that Caitlyn has already changed and been changing. It isn't a fair thing of Vi to expect Caitlyn to remain unchanged in this overwhelming situation. But Vi isn't being malicious, she has lost quite literally everyone she has ever cared for, and sees the last person she has left changing in front of her, she is afraid. And for Caitlyn's part, she sees the woman she loves, showing the vulnerability and fear and need of comfort that she knows Vi will only let her see, and she wants to be that for her. Wants to make her feel better. But on some level Caitlyn knows she can't honor that promise, so she doesn't make one. She says "i won't".
The Ventilation Chamber:
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        Finally, for the first time since Jinx killed her mother, Caitlyn is face to face with the living embodiment of her nightmares. I am certainly not going over the entire list again, but I encourage you to revisit the list of reasons Caitlyn has to hate/fear Jinx.  When it all comes to a head, Caitlyn has her rifle on Jinx, with Isha trying to shield her, and Vi makes her stop. Trying to reason with her due to the risk of hitting Isha. After Sevika detonates the charges and Vi and Cait are thrown into the next chamber, Caitlyn insists she had the shot still in defiance of Vi’s bringing up the risk of hitting Isha. They lash out verbally at one another, with Caitlyn hitting Vi in the stomach with her rifle and leaving her behind. We need to more closely examine what we are seeing to understand this situation appropriately:
Vi tries to call out to Caitlyn repeatedly and tell her “She’s a child”, all Caitlyn responds with is “Move, she’s not getting away again”: We know Caitlyn. There is quite literally no scenario in which the Caitlyn we know would endanger the life of a child. But here, it’s like she can’t even see Isha. She is wide eyed, breathing heavy, looks incredibly angry, and even fires twice, striking Vi’s glove once.  She is showing extreme tunnel vision and single-minded rage putting the life of a child and the woman she loves at risk with her actions. Everything about the way she is behaving suggests a severe episode related to her PTSD, standing face to face with the source of her trauma.
Caitlyn tells Vi she is no different than Jinx because of the blood in her veins and hits her in the stomach with her rife stock, abandoning her: Okay, as I have said, Vi is my favorite character. So yes, when I saw this part I wanted to reach through the screen and choke her out. But again, we have to take a step back for a moment. I know I have not done much of a job in explaining it, but Caitlyn has been demonstrating consistently mounting psychological trauma since this all started. Now she has survived a violent confrontation and come face to face with the symbol of all of it. Just a refresher as to what she is feeling in this moment:
Guilt- She had a shot on Jinx that very first time. So, she has been carrying that with her regarding her mother’s death
Hatred- I think it’s totally fair to say she legitimately and completely hates Jinx given everything that has happened
Fear- She is terrified of Jinx. I have listed all of the reasons why, but for Caitlyn this moment is being face to face with the monster and at the end of the movie. Except in this version, the person you love stops you from finishing the monster. (in Caitlyn’s emotionally overloaded POV)
Betrayal- Although Vi had a totally valid reason for stopping Caitlyn, Caitlyn is not in a place where she can see that. In this moment all she can process is that Vi told her she was ready for it to end before they went into that chamber, and then Vi stopped her.
Shame- Look at her eyes a moment after she hits Vi. She is clearly full of regret and leaves quickly
As I have stated previously, simply from a layman’s perspective there seems to be quite of bit of evidence of Caitlyn’s trauma wreaking havoc on her ability to process and deal with this situation in any way that she normally would.
A Lamb To The Slaughter:
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Standing at the general assembly while Ambessa makes her speech, we need to take stock of where Caitlyn is at this moment emotionally and mentally:
Survived series of multiple violent incidents that almost claimed her life over very short time
She is twenty-three years old
Abducted from her childhood home and terrorized
Mother murdered
Survived attack at mother’s memorial
Lead team in urban warfare in Zaun
Stopped from getting revenge on jinx for all of it
Romantic partner is gone
Grieving, exhausted, angry, afraid, guilty, betrayed, and full of hate
So when Ambessa Medarda, a warlord, a literal leader of men promises justice and names her the commander, she has no chance at resisting her. She is vulnerable and alone, with a highly intelligent older figure filling the role of the parent she lost, telling her to weaponize her suffering, promising her justice. Sound Familiar?
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Before we move into discussing her time as the "Dictator", I do also want to draw attention to something. As I said, Caitlyn is 23 years old. Every person in that assembly knows who she is. They know she is extremely young, and despite her remarkable accomplishments she is also in immense emotional turmoil. Do any of the older people there do anything as a warlord in her fifties calls Caitlyn and essentially rubberstamp's her forehead with the word "SCAPEGOAT!". No they don't. And please, don't misunderstand this to mean I do think Caitlyn is accountable for her mistakes and decisions both up til now and moving forward. But you have to actively be ignoring details not to see that Caitlyn has been manipulated and used by Ambessa.
The "Dictator":
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First and foremost, a word on the pacing of this part of Caitlyn's story. There are many varying opinions on the handling of pacing in season 2. I have made mine known, and so will spare you the diatribe here. I will simply say, that for such an important part of her story, we don't spend a lot of time with her. The fact that she doesn't have one scene clearly indicating she is thinking of Vi is a felony offense. I don't care where the pillows are with Maddie.
Hashtagger! We are finally here, she is the figurehead of a system of marshal law. Very exciting stuff. I know you have been waiting, eager to use the word fascist and other fun names. But stick with me. You will be surprised what you can learn when you actually watch the show.
What We Actually Know:
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Per comments from Amanda Overton, it has been 3-6 months since the events of "Finally Got The Name Right"
She is in a romantic relationship with Maddie, who we have the hindsight of knowing is a Noxian Spy
Zaun has been fully occupied with checkpoints and inspections
Jinx has become a symbol to Zaun
Ambessa conducting secret hex-tech experiments and brutal interrogations
She has forbidden use of the cells like Vi was in
Has become close.. or at least something like it with Ambessa
In the time since we last saw her, Caitlyn has become a very different person than we left off. She seems tired, cold and withdrawn. She frequently expresses doubt and concern over how things are happening but cannot bring herself to put a stop to it when given the chance at various points (or more accurately being tested to see if she will try to put a stop to it I suppose). The fandom at large has taken this part of Caitlyn's story and used it to turn her into Idi Amin. This is completely laughable. While Caitlyn is responsible for her mistakes and her bad decisions, the truth here is that she is a young woman who has been totally submerged by her inner darkness. She is being manipulated to the highest degree, and has been made a scapegoat by a woman she has come to trust. First and foremost to get an understanding of this time for her, we have to discuss she and Ambessa.
Caitlyn & Ambessa-
Much like Silco and Jinx, I do not doubt that Ambessa has come to care for Caitlyn in some way. Ambessa has focused a great deal on teaching her and does seem to actually believe in her to some degree, as Rictus will later share with her. But ultimately, Caitlyn has been a target of Ambessa's manipulations much longer than she can image. We know that the Memorial attack was orchestrated to exacerbate the conflict between the two cities. And when Caitlyn enters the council chamber afterward to announce her strike-team's mission, Ambessa is quite clearly impressed. So when it all comes to head after the Strike Team's mission has failed, Ambessa moves in, filling the hole in Caitlyn's life and guiding her away from the light. We learn some important things in these interactions between or about them, regarding Ambessa's manipulation of her:
When speaking to Rictus, Ambessa says "the moment WE seize control of this backwater". She is not talking about Caitlyn. There are no illusions here as to who is in charge.
"I've learned so much from her..she delivered us Zaun as she promised... who knows how many would have died". Caitlyn talking about Ambessa to Maddie. The Noxian spy Ambessa put in Caitlyn's bed.
Caitlyn and Ambessa acknowledge mutual lack of trust between them.
Caitlyn questions Ambessa over violence being done by them. States arrests require cause. We see that Ambessa likes that fire in Caitlyn , and they have conversation regarding forgiveness: "Maybe you have the strength I do not.. to forgive.. and trust in tomorrow"... This is a powerful moment because Ambessa is using it to guilt Caitlyn into keep fighting, but in reality it becomes Caitlyn's greatest strength.
Ambessa trains Caitlyn in combat, calls her kin. And teaches Caitlyn the very thing she will one day use to defeat her.. sacrifice
"There are moments when your in so deep, it feels easier to just swim down...." (It's quiet uptown, Hamilton)
We are not witnessing the reign of a power hungry despot in Caitlyn. We are seeing a broken and angry young woman whose greatest failing is believing what this vastly more experienced mentor is telling her is the right thing. And even when she knows deep down it's not, cannot bring herself to believe there is any hope left. We are given many examples of the conflict she is feeling:
"Up again?"- We learn from Maddie Caitlyn has not been sleeping well
"I never thought it would go on this long... I don't know what I thought"- Caitlyn expressing clear regret over how things have gone down
Questions Ambessa over Rictus inciting violence
Questions Ambessa as to why peace is always the justification for violence
Has forbidden the use of cells like the one Vi was in
Considers Singed a monster for creating Shimmer
As I have stated in other documents moving forward from here especially we just take off at a dead spring regarding Caitlyn's story. From here on out we are dealing with her making things right with Vi and the fallout of that decision regarding Ambessa, and of her time as the Dictator over the two cities. I know I have done the pivotal moments of Caitlyn's story in the past, but given the pacing here it still seems the best way to dig into this, so that is how I will proceed.
Reunion with Vi & Beginning Of Redemption:
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Vi and Caitlyn finally meet again, on the ridge outside of the commune. Caitlyn is scouting and jumps Vi, not realizing who she is due to her appearance. I have spoken on this quite a bit recently, and I even enjoyed a lovely conversation with some people who feel differently than I do. But that being said, this is how this all reads for me. Caitlyn has shut herself off completely to the chance of Vi still caring for her. All that we have seen of Caitlyn during her Dictatorship is that she has essentially given up. She won't risk pulling out of Zaun for fear of something worse happening, she bends to Ambessa with every explanation of why these wrong doings are necessary, you get the idea. So she certainly is closing herself off and distancing herself from the chance of the woman she loves still caring for her. Until she hears her nickname.
Now I have seen someone say that her eyes soften because it means the distance between them, like she is upset. I disagree. Caitlyn is extremely stiff until Vi calls her cupcake. And if Vi was holding her at arms length by using that nickname, she wouldn't trust her with the information about Vander. In truth, it takes the love of her life, a woman who refused to give up on those she cares for completely even in the darkest of times, to reignite hope in Caitlyn that there is a way out of that darkness. And so she makes the decision to help. Now what does that actually mean:
Turning on Ambessa
Losing support of the Noxian soldiers
Losing control of undercity which means Jinx
Starting A War
This takes us to our next moment showing the changes in her. Once the violence in the commune has already started.
Choosing Love: Part One
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It's a quick moment. But right then and there the object of all of Caitlyn's hatred and rage is running by her, her back exposed to Caitlyn's rifle, and her eyes never leave Vi
Choosing Love: Part Two
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So first of all not the right GIF i know, I couldn't find one of her in Caitlyn's bed for season 2. But the point, is that Caitlyn has been watching over Vi personally in her own room.
Taking Accountability:
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Vi wakes from her injuries sustained saving her sisters life, and she and Caitlyn finally have a chance to talk. First and foremost she just looks so downtrodden. She knows how badly she has hurt the people she loves and is trying so hard to hold it together to make things right. But when she and Vi get into the crux of the conversation there are several important moments:
"I KNOW!"- Caitlyn admits to everything Vi is accusing her of
"We can't erase our mistakes, none of us"- Caitlyn including herself in those who have done wrong
Caitlyn then goes to speak with Jinx and gives us another big clue as to where her mind is:
"No amount of good deeds can undo our crimes"- Once again, placing herself on level ground with jinx
"Hating you.. I've hated myself.. I just don't have the energy for it any longer"- Admitting to hating herself for what she has done
Choosing Love: Part Three
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Think back if you will, to the Battle of the Ventilation Chamber. Caitlyn Kiramman, wild eyes, ragged breath, completely enraged beyond reason, tried to take a shot at Jinx that could have easily killed a little girl, and then struck Vi and abandoned her. With everything they have through since that terrible day, Caitlyn has opened the way for the woman she loves, to free her mother's killer if she chooses. And when she finds Vi, she goes to comfort her, to validate her, to let her know that she is loved and that her undying heart is special and worthy of love as well. This is a truly beautiful scene that goes so far past a sex scene it's really hard to put into words how much meaning is conveyed in how it all plays out. There are a lot of excellent breakdowns and such if you wish to look, but for me I will say this. Caitlyn has shown Vi that her love for her is more important than hate could ever be. And in that moment, showed a strength Ambessa herself admitted she does not possess.
The Commander Reborn:
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When she was a young girl, Caitlyn was asked a question. "Begs the question young Kiramman, what are you shooting for?" She knows now. Caitlyn stands on the front lines of the battle with her people. She is involved in a variety of incredible action sequences but the point, is that while she did lose herself, her values and her purpose to all of that rage and pain, she found her way back again.
Where once she allowed Ambessa Medarda to put her boot on the neck of the Undercity in the name of Caitlyn's grief, now Caitlyn stands on the front lines against her former mentor at only twenty-four years of age. And it is not without cost. She is stabbed, beaten, almost killed when Maddie's betrayal is revealed, and utilizing Ambessa's lesson sacrifices her own eye to stop her. And that is to say nothing of the mental trauma she has endured. But she is stronger, more resilient, and more sure of herself than she ever was. And, she is no longer alone.
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With the occupation of Zaun ended, the council restored, and Caitlyn surrendering the Kiramman seat to none other than Sevika, she and Violet finally are allowed to just live, love, and heal with one another. It seems she has suspicions that Jinx survived the final battle (as we all do) but the show runners made the decision not to address that for now.
Caitlyn's story is truly one of dramatic change. She begins as a well intentioned but naïve enforcer, and ends as a respected commander who shed her own blood to keep the people she once failed safe. She and Vi have immeasurable healing before them, that is undeniable. But in such a dark and violent world, these two souls found one another and clawed their way back to each-other in the face of everything that was thrown at them. And it is through that bond that they will find their happiness.
My friends i went way... way... more in-depth on some of this than I thought. But I thought it was important... I think so much of the nonsense regarding this character is because she being labeled according to a single fast look instead of people seeing the truth of her incredible story. As always with these long ones, i feel like I probably wandered a little and if so I apologize. But I hope I managed to convey the depth of this character in at least some small way. To anyone patient enough to read this I thank you, to those who go even further and respond, I love learning more about this story from you all. Keep standing up for stories that matter.. Til next time!
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jazeswhbhaven · 16 hours ago
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I couldn't help myself I wanted to write something about this....(credit to @bakdbfi for the screenshot)
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(soft, vanilla, passionate sex, serious!Asmodeus, GN!Reader)
When you arrived at the designated cabin in the dense forest and mountains on Earth, the snow quietly falling, the chill air nipping at your nose...you had no idea what Asmodeus was thinking inviting you so suddenly.
Stepping into the cabin, it's warm, the scent of smoky wood and cinnamon greeting you like a blanket of comfort. Your mind was set at ease, despite the location being in the middle of nowhere and the usual antics of the devil you met in Hell. What could he really be planning?
As you take off your boots you see a trail of rose petals on the floor, leading you to the back of the cabin where you're certain the bedroom is located. This seems...out of character for him, right? You're normally met with the usual in your face, cock out, flirty intensity where you swear he was in heat by the way he drooled at the sight of you.
Not tonight. In fact, he was nowhere to be seen. You weren't sure if you should be worried, but you walk the path set before you. When you reach the bedroom it's even more cozy than the living room. Warm lights, a thick and fluffy bed with plenty of pillows and blankets, a small fireplace with the sounds of crackling and pops of burning wood. The window though covered with sheer curtains, giving you a romantic view of the snow covered pines. It was perfect in every sense of the word and your comfort levels were more than relaxed.
"I can tell by your body language, that you love it."
Large, soft hands reach over your shoulders and down your collarbones as Asmodeus whispers tenderly in your ear.
"I said I'd make this a wonderful memory, though I'm sorry I couldn't give the full experience of putting the little ones to bed."
Your first reaction is soft laughter, realizing that his text to you on Christmas was serious now that the two of you were here. This was the only time he could get you alone and away from the other Kings, but you assumed it was just another quick dick appointment.
However, right now he wasn't laughing with you, or saying his usual overly sexual comments that made you cringe. In fact, he was peppering kisses on your neck, gently massaging your chest and tugging at your sweater.
"Get in the bed, please?"
It shouldn't have made you shiver, but it did. While it was a request, the hint of controlled restraint in his voice had you realize he was struggling to be patient in your presence. If he could do that, then it must meant this was serious. You couldn't help but oblige. Though, you didn't have to be told to remove your clothing because you knew what was going to happen in this room. He made that abundantly clear.
You crawl into the thick blankets, soft to the touch and luxurious in quality. Everything is off your body, well aside from your underwear. Asmodeus smiles, crawling after you and picking up your leg to kiss your ankle up to your calf. As he holds your foot against his cheek he looks at you lovingly, taking in the sight of you before he speaks again.
"I said I was going to make love to you, and I mean it..."
Your breath hitches as he pulls you forward, one leg propped up as he easily slides off the only garment left. He groans softly when he sees how ready you are, your sensitive parts swollen, glistening with arousal that had been building since he started kissing your neck.
He taps your hips, giving you the signal to flip over on your stomach. The moment you do, he bends down, his tongue sliding over your hole as he eats you out from the back. You arch your hips, the sudden sensation driving you wild. Between the flicks and kisses of his lips and tongue you're already a mess of pleasure and he keeps at it for a few moments, until he changes your position again.
You're on your back again, legs spread as he goes back down to continue running his tongue against your parts like he was starving. You could feel just how wet and slick his lips were, how his tongue dipped in and out of you as you try not to clench so early or it would send you past your peak. But he doesn't care, repeatedly hitting the same spot over and over until you come, the first of many the night would bring.
He changes your position once again, not done with you just yet. having your back rest against his chest, your head titled up to meet his gaze as he leans down to capture your mouth in a deep and passionate kiss. In the meanwhile, his long and slender fingers plunge into your quivering hole, pumping and curved against that sweet spot deep inside that he knew so well. He was slow, intentional and considerate, speeding up when you whimpered, slowing down when you were more focused on intertwining your tongue with his. He didn't stop until you gasped, moaning into his mouth to indicate another orgasm.
"I think you're ready for me, my love..."
With a soft smile and kiss on your forehead, he pushes you down face forward on the comforter, the part that wasn't covered in your fluids. He carefully brings up your hips, pressing the tip of his cock at your entrance as you wiggle against him to wordlessly beg for it. He gives you a playfully smack on the thigh, sliding into you, making sure every inch is felt.
His thrusts aren't like how they usual are, each stroke deep, with care his hips rolling and grinding like a sensual dance. There was even a point where he leaned over to kiss your back as he pressed further and stayed there just for a moment. You wish he'd stayed there forever as you cockwarmed him but he moves again which has you whimpering and moaning back to back.
"I want to see your face..."
The position changes again, both of your legs pressed back and your hips spread. All the time you'd hear about the "mating press" position and Asmodeus took this to heart. As he locked eyes with you, you swore he was thrusting into you so deeply that your insides were being rearranged. He'd lean down to take your lips again, the same deep-seated strokes that brought you to climax more times you could count.
It was like this all night, each position he'd switch you to was close, your body never leaving the comfort of his own if he could help it. There was a point when you were on your stomach again, but both of your arms were pinned against your back as he went wild, losing himself in the moment. The amount of times he had came were irrelevant to you because you were too drunk in your own ecstasy to notice.
It was only until the sun was shining through the window, your face against his chest as the two of you slept did you realize the night was over. You don't move, but your eyes look up at your lover surprised to see that he was asleep and not awake. He was mumbling in his sleep pulling you closer to him with no intent of letting go. And you had no intention of getting up either, your body and your energy spent with the lingering soreness of making love for hours. You didn't know how long he'd keep this up, but the change of pace made your heart full. Maybe, just maybe, you could do this forever.
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ready-to-read7 · 5 hours ago
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prompt #1
This is my first attempt at a prompt so I hope I do it well also to my followers that usually are here for my (x reader) content I'm taking a small break from that I might continue in the future but currently I want to do stuff related to my new favourite fandom hyper fixation a.k.a. Danny Phantom.
Okay so I really like the prompts where Dan or Dani are de-aged  and are like Danny's kids, and another concept I like that isn't as common is Danny being Bruce Wayne/Batman's half-brother or brother does not matter so in this situation Bruce finds out that he apparently has a half-brother somehow like one of his parents donated when they were younger probably before they had Bruce and without them knowing there was a successful result and that ended up with Danny because God knows that the Fenton's most likely with their crazy experiments would've eventually ended up not being able to have kids like they had jazz and then found out they weren't able to have another one even though they want another one and would end up having an implant baby ( I don't know what it's called and I'm not going to Google it )
so, Danny's born and raised by the Fenton's becomes half ghost and obviously after the entire timeline with the inclusion of reformed Vlad and Dan along with good Fenton parents,
clockwork for some reason the ages both of dan and Dani wiping most of their memories and Danny was probably like somewhere within his early to late 20s maybe even a bit older raises Dan and Dani
Bruce eventually he somehow finds out about Danny and is weirdly excited to have a sibling even if it's only half more specifically excited have a younger sibling since I'm not 100% sure how old Bruce is but I'm pretty sure he's way over his 20s he's definitely is going to be older than Danny, he tells Alfred but for some reason he forgets to tell his children and he starts talking to Danny after getting in contact with him Danny is obviously sceptical or shocked and asks his parents they tell him the truth, explaining that he was technically like an implant baby (once again I have no idea what it actually is called) and he decides to get to know his half-brother they talk over the phone quite often Danny at one point also introduces Dan and Dani to Bruce and Bruce would tell him about his kids, Danny obviously being shocked at the amount of kids Bruce has but loves getting to hear about them
and at one point Bruce offers to fly Danny in both his kids over for them to actually meet, Danny would agree but once again Bruce what for some reason within his joy he forgets to tell his kids so during Bruce and Danny’s meet up Alfred leads Danny to one of the bathrooms and at that moment as Bruce is watching his nephew and niece most of Bruce's kids would walk in with varying reactions but all of them would think that Bruce had adopted two more kids and Bruce would be struggling to explain to them that they aren't his kids and all of this would only be resolved after Danny came back from the bathroom
(I was actually really nervous to write my first prompt but I think it turned out well)
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lay-z · 3 days ago
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tw: self-shipping; self-indulgent; cnc; dark/possessive!Simon (I guess); unprotected sex
The air is thick and stuffy in the small bedroom, though it's more a storage room than anything, really. There's just a worn-out cot with a thin mattress and a pillow, and a bedside table, right below the small, dirty, and curtainless window.
And I'm both grateful and pissed that my teammates urged me to take the only room with a functional bed in the whole, shabby safe house while they're forced to be content with the dirty floor in the living room again. Pissed that they keep prioritising my comfort over theirs, simply because I'm the only woman on the squad.
And grateful, because now I can at least pretend they can't hear me getting pounded into oblivion by our Lieutenant.
"Gotta keep it down, hm? Sweet girl, shhh " His voice isn't soft, isn't reassuring. I know he's smiling smugly underneath his mask, holding all the power in this moment, still fully clothed and in full gear while the only patch of exposed skin is currently balls deep inside my quivering cunt, no barrier between us.
Ghost had me undressed within a minute after slipping into the small bedroom with me; the withered door had barely creaked before it was closed again, and then, his dooming shadow was looming over me.
"Jus' a quick one, sweet'eart," he'd purred against my temple, voice muffled by his skull balaclava while he pulled my tac shirt off. "Need to feel ya. Jus' the tip, promise."
A blatant lie, that one.
As much as Ghost tried and succeeded in sneaking away from our teammates and slipping into my small safe haven of privacy, it does feel like he is currently making sure that everyone understands what is going on in here.
He lets out the most whorish, guttural groan when his thick cock sinks into my sopping cunt and bottoms out after letting me adjust while I'm presented all prettily for him on all fours.
I feel feverish, flushed. I'm sweating, hair sticking to the nape of my neck while I'm dripping with sticky arousal between my thighs.
The cot squeaks and creaks dangerously underneath our weight with each powerful thrust of his hips. My body jolts, my inner walls ripple around his fat cock while his balls slap against my wet flash, and I'm forced down on my elbows, barely able to muffle my cry of pleasure as I bury my face into the old pillow below me, eyes squeezing shut with ragged breaths.
He huffs a low chuckle behind me while one of his gloved hands releases its grip on my waist to trace the bowed arch of my back with his knuckles instead, all while he keeps rocking his hips in a slow yet harsh pace that leaves the fat of my plump ass jiggling with each thrust, thick cockhead nudging too deeply against my cervix.
"Fuckin' hell," Ghost curses sharply, chest rumbling with a low groan as he grips the nape of my neck and pushes my face further down into the pillow. "Wha' did I say, huh?" He grabs one of my ass cheeks and squeezes hard. "Keep those sweet fuckin' noises down. They're only f'me."
I whimper into the pillow when he smacks my ass cheek; cold leather leaving my skin stinging while my body quakes with mounting pleasure. I'm barely able to breathe and my face gets hotter while I'm trying to get enough air in, though I'm struggling like I'm doing breaststroke in a pool.
"Touch yerself f'me. Wanna feel ya squeeze my fuckin' cock, bunny." His hand around my nape tightens and my blood starts rushing in my ears; it gets even harder to breath.
I slip a hand between my thighs and squeeze my sticky flesh with a high-pitched whimper before rubbing my swollen clit while he keeps up his languid pace.
It's too hot, too much, and I'm getting lightheaded while the pleasure intensifies and tightens inside my lower belly; licking up my spine tauntingly and making my toes curl as my wanton moans and dumb gibberish are muffled by the pillow. Thank God.
Ghost doesn't need to hear me moan his name; doesn't need to hear me begging him to let me come.
"Fuck, tha's right," he grunts, his pace picking up as his mammoth hands find purchase on my plush hips again; strong fingers digging into the fat. "Gonna cum 'nd'm not gonna pull out."
I cry out and bite into the tattered pillow, drool soaking into the flimsy fabric as my climax sneaks up on me, mind numbing and intense, and I push back into his thrusts while my pussy clenches and flutters, triggering his own release.
Ghost is nearly silent when he comes, but his breath stutters and catches in his buff chest and his fingers dig painfully before his warm, thick cum paints my velvety walls full enough to dribble out and onto the sheets while he keeps grinding his hips, milking both our orgasms for all they're worth.
His large hands start roaming, caressing, groping whatever they can reach as I collapse onto the squeaky mattress, breathing heavily while my heart rate and body temperature normalise again.
He gives my ass a few gentle pats before he pulls out, making me whine at the sudden loss of his softening prick. "Good girl," he praises gruffly as he tucks himself back into his cargo pants. "My sweet girl."
A dopey grin tugs on my lips, one that I'm keen to hide from him as I slump onto the mattress and nuzzle my face back into the pillow.
His hands keep roaming, fingertips trailing along my flushed skin. "Not gonna ask me to stay, eh?" Ghost taunts quietly, though there is no bite to his words, more longing than nothing, actually. We both know he can't stay.
A sudden sharp knock at the door cuts through the tranquility.
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siriuslygay1981 · 10 hours ago
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Sigh....moonkiller
Remus walking through the dark halls just a bit before the moon is supposed to be up. He usually takes a walk before heading down to the shrieking shack.
Bumping into a disgruntled Barty, whose bloody and bruised, a small lump in his step. Barty is quick to pull back, a snarl on his lips and his fist reared back and ready to collide with remus' face. Remus catches his fist and looks down at him. Of course, so close to the moon his eyes are this eerie yellow that look as if they're glowing in the dark.
Remus' grip isn't painful, just firm enough that Barty would struggle to get out of it. Remus can smell the fear off of Barty, though heavily covered by his anger and pain. Afraid that he's scaring Barty he steps around him, letting go of his hand and walks off.
Barty, who just got beat up because he's gay, (and is always starting shit) bumping into Remus right after. He's not sure if Remus is a part of the group that just jumped him or not so of course he's prepared to deck him. So when the lanky boy walks away of course Barty is a bit confused.
From then on its like they're destined to meet at inconvenient moments. Anytime barty's just got his ass handed to him, an embarrassing amount of times, he just has to bump into Remus soon after.
And Remus, anytime he's alone or when the moon is full and he's taking his stroll, he bumps into Barty.
The next time they bump into each other Remus asks if he's ok, and Barty tells him to keep his nose out of his business. Remus doesn't ask again but he does bring chocolate for Barty to have on those days he has a black eye, bruised ribs, a broken nose.
They never really thought of one another before that but they soon realized their snark and sarcasm were compatible. Often when their comments would get too mean it seemed as if they were close to being at each other's throats. But when Barty says "if you were my dog I'd shave your ass and make you walk backwards." Remus Cant help but choke on a laugh.
"I'm jealous of everyone who hasn't met you b." Remus would smirk back
And it was fine, them hanging out...until the tension would get too much. After every insult, inching closer together, faux anger at first that turned to real anger. The tension between them making them lash out at the other for different reasons.
Was Remus serious about him? Or was he fucking with Barty? Was Remus gay or just experimenting?
And Barty, was he making fun of Remus? Did he just want to be near him because he was dangerous? Did he even like Remus or was he just looking for someone to fuck?
So they would take it out on each other, which just made things worse, the tension getting higher. It got so bad that they were physically at each other's throats. Snipping comments in the halls, taunting tones and harsh words. The jealousy was bubbling, the tension ready to snap. All's it takes is a flirty comment from one Sirius black and Barty is shoving Remus into a broom closet.
Teeth clanking, biting lips, hair pulling, in fact everyone who walks near the cupboard runs away quickly. It sounds like a feral bear tearing up the room.
They knock over everything, bump into walls, crash to the floor. And their hands are everywhere, under shirts, tugging belts off. Barty has Remus under his hands and he's not going to let him get away so easily.
Remus just can't have that though, can't have Barty think he's in control now...
So they tumble around the room, rolling over and struggling for dominance, it isn't until remus' hand wraps around barty's throat, his knee putting pressure between barty's legs, that Barty goes slack for just a second. And as Remus licks a stripe up the side of his neck, Barty shudders.
Barty doesn't go down without a fight, his hands tugging at remus' hair, sliding down his chest and scratching his back, arching up and kissing him hungrily.
It's tongue and teeth, jealousy and anger mixed in with their need for one another.
Anyways they fuck nasty about it
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moregraceful · 1 day ago
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made it one (1) cookie into christmas day cookie baking without a standmixer before i went this cannot stand, and now i have had my finger on the launch button of my shopping cart on the kitchenaid website for 45 minutes. an interesting thing about me is i will buy a customized jersey for $250+ without thinking twice, but then i look at a kitchenaid stand mixer and i'm like no i couldn't POSSIBLY...it is EXTRAVAGANT... even though a stand mixer will easily get more use on a consistent basis than um. z.ach h.yman leafs jersey. &tc
livejournal posting on the microblogging website
having a very nice christmas so far. i am spending it alone and earlier this week i spent about 10 minutes feeling sorry for myself about it, and then said WHAT the fuck am i doing. to wake up on christmas morning and not want to kill myself is going to be the greatest gift. and made a plan to make cookies and a sheet pan dinner that my family hates but that i love. and you know what, i did not wake up and feel like ending it all, and even though i am having immense cookie struggles, i feel better than i have in years. i like building traditions. it's fun.
talked to my sister and her husband this morning and while i always feel better about everything after talking to them, today was especially nice because her husband got on the phone whipped the fuck about their neighbor's kid or kids hiding musical instruments on their property. he was like you've worked extensively with teenagers, PLEASE explain why a teenager would do something this bizarre. and it's nice when i can be of help to them these days bc they spent so much of winter and spring trying to convince me not to gaslight myself into thinking any of it was normal or survivable. it's nice to be like, ok now i am in a safe space so i can offer my infinite wisdom. also very funny to be the teenager whisperer of the family. the three of us worked through the issue and landed on a solution that didn't involve my sister's husband narcing on the kid to their very strict and religious parents about instrument-playing lol. and that made me feel good bc we are several thousand miles away from each other but we're still very present in each other's lives.
i don't know it's being christian or if it's just spending a lot of years way too drunk on new year's eve to hashtag cope and waking up on jan 1 hungover as hell like goddammit not this shit (being alive) again. but this year christmas day feels like more of the start of a new year. i think about goal-setting and trying new things to inhabit my life more vividly and today feels like more of a place to start. like the light is here and i am too etc. this is a long-winded way saying that my 2025 goal is to take more pictures bc while i do love to live in the moment, i DON'T love that i have next to no pictures of the people i love or the things that i have enjoyed seeing or the creations i have made. not to be a Instagram Poster, but it's like i would love to remember what my internet friends' faces look like. or that cool rock i saw in someone's yard... i don't have to always live in the moment about rocks and friends it's ok to be like, i am enjoying this moment and i want simple proof that it existed beyond my memory.
and i have just tried both cookies i made and they are both very strange experiences that did not really spark joy so i am going to stare intently at the kitchenaid site for another hour
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penvisions · 1 day ago
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i'd give anything for more time {jack daniels x f! reader}
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Pairing: Jack Daniels x F! Reader (Retired! Agent Whiskey x F! Reader)
Summary: He's nowhere, not really. Stuck in the ambient space of a random coffee shop. Doesn't know what he's looking for, until you walk in.
Word Count: 2k
Warnings: angst, yearning, mild language, kissing, time loop weirdness, mentions of heath issues, grief
A/N: i'm gonna be real with y'all, i....struggled with this. had something FAR more angsty outlined for the role-a-trope challenge the moment i got the trope assigned to me. but i'm tired and wanted something a little more happy and this was the result. i hope this is kinda on point @burntheedges. mine was time loop / groundhog day with jack daniels and man i hope i did it justice after all this time!! cause i know this is hella late and i apologize for that
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The coffee shop is bustling, the grinding of beans, the buzz of many voices, the dings and mechanical sounds of the register, of the phones in people’s hands, music over speakers, the steam want of an espresso machine working away.
And Jack is standing in the middle of it all, for what feels like the millionth time.
He’s not real, at least…he doesn’t think he’s real.
The first few times he was here, it seemed like he just appeared amidst the hustle and bustle of a weekday morning. He’s confused, he was just in the middle of a meeting. Asking if he wanted to pick up a job even though he’s retired. He faintly remembers an argument. All heated words and half responses that had turned into forlorn words. His tall legs carrying him out of a door, out of an entryway lined with frames photos and art, a colorful catchall dish by the door containing keys. He had dug them into his palm as the door closed behind him, he looks at it now though there are no marks or redness.
He had left something behind, someone behind. Even if he can’t recall their figure or face.
All he knows is the hectic space he occupies now. Though even when he stands in line to order, resigned to the task he’s spaced out in the middle of doing, he feels like it’s familiar too. No one seems to care that he’s in line, they walk in front of him like he’s not even there. But he lets it go, mind busy with trying to reclaim the events that led him here.
The job he had taken doesn’t even register, he’s unaware if this is a part of it. Staking out, searching for someone, searching for information. He has no clue how he got here, why he’s here or why the cheery barista behind the counter doesn’t seem to hear him when he saunters up to the register to finally place his order.
She steadfastly ignores him, even as he leans over the counter and tips the hat atop his head. He’s in his typical ‘blend in with the civilians’ outfit, tight jeans, nice dark boots that match his leather jacket over a plain white shirt. His amber sunglasses hang from his collar and his belt buckle clinks against the edge of the marble as he leans closer.  His smile falters as she sees right through him and begins to talk to the woman behind him. Easily taking her order and then moving onto the person behind her.
Shoving off from the counter with a frown, he raises a hand to thumb at his bottom lip. Stretching a hand over the small partition between the display case and the public, he snags a pastry. But no words of ‘hey, sir you’ve got to pay for that!’ or other reprimands color the air.
He wanders around the shop, looking for someone out of place. Looking for someone who could be undercover like him. But everything is normal. Everything down to the minutes ticking by on the large clock, the to go cups placed on the pick up counter and then being swept away by impatient hands to the conversations that he begins to sift through with almost burning ears.
Everything is normal.
Except for the fact that he’s invisible.
Just as suddenly as he found himself in the coffee shop, his vision faded, and he was gone from it too.
-
He tries talking to different people, each time he opens his eyes from the abyss that claims him. But no one ever responds, no one acknowledges that he’s a real living and breathing person. And Jack begins to question if he even is anymore…surely he would know if he experienced a painful death as an agent on a mission?
He’s retired now, he thinks so at least. He doesn’t recall anything recent, nothing beyond the countless times he emerges from darkness to find himself in the middle of the coffee shop. This time though, when he realizes where he is there’s a pull in his navel that has him turning on his heels to face the door just as you walk through. Remnants of a heated interaction flare in his memory and he grasps at the tendrils before they fade. But he’s too slow or a loud noise interrupts and sends him spinning in that direction in alarm.
His heart flutters fast, almost painful. His chest twinging in a way a cramped muscle would even as he sees you approach.
“Excuse me, are you in line?” Your voice is sweet like honey, welcoming and making him feel at ease like a soft breeze of air on a summer’s day. He looks around and expects someone else to answer but you repeat the question with a note of concern and when you’re hand reached out to gently touch his he startles- because he can feel the pressure from your touch.
And he’s gaping at you, because finally, someone is acknowledging him.
He shakes his head, unable to form a polite answer and gestures for you to go ahead of him.
“Oh, it’s alright. You look a little off, how about I order with you, and we can have a sit?”
The way your eyes rake over him has his entire body lighting up- you’re gorgeous and sweet and he wants nothing more than to do exactly what you’re suggesting. As you two order, he keeps glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. Wary that this is all fleeting, and he was right to worry because as soon as you both settle into a set of chairs around a table everything fades once again.
-
It happens again and again, the same way. But you look different each time. Different clothing, different hair styling, despite the conversation being the same. Someone who sees him and offers a kind smile and help towards someone who appears far too confused and out of place.
Then one day he notices the wrinkles beside your eyes, the dark circles beneath them. The weight you drop and the chapped, chewed state of your lips. A once polished and bright woman, now appearing ragged and stressed. He decides to ask if you’re okay the next time he comes to consciousness in the coffee shop, but you don’t show up. He’s back to being invisible and loss pangs harshly in his chest.
-
He doesn’t materialize in the coffee shop after that, the scene he’s damned to visit every day the same entry way he had first recalled what seems ages ago. For what seems like years before his steps allow him to cross over into an empty bedroom. It always feels wrong, the blurred photos along the walls tugging at him though they never clear enough for him to see what they depict. He thinks he can make out the faint outline of you, so fresh from his memory in the coffee shop, the same interaction time and time again drilled into him though it doesn’t do a think to take him back there and see you.
How the way he seems to exist altered the moment he wanted to change things up and reach out, to ensure you were okay. He feels less real now that no one is in this setting, a home that feels anything but. Echoes of a life lived and tainted by a dark feeling he can’t shake.
He's allowed to peel back the covers of the bed this time, his body taking up the space in the bed like he belongs there. The other side cold and empty haunting him. He's grateful to be able to softly snooze off instead of darkness consuming him to end the moment.
-
He’s afraid to open his eyes, to see the empty bed beside him. A lonesome reprieve he had settled into the last time he was aware of himself. He had woken peacefully, of his own accord and it was a blessing to not suddenly find himself standing amid blurred photos and a dark entryway.
But he can hear the soft breathing of someone else, can almost feel the weight of their body as it’s almost close enough to touch his own. He’s shifting, eyes flying open and all he feels is euphoria as he sees you fast asleep beside him.
Your face scrunches up, nose wrinkling and hands coming up from underneath covers to rub at your cheeks and forehead. An eye peeks at him from underneath one and he swears his heart stutters.
“How many times I gotta tell you to stop starin’ at me?”
“Couldn’t help it, you’re as beautiful as a fresh morning bathed in early sun.” The warm words spring from him, praise very much real and his fingers itch to reach for you.
“Pfft, Jack.” You groan, though there’s no real annoyance in your tone. It’s bashful, if anything. But its far too early for his poetic waxing, you haven’t even checked the time yet. But based on the darkness behind the curtains, there’s hours yet until its time to rise for the day. Your thoughts stall as he slides across the bed. Arms tangling tightly around your middle and pulling you into him.
“Roll your eyes all you want, but it’s true.” He’s determined for you to know, to hear, to feel seen by him.
“Such a goddamn sap.”
“Yeah,” He breathes, the smile that breaks out over your face making his chest feel light. He recalls the feeling when you had first made eye contact with him in the middle of the coffee shop and warmth blooms in his chest.
The endless cycle of his dreams that give him vertigo and existential dread quickly fading from his mind as he realizes that’s all they were: dreams. Because he’s here with you and the scar you trace over in the center of his chest tells him that it was all a side effect of the sudden palpitations that had taken over his heart and the way his body coped with the healing he struggled to do afterwards.
He had indeed met you in that coffee shop, his mind taking him back to that moment again and again as he had laid in a bed for months, a coma taking his consciousness after an infection settled into his body. His mind trying to ease him in some twisted way as you sat by his bedside day in and day out. He can only imagine the turmoil you must’ve experienced as everything comes rushing back to him, dizzying him with the onslaught of out of body experiences and how you must’ve felt so lost and confused without him by your side.
But he’s here now, you’re here now and he’s dropping his lips to yours in reassurance when he sees concern fill yours at his solemn recognition of the situation. He's determined to be present, to be aware, and to shower you with everything he had to make up for the time he lost with you.
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carmisse · 2 days ago
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Of Fëanáro and his grandchildren
He found it both delightful and strange to watch the scene unfold in front of his person.
He had only recently been brought back to life, pushed out of the halls of Mandos by their master himself. That only turned out to be the easy part, he still had to face his now ex-wife, Nerdanel, as well as his seven children who he was sure would have a lot to say to him.
Although there were also, and may the Valar save him by clemency, Ñolofinwë and Arafinwë.
It turned out to be a long period that he had to face, and yet he was, for the most part, excused. Although he understood if any member of his family refused to speak to him or even to be in the same room with him. However, he was now very selfishly enjoying the moment that was happening.
Erenion was chatting with young Elurin.
The platinum-haired younger twin was learning the art of public speaking and it was the son of Findekano and Maitamo who had offered to teach him if the prince agreed. The king of the Noldor in Middle-earth seemed to have a lot of patience, perhaps inherited from Ñolofinwë's side of the family or also from Nelyo himself, this while Elurín was trying to leave his nervousness behind, he would soon debut as spokesman of the recently constituted house of Fëanáro.
On the other side of the room, Eluréd was polishing his bow made of oak, Lindir was tuning his harp and for a moment he was able to see Makalaurë with Tyelkormo when they had barely left childhood many ages ago. Turcafinwë's protégé hummed the melody happily while Kano's offspring improvised a few sweet notes that caused an enjoyment in tune.
Crossing the threshold of the door, the first of his grandchildren entered with a pile of scrolls in his arms, Tyelperinquar had a smile on his face that he had struggled to recover after having fallen by the hand of Morgoth's stag. He looked jovial and innocent, beaming as he regained his joy, I was really happy for him.
"I'm of the opinion that you should sleep first before starting on your interesting projects."
Erestor's familiar voice manifested itself in the hall. Tyelpe laughed nervously under the gaze of the counselor who had his attention on the documents brought by his older cousin. He was surprised by the closeness of the young men's driving, Erestor seemed to bring Tyelpe back when the latter was closed in his projects, while the blacksmith pushed the younger one to have fun outside with him.
"Are you all right, Haru?”
At his side, Elrond questioned. He readily attended, took his grandson's hand and smiled. He had helped too many members of his family three times condemned, Maitamo and Makalaurë loved him, he himself loved him. The peredhel smiled back, he just held his hand.
"I'm home, that's all."
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tiyawnyana · 2 days ago
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Hi love! I was the one who asked for the jealous Caitlyn over Vi dynamic . And I wanted to tell you that it was WONDERFUL 🤌✨ I adored what you wrote ommmgggg!! What a great talent you haveee!!
Having Gert in the story was genius. Everything felt so cannon and accurate, even the personality of the characters. Just perfect! *chef kiss*
Can I ask for one more?🙈 : what happened while Vi was unconscious after the explosion … how did she got to Caitlyn’s bed? How did her hair turned pink again and got other clothes? Did Cait slept by her side… or yearned for her, after not seeing her for so long? *I can’t breatheeeee*
I love youuuuu. This feels like a Christmas gift 🎁
With love
— 🌼
Ahhhh thank you for another amazing submission!!! I'm sosos glad you enjoyed the first one 🌼
A/N: Sorry if this one feels a little rushed, I rewatched episode 8 so many times to try and get the angle right (also bc I have an addiction to this show)
Characters: Caitlyn Kiramman x Vi, Jinx mentioned
Warnings: nothing really
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Gentle are the Hands
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”Careful with her-!” Caitlyn shouts at the enforcers who drag Vi in through the front door of the Kiramman household.
Her father is bounding down the stairs, alarmed as he frantically looks between her and Vi, and now as more enforcers drag Jinx in.
“What happened, Caitlyn?” Her father cups her shoulders, worry written in his brow.
She nods to him,”I promise- I’ll explain later, father-“
She looks back to Jinx- her pink eyes are wide, dried blood beneath her nose and tears having dried down her cheeks as her bloodshot gaze follows her unconscious sister being dragged up the stairs. She manages to escape the enforcers grip, darting up the stairs and following where her sister was being dragged.
They try to follow but Caitlyn raises her hand, nodding to them to wait, and follows them up the stairs.
“Third door on the right,” she commands, eyes watching Jinx as she almost numbly walks through the hall, then into her room.
When Vi is unceremoniously dumped onto the bed, earning a glare from Caitlyn, Jinx sinks to her knees. Seemingly, all fight leaving her body- her soul.
Caitlyn is hesitant, stepping in before looking at the enforcers. They’re already taking out their cuffs and gripping her biceps, cuffing her.
She watches as they drag her out of the room, then she quickly moves to stand in the doorway,”Put her in the eastern wing of the prison-“
They nod as they bring her down the hall, leaving her sight.
She’s turning around, quickly moving over to Vi, face smushed into her bed before she’s quickly rolling her over onto her back.
There’s blood seeping through some of the bandages wrapping around her chest, causing a brief moment of panic before she’s calling for her father for help.
He brings the medical kit, showing her how to do stitches as she insists before she’s quickly ushering him out.
He lingers in the doorway for a moment, a slight face of shock as he watches her frantically bandage up the undercity girl.
Caitlyn manages to stitch up Vi’s side, cutting part of the ace bandages off to gain access before she hesitates, new bandage hovering over Vi’s ribs.
Her gaze locks on the tender skin, reminded of when she had hurt her all those months ago- a slight sting builds up behind her eyes, tears pooling into her eyes.
Nothing but pure guilt is all she feels, her hands shaky as she carefully touches the inflamed skin.
“I’m-“ she struggles to speak,”I’m so sorry-“ Her voice cracks softly.
She sniffles, shaking her head to get out of that as she presses the bandage over Vi’s ribs, jumping as the girl winces, a cringe in her face.
She leans closer, thumb pressing into the center of Vi’s brow, soothing the skin and sighing as her face relaxes. Her gaze and touch lingers, trailing over her eyebrow then tracing over the tattoo on her cheek, then to the bruise.
“Oh, Violet..” Her voice is soft, almost muted. Her hand gently cups Vi’s face, smoothing over the skin of her cheek. Her gaze moves over her hair, a frown forming on her lips with a light, huffed out scoff. She brushes the hair back, noting the residue dye collecting on her knuckles and spotting the pink roots growing in.
Caitlyn sighs softly, sitting up and leaving the room only to return with some towels and a bucket that she has filled with warm water from her bath.
Her hands are careful as she sits Vi up against her, tugging off that leather jacket carefully then cutting off the bandages wrapping her chest, quickly covering her chest with a towel as she turns her around in the bed, head leaned over the edge.
It’s an awkward moment of adjusting, dragging over a small stool and another set of towels before she’s carefully rinsing through Vi’s hair.
The water goes dark, that ridiculous dye in the pink strands slowly dripping out. She finds a quiet comfort in this- her hands gentle and caring as she gently massages some hair oils in the strands and scalp.
When she’s finished, she carefully runs her fingers through any knots and dries her hair best she can before lifting the bucket and leaving it in the hallway to deal with later, off to rummage through any spare clothes she may have before she settles on a tank top.
She crosses back to the bed, twisting Vi’s back around in the bed and careful to not ogle anything- lifting her and having her limp body lean against her as she tugs the top over her head and arms, securing it over her chest before laying her back down and her eyes catch on her belts.
A frown forms again as she eyes the former badge, now just the holder, Vi had worn when she was an enforcer for a brief period all those months ago. She sighs sadly, but finishes dressing Vi and secures the shirt beneath her pants then moves her up on the pillows and tugs the blankets up, covering her.
She almost hovers, hesitating and almost leaves the room but ultimately stays. Instead, she grabs more pillows and lays down beside Vi.
She’s quiet, taking in the unconscious girl's side profile. Her hand reaches out, carefully taking Vi’s hand in hers and gently brushing her thumb over the bruised knuckles, then lifts her hand to press soft kisses over the skin. Her touch lingers, kissing repeatedly before she scoots closer to hold over Vi's bicep, forehead pressed against her shoulder.
She dozes off like that, careful with her hold even in her sleep.
She sleeps better than she has in months, even if only for a short while.
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A/N: thank you again for the submission :)) I pictured this as softer, pure comfort and poorly masked longing
It is probably fast paced tho 😭
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brucestalia · 2 days ago
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give me morally complex antiheroes and star-crossed lovers any day ∘₊✧
✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ what draws me to brutalia is the endless back-and-forth between them—it's painful, yet it’s the kind of pull that you can’t help but get lost in, canon be damned.
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look at them! they're meant to be. they're so endgame. they're married, they're divorced, they're everything.
while i'm not opposed to batman x literally anyone else, the reason i love this ship in particular is because it isn't the usual "i can fix him" dynamic (unlike some portrayals of other love interests). instead, it's more like, "oh damn, did i make him worse? aha...."
similarly, it’s not "i can fix her" either. he doesn't need to fix her—they share the same core morals (unlike, cough cough, catwoman).
now, this isn't to say i dislike the other ladies bruce is often paired with. i just think they all have better options.
exhibit a: wonder woman a platonic relationship between bruce and diana is a fantastic representation of a healthy male-female friendship. diana and steve are an adorable, enduring couple, and in some distant-future timeline, i could even see her with clark. but diana and bruce? they're just a completely serious version of "comrade."
on that note, i would kill to see bruce and steve bond over being hopelessly in love with their respective immortal-warrior-princesses. also, in the most idealistic of circumstances, diana and talia would probably get along quite well.
exhibit b: catwoman i cannot put into words how much i adore catwoman. but the one thing i can’t fully get behind is batcat (okay, i don't hate it, i'm just being dramatic haha). batcat is essentially a decades-long booty call—a situationship, if you will. my girl selina deserves better! with bruce, she can never truly embrace being fully on the other side of the law.
a new challenger enters the arena! wait, is that...?
yes, it’s batwoman, aka kate kane. now, hear me out.
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catwoman: hunted was where i first really noticed this pairing. it could work! it’s been well-established that batwoman is its own mantle, not just a female counterpart to batman. kate also doesn’t struggle with the same moral dilemmas her cousin does.
okay, i don’t really know how this evolved into a kate x selina post, but hey, every good relationship needs a third wheel that sometimes comes with a fourth wheel, right?
dc comics bombshells is another great source for this! i'll just leave a few moments down here :)
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what i'm getting at is that i'd love to see a universe where talia isn’t constantly being pitted against every woman in bruce’s life. zatanna is a story for another day, but the others—silver st. cloud, vicki vale, nocturna, or whatever lady tickles the writer’s fancy—always felt circumstantial to me. ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦✦•┈๑⋅⋅๑┈•✦
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