#this is so important for the way she reads

[beardedjoel]

indebted

dark!joel x f!reader. one shot.

main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: you're having a bad day. one you think is getting better once a rough around the edges man comes to your rescue. you didn't expect it would takes such a sharp turn for the worse. first person pov reader. 9.2k words.

warnings: 18+ MDNI! DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT! NON CONSENUAL SEXUAL ACTS, READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION, pervy, sleazy, and foul mouthed joel. degradation, sexual favors, forced oral and piv, virgin reader, corruption, innocence, and daddy kinks featured. biiig ol' age gap (reader's age not mentioned other than "young" but i imagine her as 18-20 as she has a relatively immature attitude, imagining joel 50-55), this is not for everyone and that's okay. i'm not responsible for the content you consume.

a/n: i had some hormonal induced insanity and came up with this. i had a great time trying out a new pov for writing fic! enjoy him as much as i did, friends 🖤 and thanks @joelstummy for the amazing freaky beta work!

I’ll be the first person to admit now that what I’ve been doing is stupid. Dangerous. Idiotic. The list goes on. I can hear my father’s stern, militant voice in the back of my head, telling me as much. Except now he likely won’t get the chance to relish in it because I’m going to die here. Way out here where nobody will find my body, and I’ll be just another person that went missing in the QZ, never to be seen again. But this time, it’s not some sleazy FEDRA scheme and coverup or a smuggling deal gone wrong.

It’s utterly and completely my fault.

Sneaking out wasn’t meant to become a habit, but after the first few times, I lost the fear and adrenaline that had burned hot through my veins at those first steps of freedom. I craved it again, so I kept going further. And further. Away from civilization as I knew it, until the cluster of buildings known as the Quarantine Zone became a tiny speck in the distance. Out here was desolation, nothingness, only abandoned buildings to explore. The infected were another story, but I started to learn routes that helped me avoid encounters with them.

It helped clear my mind after a while, this newly found sense of adventure. All I’d ever known was a cage, a walled city that had become so mundane I felt my insides starting to rot from the listlessness of it all. My father was important - top in the rankings - I knew that, and it was all the more reason to keep me safely locked away while the city stirred with chatter of an uprising against FEDRA. 

He never bothered to check on me much, anyways, making my little forays quite easy. Once I’d persuaded enough people with ration cards, they’d shown me the tunnel leading to freedom. Well, that tunnel, then another, a ladder to climb back up to the surface, and only then could I go through a precarious hole in a chain link fence. That was the smuggler’s route, they said, an easy ticket to getting in and out without being noticed. 

I’d been abusing it, staying out for days at a time, never able to drink in enough of this quiet solitude that was of my own choosing, not my father’s. I couldn’t quite figure out what hole inside of me I was trying to fill, but I’d be damned if I stopped trying.

However, today seemed to be my last chance to try at all. His footsteps had been quiet - so quiet - approaching behind me. An old store, full of half decayed plushies, molded candies, and other adorable things from lives long put in the past, had called to me, distracted me. The arm around my throat, constricting, the other coming up to put a hand over my mouth. A dirty, putrid smell encompassing everything as I sputtered against him. This is it, I’d thought. What a waste.

I scream and fight against the strong hold he has on me, a nasty sneer right against my skin. “What’s some fresh meat like you doing waaaay out here, huh?” a dark voice rattles into my ear.

I scream behind his dirty palm in response, kicking my legs back at him. I should have learned more self defense, but who needs it when you’ve spent most of your life safely tucked away with your family name as your biggest protector?

“You smell good… real good…” The creep’s voice buzzes by me as he takes a deep breath in, making me shudder. One swift kick and I’m sure this is it, the one to knock him senseless and let me escape. He’s smart for how distracted he seems to be by my scent, and he’s one step ahead of me. My legs are kicked out from underneath me as I rear one back, and I fall to the ground, the man coming down with me to sit on my back, straddling my body in a fluid motion. He grips my hands behind my back, leaving me helpless in my fight, kicking and screaming. I’m ice and heat all at once, my body burning in a frozen blaze, my fight or flight quickly turning to fawn as his weight presses down on me.

“You can have anything in my backpack, anything! Please, let me go! I - I don’t want any trouble,” I choke out pathetically, hating how my voice comes out in shaky waves. This isn’t how to appeal to people like this, people who have lost their sense of humanity, evident by the way he’s now grinding himself down onto my jean clad asscheeks. 

A laugh comes out of him that would haunt me as evil incarnate for the rest of my days if I wasn’t so sure that I was going to die at the hands of this man after he was done with me. “We both know I don’t give a fuck about any damn backpack of yours. I don’t want any trouble either, sweet cheeks, I just think you’d have a lot of fun with me and my friends. But mostly me,” he replies with the hint of a wink in his voice. 

My stomach clenches, sickness rolling in that is only furthered as the man leans down, cloaking me with his large form. I can’t turn enough to see him, to even know what this violation of a man looks like, but his energy is beyond hideous as I catch a glimpse of his yellowing teeth in a grin before he pushes my head down to the cracked linoleum tiles. My hair tangled in his fingers, he holds me down hard, and I struggle to breathe as he crushes me beneath him.

“Now, are you gonna come easily, or do I need to do things the hard way? Either way is fine with me, for a fine piece of ass like this. In fact, I might prefer it the hard way, but we’d hate to ruin this pretty skin of yours, wouldn’t we?” He says slowly, pressing the cold blade of a knife to my throat.

“O-okay, okay,” I acquiesce, stopping my squirming, just needing a bit of room to breathe, my lungs heavy inside my chest. My panic only makes my chest tighter, even when the man leans back the tiniest bit. I had hoped that my sudden compliance would get that knife off my throat, but it hasn’t. “Just don’t hurt me… please…” I whimper.

He lets out a long, ragged sigh. “Afraid I can’t promise that.” 

I’ve never felt fear like this, such certainty that I was about to be ruined, my life as I know it changing without a chance to even look back. I squeeze my eyes shut and brace for it, for anything he’s about to do next, finally accepting that there isn’t any appealing to scummy men in a scummy world. But nothing comes except for a muffled crack ringing through the air, and then a thud as the entire weight of my adversary falls on top of me, crushing. Something warm has splattered on my skin, my face, then starts to coat my jacket, seeping through. I shake violently, begging my body to catch a full breath under the weight of him. 

Then as suddenly as it happened, it stops, the body yanked off of me and tossed to the side with ease. The deafening thud of his entire weight onto the ground is stark. I flip over and scramble backwards, grabbing the knife that had fallen from the man’s hand in his swift, final moment. Holding up a shaky hand, I grip the knife tightly, looking up to face a brutish, tall man with overgrown hair of chestnut and gray. A trim beard with the same coloring wraps around his tightly set jaw. He’s all wide shoulders, thick arms, broad chest, and my senses go on high alert again. His gun is practically still smoking as it hangs at his side, an active threat.

“Y’alright?” he drawls, thick and deep, echoing through the abandoned shop. One step closer to me has the knife practically flailing as I struggle to calm my hands, a strained hum alongside my shaky breathing the only sound I seem capable of making.

“Put that thing down,” he says calmly, almost exasperated. His stance slackens, one knee pushed out as he sizes me up. I’m likely the most miserable looking thing he’s seen in a while, I’m sure. “You’re harmless.”

“H-how do I know you’re not with him?” I blurt out.

My gruff savior lifts his brows incredulously. “That guy?” he asks, motioning impatiently to the dead body only a foot away. “Think I’d be puttin’ a bullet right in his skull if he was my best buddy?”

My eyes dance over him as I think. He has a point, and he did just save me from whatever debauched things that stranger’s mind had been conjuring up.

“Y-yeah, you have a point,” I finally say. He steps closer, and this time, I let him, putting the knife down. He motions with an authoritarian air for me to push it away, and I obey immediately, flinging it across the room. 

“Poor fucker died with a hard on, didn’t he?” The man muses as his boots thud on the way over to the body, kicking it slightly as if to check, letting it roll back before turning his attention on me. “Now, are you usually this stupid, comin’ into hunter territory, or what?” he asks, reaching a hand down to me, presumably to help me up.

“I didn’t know…” I mumble, letting his hand hang there. He doesn’t snatch it back right away, although I can tell he wants to, that he’s already beyond exasperated by his day and the last thing he’d wanted was a damsel in distress like me. I hate that he’s proving all the things I’d been trying to disprove about myself by coming out on these solo trips into the great, big outside. I’m weak. Dependent. Needy. It makes my skin crawl with self loathing and frustration.

“Didn’t know, huh? So just clueless, then?” the man spits out, staring down at me with darkened eyes that make me turn my head away in shame. At my sullen silence, he seems to soften a little. “I’m Joel,” he says, an offering to go along with his outstretched hand.

I sigh, taking it and telling him my own name. I’m up on my feet, dusting myself off and looking at him shyly now. I don’t know what people are supposed to say when someone saves their life, so I just mumble, “Thank you.”

Joel snorts, nodding in acknowledgment as he crouches to pat down the body, seeming to come up short of anything interesting. “Don’t thank me yet,” he says, standing back to his full, towering height, glancing around with sharp eyes. “We should move.”

I might be as stupid as he says, because I wordlessly start to follow him towards the door. His hand stretches out behind him, open and inviting me in as he checks outside the door with a careful peek, his gun held tightly in the other. I stare down at it in disbelief. “C’mon, I don’t bite,” he sighs, that perpetual vexation in his tone again as he twitches his brows at me. “Need you close by. An’ it seems you have a tendency to go where you shouldn’t.”

My cheeks grow hot at the harsh truth of it, and I grasp his hand without any further objections, marveling for a moment at the way it envelops mine. All calloused and hard, mine soft and unused for labor of any kind. 

“I’ve got a safehouse not too far from here.”

“A safehouse?”

“It’s already gettin’ dark. There ain’t no way we’re making it back to the QZ today, princess,” he retorts quickly, the pet name mocking on his tongue.

“How’d you know?” I ask softly, disappointment pressing in on my shoulders.

He chuckles out more of a snort, pulling me around a bend, slowly leaving behind the dangerous territory that I’d unknowingly encroached on. “You’re a FEDRA princess if I’ve ever seen one,” he tells me, and my heart sinks that I was so easy to read. I’d seen how capable this man Joel was, but damn was he was astute, more than I’d given him credit for. 

I chew at my lip. “Fair enough,” I mumble under my breath, letting him take his well earned win. The longer I hang onto Joel’s hand, letting him expertly weave me through the barren streets, the safer I start to feel. He knows where he’s going, a practiced route he’s taken countless times, and it hits me then that this man is a smuggler. He has to be.

“Are you a smuggler?” I ask pointedly. “I’ve heard that people like that come in and out of the QZ.”

Joel falters for just a brief second, giving me a wily grin. “Look who’s readin’ who now,” he says with a dry chuckle. “Ain’t gonna run and tell your daddy, are you?”

I shake my head, pressing my lips together in a smile. “I can keep a secret.” In fact, I like keeping secrets from my father, hence the sneaking out, so Joel can count on me to never rat him out.

His amused grin in response lights a little flame akin to friendship inside of me. This grumpy old bastard could smile after all. “Just through here,” he says, letting the smile drop, taking a sharp left down a street just as a sprinkle of rain starts to fall on us. It’s a less urban area - more like a neighborhood - sprouted with apartment buildings and abandoned, vine covered cars. It’s my favorite thing about all the exploration I’ve been doing, seeing the way nature can reclaim anything and make it her own. 

The cracked street below us makes me tread carefully, lagging behind as Joel’s hand tugs me along urgently. We turn down an alley, Joel whipping his head left to right before dragging me behind him, finally dropping my hand to open a door that leads right into a tiny lobby and a stairwell. He runs a hand through his damp hair, slicking it back some - a rather handsome look for him, now that I’m thinking about it. I try to ignore that thought as his voice booms through the empty room.

“Up,” he commands, gripping my hand again and leading us up the stairs. 

My stomach sinks a little when he takes out a key, unlocking a padlock on one of the apartments numbered 405 and pushing the old, chipped door inwards. I have no reason not to trust Joel, he saved my life afterall, but I can’t shake the nerves I feel from being in an unfamiliar place with an unfamiliar man. It’s quiet here, likely nobody in the vicinity but the two of us.

“Home sweet home,” he grunts out, dropping his backpack and gun holster near the door and shrugging off his damp jacket, leaving him in a plain tee shirt that hugs his muscular frame. It’s a small, cramped apartment with a living room and kitchen directly next to it, a little window cut into the wall, peering in on the living room from above the stove. It looks as if it’s left exactly as it was years ago, full of furniture and clutter, only a vessel for Joel to use without making it his own at all. I peer past to see a small hallway I can only assume leads to a bedroom and bathroom.

“Know it ain’t the palace you’re probably used to, but we’ll be safe an’ dry here,” he say, and I roll my eyes behind his back. If Joel thinks that I live in a palace, he’s clearly misunderstood the state that the QZ is in. My father’s house is spacious, sure, but it’s just as dilapidated as the rest of the city. The only difference is the level of protection afforded to our homes.

He ambles into the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets with a clatter, then comes back moments later with an open can of beans and two forks. I’m still standing in the entryway, unsure of what to do with myself.

“Hungry?” he asks gruffly, and I shake my head, wide eyed. I’d lost my appetite the minute that man had grabbed me earlier, and I couldn’t seem to get it back. Joel shrugs, digging in with a messy forkful of from the can. “Your funeral,” he says, chewing.

Joel sinks down onto the couch with a tiny groan, setting down the can on the side table next to his armrest, giving the other cushion an expectant look. “Well, you gonna sit your ass on down an’ tell me why the hell I had to save it today, or what? Why the hell you’re wanderin’ around like it’s a free for all out there?”

I flinch slightly at his harsh tone, but gingerly step my way into the room, unzipping my jacket and shedding it. For the chill outside, the temperature inside the apartment is more comfortable than I’d expect, my skin welcoming the change. Joel eyes my thin tee shirt, and I feel a flash of heat sweep my skin before I feel the prickle of goosebumps, knowing my nipples are poking through the fabric. His eyes catch there before he promptly averts them.

I sit precariously next to Joel on the loveseat, pressed as far away as I can from him, not wanting to cramp his personal space. But he seems to have no problem with that anyways, his legs spread wide open in a comfortable stance, leaned back against the cushions. He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes shut for a moment as he awaits my answer. 

“I was… exploring,” I say simply, cringing at how ridiculous it sounds coming out of my mouth. Who leaves perfect safety to wander around in a dangerous world on purpose? For no other reason than curiosity and a sudden, rebellious sense of defiance?

His eyes snap open, head pulling up from the couch, turning my way. “Explorin’…” He mulls on the word, slowly licking his lips before pursing them. “You’re tellin’ me I had to save a FEDRA brat today ‘cause she was explorin’? You really are stupid. ‘Course you are, look how young y’are. Look how fuckin’... sheltered.” Joel throws his hands up, landing them on his thighs with a soft thud, sighing. “Can’t even blame ya.”

I pluck up every bit of courage I have, glaring at him with narrowed eyes. “Look, it was really nice of you to save me and everything, and I do thank you for it. I’m sorry if I messed up whatever… smuggling stuff you had going on today, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me… stupid.” The last word is quiet, mousy, and I turn my head down, eyes shining with unshed tears that I silently curse myself for. My father’s voice rings through my head - you stupid girl! - making me shudder.

Joel sucks at his teeth. “Hit a nerve, I see,” he says passively. “Alright, I’m sorry kiddo. I just mean, you’re puttin’ yourself at risk doin’ what you’re doin’, and it ain’t a smart idea. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I sigh out, relaxing a little. “I just needed to get away.”

“From your dear old daddy?” he teases, picking up the can, shoveling several more bites into his mouth. I go silent, picking at a thread on the couch rather than answer him. “Ah, another nerve, I see. Daddy issues. Could’ve guessed that one.”

“I don’t have -”

“Sweetheart…” Joel interrupts, looking at me from under his brows, pulling his lip between his teeth, seeming to look at me in a fresh light. It sends my skin tingling, the way he eyes me, a glint in his stare. It seems to prove his point, the way a pet name from a middle aged man seems to immobilize me against my will. I want to slap the smug look off his face, but I have no grounds to do so, only grumbling quietly with my cheeks blazing in embarrassment. A prickle of something else works its way deep into my belly, something warm at how his scrutinizing eyes flick over my body, the lines in his face set, showing his age, his experience. 

“Take a piece of advice from a man probably as old as your daddy, then. Trust me when I say that outside those walls ain’t the place to find what you’re lookin’ for. The sooner you let go of that notion, the better off you’ll be.” 

Frustration blooms hot in my chest, overpowering whatever the hell that sudden, unwanted feeling was. I’m tired of people dictating what I can and can’t do, what I’m capable of. “People do it all the time - smugglers - you would know,” I retort. “I’ve been doing it for months. Never had a problem until today. It was just some bad luck.”

“Bad luck? Really? You’d be that man’s newest little cock sleeve if it weren’t for me savin’ your ass,” Joel growls, standing up off the couch. I wince at his vulgar language, the picture it paints in my mind of what life might have been like if Joel hadn’t happened to be in the right place at the right time.

“I - I know - I’m sorry,” I blurt out, feeling my hands start to go shaky. “Thank you, Joel, I really - I really do owe you. Everything.”

“Like I said, don’t thank me yet.” He steps over so that he’s in front of me, using his boot to part my legs, scooting them apart and standing between them. “Think I did all this out of the kindness of my heart, did you? Didn’t think that maybe I was after the same damn thing as buddy boy earlier?”

I’m like a fish out of water, the way my lips move with no sound coming out. “Joel…” I breathe out in warning, in questioning. I see his arms strain in his t-shirt, hands flexing open and closed.

“I can’t say the thought ain’t crossin’ my mind now. You are mighty pretty. And you do owe me a favor. One big ol’ gigantic favor, for savin’ your backside.” He brushes his fingers along his jeans, palming his crotch for a brief second before leaning forward, caging me in on the couch with hands on either side of me, pressing into the cushions. My heart hammers in my chest so loud I expect Joel can hear it, can feel the fear taking hold of me. He bares his teeth above me like a wild animal, and now I’m certain he can smell my fear too, that he thrives on it. 

“You know what? Maybe you were bound to find what you were lookin’ for outside those walls. Maybe that’s what you needed, is it? Couldn’t find any love from daddy back home, so you wanted to find someone to turn you into their own personal little play thing. Poor baby just needed some attention, did she? Sad, really.”

My hands tremble, my words lost as I can only breathe in shaky little breaths, shaking my head violently. How can this god forsaken day keep getting worse? 

“Please -” I mumble out, bringing a jittery hand up to my mouth. Joel slaps it away, gripping my chin harshly at first, inspecting me before his thumb brushes over my bottom lip. I’d think it was gentle, caring, even, if not for the nasty look spreading across his face, the grin that darkens it along with his eyes.

“Time to put this pretty thing to better use and show how grateful you are to ol’ daddy Joel,” he says, using his free hand to deftly unbuckle his belt, the jangling sound like a death knell, making my throat go dry. “Promise I’ll be much better than he would’ve been earlier. People say I’m… a generous lover.” His drawl is slow and calculated, voice deep with lust, the sly smirk turning to a triumphant grin as he chuckles, amusing himself.

He grips the top of my head, pushing me to slide down the couch cushions into a slump as I struggle, powerless against a man of his strength. He positions himself higher up to bring the giant denim bulge right in my view. I wince, trying to turn my head away as his zipper comes undone, his hand grasping deep into the fly of his jeans, yanking his cock out. When it springs free, I gasp as he lets it slap me in the face. Hot, throbbing, and massive, leaking a shiny bead of precum that had ended up somewhere on my cheek. I sit stunned and held in place by his rough hand. 

The cold hard fact hits me that this is the first time I’m ever going to experience intimacy of any kind. Hell, I’ve only had one kiss before, and it was when I was ten years old, with a boy belonging to one of my father’s friends, a name I can’t even remember now. The first penis I’m ever seeing is right here, right now, in a context I have had zero control over. It’s thicker than I’d imagined one could be, softer too as I look at the skin of it. Veins run along the sides and bottom, all leading up to an imposing, angry pink head at the tip, practically bursting as it awaits me. It’s magnificent and terrifying at the same time, nothing like what I’d expected based on the half-assed health classes provided by schooling in the QZ. Sex has always had a shroud of mystery for me, and I never imagined that all those secrets, long awaited, would be uncovered like this. A dingy bedroom, a man likely almost three times my age, and me as an unwilling participant. Desperation swiftly grips my chest as I realize I actually have no clue what goes on behind closed doors between two people, and I have a feeling I’m about to find out in the crudest of ways.

The fearful innocence I know is about to be stolen from me causes tears to sting at my eyes, fat little droplets that instantly start to roll down my cheeks, leaking onto Joel’s large fingers still gripped around my chin. I start to struggle, my body seeming to catch up with my mind, loud warning sirens of DANGER! DANGER! finally blaring out in a panic. When I squirm, Joel plants one of his knees into my body, keeping himself balanced while still being able to hold me down. 

“Don’t cry now, honey, it’ll only make him harder.” He sneers as he strokes his cock, slapping the head against my closed lips a few times. He wrenches my jaw down, forcing it open. “Nice ‘n wide for this big boy, there we go,” he says, not waiting a moment longer to barge his cock past the opening while he has it. 

He groans loudly as he shoves several inches in right from the get go, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head. The hand that had been holding my jaw presses in on my shoulder, holding me in place. I’d have nowhere to go, anyways, with his knee on my thighs, his entire body caging me in, the cushions giving me no leeway to the way his cock is forcefully intruding, inch by inch down my throat. The taste is all consuming - a little salty, a little ripe, tasting like days of Joel’s old sweat, but it’s not completely bad, not what I’d have expected. It’s heady in a strange way, clouding my mind as I try to cope with the fullness in my mouth. 

The next moment I sputter, my eyes popping open wide, flooded with tears as he hits the back of my throat. I try to gasp for air and I find that I can’t. This is torture of some form, it must be. Full panic follows, where I try to move, but every avenue is pinned down in some way by Joel’s massive body. I weakly flap at him with my hands but it barely even deters him from rocking his hips in and out, choking me again on the thrust inwards as the back of my throat tightens, gagging around his thick girth. 

“Open up, relax your goddamn throat,” Joel hisses at me, keeping his cock pressed fully to the back of my throat, constricting any airflow I was hoping to have. I finally breathe shakily out of my nose when he pulls back just enough, only to slide it in slowly, his eyes carefully watching me. I glance up for the first time at him from below, hoping to find any shred of humanity he might have for me, but I’m met with an icy, dark gaze clouded with lust, power. 

“Gonna fuck your face now, like the dumb little slut you are. This is what stupid girls get for wanderin’ around by themselves. This is what they ask for.” He punctuates the last words with a sharp thrust inwards, my entire body convulsing with the gag I sputter out around him, drool pooling around my stretched lips. I would whimper if I could, if I even had the air to do so. 

Joel is relentless for the next few moments, rapid thrusts in and out of my mouth, my head held conveniently in place against the couch cushions for him. He groans deeply, his pleasure evident while I’m just trying to get my next breath in. I time them expertly, learning as I go, letting him continue to take from me to gain his own pleasure. 

“That’s it, that’s right, you’re turnin’ into quite the good girl,” Joel mutters above me, rolling his hips with vigor and making me gag again. I can feel drool dribbling down my chin, my neck, landing on my chest, and it makes me feel ashamed, embarrassed, and a twinge of something else. I can’t tell as Joel grunts, pumping himself in and out of my gruesomely contorted jaw, if the fact that it’s something even remotely sexual has me feeling things I shouldn’t. My cheeks burn hot as my eyes continue to water - how much of it is crying and how much of it is just my body’s response to him hitting the back of my throat, I don’t know.

Then he surprises me by slowing down, languid strokes of his cock in and out with sloppy sounds, a soft hand landing on my head, stroking before bundling my hair in his fist tightly. “Knew you’d have such a filthy little mouth for daddy,” he coos, rolling his hips forward a little further, touching the back of my throat with his cock. 

My body spasms a little when he keeps pushing, grumbling quiet groans of approval. My eyes squeeze shut, leaking out an onslaught of tears. I don’t want to see the aftermath if it ends up that it’s one gag too many and the inevitable happens. But to my surprise, he keeps slipping down, intruding on my throat. I try to keep my trembling body still, wanting to keep my throat relaxed, terrified of what might happen if I fight this. Can a person die this way? Could I really choke to death on this man’s dick? 

“Jesus fuck. Lord have fuckin’ mercy…” Joel breathes out as he pushes even further. “Swallowin’ him down, aren’t ya? Feel me right in here, I bet.” I flinch when he touches his hand to the column of my throat, wrapping his fingers softly around the flesh. When he starts to retreat, the choking is back in a second, but Joel holds me by the throat, keeping my neck craned back, returning to the brutal way he’d been abusing my mouth. I groan and sputter and try to cough through all of it, my mouth stuffed full over and over again before I can get a breath in. 

He’s relentless, and then it stops all at once, his cock popping out from between my lips with a wet, lewd sound. A stream of drool follows, a gush that dribbles down onto my already soaked shirt, and I cough violently, my hands flailing to clutch at my chest. 

As soon as the pressure of Joel’s body lifts off of me, I’m scrambling to somewhere, anywhere else, my limbs stiff and achy, my jaw panging with a soreness I’ve never felt before. He stands in front of me, one hand shooting out to grab the collar of my shirt before I can even get fully off the couch, pulling me close.

“Does it look like you’re done showin’ your gratitude yet?” he growls out, gripping the back of my head and forcing me to look down at his cock, still standing at full attention, shiny and dripping with saliva. I swallow hard, the lump painful on the way down. Joel shakes my head for me, the burn at my scalp making me wince. He presses his hips flush with mine, forcing his erection against my thigh before slipping it between them. He leans in close, hot breath ghosting over my face before his lips brush mine.

“You do make a pretty cocksleeve, y’know. Suckin’ cock like a cheap whore, wonder if you take it the same way in your cunt.”

I whimper, shaking my head, the tears non-stop as they roll down my cheeks. “Please… don’t. You don’t have to do this…”

Joel scoffs. “If I put my hand down your pants to that pretty little snatch, tell me I wouldn’t find you wet right now.” He punctuates the words with a sharp pull on my scalp. I cry out, lip quivering, trying to shake my head. “Don’t lie t’me after I’ve been so, so generous t’you today.”

I’m spinning around, a dizzying sensation, Joel’s strong bicep brought across my chest as his other hand delves below my waistline, plunging deep, right to my cotton panties, bypassing the waistband of those, too. Without care, without any sense of boundaries, his fingers explore, slipping through my sensitive slit with ease. I yelp, squirming at the intrusion, and Joel’s deep chuckle behind me confirms what I already knew, what I was beyond confused by.

“Thought so,” he says gruffly, then he cups my entire mound, giving an almost comforting sensation, holding his hand tightly pressed to it. “Nothin’ to be upset about, we’re just havin’ a little fun, payin’ off your debt to dear ol’ Joel, okay?”

I shake my head. “I - I shouldn't be here… it shouldn’t be like this,” I whisper in a cracking voice, hanging my head low as the tears just keep coming, damn them. 

Joel’s fingers start to move slowly, just starting with one, stroking gently up my lips, spreading my slickness around. I’m surprised that it feels good, a pleasant little tingle zipping right to my core that I quickly lament, hating myself for it. “What shouldn’t be like this, hm? That you shouldn’t like my cock down your throat? It’s perfectly natural, doll,” he says, somehow soft and condescending in the same breath.

“A-all of this,” I whimper, “Please, j-just let me go. I w-won’t say anything, I won’t do anything. I just…”

Joel quietly shushes me, letting his finger do the talking for a moment. It drags up to my clit, rubbing tiny, enticing little circles. I bite my lip hard, enough to taste copper, trying to suppress the moan climbing its way up from my chest. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay that it feels good. It’s ‘sposed to. Good little sluts like you don’t know any better, don’t care what it is that’s gettin’ their panties wet. Desperate,” he growls, fingers sliding through the slick mess that’s now drooling onto the cotton. “Just relax, let it happen…” I feel his breath, hot on my ear, before he nibbles, biting down hard on the earlobe, tugging it with his teeth. It bursts out, the whimpering moan I’d been holding back, just as he pinches my clit at the same time as the bite.

He laughs. He has the nerve to laugh and it sends a shiver down my spine, my brain muddled and confused and turned on by the eroticism at play here. He soothes me by nuzzling my neck, taking a long, deep breath in. I squirm as Joel’s hand retreats, and I wonder for just a moment, a brief, all consuming moment, if maybe he’s seen reason. When his fingers find the buttons of my jeans, my heart plummets to depths previously unknown as he unbuttons them, pulling the zipper down slowly, the only sound in the room his harsh breathing right on my neck.

“Please, I gave you what you want already,” I beg once more, feeling it fall on deaf ears as Joel tugs my jeans down, revealing my pink cotton panties. They’re my favorite pair - were my favorite pair - a rare find in a world like this. Pretty pale pink with a nice lacy trim and a little bow at the front. Only now, they’d belong to Joel.

Joel clicks his tongue in approval of the sight, pulling his head back to peer at my underwear from the back before his hand grips my ass, jiggling it roughly. “Oh, you’re jus’not getting it, are you? You feel this?” he asks angrily, letting me feel the hard length of his cock pressed to my ass cheeks, threatening to slip between my thighs. “This means you didn’t give me nearly half of what I want yet. He’s still achin’ for ya, princess.” 

I grit my teeth, hating the pet name, the way he’s using who I am to mock me. It’s a low blow. I hated everything to do with being associated with my father - I knew he wasn’t a good man - and I hated most that it was so obvious to a stranger which echelon of society I belonged to. If I was so important, where were they now, huh? I want to scream those words at him, but instead I just feel my legs tremble underneath me, my knees feeling like jelly as they almost give out on me.

“Please!” I struggle against his hold, but it only makes him grip my ass tighter, hard enough to bruise. “I-I’m a virgin,” I suddenly squeak out, unsure of why I say it other than some last ditch effort to deter him. My heart pounds as he stills, dead silent with his hand grasping my ass like it’s his next meal, like he owns it. 

“Well ain’t it my lucky day. Shit, that’s why you were sputterin’ all over my damn cock, ain’t it?” he says as the epiphany dawns on him, laughing. My cheeks blaze hotter and hotter, hating that I’m even embarrassed at my lack of experience and skills, like I have some sick need to impress him. He notices my tension, my head hanging low as I cry new tears, and says, “Hey, hey, nothin’ to be ashamed for. In fact…” His hand fists in my underwear, tight and unrelenting. I feel his cock press against my ass again, harder than ever before it slips between my thighs. “Makes me awful excited,” he purrs, bringing his mouth to my ear again.

I only give him a timid whimper in reply, squeezing my eyes shut as I realize there is nothing I can do to stop this man. He thinks I’m a cheap whore, and he loves it. I’m a pure virgin, and he loves it even more.

He squeezes me tighter to his chest, my back starting to sweat through my thin tee shirt. “The hell were you savin’ yourself for anyways? Marriage? A sweet pussy like this?” At my silence, he cups my pussy hard, letting the dampness of my underwear soak into his palm. “Answer me!” he barks out.

“I - I wasn’t! I don’t know!” I cry out, trembling.

“Well,” he says, fisting my panties again, starting to pull them down. “M’honored you’d let me be your first, sweetheart,” he drawls, and I nearly scream at the insinuation. I’m not letting him do anything. 

I start to put up more of a fight, useless against his thick arms holding me so tightly. Cool air touches my ass and the space between my thighs as he manages to shimmy my panties further down even in my struggle. I clamp my legs shut in defiance, roaring out a strained grunt as I keep trying to squirm out of his grasp. He huffs in anger, trying to subdue my writhing body before he pushes it towards the couch. I land hard, banging my knee on the hard edge that supports the cushion, wincing and trying to catch my breath. I’m practically in position for him already, ass pressed out towards him, on my hands and knees.

“Gonna make me do things the hard way, are you?” He scowls, his free hand fisting in my hair again, pulling me close.  His breath is hot over my shoulder, the sensation vile against the skin of my cheek, stained with tears. “Been too long since I found a pretty virgin like you. An’ ruinin’ this perfect, pure little cunt is jus’ the cherry on top of a perfect day f’me.” 

I feel his hard cock twitch against me, a reminder of what’s to come. The movements are quick for how bulky Joel’s body is, let alone his age, as he exchanges the hold across my chest for my wrists, bundling them behind my back. I cry out at the strain, the awkward angle he’d twisted them to, fighting him again until a hard smack lands on my ass. I scream through gritted teeth, not giving up the fight, but another thwap! rings out through the apartment, making me falter. My tender flesh screams at me in agony when he lands another spank, even harder this time, then another, until I’m crying unrelenting, fat tears.

With me rendered motionless, Joel presses down, bending me over, my balance tricky with my hands behind my back. My face nearly touches the couch, but I’m precariously held up by the wrists, the strain already making them ache. The warmth dripping between my thighs betrays me as my ass stings in residual little pulses, so raw and sore but spreading a pleasure through me that I’ve never known before. 

I don’t have time to dwell on it before Joel is grasping one hand on my hip, notching himself at my entrance. “Promise you’re gonna like this, that you’ll never be able to think of anyone else’s cock but daddy Joel’s,” he spews gruffly in my ear before he thrusts hard, one swift motion to bury himself inside of me. I scream out, the searing pain between my thighs making me wonder if I’m being split open for good, if it’s possible that some things are just too big to fit in certain places of the body. 

“Fuuuuuuck,” Joel hisses through his teeth, making the tiniest thrusting motions to ensure he’s buried deep. Every movement pierces me with a new sting as my body desperately tries to adjust, to accommodate the horrible, overwhelming intrusion. “You were not kiddin’, sweetheart. Tightest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever been in.”

I sob, unable to speak, unable to move as Joel thrusts brutally from the get go, his hips snapping with force, crashing into mine hard enough to bruise. The lewd sounds we make disgust me, because I know I’m part of those sounds, my body enjoying the filthy things he’s saying, the way he’s taking me without remorse. He pulls himself out, clicking his tongue as he peers down between our bodies. “Christ, you are one sexy little bird. Poor little virgin bleedin’ on daddy’s cock.”

The thought horrifies me, making my stomach turn. “Please,” I cry out, my body rocking with the motions as he starts to fuck me again, the strain on my wrists as Joel uses them to help thrust himself inside of me starting to gnaw deeper into them. I’m like a ragdoll with the way he’s jerking me by my wrists, my body having no choice but to flail in time with the movements so that he can press himself deep on each cruel thrust inwards.

“You want more? You beggin’ already?” Joel grunts between his heavy breaths, sounding so cocky it makes me want to spin around and punch him. I settle for gritting my teeth instead, feeling my body slowly but surely melding into his. When Joel presses me down further, forcing an arch in my back, I whimper when his cock hits something sensitive, deep, primal. Fuck, is it something. 

“Oh, that’s it. We got her now, don’t we?” he says from above, continuing to stroke his cock along that spot repeatedly. I feel myself losing my will to fight, hating the pleasure but feeling myself lean into it slightly, my hips pressing back to meet his nearly against my will. “You ever come before, sweetheart?” He leans in a little closer to ask the question, the pistoning of his hips slowing the slightest bit.

I refuse to answer, tears pooling in my eyes. I don’t want him to take this from me, I don’t want him to know anything about me. He jerks my wrists at the same time he slams his hips into me, and I whimper loudly, feeling the way he’s surely bruising my insides. 

“If you ain’t figured it out yet, the rules are that you answer me when I’m askin’ you a question if you know what’s good for ya,” he spits out, and I shake my head, letting it hang limply.

“Use your words. Say ‘no, daddy’,”  he says with sinister condescension, stroking his own ego.

“N-no… daddy…” I say, my tongue revolting against the words, bile climbing up my throat.

He moves his hand to my head, stroking carefully and softly. “Oh, that’s a shame. That’s a daaaamn shame. All pent up, y’are. But daddy will make it all better.” He sounds deranged, sick, like he truly believes that I’m thankful to him for what he’s doing to me. I can’t answer, my mouth gaping open just as he releases my wrists, letting me fall to the couch with a thud. My open mouth gets a mouthful of the cushions, making me sick over the fact that it’s probably full of god knows what due to its age and whatever things Joel seems to get up to in this apartment of his.

I blink as Joel grips tightly at my hips, wondering why he suddenly trusts my hands to be free, when it happens. He thrusts into that spot again, harsh and unforgiving, and I nearly see stars behind my eyes as the head of his cock punches against things I didn’t even know were there. That’s why. I’m incapacitated at this angle, brutally forced to enjoy the pleasure washing over my body as Joel takes from me, actually giving in return this time.

I bite my tongue hard, not wanting to give him any satisfaction for the tiny moans that are growing louder in my throat, desperate to be let out.

“Let me hear you, princess. Daddy doesn’t do with quiet girls. I can feel you clampin’ down on my cock, know you’re lovin’ how I use you up like you were meant for it.”

I shake my head in protest, but a strangled sound escapes past my tight lips when Joel slams into me harder than he has yet, puffing hard as he fucks me like a greedy animal. He chuckles through heavy breaths, little whispers of that’s it, come on, take it, flow freely from his nasty mouth. 

I feel myself slip away, further gone from reality as the warmth spreads from my pelvis into my belly, coiling tight. Everything tingles, set on fire, the spot where Joel handles my hips with his fat fingers practically burning with a constant mix of pleasure and pain. I cry out when Joel’s cock pulls that feeling out from deep inside of me again, half a sob and half a moan as it crescendos, waves of pleasure crashing over me.

Joel’s grunts of approval, so brutish and debauched, sends a new wave of arousal through me. I tremble, eyes squeezed shut with my body completely out of my control, taken over by this boundless bliss. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before: heavenly warmth worlds above any of the pleasures I’ve known. This had to be what Joel was referring to, urging me towards, telling me he wanted to make me come. This had to be what I was missing out on all these years, hiding myself away. Was this the reason sex was so coveted, so sought after? Was this feeling… the reason he’s doing what he is to me right now?  

It feels like it’s never ending, my body so rigid as it spasms yet pliant as he fucks into me harder and harder. I loathe the noises I’m making that intermingle with his as I squeeze my eyes shut, enjoying it.

“Fuck, fuck - that’s it - f-fuck knew you’d love it. Come on my cock, baby, that’s right.” Joel’s string of praises reach my ears as I come down from my high, limp and yielding to whatever it is he wants to do to me now. I have no fight - my bones turned to jelly, my body sore all over, my throat scratchy from the way he’d assaulted it earlier. I only have it in me to give the rest of myself over, whether I like it or not. 

“S-so fuckin’ tight, lettin’ me take your virginity like a good little whore,” he punches out, pounding into my sensitive cunt like it’s saving his soul, like it’s the only thing he could ever care about. I’m on the precipice of coming again, my nerves still frayed and on edge from the last one. A smaller but still powerful climax takes over, my body shuddering and tight, milking every last second of the pleasure. 

“Gonna blow my load into this pure little pussy, make it mine - fuck - gonna fill you up like the cocksleeve you are. P-probably never want to be without my fuckin’ load drippin’ out of you again. I-I’m close, fuck -” Joel rambles as he ruts his hips deep, one final thrust and a grunt, and I feel him stall, pulsing into me. 

It’s all suddenly very still, an eerie quiet settling over the room. My entire body burns hot, the only thing keeping me from collapsing is Joel’s hands still anchored on my hips as he leaves his cock inside of me, plugging me up. I want to cry again at the sudden, overwhelming shame I feel, but I can’t give him the satisfaction. I can’t.

Joel pats my ass a few times, pulling out. I tremble hard, falling forward onto the couch without his hold, instantly curling in on myself. I resent the way I’d noticed how empty I felt the second he was gone, how cold my body was without his warmth pressed into it. I dare to peer up at the sick man who stands above me, catching his breath, watching just as the last bit of his softening cock gets tucked back into his jeans. He swipes a hand across his forehead, gathering sweat, staring down at me with a darkened expression, grinning cockily.

When he plops down on the couch next to me, picking up the can of beans he’d been eating before, my mouth hangs open in surprise at how casual he’s acting. I watch his face shine with sweat, his breathing still labored, but everything else about his attitude would indicate he didn’t just force himself on me. 

I try to keep my expression neutral for my own safety as I feel something leak out of me, not even wanting to give him the smug satisfaction of having to confirm my suspicions about what it is. I do my best to position my body so he can’t see between my legs as I try to pull my underwear up from where they sit near my knees, my jeans following. Joel only gives me a knowing glance as he takes a bite, conscious of the fact that a part of him sits inside my now soiled underwear, and a part of me now sits inside of his soul. 

He shoves the can my way and I shrink back at his sudden motion, not taking it from him. “Eat. I ain’t havin’ you all weak and despondent for the next time.”

I feel my heart sink down past my ass, my stomach plummeting along with it as nausea overtakes me, a dizzying sensation clouding my vision. He couldn’t have said what I think he did. I - I’d paid my debt, whatever it was he thought I owed him for saving me when I didn’t even ask him to. For saving me and then doing exactly what that man had planned to do anyways under the guise of a caring, noble rescuer.

“N-next time…?” I manage to make my mouth move, my throat to produce a sound, pushing the question out in a voice that doesn’t sound like my own.

“Know you said not to call you stupid but my house, my rules, an’ sweetheart…” He looks at me under his raised, expectant brows. “My stupid, stupid girl. Did you really think that would be enough? That I’d get an opportunity every man dreams of - an untouched, perfect pussy like yours, to keep all for m’self, and throw it all away?” He’s creeping closer as he speaks, shrouding me on the couch with his huge frame, caging in where I lay, my body wound as tightly as it can to itself to block whatever he’s thinking of doing next. “Now you don’t think daddy is that dumb to let you go knowin’ all that, do you?”

I sit stunned silent underneath him, wide eyes fixed in a tortured gaze on his rugged face, but his hand squeezing my thigh is warning enough for me to shake my head, stuttering out an answer. “N-no. No…” I whisper. 

Two approving pats on my cheek send Joel slinking back slightly, his dark, unhinged eyes staring holes into me as they roam over my body. Despite nothing even visible - my chest hidden underneath my arms and legs clamped tightly - I feel violated, objectified. 

Terror rips through my chest as reality settles in slowly but surely. I look at the man I’d trusted once, who’d shown himself to be a friend, or at the least an ally, currently feasting his eyes on me like I’m a product. Which now, I suppose I am. A whore. His whore.

“Now,” he says, licking his lips, that hungry gaze already returning, a bulge appearing in his jeans and stretching the fabric. “All I’ve got to do is decide just how long I’ll keep ya for.”

dividers by @/saradika-graphics!

[moonstruckme]

I don’t know if you currently accept requests but if you do could you write something with Spence where reader isn’t really a touchy kind of person and the team goes out for drinks, r gets drunk and is super touchy with Spencer and he is so flustered but secretly loves it?

If not don’t worry about it<3

Thank you for requesting angel <3

cw: alcohol

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 759 words

“Dave,” Prentiss says firmly, “I’ve got it.” 

“No, you got it last time.” Rossi’s trying to put his credit card down on the tab the waiter left, but Prentiss blocks him with a hand. “Let me take this one.” 

“I don’t care which of them gets it,” you say near Spencer’s ear. “Just glad it’s not me.” He laughs. 

Luckily, you’re not loud enough for anyone to hear but him. You’ve become surprisingly mumbly after a few drinks, imparting your observations and witticisms to Spencer alone, your cheek on his shoulder. Surprisingly tactile, too. 

“What are you doing?” he asks as you trace the creases spanning the insides of his fingers. He doesn’t think you’re doing anything really, drunk enough to be susceptible to whims and mindless fiddling, but Spencer likes to hear you talk. 

You make a muted humming sound. “Reading your finger lines.”

“You mean my palm lines?” 

“No, I mean your finger ones. I’m inventing a new science.” 

Spencer smiles. The tip of your nose is touching the knit of his cardigan, he wonders if it itches. You might not notice, though, with the way you’re so concentrated on his hand. Your lashes shadow your eyes like heavy clouds. 

“You know,” says Spencer, “there’s been some disagreement among biologists about palm lines. They’re called palmar flexion creases, and while it’s largely agreed upon that they form before birth to allow freedom of movement without stretching the skin on our hands, some also think that certain lines can indicate certain medical conditions.” 

“Huh.” You trace your finger down to his palm. “So, sort of like telling the future.” 

“Well, modern medical practitioners can usually identify those conditions early after birth anyway—but sure, if you want to think about it that way.” 

“That’s okay, I’m not that invested in palm line science anyway.” 

You say it placidly, even though you’re not moving away, like nothing is really all that important so long as you’re touching him. The dim, orange bulbs of the lamps in the bar cast shadows under your lashes and in the dip of your cupid’s bow.

Your finger keeps moving absently, past Spencer’s wrist until you’re nudging up his shirtsleeve. “You have really nice forearms,” you murmur. 

Spencer’s skin prickles with a blush. He takes your hand away in an effort to deter you, but you only go along with the deviation, linking your fingers through his. He glances at Garcia, relieved when she’s not looking. Just last week, she’d asked Spencer and Morgan if you secretly didn’t like her. 

I tried to give her a hug, she’d said, pouting confusedly, and she went as stiff as a board. It was the worst rejection I’ve had since high school.

Morgan had laughed. Not everyone is as warm and fuzzy as you are, babygirl. Don’t take it personal. She’s just not the touchy type.

You feel for Spencer’s other hand under the table, seeking to add it to your collection. He gives it over to avoid a fuss. 

On the other end of the table, Rossi seems to have successfully paid the bill. 

“Okay.” He gets up with a sigh, grabbing his coat. “I will see you kids tomorrow.” 

“Bright and early,” JJ agrees with joking weariness. 

As your team starts to get up, say goodbye, and (in Garcia’s case) hurriedly slurp up the remainders of their drinks, Spencer gives your fingers a tentative squeeze. 

“Time to go,” he tells you. 

You sigh heavily, warm breath permeating his cardigan. “Okay. I guess.” 

Spencer’s not entirely sure where your reluctance is coming from—if he were you, he’d be eager for his bed—but you stand without complaint, immediately looping your arm through Spencer’s and leaning comfortably against his side. 

Morgan raises his eyebrows. “Need some help there, pretty boy?” 

“That’s okay.” It’s out before Spencer can think it through, and heat comes to his face when Morgan’s lips lift with a knowing grin. 

Thankfully, Hotch spares him any elaboration. “I can take her home.” He’s watching you severely, the way a strict parent looks at their teenager before reluctantly getting them ibuprofen and a glass of water for the next morning. “She can’t drive.” 

“That’s okay,” Spencer says again. “I can drive her.” 

Hotch’s face is impassive, but Spencer can tell he’s not overly surprised. “Are you sure? I live closer than you do.” 

“I’m sure.” Again, his face heats at what he knows his answer is revealing. But Spencer looks down at you, contented and half asleep against his side, and it’s worth it. “I don’t mind.”

[d-z20]

The Agent Next Door (18+, NSFW)

Pairing: Agent Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You don't really talk to your (extremely attractive) neighbour, Rio Vidal, until one day an accident leads to you staying at her apartment for a couple of days. And an awkward encounter results in having your fantasy come true. -OR- Rio finds you injured after you slipped and fell out the shower and decides to look after you (non-magic AU)

Warnings: Blood, small injury, fluff, smut, fingering (R receiving), oral (R receiving)

Words: 3.4k

A/N: Just wanted to write a bit of Rio caring for reader and well then it turned into smut and I have no regrets. Also I have their whole relationship arc in my head now lol

Read it on AO3

Rio Vidal is your neighbour. You've noticed her plenty of times before—a striking woman with a sharp, confident look that's hard to ignore. You live in the same apartment building, just across the hall from one another. Most days, your interactions are limited to polite smiles and brief chats in the elevator, her dark suit and badge often catching your eye. You've heard her phone buzz with work calls that end with her curt, professional voice. It's obvious she's someone important—serious and dedicated. You've pieced together that she's an FBI agent, but beyond that, you don't know much about her.

You can't deny that you're drawn to her, though. There's something about the way she carries herself—all self-assured and enigmatic. You've caught yourself staring a few times, your heart skipping a beat when she looks back and flashes a rare, amused smile. It's not just her looks—it's the way she moves, the air of mystery she carries, like she's seen things you could only imagine. It makes you nervous, but at the same time, you can't help but look forward to those fleeting moments when your paths cross.

One morning, your shower decides to betray you—your hot water cuts out just as you put your head under. You let out a bloodcurdling scream, quickly trying to jump out of the shower. Unfortunately for you, your foot slips on the hard floor, and you come crashing down, hitting your head on the sink, landing with a very loud thud. Dazed and confused, you are unsure if you passed out for a second there or not, but either way your head is killing you. 

"Fucking brilliant," you mutter to yourself, draping an arm across your eyes to shield them from the light.

At that moment, you heard your front door slamming open and hurried footsteps searching your apartment. You had just about enough sense to yank your towel off the hook and cover up your naked body.

"Y/N?" called a voice just outside the bathroom door.

Shit. It was Rio. You wished the ground would just swallow you up.

"Are you okay? I heard you scream, and then I heard something shatter." You could hear the genuine concern in her voice.

Lifting your head slightly, you noticed the shards of glass from what used to be your bathroom shelf, surrounding you. All you could do was let out a groan and close your eyes at this new development of what was turning out to be the worst morning of your life so far.

This was a bad choice, as a split second later, Rio barged into your bathroom.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" Your neighbour teased, but you could hear the relief in her voice. She moved further into the room, assessing the damage. "Not to ruin such a perfect morning for you, but I might have broken your door getting in here." 

You open your eyes, blinking up at her. Taking her in, you noticed she was wearing a cropped baggy tank top and gym shorts. You blink up at her again, and your head throbs with each beat of your pulse, the pain radiating down your neck. You're still dazed, trying to process how you ended up sprawled on the cold bathroom floor with your FBI agent neighbour standing over you. Rio's sharp eyes take in your silence, concern clouding the playful smirk she'd worn just moments before.

"Hey," she says, voice softer now, as she crouches down beside you. She reaches out, fingertips gently brushing your cheek to turn your face towards her. "Y/N, can you hear me? Do you know who I am?"

You swallow, trying to focus. Her touch is surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to her usual no-nonsense demeanour. You nod slightly, the movement making your head spin. "Rio," you manage to croak out. "Neighbour, FBI agent. And, apparently, a door kicker."

She huffs a laugh, a brief flicker of relief crossing her face. "Good. That's a start. I don't usually make a habit of barging into people's bathrooms uninvited, but I heard that scream, and... well, I'm glad I did." Her eyes drop down to your arm, where blood seeps from a jagged cut. She curses under her breath, her grip on your shoulder tightening just slightly. "You're bleeding. We need to get you cleaned up."

You glance down at your arm, wincing at the sight of blood trickling down to your hand. "I really know how to make an impression, huh?"

Rio shakes her head, lips pressed together in a tight line. "Let's save the jokes until you're not covered in glass, yeah?" Without another word, she slips an arm under your shoulders, helping you sit up. The world tilts slightly, but her hold on you is firm, steadying you as you get your bearings.

"You're going to have to trust me for a minute," she tells you softly. "Can you stand?"

"Maybe," you say, though you're not entirely sure. She helps you up, careful not to jostle your injured arm, and you try to ignore the heat of her skin against yours, the way her fingers dig into your side just enough to ground you.

Rio's eyes dart around the room, quickly assessing the mess of broken glass and water pooling on the floor. "Alright," she says decisively. "I'm taking you back to my place. We'll patch you up there. Your shower is out of commission, and I don't trust that you won't take another tumble if I leave you alone here."

You don't have the energy to argue, so you just nod, letting her guide you out of the bathroom. The two of you make it to the hallway, but not before she grabs a spare towel and wraps it around you more securely. Her movements are quick and efficient, but there's a gentleness to them that surprises you. It's a side of Rio you've never seen before—one that's patient and caring, not just the tough, sarcastic woman you've exchanged pleasantries with in passing.

As you step into her apartment, you notice it's much more personal than you'd imagined. There are framed photos on the walls—nothing too sentimental, mostly candid shots of places she's travelled to, city skylines, and sunsets. Her living room is cosy, with a worn leather couch and a small stack of books piled on the coffee table.

"Sit," she instructs, pointing to the couch. You sink down into it, feeling strangely out of place but oddly comfortable. Rio disappears into the bathroom for a moment, returning with a first aid kit. She kneels in front of you, carefully prying your hand away from your arm.

"This is going to sting," she warns, pulling out an antiseptic wipe. You flinch as she cleans the cut, her brows knitting together in concentration. "Sorry," she mutters. "I'm used to dealing with criminals and suspects, not clumsy neighbours."

"Criminals don't trip in the shower much?" you quip, trying for humour despite the pain. It earns you a small smile from Rio, her eyes flicking up to meet yours.

"Not usually, no. Though I'll admit you're far more entertaining." Her voice softens again, the smirk fading as she wraps a bandage around your arm. "You scared me for a second there, you know."

The confession catches you off guard. "I did? you ask, watching her face as she finishes tying off the bandage.

She doesn't look up, her focus still on your arm. "Yeah," she says quietly. "I thought something bad had happened. Guess I care more about my neighbour than I realised."

Your heart skips a beat, the words hanging in the air between you. It's the first real admission of anything beyond casual friendliness, and it leaves you breathless. You're about to say something—anything—but Rio stands up, offering her hand to you.

"Come on," she says. "Let's get you some proper clothes and maybe a coffee. You can stay here until we sort out your door and shower."

Rio's grip on your hand is firm as she helps you up, her expression still hovering somewhere between concern and her usual, dry amusement. You follow her into the kitchen, and she releases you, motioning for you to sit at the table. It feels strange being here, in her space, especially after the chaos of your morning. She pulls out a chair for you with a slight roll of her eyes, as if it's absurd that you'd even try to resist her instruction.

"I don't have any shifts for the next two days," she announces, moving towards the coffee maker without glancing back at you. "And considering you might've blacked out for a second back there, I'm not letting you out of my sight. So, you're staying with me, here, until you're back on your feet properly."

You open your mouth to argue, but the look she throws over her shoulder silences you. It's one part worry and two parts something else—something softer, almost protective.

"I can manage," you say, but your voice lacks conviction, especially as you rub your throbbing arm. The bandage is already starting to bleed through a bit. Rio's eyes narrow at the sight, and she steps closer, prodding your arm gently.

"Yeah, you're doing a great job," she says dryly, then nods to herself. "You're staying here."

"Fine," you sigh, though part of you feels a flutter of something—relief, maybe, or the thrill of being looked after by someone like Rio. "But I can sleep on the couch. I don't want to kick you out of your bed."

Rio's lips twitch into a smirk. "I'm not letting you take the couch. You've already proven that you're a danger to yourself in any situation that involves standing up."

You can't help but laugh, despite everything. "So, what, we share your bed?"

She raises an eyebrow, as if daring you to challenge her. "It's a queen size. I think we can manage. Unless you've suddenly developed a fear of co-sleeping?"

The thought of sharing a bed with her sends a rush of heat through you, but you try to play it off with a shrug. "As long as you don't hog the covers."

"I'll do my best," she says, the smirk widening.

-

The first night is awkward, as expected. You lie stiffly on one side of the bed, while Rio takes the other, the space between you feeling like a chasm despite the closeness. She's warm though, and you can feel the heat radiating from her body and the subtle scent of her shampoo filling your senses. It's both comforting and maddening, making it hard to fall asleep. Your hyper-aware of every shift she makes, every time her arm brushes against yours. At some point, she turns onto her side, facing you, and you feel her eyes on you in the dark.

"You still awake?" she whispers.

"Yeah," you reply, swallowing hard.

There's a pause, then you feel her hand brush against yours. It's light, almost as if by accident, but when you don't pull away, she leaves it there, her fingers barely touching yours.

"Try to get some sleep," she murmurs. "You need to rest."

"Alright," you say, voice hoarse, and somehow, with her so close, you finally drift off.

Over the next day and a half, the tension between you shifts, It's subtle at first—small, lingering glances from Rio that last a bit too long, the brush of her fingers against your back when she helps you into the kitchen. Her sarcasm returns, but there's a flirtatious edge to it now, like she's testing the waters.

"You're really milking this injury, aren't you?" She teases, handing you your drink to have with the pizza she bought for dinner. "You'd think you broke your entire body, the way you're lounging around."

"Hey," you protest, setting the drink down. "You're the one who insisted I stay. Don't blame me for enjoying the hospitality."

She leans against the counter, arms crossed, a grin tugging at her lips. "Oh, I'm well aware. But don't get too comfortable with me waiting on you hand and foot—I've got to go back to work tomorrow.

-

That night, the atmosphere between you shifts even more. When you climb into bed besides Rio, there's no hesitation this time. She turns towards you almost immediately, her hand resting lightly on your hip as if it's the most natural thing in the world. You can feel the heat of her body through the thin fabric of your shirt, her breath warm against the back of your neck. It's a small touch, nothing too bold, but it feels significant—an unspoken acknowledgement of everything simmering between you two. You fall asleep like that, closer than before, your fingers unconsciously brushing hers under the covers.

When you wake up, she's already dressed for the day, leaning over you with a mug of coffee in hand. She sets it down on the nightstand with a playful smile. "Morning sweetheart," she says, her voice laced with that familiar teasing tone, but there's a softness to it now. "Try not to do anything risky while I'm gone, yeah? I don't want to come back to find you've taken a tumble without me here to save the day."

You laugh, reaching for the coffee, but there's a flutter in your chest at the pet name, even if she means it jokingly. "I'll do my best," you say. "But no promises."

She smirks, leaning down just enough to press a light kiss to your forehead. "Good. I'll be back later. Make yourself at home."

You do. The rest of the day passes in a strangely pleasant haze, and you find yourself enjoying the small comforts of her apartment. It's quiet without her, but there's a sense of ease you haven't felt in a long time, like you truly belong here. You find yourself smiling for no reason, touching the small trinkets on her shelves, running your fingers over the soft throw blankets she has draped across the couch.

By the time you decide to take a shower, you're feeling entirely too content. You strip down, stepping under the hot spray with a sigh. That's when your thoughts drift back to Rio—how she looked last night, half-asleep and tousled, her arm draped over your waist, her expression unguarded in a way you'd never seen before.

Your thoughts turn to fantasy almost unbidden. You imagine her joining you in the shower, pressing you back against the cold tiles, her hands sliding down your wet skin. You can almost feel it—the heat of her breath on your neck, the firmness of her body against yours. You start to move your hand towards your aching clit, letting out a quiet, shuddering moan, lost in the fantasy of what it would be like to kiss her and have her hands on you.

You don't hear the bathroom door open, but suddenly, you hear her voice—low and amused. "You sure you're okay in here? Didn't have another fall, did you?"

You freeze, eyes snapping open. You can barely see her through the steam, but she's there, standing just outside the shower curtain, and you realise with a jolt that she must have heard you. You heart slams against your ribs as the curtain slides back just a little, and Rio steps inside completely naked, her smirk evident even through the haze.

"I really just can't trust you not to injure yourself while showering, can I?" she says, voice teasing but thick with something else—desire, maybe. Her eyes travel down your body, lingering in a way that sends a shiver through you.

"Rio," you breathe out, half a warning, half a plea.

She steps closer, crowding you against the wall, her hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck. "You know," she murmurs, her lips so close to yours now that you can feel the brush of them with every word. "I think you've been waiting for me to do this."

And then she kisses you, slow and heated, like she's been thinking about this just as much as you have. Her mouth is soft but insistent, coaxing a response from you until you melt into her, hands tangling in her hair as you kiss her back just as eagerly. The steam from the shower mixes with the heat between you, the world narrowing down to just the two of you.

When she finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard, her forehead resting against yours. "I knew it," she whispers, her voice laced with satisfaction. "You've been wanting this so badly, haven't you?"

You nod, swallowing thickly. "Yeah," you admit, barely louder than a whisper. "I have."

She grins, tugging you closer until you're pressed against her, chest to chest. "Good," she says, leaning in to kiss you again, deeper this time. "Because I've been wanting it too."

And with that, she shoves you against the wall. Hard. She's kissing you all over, igniting the skin where each one lands. She nips and sucks at your neck, finding where you're most sensitive. A moan escapes your lips, and you buck your hips, trying to get any kind of friction against your core. For a brief moment, you start to get embarrassed, but then one of Rio's hands finds its way between your legs. She dips a finger between your lips and hums at how wet you already are for her.

Looking directly into your eyes, silently telling you to keep her gaze, she lowers herself to suck on one of your tits, tongue swirling around your nipple, making it harden quickly. The hand not on your clit, starts to pinch your other nipple, pulling another loud guttural moan from you. 

Working her mouth down your torso, marking up your body as she goes, Rio sinks to her knees, her face now directly opposite your dripping cunt, eyes still locked on yours.

Her hands deftly grip your hips, steadying you against the wall. "You've got to promise me you're not going to fall again, sweetheart," she all but growls, the arousal evident in her voice.

You nod your head, but it wasn't enough for the woman, who digs her nails into your skin where she's holding you. "Ye-Yes. I promise."

That was all Rio needs before she starts to drag her tongue through your folds. Switching between broad licks along the length between your entrance and your clit, and firmer, more purposeful circles over your bundle of nerves.

You feel dizzy, but you know it has nothing to do with your concussion and everything to do with the woman kneeling between your legs. Despite your head spinning, you manage to bring your hands down to tangle in Rio's hair, pushing her harder into you. You need more.

She moans against you, clearly enjoying how turned on you are. The vibration from the moan goes straight to your core, and you nearly cum just from that. Sensing you're close, Rio pushes two fingers inside you, causing you to curse her name inbetween moans.

You feel her chuckle and then start fucking you more vigorously. "I want to hear you, baby. I want the whole floor to hear you moan my name," she says, momentarily pulling away from your pussy. You can't help but oblige as she starts to curl her fingers, resuming her licking and sucking.

With her fingers curling inside you like that, it isn't long before you climax, legs shaking, coming hard over her fingers and tongue. Rio helps you through the end of your orgasm, making sure to hold you up as you come back down. 

"Okay, darling, I think we need to sit you down before you lose another fight with gravity," Rio smirks. You can't help but agree; your knees feel very weak and it's taking all of your concentration to stay upright.

"Oh, by the way, I bumped into the maintenance guys on my way in," Rio says lightly, helping you out of the shower. "And they said that your door isn't getting fixed for at least another week. So, it looks like you'll have me to help you shower for a little while longer." Winking, she drags you to her bed, determined to continue what she had just started

[kinardsevan]

i wrote a whole ass psychology breakdown (for the first time in FOREVER) about the break-up. enjoy (if you so choose):

so I've been reading a lot in relation to Tommy's speech during the break-up (and have actually gotten through the scene several times now, mostly as a creative reference for these fix-it fics. I think one of the first things that I've seen completely tossed aside (that bothers the shit out of me as someone with over a decade of therapy treatment and a psychology degree) is whatever trauma Tommy carries.

We know that there are issues with his dad. We know Lou's lore behind him is that he spent a lot of his childhood alone. We don't know anything in relation to his mom, but she may or may not be the cause of more trauma. We know that his way of dealing with abuse of authority is to shut down and follow the leader, which is likely a mix of his military time and growing up in his father's household (and when I say this, I mean from what we saw of him under Gerrard's command). This is a person who has put years into getting himself into some version of okay after all that he's endured, and we know he still generally does it on his own.

To that end, here, have my breakdown of the break up (roughly right about the time Buck says "I want you to move in with me"). (with pictures!)

Prior to the offer, we watch Tommy process through Evan's explanation about his relationship with Abby, things being transformative for him, etc. We have to bare in mind that this is where we also start to get what I've dubbed "starry-eyed Buck". He's so in the throes of what he's saying that I don't think he's really considering the connotation of his words. At the same time, Tommy doesn't know what lore Evan is about to drop him about this prior relationship. Remember that he now has to contend with the fact that they both have strong opinions on their relations toward Abby, and Tommy can't know if their feelings toward her as a person will be the same. I think Lou played this beautifully, appearing anxious and apprehensive as Tommy listened to Evan explain that Abby was transformative for him. Then he shifts into how Tommy has been transformative for him (which, he has, and we as the audience know this, but we understand it from a bigger POV than what Evan is saying with his words.)

There have been posts about Evan putting Tommy up on a pedestal throughout this speech (and really, possibly even sooner, but this is where we really get it expressed). Tommy tries to rectify this to a degree by countering "I wasn't always that way".

To that end, we then get Evan telling him "I know, and it just makes me admire you more." Tommy gives a bashful smile, clearly heartened by the statement, and even opening his mouth as though he's going to respond to it in some form. It would be interesting to know what was on Lou's mind of what (if anything) he thought would've been said there. Are there lines that were removed in this scene? Was 'I love you' actually going to come up? We can't really know. However, there's this part of me that thinks that Tommy thought that they were having a discussion on the depth of their relationship which would've possibly brought those 7 letters to the equation. Either way, this entire bit of facial acting is SO important, because it speaks volumes about how Tommy feels about how Evan feels about him.

From there we get the "I want you to move in with me, and this, THIS, THIS is such an important point for this ENTIRE scene. It's two seconds, but it holds SO much for the narrative. This man, who seems to be on the verge of ...something, clearly (who knows if I Love You was on his mind, or if it was just the fact that Evan was expressing how much he cares about him.) The reason this is all so important is THIS REACTION:

Now again, we don't know Tommy's trauma, but the joy literally drops out of his expression and shifts to panic. Now, speaking solely from the standpoint that these two haven't even said "I love you" yet, his boyfriend steamrolled over him from a possible declaration of love straight to moving in together without discussing semantics. Further, it's not even "I want to live together", it's "move in with me". We don't know much about Tommy's house (because these shitheads haven't built him a set yet), but we know that he has a HOUSE. With a GARAGE. Buck lives in a LOFT. Regardless of how much of an asshole this makes me sound like, it's crawling with red flags. It comes across as "fit more into my life" instead of "lets do this thing together". Further, if that's not bad enough, mention of getting engaged and married is thrown at Tommy as well, which holds two major bits of information: One, these are on Evan's mind. We've NEVER heard him talk about getting engaged or married to anyone. This speaks to the importance of their relationship to him, but the lack of I Love You also speaks on his own trauma. If we truly are getting the rom-com trope, at some point there's likely to be a conversation about why he lept over it (*cough* Taylor, his parents *cough cough*). Meanwhile, as he's continued in his starry-eyed speech, this is what Tommy is giving:

Now for those who don't know how to spot it, this my friends is a PANIC RESPONSE. The shift forward, the move to get up, the literal deep breath. He's having a panic attack. Now, obviously we don't know what brought this on, but god-willing, we WILL get the answers.

Now, to his own point, Tommy doesn't just straight up pop Evan's pink bubble. He does express that it's a sweet sentiment, but that it's a bad idea. To which point we get:

"Evan, that is so sweet. But I can't move in with you." "And why not?" Because. I know how this ends." "Uh, what-what's that supposed to mean?"

At which point, we clearly get the qualities about Evan that Tommy likes. "Incredible guy. Big-hearted. Hot as hell. Impulsive." I don't feel that the expression here matters as much as his tone of voice, because we can see on his face that he's expressing these qualities from a good place. The next point of reference isn't until Tommy's next line, when he says that Evan's reaction is out of things being "new and exciting".

To that end, the way Evan is talking to him makes this statement valid. He's not talking to Tommy like they've been together for six months and have built a relationship that should be moving in this direction. (For the tenth time I will repeat, he couldn't even dignify whether he was in love with Tommy when Josh asked).

Furthermore, I think when you consider this part of the scene, you also have to consider the strain in Tommy's voice. Something about those concepts (living together, getting engaged, married) is terrifying. It definitely gives the impression that Tommy has been faced with some version of this before and he got burned. Why is this important? Because of this:

"I'm saying no matter how bad I want it to be, I'm not your last." Those 9 words are important on their own, but when you couple them with the expression on Tommy's face and what we've just seen him go through, there's a clear point to the fact that he's been through this before. I also think that there can't be enough importance placed on the way he intonates "how bad". This is not a man saying no because he doesn't want to. He's backpedaling because he's sure that he's going to get burned. We get this point further driven home with this exchange:

"I'm your first." "But hey, they can be the same thing." "But, they usually aren't."

See this doesn't read to me as someone who's scared because he knows Evan has never been with another man. They're both fully grown adults who have had multiple relationships. What this speaks to me (now) as, is someone who has let someone convince him before that he would be their forever, that they were all in, and then broke him. When you include his childhood trauma and whatever abandonment issues it's left him with in correlation with all of this, yes, it's still an extremely biphobic set of lines. But in the context of what he's expressing and why, it's not about telling Evan he needs more experience, it's about telling him that he doesn't believe that he'll want to stay settled down with him six months, a year, etc., down the road. And THAT my friends, is abandonment issues 101. "Everyone else has left, so it doesn't matter that I'm in love with you, because you will leave too, and I need to protect myself from that."

Following that, we get this: "if I were to move in with you, you wouldn't mean to, you wouldn't plan for it, but you'd end up breaking my heart."

This line is SO important, right next to Evan's exchange with Josh about his relationship with Tommy. Why? Because even though neither of them have said it, it spells out that these two are in fact in love with each other, even if they haven't said it.

"I don't think I could deal with that." Tommy is fucking GONE on him. He's expressing that if he gave himself fully over to what Evan's referring to, losing him would break him. Again, we don't have the full picture on his trauma, but we know there's a mountain there. It's also worth noting again, that the intonation he uses in these statements clearly come across as someone trying to reign in their emotions and keep it together. That says to me that we're dangeously close to touching his trauma.

I don't feel like I have to include the final few bits of the scene in gifs because they're all over the site now, but the next line gives over the fact that he hasn't really been open about his trauma to Evan, given that his immediate response to expressing all of this is "I should go". This kind of reaction is generally brought on as not being accepted for having certain feelings. Now, obviously Evan is caught off guard by the entire interaction, the same way Tommy was (but for different reasons), so we have to take all of that into account when we think about the fact that instead of countering Tommy's logic, he asks instead if Tommy is breaking up with him.

Body language is also so important here for Tommy. His shoulders are hunched in, we see him wipe his face (meaning there are likely tears), and when he turns around, he's so caught up in whatever wave has taken him over that it takes Evan asking him for Tommy to state "yeah, I guess I did" about breaking up. Further, there's the fact that he states that he didn't see the break-up coming, which goes back to my point at the top of this post, that he clearly thought the conversation was going one direction, and instead it goes the other. From this point, we have Evan reeling, because he wants to create more of a life with Tommy, while Tommy is shutting down because of whatever is holding him back.

Finally, as I've referenced before, we get this line:

"Should've known that parking spot was too good to be true."

That line makes zero sense out of context, but in consideration of someone trying to lighten the weight they're carrying (which you can literally see by the way he has his hand on his neck, which you generally only see people do as a stress response). You can also double entendre this statement that getting to be with Evan was too good to be true. We get that little inhale with the smile, and I swear to God the only time I've seen that kind of reaction is right before someone cracks.

And then in closing, we get the "I'll see you 'round, Buck," our closing gut punch. Evan is still reeling, clearly. His face is very "what the hell just happened". Tommy is clearly not okay. This entire scene has opened an entire can of worms on them without a whole lot of answers.

Now, I've owned the fact that basically from the end of 806, I felt like this had to be a swerve, and that there has to be more to the story. I've also pretty much owned the fact that if the writers did actually just do this for kicks and don't have a resolution for it, I may not keep watching. However, in the context of the fact that, for the moment, I'm choosing to put hope in some kind of resolution, these lines make so much more sense. It is worth noting though, most people in the fandom, let alone the general audience, aren't going to psychologically break this shit down line-by-line. They're not going to lean into whatever trauma Tommy has that we don't know about yet. Its why the internet has been a mess since Thursday night. But it's also why I talk about how, when this situation gets resolved (because right now I refuse to say if), Buck has to give up the loft and give more of himself. Tommy, by the nature of the show, has fully immersed himself in Evan's life, but we haven't seen or heard mention of Evan doing so at all in Tommy's life. That doesn't mean he hasn't, but we haven't gotten any version of that. So when I say Evan needs to give things up... it's about matching what he's asking Tommy to give up. Because at the end of the day, when this circles back around, he's effectively going to be asking Tommy to trust that he won't break his heart like others have, and when you have a lifetime of abandonment issues and have learned to cope by being hyper-independent and alone, moving in the opposite direction is more terrifying than anything else. ESPECIALLY when you love that person, which we saw Tommy spell out. Evan has the ability to break him (and probably already is via this cut-off-at-the-quick break up.)

So, I'm really gonna need these shit heads to figure out that they'll be more miserable apart than they'd ever be together.

That's all. Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

[kaidasdesires]

“Your Eyes Only.” : Heeseung

☾ grouping: Heeseung x afab reader

☾ rating: 18+, explicit content

☾ wc: 7.6k

☾ content warnings: aphrodisiac, altered state, y/n feels like she's been drugged, explicit sex, wax play, light choking and hair pulling, brief oral

☾ summary: Heeseung calls y/n to the studio to show her a new song he's working on. He thinks y/n is as beautiful as a piece of art and wants to show her what that looks like to him.

Or, Heeseung is a siren and uses his voice to seduce y/n and show her how good he can make her feel.

☾ author note: This story is fiction and does not reflect the personalities or desires of those it is written about. This story has some scenes that may be uncomfortable for some readers, read at your own discretion.

☾ taglist: @who-tf-soddhi , @imnotyizhuo , @deobitifull , @ochaluver , @jakeswifez , @helenngxz , @enhalusional , @d-dilemma , @heerinnie , @qeeun-didi , @capri-cuntz , @strxwbloody , @jungwonloverr , @b3tt7boop , @zara2318 , @simbabyj , @gnvi-eve , @babygirlskz98 , @nshmrarki , @50-husbands , @peonywon , @moonpri , @binneulton , @leeheeso , @roslayy , @tunafishyfishylike , @fancypeacepersona , @irenic-max , comment below to be added! <3

It had been a few weeks since the night you got drunk and Jungwon told you everything. Jungwon had still tried to avoid the conversation when he could so you didn’t get much more information out of him. However, as you predicted, nothing had changed. Even with the confession, all of the boys continued to act the same. Sure maybe a little more handsy or flirty than before but nothing crazy. 

It was late in the evening, you had just gotten out of the shower, the steam clinging to your skin as you reached for your phone. A notification lit up the screen, and your heart skipped a beat as you saw the sender's name: Heeseung.

Hey, are you awake?

You cocked an eyebrow, intrigued. It was unusual for Heeseung to text you in the evening like this. He was usually busy with practice or working on new music.

I’m awake. You okay? 

As you waited for his response, you dried your hair, a towel wrapped around your head. Your mind raced, contemplating why he would be texting you like this suddenly and at this hour.

A moment later, your phone buzzed again.

Can you come to the studio? 

A slight pang of nervousness hit you. Heeseung didn’t answer you if he was okay and normally his messages weren’t so short. Your hair was dry enough so you quickly changed into a tank top with a cardigan and leggings. 

I’m on the way. 

You texted him back, a sense of urgency hitting you as you left your house and locked the door behind you. The walk was only about 10 minutes and you quickly stopped by the convenience store to get some snacks and coffee for Heeseung. You knew he would appreciate the gesture, as he often spent long nights in the studio working on his music.

Once you got to the building you rang the doorbell and Heeseung buzzed you in. You headed to the elevator and quickly hit the close door button behind you. As you waited for the elevator to arrive on the right floor you thought briefly about how you could cheer Heeseung up if he was having a hard time. Maybe these snacks would help. 

You headed down the hallway to the studio door and when you knocked Heeseung let you in. 

“Hey!” You said a little bit out of breath from your walk and carrying things. When you sat down on the little couch you noticed that Heeseung was alone in the studio. “Where is everyone? Is everything okay Heeseung?” You asked concern in your voice was evident.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I just wanted you to hear something I was working on before I showed it to the rest of the guys.” He responded, closing the door behind you. 

“Oh!” You nodded before giving him a sweet smile. “It must be something important to you. I’d be honored.” 

He smiled back. His eyes trailed to the bags you brought with you. “What’s this?” He questioned. 

“I brought you some coffee and snacks. I was honestly a little worried Hee, you don’t typically text me this late at night.” You responded, pulling the snacks and a canned coffee drink out of the bag. 

The studio was a bit cramped. A small couch, a desk that held the music mixing equipment and Heeseung’s computer, a swivel chair, and then the mixing booth. Heeseung sat on the swivel chair in front of you. He took the coffee drink, popped the tab with one hand, and took a sip. 

“I’m just fine. Better now that you're here though.” He said. When you met his eyes he was eyeing you up and down before he took another sip. 

You couldn’t help but blush as his eyes trailed down your body. Your tank top was exposing your chest more than normal but you had just grabbed something that wouldn’t stick to your damp post-shower body. 

Heeseung stood up and pulled a lighter out of his desk before using it to light a few candles around the studio. Heeseung preferred it to be dark when he sang or was working on writing something. You remember he had mentioned before that he didn’t care for artificial light either which is why he opted for candles instead. 

“I hope you like it, I wrote it with someone I like in mind,” Heeseung said, a smirk on his face even though he wasn’t looking at you. 

“I don’t think you’ve ever shown me something I don’t like Heeseung.” You complimented him in response. Then you sat back on the couch getting more comfortable while Heeseung went into the booth and put on his headphones. You assumed his comment wasn’t about you. He started the music and your ears were met with a slow sensual beat. You closed your eyes and listened as Heeseung sang. 

My body is burning up because of you

My heart thirsts because of you

Like a fever, fever, fever, fever

His voice was so beautiful that it seeped into your ears like warm honey. The smell from the candles only heightened your senses as you listened. The smell was something like cedar, a comforting woody smell but with a hint of cinnamon. It was a nice smell. You wished that you could smell this sort of scent all the time. 

I want to embracе you

I want to embrace you

Push me away but my firе still burns

Turn to ash but the flame still rises

You opened your eyes to find that Heeseung was looking right at you as if he was singing to you. You blushed, not realizing he had been watching you. A second after your eyes met his you felt your head spin. You leaned forward and clutched onto the couch to help stabilize yourself. You weren’t the type to suddenly get dizzy like this. Maybe the smell from the candles was getting to you. Heeseung continued to sing, the melodic tune washing over you. He was still watching you but he didn’t seem concerned. 

Like a fever, fever, fever

I want to ache for you

I want to ache for you

Your body started feeling hot and tingly. You were worried you were getting sick suddenly, but you didn’t feel bad per se, just a burning sensation against your skin and a bit dizzy. If it wasn’t so sudden you argue that it felt kind of nice in a way. You lifted your head back up, and everything seemed to be moving a little bit slower than before. You looked back to Heeseung, he was still looking at you, watching you. 

Don't stop 

Yes, all day, all day burn me

Please stop 

My sun, stop baby, oh baby

I beg you, do something, anything

His voice was like fire in your veins, every note he sang you felt like an electric pulse through your body. You felt an overwhelming feeling of desire, a craving for touch and closeness. You pulled off your cardigan, the heat becoming too much for you to handle. 

You didn’t notice when Heeseung had stopped singing and exited the booth. You were still trying to understand why you suddenly felt so weird. He sat beside you and gently patted your head. His hand coming down to rest on the back of your neck. 

“It’s okay, you’ll get used to it soon.” He said, once again glancing over your more exposed skin. “It’s not too much is it darling?” he asked looking at the goosebumps raised on your arms. 

“Heeseung– what– what did you do?” you asked, head still spinning. The sudden pet name almost manages to go over your head. You wanted him to be closer, touching you, anything to help ground you. You grabbed onto his sleeve hoping it would help the feeling. 

“I know Jungwon told you about us. But I noticed that nobody has had the guts to make a move on you yet. Unsurprising really.” He replied, insinuating that the other boys were weak or scared. “This is… just part of who I am. But you're okay, don’t be afraid.” 

“You drugged me?” you asked, feeling even hotter now. That was the only thing that made sense in this situation. Or did it? How could he have possibly drugged you when all he did was light candles and sing to you?

Heeseung laughed before he placed a hand on your chin and pulled your face up to look at him. “I would never do that pretty girl. Don’t you remember what I said? I told you not to worry and that none of us would ever hurt you.” He reassured you, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk. 

That voice you had heard in your head at first the other night had been him. Now you felt crazy. A little scared and surprised by the way you couldn’t but help want Heeseung to kiss you. He was so close and you wanted more. 

“Come here, you can sit in my lap until I'm done working on this.” He spoke up, obviously aware that you didn’t want to let him go considering you still had a death grip on his sleeve. The older boy pulled your arm gently to get you to let him go before he grabbed both your hands and helped you onto your feet. Your knees threatened to buckle below you as you followed him to the chair.

This wasn’t something you normally would ever do. Of course, you found Heeseung handsome but he was always so calm and mature. You never dared hit on him because all his flirting seemed like just something he’d say to make someone feel good. You were sure he had someone he was seeing or that he wasn’t interested in you. But then again you felt that way about all the boys before Jungwon’s confession. Why would they be interested in you when they could have any girl they wanted? 

Heeseung guided you to the chair with care before he sat down. At first, you went to sit in his lap with your back pressed against his chest but he stopped you. 

“Turn around.” He said, gently turning you by the waist. His tone was somehow soft but firm at the same time. You knew he wouldn’t tolerate any pushback you gave him, so you obliged his demand. Then he guided you to staddle him and sit in his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and adjusted your hips which resulted in a quiet grunt from the older boy. You couldn’t help but press your face into the crook of his neck. Normally you wouldn’t be this bold but you just wanted to be touching him. The smell of his cologne only fueled the heat you felt as you breathed against his neck.  

After a minute of listening to Heeseung clicking on his keyboard, he instead opted for filling the room with the sound of his humming. The vibrations against your face and the sound so much closer to you made you want more of him. Why was his singing making you feel this way? 

You felt worked up, and hot. You just wanted him to touch you. It was almost subconscious when you made the slightest shift against Heeseungs hips.

He responded with a quiet “mmm.”, not giving you the response you had hoped for. 

You pressed your lips against his neck, giving him a few small kisses. Maybe that would get him to react.

Again, there was almost no response from the older boy. Instead, he just continued to hum. 

Your pussy was starting to throb. This whole thing confused you. You didn’t understand why you were so ungodly horny. You didn’t understand why your body was reacting this way. You sat there, contemplating between letting the feeling overtake you or maintaining the image Heeseung had always seen you as. At most, the boys had only ever seen you making out with a guy or in your bathing suit, besides the other night, nothing of this level of intimacy had happened between any of you. You were sure they saw you as a bit modest and shy, which wasn't necessarily true, but that's all you ever showed them.

You pushed your forehead into Heeseung’s collarbone in defeat before using your hips to grind into him. 

“Oh, what’s this?” Heeseung teased as he stopped typing and placed his hand on the small of your back, his thumb rubbing small circles on your skin where your tank top had risen on its own. 

You huffed a bit. You were desperate for him to do something at this point, but he wasn’t giving you anything. But you were too stubborn to blatantly give up your still somewhat respectable appearance. You did the same action again, except this time, you could feel that he was getting hard underneath you. 

“Darling, I’m not done yet.” he cooed, trying to act like your actions weren’t getting to him. 

You couldn’t help but let out the smallest little whine. You felt him smile, probably a cocky one. Nonetheless, he continued with his humming and typing while you continued slowly grinding against him. His cock twitched in his sweatpants begging for more friction. You obliged, tightening your arms around his shoulders to get more leverage as you pushed harder against him. 

This earned you another quiet grunt, followed by the sound of Heeseung’s laptop being shut suddenly. The noise caused you to jump. 

“You’re lucky y/n,” he said, his voice much darker than before. “You’re lucky that I'm going to go easy on you since I’m the first.” 

You felt his hand slide up your back and his fingers tangle into your hair before he tugged your head back suddenly. You squeaked, not expecting the sudden action nor the pain tingling across your scalp. 

He looked over your face. It was red, flushed with desire. Your eyes were glossy and round, begging him for more. Mouth slightly parted as you processed his actions. He smirked. 

“Look at you, so pretty and desperate for me already” Heeseung whispered, leaning into your ear “I should make you ride me right here like this.” 

His hot breath tickled against you and sent shivers down your spine. His sudden change in demeanor was intoxicating and his words made you only want more. 

Instead, Heeseung reached both hands under your ass and lifted you and himself from the chair before moving you to the couch. You clung onto him, not wanting to lose the feeling of his body against yours. He kept you on his lap, but this was more comfortable for the both of you than the swivel chair. 

You looked at him, he too looked a little bit flushed and needy, not that he would admit that. 

He reached up to grab the nape of your neck, and he finally gave you the attention you had wanted. He pulled you to him and kissed you. His kiss was much harder than the kiss at the party but it was still slow and drawn out. He kissed you passionately like he was savoring every single movement. 

His hands found your lower back again but slowly started to push up the fabric. Then they roamed over your sides leaving trails of tingling heat behind them. The kiss deepened as Heeseung’s tongue licked its way into your mouth and you started to rut against him again. 

“Fuck,’ He cursed as your clothed pussy rubbed against him. You could tell he was holding back because of the way his fingers pressed deeply into your sides, almost as if he was trying to ground himself. 

You pulled away from him, briefly taking over the lead to reach your fingers under the hem of his shirt and pull it off. You looked over him, his muscles and toned body surprising you. You hadn’t expected his body to be so nice. 

“Your turn.” He said after giving you a second to look him over. He lifted your shirt slowly over your head, keeping eye contact with you the entire time until he threw your shirt onto the floor.

Then his hands roamed the softness of your exposed body fingers gliding over your sides and under your breasts. He pulled you back down into the kiss before slowly kissing along your jawline and onto your neck. He sucked and bit on your neck not hard enough to leave any lasting marks but enough to elicit quiet whimpers from you. You ran your fingers through his hair earning a hum of satisfaction. As he continued to kiss your neck, you felt his hand travel up your back until it reached your bra, and in one smooth motion, he unclasped it. 

Heeseung pulled back from you, still maintaining eye contact with you. “Can I see you, darling?” He asked, not wanting to do anything that you were uncomfortable with. 

You nodded and let the bra fall off your shoulders and into your lap exposing your breasts. Your nipples hardened quickly at the change in temperature earning a smirk from the older boy who was already admiring you. 

“Wow y/n, you’re beautiful.” He whispered, reaching out to knead the soft mounds in his hands. You blushed, suddenly feeling shy and exposed. 

“Such a pretty girl.” He continued with his compliments, now taking your nipples in between his fingers. He played with them for a minute, rubbing them and pinching them causing you to shiver at the feeling. 

He looked over your features once more, and seeing that you maybe felt a little shy or nervous he started to hum again. This time humming quietly while he leaned down to suck on your nipples. The vibrations and the sound cause that dizzying hot feeling to overtake you again. He continued like this for a minute, swapping between his fingers and his mouth before he gently pushed you over to where you were lying back on the couch. 

You watched him as he stood up and pulled down his pants. Leaving him in just his underwear. His cock was hard and his underwear was wet where he had already begun to leak. He didn’t seem embarrassed by this and it only made you more aroused, knowing that he was just as worked up as you were. 

“Please.” The words came out of your mouth before you could stop them. 

“Hmm? Please what darling?” Heeseung replied, leaning down over you and reaching his fingers into the band of your leggings. He kissed down your stomach as he slowly pulled your leggings down. He continued to hum between the kisses, the humming keeping you intoxicated and warm. 

He pulled your leggings off, leaving you exposed except for your panties. You were so hot, but also the tiniest bit cold since his body wasn’t touching yours anymore.

“Have you figured it out yet?” Heeseung asked, stepping away from you momentarily to the other side of the room. 

You couldn’t see where he had gone since he had disappeared behind your line of sight. 

You weren’t sure exactly what he was asking, your mind consumed with just wanting him to fuck you already. “Hee,” you whined, “want you.” The second part came out much quieter than his nickname.

“Oh, I know you do pretty. But you just need to wait a little while longer. There was a pause before he continued.”You know how much I love to make art right?” He asked, voice now coming back closer to you. 

You could only nod in response. 

“Close your eyes.” He demanded gently. You did what he asked, shifting your thighs back and forth to give yourself some sort of friction, the heat and need unbearable between your legs. 

“You’re so breathtaking y/n, that I can’t help but use you as a canvas.” He said, a smirk evident in his voice. 

It was hot. Incredibly hot as it trickled down your chest, in between your breasts, and towards your belly button. You yelped, surprised by the sudden pain that quickly turned into pleasure. 

And again, burning hot down your thighs, trickling over the edges towards the couch. You fidgeted, unable to hold back the surprised squeaks every time the feeling came. 

You opened your eyes to see Heeseung standing over you, the pine and cinnamon candle that he lit earlier in hand. The red wax left hot trails across your body. He tipped the candle again, watching your face as the wax trickled inwards on your thighs towards your heat. He enjoyed watching your face squeeze up in pain followed by a wave of pleasure. 

He continued this for a while, trickling hot wax across sensitive parts of your body while admiring you. By the time he was done, red wax that almost looked like a pattern of lightning or tree branches covered your body. 

“There, now that I’ve painted my beautiful canvas, it is also up to me to ruin it.” He said, voice laced with a darkness that you hadn’t anticipated. 

He placed the candle back on the table before inviting himself between your legs. He was quick to pull off your panties, not giving you a chance to be shy or nervous. It was obvious he couldn’t hold back anymore. 

He admired your pussy. Using one finger to trace between your folds and tease your clit before running back down. 

You gasped, begging him for more without asking. 

He slipped one finger in with no resistance, and then a second. He was lacking the same patience he had had for hours beforehand. His eyes were full of a hungry lust. 

You mewled as his fingers pressed into you, the feeling relieving your aching heat just a little bit. “Ah– Heeseung,” you moaned quietly. 

He curled his fingers as he pumped them in and out of you, reaching for the spot he knew would have you squirming under him. He leaned forward over you, took one hand, and wrapped it around your throat. He didn’t squeeze enough to really choke you, but enough to make sure your attention was solely focused on him. 

“Tell me what you want darling.” He said, speeding up his movements and purposefully hitting the sensitive spot over and over. His dark eyes peered into yours as he waited. 

You moaned as your body tensed up to his touch, both hands coming up to grab onto his arm that was still around your throat. You could barely catch your breath with the way your body was tensing up, hips arching off the couch, but you knew he wouldn’t give you any mercy until you gave him what he wanted. 

“Heeseung–ah– please,” you whined, little gasps coming out between each thrust of his fingers. 

“Ah, so pretty for me honey, but not enough.” he cooed, fingers continuing their assault. 

“Nngh– please Heeseung, please fuck me,” you begged, tears pricking at your eyes. 

He chuckled, slowing his fingers down and watching you as you panted. He released his hand from your neck before pulling his fingers out and sticking them into his mouth to clean them off. 

“Good girl,” he praised, “I thought you'd never ask. All this time you’ve been trying to keep this side of you hidden from me. But look at how good you are, listening to me and doing what I ask. Do any of the other boys know you’re such a slut darling?” 

His words overwhelmed you. Sure you weren’t a virgin, but you’d never done anything with the boys. Gotten off to the idea of fucking them before sure, but that was a secret that you kept to yourself. You never wanted to risk harming them by getting caught or hurting the bond that you had with them. 

You shook your head, giving Heeseung an honest answer. 

“I’m so lucky, getting you all to myself like this, even if it's just for a little while.” Heeseung smiled, the dark glint of desire ever present in his eyes. He pulled away from you again, standing up to take off his underwear. You watched as his cock hit the skin of his stomach. You found yourself surprised once again, his cock was bigger than you anticipated. 

He pumped his length in his hand, running a finger over the head to smear the pre cum along his shaft. He looked so good like this.

With a sudden wave of desire and determination to earn more praise you sat up and replaced Heeseungs hands with your own. You stroked him a few times before leaning over and kitten-licking the top. You didn’t hear any reaction from Heeseung, so you decided to push it further. You took a deep breath before taking him into your mouth. When you sunk down on him you finally looked up at him through your eyelashes. 

“Fuck–ah fuck,” Heeseung groaned as you took him into your mouth. You had caught him off guard and were rewarded by his surprised reaction. It took him a second to compose himself, his eyes opening to meet yours. He watched you for a moment as you bobbed up and down on his cock slowly. You could tell he was savoring the view and the feeling of your mouth on him.

Then he reached forward to run his fingers through your hair, an affectionate action before his fingers tightened around the strands and pushed you farther down onto his length. 

“You’re so pretty like this y/n,” Heeseung cooed as he held you down on his cock, far enough down that you felt your throat starting to spasm around him.

You tried your best to not gag as he held you down. Tears welled in your eyes as you looked up at him. His words were gentle, but his actions were stern and dominant. 

“You’re so good darling, showing me how badly you want to please me. But,” he paused before pushing you all the way down onto his length till your nose hit his stomach, “I don’t think you could handle it.” He whispered, before releasing you completely. 

You choked as you pulled off of him, followed by a gasp for air and a few tears running across your cheeks. You hadn't been prepared to deep-throat him like that, but the action turned you on tremendously. How his words were so sweet but his actions only made you want to egg him on. To see how rough he would get with you. 

Heeseung interrupted your thoughts as he leaned over to kiss your forehead before laying you back on the couch. He got on top of you and your heat clenched around nothing as you felt his cock slide against you. 

“I’ve been wanting this for a long time y/n,’ Heeseung whispered into your neck as you felt him reach down. He ran his cock up and down your folds, sliding easily because of how wet you were. 

You gasped at the feelings before reaching up to grab onto his shoulders. 

He teased you like this for a moment, watching you carefully in between leaving kisses on your neck and jaw. 

“Tell me you want me darling,” Heeseung urged, pushing the tip against your entrance. 

“God– please Heeseung, I want you… so bad Hee,” you begged, raising your hips in an effort to coax him into you. 

With your consent, the older boy groaned, slowly pushing himself into you. He rested a hand on your cheek as he did so, watching carefully for any indication of pain. 

You leaned your head back, mouth parted in a silent moan as he bottomed out before slowly pulling back out and repeating. 

He continued to fuck you slowly, leaning down to kiss you passionately as he thrust into you. Your fingers entangled into his hair, tugging gently which earned you a moan from Heeseung between kisses. Your tongues fought for dominance, and occasionally Heeseung took your bottom lip in between his teeth. 

After a minute of this, Heeseung dipped his head back into your neck before speeding up his thrusts. He fucked into you faster and harder and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His thrusts brought out continuous strings of lewd moans from you. 

You opened your eyes in surprise when you felt Heeseungs hand press over your mouth. “Your noises are so beautiful darling, and I so badly want to hear them. In fact, I wish all the boys could hear you moaning for me baby. I wish everyone in this building knew who you belonged to tonight,” he paused, taking a moment to peer into your eyes. “But I can’t have you letting the whole building know what we are doing in here hmm? That might get me in a bit of trouble.” He finished his thought with a quick raise of his eyebrow. 

You could only nod in response as he continued his motions, a spring of tension coiling in your stomach with every thrust. 

With his hand still over your mouth, you could only listen to the sound of his panting and quiet grunts. His voice was still beautiful even in this situation. 

“Oh, by the way,” Heeseung spoke again suddenly, “I’m a siren.” 

He removed his hand from your mouth and instead moved to pull your legs up to your chest so he could get a deeper angle. Gasps and whines left you in quick succession, this position only tightening the coil in your stomach further. 

You were having trouble processing what Heeseung had just said to you and of course it was hard to believe any of what Jungwon had said was real but the new information gave you clarity on what made you feel so aroused tonight. Heeseung’s voice. It intoxicated you and consumed you and it was all at Heeseung’s will. 

You moaned quietly at the idea of this. How he could get you so worked up with just his voice. 

After a moment, Heeseung reached down in between the two of you and his fingers found your clit. He rubbed small circles as he continued to fuck into you harshly. 

You dug your nails into his back and began to tremble from the overwhelming stimulation. You knew it wouldn’t take you that long to cum considering how worked up you had been. Heeseung knew this too. 

“You know what that means?” He asked, sweat causing his hair to stick to his forehead slightly. 

You shook your head, giving him a curious look in response. 

“It means,” He smirked. “From now on, every time you hear my voice. You’ll be reminded of this moment. You’ll be reminded of how good I made you feel, and how desperate you were for me. How you trembled underneath my fingers darling.” 

The idea of this sent you into a spiral of arousal, you heard Heeseung singing all the time. He practically never stopped singing. How would you ever be able to sit in on any of their practices or concerts? Heat rushed to your core at the images and scenarios in your head. You whimpered, a small pathetic noise of desperation. 

“Heeseung,” you moaned as his fingers and thrusts continued. You felt his cock twitch inside of you, the sound of you calling his name obviously getting to him. 

You couldn’t hold back much longer and you knew he couldn’t either. His thrusts were becoming a bit sloppy and rushed. 

His eyes met yours again, neither of you saying anything for a moment before you spoke up. Your orgasm was approaching quickly now. 

“Heeseung, please, please don’t stop.” You begged, your head rolling back again as you allowed yourself to be consumed by the feeling of him fucking you. 

He picked up speed with determination and he leaned down once more kissing the side of your jaw and then your ear. 

“You’re so pretty y/n, I know you want to cum for me.” He said, his voice though not singing, sent that dizzy wave of overwhelming arousal over you again. 

“Hee—hee, please.” You cried as you were thrown desperately toward the edge, the coil so tight you could barely breathe. 

“Cum for me. Cum nice and hard for me darling. Show me how good you feel.” He all but commanded into your ear, his thrusts and fingers maintaining a slower but consistent speed and motion. 

And you did. Unsure if it was from his voice or at your own will but you came hard. You came so hard that no sound escaped your lips, you were breathless, air stolen by the waves of pleasure as they cascaded over you. Heeseung fucked you through your orgasm and kept fucking you until you shook from overstimulation. Once he finally pulled his hand away from between you he was able to focus on his own climax. 

His pace quickened, and your body still clenched around him, overstimulation causing tears to brim at your eyes. 

“Heeseung,” you moaned, and it was lewd. You sounded almost straight from a porno and that was all he needed. 

“Fuck—,” he cursed, surprised by what you had just done. His thrusts became uneven and frantic before he pulled out and came over your stomach. His quiet groans alone were almost enough to get you fired up again. 

Your head was floaty as you watched him come down from his own high. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed happily. Then his eyes met yours and he looked so much different than before. He looked at you endearingly and lovingly, any sadistic dominance gone from his eyes. 

He was quick to get up, grab tissues, and wipe you off. You looked down and saw the wax that still covered your body. That was going to be a pain to clean up but it was so worth it. 

Heeseung helped you back into your clothes before he got back into his own clothes and settled back onto the couch sitting beside you. 

There was now somewhat of an awkward silence as you didn’t know what to expect next. You honestly just anticipated that you would go home from here and it would be just like a one-night stand of sorts. 

You fiddled with your fingers in your lap, a slight twinge of disappointment at the ideas your head was creating. 

Heeseung grabbed your hand and laced his fingers in between yours. 

“Y/n, I’m sorry. For being so quiet that is.” He said, obviously having sensed your anxiety. “I’m just honestly speechless. You’re so beautiful and I feel lucky to know you and get to experience and share a friendship and… this…with you.” His other hand motioned vaguely not sure what to consider your relationship at this moment in time. 

You couldn’t help but smile at his words and nod in agreement. 

The older boy took your hand and pulled you up. He grabbed your cardigan and helped you slip it on before leading you to the door and turning off the lights. 

“Let’s go.” He said, hand still entangled in yours. 

He grabbed a sweatshirt from a hook by the door and slipped it on pulling up the hood over his head. Then he pulled out two black masks from the pocket and handed one to you before putting on the other one. He looked over to you, his eyes showing a big smile.

“Where are we going?” You asked, having enough comprehension skills to realize that he was taking you somewhere and that’s why you both needed to have your identities covered a bit. 

“Home of course,” Heeseung replied, pulling you out the door and closing it behind him. He led you towards the elevator. 

“Oh—, Home?” You questioned. It wasn’t often that you went over to the dorms so late at night. Did he mean back to your place? The boys never came over to your place either and it definitely wasn’t in good shape for any guests.

“Mhmm.” He replied as the elevator doors closed. He was still holding your hand tightly, almost as if he was worried you might not want to come with him. 

Truth be told, you were still feeling the post orgasm high and you didn’t really care where you went right now as long as it was with him.

He continued leading you outside of the building and when you made it outside he turned to head towards the dorms. 

“The dorms?” You questioned. Obviously, you knew this was the likely answer but it somehow still surprised you. 

“Yep!” Heeseung replied, not giving you anything more than short answers that way you couldn’t argue or try to change his mind. 

“But Heeseung, uhm… why?” You asked. It was late, and coming over just to hang out wasn’t really the best idea. You’d need to leave soon before you got too sleepy. 

He chuckled, his fingers squeezing yours for a moment. “I’m not going to just let you go home after that y/n. I’m not a fuck boy.” 

“Well, I didn’t say that.” You replied, whacking him on the shoulder with your free hand. He laughed again and you wished you could see his smile instead of the mask. 

The rest of the short walk was quiet except for the various sounds of isolated cars or chit-chat of other people walking around. The city truly never slept around here. 

Heeseung unlocked the door when you arrived, finally releasing your hand before pushing open the door. The dorm was quiet except for the TV in the living room which was playing some sort of anime. You slipped off your shoes and cardigan welcoming the comforting warmth of the dorm. 

Heeseung went into the kitchen to grab you both some water. As you waited you noticed that Jake had fallen asleep on the couch. You smiled and walked over to turn off the lamp that was shining in his face. 

When you turned back around you jumped, surprised to be somewhat face to face with Jungwon. He was wearing a tank top and sweatpants. His muscular arms caught you a bit off guard as he normally never wore exposing clothes like that. 

“J-Jungwon!” You whispered, trying not to wake up Jake. 

“What are you doing here so late?” Jungwon asked, his brows furrowed a bit. 

“Oh- I was just-,” you stammered.

Obviously, you weren’t going to tell Jungwon what you had been doing. But coming up with something else was impossible, your brain wasn’t awake enough to come up with anything quick enough. 

“She came with me,” Heeseung spoke suddenly from behind you once again causing you to jump. 

Jungwon looked at Heeseung, and then to you, and then back to Heeseung. Then Jungwon looked back at you and your skin prickled as you watched him eye you from top to bottom. The look in his eyes changed, but to what you couldn’t tell. His eyes stopped on your chest briefly before he nodded and his facial expression went back to normal. You flushed, Jungwon didn’t normally steal glances at you so obviously like that. 

“Ah,” he paused his tone unreadable, “That’s good. I was worried about you y/n, showing up late like this.” 

“Don’t worry,” Heeseung replied, “She’s safe with me Jungwon.” 

Jungwon nodded again before walking away and into the kitchen himself. Heeseung handed you a glass of water before he took your hand again and pulled to towards his bedroom. 

You were surprised, however, when Heeseung stopped and pulled you into the bathroom. 

“I’ll grab you some clothes of mine you can wear to sleep in. I can shower with you if you want, or you can shower by yourself if you’d be more comfortable,” he said before turning to head towards his bedroom, “Oh, and use whatever shampoo or body wash you want, everyone has different tastes so there’s a few to choose from.” 

You nodded and closed the door behind him. Processing everything that was going on was overwhelming but the idea of staying in the dorm made you feel a little giddy inside. You took a few sips from the glass of water before sitting it down on the counter. 

Heeseung’s knock brought you out of your thoughts as he slowly opened the door. In his hand were some sweatpants and a T-shirt. He smiled at you before setting them down on the counter beside the glass of water.

“Do you want me to shower with you?” He asked. Heeseung’s eyes also trailed your bare skin. “You might need some help getting all that off.” He continued pointing to your chest. 

You looked down and suddenly your face started to burn. How the fuck did you forget the wax! It’s not that Jungwon was looking at your tits but instead, he was looking at the wax that covered your chest and cleavage in tiny trails. 

You looked back at Heeseung, the mischievous look on his face told you that he knew exactly what you were thinking about right now. But it was too late now, there was nothing you could do about it. 

“I think that would be nice actually. Thank you, Hee.” You replied. 

Heeseung was happy to help. He helped you undress and got the water going for you so you could get in and enjoy it for a moment while he brushed his teeth and undressed himself. 

You let the warm water trail down your body washing away any other stress and anxiety you had about the situation. 

When Heeseung joined you couldn’t help but admire him once more. The way his bronze skin glistened in the water as it cascaded over him. The older boy took your hand and placed it on his chest.

“Don’t be afraid.” He said quietly. You tilted your head confused but when you looked up and met his eyes you saw they were now bright blue with small slits in them. The blue color was so bright it reminded you of glaciers as they floated in the ocean. His skin twitched under your fingertips as small silvery blue scales pushed through his skin in various places the water was hitting. 

“Oh—wow.” You responded, shocked by what you were seeing. 

You looked up again and saw small spikey fins that had grown out from the tips his ears. Everything else about him stayed the same. 

“Heeseung. You’re stunning.” You said, blown away by what you were seeing. When he released your hand you noticed that his fingers had become webbed too, obviously to help him swim if he was in the water. 

He smiled. “You’re not scared right?” 

“No not at all just… do you... have a tail fin?” You questioned, giving him an innocent but curious look. 

The older boy laughed. “Of course I do. I can just control it better than my scales and fins. It would be quite awkward if I just grew a tail and fell over right now wouldn’t it?” He responded, chuckling again at the image he had created in his head. 

You laughed with him at the scenario. 

Then he helped you wash and made sure to get all of the wax off your body before also helping you wash your hair. You allowed yourself to be pampered by him even just briefly. You wondered if you’d ever get to see his tail and watch him swim. 

After you both finished washing, Heeseung helped you towel dry your hair and get into his clothes before he took you along into his bedroom.

You chuckled as you watched the older boy flop onto the bed and tuck himself under the covers. 

“Well,  come here darling.” He said, patting the bed beside him and holding up the covers for you to get in. 

You got into the bed with him and he opened his arms for you to get comfortable and lay on his chest. You were surprised by how quickly his siren features disappeared after getting out of the water and drying off. It was silent for a moment besides the sound of his heartbeat in your ear

“Are you sure this is okay?” You said, breaking the silence. 

“What? Cuddling with me?” He questioned you. 

“Well, just all of it.” You replied anxiously. 

His arms tightened around you. 

“Don’t worry to much y/n. Do what makes you happiest and we will all be happy. You should know that I will— well, we all will do everything in our power to keep you happy.” He replied, his tone a lot more serious now. You could tell he was being genuine. 

You nodded, before leaning up to give Heeseung a kiss. Even though it was dark you could tell he was blushing by your sudden action. 

When you laid back on his chest, he began to hum once again. Except this time, instead of arousal you just felt warm and fuzzy. His humming enveloped you in a soft blanket of safety and comfort. You felt loved and appreciated and beautiful in his arms, and you weren’t sure you’d ever want to leave them. 

The warm cozy feeling Heeseung was creating for you was quick to whisk you to sleep but before you drifted off you wondered briefly how you had gotten so lucky to be sought after by this group of boys. You wondered if this was a dream and if you’d wake up soon. You wondered if you’d figure out what monsters the other boys were, and secretly you hoped you’d find out just like you did with Heeseung tonight. 

☾ author note: thank you for reading! this chapter is arguably the tamest out of them all so please look forward to whats to come next! can you guess who is what monster?

chapter two (coming soon)

chapter directory

[millersfinest]

can u make some like generic dating ellie headcannons? (tlou universe preferably)

i love ur writing sm!!

dating ellie williams ◡̈

cw: usual fluff, mentioned love languages, mention of joel’s death (i wanted to be as canon as possible), a little nsfw but nothing too crazy.

note: here are some semi-ooc ellie hc’s!! i feel like im so bad at headcanons, but here you go. thank you for enjoying my work, i hope you like this too pookie!

ellie! is a total introvert to her core, so no matter how she found out about you taking interest in her… she’d probably need some time to think about it.

ellie! would have you freaking tf out over it too. but she means well, she’s just a really bad over-thinker—never wanting to say the wrong thing. but she’d come around and never stop apologizing to you.

ellie! would take a little while to open up to you, if you weren’t friends first. she’s been through a lot in her life, and she fears that her trauma could scare people away.

now, if you were already friends (specifically close friends), you probably would’ve already known her deepest darkest secrets and feelings by the time you started dating. every traumatic event and every fixation she’s had since she was a child.

ellie! thoroughly believes in physical touch and quality time as a love language.

for physical touch: it doesn’t always have to be sexual (she doesn’t complain either way), she just likes to touch you—knowing you’re right there next to her. you could be doing the dishes and she’d come up behind you, leaning her head on your shoulder, with her hands delicately placed on your hips. or standing by the bar at the tipsy bison, with her fingers dipped into any of the pockets of your jeans. keeping you close.

for quality time: she does love her moments alone, but they’re always better with you somewhere near by. sometimes, when she would spend hours painting or drawing in her art room, she’d ask if you could come sit in. so you’d bring your book, or whatever you were doing, and read silently in the same room as her. while a smooth record played in the background. but sometimes, she doesn’t even ask. you could be doing the most boring thing ever, and she’d float around you like a curious bumblebee.

ellie! love, love, loves being babied—even though she’d never admit it. she has a reputation to uphold, of course. during the spring, due to the patrols and supply runs, her allergies would wreck havoc on her. that’s where you come in to nurture her back to health. she’d have tissue stuck up her nose, with her head lying in your lap on the couch. you rubbing your hand over her hair, soothingly.

“if you kiss me right now, i think my sinuses will re-open.”

“ellie, you just sneezed two minutes ago.”

“baby, pleaseeeee! i need it!” and she’d give the craziest puppy dog eyes known to man. and, of course, you’d give in. giving her the sweetest smooch ever. it didn’t open her sinuses, but she knew that. just know… she’s gonna convince you to give her another to be sure.

another scenario would be coming home after a long day at work (idk i feel like doing patrols would be like her main thing). she probably had a rough day with the lingering infected, and came back with a few injuries. the moment she stepped through the door, she’d be calling for you. wrapped in your arms, smelling like the outdoors, you’d slowly undress her and then run a bath. she loved when you’d cater to her in that way—cleaning her cuts, washing her skin from dried blood and dirt. after all that, you’d cuddle in bed, pillow-talking until her eyes shut before yours.

“goodnight, els.” smooch.

ellie! was a little iffy when it came to holidays, but when it came to your birthday it was a special affair. jackson was a healthy and happy little bubble, but because the idea of loss wasn’t foreign to her—celebrating her loved ones was very important to her.

if you didn’t like grand gestures, she’d keep it lowkey. maybe throwing a little surprise for the two of you at home; cooking you dinner, having a movie night, and giving you little trinkets she found on the road. or painting something for you in secret, then giving it to you as a gift.

speaking of cooking…

ellie! has thing for making good food. a part of me feels like joel put her on when she was young, and after he died (yeah, i’m sorry) she made an effort to keep it up. playing guitar was much harder for her since she only had two fingers and a thumb on her left hand—so she decided to pick up something else to stay close to him.

so every chance she can get, she cooks for you or both of you. when you would go on patrols, you’d make sure to pick up cook books from before the outbreak since she found them so fascinating. and you loved being her little food guinea pig. spoiler: she was a fast learner so her cooking skills were pretty good.

ellie! 100% taught you to play the song (that we all know and love) that joel taught her on the guitar. and whenever you knew she needed to hear it, you’d play it for her. and, i swear on everything, there’d be tears in her eyes every time.

and for some freaky stuff… (i won’t get into crazy detail but i just wanna be thorough ;D)

ellie! just loves loving you… making love to you—doing everything that she can to almost prove that you’re everything to her (not that she needs to but she does it anyway).

meaning: at the very best, she’s a service!top. however, i can get behind her being a switch/verse (or maybe i’m bias lmao).

ellie! probably wouldn’t strap as often as the fanfics show. especially being in this apocalyptic world—where would you get them?? if they weren’t hella old… and, i feel like she’d think they were a little silly (but if you wanted to try it, she’d oblige because what you say goes).

ellie! loves to watch the expressions of your features contort into visuals of pleasure. it’s how she knew she was being good for you—doing everything that you asked but better!

your first time: of course she was super awkward. not really knowing where to put her hands at first. but once the heat began to rise, and your bodies began to press together, her entire energy changed! she’s her most confident when she’s in service to someone (in some way)—so she makes it her prerogative to make you feel good and comfortable. you weren’t really expecting that from her, though. it only took one airy moan coming from your lips for her to completely flip the script.

her hands were firmly delicate, and she made sure to be very vocal in your ears and over your body.

overall, ellie williams is a very attentive lover. in many ways than just one.

[infiniteaugends]

Okay! I need to get this out of my head. I’ve seen some posts that are upset that people are upset about the BuckTommy break up. The core gripe of these posts is that the show still has HenKaren and so we shouldn’t be upset about the handling of the other main queer couple. Which makes no sense because BuckTommy and HenKaren fulfill different niches. One is a bisexual man exploring a new relationship and the other is two gay women who are settled with multiple kids.

However, this post is to talk about HenKaren. Yes I love them! They were the main thing that drew me to the show long before bi Buck became a thing. They are two black women in a relationship. Neither is ‘conventionally’ attractive. Hen is pretty visually queer. I love them. I want more of them in the show. However I don’t relate to them. Almost all of their storylines revolve around motherhood. There is very limited exploration of them as queer women outside of motherhood. Karen is a literal rocket scientist and that has never even been used as any sort of plot point. Like the amount of physics she knows and understands could be used to great effect. Micheal got to help break into a bank vault with Bobby, but Karen has never been used in a similar way. Like the amount of STEM knowledge stored in her brain 100% could have solved at least a few rescues. Can we explore these amazing woman as queer women instead of mothers just sometimes pls.

I read a fanfic that explored how Don’t ask, Don’t tell could have affected Karen. That she couldn’t become an astronaut because of it. I would love more of that energy in the show.

So yes you are right I am bemoaning the way Buck and Tommy’s break up was handled. I am bemoaning the lack of care given to exploring Buck’s bisexuality within monogamy. I am allowed to be upset. I am allowed to not relate to the storylines given to Hen and Karen. What happened to Hen being kinda witchy and blaming the moon cycle for her cheating? What happened to Hen and Karen and Athena’s wine mom nights? Where is our exploration of Karen as partner to a woman in a dangerous field of work? Where is our exploration of their relationship outside of kids?

You want me to appreciate the crumbs of queer representation being tossed my way? Well won’t you’re right we should be angry that Hen and Karen are treated as second class citizens in the narrative. We should be upset that their importance has been reduced to only motherhood. We should be upset that this show is mishandling all of its queer characters and letting Eddie Diaz have freedom and joy while our queer representation suffers.

BuckTommy was the straw that broke the camels trust in 911 ability to craft realistic queer lives and continue to care about them more than a diversity check mark. I will continue to watch HenKaren clips on YouTube and read fan-fiction. I will continue to engage with Bi Buck fan-fiction that heals the parts of me that Glee and this show have bruised. I will not thank them for the stale crumbs they brush from the table. Do I love Hen and Karen? Yes! Is it enough? Not anymore!

Anyway, I got a little heated and upset, but all this discourse is really just rubbing me the wrong way. Let people be upset and hurt. Their feelings are valid whether you agree.

[absurdthirst]

False Starts {Marcus Acacius x F!Plus Sized!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 18.1k

Warnings: Fat shaming, spoiled/selfish behavior, contentious siblings, insults, arranged marriages, yearning, star crossed love, pregnancy, child birth, death in childbirth, mentions of blood, death of a child, grief, drunkenness, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, oral sex (female receiving), betrayal, domestic violence, threats of harm, escape, murder

Comments: A chance meeting causes you to meet the love of your life, Marcus Acacius. The gods against you at every turn it seems, you have so many false starts in your life together.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Marcus Acacius MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

You remember the moment you met Marcus Acacius. Your older sister was carrying a basket full of olives that you'd picked from the trees. She was complaining that your father hadn't given enough for her dowry and she was lacking prospects for an important and influential husband. You sighed, knowing your sister - the beauty, the one who men trip over themselves for - is not lacking prospects. You, however, are less desirable...plumper. At least that's what your sister constantly says. She was too busy whining that she missed the raised stone on the street, falling forward, and the olives rolled everywhere when the basket went flying. That's when he appeared. His large hand stretched out to help her and she made a show of how she'd rolled her ankle. Marcus was a gentleman and carried her home in his arms while you trailed behind with the empty basket, admiring the broadness of his shoulders. His aquiline nose and his deep brown eyes. Your heart was his from that moment but you weren't the one he wanted. "Thank you for bringing my daughter home safely." Your father smiles as he shakes Marcus's hand after introducing himself and you bite your lip, admiring his strong arms.

"You are - Marcus. Wow. You've grown. The army has been good to you. You're home now?" Your father asks and Marcus nods, a confused look on his face. "I shall speak to your father." He smiles and you grip the basket, wondering what he might need to discuss. Marcus nods and turns towards you, his dark eyes meeting yours and you swear your heart stops beating. Your sister steps in front of you, a silly smile on her face and Marcus draws his gaze to her, "I best be returning home. Have a good afternoon." He says, bowing his head. Your sister giggles, "thank you, my hero. Goodbye." She says breathlessly and Marcus makes his way through your courtyard. You watch him until he disappears and your sister grins, "that's the man I want to marry." She declares and your father chuckles, "let me speak to his father and I will see what we can do." Your throat feels dry and you can't speak, knowing your sister will get what she wants. She always does.

****

“I don’t desire her.” Marcus shakes his head as he stares at his father in horror. One meeting, one good deed and he has found out that his fate is being decided for him despite his years in the Roman army. “Her father is influential.” His father reminds him. “What she lacks in dowry, she will make up for with connections.” That doesn’t matter to Marcus, he’s a soldier. “What about her sister?” He demands, having been taken with the younger sister, the one whose eyes seem to stare into his soul and touch it. Her beauty more to his appetites. “I want her, not her sister.”

“The big one? Don’t be ridiculous, my boy. A man of your status needs a beautiful wife. Not someone who clearly cannot control their gluttony. You need someone next to you who will be appropriate for a general of Rome. You are on track for the position and you need a woman worthy of that. One day, you’ll be a senator.” His father declares, already mapping out the future for his only child. “And if I refuse?” Marcus challenges and his father turns to look at him, “then you’ll be on your own. No home. No coin. I’ll disown you.”

He doesn’t make much as a soldier, not enough to have any kind of life like he had imagined. He clenches his jaw and shakes his head. “She is vain and silly. She will not be the one to make me happy.” He tries to argue but his father will not hear of it. “You will marry the older girl.” He declares and Marcus sighs. He has no choice, without his father’s approval, he would lose his position in the army and he can’t risk that.

Your sister tells you the news by squealing it so loud that it echoes off the marbled walls of your home, “I am to marry Marcus!” She declares and your eyes widen, “Acacius?” You ask and she nods, “next week. Before he leaves for another battle.” She grins and you force yourself to smile, “that’s - wow. Congratulations, sister.” You offer, knowing you have no claim over the man. He’s been in your thoughts since the moment you met him but he isn’t yours. Now, he is your sister’s intended.

Once the betrothal is set, Marcus comes over to visit every day. His father tells him that he should get to know his bride to be, but he is most eager to see you every day. Your wit and humor touches him and he loves your soft, sweet smile.

You watch as Marcus sips the cup of wine, your sister giggling over every word he says and resting her hand on his thigh without anyone seeing. You hold your own cup, taking a gulp, and you hate that you are here as their chaperone. You hate to see your sister get what she wants when she hungers for money and power. She knows Marcus is in line to become a general one day and she wants to be there to share in his glory. You take a gulp of the wine and reach for the pitcher at the same time as Marcus, his fingers brushing yours, and you pull yours back like lightning has struck you.

“Forgive me.” Marcus murmurs, picking up the pitcher of wine and motioning towards you. He will refill it for you. “Do not apologize to her.” His intended snorts and tosses her head in a move that she must believe is very becoming but comes across like a petulant child. “She should stand to drink less.” She smirks. “And eat less too.” Marcus frowns, not liking the way you are being talked about and he moves closer to fill your cup before you snatch it away. “It is hot outside.” He tells her. “She should drink.”

You shake your head, “I am no longer thirsty. I am fine. Thank you.” You say, hating the disgusted look on your sister’s face as she stares at you before she looks at Marcus, a soft smile on her face as she reaches up to caress his arm. Marcus stares at you for another moment then he sighs and sets the pitcher down. “I would like some, Maritus.” Your sister coos and Marcus sighs, “we are not yet married, Ceres.” He says and she huffs, “not yet.” You grip your cup and Ceres rolls her eyes, “I am going to find the cheese we bought from the market.” She says and stands up, making her way out of the room. “Are you prepared for the wedding?” You ask Marcus after a very awkward moment that you stared at the table.

“As much as I can be.” He doesn’t sigh, but he wants to. “I saw you in the garden this morning.” He admits, smiling when you look up in shock. “I was running to stay fit for our next campaign.” He might have run along the garden walls so he could see you, having taken notice of how often you tend the plants in your father’s estate.

Your throat closes as surprise makes your heart thump and you lick your lips. “I like to grow vegetables and flowers.” You confess and Marcus smiles, “what’s your favorite?” You are surprised by the question and you tap your fingers against the cup, “my favorite flowers are lilies and I love grapes. Easy to grow here.” You hum, “when do you deploy?” You ask and he sighs, “two days after the wedding.” Your eyebrows raise, “so soon. You won’t be able to enjoy married life.”

“I guess not.” He shrugs slightly, not really minding that. It’s not like he is a virgin, but he’s not been looking forward to fucking Ceres. She’s too self absorbed. “The emperor’s needs come before everything. Even a marriage.”

You nod, knowing that the emperor comes first, especially for the army. “That’s a shame.” You hum, knowing you aren’t upset that Marcus won’t be with your sister for long once they are married. “Ceres will be lonely without you there but she will be able to run your household.”

“My father will be happy.” The villa that had been a gift to Marcus as a wedding present wasn’t small, but it wasn’t as grand as some in the region. It was perfect for a newly wedding couple. “That will be good.” He murmurs. “And I was hoping…I was thinking maybe you’d like to stay in the villa with Ceres when I am gone. She will be all alone and I want her to have company.” He says and you look up at him again, eyes wide, “you want me to- to keep her company?” You ask and he nods, “I- wow. That’s very generous of you.” You say as Ceres comes back with cheese and grapes in a bowl.

“What are you talking about?” Ceres demands, unhappy that Marcus is far more social with you than he is with her. She is going to be his wife. Although she brushes off the annoyance by thinking that he might just be too shy to talk to her because of her beauty. Marcus turns to her and wishes again that he had not helped her that day. “I was telling your sister that I wish for her to stay with you in our home when I leave for my next campaign.”

Ceres beams, excited to be a wife and running a household for a man that will become very important in Rome. “That sounds perfect, amor.” She coos and leans in to kiss his cheek. You avert your eyes, knowing you’re going to see more affection between them once they are married. 

**** 

“You may kiss your bride.” The priest declares as everyone gathers in the front room of your villa. The space has been decorated with silks and flowers, fruit bowls on display with copious amounts of wine. You look down at the marble beneath your feet as Ceres throws her arms around Marcus to kiss him, unconcerned for the family members in the room. “Congratulations.” You tell them once they have signed the marriage contract and your parents have spoken to them.

“Thank you.” Marcus smiles at you, thinking that you look beautiful in the silky, flowy dress that you had chosen for today and the flowers that are tucked into your hair makes you look serene. Again, he wishes that you were the one that he had been allowed to marry, instead of Ceres. Her simpering and batting her lashes at him throughout the morning had annoyed him.

Ceres wraps her arm around his waist, “my handsome husband.” She coos and caresses his cheek with her other hand, “maybe when you’re staying with us, you can work on eating less and then maybe you’ll find a husband.” She says and you inhale sharply, “perhaps.” You choke out, feeling that suffocating sensation in your chest when your sister drags her eyes along your form, knowing she’s assessing every flaw.

“You should be nicer to your sister.” Marcus chides softly, frowning at his new wife. “She does not need to change.” Ceres scoffs and rolls her eyes but Marcus doesn’t relent. “I would not allow a soldier under me to talk about someone else that way.” He tells her.

“Well it’s a good thing I’m not a soldier, I’m your wife, and I’ll be under you in a different way tonight.” She giggles and you sigh, “I’m going to get some air.” You make your way through the villa to stand outside, wrapping your arms around yourself, and you look up at the stars with tears in your eyes. Ceres has gotten what she wanted. Just like it has always been.

Marcus huffs and drops his hand from Ceres’ waist. “I’m going to get a drink.” He murmurs, unsure why two women raised in the same household could be so different.

**** 

You look up at the villa that will be your new home until Marcus returns from battle, and sigh. Ceres will be torture to live with but the freedom you’ll gain being away from your parents has you willing to endure her venom. She grins when she sees you, married life clearly suiting her as she comes over to hug you. “Welcome sister. Isn’t this marvelous?” She gestures to the villa, “of course once Marcus is promoted, we will be moving to. A bigger home.” She says like it’s inevitable and perhaps it is but you hate how she always wants more. “Where’s Marcus?” You ask and she takes your arm, “he’s packing his bags. He will be departing shortly. He slept in this morning. We had a rigorous night of lovemaking and I think I wore him out.” She giggles and you frown, trying to block out the thought of her and Marcus in bed together. “He was very enthusiastic. In fact he finished inside me-” She grins and you are grateful that the man himself appears and stops her from continuing her story. Marcus says your name as your eyes meet his and your heart flutters in your chest. “Good morning, Marcus.” You smile at him, “you ready for your departure?”

“I am.” Marcus nods as he is struck by how pretty you are. It had been difficult to take Ceres to bed and he had thought of you while he had been inside her. Your sweetness, your softness was what he wanted. Not the vain and selfish ways of your sister. She did not care about anyone but herself and that was obvious by her being unwilling to learn how to pleasure him.

“I am sure you will miss your wife during your journey. I will make sure she is taken care of.” You promise him, wanting him to know that someone with sense is left in charge of his household. Ceres will spend his coin like there’s no tomorrow. He nods, “I appreciate that.” Ceres scoffs, “I don’t need anyone to look after me but I appreciate your care, sister.” She scoffs and reaches for Marcus. “I am leaving now.” He announces and she grabs his face to drag him towards her, her lips pressing against his. You avert your eyes to give them a moment but you don’t notice Marcus doesn’t close his eyes, he watches you. “I shall miss you dearly, amor.” Ceres coos, caressing his cheek.

You watch him go, your heart aching, and you decide to rush out to him as he’s about to step into the carriage. “May the gods bring you home safe and healthy. We shall miss you.” You tell him even though it’s only you who will miss him. Despite it being a short time that you’ve known him, he’s buried in your heart and you’ll carry him with you always. He nods, his dark eyes burning into yours, and he stares at you for a moment before he gets into the carriage. You watch it as it disappears down the cobbled street before you make your way back inside. “What was that about?” Ceres asks with a scoff, “I wanted to tell him that I’d ensure your happiness and safety during his absence.” You lie and she scoffs again, “like you’d make me happy. Go fetch me some wine. That would make me happy.” You nod and follow her order, knowing you’ll do whatever it takes to ensure Marcus returns to a well run home. 

**** 

“Oh I have wonderful news!” Ceres grins as she comes into your bedroom, her robes swaying around her feet. “Oh?” You ask, looking up from your scroll. “I am with child.” She declares and your jaw drops. “You’re - wow. Con- congratulations, sister.” You tell her and she spins around, “I shall send word to Marcus to inform him of the good news. Hopefully that will guarantee his safe return home with the news of his son being born.” You don’t argue and say she doesn’t know if it’s a boy yet but you hum, “I’m sure he will be ecstatic.”

Marcus sighs as he reads the message. He had tried not to spill inside Ceres, but he had not been quick enough to pull out in time. Now she is expecting his child. The news should be joyous, but he is dreading returning home and pretending to be happy. His father has sent word that his wife is not very prudent with his coin, spending lavishly. He wonders if you are helping her spend, or if your time has been spent in the villa’s gardens like it had been when you were at your father’s home. “Major.” His attention is taken by the soldier entering his tent to remind him that it is time and he nods. “I am coming.” He looks down at the message again and leaves it on his desk. He cannot worry about that now, the last day of the war has just begun.

Your sister is near to giving birth and she has made your life hell. Sending you all over town to fetch the things she craves, spending coin like it will disappear despite you warning her to be more conservative with her husband’s money. She has no concern about that. “He will make more.” She said flippantly and you couldn’t argue. You’ve spent your days in the garden, growing vegetables and flowers. The summer sun has led to the garden flourishing and you are glad to have contributed to making the villa a home for Marcus to return to. You are in the gardens when you hear the carriage pull up outside, trunks being carried, and you scramble onto your feet. Your robes are dirty with soil but you rush through the home, your sandals flopping against the marble as you run towards the front door where Marcus stands, returned from war. “You’re back.” You declare breathlessly, a wide grin on your face as you stare at him.

You are a sight for sore eyes and he smiles back at you, pulling you in for a tight hug. There had been close calls and new scars he now carries on his body. “You have been well?” He asks quietly in your ear before he pulls back. “You are more beautiful now than when I left.” His smile slips into a frown. “Has your father made a match for you?”

You shake your head, “no. He thought it was best for me to remain with Ceres while she is pregnant. I trust you heard the news?” You ask and he nods, “yes. Ceres sent word.” He says but he doesn’t sound happy about it. “She’s due any day.” You inform him, “and she’s anxious for your return.”

“Then it is good I made it back before she gave birth.” Marcus says woodenly. He doesn’t feel connected to this baby or his wife, but he watches you closely.

As if on cue, Ceres’s scream echoes in the villa and your eyes widen as you rush to find her. She’s hunched over the chair in her bedroom, heaving in a breath and water on the floor. Your eyes widen, “you’re in labor.” You rush over to her and turn to Marcus. “Find the midwife. She needs them.” You order and rub Ceres back as you try to get her on the bed. “Marcus? You’re back.” She gasps.

“I’m here.” He promises, eyes widening in surprise at how large his wife has grown with the baby. “Do you need anything?” He asks quietly, unsure of what she could possibly require but feeling compelled to ask.

“Just go fetch the midwife. Ask Antonia to find her.” You demand, helping your sister onto the bed and she cries out in pain. “It’s okay.” You promise, “it will be okay.” You are panicking a little and you watch Marcus leave to go fetch the housemaid before you let your sister squeeze your hand.

Marcus rushes off to find Antonia, although he’s not sure which one she is. He’s not spent much time in this house and he’s sure that someone else was in charge when he had left. Pointed in the right direction, he demands the midwife be sent for. “My wife is in labor.”

You fetch some water for your sister, allowing her to drink and to wipe her sweaty forehead as she grits her teeth through another pain. Marcus comes back in, feeling lost and unsure as he watches you pat Ceres’s forehead with a damp cloth. “The midwife will be here soon.” He promises and Ceres pants, batting your hand away. His eyes meet yours as you stand up and place the cloth back in the bowl, softening, and you don’t notice as you focus on your sister who says your name, “go. I want to speak with my husband.” You nod, making your way out of the room to give them privacy.

Marcus sits down and picks up the cloth to wipe her forehead. “Are you in a lot of pain?” He asks, concerned. He does not have a lot of experience with childbirth, none actually. The camp followers would deal with the bastards born in their own area, the mothers recovering in peace while still traveling along with the army.

She bats his hand away, “don’t touch me.” She hisses, “you’ve been away this entire time, leaving me with her.” She spits your name and Marcus frowns, “your sister…she seems to have looked after you.” He observes and Ceres shakes her head, “she’s been hovering around me. Getting me whatever I desire but she’s - the way you look at her.” She hisses through another contraction, “like she’s the moon and the stars. Like she’s - shit - like she’s Venus.”

“I haven’t been here to look at her.” He reminds you, but she shakes her head and shoots him a hateful glare. “The day we married, you were looking at her like she was the one you wanted to marry. The day you left, you smiled at her and barely kissed me goodbye.” Marcus looks away, feeling guilty because he knows that is true. “You are carrying my child.” He murmurs. “You are my wife, not your sister.”

“You’ve never looked at me like you look at her. Even on our wedding night, I thought I heard you moan her name but figured it was my imagination. I am the beautiful one. I am the one you should want. She’s nothing. Once the baby is born, she is to be sent away and you are never to talk to her, let alone look at her again.” Ceres demands, gripping her belly.

Marcus scoffs at how disgusting that she is talking about you. “You will not have any say in what she does.” Marcus reminds her. “Your sister isn’t married to me, you are. You got your way.”

“But I wanted all of you. I am giving birth to our child. You are mine. I want all of you, Marcus.” She pleads, “I want the General I was promised.” She demands and hisses as another contraction hits her, making her chest heave.

She is suffering and Marcus doesn’t want her upset while she is giving birth, even as difficult as she is. “You have me.” Marcus promises, reaching out and smoothing her hair away from her face. “I am here. Right beside you.” She doesn’t push him away this time and he takes that as a good sign. “You must relax. The midwife will be here soon.”

She grips his hand just as you enter the room with the midwife. “There now dear, I’m here. Let’s see what’s going on. Your little one is on their way.” She smiles as she sets her things down, “do we want the father here?” She asks Ceres, her eyebrows raised, and your sister nods as she grips Marcus’s hand. “Go fetch me cloths and warm water.” She orders you and you nod, rushing off to get what she wants.

Marcus doesn’t watch you leave the room, feeling Ceres’s eyes on him. Instead, he turns to watch her. Bringing the cloth up to bathe her head again. He doesn’t love her, but he owes her his loyalty. She is having his child. “Be strong.” He urges her softly, the same thing he would tell injured soldiers on the battlefield.

It seems like hours that Ceres is in labor. Her cries echoing through the villa and you stay away, having seen the look on her face when you entered the room. You hear her cries and you look out at the high sky, wondering how long she’s going to be laboring for.

“You must walk.” The midwife shakes her head and frowns as Ceres pants, leaning over the bed. “The babe is stubborn and will not come out.” Her worry is starting to grow, but she has not said anything so far. The girl is young and strong, she will be fine if she would just heed her advice. “Let me help you.” Marcus offers, taking hold of her waist.

Ceres cries out when she tries to move, her legs shaking as she stands up and when she does, she feels blood rush between her legs. Her hand slides under her gown and her eyes widen when she pulls her hand out and it’s covered in blood. “Oh gods.” She chokes, “I feel- I need to push.” She says, feeling the pressure between her legs and she wants to push.

“Shit.” Marcus scoops his wife up and carries her over to the chair that is used to bring children into the world. “Help her!” He demands, looking to the midwife for help.

The midwife looks pale as she comes over to Ceres. “You must push. On the count of three. Inhale deeply and push, dear.” She orders, rubbing her back as Ceres reaches for Marcus’s hand, squeezing as she starts to push.

“Push Ceres.” Marcus commands, holding her hand and the sudden dread washing over him nearly makes him sick. He can tell that the midwife is nervous, that she is unsure of what will happen. “Push our child into the world, wife.” He squeezes her hand gently.

She pants, squeezing his hand, and she pushes. Tries to push as hard as possible but the baby isn’t coming. “You need to push harder.” She urges and Ceres shakes her head, “I’m so tired. I can’t.” Marcus leans closer, “you have to.” She cries as she pushes, her scream echoing off the walls as she pushes until the babe slides free from her body. The cry doesn’t come and the midwife gathers the babe in her arms, patting their back to clear their airways and get them to cry.

"My baby." Ceres gasps, nearly slumping over on the seat until Marcus is holding her upright. Her eyes are rolling back in her head and it seems like the blood is still pouring out of her. "Ceres! Ceres! Stay awake!" He shouts, seeing her nearly slipping into unconsciousness.

She doesn’t respond and he lays her down on the bed, shaking her as she bleeds onto the sheets. “Wake up.” He demands, gripping her shoulders but she doesn’t respond. 

“You had a son, Major Acacius.” The midwife says, wrapping the unresponsive baby in the cloths just as you return to the room with hot water. Your eyes widen at the blood covering the marble floor, your sister on the bed, and the baby in the midwife’s arms that is not crying. “No. No. No.” You cry, rushing over to the bed to find your sister with a blank stare, glazed over. “Ceres. Please.” You beg, caressing her cheek. She may have not been the best sister but she’s still your blood.

Marcus almost refuses to believe this is happening. “The baby-“ he asks blankly and the midwife shakes her head. “Dead.” She murmurs softly, moving to place the small bundle beside Ceres and check her. It doesn’t matter now, she’s gone. The wife he has never cared for has died. Died knowing that he hadn’t loved her, that he had wanted someone else. The gods are cursing him for his selfishness.

You sob for the loss of your sister and the baby she carried. The midwife closes her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest while you cry, stroking her cheek. She may have been cruel but she was your blood. “Marcus.” You choke, reaching for his bloodied hand. “She’s - oh gods.”

Guilt claws at his throat, but he doesn’t pull away. The little bundle that holds the body of his son cradled against his mother’s body and he clenches his jaw to keep from weeping. Not because he loved Ceres or the child she carried, but because he had killed her. “Go- tell her father.” He chokes out to the midwife.

The midwife nods, rushing from the room to find your father and you brush the damp hair from Cere’s forehead with your other hand. You feel guilty for being so jealous of her and you look up at Marcus, “I’m so sorry.”

Marcus stares at the body of his wife, his child. “I- they are gone.” He can’t believe it. “She- I just got home. She was here.” He is trying to process it, but he’s having a hard time. The guilt of his actions weighing down on him.

You squeeze his hand, “I’m so sorry.” You whisper, knowing that he must’ve loved her and wanted her. If you could take her place, you would, so she could be the wife and mother she wanted to be. The midwife stands aside for several moments as you cry and Marcus stares in shock. “We will need to take the bodies soon. I’ll fetch for the undertaker.” She says, rushing out the room and she takes a moment. She’s seen many women die during childbirth but most men are devastated to lose their wives. Marcus Acacius seems indifferent.

“Was she- was she happy while I was gone at least?” Marcus asks, turning to you and his heart breaks to see the devastation in your eyes. The truth is, he didn’t know his wife. What he did know was shallow and spoiled so he had not had too favorable of an opinion of her. She still did not deserve to die. He can only hope that her months carrying the babe that ended her life weren’t miserable.

You nod, “she was. She was happy spending your coin and showing off her home, talking about her handsome new husband. She was talking about how wonderful life was going to be when you eventually became a senator after becoming general. She had hope for a glorious life.” You say bitterly, knowing she didn’t sit out and enjoy the sunshine. She was too busy worrying about what other people thought of her. “She was happy in the way she can be.” You add, shifting from the bed.

“At least she had some happiness.” He closes his eyes and sighs. This was not the way that he wanted to come back home. “I need a drink.” He admits hoarsely, but he still opens his eyes to stare at the bodies. “But I do not want to leave them alone. A boy?” He chokes out when he realizes what the midwife had told him. Ceres had given him a boy, a child. He moves over to the bed and touches the small bundle. “I had hoped that she would not get pregnant those two days we spent together.” He admits. “But the gods had other plans.”

“I can get you a drink.” You promise, shifting off the bed and you nearly slip in the pool of blood. “Take your time. Be with your family.” You walk around to rub his back, “you are not to blame, Marcus. The gods have their plans. As mysterious as they may be to us. She is in Elysian Fields now with your boy. She’s at peace.” You try to find comfort in that, knowing that your sister was not a nice person but you hope she’s at peace.

He feels like a fraud, but he nods and turns to watch as you slip out of the room. Turning back to Ceres, he sighs and wonders why he is not upset that she has died. He feels guilty, because it is his fault, he got her pregnant. But he will not miss her. “You should have married someone else.” He tells her body quietly. “Someone who would have treated you like you wanted. Who would have been here for you.”

**** 

Ceres was laid to rest with the child who was named Fabius on a cooler day, the sun shining in the sky, and Marcus was numb. He hardly spoke and you figured that was down to his guilt of not being there for his wife. Your father demanded you return home but you begged for him to let you stay with Marcus. “His villa needs to be maintained until he can find another wife. I would like to honor Ceres by maintaining the home she loved so dearly. At least until I have a prospect for marriage.” You tell your father who narrows his eyes but nods, allowing you to remain with Marcus who has been visiting the baths frequently, drinking wine, and staying away from you. Maybe it’s because you remind him of Ceres in a way. You don’t take offense and you are working in his garden when you look up to find him standing there watching you. “Marcus.” You gasp, shifting to stand with dirt on your robes, “you’re home.”

You have been such a quiet strength. Steady and sure. Beautiful and blooming everyday. More and more wine is needed to combat the guilt that curdles in his stomach, the need that makes his loins ache every time he sees you. “It should have been you.” He tells you thickly, the wine heavy on his tongue and addling his brain. He means that you should have been his wife, that you should be in his bed but it comes out accusatory.

Your eyes widen, your stomach twisting, and you flex your fingers, “me? You wanted - if I could’ve taken her place so you’d have your wife and son, I would. I would do it in a heartbeat.” You promise with a choke, “she didn’t deserve that. Even if she was…I wish I was dead instead of her.” You declare, knowing he must look at you with resentment that you’re in his house and she isn’t.

“No!” Marcus frowns fiercely and grabs your arms, although he could never treat you roughly. He drags you closer to him, the wine on his breath washing over you. “You should have been mine. Not her.” He confesses right before he lunges forward and smashes his lips against yours with need and desire making him act foolishly under the inhibitions wine gives him.

You give in for a moment, leaning into his touch, and your hands grip his tunic, until you gasp and push him away. Your lips tingle and you shake your head, “you’re drunk and we - Ceres. We can’t do this.” You lower your hands from his tunic and step back, “I’m sorry.” You rush out before you run from the courtyard, your heart pounding.

Marcus calls out your name, feeling the loss of your warmth against him and feeling like he is about to collapse on the spot. You don’t want him and he has to live with that. Stumbling towards the villa, he decides to drink more to forget what your lips feel like under his.

**** 

You’d tossed and turned all night, not getting any sleep as you replayed the feel of Marcus’s lips on yours over and over again. They felt so perfect and the guilt rolls in your stomach again, making you nauseous. Ceres would kill you for kissing her husband. But Ceres isn’t here and Marcus is struggling. You dress and decide to find the man. He’s in the courtyard, fruit cut up on a plate for him along with cheese and meats and you approach him cautiously. “Marcus.” You murmur his name and he sighs, turning to look at you, “good morning.” You take a seat opposite him, picking up some berries. “About yesterday-” You begin but he cuts you off. “I’m sorry. I overstepped and I had too much to drink.” He explains and you reach for his hand, “it’s okay. I know you miss Ceres.” You squeeze his hand and he shakes his head, “you cannot miss someone you never truly knew.” He explains and you frown when he continues. “I feel guilty. I caused her death.” He says and you shake your head, “you didn’t cause her death. The gods wanted to take her. There’s nothing you could’ve done.” You promise, squeezing his hand again, “did you - yesterday you said it should’ve been me. I should’ve been yours. Did you- I’ve been thinking about it all night.”

He sighs, wishing that he had never said anything. He looks down at your hand in his and he can’t help but rub his thumb over your knuckles. “When your father approached mine about a marriage between Ceres and I, I told him that I wanted you.” He admits, glancing up at your eyes and then looking down at your joined hands. “I never wanted your sister.”

Your eyes widen, “me? But Ceres was the beauty. She reminded me of that every single day.” You scoff softly, knowing that you should be struck for speaking ill of your dead sister but her being gone doesn’t change the truth. “I wanted you. I - I tried to not be jealous but I was. She didn’t deserve you and I- I didn’t either but I wanted you. I want you.” You add, “it’s so wrong but I want you, Marcus. I love you.”

“I never loved her.” He admits in shame. “I love you.” He frowns. “I married her because my father threatened to disown me if I didn’t.” He swallows. “I want you.”

His words wash over you like sunshine and the guilt swirls in your belly but you can’t help yourself. You lean in to cup his cheek with your other hand, caressing it before you lean closer to softly kiss his lips.

His food is forgotten as Marcus drags you down into his lap. Your bigger size doesn’t bother him, in fact, he prefers the fact that his hands don’t fit around your thighs or waist. Deepening the kiss with a groan as he starts to harden underneath you.

You moan into his mouth, sliding your hand into his dark locks and you straddle him. His tongue pushes into your mouth and you are bold, sliding your tongue against his.

He tightens his grip on your body and pulls you closer, feeling more alive than he has since before his wedding day. His hands sliding over your back and down to your ass to grope it.

You grind down onto him, knowing you shouldn’t be doing this but it’s Marcus, the man you’ve loved for months and you want him. You want to be selfish after so long of putting other people first, like your sister.

His hands slip under your dress and he squeezes your thighs. Grabbing you greedily and gorging himself on your lush body. He breaks away from your lips and starts to kiss down your jaw, wanting all of you.

You gasp as he nips at your jaw, his hands sliding around to squeeze your bare ass and his calloused hands make your heart pound in your chest. “Marcus. I haven’t - I’ve never- but I want you. I want to give you all of me.”

You are untouched. Marcus pulls back and stares at you in wonder. “Are you sure?” He asks. “There is no taking it back.”

You nod, caressing his chest over his tunic, “it’s yours. No matter what happens. I’m yours, Marcus. I always have been. That’s why I wanted to stay here and help Ceres. Even if you weren’t mine, I wanted to be yours.” You confess, kissing your jaw.

Marcus is strong. He has pushed catapults and wagons that have been stuck in mud. He guides your legs around his waist and picks you up from his lap, chuckling when you gasp and cling to him. “I have you.” He promises. “You are perfect for me.”

You are shocked at the way he picks you up but you’d be lying if it doesn’t make your stomach clench in arousal at how strong he is. He carries you through the villa and you kiss along his neck, “my room.” You order, not wanting him to take you in the bed he shared with Ceres. He grunts in agreement and soon you are in your bedroom. He doesn’t put you down, he spins and presses you against the wall, his lips against yours within seconds and you gasp his name into his mouth.

Marcus grinds against you, pressing you into the cool wall and twitching against your core through the thin layer of his tunic. He could merely pull himself out from under the fabric and push inside you, but you deserve more than that. He drags down the top of your dress and kisses down your throat before he takes a nipple in his mouth to feast on your sensitive bud.

Your gasp echoes off the marble walls as he bites down on your nipple, your fingers tangling in his hair and your thighs tightening their grip around him. “Marcus!” You cry out, back arching to push more of your breast into his hungry mouth.

He loves your innocent cry, spurring him on and his headache is banished by the arousal that is coursing through his body. Sucking on the stiff peak and then laving it with his tongue before he is turning his attention to the other breast. Loving how sweet you taste.

Your hands caress his back as he takes what he wants from you and your legs shake when he sets you on the ground. “What-?” You gasp but he’s kneeling and shoving your robes up, exposing you to the arm before his face is buried between your thighs. You cry out and subconsciously lift your leg up onto his shoulder to grant him more room as he slides his tongue through your folds.

He never pleasured Ceres like this, never wanted to. But he had obsessed about the way you would feel and taste. His encounters with the camp whores were all women that looked like you and he could pretend he was with you. He had let one teach him how to pleasure her with you in mind even though he would never have imagined actually getting to touch you.

Your eyes flutter closed and you tangle your fingers in his hair as he slides his tongue into your cunt. You’re dripping wet with desire for him and you moan his name when he slides his tongue up and sucks on your clit. It’s intoxicating, like too much wine, and your stomach twists with arousal as he tastes you.

Marcus groans, completely obsessed with the way your cunt leaks for him. Flowing like a river and dripping onto his chin. He holds onto your hips and pushes his tongue deeper inside you.

You moan at the way he seems ravenous for you. His fingers digging into your flesh makes you whine and you rock your hips down to grind against his chin. “Fuck.” You curse, unable to stop yourself as you are devoured by him. “Oh gods. I- my stomach.” You moan, the sensation unfamiliar.

He growls into your folds, wanting to see you come apart for him, wanting to experience it. He doubles down on his efforts to make you cum, feeling your legs shake as you try to stay upright.

The whine that escapes your lips is almost inhuman and you gasp when he sucks on your clit again. It’s a sensation that has your chest heaving and you tug on his hair until finally, the high hits you. Your thighs shake against his head and you gush against his tongue while you cry out his name, head thrown back to hit the wall as pleasure overwhelms you.

Sweet as honey. Marcus laps at you frantically as you coat his tongue in your arousal. Working you through it and wanting every drop that he can get.

You slump over him, unable to help yourself as he works you until you are gasping for breath. “Marcus.” You whine, lowering your shaky leg and you shift to kneel, pushing his body back so you can press your lips to his, sliding your tongue into his mouth to sample yourself from him.

Marcus groans, letting you explore his mouth and taste yourself. His cock is throbbing but he isn’t rushing this. He doesn’t want it to end. “Bed.” He pants out when you pull away.”

You reluctantly stand up, taking his hand to guide him to the bed and before you do, you reach for the hem of his tunic. Your eyes meet his and he nods as you lift it over his head, exposing his body to your eager gaze. "Marcus." You moan, your hand immediately wrapping around his hard cock.

Marcus shivers, knees trembling at your inexperienced touch. “You are so beautiful.” He growls, watching you as you explore his cock. It might be the first time you’ve ever seen a man, let alone touched one.

You are entranced by him, the first time you've ever seen a man naked like this beyond the time you accidentally stumbled into the men's baths. You pump him, admiring the ridges and veins of his length. Thick in your grip, you look at him until he leans in to kiss along your throat, his hand reaching for the pin that keeps your dress together.

“I will be gentle.” He promises as he unpins your dress and lets it fall to the floor. Leaving you bare and he groans when he sees your nude body bare before him. “Fuck,” he hisses, twitching in your palm and leaking a heavy dribble of pre-cum from the purple head of his cock.

You swallow harshly, nervous that he doesn't like what he sees. You release his cock to cover your breasts, your arm crossing your stomach as you cross your legs. "I- I am not - I am not like Venus." You confess, knowing that your sister was much thinner and less curvy.

“You are better than all the goddesses.” Marcus breathes out, eyes drinking in your perfect form and he reaches for you. Pulling your arms away from your body. “Perfect. Beautiful. Luscious.” He pants slightly. “I have never seen anything more stunning than you.”

You inhale sharply at his words, your heart pounding and you offer him a breathless smile. “Marcus. I need you.” You plead, shifting to lay down on the bed and you drag him with you as you settle on the sheets.

This is the wedding night he had imagined. The woman he had wanted in his bed. Marcus presses his lips to every single part of your body that you had covered in embarrassment. Making sure that you understand how much he loves your body. “I love you.” He groans, settling between your thighs.

You caress his arms up to his shoulders and around his back as he grips his cock. Your nails dig into his flesh as he starts to push into you, “I love you.” You gasp, throwing your head back at the intrusion and you hiss at how he stretches you.

Marcus had taken Ceres with a sharp determination. Eager to get the act over with, but now he takes his time. The slow roll of his hips seems to take forever as he presses his lips to your exposed throat. “Fuuuuuuuuck.” He hisses in pleasure. “So right.”

He stretches you out and seems to pull you apart as he pushes deeper until he’s pressed as deep as he can go. The sting of him pressing through your innocence was minor and you tilt your head to press your lips to his again as you adjust to his girth. “Marcus.” You plead against his chin, “take me. I’m yours.” You vow, wanting to feel him.

“Mine.” He growls, nodding as he starts to pull his hips back to move. “You are so perfect.” He hisses, loving how soft you are. How you cushion his body and take the smooth thrust so easily.

You feel surrounded by him and you lift your hips to wrap your legs around him, your heels pressing into his thighs. “Gods, this - you feel so good.” You moan, having heard about the pleasures of the flesh but you’ve never experienced it before. It’s overwhelming and incredible.

Marcus bites down on your neck, nibbling and sucking as he starts to set a steady rhythm as he rocks his hips. Working his cock in and out of your hot cunt. “You are amazing, better than I imagined.”

You moan when he thrusts deep and your hands slide up into his hair, dragging his face to yours so you can kiss him. Your tongue slides against his, gaining confidence as he moves inside you. “I’ve imagined you far too many times. Felt so guilty.” You admit, “but you’re mine now.”

Marcus closes his eyes, moaning at your confession. He imagines you in this bed, touching yourself as you whimper his name. Grabbing one of your thighs, he pushes it back towards your chest, thrusting even deeper as his hips slap against yours. “Always yours.” He groans, twitching deep when you clench around him. “Fuck.”

His words make your heart lurch and you kiss every piece of skin you can reach. You whimper and rock your hips up to meet his, “Marcus. You - gods. You feel like you’re in my throat.” You confess breathlessly, “it’s so good. Fuck. I- I love yo- oh!.” You moan when he hits something inside you that makes your walls flutter and his chuckle puffs against your chin. He focuses on that angle and each thrust takes your breath away. “Oh gods. I’m going to - Marcus! Marcus!” You cry before your mouth opens in a silent scream as he sends you over the edge in a tidal wave that soaks his cock.

His teeth snap together, barely holding onto his control as he fucks you through the first orgasm you’ve had on a man’s cock. You are so incredibly wet, the noises coming from him rocking into you sound so loud. “So good.” He pants. “So perfect.” He feels his own orgasm rocketing closer, but he braces his hands on the bed, wanting to pull free before he cums so he doesn’t plant a baby inside you.

You moan his name, wanting to see him fall apart above you, and you caress his chest, “want to watch your pleasure.” You tell him with a moan and he grunts as he thrusts into you a few more times before he’s pulling free of your cunt, a grunt escaping his lips as his cock jerks with streams of seed that splatter your folds and nestle in the curls between your thighs. You reach down to wrap your fingers around his cock, pumping him to work him through it.

Marcus whines out your name, feeling that bliss that comes from sex, but it’s so much more. Rocking his hips into your hand and watching you touch him. “Fuck baby, I love you.”

“I love you too.” You promise him and he pants when you release his softening cock, sliding your hand up to cup his cheek so you can drag him towards you to kiss your lips. “I’ve always loved you since that day you carried Ceres home.” You promise, “I want to be yours, in every way.”

"I want that too." Marcus admits, although he feels guilty. "I hate that your sister died because of me, but I never loved her. I wanted you, from the very beginning. It is why I would always talk to you when you were chaperoning us."

You sigh, “I miss her.” You admit as he flops down beside you and pulls you into his side. You fling your leg over his, your hand caressing his chest. “I know.” He murmurs, knowing his guilt over losing his wife and child threatens to send him over the edge but you’ve kept him on stable ground. “Let us see what tomorrow brings. For now, I want to savor our time together.” You murmur, kissing his chest.

“I will talk to your father tomorrow.” Marcus tells you, his fingers stroking up and down your curves as he plans. He wants you to stay here, to be his wife. Especially now that he has touched you, gotten to have you. Once would never be enough. “He might wish for us to wait but I want him to know that I am honorable.”

You smile, shifting to look at him, “you want me to be your wife?” Marcus rolls his eyes and huffs playfully, “I love you. I just made love to you. I don’t want to stop making love to you. It’s the natural progression.” He says and you grin, letting him roll you over so his body is covering yours. “Your uxor.” You murmur, tracing his nose, and he kisses your fingertips when they brush his lips. “Mine.” He murmurs, leaning over to press his lips to yours.

The next day, Marcus has to drag himself from your bed. Only able to do so because of the promise of having you permanently. Going to speak to your father is troubling, he doesn’t look happy to see him and Marcus is nervous about the meeting. 

Your father looked up when Marcus was brought into the courtyard. The scrolls spread on the table before him and he doesn’t stand as the Major enters his home. “Acacius.” He greets him without his title, letting his distaste be known. “What do you want?” He asks and Marcus stands a little straighter. “I want to ask to marry your daughter.” He adds your name and your father’s eyes widen. “You want - she’s been staying with you to manage your household in your absence and I allowed her to remain there and you have the audacity to ask for the hand of my remaining daughter after you all but killed my other one?” He hisses, his eyes flashing, “do you wish to finish the job?”

The pang of guilt that fills Marcus crushes his heart, but he shakes his head. "Your daughter died in childbirth." He reminds your father. "Ceres wanted to be a mother and a wife. She was thrilled when she found out that she was carrying." He knows that he cannot blame himself in public for their deaths, not if he wants you. "I wish to the gods that their fate was different, but it was not."

“You have some gall, Acacius. Does my daughter know about your intentions?” He asks and Marcus nods, “she wishes to be my uxor.” He says and your father curls his lip, “foolish girl. Wanting to marry the first man that looks her way. If only she’d focus on eating less then maybe she’d find a man of higher status.” He hisses, “tell me…have you taken her?” He inquires, wanting to know if you are damaged goods.

Marcus frowns at the way that he speaks about you. He was good enough for Ceres but now he's not good enough for you? "I love her." Marcus admits. "She was the daughter I wanted from the very beginning. I knew that she was the one that made my heart beat."

Your father taps his fingers against the table, biting his lip until he looks at Marcus. “I will allow you to marry my daughter if you answer my question…have you taken her innocence?”

Marcus frowns slightly but he nods. "She was in my bed last night." He admits, thinking about how you had looked there. "I wish for her to be my uxor, and I will make sure that you do not lose another daughter to the birthing chair." He promises, knowing that you carrying his child will cause him to seek out the best midwives to care for you.

He hisses at hearing the confirmation of what he expected was the truth. "You have taken what wasn't yours to take but it is too late now. You will marry her." He demands, "and you will honor my daughter. I will not have her shamed. You will marry her in two weeks time, when your mourning period is complete and she will not be shamed for marrying you so soon after her sister died." He decides, "do you agree to these terms?

“I agree.” Marcus nods eagerly. “Ceres' memory will live on through your remaining daughter. She loved her sister and we will make sure that we live a life she would be proud of.”

Your father hums, standing up, and he steps towards Marcus with his hand out. "Do not let me down, Acacius." He demands and Marcus nods, "never. I will love and protect her." He promises and your father shakes his hand, his grip tight and almost painful but Marcus doesn't flinch. When Marcus returns, you are in the garden and quickly stand when he approaches you. "What did he say?" You ask, eager to hear good news. Marcus smiles, reaching for your hands, "he said yes." You squeal and cup Marcus's cheeks, leaning in to kiss him.

“I must go check in with the generals.” Marcus reminds you when you both finally come up for air several moments later. “We can celebrate when I return.” He must inform them that he will be marrying again. He doesn’t need to seek permission, but he has to let them know in case of his death.

You grin, excited to marry the man you love, and you peck his lips again as he steps back. He doesn’t get a chance to walk out the door when two soldiers appear on the doorstep. You frown, looking towards Marcus who looks confused. “What is going on?” He asks and the soldier hands him a scroll. You stand behind Marcus as he reads and finally, he turns to face you. “I am needed in battle. Tonight. I am ordered to leave with immediate effect.” Your eyes widen slightly and you shake your head in shock, “but we - how long will you be gone?” You ask and Marcus hands the scroll back to the soldier and walks back towards you. “I don’t know.” He says honestly and cups your cheeks, “I could be away a month. Or a year.” He admits, knowing that the battles can last months. “It’s a direct order from the emperor. I cannot deny it.” He says as he rests his forehead against yours. Tears sting in your eyes, knowing he’s being taken from you again. “I’ll be okay. I’ll maintain the villa and await your return so I can be your uxor.” You offer him a watery smile, trying to be strong.

“Stay here.” He nods in agreement. “You will be my wife as soon as I return and you have done well maintaining our home.” He praises, leaning in and cupping your cheek. “I love you.” He murmurs your name and presses his lips to yours.

You nod, a tight smile on your face, “I love you too.” You murmur, watching as he lets go of you and makes his way to the entrance, following the guards out of his home and leaving you standing there. Your dreams of him being your husband are delayed, but not shattered.

**** 

It’s been three years since Marcus has seen Rome. Three years since he had kissed you and walked away, hopeful to come home and marry you. He hasn’t heard from you, despite the messengers he had sent to his villa. He hadn’t even been allowed to go home before coming to visit the Emperor. He had been promoted to general while he was gone and he wearily wonders if the emperor would immediately send him off on another campaign or if he could finally fulfill his promise to you.

The fanfare is excessive and you are preparing yourself as you know who is making their way up the steps to greet the emperors. Your golden wreath and silk robes show your status and you are to be empress soon. Married to Geta in the coming weeks. The emperor had wanted a ceremony fit for the “greatest emperor Rome has ever had” and as such, the ceremony is still being planned. You stand tall, watching as the man you still love makes his way up the stairs until he comes into view. He looks older, more jaded, and you inhale sharply when you see him. His eyes are fixed on the emperors and your heart thumps in your chest, stopping when those dark eyes meet yours.

His eyes widen when he sees you. Still as beautiful as you were the day he left, maybe more so. Surprised to find you here and he almost moves towards you, ready to kiss you and gather you in his arms, but there is something in your eyes that makes him hesitate. A warning. He shifts back to Geta, and then towards you, trying to understand what is going on.

“Ah, General. Welcome home. Rome thanks you for your success. The emperors thank you for your success. Our future empress thanks you for your success.” He adds and smirks as he looks over to you. You move towards him and behind you is a little girl. She clings to your robes and Marcus’s eyes widen as you take her hand and walk towards Geta, taking his hand.

His world shifts and he stops breathing. The little girl is no more than a small toddler, a baby. He swallows harshly as he stares at the little girl and then back to you. Your eyes shift guiltily and he knows. The little girl is his. His heart pounds in his chest, but Geta is waiting and he nods. “It was my pleasure.” He croaks out. “For Rome.” There are many questions swimming in his head, but he doesn’t dare to ask them now.

"Perhaps the General would like to rest now. He's had a long journey to Rome and he is staying for the week of celebrations. He must require rest and wine." You murmur to Geta who is busy waving to the crowd. "You are quite right, my love. General, please rest. You'll be escorted to the rooms we have assigned you." Geta says and Caracalla smacks Marcus on the back, "go find a whore and celebrate our great victory." He grins and Marcus bows his head. He looks at you and you try to tell him with his eyes that you will find him and explain. There's so much to explain.

Being escorted through the halls of the large palace, Marcus tries to understand what happened. The child is his. He is certain, but why would the emperor marry a woman with a bastard? His stomach clenches in regret for not marrying you right away. He should have, that way you would not have been shamed while carrying his child. He wonders what your father had said, walking into the room he was given and sighing softly as the door closes behind him.

It takes a while for you to settle Ceres in her bed for her nap. The palace maids have offered to assist but you refuse, wanting to settle your daughter yourself. Once she's asleep, you make your way through the halls, knowing where Marcus is being housed, and you are wary as you look around before you knock on his door.

Marcus stares at the door for a moment, his pacing paused before he strides over to the door to open it. Seeing you, he steps back and opens the door wider in invitation rather than dragging you against him into the room like he wants to. He growls your name. “What the hell is going on?”

"I can explain." You rush out, sensing and then seeing his anger. "After you left...I found out I was with child and my father...he was furious. Refused to let me get word to you and ordered me to go to Rome to stay with his sister. I had the baby. A girl - and she - she's so much like you, Marcus." You offer him a soft smile. "I wanted to return to your home and wait for you with our child but - I didn't know - my father was arranging for me to marry the emperor. Geta had seen me when I was walking through the market and he - he inquired with my father about me. I have no clue why but he ordered me to the palace and proposed. I told him I was betrothed to you, even confessed about our daughter, but he didn't care. He has told everyone that the child is my sister's and you are the father. That I am caring for my niece. She isn't a threat to him, and he wishes for me to birth a boy for his successor. He cares little for the fact that I am no longer innocent, but I refused to marry him, then he - he threatened Ceres , he threatened our daughter, and I - I had to agree." You choke, tears streaming down your cheeks as you rush to explain everything that has happened since the morning he left his home.

Marcus clenches his jaw, his hands curled into fists. You wouldn’t lie to him, it’s not the type of person you are. “You- you gave birth alone?” He demands, feeling nearly sick since your sister had died in childbirth. You must have been terrified. Shaking your head, you reach out and touch his arm. “My aunt and the midwives were with me.” You explain. “She is beautiful. Wonderful.” You smile and his anger crumbles, reaching out and caressing your cheek. “I am so sorry I was not here, amor.” He swallows harshly, knowing that you cannot be his now. All his dreams have been crushed.

You sob, wrapping your arms around his neck. You have felt so alone since the time he left. You've fought for your daughter and your life and you are exhausted. His arms wrap around you and you finally feel like you're home. "I don't want to marry Geta. I love you. It's always been you, but Ceres - I would give my life to save hers."

Marcus can’t kiss you, you would both be killed for betraying the emperor. “You did the right thing.” He promises, running his hands up and down your sides. He had hoped you would be safe in his home, but apparently not. “The villa?” He asks.

“Your father is managing it. He - he spoke with my father and they decided to send me away and I think your father hoped to find you another wife when the time came.” You reveal, your hand finding his chest, wishing you could feel his heart but it’s covered by the armor.

He snorts and shakes his head. “I listened to his choice the first time.” He tells you. “He has no say in who I marry now.” He wishes that were you; but now you have Geta.

You have tears streaming down your cheeks, “this is so unfair.” You choke and slide your hand up to his cheek again. “I want to be yours but he has promised me that Ceres will want for nothing. He has promised a dowry beyond anything I could offer so she can be married to a good man.”

Marcus shakes his head, knowing that you might have thought he was dead. Or he could die, the gods know how he had almost been killed many times. “You did nothing wrong.” He promises you, leaning in and pressing his forehead against yours. “We are just….star crossed.” He sighs as he pulls back. “You will be the empress of Rome. I am just one of her generals.”

“I don’t want to be empress. I want to be yours.” You choke, surging forward to hover your lips against his but he doesn’t close the gap. You sob and shift away from him, “I will- I need to go back to Ceres.”

Marcus lets you pull away, not pulling you back against him. He swallows harshly as you turn towards the door before he softly says your name. Watching as you freeze and turn back towards him. “I never stopped loving you.” He promises. “I’m sorry I took too long to come home.”

You nod, wiping the tears from your cheeks, “me too. Perhaps we will be together in another life.” You murmur and open the door, stepping out before anyone notices and you make your way back to your room, your heart breaking with each step away from Marcus. 

**** 

You sip your wine, lost in your thoughts as the emperors argue in front of you. Ceres is with her nanny and you would rather be with her than sitting watching two grown men argue about what piece of land to conquer next. Marcus is sitting opposite you, the map of the empire laid out before you on the table and you aren’t thinking when you set your cup down and it tips, spilling wine over the map. “You need to pay more attention, you useless whore. That map will take months to recreate.” Geta strides over to you, his hand raised and he doesn’t think as he strikes you, his palm slapping your cheek. The sting makes your head fuzzy but this isn’t the first time he’s done this.

Marcus clenches his fist in anger, barely restraining himself from lunging at the emperor. He knows that he would be struck down by the guards around the room if he tried to attack the man for hitting you. “Blood often obscures our maps on the battlefield, emperor.” He tells them. “I can get our scribe to fix it.” He sends the men a tight smile. “You can claim it came from your latest victory.”

You don’t rub your cheek, knowing that will be seen as a weakness so you sit still, blinking to stop the tears pooling in your eyes. “Very well. I appreciate the offer, General. Now, what are your thoughts of venturing more into Africa to continue our conquests?” Geta asks. You look over at Marcus who has his jaw clenched and you refill your empty cup, needing something to drink. Geta has often told you about how attractive he finds you. You are like a goddess according to him but he never makes you feel worshiped. He’s hit you several times when you don’t please him and you endure it, knowing you have no choice, and you cannot allow him to inflict his hand on your daughter. “I’m sorry, Caesar.” You bow your head and he hums, caressing your sore cheek. “You must learn, dear one. I need a loyal and obedient empress.” He reminds you and leans in to softly kiss your lips while you try not to flinch.

Marcus clears his throat. “Africa will be a challenge against our army.” Marcus admits as he points towards the coast. “There are many fortified cities and they will have many defenses against invasions from the sea.” He can’t concentrate on you, knowing it would be dangerous to show the emperors that he has feelings for you. “We do not want a war that your children will still be fighting when they come to the throne.”

Caracalla growls and shakes his head, “who cares if we are fighting for 100 years? It is our duty to make Rome great and that includes adding to our empire.” Geta tuts, “now brother. We must control our urges. Less we destroy Rome in the process. Perhaps the General can suggest another area we can fight for?” He looks over at Marcus with his head tilted.

Marcus clenches his jaw and sighs. “Here.” He points to a cluster of Isles on the map. “There would be a good stronghold for Rome.” He decides. “We could position our troops and leave a permanent garrison.”

Geta nods, “that would be ideal. Create a naval base there.” He is intrigued, “brother?” He asks looking at Caracalla who is poking between you and Marcus with a funny look on his face. “It would be most advantageous.” He agrees after a moment.

Marcus nods. “We will need to send scouting ships first.” He informs them. “Send back detailed reports. See if they can land a small party to survey the best places to land.”

You watch the emperors absorb his words and you sigh, wishing your cup was refilled. “See it is done. I want to move as fast as possible.” Geta orders and he strides over to you. “I’m sorry, my love. Forgive my hand.” He coos, gripping your chin and he leans in to kiss you. You try not to recoil as his lips press against yours.

Marcus has to look away. His eyes dropping back to the map as he pretends that he’s unaffected by the sight of you kissing someone else. He wonders if you’ve been in Geta’s bed, although that’s not fair to you. He had left without marrying you. Hoping to be home quickly and he hadn’t. He had left you alone to give birth to his daughter.

You smile at Geta after he pulls away, “emperor.” You murmur and he grins, “my empress. Soon.” He promises and you nod, watching Geta move towards the stained map. “Speak to the others. Get this into action.” He tells Marcus who nods, “of course.”

Marcus bows his head respectfully to both of the emperors and then to you. His eyes meet yours briefly before he spins on his heel and marches out of the room. Eager to get away from the emperor before he does something to make him suspicious.

**** 

You are in the gardens with Ceres when you see Marcus walking through the vegetables you’ve been growing since you arrived at the palace. It calms you and allows you to think about anything other than your fate. Ceres runs around, giggling as she enjoys the fresh air and you freeze when Marcus spots you. His eyes immediately went to Ceres.

His daughter. Marcus watches the young girl, wishing that he could scoop her up, introduce himself to her as her father, but he can’t. He says your name when he finally looks away from her towards you. “It seems you still enjoy the gardens.”

You smile, brushing your dirty hands on your dress as you stand, “it’s peaceful. It feels like home.” You admit, “and I like the escape from the emperors.” You confess, glancing around. “Ceres. Come here.” You call your daughter over and she rushes over, giggling as she plucks a flower. “Ceres.” You pick her up and she looks at you, “this is your father. Your pater.” You say and she looks at Marcus, “pater?” She tilts her head and you brace yourself for Marcus’s response.

Marcus looks around in surprise, but the guards are too far away to hear the conversation. He murmurs your name in caution but you tilt your head. “People believe she is my sister’s daughter.” You remind him and he nods, stepping forward and kneeling down in front of the young girl. “Pater.” He confirms solemnly, reaching out to touch her cheek. “I was away for a long time, but I am home now.”

Ceres grins, excited to meet her father. You’ve always told her about him, told her stories of how brave he is, and she doesn’t hesitate to surge forward to wrap her arms around his neck. “Pater.” She says excitedly and leans back to kiss his cheek.

Marcus holds her tight, closing his eyes so he doesn’t cry at the simple acceptance the baby in his arms provides. He swallows and when he opens his eyes again, he finds you with tears of your own. “How old are you Ceres?” He manages, his voice rough with emotion.

Ceres pulls back to look at him, confused at the question and you chuckle, “she’s two.” You stroke her back as Marcus holds her and you see the emotion in his eyes. “Everyone thinks she is yours. Everyone thinks she was conceived during wedlock. She’s safe and she’s provided for. That’s all I want is for her to have everything I can give her.” You explain, “you can be her father in public.”

“But she calls you her mother?” He asks, wanting to understand the dynamics of your situation. “Yes, but that is because I am all she knows.” You explain and he agrees that it is a good explanation. “Do you- I don’t want to take her from you.” Marcus murmurs softly.

“You won’t. You’re her father. She needs her father in her life.” You say, “no one expects you to stay away. As far as everyone is concerned, she is not a bastard and she is my niece. It’s safer this way.” You assure him with a smile, “I want you to be in her life. In our life.”

“I wish I had married you before I left.” Marcus murmurs quietly, Ceres distracted by the emblem on his cuffs and not paying attention to the adults' conversation. “Your father wanted me to wait until the mourning period was over.”

You scoff, “he wanted you gone. As soon as you left, he was trying to get me in the emperor’s sights. Ceres was more likely to win his affection in my opinion but apparently he prefers women with more curves. Until I found out I was with child and my father sent me away.” You confess, “he never planned to allow me to marry you. He spoke with his contacts to ensure you were sent to war.”

Marcus hisses in anger, knowing now why other men had been rotated home and he never got the chance until he had been promoted to general. “I am sorry.” He murmurs softly. “I would-“ he bites his lip, knowing such comments are treasonous. “I wish things were different.” He admits softly. “If anything, I wish you were happy with your life.”

You swallow harshly, feeling the tears sting in your eyes, “we didn’t - we weren’t meant to be. If Ceres has an incredible life, then I’ll be happy.” You confess, “it’s all for her.” You smile at your daughter.

Ceres has ended up curled against his chest when she loses interest in playing with his clothes. Smiling back at her mama and slowly starting to close her eyes. Apparently Marcus is comfortable and she feels safe enough to go to sleep. “Would you marry him if you had any other choice?” He asks quietly, glancing around.

You glance around and look back at him, “I don’t want to marry him. I wouldn’t if I had another choice but I need to protect Ceres and I have no funds. If I didn’t marry him, I’d have nothing and my father will not help provide for Ceres. I’d have no home. No coin. I’d be all alone.” You confess, “and that scares me.”

“You wouldn’t be alone.” Marcus promises immediately. “She is my daughter and she will have everything I possess.” He licks his lips and looks at you softly. “Just like you will. I - I will care for you and provide for you if you choose not to marry him.”

Tears escape your eyes and you quickly wipe them away, “I have no choice. You know he’d rather kill me than let me go. No one says no to the emperor.” You whisper, “I still love you, Marcus. I never stopped. I’d marry you this second if I could.”

Marcus sighs softly and nods. “I know. If it were possible, I would say that we leave.” He wishes that the fates were different, but they aren’t. “Has Geta-“ he breaks off, unsure if he wants to know.

You shake your head, “no. No. He wants - he wants everyone to believe that I’m pure so there’s no question about his heir. Even if it were in private. Thank the gods.” You sigh, “and Ceres is well cared for.” You add, knowing that there’s nothing you can do. You’re resigned to your fate and tortured by the man you love standing in front of you.

Marcus feels guilty and he wraps his arms around his daughter. “I will always love you.” He promises, “I never stopped in all the time we have spent apart.”

Your heart breaks and you nod, “we were never meant to be.” You smile sadly as the guards approach and Marcus keeps his hold on Ceres. They say your name and you stand a little straighter, “the emperor is requesting your presence. Without the child.” He adds and you frown, “I will need to return her to her room then I will join the emperor.” You say and they nod, walking off. You sigh and look to Marcus, “Ceres, say goodbye to your father. We must go.” You order and she pouts, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Bye bye.” She says and you take her hand after Marcus releases her with a “bye, puella.” He smiles and you guide her through the gardens, looking over your shoulder at him as he stands there watching you leave

Marcus sighs as you walk out of sight. He still has not been able to leave the palace, but he has sent word to his father. Wanting the estate to be prepared for his arrival after so long away from home. The elder man had not sent any message back, so he was uncertain if it had even arrived.

**** 

You stumble down the hall, your robes ripped and blood dripping from your nose as you blindly reach for the door that leads to the rooms where Marcus is staying. It’s been two weeks since he arrived and he’s spent a lot of time in the gardens with Cere, bonding with her, and you’ve allowed him the time. You’re confused about why he’s still here when the emperors want to send him out for more conquests but he’s here and you want him to enjoy his time with his daughter. Geta had called you to his rooms and you’d been curious. He’s kept himself busy with his whores and orgies and you have been happy that he hasn’t approached you even though your wedding day is quickly approaching. You bang on the door of Marcus’s room, your head fuzzy, and you feel sick.

Marcus frowns when he hears the frantic banging on the door, moving over from where Ceres is napping to fling it open. His eyes widen and he lunges forward to catch you before you collapse in a heap in front of his door. Exclaiming your name, he glances down the hall and listens for any sign of attack. “What happened?” He demands, pulling you inside and barring the door just in case there is some kind of uprising. The city has been uneasy and there has been a growing discontent amongst the people due to Geta and Caracalla’s endless spending on the war machine of Rome.

You cling to him, shaking in his arms, “Geta. He- oh gods, Marcus. He wanted me to- I said no and he-” Marcus holds you, “breathe. You need to breathe for me.” He demands and you inhale shakily. “Geta wanted to fuck me before the wedding and I couldn’t - I said no so he - he grabbed me and I fought. He hit me and slapped me and called me - called me a whore. Said he couldn’t - that I gave it up for you but not the emperor. I thought he was going to kill me but I managed to get away.” You rush out, your lungs stinging with the need to breathe.

“Fuck.” Marcus hisses and shakes his head in anger. “I’ll kill him.” He growls but you grab his arm. “Don’t- you will be killed.” You gasp, and he knows you are right, he would be struck down by Geta’s personal guard. “We will leave.” Marcus tells you instead, grabbing a cloth from the table to wet with water from the pitcher he had for Ceres. He wipes the blood off your face gently. “Now. We will take our daughter and leave Rome right now.”

You have to get away. Geta has hit you more times than you’d care to admit to Marcus and you couldn’t survive a marriage to him. Especially if he could go as far as to try and force himself on you. You are exhausted from fighting but you know you don’t have a lot of time. “We need to leave as soon as it’s dark. They will come for me again. He will want to apologize. That’s what he’s done before.” You confess and Marcus growls, “he’s tried to-?” You cut him off, “not - he just hit me when I did something wrong or I put Ceres before his needs.” You confess, “we need to go. Tonight.”

Marcus grits his teeth together, trying hard to keep from squeezing your arms in his own fit of anger. “Can you pack anything or would you rather leave it all behind?” He asks and you shake your head. “I could not get anything out of the palace without someone seeing.” Marcus rocks his jaw. “I will order a carriage to take my belongings to the villa tonight.” He decides. “You and Ceres will hide in the trunks. Dress her in multiple layers, yourself too.” He explains. “Only what you can wear on your body. My trunks will be handled with care by the men.”

You nod, knowing you need to take Ceres away from this place. All the coins in the world cannot make you stay in this place with the monsters who lead the empire. You can't help yourself as you surge forward to press your lips to Marcus's, adrenaline rushing through you.

He worries that you will hurt yourself, your face sore from Geta’s attack. “Amor.” He pulls back and searches your beautiful, swollen face. “We don’t have to do anything, I will get you away from here.” He promises.

You nod, feeling rejected but later when you think about it, you’ll appreciate his clear mind when you were all over the place. “I know. I- I love you.” You caress his cheek and look over at Ceres. “She looks so much like you when she sleeps.” You smile, wincing at the way your face aches.

“Have some wine.” Marcus urges, guiding you over to a chair and then rushing over to pour you a cup. “I love you, sweetheart. I will make sure that you escape this place.” He promises as he brings the cup to you. “You and our daughter. We can go to my villa and then I will make plans for us to leave Rome

You take the wine and down it, hands shaking and you know you can't take anymore from Geta. You look at Marcus after glancing at Ceres. "Get us out of here." You demand and he nods, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. You grip his forearm and lean against him, breathing him in.

He doesn't want to leave you, but he has to make arrangements. He needs to speak to the few officers that he trusts. Making plans to make sure that you get out of the city to his villa safely. Once you are there, he will still have to move quickly, but he will leave Rome behind with you and Ceres. Making a life together after so much time apart.

**** 

You wait for the knock at your door, Marcus told you the plan after you’d left his rooms with Ceres in your arms. It’s dark and you wrap the cloak around you and Ceres as you gather what you can carry on you and make your way to the door. A man stands there and you narrow your eyes at him, “he said the word was ‘lilies’ .” You nod, knowing that Marcus used your favorite flower as a code word, and you follow the man through the halls and out into the shadowed alleys of the palace.

Octavius is nervous as he guides you out of a side courtyard door that is suspiciously unguarded. His faith in his general is unwavering, but he knows that you are Geta’s intended empress. The door swings open silently to reveal the wagon loaded down with trunks on the other side of the thick wall. “Hurry.” He moves to the back and opens the largest truck to reveal that it is empty besides a thick fur for comfort.

You eye the trunk, nervous but you need to do this to save yourself and save Ceres. You get into the trunk and reach for Ceres. The guard places Ceres in the trunk and closes the lid. “Mama.” She whimpers and you stroke her hair, “it’s okay, my darling.” You coo, kissing her hair.

Every soldier loyal to him surrounds the wagon. Marcus himself is cloaked so he will not be recognized by the guards as they start to slowly travel down the narrow alleyway, away from the palace. His hand grips his sword under his cloak, ready to pull it from the sheath if one of the centuries moves wrong.

You are anxious, heart pounding as the wagon rolls you and Ceres from the palace. The noises make your stomach twist and you’re so nervous to escape. You trust Marcus but you don’t trust the palace, the guards. “It’s okay.” You murmur to Ceres, “it’s okay.”

It takes nearly two hours to slowly travel to his villa and Marcus frowns when he sees the overgrown tangle of vines and dead vegetation. It looks like the home has been abandoned since he had left to go to war. "Damnit." He hisses when the wagon pulls to a stop and he hops down. "Clear the house, find wood for a fire." he instructs his men before he strides to the back of the wagon and starts to open the trunk.

You look up, blinking at the brightness of the lanterns, and you inhale deeply, praying you’re safe. “It’s okay.” Marcus promises and you shake Ceres, waking her up. “Wake up, amor. We are home.” You murmur, rubbing her back as she wakes up and looks up at Marcus. “Pater.” She mutters, reaching for him.

Reaching down into the trunk, he easily lifts her out and then sets her against his shoulder. "Let's get mama out." He murmurs, offering you his hand as you sit up. "The villa is abandoned." He tells you quietly. "We might be safe here for a day or so, but I will need to find us a ship leaving port tomorrow."

You get out of the trunk, hand shaking in fear that the emperors have found you. “They will know I am gone by now.” You choke out, “we must leave as soon as possible. Ceres needs to be safe. You know they will kill her.” You tell him, aware of how insane they are. “We must protect her.” You reach out to caress the cheek of your daughter.

“We will stay tonight and then leave tomorrow.”‘Marcus promises, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “The men are gathering wood for a fire and we will make sure you two have a warm bed.”

You caress his chest, leaning into him and breathing him in. You feel safe for now and it doesn’t take long for you to settle Ceres in bed by the fire. You stroke her cheek as she sleeps, watching over her, and you look up when Marcus walks into the room. “My men are stationed at the entrances and I have someone watching the horizon for any intruders.” He says and you nod, looking back down at Ceres. “All this effort for me.” You sigh, “she would’ve been protected by the emperor and I- I would’ve been fed to the dogs after I gave him what he wanted.”

“You don’t know she would have been protected.” Marcus shakes his head. “Geta is spoiled and vicious, a dangerous combination.” He throws some more wood on the fire. “I would risk all of Rome for you, our daughter.” He tells you. “I would fight to the death in the colosseum for you.”

You shake your head, “hopefully it doesn’t come to that.” Your heart clenches at the thought of Marcus fighting for his life because of you. You stand up, leaving Ceres to sleep and you cover her up. “You need to rest.” You tell Marcus, noticing how exhausted he looks.

“You should sleep too.” Marcus comments, knowing he won’t sleep well tonight. He will be up and down, checking in with the guards. “Come.” He offers you his hand. “Come to the gardens with me.”

You take his hand, letting him guide you to the gardens and you squeeze his hand when you are surrounded by the walls of the courtyard. “My poor plants.” You sigh, “and vegetables. I worked so hard on that garden.”

“I know.” He murmurs, rubbing your arm. “Wherever we settle, I will make sure that you have a garden you can enjoy.” He promises. “The entire courtyard will be for your enjoyment.”

You hum, wrapping your arms around him and you tilt your head towards his, “thank you. For everything. You saved us and I- I love you so much.” You lean closer to kiss his jaw, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” Marcus promises. “I prayed for you every day.” He doesn’t tell you how disappointed he was when he never heard anything from you; but he knows why now.

“And I you.” You promise, cupping his cheek, bringing his dark gaze to you. “I love you, Marcus. I always have. Since that moment you helped Ceres.” You tell him and his eyes soften, “I wanted it to be you. From the start.” You sigh and nod, leaning in to press your lips to his, “we will have each other. No matter what it takes.” You whisper against his lips until you tilt your mouth to deepen the kiss.

This time Marcus doesn’t pull back from you. He opens up, allowing you to take charge of the kiss, to control what happens now. So much of your life has been dictated and he wants you to feel like you are in control. Groaning into your mouth when you slide your tongue against his.

You slide your hands around to grip his neck, pulling him even closer and you moan as you slide your tongue into his mouth, loving how he surrenders control to you.

Marcus closes his eyes, leaning into the kiss and his hands slide down to your ass and he palms it gently. He loves your body, always has and even though you have been apart for so long, he wants you.

You moan into his mouth, feeling him harden against your hip and you slide your hands down to caress his chest, “I want you, amor. I need you.” You pant against his jaw, pressing a kiss to the stubble that’s formed there. “Please take me. I’m yours.”

"Here?" Marcus asks, but you are reaching down and squeezing his cock through his tunic and he groans into your neck as he presses his face into your pulse, inhaling your sweet scent. You would love having sex in the gardens, as much as you loved spending time here. "The wall," he growls, moving you towards it. The short wall would be perfect to prop you up against and make you cum.

You let him walk you backwards and when he grabs your thighs, he lifts you up onto the short wall. You’re already wet for him and you reach for the hem of his tunic, pulling it up so you can wrap your fingers around his hard length. “Marcus please.” You beg, needing him.

He knows you have not had any man but him between your thighs and he groans when you start to pump his cock. “Uxor.” He moans, knowing that while it might not be official in any legal capacity, you have always been his wife in his heart. From the very beginning. “I’ll give you what you need.” He promises. “Do you want me to fill you?” He asks softly.

You whine, “yes. Want to feel all of you. I don’t care.” You tell him with a moan as he shuffles closer. “Please, Maritus.” You demand and spread your legs wider for him. He hisses when he shuffles closer to slide the head of his cock through your folds.

He should work you open on his fingers, but he’s too eager for you to care. Gripping your hip as he starts to slowly push into you. “Fuck.” He pants your name, pressing his lips against yours as he breaks you open. He knows his soldiers won’t disturb him unless it’s important, so he can take his time with you.

You whimper, letting him work you open with each rock of his hips and you are moaning his name, pressing your lips to his chin as he takes his time, making you pant as he stretches you out for only the second time ever.

One he is fully buried inside you, he closes his eyes. “I love you.” Moaning softly, he tries his hardest to hold still while you get used to him, your walls fluttering around him so beautifully. “Fuck.”

You caress his shoulders over his tunic, admiring the way he looks in the moonlight as he starts to move inside you. “That’s it, Maritus. Take me. I’m yours.” You promise again, wrapping your legs around him.

He loves that you are calling him your husband, holding onto your hips as he sets a pace that is slow and steady. Taking his time to fill you and then pull back. Wanting to feel everything as he reacquaints himself with the way you feel around his cock.

Your head lulls back and he leans forward to kiss along your neck. “I love you.” You promise breathlessly, “I always have. Always.” You vow and he bites down on your chin, wanting to claim you completely and you gasp, walls fluttering around his cock.

Marcus growls out your name, feeling possessive over you. You’ve had his child, you’ve given him your innocence. You are his. He’s not leaving you or letting you go this time. He will fight to the death for you and Ceres.

You are breathless as he rocks into you, making you gasp his name, and you cling to him. The wall digs into your flesh but you don’t care. You want him to ruin you, to take what's his and he does. He rocks into you, hard but slow, and you whimper his name again. “Gods, that feels - right there.” You choke, clenching around him.

“Right there?” He huffs, smirking at the awe on your moon lit face. He rolls his hips again, wanting you to come apart for him. “Thought about you for three fucking years.” He confesses. “Imagined coming back to you every day, finding you in my tent.”

“I wish I was there. I would’ve made sure you had something to fight for. To make you feel good.” You promise with a gasp when he starts to thrust into you a little harder. “I would’ve been yours every single night.” You vow, “I am now. Yours. Completely. Always.”

“You are mine.” He grunts. “You, our daughter. You are going to be beside me for the rest of our lives.” He grits his teeth and lifts your legs onto his hips as he fucks into you.

You moan his name as he rocks into you, getting you closer and closer to your peak. “Yes. Gods, Marcus. I- fuck. I am going to- I need - your fingers. Please.” You beg, moaning and your thighs shaking but you need more to send you over the edge.

Marcus hisses at how close you are, releasing one of your thighs. Snaking his hand down between your bodies and pressing his thumb against your bundle of nerves. Pressing his lips to yours to absorb your moan as he starts to rub. “Cum for me, uxor.”

You can’t deny him even if you tried. You clamp down on his cock within seconds and cry out his name. You soak him and your chest heaves, finally returned with the man you love. You caress his chest, “fill me up. I don’t care.”

Marcus hisses in pleasure, your words sending him over the edge. He pumps deep twice more before burying his cock. Throbbing inside you as he paints your walls with his seed. He could get you pregnant again, but he doesn’t care, he would love that. Once you are safe, he wants more kids with you, and wants to be present for your time carrying them.

You moan his name, loving the way he fills you up without care and you know he will keep you and Ceres safe. No matter what. “I love you.” You pant and caress his chest over his tunic, “we will be safe tomorrow.” You promise despite not knowing what tomorrow holds. You spend several moments kissing and caressing while he softens inside you until he pulls out and tells you you need to rest. “Rest with me.” You order, noticing the darkness under his eyes.

“After a check in with my men.” He promises. He knows he will wake every hour to check in, but he will give you what you want and lay down with you. “Love you.”

You smile, caressing his cheek and he takes your hand to press a soft kiss to your palm. It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep with him wrapped around you and he strokes your side as he watches you until he pulls himself away to speak with his men. Tomorrow, you’ll escape from the clutches of the emperors.

**** 

Marcus woke several times during the night but after the guards had traded off, he had stayed asleep. He had given strict orders to wake him if something happened, but he had curled around you until just before the sun broke the sky and one his men rushed into the villa. “General! We have a rider approaching!”

Marcus is swift to get out of bed, grabbing his chest plate and sword after tying his sandals to see what the rider has to say. It’s likely an order of execution from the emperors for everyone here. You gasp, waking up and you rush to get Ceres, wanting to protect her while you hear the news from the rider.

Coming out to the gates, Marcus frowns when he sees a lone rider, a dispatch messenger. His only job is to ride to the prominent villas with important news, although only one other man in Rome had known he was going to be here. The man he had left behind to send word about the order to execute Marcus for kidnapping the future empress. He must have been sent here by Octavious after he had parted ways once you were in the trunk. “News!” The messenger cries before he even pulls his horse to a stop. “Emperor’s Geta and Caracalla have been killed!”

You are holding a moaning Ceres, angry at being woken up, when you hear the news. Your eyes widen as you look over at Marcus. You don’t respond, too in shock, and you shake your head. “They are dead. The senate - they heard you had escaped and quickly moved to form a coup. They stabbed the emperors when they gathered to discuss your execution.” The messenger declares and Marcus frowns, “and where is your proof?” He asks and the man holds out a coin. It’s covered in blood but you know it. Geta had it on a string around his neck. A charm his father gave him when he was a boy. “He’s dead.” You choke in relief, “we are free.”

Marcus nods, turning and crushing you against him. “I will have to return to Rome.” He tells you quietly. “Stay with my men.” He still doesn’t trust it not to be some kind of trap; but he doesn’t want to worry you. “I will be back tonight.” He promises.

You cling to him, “Marcus. What if it’s a trap?” You ask, knowing that the emperors are evil and you wouldn’t put anything past them. “I know, but I have to make sure. We need to know for certain.” He says and you cup his cheek, “come back to us.” You demand, pressing your lips to his.

“I will.” Marcus presses his lips to yours again and again. “You are my uxor.” He tells you quietly before he looks to the men who follow him, gathered around him silently without you noticing. “Protect the general’s family with your lives.” He orders them.

Ceres reaches for her father and he pulls her close for a second, kissing her cheek. “Be good, my girl.” He murmurs and she pouts, “pater.” She wants him to stay but you know he has to go. He will never settle without knowing for certain that you are safe. “It’s okay, amor.” You murmur to her, “pater will be home soon.”

“Help her restore the villa.” He instructs his men, hanging you a large bag of coins. “I will be back as quickly as I can.” He promises again before stealing one last breathtaking kiss.

You watch him go, your heart clenching in fear that this is a trap and he’s going to be killed. You hug Ceres tight, the bag of coins in your other hand, and you look at his men. “Well, gentleman, let’s get started. We have a lot to do to make this place suitable for the general’s return.”

**** 

Three days later, a rider approaches, the guards tense and gripping their swords as they wait. Until they recognize the general, calling out for the gates to be opened, to greet Marcus as he comes galloping into the courtyard calling for you and Ceres as he jumps off his horse.

You are in the garden with Ceres, showing her how to plant some flowers and you look up when you hear his voice. “Pater!” Ceres shouts and runs towards the gate where Marcus is and you are relieved.

He’s relieved to see his daughter come careening towards him. Bending down to one knee so he can scoop her up with a grunt. “Little one!” He hugs her close and kisses her cheek. “Have you been good?”

Ceres nods, hugging her father tight with her arms wrapped around his neck. You walk over, your heart thumping in relief, and you rush towards him, wrapping your arms around him and Ceres and you press your lips to his.

“I’m home, uxor.” Marcus promises you with a soft smile. “The emperors are dead.” He had made sure of it and stayed for the coming changes to Rome. “You and I are to return to the city to be married. And I have been promised that we will not be sent off to war for at least a year.”

Your eyes widen as you look at him, “we are to be married?” You ask and he nods, “the senate have approved it. I have claimed Ceres. We can be at peace.” He vows and you choke, “finally.”

“Finally.” Marcus smiles at you and leans in to press his lips to yours. “We will be together. And I will make sure that you never have to worry about your future again.”

**** 

You smile at Marcus as you look out across the fields, the baby boy at your breast as you cradle him while Marcus shows Ceres how to plant a seed for vegetables. You’re married and at peace. What you’ve always longed for. Marcus may have rescued your sister that day in the market, but he’s saved your life and you’ll always love him for that.

[crookedfivefingers]

3.13 | ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʟᴏʀᴅꜱ

link to the post I accidentally wound up prattling endlessly about in the tags 💀

[tparadox]

You've expressed how I watch movies (in a pretty pendantic way that sounds like it makes it hard to be a movie watching friend of yours), but I think that's only one way.

My wife is always asking me to tell her the things the movie is supposed to make you wonder and anticipate finding out. I absolutely hate spoilers and give answers as cagey as I can get away with, which drives her crazy too.

Some of it is not engaging fully with the story in the way that it's meant to be due to lack of practice of the skill, some because English is not her first language and she honestly misses important things so she's never fully sure if she missed something or it's something we haven't learned yet. But also I think there's a disconnect in our cultural approaches.

I watch movies by politely staying quiet and paying direct attention, but seeing her watch movies with her family, it's a much more participative and communal experience for them. You cheer when something good happens, you cringe when something bad happens, you discuss what's happening while it's happening and before it happens.

So sometimes she's asking me questions because she wants me to answer them, but I think sometimes she's asking questions because she wants the movie to answer them, and verbalizing those questions is how she expresses her engagement.

Remember: as satisfying as a good reveal is the first time, going back to find what you missed in previous viewings is a heartier overall experience. Some people just aren't wired for the hit of the pieces falling into place and just want to skip straight to sucking the dramatic irony marrow.

Side note: this aversion to sitting with the curiosity isn't as generational as the Netflix Effect theory would imply. My mother likes to read books by reading the first page, then the last page, then the first chapter, then the last chapter, and then if the ending seems satisfying, skipping around the middle until she's read it all. She hates waiting to find out the answers almost as much as my wife. And cozy mysteries are her favorite genre.

[livbedum]

the greatest chapter four

it girl!reader x drew starkey smau

summary what are the odds?

previous chapter

DREW STARKEY SENT YOU A MESSAGE

block delete accept

sorry about everyone ‘spawning’ in your comments

ahhhhhhahaha no it’s fine! ahaha

but it is because we’re all fans of you. if that helps!

ahh that’s so insane! thank you so much<3 me and

my friends LOVE outer banks:)

that means a lot. we love knowing people love

it as much as we do!

i swear me and kaylor talked about it all

the time if we could😭

maddie was the same way with love island😂

she got a bunch of us to watch it with her

good thing she did

hahaha! i luvvv her

how’s it being home now? you were there awhile

i missed my bed!

but i’m really surprised at how much support i have rn

yeah it definitely seemed like you felt alone in there

despite having leah, ree, and jana? yeah. i did lol

well you’re home now… what are you planning to do?

i have to be in nyc in two days to film😖

so that first, and then focus on my content

the reunion?

yeah we’re filming on the 14th soooo excited

jana has reciepts we been saving JUST for this

hmmmm the 14th in nyc

who are you ladies coming for?

haha yes i’ll be there for the whole week

jana got me and i got leah

so i’m coming for ethan’s funk ass

jana is going to call out andrea

pretty sure liv said she’s got my back on that too

yeah… that ethan guy sucks

i’ll be watching to see how you go about that one

oh! well let it be known i’m usually much more

graceful than i’m going to seem during the reunion

i’m sure you’ll handle yourself just fine

clocking ethan will actually possess my body…

u should be worried just a little bit

haha if somebody has to it should be you

maddie always loved when you got into it with him

he did my girl SO wrong how could i not😭

so did you watch it all back?

nay and i did whenever we got back!

we stayed at my house for the weekend and

binged it all, writing down the important

shit to bring up at the reunion

how was that process?

i can’t even watch myself act, so i can’t

imagine watching me go through what you did.

uhhhh ahaha yeah… it was rough

that’s why it took the whole weekend tbh

i bet it was difficult reliving everything

that on top of seeing my best friend’s from

a different pov definitely sucked ass

at least you’re home now! you can move on

that’s the plan. the show didn’t work for me, but it

turns out friendship island is much much better

yeah you seem to have found a good group

the best haha!

now it’s on to bigger n better

that’s the only way to go about it i think

read Sunday

yourusername posted a photo!

liked by korde1ll , madelyncline , drewstarkey and others

yourusername back in nyc with my best friend<3

tagged yourbestfriend

view all comments

username ahhhhh im so excited for the reunion!

↳ username PLEASEEEEE I NEED IT NOW

username so glad y/b/f was in charge of ur ig when you were in the villa she kept us feddddd

username my favorite og villa girlie

yourbestfriend and ur never leaving me again

↳ yourusername maybe if u came to boston more u wouldn’t hate it as much

username hate knowing that u n leah live on opposite sides of the country

drewstarkey hmmm

username city girl winninggg

username i can’t remember a time i wasn’t thinking about you 24/7 if i���m being honest

madelyncline 😍 prettiest girl ever

↳ yourusername actually crazy coming from u

username okay when did obx get here?

username i just knowwwwww u and jana are coming to the reunion with AMMO

↳ yourusername baby, we’re coming in correct i promiseee

username ok so r u like going to post a yt video now that ur home? been missing ur vlogs like crazy

↳ yourusername LMAO u clocked me🙂‍↕️ yes videos are coming soon i swear

username just a girl wishing to meet y/n

leahkateb c u tmrw bb

↳ yourusername crying from excitement tbh

oliviaa_walker okay so we’re getting dinner tn

↳ yourusername yes pls n thx

hmmmm the 14th in nyc

↳ this is actually so sus after ur lil comment

hello again

haha! that was my way of saying i’m

also going to be in new york i get there

tomorrow actually!

oh! ahahaha what are the odds lol

seems like i would have some free time too

haha i will too since i’m making a whole

weekend out of it with my best friend

let me know what you’re up to?

yeah for sure ha!

ISLAND GIRLS🥥🌴

kaylor baby🍰

okay but what r u guys wearing?

liv🖤

real question is:

is y/n bringing a date

y/n🪩

idt it’s that kind of event babe

oh nvm gtg

naynay🤍

LMAO pls tell me y’all kept talking w eo

kaylor🍰

ohhhhhh so you guys have been talking

leah boo🐴

and she left him on read!

naynay🤍

y/n no u didn’t

ree💓

be so fr bitch

liv🖤

WHAT

y/n🪩

😶😶😶😶 hehe no…

leah boo🐴

lyin ass

kaylor🍰

wait what! noooo why would u do that??

y/n🪩

anyways i’m wear a black floor length

dress and evening gloves gtg!

an my giggly girl just geeked drew dms her

taglist @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @willowpains @percysley @rrosiitas @nellyboosworld @ethanthequeefqueen

[blue-eyed-beastie]

A Closer Look at Belle's Book: Part II

In Part I, I went into some detail about the illustration inside Belle's book, but now I want to turn the page, so to speak.

Thanks to the magic of 4K, I was able to zoom in on some details in Beauty and the Beast that I had never noticed before, and this time I wanted to see what story Belle was reading. I've seen theories that it was either foreshadowing Aladdin or referencing Sleeping Beauty, and I myself noticed that it bears some artistic resemblance to Snow White... but it turns out that it has nothing to do with Disney, or its fairy tales.

It's something else entirely, and it's in French!

After zooming in and studying each frame, I managed to make out the following text:

une languissante sirene! Enfin, il sera bientôt heureux, si c'est là ce qui doit causer son bonheur. Je sais que je suis agréable à regarder, puisque j'y ai du plaisir moi-même, et de ce plaisir je ne priverai pas mon mari, au contraire. Je ne sais si je l'aimerai, je l'espère; mais je veux qu'il m'aime lui, et je ferai pour lui plaire tout ce qui lui plaira. Ah! chère Adélaïde, je suis pleine de rêves absurdes et de pensées contradictoires! Je songe à des choses qui me semblent à la fois douces et vilaines, et j'ai des imaginations qui me font rougir en même temps que pleurer! Au moins, je ne m'ennuie pas. Je vis plus en une heure de ces journées que l'an passé je ne vécus en toute l'année. Chaque heure me renouvelle, me grandit et m'épanouit. Je me semble un rosier qui fleur rirait à vue d’œil, je suis fraîche et parfumée; je suis légère et forte: j'attends le bonheur. Paul est plus beau que je ne l'avais encore jamais tu. Il est pâle avec de grands yeux pleins de fièvre et d'amour. Je le trouve sublime quand il s'agenouille près de moi pour me regarder comme en prière. J'ai envie de le prière aussi, parfois, et de coucher ma joue sur ses genoux, mais quand j'ai cette envie-la, je me fâché contre moi-meme et je boude Paul.

Which, roughly translated into English, means:

a languid siren! Finally, he will soon be happy, if that is what will make him happy. I know that I am pleasant to look at, since I take pleasure in it myself, and of this pleasure I will not deprive my husband, on the contrary. I do not know if I will love him, I hope so; but I want him to love me, and I will do whatever he pleases to please him. Ah! dear Adelaide, I am full of absurd dreams and contradictory thoughts! I think of things that seem to me both sweet and ugly, and I have fantasies that make me blush and cry at the same time! At least, I am not bored. I live more in one hour of these days than I lived in the whole year last year. Each hour renews me, makes me grow and blossom. I seem to myself a rosebush that blooms laughing before my eyes, I am fresh and fragrant; I am light and strong: I await happiness. Paul is more handsome than I have ever seen him before. He is pale with big eyes full of fever and love. I find him sublime when he kneels down next to me to look at me as if in prayer. I want to pray to him too, sometimes, and to lay my cheek on his knees, but when I have this desire, I get angry with myself and I sulk at Paul.

By the way, there is one more sentence (maybe even two) at the bottom of the page that is partially obscured by Belle's shoulder and right hand. It may or may not be important to the rest of the excerpt, but for completion's sake, I'll share it here:

Il est ... maintenir un homme dans les ...

Which translates to:

He is ... to keep a man in the ...

Intriguing, isn't it? What was she trying to say?

Overall, the author appears to be an unwed woman dreaming of her future marriage to a man named Paul. Her confidante is someone named Adelaide, but I suspect she is actually writing to herself. Regardless, she is either betrothed to Paul or she longs to be, since she calls him her husband. Perhaps it is an arranged marriage? She goes on to dwell upon his handsomeness, and how she longs to be close to him, but then she gets angry at herself for feeling this way. The last line of the passage is incomplete, but my best guess is that the author is saying that Paul is not to blame for her sulking, so it is not right to keep a man in the dark, i.e. ignorant. I could be wrong, though. In any case, she is conflicted about her feelings on the matter. You could even say that her feelings are "new, and a bit alarming".

I can see why the filmmakers chose this passage for Belle's book.

It may not be a fairy tale, but it certainly has elements from the film. There are references to beauty, roses, imagination, and eyes filled with love, and passion.

Belle:

"Oh, isn't this amazing? It's my favorite part because—you’ll see Here's where she meets Prince Charming But she won't discover that it's him 'til Chapter Three!"

Do the lyrics match the story hinted at on the page itself? No, but I really respect the filmmakers for going out of their way to include this kind of detail in the film. They could have taken the easy way out, by writing out something like "Once upon a time" to echo the opening narration, or used "Lorem ipsem" Latin filler, or even meaningless brush strokes just to fill the page... but they didn't. They chose something in French that Belle herself might have liked to read. And I think that's really cool.

[lazyturtlehottub]

A breakdown of the Fangirlish interview: an exercise in media literacy

Given that the reaction to Buck and Tommy breaking up has been exacerbated by those interviews, I thought I would look into the one from Fangirlish in order to look at it with my media literacy hat on and see what was actually said. So, here’s a link to a version that doesn’t give the writer clicks because you should make up your own mind before providing revenue to the platform https://archive.ph/fqhlE

We start off with the headline: Lou Ferrigno Jr. on Saying Goodbye to 9-1-1, That Breakup and What’s Next

Right away, as the reader, we’re immediately told that LFJ is saying goodbye to 9-1-1, the implication being that this is the end of the road, no going back. This is, I will say, a choice that the writer made when they created the article: they decide on the headline, no one else. Going in, our mind has already been positioned to believe that this is an exit interview and to understand everything that comes next through that lens.

Supporting this path is this: “Lou Ferrigno Jr.’s time on 9-1-1 has come to an end[...]” but it’s important to note that no one has said this but the author of the article. At no point does she provide a statement from ABC, Tim Minnear, or LFJ to back this statement up.

Another unsubstantiated statement she makes is: “For Ferrigno Jr. it wasn’t exactly the way he envisioned the end of his time on the show [...]” Yet again, at no point in what she quotes from Lou does he say this at all. This is her take on the conversation and she has provided not a scintilla of evidence to support this statement. What she does provide is the following quote from LFJ:

“With the way things were going, and the connection that they had, I was under the impression that it was working, and they were connected,” he shared.

Putting this in the context of the interview, it does make it sound like Lou was blindsided by the break up, which is a very normal thing considering that we all know the actors barely know what’s happening even when they have the script. It’s not surprising that Lou didn’t know about the break-up since even Oliver Stark mentions that he didn’t know about it until they began filming, even though the possibility had been floated some episodes earlier.

So while this quote in the context the writer’s given does seem pretty final, if we remove the exit interview lens from it, it just reads as an actor expressing his surprise at the path his character is going.

Continuing on, the writer then writes the following: Ferrigno Jr. admits he had issues with this ending [...]

At the risk of sounding like a broken record, she doesn’t provide a quote to back this up. What she does right is frame the next quote as [...] but trying to get into the mindset of Tommy [...], which changes the context of the quote that Lou gives.

“If preserving his emotional health and saving himself is the only means to survive, then you can’t shame him for it.” He went on to add, “I honestly don’t believe that the relationship matured well enough that they should have made any type of long-term decision.”

So she makes a statement that says LFJ has issues with the ending and then immediately moves on to talk about the acting choices Lou had to go through in order to understand where Tommy was during the scene.

Perhaps the most direct quote from Lou about the relationship that sounds troubling with regards for the future of Buck and Tommy is this: “I just would have hoped that it would have lasted a little bit more,” he also told us, adding that in the hour we also have Buck “looking at those girls, and that sucks for Tommy, and it sucks for any person that’s looking at their partner looking at someone else.”

Taking this with the fact that this has been positioned as an exit interview, I agree that it does sound damning, but if you remove that filter from it then I believe it reads as an actor expressing mild regret that he didn’t get to play this stage of the character and this relationship more. However, I will admit, that this is open for interpretation given that we don’t know where this came in the interview since we don’t know what prompted this answer.

And for Ferrigno Jr., he admits he knew the two were done for good when he realized his character would call Buck “Buck.” I feel I’m a looping record but where in the interview does he say that? He doesn’t say that at all in the quote that she provides below.

She writes: Instead, Ferrigno Jr. told us that Tommy “only knows the man in front of him, Evan. And I knew it was going to come [the moment he called him Buck] because he’s always saying Evan all the time. I’m looking at a character that I’m playing, and he’s just like Evan, Evan, Evan, and in that line, I was just like… I knew this was going to happen.”

“And he doesn’t have to say that. He still can say Evan. But that is essentially signalling that this is all I know how to do, and it’s too much.”

Linked with what LFJ said earlier about Tommy protecting himself, this quote from him makes sense in the fact that Tommy called him Buck to protect himself from the hurt, to try and create some walls between them. But the writer has made this sweeping statement that he knew it was the end, implying that the relationship is at a permanent end when nothing LFJ has said supports that.

And then we move onto the bit that really highlights the bias that this article has been written around. The writer asks Lou: Could the show have been using Tommy as a roadblock to a possible Buck and Eddie relationship?

Getting into the professionalism of this question is for another time but I’ve added it here so you can see the fact that this is someone who is focused on the Buddie of it all. Evidence that supports this is in the author’s various tweets and the coverage of 9-1-1 on their website.

And I know we’re all worried about LFJ’s scheduling conflicts but I will posit that it was a standard answer from an actor who is just doing his job. In his words: “I would absolutely love to come back, but I do need to continue on my journey here. I have a number of things now that are going on that may or may not happen, and I hope that there’s no conflict if it were to be the case.”

Basically, this article is written from the point of view of it being an exit interview but at no point is evidence provided from official sources to support that statement. Throughout it all, Lou’s answers are framed within the narrative that the break-up is permanent and that he’s gone from the show for good.

I hope that this has been interesting and informative for those of you who have read it, and I hope it serves as a reminder that media literacy is for everyone, not just for an attack from those on social media against fans being publicly disappointed that a queer relationship has broken up, temporarily or otherwise.

[cancerian]

The only “dense motherfucker” is one that believes it is women that must do so (make men feel comfortable) for men. You live in a society highly governed by your fellow males, if anyone is making you feel “bad” or “sad” it is because of the rules and laws created by your fellow males. Why should women who have been oppressed and subjugated for years, and are still subjugated by a different name care for your hurt that is caused by other men.

The biggest threat to women is men, the biggest threat to men is other men. At these your big ages, you would think that half a braincell would have formed by now. There is nothing that men will do now that they have not already done in the past. This is why women’s history and their experiences with the men they loved is very important for young girls to know. That way they don’t fall into the trap of “if you show them love, they will change and be kind.” Stop trying to put women in dangerous situations under the guise of loving all humans.

You have to be small minded to think women treat all men the same, your kind needs their ego stroked. Which is why women/girls are required to say “but not all men” when discussing things that disproportionately affect them. No one owes you love, but as humans we owe each other some sense of respect. So, you must respect women’s decisions to interact with you how they feel safest doing. The same way women have learned to respect that not all men are going to respect them. Only a dense pig would think that women do not understand the concept of viewing others as humans. In fact, time and time again it is women that are viewed as less than human by the same group you’re forcing them to care for.

As women (regardless of age), and especially as black women (moving away from the POC bs) you should prioritize your safety, you are not mother Theresa (even she was proven to be a fraud) and should focus on your own wellbeing. Don’t let an idiot calling you “dense” put you in situations many never come out of alive. As someone who has a male in her life that would do anything to see her happy and accomplished (and vice versa), I don’t go around with rose colored glasses trying to change anyone’s opinions because they chose to adopt an ideology that demonizes the living experiences of others. If being called “brother” is the only way you feel welcomed, then you need to rethink your entire life. Once you’re above 25, I implore that you try using at the very least 1/3 of your brain. I know using even half would probably cause a headache, so for now let’s aim to use 1/3.

Also you bring up the fact that men disproportionately hold more seats of power, so maybe direct your sadness to the people actively causing it. Which is the men in power not caring about the broke men (any man not in power). “It won’t pan out great for anyone who is not a male” because this is what males have done throughout history (I know you used man, but I used male for a specific reason and no I’m not a terf, but I don’t care about being called that). What a pathetic thing to say, especially if you’re not the man in power. This is an issue that egotistical idiots have (not calling you an idiot, but it is what it is), claiming men created this and that, when your ancestors are not the men that created it. Stop claiming power you personally don’t have. Stop claiming other men’s hard work as your own, especially when they put in the work to actually be productive members of society.

To the original twitter post, my dude you sound very stupid and seem like the kind that spends more time watching videos than actually reading on your countries history. The win was predictable, not because “men are becoming more right wing” but because this has been a common theme in America. These people are influenced by certain kind of media because deep down they already hold these beliefs, which is why they accept them. Men don’t genuinely want to see equality, hence why when they notice any group they view less than getting more rights they retaliate. The election result only tells us the reality of America as it pertains to race and sex (even more so when we look at the outcome of certain women’s voting history). So, the replies need to stop trying to make women take the blame for actions caused by other men. We should all aim to grow up.

To all the women/girls out there, avoid men that always want to be coddled and victimized. Most importantly find ways to protect yourselves, utilize the 2nd amendment given to you not by all men, but by the men that actually wrote it in. Protect yourselves by all means, and don’t be made to feel guilty for opting for safety over danger and stress.

Edit: have come to the conclusion after reading a substantial number of replies, Tumblr has a significant number of idiots who think they are smart. As a collective, we should all go touch grass.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[ot8xbangchansgirlsblog]

𝕃𝕦𝕟𝕒 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕟𝕖 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕥𝕨𝕠 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕣 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕗𝕚𝕧𝕖 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕤𝕚𝕩

Warning: Angst/comfort/MPreg/MxM

A/B/O dynamics:

Omega (Han, Felix, Y/n)

Beta (Hyunjin, Seungmin, I.N)

Alpha (Chan, Changbin, Leeknow)

The series might traumatize you. I really hope you guys like it and enjoy it.

Summary - Request; I've just been reading your A/B/O series and it's so so so good. I was wondering if you would accept an ot8 request where their omega gets in trouble with another pack and Straykids are really worried?

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Y/N, I’m sorry.”

The words left his lips as soon as he sat down across from her. His voice was low, full of regret, but the moment they left him, he regretted them. He could already feel the weight of her anger pressing down on him.

“Sorry for what exactly, Chan?” Her eyes narrowed, and her voice dripped with venom. “For leaving me for dead?”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. His heart tightened painfully, and for a moment, he couldn’t find his voice. If only she knew...

“I didn’t leave you for dead... I promise.” His voice was a soft whisper, as if he were speaking to himself. He shut his eyes, willing away the pain that threatened to swallow him.

“Then what exactly is it?” She scoffed, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. Her eyes flashed with an intensity that made his chest tighten even more. “What’s your excuse?”

“Can... can you let me explain?” His words came out barely above a whisper, but there was a pleading tone to them. He needed her to understand—needed to make her see that he never meant for things to turn out this way.

She tilted her head, studying him for a long, hard moment. “You guys were at the territory line, right? You could smell my scent... and yet you chose to ignore it. You could hear my screams through the bond, but you chose to ignore that too,” she said, each word sharper than the last. Her anger was building, and it felt like it was radiating off her, burning everything in its path.

She was right—and wrong—and it ate at him.

He felt the weight of her words, but there was so much more she didn’t know.

“Oh, Y/N… if you only knew…” Chan thought to himself, but his voice wouldn’t cooperate.

“That’s not what happened!” The words came out more forcefully than he intended, and his hands trembled as he ran them through his hair. “Just... let me explain. Please.”

He couldn’t stop the tears that began to fall now. The overwhelming guilt, the helplessness—it all came rushing back, and he couldn’t stop it.

“Go ahead, I’m listening,” Y/N said bitterly, her arms still crossed, her gaze as hard as stone. She leaned back, her eyes never leaving him. The challenge in her words was clear—prove it.

Chan took a shuddering breath, his chest rising and falling with the weight of everything he had been holding in for so long. He wasn’t sure how to start, but the words felt too important to rush.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Hyung, look at this! Changbin’s voice boasted through the bond, brimming with excitement. He was a few meters away from Chan and LeeKnow, clearly having found something unusual.

What is it? Chan asked, his paws deep in the soil as he worked on scent-marking the perimeter of their territory. The branches around him swayed gently, brushing against his fur.

I just found this… dead… deer? Changbin tilted his head, trying to get a better smell of the carcass, his nose twitching in confusion.

Deer? We never have deer here… Chan responded, perplexed. Wait—don’t touch it! His ears pricked up, a sense of urgency creeping into his tone.

Chan’s body tensed, and he moved swiftly, using his heightened senses to track Changbin’s scent. As he closed the distance, he could feel the hairs along his neck stand on end. When he finally arrived, the sight before him took him by surprise.

Why is there a deer here? Chan questioned, his voice low, almost growling, as he scanned the area. The animal’s body lay unnaturally far from their territory line, and it was disturbing—too far beyond the boundaries of where it should have been.

Do you think someone was here? Changbin asked, circling the lifeless creature, sniffing cautiously.

I can’t smell any other scents, Chan growled, his gut twisting with unease. Something didn’t feel right. His nose was sharp—too sharp—and he knew this land like the back of his paw. There had never been a deer this far into their territory, much less one lying dead.

Stay alert, Chan warned, his voice tightening as a sense of danger gnawed at him.

Changbin nuzzled his snout into Chan’s side in silent understanding before scanning the perimeter, his tail flicking nervously.

I don’t have a good feeling about this, Changbin growled quietly.

“I know. Neither do I,” Chan agreed, taking a few cautious steps away from the deer’s body. His instincts screamed that something was wrong.

It was then that a twig snapped nearby. Chan’s reflexes were lightning fast. He growled, stepping in front of Changbin, his body tensing as he prepared for whatever threat was coming.

It’s just me, hyung. Can’t you smell me? LeeKnow emerged from the bushes, laughing softly, clearly unaware of how close he had come to putting himself in danger.

LeeKnow! Don’t do that! Chan’s voice was a low, furious growl. Oh my God, you almost got yourself killed! He snapped, heart pounding in his chest, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, LeeKnow quickly apologized, his voice sheepish, but his curiosity got the better of him. I thought you could hear me... I was pretty loud. What’s going on here? Wait—is that a deer? His eyes widened in disbelief.

Yeah, exactly, Chan muttered, still shaken. That’s why we’re on high alert. But I didn’t smell you. In fact… I don’t smell anything. His voice trailed off in confusion, his eyes narrowing as his senses felt off, almost muted. What was going on with his ability to smell?

LeeKnow’s expression darkened as he stepped closer, sniffing the air. Hyung… I don’t have a good feeling about this.

Okay, let’s just go back to the territory line, Chan replied, feeling a sudden surge of protectiveness and unease. Where’s Y/N? I don’t feel good having her this far out. His thoughts were racing. She shouldn’t be anywhere near this strange scene.

She’s picking strawberries by the wild gardens… LeeKnow replied.

Okay, go get her and—

Before Chan could finish his sentence, a sweet, unfamiliar scent filled the air. It was intoxicating, heavy and thick, like something dangerous. Chan’s heart began to race in his chest, his head spinning. What is that?

I don’t feel well, Changbin groaned, rubbing his nose with his paw. The world around them seemed to tilt, and Chan’s body started to feel sluggish, his legs unsteady.

His senses began to dull, and the world around him seemed to blur.

I can’t feel my legs… LeeKnow’s voice was panicked. His body trembled as he tried to move, but his limbs felt frozen.

Shit… It’s a trap, Chan realized too late, his stomach dropping. The sweet scent—the drugging, overpowering smell—it wasn’t just a random scent. It was a weapon.

Changbin! LeeKnow! Can you hear me?! Chan’s voice cracked with fear, the adrenaline flooding his bloodstream as he tried to move. His paws were heavy, his vision swimming. He had heard about this—heard the older Ummas in the village speak in hushed voices about poison or sedative gases. But never had he expected it to happen to them.

Changbin?! LeeKnow?! he cried out, his voice desperate, but there was no response. The two of them were collapsing, just as he was.

Chan felt his body buckle beneath him, his strength draining away as the toxin infiltrated his bloodstream. The world around him slowed to a crawl. His vision blurred, his eyes fluttering. The last thing he saw was a figure—human, but somehow otherworldly—moving toward him.

The figure knelt beside him, their face twisted into a mocking smirk. “Oh, the mighty alpha… can’t even protect his luna,” they said, their voice dripping with disdain.

Luna. The word hit him like a punch to the gut.

His heart skipped a beat. Y/N. She was out there, alone, and he couldn’t do anything.

Chan’s vision faded completely as the darkness claimed him. His body went limp, unconscious, the last coherent thought in his mind that Y/N was in danger.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“And so when we woke up, we searched for you everywhere,” Chan’s voice cracked as he spoke, his chest tightening with the weight of the memories. “Through the forest, the waterfall, everywhere we could think of, but your scent was so faint. The rogues—” he stopped, his breath shaky. “The rogues didn’t have any scent. We searched all day, non-stop, until we had no choice but to come back. The betas and omegas were freaking out. We were exhausted and starving.”

Chan’s eyes welled up with tears, his voice breaking. “I never stopped looking for you, Y/N. You have to believe me. I never gave up. I thought about you every second, every day... and I couldn’t stop searching for you.”

Y/N’s eyes glowed golden, a flash of anger and hurt in her gaze. She could feel the heat rising in her chest, the pain she had carried all this time surfacing. She had thought they weren’t looking for her, that they had abandoned her. The rogues had filled her head with lies, convincing her that no one was coming for her. But now, hearing Chan’s words, everything she had believed was shattering.

“So… so they set you guys up?” Y/N sniffled, her voice trembling as she looked up at the alpha sitting across from her. Chan was slouched on the couch, his sweatpants and black vest a stark contrast to the vulnerability in his eyes.

“Yes,” Chan said softly, his voice low with suppressed anger. “They did. And they had been planning on taking you.” He clenched his fists, the memory of the betrayal still raw. “When I found them—” he stopped, the words heavy on his tongue.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. “You... you killed them?” She gasped, her eyes widening with a mix of relief and awe. For a moment, she felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted from her chest.

“Yes.” Chan nodded grimly. “After you came back and... after seeing what they had done to you, I couldn’t let them live. I tracked them down with Mark and the hyungs. We found their den, and we killed them.” He exhaled sharply, the memory of the violence still fresh in his mind. “I couldn’t let them walk away after what they did to you... not after what they did to us.”

Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, her shoulders trembling as the tears began to fall. The enormity of what Chan had done for her hit her like a ton of bricks. He had gone through so much, fought so hard—for her. She felt an overwhelming sense of guilt flood her heart. She had been so focused on her own pain, on her own suffering, that she hadn’t once thought about what he had gone through. What he had endured.

“Channie, I’m so sorry.” Her voice was a whisper, the words barely leaving her lips as she looked up at him, her eyes filled with regret.

Chan’s gaze softened. His hands trembled as he reached out toward her, but he hesitated, unsure if she would want him to touch her. “Please... don’t apologize,” he murmured, his voice strained. “Never apologize. It’s not your fault.”

Y/N shook her head, her tears falling faster. “No, I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I was awful to you. I thought you didn’t care. I thought you gave up on finding me, and... I just... I was in so much pain. I still am. I’m angry at the world, Channie. But I hope you can forgive me for everything.” Her voice cracked with emotion, and she looked down, unable to meet his eyes.

“I don’t need you to forgive me,” Chan said softly, his voice full of warmth and understanding. “I understand, my love. I know you were in a state... a state no one should have to endure. I don’t blame you. Not at all. I should’ve been there for you, even when you pushed me away. I should’ve stayed by your side.” His voice trembled as he spoke, and his eyes darkened with the guilt of not being able to protect her. “I just... I can’t see you in pain anymore. I want to help you heal.”

Y/N’s heart ached as she reached her hand out toward him. Chan looked at her, surprised, but then slowly he took her hand in his. The moment their fingers touched, it was like electricity running through their veins. They were connected—alpha and omega—and this simple act of holding hands was enough to send a wave of relief through both of them.

“I don’t think you need to apologize either, Channie,” Y/N said, her voice more stable now, though still laced with sadness. “I think we both went through mentally and physically draining situations. I just... I can’t help but ask the Moon Goddess why. But I know she will have answers. I want to move forward. I want to put this behind us.” She paused, her chest tightening with emotion as she struggled to speak through her sobs. “I want to be a part of the pack again. I want to be normal.”

Chan pulled her into his arms, wrapping his strong arms around her as he held her close. He hoped she would let him, he hoped she would feel the comfort in his embrace. “I understand, my love. I ask the Moon Goddess every day why... but all I want is for you to heal. To feel better. I don’t want you to rush into anything, though. It gets overwhelming, but I’m right here. I promise.” He kissed her temple gently, letting the warmth of his affection seep into her.

Y/N buried her face in his chest, tears soaking into his shirt. “I’m sorry about losing the pup, Channie.” She choked on her sobs, her words trembling with grief. “I tried to protect her. I tried to shield her from it all, but they just... they kept going.”

Chan’s heart shattered hearing her cry like this. He gently cupped both sides of her face, his thumbs brushing away her tears. His voice was firm and full of love. “Baby, I will never blame you for that. Do you hear me? Never. It was not your fault. I know it hurts, but I pray you’ll understand that.”

Y/N’s heart was breaking, but she nodded, pressing closer to him. “I just... I just know it’ll be heavy to get past. I don’t think I’ll love another pup the way I loved her. She was our first…” She trailed off, her voice lost in the depth of her sorrow.

Chan held her tighter, his heart aching for her. “Time will heal us, my love. Everything will get better. I promise. We’ll get through this together.”

Y/N wiped the tears from his face as she pulled back slightly, her scent calming, though still tinged with sadness. She gave him a small, tender smile. “Thank you... for being here. For loving me through all of this.”

Chan smiled back, his eyes filled with devotion and hope for the future. “I’ll always be here, Y/N. No matter what.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Chan finally felt like he could breathe again. After everything they’d been through, after the pain, the misunderstandings, and the distance—he had finally reconnected with his luna. They had talked it all out, and in that moment, something inside him shifted. The weight he’d carried for so long—worry, guilt, fear—began to lift. He no longer feared that she might hate him, or that the rift between them would be impossible to mend.

He could finally sleep tonight, he thought, with peace in his heart.

His hand moved gently to trace circles on her arm, the motion soothing both of them. He didn’t know how long they’d been lying there, but it felt like time had slowed, like nothing else existed in the world but the quiet warmth of her presence.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His heart pounded in his chest, the words carrying everything he hadn’t been able to say before.

Y/N turned to him, her eyes soft and full of tenderness, her expression mirroring his. “I love you too, my love.” Her voice was steady, but there was a catch in it—a vulnerability that made Chan’s chest tighten with affection.

And then, in that quiet, intimate space between them, Chan’s eyes welled up with tears.

All the anger, the frustration, the guilt, and the sadness that had consumed him for so long seemed to melt away in a single moment. With Y/N’s love, with her forgiveness, all the heavy emotions that had weighed down on him for so long evaporated.

She was back in his arms—officially—and nothing in the world could have felt more right.

Chan felt her warmth against him, her heartbeat steady and calm, and he realized with a deep breath that he would do whatever it took to help her grieve, to help her heal. He wasn’t going anywhere.

He wasn’t going to lose her again.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N: i think its time to end this mini series guysss >_<

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[scribeofmorpheus]

Veilguard Review: Doom Upon the World

Warnings: Spoilers for Veilguard, very political review (considers race, gender, religion and choice consequences centred around established Thedas).

Another long post: 4k words

In my first review (Love, Wisdom and Pride), I focused on the relationships most pivotal to Solas’ arc reaching resolution: Inquisitor and Mythal (though heavily Solavellan inspired, I tried to be aware of how the Inquisitor’s role as a rival/friend outside of romance was still considered as an important relationship in his story). This review, on the other hand, will focus on the worldstate and what we lost [x], as well as my speculations on which story beats/companions/advisors I feel should have been integrated into the story for a deeper emotional payoff for past Dragon Age players (and overall story cohesion).  

N.B: This review is definitely a critique of something I love, born from love, because—yes, I had expectations; yes, they were high; no, I don’t think that’s a problem; no, I do not hate the game we got, but I mourn for what the devs clearly were building towards with the last 3 games in the series, and from what we know from the internal struggles with Bioware under EA’s helm (as evidence from the development time, layoffs, staff’s disappointment, and the differences between the final game and the concept art) the only thing getting in the way of a truly epic game was corporate meddling and greed.

Spoilers below the cut.

Without further ado, the primary criticism I have is that Varric should not have been our advisor! I read a post somewhere that succinctly surmised the that Varric was chosen as our Advisor so that:

Solas would make an “irredeemable” mistake for all the Solas haters to use as an excuse to simply view him as an antagonist, simplifying the goal of the game to: stop the elf from bringing down the Veil.

Varric was used for marketing purposes rather than story depth choices; he’s popular, beloved and an easy carrot for the EA stick to dangle in front of loyal fans.

His writer has literally been trying to kill him off for the last 2 games! Varric was supposed to die in Inquisition! (lol)

I firmly believe he should have been holding the blight back in Kirkwall, and that his position as Viscount of Kirkwall should have affected the outcome of the blight spreading in the South!

Advisors in the North

Right off the bat, the two best choices for advisor, (excluding the Inquisitor out of favouritism) should have been Dorian and Morrigan.

Dorian: because we’re in the North, the Shadow Dragons are by far the more “grassroots organisation against imperial power” kind of organised body the Inquisition started out as. Since we don’t have a calling to fight against like the Wardens in Origins or a family to try and keep together in a city on the brink of implosion like Hawke, or a pseudo religious-political body to inspire Hope in the faithful like the Inquisitor, Valour, Love and Hope cannot be at the heart of this story. It has to be JUSTICE [x].

Justice for the culmination of Anders’ story; for Merril and everything she endured to repair the eluvian; for Fenris, the origin of his lyrium tattoos (which according to GhilDirthalen’s post, there was a plot point linked to elves whose lyrium bodies did not possess latent magical prowess) and the slaves in Tevinter; for the rebelling elves that should have formed factions as the Dread Wolf’s Agents like the Trespasser epilogue hinted at; for misunderstood spirits hurt by mages like Cole; for the ancient elves like Abelas; for the templars who saw the corruption in their ranks but had no way out because of lyrium addiction like Sampson; for those corrupted by red lyrium that was spreading throughout Thedas with no cause or cure; for the dwarves like Branka, obsessed with the answers held in the Anvil of the Void, or Harding, or Shaper Valta who saw a Titan and witnessed the death of the Legion of the Dead; for Sandal’s prophecy!; for the qunari oppressed by the Qun, turned talvashoth, searabas, hisraad like Bull! Justice for two decades worth of worldbuilding on the part of the writers and the devs who loved telling these stories.  

Morrigan: is self-explanatory to the story they were crafting between Solas and Mythal. And what would have been even better is if they actually just explained away the Well of Sorrows’ choice unaffecting the Inquisitor because Morrigan eventually had to assimilate the essence from the well to keep the Inquisitor from going mad—like the anchor had to be tempered by Solas in Trespasser. Easy as that!

The best part is that pitting Morrigan and Dorian as foils of each other further allows the game to have greater stakes and tension because Morrigan (changed by Mythal’s righteous anger and need for justice for what was done to her by the Evanuris) could champion making choices more detrimental to Thedas but ultimately in line with Solas’ plans. And Dorian could make choices that put the safety of Thedas’ citizens at the forefront by sacrificing headway in stopping Solas and his Agents from advancing with their plans!

Best yet, we could have had a hardened vs softened Dorian depending on whether you recruited him in Inquisition, and/or did his quest.

[Inquisitor concept art by Matt Rhodes]

Favouritism Bonus Round: The Inquisitor (or alternatively Morrigan) should have been the voice to champion Rook to seek out the wolf statues, and they should have been present when discussing the memories, as it would have given them more gravitas when uncovering the literal story of "Solas is Andrastian God creating the Veil" or "the Dalish Dread Wolf is being proven to be a saviour" or "Elves originally being spirits in the beginning", or "Titans were at war with the elves" beyond comments like: “Oh, Solas regrets this” or “They were doing it”. (This is the issue with having a “couch setting” for a “war room”—discussions feel less intellectual, factions don’t necessarily bring their own unique viewpoint into the interpretation of Solas’ decisions/Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain’s presence, etc.) Everyone is not digesting the material given like it’s a clue to stopping the world from ending but rather like gossip. With the Inquisitor, as either a friend to Solas, a rival or a romanced Lavellan, finally finding the Dread Wolf’s Achilles Heel after vowing to stop him would have rung true, closed the loop.

Sigh.

This is also why I feel the Inquisitor should have been the one in Varric’s place—like literally. I mean recovering from an injury after failing to catch up to Solas in ACT 1, possibly dispatched by Agents of Fen'Harel! Because they could then be forced to pass the mantle to hunt down Solas to “Rook”. Not dead. Or a blood magic illusion. Just, Inquisitor, wounded, making small talk, sometimes bringing up plot points from Inquisition—your Hawke on the battlements in DA:I or Alistair in the gardens with Morrigan and Keiran.

It would also make more sense for the Inquisitor to be able to use the eluvian to travel between Skyhold and the Lighthouse, allowing for believable absences during plot points where their lack of action inspite of their presence wouldn’t make sense. Not to mention more gut-wrenching if we heard about the South from Inky rather than reading 4 letters!

Previously, I stated how the Inquisitor’s presence needed more weight in the non-Solavellan endings! Some people’s Inquisitor befriended Solas, some hated him, either way, the Inquisitor should have been present for the final showdown beyond a passive observer! If the Inquisitor ended up being the last friend/former love that Solas destroys (in a bad worldstate end where you don’t collect Mythal’s essence), which then prompts Rook to fight him because Solas’ last tie to empathy failed to redeem him, that would have added so many layers! The Inquisitor falling is the last straw for Solas too, whether friend, lover or foe, he fought beside them, stopped Corypheus with them! The Inquisitor was partially his making of a hero; his first “good” mistake! It would then make sense for him to snap, choosing to be a villain in the hopes of being stopped because he can’t stop himself, he’s come too far! Rather than the ‘I am a God’ ending they gave us.

Agency of a “Rook” on an Empty Chess Set (Factions and Backstory)

Personally, from both a writing and a viewer’s perspective, I think our protagonist should have always been linked to the Shadow Dragons (and the factions choices shouldn’t have been incorporated. This is more because, framing one’s backstory as being a member of a faction—not a people with established political positions in Tevinter—siphons the narrative of personal stakes. Imagine being a mage who could have begun with higher approval in Tevinter but lower elsewhere, maybe they’d be saved from the Venatori’s thrall that was linked to Neve’s companion story—again linked to Ashur and the Dragons. Or an elf mage could begin a storyline like that of the city elf in da:o but focused on the Shadow Dragons’ tackling slavery’s presence in Tevinter. A Qunari origin could explore being a refugee aided by the Shadow Dragons as they flee the Qun because they don’t fit in the dogmatic religion. A warden could be a criminal in Tevinter, showing us what is considered ‘rules for criminality’ in a city that corrupt and extremist.

Overall, the factions don’t add much diversity to Rook’s background, backstory, dialogue tree or influence on the world state beyond a last name that doesn’t really matter. With a Shadow Dragons’ background, the very ethos of “Rook” would have been about overcoming oppression, and then the nickname makes sense too, a name to stay concealed, to keep loved ones safe while DAV’s protagonist battles politics, blood mages and blighted gods. It would have been even more meaningful if the nickname “Rook” paralleled “Dread Wolf”, in that it was bestowed by your origin-based backstory antagonist and then used as a call to freedom (we wouldn’t even need a cutscene, this could have been revealed in part of their banter/dialogue). This simple choice would have allowed us to focus on Treviso and the Antaam’s occupation and Tevinter and the Venatori’s rise to power on a more personal level. It would also place our Rook in a position to be a foil to Solas’ “do what is necessary for the greater good” vs “be better than those that came before” plot lines. Building off this, the hardened companion status between Neve and Lucanis should have formed a parallel, with one tilting towards understanding Solas’ extreme efforts to stop the Gods, whereas the non-hardened character should have taken the role of foil. Both of whom would add balance to the tension when discussing Solas’ memories or even in exploration banter during missions (one the “devil” on your shoulder, the other your “angel” depending on where Solas’ actions stand for you since Inquisition).

Finally, the Shadow Dragons' should have been linked to Dorian more directly, potentially created with backing/support from the Inquisition’s advisors/Inquisitor directly (since their default attire is the Shadow Dragon apparel).

Companions: Cole for Compassion; Briala for Rebellion and Revenge

Cole

In my review Love, Widsom and Pride, I briefly touched on the fact Cole (whether recruited, not recruited, kept spirit or changed human) was absolutely necessary as a companion. Because it doesn’t matter which version was present in the world (RIP the tapestry), every iteration of Cole works synergistically with appealing to Solas’ spirit side:

If he wasn’t recruited in Inquisition, he could simply have his default origins as a compassion spirit that ‘follows’ the greatest pain in the Fade that yearns to be healed, giving a compassionate viewpoint to Solas’ folly.

Recruited-to-the-Inquisition Spirit Cole could have a greater connection to Solas than even Varric, seeing as Cole was most likely a literal representation of Solas rewriting his own history of corruption by preventing a spirit from becoming something against its nature.

Human Cole would have a deeper connection to the world of Thedas, and could have been a great tool to prove how change was inevitable, not always a bad thing, and inevitably out of even Solas’ control. And he could still offer insight into Solas' mind via 'remnants' of the time he was more spirit.

Briala

What I enjoy about this companion head canon is that Briala is literally Solas’ direct parallel story-wise:

She’s in love with Celene, the ‘best’ choice for ruler in Orlais even though she burned Briala’s alienage. They share a great power imbalance, with Celene able to affect the fate of all elves in Orlais, yet is unwilling to free them, return the Dales, or concede power even though she claims to love Briala, too. Briala is a rebellion upstart, raised by Felassan for crying out loud. She controlled the eluvians and knew how to get around the crossroads, she has more of a bone to pick with Solas than any other NPC not close to the Inquisitor! (Celene and Mythal share many similarities as well, with Celene seen as the more benevolent of rules when compared to Gaspard the Warmonger; and if Gaspard is in power but controlled by Briala, her being dethroned from her seat of power by Agents of Fen’Harel when she lost access to the eluvians would have been a great story arc to explore).

Sidenote on DAV's Romance, Companions and Choice Consequence

Building off having either Cole or Briala as a companion, I do think it would have been nice to have them as non-romanceable too. Don’t get me wrong, I know it's great to have options, but I do feel making everyone “pansexual” wasn’t the right way to go for all the companions. It takes away character choice, personality, taste and individualism from the companions. Dorian’s story would not be nearly as impactful if he could have been romanced regardless of gender. Solas being unwilling to romance any race besides elf (though a direct correlation to the developers being afraid of the ‘evil bisexual’ trope that was popular in the 2010s) also adds to his story; where he’s reluctant to see the world as real, to accept non-elven people as having agency, because that would mean he wasn’t walking through a see of Tranquil, but instead, he was the Forgotten One out of time.

I also firmly believe that a possible reason Cole wasn’t a companion despite there being plans in place that he’d return (Trespasser epilogue slide, I remember you), is because I can 100% see an EA big-wig being like: “He’s unfuckable. Give us someone hot and brooding and slap a demon in them and you’ve got fuckable-Cole” and then we got Lucanis.

I like Lucanis. I’m not crazy about him, but I enjoy the Machiavllian family drama. Very Renaissance Medici story beats. I adore Mary Kirby as a writer, too, but I feel the introduction to the Crows of Antiva should have been Zevran’s mantle, or he should have at least haunted the narrative and missions related to the Crow factions (of which there should definitely have been factions within the Crows). Considering the fact I romanced Lucanis, I couldn’t shake the fact that a lot of his “acceptance for being bound to Spite” beats paralleled a Human Cole having been ‘cured’ from Compassion.

The romances seem less… memorable to me than past games. The importance of choice means you have to accept the story unfolding based on the consequences of your choices; and gender-locking at least one companion would show the cause and effect of beginner choice. Taash is actually written to prefer women over men, which is vital to their arc around gender dysphoria and being non-binary, they would have been a perfect candidate! I imagine their story would also be a great way to explore how being one race attempting to romance another could have a slower progression rate (again, because of Taash’s multi-cultural background, and their complex feelings at having been raised by a mother so tied to the Qun, them being cagier around a qunari Rook romance would also have added layers!) But with everyone available to be romanced, and having no initial repercussion for early game choices despite which character model would have bruises or cuts (Neve or Harding), genuinely roleplaying as Rook, and not as someone using Rook as a stand-in for ourselves, is more disconnected than previous games. This is why the romances feel off to me. Doing the romanceable companions’ storylines seem like I’m the one trying to date them, not Rook. Maybe it’s because Rook’s established personality is the direct repercussion of a sanitized worldstate!  

Foibles of being ‘Unproblematic’: A Sanitised World

The issue with trying to make a game that won’t touch on difficult topics, is that, when you make that game a sequel to a series that was literally built on the backs of tackling real world politics, it makes a lot of the world seem plastic. A poor imitation perhaps.

The World of Thedas book actually tells us that Thedas is a fantasy setting that uses the real world as its backdrop for conflict and world building. Andraste is Joan of Arc. Andrastian faith is Christianity founded by a woman. Orlais is the French bourgeois era. Fereldan is more Highlands/Celtics region if it never had a chance to expand because of the blight. Elves are the disenfranchised (and a direct parallel to popular elven cultures that were often portrayed as the pinnacle of advanced magic/civilisation). City elves live in alienages (literal ghettos). Dalish elves (native to the land) are being run out of their homes, the Orlesian’s are trying to claim the territory for their Empire, and their numbers are dwindling, their culture and language a poor imitation of what it had been, barely surviving colonialisation! Dwarves have a caste system that determines everyone’s future! Dagna had to leave her home! Harding grew up on the surface. Varric’s whole plot thread anchoring him in act 1 of DA2 is helping his brother discover Deep Roads riches so they can get their family’s title again.

And through all 3 games prior to Veilguard, we’re told the Ventaori are monsters, the Imperium is crueller to its elves/slaves than any place in the South! The best option beyond turning Feynriel tranquil in DA2 (one of the few Dream Walker mages) is to send him to Tevinter. What becomes of a half-Dalish mage in Tevinter? Neve, our first companion beside Harding, is determined to make Dock Town a place worth living! So, to walk into Veilguard and have no slavery storylines in a place called the fucking TEVINTER IMPERIUM (modelled after the fucking Roman Empire close to collapse) is so jarring. So unbelievable. What injustice is Neve battling? What woes has Dorian been dealing with in the Magisterium?

The closest we get to seeing the darkness that exists in the world (besides the hanging corpses lining the streets of Dock Town if you save Treviso, is the side quest where a father makes a deal with a demon to keep his child alive by sacrificing so many innocents).

And then there's Tevinter's "savage" neighbours, the Invading forces of the Qun! Frightening, right? But from the blasé manner the Qun's rigidity is discussed, it is framed as though anyone can simply up and leave the Qun if they so wished it, according to Taash’s mom. Yes, Taash is being hunted, and their mom is taken prisoner, but it was all in service to a tablet that discussed fire-breathing, not about returning to the Qun. Iron Bull being deemed hisraad holds less severity when the consequences of leaving a subjugating, dogmatic, religious-political society are simply... nothing. There's no anchor to Taash being raised in Rivain for safety reasons beyond keeping their fire-breathing secret. And what of all the elves that commit to the Qun? Why are there no elf converts among the Antaam? What about the fucked-up stuff the Dwarves of Kal-Sharok were doing before Veilguard? Kal-Sharok dwarves apparently were changed by the First Blight, and are supposed to have a ‘tainted’ appearance according to the World of Thedas concept art book. Why are they just... normal dudes in booby armour (lol)?

[Imshael! A demon/spirit of choice & Calpernia as potential companions is insanity>>!]

I possibly wouldn’t have these strong opinions if the games gave the companions more… just more ‘controversial’ stories with harder choices! Veilguard in a way feels like playing a game with child-lock on. Yes, what happens to Tevinter or Treviso looks awful when you see it, but the side-quests, companion stories, NPC dialogues and world around the ‘mise-en-scene’ don’t reflect this--it's like set dressing. The “I can’t believe the Venatori are evil” side comments by Rook in Tevinter when the Venatori takes over become whiny, child-like and “hopes and prayers” coded. Do something then, Rook. You are the hero of this story, are you not?

I am forever grateful that Lucanis is actually hardened and removed as a romance interest if you sacrifice Treviso (finally, good old dragon age consequences).

Now onto good criticism of our companions!

Companions: The Good, the Balanced and the Essential

Good: Neve and Davrin.

Neve is our eyes and heart to Dock Town, our humanising presence for the Tevinter Imperium. She is also written in a way that I find her to have the best agency as a non-romanced character than most.

Davrin is a breath of fresh air for the reputation of the Grey Wardens, he’s the genuine article. Him owning up to being young and foolhardy when he rejected the Dalish ways in search of adventure, only to be battle-hardened and then become more appreciative of the fact he was taught to live in harmony before he was exposed to the discord of the Deep Roads is such a good character growth moment.  

Balanced: Harding. Harding grows into a much more invaluable story piece when she unlocks the Stone Sense and uncovers her people’s history. It’s a rather short-sighted choice to have her be one of the Ultimate Sacrifice characters because what becomes of the story of the Stone? Who hears the song? Who will speak of the Titans to other dwarves if she is chosen to go on the final mission?

Essential: Antoine and Evka! No notes, they should have been conditional companions in a side quest! They’re fleshed out so well, and their relationship is real and built into their character, but it’s not all they are! Antoine is smart, hopeful and also tortured by the new blight. Evka is powerful, pragmatic and also caring.

The Red Herring that should have been: Bellara as an Agent of Fen’Harel! Her storyline would have worked with the concept of being found ‘suspicious’ by players if the Agents of Fen’Harel were an active group. A Veil Jumper in Arlathan whose brother got entabgled with a Forgotten One? Someone who is an outright believer in the elven pantheon? O, Bellara, the power you would have had as a possible double-agent in our midst, only for us to have been wrong in doubting her and having it be someone else! Race and position to power should have inforced so many story beats in this game, man!

Finally: Religion, Where?

I’m a little exhausted, so I’ll wrap this part a little quickly. Religion is paramount to understanding the decisions and states of mind of so many characters in Thedas. Leliana’s arc alone is one of the most intimate insights into Andrastian faith! The Inquisitor is literally responsible for appointing the Divine! The Divine can call for an Exalted March! The Black Divine is a huge plot point when discussing the differences between the Southern and Northern iterations of the Chant. Tevinter’s Old Gods (Archdemons) are blighted dragons linked to the Evanuris that whisper the will of their masters to humans. Archdemons are responsible for the Blight, our first “save the world kiddo” moment in da:o! So where is the disbelief in the streets that Elven Gods exist? Why is it always “Our Gods” are back? What about city elves who believe in the Chant of Light? Where is the Black Divine? Why is everyone okay remaining Andrastian when the fact Solas made the Veil is revealed? Where is the politics and religious civil war in the streets between NPCs?! Between companions? Why isn’t there a cultish, zealous group of extreme Andrastians following Solas around? Why isn’t there another version thinking of Solas and all elves as the second coming of Maferath? How are city elves fairing compared to Dalish elves at the reveal it’s their pantheon gunning to end the world? Again! RACE AND POLITICS MATTER! They always mattered in Thedas before, yet here they are anecdotal at best.

The Veil Should Have Come Down

It’s apparent to me, and numerous others, that Veilguard was stunted by its attempts to be an entry piece that wasn’t alienating to new players of the RPG game format, but it was also haunted deeply by it’s very EPIC tapestry mechanic (chocies mattered!). Ironically, Veilguard served to be a soft re-boot of the series. This, I think, was the grandest mistake. If they meant to reboot the series for future instalments, we should have fundamentally changed the physics and rules of Thedas completely to allow the next instalment to start from the literal ground up. By bringing down the Veil, we’d finally free the Titan’s, introduce the concept of Dwarves with magic, awaked the Forgotten Ones and maybe allow for new species/lore/concepts to shape the future. And to work around the tapestry, they could have simply set the next sequel 200 years later. Sent our heroes to rest. Ended with a new canvas.

It should have concluded with the very ending that was prophesied by Sandal in DA2:

“One day the magic will come back. All of it. Everyone will be just like they were. The shadows will part, the skies will open wide. When he rises everyone will see.”

Bonus: Anaris should have been a DLC boss with Fenris involved!

Why, you ask? Just this data-mined codex entry still present in the game:

Truth be told, like they did with Corypheus in the Origins DLC, I think they could very well bring him back as the big bad of DA5—which I think should have always been about fleshing out the war between the Titans / the Forgotten Ones / Evanuris!

Anaris and a waking Titan?! That would have been beyond amazing!

Which… again, is why the Veil should have COME DOWN!

P.S.: I know a lot of these criticisms seem like unhappy nitpicks, but I did enjoy Veilguard, I got an ending I could live with. BUT I am so angry by how many roadblocks are placed before game devs with a clear story in mind--as is obvious with the concept art book. Obvious threads were leading to Veilguard having always been the end of the Dragon AGE! We kill the last Archdemon! The last dragon linked to the Gods and the blight! The game developers have even alluded to having fought tooth and nail with EA's suits, but could only manage to give us the game we got. And I'm beyond grateful. But MAN does it hurt!

Remember to say thank you to the writers/artists/voice actors on their socials, they deserve a little love too.

Fin!