#but while they were known to get results and Generally

[dreamlogic]

quietly getting more & more annoyed at my housemate & her bf as the evening goes on. thought they were at his house this weekend but they showed up unexpectedly to have loud sex here, left for a little bit, came back in the middle of a fight, and are now watching tv really loudly in between continuing to totally-not-fight-everything's-FINE.

[ctrlhope]

Bound By Blood (m)

synopsis: A servant to the state since birth, forced to work for the royal family until you die. These are the conditions that have granted you life, yet are they are the same ones that can take everything away. He can take everything away. But he would never, for you are his future, his eternity.

k.taehyung x f.reader

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: wc: 16.0k

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: genre: royalty au, soft yandere, fluff, smut, smidge of angst

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: content: soft yandere!prince!taehyung, maid!reader, power imbalance, talks about death/violence, blood, slight predator/prey dynamics, manipulation, misunderstandings, dom!tae, tae calls reader lamb, oral (f.receiving), marriage related dirty talk, virginity kink/loss of virginity, size kink, praise, reader is fucked dumb, implied kissing reader while she sleeps, implied offscreen somno, implied stalking, ownership, tae is rlly sweet and adorable

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: notes: hello!!! this was meant to be a drabble but as you can see it spiralled out of control lmao. i got a little hyper fixated (and grew a really bad crush on this taehyung) so it ended up being way longer than i initially thought! regardless, i hope you all enjoy it as much as i did writing it!!

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

The Kim Empire. 

Your home, your family, your livelihood all wrapped up in those three little words.

They practically brandish your mind, have been since you were no more than a babe. Stuck in the clutches of everything Kim since you were born. Your mother a maid, your father gone from the face of the earth. At least as far as you are concerned he is, anyway. 

He is better off dead. The alternative of him living scott free in some far off land, meanwhile you have to serve the hand and foot of the king sets no more than the bitter taste of coffee beans against your gums. 

Bedding your mother, no more than a fresh-faced maid at the time. Outcasting her the second after when he had to have known the rules of the palace. The demise it would cost both her and her future daughter. Perhaps every generation that followed as well– if there were to be any, that is. 

Housestaff are not meant to have relationships. They are meant to serve the king and his bountiful family. How are you meant to do anything else with a child bouncing at your hip, a husband grabbing at your ass. 

You’ve heard the speech plenty of times. The words ingrained in your skull just as the brand you received when you were far too young to remember the pain of it. Evidence that you are bound to the palace by blood until the very moment you take your last breath. 

The punishment for becoming pregnant within the walls of the palace are simple: your child belongs to them. For anything within the Kim Estate is their rightful property, given to them by the grace of god. 

You, a gift from god to serve the empire. You would snort at the notion if training from a young age prohibited it. You are just a result of your mothers kindness, her naivety. 

You could never find it within your heart to blame her. She was just a girl who thought she was in love. Fired for her love. Had her daughter taken from her to serve for her love.

Love is something you will never be granted the property of. 

You will be granted an allowance to send home to your mother to keep her afloat. You will be granted a room to sleep in, clothes to wear, food to eat. A secure job in which you can never be fired– well. That is a lie. Though, your termination would come at the end of an axe, rather than a piece of paper. 

You used to muse at the thought– when you were a young girl, no more than 11 or 12. Going through your melancholy years, hating the rest of the world for simply existing. For putting you in a position where you could not change your fate, instead had to endure your present. Feeling like a  girl trapped in a tower just like the bedtime stories had always prescribed. 

One time you had caused such a ruckus in front of the oldest Kim son you really did think you were going to get the axe. Hell, you were even prepared for it. Locked away in a cell for two nights, brought before the executor. 

Right before the swing was meant to be brought down against your neck the head maid ran into the room, gave some sort of letter to the man. She apologised profusely, gripping your ear and dragging you away from the scene. 

You hadn’t acted ary since then. It taught you your place. Made you realise the need to survive buried deep within your bones. In the innate way some sort of wildcat would lash out until it was bloodied and on its last breath. 

You would not die at the end of a knife. You’d live your life, acting a maid until you could die peacefully of old age. Even if it meant surrendering yourself to servitude for the most annoying brat you’ve ever laid eyes on. 

A quiet sigh slips past your lips at the mere thought of him. The sound would get you punished if anyone were to hear, especially in respect to the coveted crown prince of the kingdom. Few share the same opinion as you of him– but then again most that work here aren’t forced. 

It is only when the stars are strung high in the sky that you allow yourself to feel such things. When you stay awake past the beginning of rest hours, most of the staff (save for the night shift) falling to sleep hours prior. Only then when you’re out in the gardens do you allow indignation to satiate your brain. 

For the few hours of freedom you may hold dear until the next morning begins and you are forced to live the same day once more. Over and over again until the end of time. 

Your fingertips reach out as you walk, bruised from the scrubbing of floors, to find purchase against the walls of flowers rimming the maze. Rough fingertips dance against the gentle petals of roses, lulling in the feeling. Picking themselves against the thorns without much of a thought, not withdrawing. Only pausing feet to observe. 

How can something so delicate and beautiful wish to cause harm? It does not. It simply desires a way to survive. You could never fault it for that. 

“Pretty, are they not?” A dark, husky voice sends cold down your spine. Hairs become on edge, back straightens taught, ears perk just as if you are an obedient dog. Fear flashing through your entire being.

You do not wish to turn around. Do not have any want to face the man that has caught the air in your lungs. The one catching you in the garden without any proper attire in place. Though you must. You must bow, grovel at his feet for forgiveness for allowing him to see you in your nightgown. For not being in bed as you should. 

Prince Kim has never been known for being kind. 

Your body acts for you while your mind sets on pause– taking several steps forward, bending your body at the hips to give a proper 90 degree bow. Your hands clasp before you, hair coming down in front of your face. 

“Prince Kim–” You rush, suddenly out of breath, “Please forgive my insolence. I-I am not of right attire or mind to be standing in front of his excellency right now. Nor should I be excused for touching the property of the palace. I have no proper excuse and any punishment you decide will be deserving. Please forgive me.” The words recite from your lips like a bible– instruction of them being heard time and time again. 

Cold night air whips at your ankles, fluttering the gown around your ankles. The chill only adding to the cold sweat you’ve discovered has perspired. Making your hair dance around your shoulders.

You expect something, anything really. A slap, a single word. Though there is only silence in response. Silence that extends far too long and feels far too pungent for your taste. If he was going to do something, you rather he just get it over with. 

After what feels like an eternity, you finally hear the baritone of his voice once more.

“Pretty, are they not?” He asks again, repeating the same sentiments as before. Confusion bristles through as a kite in the summer air. Why is he asking you this? Is he not annoyed he caught a maid in such a level of disrobement? What is he trying to gain? What does he want? 

All the questions you do not have any hope to answer rush through you causing you to feel confused and incomposed. Every boring lesson you were forced to sit through never taught you how to deal with this exact situation. You aren’t sure what he wants, nor your place in the garden. The thought scares you. 

Against your better judgement, you allow your chin to tilt up only slightly. Only enough to look at the man– to try and read the expression on his face so you can better analyse your next action. 

The shock you feel when you find his face is only inches from your own, frame bent down to make his eyes level with yours is something you cannot explain in words alone. 

You would prefer to scream and run, however that is not an option at this moment, or so it appears. Instead, your eyes only widen in shock, in trepidation. Your mouth opens into a small ‘o’ as you stare.

Never before have you made eye contact with a member of the family. Never before have you had the luxury to view one so close. In any other circumstance, you suppose, you would surely be punished for such a thing. Someone lower should never view a future king in such a way.

You wish you could say he was a heinous, ugly beast for hatred of the palace alone. Yet you can’t, for he isn’t. He is beautiful. 

Sure, you knew that already. Paintings of him are plastered across the walls– his face is everywhere eyes are able to reach. Yet this close, at this angle, you can’t stop the way your heart skips a beat. Can’t help but admire every facet of his complexion before being thrown in front of the lion again. 

A gorgeous, blinding smile wipes across his face the moment you face him. Lips forming into an adorable box after he finally has your attention fully drawn on him. You’re startled back once again, sending your brain into a further whirlwind than before. 

He desires an answer.

“I um… Yes. I suppose they are.” You nod slowly in response, following in his footsteps as he returns to full height. 

You must follow his lead– it is how you will survive. 

You usher a stray lock of hair over your shoulder, trying to stop it from hitting your face. The air starts to become stale again, feeling empty in the lack of his reply. It is awkward, and the way he stares at you, eyes darting around your face– your figure, has you feeling in some sort of girlish, embarrassed way. 

You think you dislike the feeling. 

“Are you a fan of roses?” His arms are pulled behind him, wrapped together as he bounces on his toes in something that looks like… boyish delight? The muddle of your brain can't help to understand a single thing. He is making no sense, trying to make conversation with you. Trying to find a morsel of companionship in someone who is meant to bow to him like he is the true god of your mortal plain.

You will have to oblige until he allows you to depart. 

“I suppose so.” 

He frowns. Try again.

“I adore them, the palace always has the most gorgeous petals all year round.” You smile at him, hoping it masks any discomfort you feel. 

The smile returns to his own lips as he begins to walk. Tilting his head to you as a cue to join him. You try to keep your paces a few behind his own, a maid should never walk beside a member of the family. Though he only slows in response, matching your gate even though it is obvious he hates having to slow down. 

Why is he behaving in this manner? It makes no sense to you. 

“The flower of devotion.” He nods, breaking the silence once more and keeping his eyes straight ahead. 

You almost want to admire his profile– the gentle curve of his nose, yet you refrain. Training your eyes ahead, keeping your fingers laced in front of you. Trying to look as put together as possible at this moment. 

“Is it?” You quiz, unable to take the awkward silence anymore. He doesn’t seem to mind it. Unbothered, tucking his hands into the pockets of his loose, flowing sleep pants. 

“Of many other things, as well.” He nods, sending a slight smile at you. 

“I don’t know much about the language of flowers.” Though it feels wrong to be talking with Prince Kim so casually, you try your best. The more you give in, mayhaps the sooner he’ll bore and the faster you will be able to run from the cage. 

“Tell me your favourite, maybe I can tell you its meaning.” He pauses and you find yourself at the foot of the gazebo. He reaches out his hand, offering to help you up the small stairs of it. 

All over again you find yourself taken aback. The prince is requesting that you touch him, not for his service, but your own. He desires to help you. Is for some reason treating you like a lady. 

You don’t understand it, yet with great hesitation you oblige. You place your hand on his much larger one, allowing it to encase it. Help you up the stairs.

“I don’t know many…” You hope he cannot hear the hesitation in your tone, “Though I’ve always been fond of lilies.” You tell him, attempting to pull your hand away from his own as you reach the top. 

He doesn’t allow it, keeping your small palm tight in his own. Fear trickles in once more, circling around your heart, constricting it. 

You knew you shouldn’t have trusted him in the slightest. It is here where you shall face punishment for all the previous misdemeanours committed. White stone shall be painted with red and you will be left to your own devices to clean up the mess.

Your lungs start to take in more air, though of course you try to disguise it. Turning around to face him, to discover why he has kept you held firm, air is leaving your lungs for another reason entirely. 

He holds your hand close, examining your fingers. Tilting it back and forth, smoothing his thumb over the back of your skin. If he takes note of the little dots of red, he doesn’t make comment of it. He only curls his fingers upwards, hooking against your own. Bringing your hand up to his lips as if it was the most delicate thing on earth. Staring at them with a passion you doubt you’ve ever seen before.

“Rebirth.” His breath fans across your knuckles, slowly lowering to place a gentle kiss against the skin. His lips are soft, so gentle against your weary flesh. So full of safety, so full of song.

When he retracts, he pulls away no more than a millimeter, though his grip tightens. 

“Purity.”

Your first meeting with the prince had left you with a flurry of emotions, none of which you could hope to syphon through. For hours he kept you in the gazebo, sitting with you. Talking until it appeared the sun was cresting over the horizon. 

He refused to release your hand the entire time. His fingers playing with your own, perhaps obsessed with the feeling of your tiny hand laced with his own pristine skin. Did not pay any attention the several times you tried to excuse yourself, only changing the subject of conversation to try and keep you in place.

It was strange. Confusing. You did not understand the reasoning or cause behind any of his actions. 

Well, at least until the next morning while you were scrubbing the floors. Your friend Annabell cleaning right by your side. Catching up, gossiping about the new recruits found in the manner. It is only times like these when you actually get the chance to talk, to giggle with someone meant to be your equal in both age and house status. 

The only chance you’re truly able to forget about the fact she is able to leave once her contract expires. But it does not matter– any small amount of spite you hold is slashed away by her kind smile. The understanding in her eyes as she treats you like just another maid set to work for the king instead of a captive. 

It is only after the 7th yawn of the morning she asks about the poorly covered bags under your eyes. You had gone to bed with the rest of the girls, there is no reason you should be so tired. You never appear to be, at least it is not shown around others.

You struggle with yourself for a moment, trying to decide whether the night before was meant to be kept as a closely guarded secret to your chest. Yet one look at your closest confidant had you spilling everything. 

The entire night– the stars, the flowers, the way he prattled on. How tight he gripped your dirty, calloused hand against his pristine soft ones. 

You feel strange speaking of it, remembering it in any way. It causes your cheeks to heat and a fury to settle below your ribs. 

It is a strange feeling, yet not an entirely unwanted one. 

Your eyes train to the floor as you spill your soul, unable to keep it in once it starts pouring out. You try to keep your tone as neutral as possible– to tell her about the night as if it was a simple news story you heard from a guard. Though, you’re unsure of your success in the matter. 

A poised laugh leaves the lips of your counter, her eyes cresting into half-moons. 

“You cannot be serious right? You tell stories.” She giggles, shaking her head before continuing her assault on the floor. 

You simply shake your own. 

“It happened, I was as shocked in the moment as you seem to be now.” She lets out a small bellow of giggles once again. 

“No, no. I believe it happened entirely. I’m only talking about the fluster of your face.” She giggles, lifting her rag and shaking it for dramatic effect. You roll your eyes, cracking a small smile.

“There is no such thing.” You laugh knowing that there is. 

“Oh my heavens. Y/n, you cannot tell me you’ve grown fond of the Prince, have you?” Her words are hushed now, much more so than before. As if someone may be listening to the conversation. 

You tense in reply, unsure of the answer yourself. The closest you’ve ever felt to fondness of another man was a stable boy a few years back. Only 17 at the time, head wrapped in romance novels that you didn’t entirely understand. He was handsome and he was kind. However just as you were starting to become closer to him, he was sent away to work at another palace. 

You had not been optimistic since then.

She takes your silence as an answer in itself. Moving towards you, gripping your shoulders and hauling you to sit on your haunches. Forcing you to look at her face as she speaks. 

“You cannot be serious.” She repeats again, hoping for any sign of doubt. All she receives is bewilderment in reply, “Y/n. You can never trust Prince Kim.” 

You sigh, “I know, Anne, I–” You’re cut off with her own voice again.

“No, not in the way you’re imagining.” She sighs, letting her hands drop from your shoulders to continue scrubbing at the floor. Making work of herself as she speaks, “The other maids don’t tell you of much, do they?” 

You can’t deny it. Your seclusion within the castle walls is only partly of your own design. 

Other maids do not feel as though they can trust you, seeing as you are full property of the crown. In their eyes, you hold not a crumb of loyalty to your own kind. Few maids speak to you like Annabell does for fear the second they say anything wrong you are going to tell the world. 

You would never, though your word is worth its weight in feathers to them.

“They don’t care for me as you do… no…” You admit, continuing to clean as well. She already knew the answer, letting out an exhale before she speaks.

“Prince Kim has a pension for… debauchery… I shall say,” She flinches at her own words, yet doesn’t know a better way to put it, “The variety in which he uses pretty words to seduce young ladies to bed with him. Royalty from other lands, general’s daughters, maids. It matters not. He likes them for the night then pretends they shall never exist again.” 

Each word she speaks sends another stab into your gut. A dull pain blooming from the same places which a swirling was forming before. 

Ah. It all makes sense now. 

“Oh.”

“He has a particular fondness for the other maids, you know. Bedding them without a second thought.” A grimace forms on your friend's lips, scrubbing harder into the already shining floors, “There is no reason to form any sort of affection for that man. It will only end with his seed inside your core and a knife in your heart.” 

Yes, everything she is saying makes perfect sense. You feel almost stupid to not see it before. Maybe you just didn’t want to see it– want to think about it in any sort of fashion. But this makes much more sense than the crown prince wanting to speak to you for any other purpose. Explains why he was acting as a true gentleman to someone so much lower than him. 

However, you find that it does not take away the cavernous pit that has formed in your gut. 

“I see, I have no desire for either.” You nod your head in understanding, not sure of what else to say. “I don’t understand why he’s taken an interest in me, though.” 

She gawks, “I don’t understand why it has taken him so long to in the first place.” She shakes her head.

“Nevertheless, it doesn’t matter. Y/n, you must promise me. You will not fall for him, nor give any part of yourself to him. He is not someone that will care for you like you deserve.” She states, blue eyes piercing icicles into your own. She is determined and will not relent until you agree.

“I do not wish to. Not after hearing all of…” You make some sort of motion with your hand, “that. Anyone would be a fool to like him.” 

You nod your head while Annabell smiles in agreement. 

“Good.” 

Those are the last words you exchange with anyone for hours. The rest of the day passed by with lightning, an endless turnstile of things to take care of. A ball was to be held soon meaning the castle would be a wreck for the next few days. Too much planning, cleaning, sewing, coordination had to take place before anyone could rest. 

Honestly, you were grateful for it. A break from thinking was much needed. As is a good night’s rest. 

You sigh, already imagining how lovely it would feel to pull off your shoes for the day. Peel the cotton off your body and replace your dress with something more comfortable. 

Oo! Hopefully enough warm water will be left for a quick bath. That would be just wonderful, your muscles would be able to unfurl. The perfect thing to lull you into a glorious sleep.

Your arms stretch over your head as you finish descending the staircase into the maid hallways. Bones in your back pop from the pressure, causing a sigh to make its way from your lungs. Your nimble fingers make their way to the ribbon holding your hair in place, untying it and allowing the tresses to fall. 

Soon you would be in the maid resting quarters– your appearance would matter not there anyway. 

You send small smiles to other staff members passing you, those that have either just woken for the night or those who still have work to do. Yet in return, each one of them just stares at you with an incredulous look. Turning and whispering to their friends as if you were not still in front of them. 

You can’t help to understand why. Those around you may not have considered you a friend, but they were never rude. Always polite when need be. It has you feeling strange, some type of nervousness as you get closer and closer to the hallway extending to the maids personal rooms. 

Rounding the corner, you discover exactly why. 

His frame looks entirely out of place standing there. A perfect, pristine picture in a hallway of drab, illuminated only by the lanterns hanging on the wall. Royal blue tunic draped on his shoulders only emphasising his status. 

He looks as though he was never meant to be here. Like a mistake was made along the cobblestone walls. No, he looks as though he is meant to be among the living. Not in your dreary, windowless life. Nothing could change that. 

You stand there frozen, a deer caught in the lanturn of a hunting party. A pounding of your heart, as well as the dark swell of your gut coming back to life. Why is he here? Why the hell does he have a bouquet of flowers?!

You wish to scream, but you don’t. You have already been caught. 

His eyes look up from where he created a small pile of dirt on the floor. His face coming alight in an instant, pushing himself to full stature from where he once leaned against the wall. Long legs making their way towards you while he suddenly has the decency to hide the bouquet behind his back. 

Annabell certainly did not mention this method of Prince Kim’s seduction. You had never seen him down here before. 

“Hi.” Is all he says once he is finally face to face with you. His face bright and youthful. Excited.

It seems all formalities have been dropped in his mind, though you refuse the notion. 

“Prince Kim.” You simply reply, lowering yourself in a curtsy. 

He pays no mind, almost pretending you never did it in the first place. Instead, he simply rocks back and forth on his heels, bouncing slightly in delight. Wanting something, unable to voice it. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, hoping to end the encounter swiftly to stop all of the prying eyes leering into your being. 

“I brought you something.” His eyes do not break contact with yours once and you can see his hand twitch by his side as if it wants to reach out for something. You're glad he has the decency to hold back, so you shall do the same by pretending you never saw the flowers in the first place. 

You choose not to ask yourself why he brought you a present. It must just be a trick of seduction.

“I am honoured to accept such a thing.” You send a small smile his way, something between real and fake. It seems to make him beam. 

His arm comes out from behind, holding the flowers between both of your bodies. You look down at them, shock written across your features. 

Sure, you had noted them as flowers before. But you think these may be the prettiest ones you’ve seen in your whole life. Petals of orange, white, and purple cloud in your eyes. Stomatas filled with the sweet pollen.

Lilies. All different kinds– ones you’ve never seen before.

They’re out of season, at least you think they are. How did he get these? Why is he giving them to you? Why is he trying to get the butterflies to return? Why is he trying to make your heart explode?

“Prince Kim…” You’re not sure what to say– instead gently reaching out to feel the velvet of a petal. Staring intently at their colours, unable to pull your eyes away. 

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” His voice is a husk of a whisper, as if you’re the only two in the hallway. As if other maids are not passing, as if they are not staring at the two of you.

“Yes… I… I’m not sure what to say.” It is all so hypnotic. 

“Thank you would be a good beginning, no?” His smile is soft, a light chuckle present in the tone.

You pause, tilting your head to look up at him fully– a large, real smile donning your lips.

“Yes. Thank you.” 

You feel as if you are floating, just as you would when reading those romance books in your late teen years. Like the world has stopped moving save for the prince in front of you slowly passing the flowers into your arms. 

Your hands brush against each other and you feel his fingers twitch, tightening ever so slight. Wishing to grab onto your hand just as he had done the night before. Wishing to insect every line that traces over your fresh once more.

However, he refrains. Allowing his ringed fingers to sink themselves into his pockets.

“I was just going to have them delivered. I’m not really meant to be down here, you know,” His smile is shy, “But I didn’t know your room. That, and I wanted to see you again.” 

You look down, unable to keep the eye contact he presses you for. Prince Kim is too much for you. You don’t understand how he couldn’t be too much for anyone. 

“Oh…” You’re a flush, “Thank you for saying that.” 

“It is nothing to thank me for.” He chuckles, bangs dimming the hues of his eyes, “I’m sure I bored you with all of my ramblings.” 

He did, partly, but that was more discombobulation for the situation and a sense of tiredness creeping into your bones. You shake your head quickly.

“Of course not. I had.. Fun.” Mayhaps fun isn’t the right term, yet there is no word that exactly describes your emotions of last night, nor the ones of today.

“As did I.” His lips are tight in a smile again, feet bouncing on their heels once more. He’s nervous, wants to say something again but isn’t sure how.

You’re not sure how to feel about learning what that habit means. Not sure how to feel about what any of this means. You have not had a moment alone to truly dissect what all of it is. 

“I would love to spend the night talking to you again, if you would allow me.” You don’t think you would love anything more, yet you know you would not be able to function. Would probably make a fool of yourself, too. 

“I-I think it would be best if I were to get some rest… I had not even an hour before I had to start working last night.” 

He frowns, “That’s not good for your health…” He pauses, searching your face for any signs of distress, “Then let's talk in your room. I will only stay until you sleep.” 

You pause, air drifting back into your lungs.

Ah. Right. 

The words of your friend sink in once again, breaking you out of whatever trance he had put you under. Whatever spell he laced through both of your ears to have you singing songs of praises for him and the crown. 

He wants you as a notch in a bedpost. Nothing more. It is clear as day and you are a fool to think anything other than that. This is all just a cleverly rehearsed show. You will not fall victim like your mother. 

All royalty is the same. Use use use. Beat a dead horse until it stops coughing up any sort of reprise. 

Your posture is suddenly tense, fist gripping the flowers so tight your knuckles appear white. 

How dare he think so low of you. How dare he think he might be able to fuck you for nothing. 

“Men are not allowed in the women's private quarters.” Your voice is staunch, though it is not as if he can tell nor cares. 

If he does, he doesn’t show it. 

“Ah,” The lilt is still evident in his tone, the cat playing with the mouse, “But I am not any man, am I?” His body leans a bit closer, pulling his face parallel to your own. Smirk playing on his lips. 

Beauty is a deceptive thing, isn’t it? “When I am king I’ll make it so I can see you whenever we both desire.” Something heats in your gut at those words, yet anger quells it just as fast. 

“It is a shame that you are not King yet, then.” You nod politely in his direction, trying to excuse yourself. Yet your words only seem to excite something in his eyes, lighting a fire behind them. 

“My, I didn’t know you felt that way.” He smiles coy. A flustered sensation overcomes you as you realise the double meaning behind your words. You had made it sound like you wanted him in that way when that could not be farther from the truth.

“I do not.” You state, your voice ice. Though once again, it seems that it does not pierce him. 

“There is no reason to be so cold, Y/n.” He sing songs, tapping one of his long fingers against the side of his head. 

“I am not being cold! You are just not listening.” You sigh in exasperation. Exhaustion and annoyance make you forget yourself, causing your volume to rise just as his own does. This only seems to excite him more. 

“I have heard enough.” He giggles, boyish and what others would describe as cute. Right before you’re able to argue back once again, he cuts in with his own voice once more.

“I will leave you for now. Find a pretty place for the flowers.” 

He smiles generously at you, beginning to walk away, “Have a good night. I’ll see you soon.” 

In your shamble of a disposition, you’re left stuck there. Staring at his back as he retreats down the hallway. 

The shock of everything that had just transpired coming over you all at once. How poorly you had behaved. How you spoke to him. He could have you killed for any one of those things however instead he left you with a bouquet of flowers and a promise for another night. 

You scramble to find yourself, to move yourself from out of the eyeline of every other maid. To make your way to your room, your one sanctuary as quickly as possible. 

It is only when you’re in those walls, hard oak door shut firmly beside you that you have to remind yourself of your promise to your best friend. Remember that the prince fights his battles with words and emotions. 

Your second meeting with the man had left you even more confused than the first. Thousands of questions and emotions real through your bones at a pace your brain can’t manage to understand. Leaves you fuming, trying to form a single coherent thought as you analyse the last two nights with a ferocity unimagined. 

In your state, however, you neglect to think of the one question that should be dancing before you, held on a string just out of reach. 

Why did he know your name? 

It is apparent that since that night, Prince Kim has located which room you find habitance in. 

This morning, another letter has found itself slipped under the base of your door. They have become commonplace now– letters detailing apologies for why he was unable to visit, what he had gone about on his day, his regrets that he has not heard back from you in what feels like ages. 

He’s tried to speak to you a few times in the palace when you work. His eyes always trained on you with something you’re unable to describe when you clean nearby. 

You wish you could say it was perverse in manner, but it was nothing of the sort. 

Every once and awhile you would catch a lily pinned to his breast pocket. He would send you a secret smile whenever it caught your attention. As if it was a tale meant for only the two of you to know. As if he wanted to carry a portion of you with him.

You may be naive in saying so, nor do you have much experience in the matter, but these do not feel like the actions of a man who simply wishes to find home under your dress. These feel more personal. More extravagant than anything else. 

Nevertheless, you ignore every single advance. Annabell made you promise, and it was a promise you were intent on keeping until your dying breath. 

Put the letters away in a box, never to be responded to. Avoided looking at him whenever he was near. Rushed out of rooms when it appeared he was intent on  making his war for you.

Icing out the prince is what is best. Whatever lilies he will wilt and die and you will be able to continue on with your hatred of the Kim family as well as your blood pact with the throne. 

You only wish it was that easy.

“Y/n!! Miss Y/n!!” There is a scramble outside of the door, voices hailing for your presence. You don’t know why– you’re on wash duty. Anyone, unless they’re extraordinarily new, would know that. 

The voice grows more erratic, more panicked. As if their life depends on finding you in that very moment. The other maids in the quarters send their glaces to you, urging you to go yet not one opens their mouths. 

At least one bonus of endenturing your entire life to the palace is that you have grown in rank. More than 10 years has granted you a decent position. 

A hushed sigh slips past your lips and your hands find themselves forcing the pile of sheets into the washing tub. Your hands quickly wipe away at your apron, ridding them of any moisture before pushing open the door. 

Stepping into the hallway lined with stone you notice only a single girl. Her entire form shaking as she paces the hall– panicked. Blonde curls bouncing with every step, cheeks a fluster. 

A new recruit, indeed. Celley is the name she wears. 

She had just entered with the last batch of new maids, starting at the palace no more than 2 months ago. She was a recruit you were unsure of– not having a lick of grace or balance, nor any experience with serving. But you suppose there are many reasons maids are chosen. 

You do not like to think of them.

Her feet are suddenly clamouring over to you, noticing your presence for the first time since you’ve stepped in the hallway. Her small, shaking hands grip your shoulders, holding you with all the will she seems to possess. 

“Excuse me have you seen–” She stops herself, tiny pants pausing as her eyes go wide, “Oh my days! Miss Y/n! You must hurry!” She rushes, hand gripping your wrist as she tries to pull you away. 

Though your face twists in confusion, your feet remain firm. 

“What’s the matter?” You ask, both sympathy and concern entering your frame. You can admonish her later for her lack of manners, however now, the girl seems truly frightened. Her large steel eyes looking back at you, pleading. 

“The crown prince! He’s!” She’s out of breath once again, continuing to try and urge you on.

This time, the second the word prince is muttered, you begin to follow her pace, “He’s lost his mind! He’s going on a firing spree! Locking up anyone who tries to calm him!” 

“What? Why is that? Did something happen?” You ask hushed, urging the girl to keep her voice down. Though you both are similar in age, it is apparent who has experienced this type of thing before. 

“He got into some kind of spat with his father. His instructor was fired when he tried to continue on with their lesson.” It seems she understood your message, continuing to hurry you down the halls. 

“And what am I meant to do?” 

“I-I don’t know!” She lets out a quiet yelp, pulling you closer as you exit the maid hallways and enter the palace ones, “His personal maid is away visiting family. She said to leave everything to you if something were to happen! I-I didn’t know what else to do!” 

Damn Eleanor and everything she stands for. Why the hell did she have to bring your name into this?! Shouldn’t the head maid be called in times like this?! Not you, someone who wants nothing to do with any member of the royal family. Especially the crown prince himself. Sure, there must be rumours spreading around but you had managed nearly three weeks without speaking to him!

You let out a sigh, squaring your shoulders in an attempt to appear more confident, more put together. You will do this, and you will come out victorious. Every battle before has left you victor. What is one more?

“I understand. It will be dealt with.”

The least you can gain is the idyllic picture of the prince to be shattered forever. That would be the most ideal outcome, something to truly force him out of your heart for good. You will not fall prey to him and his earthly desires. He will not win your heart. 

At least that is what you hope. 

The throne room's doors stand before you, delicate lacings of gold worth more than your entire being etched into its surface. A glittering picture for what is sure to be a bloodbath behind its contents. 

A deep inhale of warm air fills your lungs, hand pressing against the door as you force it open. Face someone you have not wanted to see nor extinguish the flames of in nearly a month. 

He stands before you, 20 paces ahead. A broken bottle in his hand as he heaves, shoulders rising and falling with the passion of ten thousand suns. The look of murder in his eyes as he stares down at a maid, her form on the ground. Bowing with as much might as she can possess, looking for any exit possible. Few other maids stand around the room, keeping their heads low, avoiding any eye contact possible. 

Though he looks like a mad man– mayhaps a god of war himself, not a single hair is out of place on his head. He is still the picture of sovereignty. And though your breath spikes, you find that you are not afraid. 

What a strange feeling it is.

The creak of the door sends single to him, has him whipping his head to face you. Anger etched into his features, a new target befalling his sight.

You stand tall, moving towards him. You will rise to the position given to you, even if it shall mean your inevitable downfall. As long as the new staff are safe.

Only, when he looks to you, no wrath is found. No anger or deceit. The second his eyes meet your own, his expression drops along with the bottle in his hands. More glass littering the floor in its wake. 

His eyes soften, his lips turning from a sneer into a gentle frown. His shoulders automatically lower, and suddenly it appears that there is no one else in the room. His legs move automatically, carrying themselves to you with such a hurried pace you would have thought he had seen a long lost friend. 

Oddly, this scares you more than when he was angered. 

You start into a bow, “Prince Kim, I’ve come in place of–” 

His arms wrap themselves around you before you can speak another word. Pulling you in, wrapping you into his scent as you're pressed against his sturdy chest. Strong arms keep you in place as he tries to make his body become one with your own. 

His face buries itself into the crook of your neck, one hand raising to tie itself in your hair. It forces you to stay in place, stay attached to him just the way he wants you to be. Allows him to inhale, breathing in all of you. Finally delving into the scent that he has been craving.

Your eyes only widen, hands staying firm at your side in shock. Heart beginning to race, head becoming lost in the soaps that only a member of a family could possibly own. 

You’re not sure what to do. How to behave. As far as you are concerned or aware, this is something that no other has had happen before. At least not so openly. Not so brazenly in front of a myriad of other people. 

But, it seems to calm him. To placate him in a way you’re not sure anyone could explain. 

You try to make a small twisting motion with your hand, try to urge everyone else to leave while they have the chance. 

They seem to take it, exiting the room as fast as possible. 

You’re sure word of this will spread throughout the castle quickly. You hope the consequences will not be dire. 

“Prince Kim–” You begin to speak after everyone has cleared out, after he holds you for what feels like a lifetime. You can’t find it in you to want him to pull away, no matter how embarrassing this seems. 

“Shh,” He quickly silences you with a gentle press of his lips to your pulse, “Let me stay like this for a moment.” 

You are unable to move. Unable to breathe after he kisses you. War could begin in that very moment and you’re not sure you would have noticed in the slightest. You are stunned into obeying his whim as he simply inhales and exhales. 

The umber in his voice only comes after a millennia, after his shoulders have completely sagged. After all the tension is removed from his body. 

“You didn’t respond to my letters.” He still doesn’t pull away, his grip on your hair tightening a fraction. 

You pause.

“I…I didn’t know where to send them.” You lie and his hand loosens. The correct answer. 

“My study. Put them under the door to my study.” He instructs like a king would. 

You’re not sure why the tone of his voice sends shocks to your gut. Pooling into something you only find in your dreams.

“But if someone were to see them–” 

“Let them.” Mumbles in your ear to you and you alone, a growl practically spiking through his voice, “I want them to know.” 

Oh. This is new. This is definitely new. This is not the same way you felt with the stable boy years ago. This has become something entirely alienating. A completely different beast. You know that now as his baritone voice sends waves straight through your gut. 

You simply nod in reply, your mouth unwilling to say anything back. The arm around your lower back grows more firm.

“Tell me where you will put your replies.” He commands into your ear. 

“Under the door to your study.” Your reply is automatic, years of answering to the kingdom evident in your tone. 

He sighs, unfurling his fingers from your locks to gently pet the top of your head, “Good girl.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, soft as he touches you.

“Good lamb.”

You sigh, fingers deftly searching through your wardrobe for just a single pair of underwear. But once again, you turn up empty. It seems like every day that passes, another pair disappears without your knowledge. 

Perhaps one of the new girls is causing a fuss, messing up the laundry for everyone else. 

That is the only logical solution, at least. 

But logic doesn’t seem to make much sense at all anymore. You couldn’t hope to understand why few of your other belongings have come up indignant as well. 

Your favourite perfume, one of your stuffed animals, even your toothbrush! All have magically vanished from thin air over the course of the last week. 

It is too bad that you haven’t had the time to think about it, either. Preparations for the ball have been raging throughout the palace. Everyone has been on their toes, unwilling to face the wrath of the planners as they try to make everything perfect. 

You have had not one moment alone to think, either swept up in cleaning, decorating, or well… recently you and the prince have been going on walks through the garden at night. Though that doesn’t matter much. It doesn’t mean anything– just another thing he made you promise to. Claiming he wishes to spend as much time with you as he can. 

His recent fixation is trying to get you to call him by his true name. 

You would never dare, nothing is more inappropriate than such a title. It is something only his most beloved is meant to call him, and that person is certainly not you.

You try to force any thoughts of him out of your head, though it is clearly a fruitless endeavour. Especially with the dream you had the night prior. 

His hands finding themselves between your legs, touching you in a way no other has. 

You flush, quickly shaking all thoughts of the night away. 

The tea! Your tea, yes. A prescription from the doctor for this very thing.

More often than not, you wake to find a mess between your thighs. Sticky arousal between them in a perverse fashion. The region sensitive and overstimulated combined with a mess of dreams. More sexual in nature than ever before.

Embarrassed, you had turned to the only person you could trust. The palace staff’s doctor. 

She had told you it was normal– that you were simply having what she described as ‘wet-dreams’. The title alone made you feel embarrassed.

Nevertheless, she prescribed you a tea to help calm your nerves. It was meant to be passifying in nature, calming any lush desires you may have beginning to form. 

You were not sure how it functioned, however you trusted her. Found that it quelled whatever fire burned inside of your heart for the time being. 

Perhaps just a new oddity to add to your reality, you suppose. 

Finally, you find a proper set of undergarments to pull over your legs. Letting out a breath in relief now that you finally have them. 

Today is going to be busier than the last month combined– the ball is tonight. You know for a fact you will be rushed around the palace all day, fixing everything into an acute sense of perfection that only the Kim family is known for. 

You reach to spray your second favourite  perfume across your skin, only to find that the bottle has gone missing as well.

Your hairs stand on edge, a dark pit forming in your stomach.

It is all too strange for you to want to understand. 

Okay, now you’re sure Annabell must be wrong. She has to be, right? There is no other conclusion possible. 

The thoughts run through your head as you pace the small confines of your room. Thumb between your lips, biting the skin feverishly. Contemplating what it is exactly that you should do. A heavy box sitting on your bed, a letter laying next to it along with a single lily.

A month ago, you met Prince Kim in the gardens. A month ago you spoke to him all night long. A month ago he brought you flowers. He has been leaving you letters ever since. Three weeks ago he held you in his arms, made you promise to write him back. Made you promise to meet him in the gardens as many nights as you can. 

But this, you could not accept. You could not possibly think this is real. Why has he gifted you something like this?

A dress lays on your bed. The most gorgeous dress you have ever seen, in fact. Lined with crystals and gems, many layers of tulle poof from the underskirt. It must’ve cost a fortune, but it was not meant for you.  It is a dress meant for a princess, not a simple maid of the palace. Not… Not someone the prince simply wanted to bed. 

So why did it lie here, along with a lace mask and a pair of shoes. Why did it come with a note from the Prince, telling you to put it on for tonight's events? Is this why the head maid dismissed you so early?

No. You could not. You will not make a fool of yourself. You do not belong up there, dressed as a princess when you are far from the thing. That is your decision. It will be the one you stick to.

Even as hours tick past on the clock, even as you can hear the night in full swing, you stay locked in your room. Feeling the same as you did when you were a girl locked in the dungeon all those years ago. Helpless, indignant, stubborn. 

Lost in your thoughts as you try to piece together a puzzle that has several spaces missing. Feelings for the stable boy– life with him, it would have been easier than this. You’re sure of it. 

You allow yourself to imagine what life could have been like if he stayed. It would have been a cosy, peaceful. A straightforward one that didn’t leave so many questions in your head. Jungkook was always like that, spoke his mind without leaving anything to be guessed. You adored it, wished you could revel in it now. Wish you could kiss him under the cherry tree once more.

A pounding wakes you from the dream you were just beginning to weave. Loud, angry knuckles against the firm oak of your door startling you to your feet in an instant. Chills running down your spine as if your body already knew who was behind it. 

You wait too long to reply, another series of rapts following in quick succession. You’re in trouble. You’ve angered the prince in a way you’re not sure you’ll be able to find your way out of, but you have no choice. He knows your inside. You know you must face him. You must be brave.

Right before another series of knocks can echo against the walls, you finally pull the door open. 

There stands the man you knew would be there all along, sculpted like the lord had made him himself. You wish you could behold him properly, to stare at his beauty in the suit specially prepared for this night. One he asked your opinion of several times during its construction.

But you are unable to, not when his shoulders heave like a bull planning its charge. Not when his eyes are narrowed into a glare that enters your soul without consequence. Never before had you felt his anger directed at you. 

The future king would be a fearsome thing. 

“It appears you are not dead.” He states, cold and detached in a way you have never heard before. It makes you feel small, feel weak. Though by now, you know he wants an answer. He will not accept the lack of one from you anymore. 

You shift uncomfortably on your feet, “I suppose not…” 

“Then what do you suppose.” You flinch. You’re not sure.

“I– Prince Kim…” 

“Taehyung.” He interjects, though you ignore him. Only his future wife is meant to call him by that name.

“Prince Kim, I could not possibly accept this gift. You have to understand.” The way he looks at you makes you want to shrink. To appear as small as possible to placate the lion you’ve wondered into the den of. 

“I do not. You are to accept any gift I am to give you.” He is stern as if lecturing the ground beneath him. He looks massive in your tiny room, taking up much more space than you wish to grant him.

You begin to grow frustrated, annoyed. Does he have no sanity? Does he really think it is okay to play with the hearts of women so carelessly? It is disgusting. Repulsive even! You do not deserve anything like this. You begin to grow tense, grow firm like a wolf cornered. Ready to lash out with no remorse. 

That is what you are, anyway. A cornered animal with no hope to escape. 

“I won’t.” You raise your shoulders, stand taller and stare him straight in the eyes. If this will have you sent to the axe then so be it. 

He grows just as tense in reply, his lips forming a sneer as he takes a step closer towards you. 

Never before has Prince Kim been opposed like this before, you’re sure of it. The way his irises become darker is proof. 

“And why is that, lamb?” He mocks, and the fire inside of you only begins to glow brighter Of course, you’re just the lamb that's wandered into the lion's den. The lamb being prepared for meal. 

Steam clouds around your head, jaw becoming tense as you try to hold back your rage. Rage for your mother, rage for the life she was taunted into the same way the prince is trying to do to you now.

“I will not become another woman you bed and then lay waste to!” You practically shout, unable to hold back your emotions anymore. 

His nostrils flare, “Excuse me?” 

“You heard my words.” You state back, indignant, “I will not be an idiot. I will not become another woman who you use for your own pleasures!”

You hear him scoff, head turning away from you for the first time as he looks around your room. 

“You think that little of me?” His eyes make their way back to you, his face having the expression of somewhat… hurt? 

Suddenly, you’re unsure. You feel stupid all over again though you’re not entirely conscious as to why. You hurt him? How could you possibly hurt the most powerful person in the country? 

You falter in your stance, and it is obvious that he takes notice. Uses it to his advantage as he takes another step closer, makes his hand find your own. His thumb brushing soothingly over the knuckle. His hands are always so soft. 

“What else am I meant to think? I’ve heard the stories, Prince Kim.” Where once was fire lays blistering coals. Hot to the touch yet unyielding in their passion. The air in the room has changed in much the same way.

“Tell me of them.” He asks you, his voice now gentle, soft. 

It is strange, the complete change he’s had since first entering your room. Has your brain going a little haywire. Especially with the way he stares at your hands. Like they could be locked forever. 

“I…” You feel flush, embarrassed to mutter the words in front of the prince, “I’ve heard you seduce women… princesses, noblemen’s daughters, maids… the lot. Then you abandon them the next morning with your seed in their core and a knife in their heart.” 

You keep your eyes to your feet, face feeling hot by repeating the words of your friend. You refuse to look at him, you cannot take the embarrassment. 

A light chuckle leaves his lips, a hand coming up to attempt to muffle them, “Sorry, sorry.” He shakes his head, a playful glint in his eyes. You’re baring your soul to him! How dare he laugh! 

He coughs to muffle the rest of the sound, returning to the moment, “I apologise. I just had the realisation. You’re jealous of them, aren’t you lamb?” 

A mess of flutters takes up your stomach, your shoulders raising in alarm. Your lips open to try and form words, to try and deny the allegations made your way, yet you are entirely unable. 

Especially with the way he moves closer, crowds your space with such ease. Leads close to you, whispers words in your ear, voice lower than before. 

“You wish it to just be you I lay with, is that so?” You can practically hear the smile in his voice as another, more erotic chill finds its way down your spine. 

“Th-That isn’t–” You try to speak, but your voice sounds as light as air. He moves closer, arm carrying itself around your back, pulling you flush against him as he speaks sinful words. Words only for you. 

“Ah…” He sighs in relief, lips practically touching your ear once you’re finally connected to him, “You don’t like it when I go fuck your friends then come to spend my nights talking to you… writing to you… touching myself to the thought of you.” 

You cannot take it. You cannot take this, take him. Your head is spinning, clouding with the drug known as Prince Kim. Your knees feel weak, your limbs feel all too heavy. How can someone so pretty say such sinful words without a second thought. It’s too much. Far more than your poor little heart can take.

Your arms come up, press as firm as they can against his chest despite how weak they feel.

“Mmm…?” He asks in response, pulling back to look down on your face. Mock confusion spread across his features. He takes a step back, pretending to look you up and down. Like he is just playing a game of poker while all of your tells are as clear as day. 

“Or is that not what you wish?” He asks, head tilted to the side like a confused puppy, “You would like things to remain the same?” He smiles, drawing conclusions all on his own. 

He pauses, waits for you to say something, anything before continuing. But you do not, so he will keep playing this game by himself. 

“Then I shall go find someone to keep me company for the night. Mmm..” He taps his chin in contemplation, turning on his heels, meanwhile panic and dread fills every facet of your being, “What were those ones you’re friends with again? Celley? That pretty blonde? Oh, or maybe Annabell. I’m sure she would be prepared to go for a second round.” 

What? What? No, No! What is he talking about? Why is he starting to walk away?! Wait, Annabell, second time?! She has before?! 

Oh heavens, oh gods. 

“Anyway, I'll be sure to write to you after. Have a good night, dream of me.” You begin to hyperventilate as he takes one step out the door. No, he can’t leave. You don’t want him to. You don’t want him to be with anybody else. You can’t let it happen. You can’t afford such a thing! Ever! That is not where he is meant to be! 

Your body carries you before your mind does. Hand slipping out, gripping onto the back of his coat with all of the strength you can muster. Feet planted firm in your room, doing everything in your power to not let him leave.  

It is really too bad you do not see the sick smile that forms on his lips. Maybe then the pieces of the puzzle would have finally clicked in place. 

Instead he only tilts his head backwards, painting a complexion of boredom.

“N-No! I don’t want that!” You finally manage to stutter out, knuckles turning white with the strength you hold onto him. Afraid if you let go in the slightest he will pull away and disappear forever. “I don’t want you to be with other women!”

The silence that follows your confession feels a mile long. 

“Then go put on the dress.” Out of any response there could be, that certainly was not the one you were anticipating. 

“What…?” 

His chin tilts in the direction of it, urging you on, “If that is the truth, then go put on the dress.” 

“I…” You hesitate for only a moment, but scramble to motion once the prince turns to leave once again. 

You make quick paces to your bed, keeping your back to him. You feel his eyes on your back, intent on giving you no privacy to ensure you follow through on his order. 

In fact, all he does is close the door behind you. Making sure no one will be able to see in. No one will be able to watch you save for him. 

You slowly peel off the cotton of your nightgown, trying to appear brave even though his eyes are trained on your form. Even if your slip still remains on, you have never been this uncovered in front of a man before. You feel entirely bare. 

You do not look at him as you finally find your way through the tool, slipping the garment over your head with struggle, yet his face is practically predatory. 

You don’t know his plans, or what he wishes to gain. You never do. 

As the fabric settles over your hips, half of you wants to question how the size is perfect, but you refrain. Too embarrassed by everything else to even consider it an option. Your hands reach behind you to attempt to lace up the back on your own, yet another pair are already present in their place.

When did he get so close? How did he get so close without you hearing a thing? Your heartbeat must be the only sound in your ears, that must be it. 

His fingers work down your spine, tightening the dress so it fits you perfectly. Tying it off with skill you did not know he had. You feel his breath on the back of your neck. A fire begins to grow in your core. 

“I was going to present you to my father tonight.” He admits, placing a gentle kiss to the base of your neck, “The ball was meant to find my bride.” 

“Oh.” Those are the only words you can say when he is so close, arms enclosing around your waist. Pulling your back flush with his chest. 

Only words you can manage at the revelation.

“Imagine his disappointment, more so my own when the girl I had been speaking to him about did not show.” He grunts, almost as if it hurt him. Guiding your body to stand in front of the full mirror in your room. Asking– telling you to look at yourself. 

The sight is strange, yet incredible. The crown prince of the entire nation standing in your bedroom, in the maids quarters. Surrounded by squalor and chaos. Arms wrapped around a maid dressed as if she could be a queen. 

You look up at him to the best of your ability, regret plastered across your features, “Prince Kim–” 

“Taehyung.” 

“--I’m so sorry.” He does not look you in the eyes. They stay trained ahead, not straying once from the mirror. One hand rubbing small circles into the fabric covering your stomach, the other sliding to your waist.

He touches you without care, without reason. Feeling you against him for all that it is worth. 

“Actions have consequences, that is all. They can come later.” He states plainly, “For now I just wish to indulge in you.”

He brings his face down, placing it right next to yours. His hand rises, making your chin face the mirror as well. 

He forces you to make eye contact with him through it, forces you to understand each of his words clearly. 

“You’ll let me do that, won’t you?” 

You take a deep breath, gulping down all the air you can manage. You don’t think you’ve wanted anything more. 

With no more than a nod, his lips are on yours. 

Spinning you around, pressing your back against the mirror. His hands cupping your cheeks with such intensity you fear they may become etched into your skin forever. Keeping your lips closed against his own. 

His body cages you in, pressing entirely against you. Forming against you in perfect harmony, feeling two souls become one. Feeling each other fully for the first time– no pretence or public eye in the way to stop it. 

His teeth nip at your lower lip, biting in a way that has you opening them in pain. He takes the opportunity to lick his way inside, somehow pushing even closer to your body. 

Something hard presses against you and the discovery has your knees wishing to collapse. 

The prince can’t possibly be this big. He simply can’t.

The kiss has you reeling, unsure of anything. Unsure of what to do at all. It is nothing like your first kiss under the cherry tree with Jungkook. That was soft and sweet, docile as two people discover something new.

This, this is nothing of the sort. It is hungry. It is a beast that has been starved, finally getting its first meal. It is intoxicating. It is needy and desperate in a way that has your fingers trying to press themselves even deeper into the glass. It has your breath being robbed. Your lifeforce wilts away to satisfy only the prince. 

The groan he lets out as you finally give into him, finally allow him to take control of the kiss as arousal pools in your gut. It is one of the most deadly siren’s calls you think you’ve ever heard. One that would have any woman throwing themselves overboard for just a taste. 

“Finally,” He grunts, pulling no more than a millilitre away from your lips, wetness still connecting them, “My whole life I’ve been waiting for you.” He mumbles, hungrily connecting his mouth back to your own. 

Before you know it, you’re lost in the man once again. Allowing him to move you, to guide you to your bed without withdrawing from you once. Tangling your fingers into his hair, trying to make sure he doesn’t pull away. Making you drunk off of his taste, off of him. 

When he kisses you like this, you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to live without him. 

Your knees hit the frame of your bed and all of a sudden you're falling backwards onto its plush lining. Panting, trying to regain some of the air he stole from you.

For the first time you’re able to look up at him, to discover the mess that he has become. Cheeks red, lips swollen. Eyes dark and twisted with lust. Hair ruffled messily from where your fingers laid. Shoulders rising and falling with effort as he catches his breath as well. 

He looks gorgeous and you can’t help yourself hoping this will be only a sight for you forever. 

He leans down, pecking your lips once more, “I couldn’t stop myself from imagining this. Since the moment I placed an order for your dress.” 

He huffs, dropping to his knees in front of you. You sit up on your elbows, face twisted into confusion as you look down at him. 

God. It is too dangerous to look at him right now. You know that as another wave of heat runs straight to your core.

“Pushing up the future queen's skirt.” He groans, hands gaining purchase on your hips, pulling you down so your waist sits at the edge of the bed, “Letting myself have a taste of her while everyone else at the party danced.” 

O-Oh. Oh. He sees you as, oh god. 

His fingers bunch in the material of your skirt, drawing in a shaky inhale as he holds onto any drop of sanity left. 

When he sees no hesitation from you, he slowly begins to push the material up your legs. Eyes trained on your own, looking to you for any sign of discomfort. 

“Have her come undone on my tongue while no else was the wiser.” He groans as he finally comes face to face with your panty covered core. 

Your brain moves at a snail's pace, trying to keep up with every tiny movement the prince makes. Trying to process his words while your head becomes fuzzy with your own arousal. 

You feel like mush, so pliable in his grip.

His large hands slowly begin to part your thighs, to look at what he has been craving for so long when your brain catches up with you, embarrassment overcoming your being. 

“Y-You can’t! I-it is dirty to do such a thing.” At least, that is what you had been taught. Though, the look in his eyes and the growl from his throat tells you the opposite.

“You could never be dirty. No part of you could ever be.” The sound he lets out is more akin to an animal than anything else, and suddenly you feel like a schoolgirl. Flustered and embarrassed beyond anything else. 

The muscles of your thighs untense, the look on your face blushed and biting. 

“You will let me?” He asks again, and despite your embarrassment, you nod. He is going to be king… his word is rule afterall. He wishes it, so it will happen. You could not be more pleased to oblige. 

His grip on your thighs is more firm than before, blunt nails digging into soft flesh as he pries your legs apart. He lets a groan resonate from the back of his throat at the sight. Panties sticking to your center, wetness pooling just behind causing the material to almost become transparent before him. 

You did not know it was possible for a man to have such an effect on you. 

Without a second thought, he pushes the material down your thighs. His tongue licking a long stripe up your cunt, savouring the flavour for every cent it is worth. 

He moans at the taste, not wasting a second before he dives back in. Lapping against you like it is his last meal. 

A mewl leaves your lips, too many feelings crossing you at once for any of them to be worth anything. 

Embarrassment, shame, fear all vanish the moment his lips wrap around your clit, sucking against the small bundle of nerves in a manner that has your back arching against the bed. Fingertips digging into the sheets to find a second lease on life. 

You try to look down at him, to find him between all of your small pants of pleasure, however he is gone. Disappearing until the layers of fabric while he brings you sensations you never thought were possible. 

His tongue moves like it is made to pleasure only you. Taking turns flicking your clit to lowering into your center. Licking up any bit of arousal he can make out. Trailing up once again to press flat against the bundle of nerves.

All of it has your legs kicking, your breath melting. 

He is not quiet either, letting you know exactly how much he adores this. Adores the feeling of your thighs wrapped tight around his head. Adores every little sound and reaction you have to give him. Adores the taste of you on his tongue. It was only meant for him.

It feels like he has been wishing to do this far longer than you would ever know. Consuming you whole from the inside out. Causing you to become addicted, to desire him just as much as he carnally craves you.

His nails dig into the flesh of your thighs as your hips begin to rock against his face, seeking out every ounce of pleasure that he is willing to give you. Your adorable mewls and whines grow louder, peaking every time he sucks on your clit. 

A coil has begun to form in your gut, feeling as though it could snap at any second. You wish you could see him, to look at his face and see the crazed gleam in his eyes. Observe the exact look on his face as he licks your cunt. 

You try to picture it. Try to imagine the way he would look up at you from between your legs. The dark umber his eyes would become, the gentle circles he would rub into your thigh as you finally make eye contact. 

Your walls clench around his tongue, sending a new waves of whines out of your mouth. He somehow moves faster, more precisely with every movement. Like he is able to hone in on the exact things that have your thighs quivering. 

His tongue moves up, takes your small, worn clit into his mouth. Alternating between sucking against it, flicking at it, and pressing against it firm with the flat of his tongue. 

Without warning, nor any reprise, one of his thick fingers is thrust into your wet heat. Filling you in a way you have never been able to do to yourself. Stretching you. And all of a sudden, you’re flying off the edge of a precipice.

“Prince Kim!” Your back arches off of the bed, head thrown back against the mattress as you let out a moan. Your hips jolt, cunt squeezing around his fingers, heels digging into the floor as you come undone before him. 

He works you through it with ease and grace, finger slowly thrusting in and out. Tongue firmly planted against your clit to ride you through your high. 

It would not be your last of the night. He must be gentle. 

Slowly, you relax against the bed, chest heaving from exertion. He pulls away from you, standing to full height before leaning over your shaking form. 

Your arousal coats his face, a sheen from his lips and chin evident against the soft yellow glow of the room. He looks down at you, concern and adoration written across his features. Though in his eyes, it appears that the beast has yet to be quelled. 

He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. You taste yourself against them. 

“You are delicious. I wish to eat you every night until I die.” He mumbles against your lips, his knee sliding between your legs. Muscle pressing against your swollen cunt. 

You try to flinch away, yet the hand on your hip keeps you in place. 

He will not have you running away. 

Not now. 

Your cheeks flush at his words, wide eyes looking up at him like he is all that matters. 

He is. 

He presses his knee further against your pussy while his lips trail down the column of your neck. Urging you towards the headboard with no words spoken until your head is against the pillows. 

Your arms wind their way around his neck, keeping him in place, “I-if we were married, I would let you.” You manage to speak, your voice shaky.

He only smiles in reply. Fingers digging deeper into your waist as if he is holding himself back.

“Then we shall call this practice for our wedding night.” He smiles, sitting back on his heels. 

Marriage, wedding night. You allow the thought to ghost through your mind, willing it to be reality. 

He smiles down at you, taking note in the way you seem to gleam at the idea. A small chuckle leaves his lips, you really are too cute for your own good. 

His voice is no more than a whisper, forcing you to stay enrapt, “You will let me, right?” He asks, eyes glancing down to where his pants strain against his hips, “I wish to make love to my future wife.”

Your mouth practically waters at the sight, his hard cock pressed taught against the expensive material. You swear there may even be a wet spot where his cum has leaked through. 

Your pussy clenches, wanting nothing more for him to find his way inside. For him to claim you for himself. Destroy you so no other man can have you in the same way.

You struggle against yourself for no more than a moment, but the way his hand reaches down, grips at his cock. Brushes his thumb over the surface has you moaning in want. 

“Please.” 

He smiles, the motion following swift. All at once his hands unbutton his pants, pushing the material down his thighs just enough for his cock to spring free. He groans at the feeling, thick length hitting his stomach. Pretty pre-cum dripping down the side.

Your eyes go wide. If you imagined him to be large before, seeing it now looked impossible. He is thick, long. Far too big to ever hope to fit inside of you. 

But the desperate groan in his voice, the hungry look in his eyes only has you spreading your legs. Wishing nothing more than for him to destroy you.

One hand wraps around the base as he moves closer, the other forcing the skirt of your dress as high as it will allow. He makes space for himself in between your thighs, slotting himself in. Ready to do what he has been waiting years for. 

Not yet.

He sees the hesitation in your eyes, the worry. So he leans down, planting a gentle, soothing kiss to your lips. One filled with years of time behind it. 

He knows he must be careful with you. Knows all of his patience will have been worth it when he is finally able to take your virginity. 

“Will it hurt?” You as quietly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep him close. You find comfort in him. Find a sense of safety within his eyes. 

He nods in response, “Only for a little while, I promise.” He mumbles against your lips, placing a soft kiss against them once more. 

He slowly rubs the fat head between your folds, coating himself in your arousal. Your hips buck slightly in response, and he can’t help but smirk. 

So sensitive. So ready for him. 

As much as he wants to be rough, he can’t. He can’t scare you away just yet. 

He looks into your eyes once more, “Ready?” He asks, giving you one final chance to back out. You only nod your head, pulling him close, hiding your face in his neck. 

His head catches on your opening with the final drag of his length through your lips. His hands practically shake in excitement, as he guides himself inside. Letting go only once the tip is buried within your walls. 

He feels your teeth sink into his coat, your body burning with the stretch of him. He only has the first inch inside, yet you think it is more than you could possibly take. 

A choked cry leaves your lips as he continues to slowly thrust inside. Your arms cling to him as tight as possible. Tears prick in the corner of your eyes as he fills you, forming your entire body just around him. Just around his cock. 

He pauses only once half of his cock is buried in your needy cunt. You feel his hand come up to caress your cheek, to bring you back down to reality from the pain you feel digging at your core. Trying to bring you some sense of comfort. 

You pull back from his shoulder to look him in the eyes, expecting to see them soft. Filled with concern. Though there is nothing of the sort there. 

Behind his bangs is only the look of pure insanity. 

Though he tries to be compassionate, he really does.

“Are you doing okay?” His voice is strangled, coming out in only desperate cracks. He shakes, wanting nothing more than to fuck himself inside. Fuck himself deeper and deeper, until your cunt is shaped for his cock alone.

But he holds restraint. Just enough.

The way he looks at you, the way he speaks has a wave of pleasure rushing through your  skin. Your walls clamp around him, tightening even more. 

He is falling apart before you, because of you. 

He has gone mad because of you.

The feeling only makes you want to urge him on. See just how far the prince can fall.

You nod your head, looking at him with all the affections in the world, “Don’t stop.” 

He groans at your words, mind losing itself as he snaps his hips forward, forcing his cock inside until his hips are firm against your own. Teeth digging into the fragile skin of your neck.

You cry out in pain, your walls squeezing around him in shock. Pain coursing through your entire system as you are filled to the brim. Walls stretched as wide as humanly possible. The head of cock so deep inside you swear you can feel it in your lungs. 

“Shit.” He groans, mouth falling open, “This pretty thing is wrapped around me so tight, lamb. So fucking tight I can’t think.” 

He slowly tries to move his hips, though you only shout in response. Your legs wrap around his back, doing their utmost to keep him in place.

“Hurts!” You whine, shaking your head quickly. 

Fucking hell. What is the point of a pussy as sweet as your own if he can’t use it properly?

His hand moves between your legs, growl of impatience slipping past his lips as his fingers find your clit. They work with urgency, with need. Rubbing tight circles into it, trying to get you to feel the same pleasure he does.

You whine, overstimulated. Shots fired in all directions leaving you messy and confused. 

With every circle, a mewl sounds from your throat. Slowly your legs behind him loosen, the pain from before mixing with pleasure to become something wonderful. Something that has you whimpering for him to not stop. 

“See?” He grunts, slowly slipping out of your heat until only the tip remains, “We were made for each other.” 

He forces his cock back inside, fucking you open just for him. Only ever for him. 

Your nails dig into his back, heels digging into the mattress as you moan for him. As your cunt becomes addicted to the feeling of him filling you so perfectly. Addicted to everything he has to offer.

He moves too fast, too hard for you to even hope to keep up with. Hips pistoning into you, forcing you to take everything he has to give and more. Forcing you to be the perfect little doll for him, give him all the pleasure he can want and more. White mixing with red around the base of his cock.

Your back arches off the mattress to try and get closer to him, to try and keep up with him in any hope of the sentiment. Hips trying their best to keep him as close and as deep as possible, knowing they crave one thing and one thing alone.

“Prince Kim!” You moan, yet he growls in response. A sharp slap to your thigh sounds throughout the room as his hips pause, fingers removing themselves from your clit. 

“That isn’t my name to you anymore.” His voice is low, menacing in your ear. One more poke of the bear and you will be punished. “Tae–Hyung.” 

He emphasises the words with a sharp thrust of his hips, one that brushes against the bundle inside of you. One that leaves you crying out for him. Clinging on to him. 

“Say it.” He grunts, animalistic and desperate. Yet you’re too lost in yourself to realise how debauched he’s become. Looking less and less like a man, more like a demon come to lay waste to your soul. 

That is close enough to the truth, anyway.

“Say it until it becomes the only word you know. Every question I ask, every time I fuck myself into this sweet little cunt. Your only reply should be my name.” He grabs your chin, forcing you to stare at him. 

Your fucked out little features as you bob your head in compliance.

“I-I” You swallow, trying to understand his words as he pounds away at your core, “I understand!” 

He smiles, almost proud of the work he has done today.

His hips only move impossibly faster, impossibly harder in a way that has that knot in your gut tightening once more. 

“We’ll start simple then. What is my name?” He asks, angling his hips to press against your sweet spot with ever slight movement. Breathe panting, his mind falling deeper and deeper into the thralls of your body. 

“P-Prin–” You stop yourself, a pinch coming down on your skin, “Taehyung!” 

He groans, almost coming undone as he hears your name fall from your  lips for the very first time. The pretty sound your voice makes with every letter. 

It could be the only thing he hears for the rest of his life.

“Who are you going to marry?” 

You whine, your head thrashing around slightly. He smiles. You must really enjoy the idea of that, huh?

“T-Taehyung!” You manage to stutter out again, feeling your release coming closer and closer as the seconds pass by. 

“Who is the man you have fallen for?” The answer to the question is easy, especially when he is fucking into you like you’re the only woman that matters. Nothing matters except for him. 

“Taehyung!” Your brain is too fuzzy to process anything else. Anything other than the way his cock fills you. Anything other than the one word he told you is your gospel. 

“Who is the boy that kissed you under the cherry tree?” You don’t even know anymore. 

Does any man exist beside Taehyung anyway? You doubt it.

“Taehyung!” He smiles into your neck. 

“Who was the boy that was going to have you killed? That saved your life?” His words don’t process through your ears, yet you know what you are meant to say anyway.

“Taehyung!” He groans, his hips stuttering, losing their pace ever so slightly. 

“Who do you belong to?” 

“Taehyung!” You whine, your thighs shaking. The coil so tight you think you may just die if it doesn’t come undone in this very moment. 

His breath is quiet, only a rough whisper in your ear, “Cum.” 

Just as your king commands, you fall apart around him. White dots in the corner of your eyes as you clamp down around him, your legs pulling him close. A cry of his name leaving your lungs as if it is the very air you breathe. 

You feel him paint the inside of your walls white, his hips stuttering– fucking himself as deep into you as he could possibly manage. If you had any sense left in your little head you would have told him to pull out, yet your brain is so high. Filled with pleasure that only Taehyung can provide. 

Waves of arousal crash around you as he slows his hips, ensuring that you ride out your orgasm to its fullest before pulling away. You wish he could stay buried inside of you, just like that. Yet you doubt that would be very wise. 

“Was that good for you, little lamb?” He asks, slowly helping you into a sit. You’re not sure how to properly answer– mouth feeling dry. Your head has not yet come crashing back down, though that is probably a good thing. 

Facing reality is too scary right now. Especially when Taehyung is so warm. So caring as he removes your dress. Slips your nightgown back over your soiled body. 

“Very…” You nod, unable to take your eyes off of him as he moves around the bed. Tucking himself back into his pants, removing his shirt and dress-coat. Placing them over the back of a chair. Neatly hanging the dress on a hook, taking care that it is not damaged in any way.

Your arms find themselves reaching out to him, trying to pull him closer to you. He smiles once he takes notice.

“Would you like me to stay the night?” It is clear he was already planning on it, but hearing the words make you smile oh-so bright. 

“Yes, please.” You nod quickly, eyes already feeling tired. You did not know how he had so much energy, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Right now he is meant to be in your bed, arms around you. In fact, you become annoyed that he isn’t already. 

“Alright.” He smiles, slipping next to your form. Wrapping his arms around you, pulling you as close as possible.

You feel so safe. So warm with him. So protected that you can’t stop yourself from falling asleep.

“Goodnight my lamb.”

The Kim Empire. 

His home, his family, his livelihood all wrapped up in those three little words.

Yet, the only thoughts that seem to brandish his mind since the young age of 15 are about you. 

When you first stumbled in front of him, carrying a tray of tea. Spilling it all over his shoes. That quick curse that left your lips before looking up at him. The wide, doelike vision you had once recognition had set in. One the realisation of error set into your bones.

He will never forget the way his heart began to race in that very moment. The way he felt a cloth of sickness overcome his whole body at the mere sight of you. Looking so serendipitous below him.

At first he thought it was hate, how silly he had been back then. Ah, the way he sent you to be killed was just funny to him now. He is grateful he talked to his mother before your execution date. Spilling his soul to her, detailing how he could not seem to remove you from his brain.

Ah, he was lucky he managed to get the letter to the executioner in time. What a pity that would be if he couldn’t. Then he wouldn’t have been able to lay next to you now. Wouldn’t be able to play with your hair, caress you like he pleases. 

It is truly too bad that was not his only trial on the road towards you. It was really a pity he had to send Jungkook away. Taehyung quite liked the kid. He was fun to play with and wouldn’t shy away from his games. 

But he just had to try and seduce you. Poor thing. You really were too innocent at the time. More than eager to kiss him for no reason. To give him even a peace of your heart that was meant for Taehyung alone.

He remembers as clear as day, the rage he felt as he watched your soft lips press against another mans. How terribly he wanted to go out and strike Jungkook with a sword. Of course he didn’t though, that would have scared you away. He would have hated that.

He thanks god every day he was really your first kiss, even if you didn’t know it. 

Patiences was the hardest battle of all, and he will admit, he has faltered a few times over the years. Kisses stolen while you sleep, a few of your belongings robbed to keep him satiated. Mayhaps a few trips to your room in the night. 

But who could blame him? He was a man in love. There was nothing that could stop him when he was so hungry for you. 

Ah, and then of course his father. He wanted to separate your love as well. A maid could never possibly be suited to be queen, blah blah. He doesn’t care. And at least that fight allowed him to hug you for the first time. 

God. You felt so perfect in his arms, then and now. You have always been meant for this. Meant for him.

If his father plans to keep standing in the way, he will simply have to remove him from the equation. His bonds to the man are as thick as water. He cares more for you than he possibly could anyone else.

You’ve belonged to him since you were born, anyway. If a maid becomes pregnant while working for the castle, her child becomes property of the state. Of the crown. Of him. 

It only makes sense that you are meant to be with him until death. It is the path lined for you. Your fate since birth. 

He knows it as his delicate fingers trace over the small patches of blood dirtying the sheets. Evidence of the hours before, of your virginity robbed. Of your promises to him.

You are bound to him by blood after all.

© all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2024 ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate.

[dcxdpdabbles]

What if Danny went to school with Damian? I’m just imagining them going feral together after a little while, because you know that Danny picks up on Damian’s liminal vibes.

I mostly just want Damien to bring Danny home, and for Bruce to do the headcount thing that Mr. Weasley needed to do in Harry Potter. Just like ‘I could’ve sworn I didn’t have this many this morning’

Damian made a friend.

It shouldn't be as big a deal as his brothers were making it out to be but even he knew that he didn't have the best track record on friendships. It was hard to get along great with the kids in his school.

A lot of them were too carefree, to be unburdened by the things he saw and did on a battlefield and he couldn't stand how loud and messy they all were.

Damian preferred to sit by himself with some headphones in and draw whenever he could get the chance. According to the other children that made him an "emo loser" and a lot of them took great joy in flinging insults and taunts at him.

He never even spoken to them but for some reason, the general populace of Gotham Acadamy deemed him a great target for their scorn. Sometimes Damian wondered if he deserved their taunts, flung paper and spitballs.

If his time in the Leauge of Shadows truly made him broken and wrong as his classmates claimed.

It wasn't like Damian couldn't defend himself. He could have all of them begging for mercy within a minute but to do so would put at risk his Robin identity.

Which then would put his family at risk. Damian would never allow those under his protection to be harmed. So even if it hurt his dignity he allowed some of the more physical bullies to get a few hits in and ducked his head when he walked through the hallways.

His other classmates saw, but no one chose to speak up for Damian Wayne otherwise known as Bruce Wayne's accident on travel and dirty secret. He was the freak. The weirdo. They knew that if they got involved, even if they didn't agree with it, then they would be targeted.

He never expected anyone to step in whenever his bullies found him.

But then again, he came to learn that Daniel Fenton wasn't just anyone. His friend had a heart of gold with a righteous rage that was hardly contained in his smaller body.

It had been three days since Daniel had been transferred to Gotham Acadamy, during their free period. The youngest Wayne had been minding his own business, eating the vegetarian meal prepared by Alfred and drawing a little in his sketchbook when he was surrounded.

Damian had been pushed up against a wall by the meaty hands of the snickering soccer team. They were gripping his shirt collar and Damian had been preparing for a punch in the face when Daniel had appeared out of nowhere.

"Hands!" Danny had shouted pointing at Derek, the captain of the team with a scowl. He was the one who was going to beat Damian up while his friends held Wayne in place. "That's a penalty kick buddy!"

And then Danny kicked Eric- a teenager who was at least a head taller than him- right between the legs. Danny threw his whole body weight into that kick and the captain proved it by choking out a wheeze and falling to the ground.

Before his friends could react, Danny was upon them swinging his lunch tray like a battering ram.

Needless to say, the rest of the soccer team was not impressed, especially the goalie. They abandoned Damian to fight against Danny, who well seemed like he knew his way in a fight, was nowhere near Damian's level of training.

Good instincts but he lacked a solid foundation.

Danny was able to fight off the seven members of the soccer team (the rest didn't really hang out with them during breaks) but he had a lot of wounds as a result.

"Run dude!" Danny had shouted at him, putting himself between the team and Damian. His lip had been busted, he had a black eye and a nosebleed but Danny didn't seem to care. "I'll hold them off!"

Damian was ashamed to admit that he just stood there in shock at the new transfer's behavior. Daniel....was attempting to rescue him. Why?

He hadn't even known Daniel at the time.

The teachers arrived then, dragging everyone to the principal office where Damian was accused of starting the fight and Danny was threatened with being expelled only three days into his move. The soccer team had been smug, while the principal who Damian believed disliked him for his Middle Eastern Blood, seemed to jump at the fact he could smear Damian's name.

Daniel was on scholarship which did not help his chances at all in a school that had legacies.

His father had been away on a mission, so the school had been forced to phone Richard instead. When his brother arrived the soccer team's parents had been throwing a fit about all the hits Daniel had gotten in.

"Mr. Wayne shouldn't have agitated them and Mr. Fenton jumped in unprovoked. ," The Principal said staring Richard down when his brother had loudly demanded to know what happened.

"But he didn't" Daniel cut in. His guardians hadn't arrived yet and had remained mostly silent by the way. The group of parents and teenagers turn to him. "They were the ones to attack Wayne. I hit them unprovoked though. That part is true. They didn't do anything to me, but I can't stand cowards that attack in groups."

"I guess you have proof of this?" Mrs. Skeel sneered. She was Eric's mother and often brides her son out of problems.

"I have a body cam," Daniel reveals pulling out a miniature camera from his tie. He smiles at the dumbfounded stares his actions cause."Recorded the whole thing."

"Can I see the footage?" Richard requested, which Daniel easily handed over. They played it on the Principal's computer and there the camera shows Daniel sitting in the tree that Damian had chosen to sit under. The video captures Daniel watching him up until the soccer team arrives, and their innocence is proven.

Daniel didn't seem to care that he made enemies with almost everyone in that room as Richard quickly took control of the meeting with the evidence. Damian thinks he may not have to worry too much now that the staff were aware that Waynes would and could cut their funding.

Not only that, but the parents were also weary of angering Father. None of this meant that Daniel was safe so Damian took it upon himself to never let the new student be alone for too long.

As a means to protect him.

It wasn't until he realized two months later that school had gone for a dull meaningless pass time to laughter and enjoyment because of Daniel. They walked to class, they shared notes, they passed notes, they watched videos, Daniel chattered about everything and anything and they sent each other funny memes.

Daniel was vastly different from Damian but it didn't seem to bother him. If anything their differences were what made them so close. Daniel claimed that his two best friends back in his old school were vastly different in interest and personalities too.

He had made a friend.

Daniel was his friend.

A friend who didn't seem to mind when he would go quiet to draw or medicate. A friend who didn't need an explanation or justification for his eating habits. A friend he was able to vent about his troubles to and lend an ear to when Daniel faced his own woes.

A person who laughed at all his dark jokes, regardless of how much death was in them. Someone who seemed almost as... what did Todd call him? Feral? as Damian was.

Damian had chosen to invite Daniel to a sleepover. His very first ever sleepover with people from school- Jon held the crown for being the first friend to have a sleepover with him- and he has been ever so excited.

It's childish for someone of his age to show such anticipation for something so small but he couldn't help himself. Something about Daniel was captivating. Almost otherworldly so.

There was something about him that made all of Damian sense buzz but not in a bad way. He isn't sure what it is, but he is getting tired of Drake's and Richard's knowing smirks.

He detested being left out of the loop.

The doorbell rings. Todd makes the motion to stand up, which would be a disaster. He does not want Daniel- a person who swears in old classic book titles to meet his one brother who adores said books and reads them for fun.

Damian flings himself over the couch, using Todd as board. He ignores the shout of rage that his action causes and the hollaring laughter of the rest of Father's brood.

He clears the door before any of the other Wayne members and breaks out into a run. Just in case any of them got the idea of trying to meet Daniel before Damian can control the situation in which it happenes.

Also, he wanted to see Daniel. Spring break felt like an eternity now that he couldn't see his friend every day. He would like to have met up with him since the break started but Daniel's guardian had planned a trip and they only just returned.

He had yet to meet Daniel's uncle but heard a lot of Mr.Clockwork from the teenager. Damian was still unsure if he liked the man. He seemed far too aloof when it came to Daniel.

"Geez Dami, relax! Your boy toy isn't going anywhere!" Brown cackles

"Give him a big smooch!" Drake adds, his laughter echoing Brown's

I will deal with them later. Damian swears, fixing his hair from where it had fallen out during his run. He checks his reflection in the mirror by the doorway. He wants to look good for his first ever school friend's sleepover.

Damian had picked his best outfit, wearing his favorite jeans and black button-down. He accessorized with silver rings and chains, grateful Jon had been willing to facetime to give him the modern teenager stamp approval.

Once he is satisfied that his appearance is at its utmost best, he opens the door.

"Hi, Dami!" Daniel chirps. He is wearing a faded pair of jeans and a white shirt with a red dot in the middle. It's nowhere near Damian's stylish and well-put-together often, and yet he looks as beautiful as a grace nymph outside the school uniform.

Damian mind goes blank for only a second before he nods. "Daniel.Welcome. This is Wayne Manor. I live here for I am a Wayne."

For I am a Wayne!? Damian thinks to himself in horror unsure why those words hand tumbled out of his mouth. A wave of shame washes over him as Daniel curiously looks around with that pleased little half smile on his lips.

Daniel is always half smiling as if he heard a joke only he was privy to.

"This place is cool!" Daniels says spinning around to face him and missing Father stumbling out of the living room. Damian is unsure why the man had return so soon, as he thought Batman would be off-world for another week at the least with Flash.

His father looked dead on his feet, eyes half open as he walked up to Daniel and yanked him into a hug!?

"Oh," Daniel says pressed up to Father's chest. "Hello?"

"Hi, son." Father mutters. He squints down at his friend with bloodshot eyes. " Did you get smaller Timmy?"

"Father!" Damian shouts outraged while the rest of his so-called siblings come spilling out of the other sitting room.

"Bruce!" Drake shouts a wide grin on his face. "I'm over here."

"Wha-? Then who is this?" Father blinks slowly, one eye closing before the other, as he tilts his head. He has yet to realese Daniel, though his part his friend seems content with the embrace seeing as he had returned the gesture. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine.....ten? Do I have ten children?"

"You only have nine" Thomas calls out helpfully. Father nods, then counts again, pointing one finger at the people in the room

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine" He looks down pointing at Daniel. "Ten. Why are there ten of you?"

"That's a son-in-law, old man"

"No. I could have sworn none of my children are married......Dick you're not married are you?"

"Not yet B."

"Jason?"

"Trying to find a finger to put a ring on it Old man."

"Cassandra?"

"No thank you."

"Tim?"

"Ew."

Daniel giggled at Drake's response and Damian felt the sudden urge to bury a knife in Drake's side.

"Steph?"

"Nah."

"Duke?"

"I'm too young B."

"Cullen?"

"I can't even get a date, Bruce"

"Harper?"

"Inability to get dates run in the Row family tree."

Father nodded then. "Good none of my children-"

"What about Dami?" Daniel asks with a wide grin. Both his friend and Father turn to stare at him. Damian suddenly feels himself sweating through his shirt.

"Damian? You aren't married?

"Of course not!" He denies it loudly and faces an unconformable red. Daniel cackles like the devil he is.

Father meanwhile continues to hug Daniel while muttering. "Then where did ten come from? Alfred? Why are there ten children in my house?"

"Master Bruce if you do not let that young man go and go see Dr.Thompkins for that concussion I swear, heads will roll!"

Damian is grateful that once again Alfred seems to be the only one with a brain in this manner.

"I like it here," Daniel proclaims watching the butler drag away his confused father. Damian is utterly unprepared for the look that his friend shoots him from under his eyelashes, and he almost trips over his own two feet as he says. "Show me to your room?"

"I...of course! This way! I live here!" Curses his voice cracked. It ended in a squeak! He, Damian Wayne son of the Bat and Demon, made a fool of himself by squeaking!

"This is better than a daytime tv sitcom." Row- the male one- snickers from the stairway and Damian flips him off as he passes by with Daniel.

[insert-content]

a summar(ule)y of 196 culture

since the tumblr veterans have been kind enough to introduce us newbies to their site and culture, i think it is only fair that we explain the culture of our glorious former home to any tumblr users who might be interested in the #196 tag. keep in mind, all these things are based on my perspective of the situation.

first of all, some general information (that you might’ve already heard):

196 (r/196 on reddit) was a subreddit with only one (official) rule; "post before you leave." it was mainly a meme/shitposting sub, but it cultivated a large queer and left-leaning community. in protest of the recent api chances in reddit, 196 has shut down indefinitely until reddit reverts these changes.

now for some culture/references that you might come across

spronkus kronkus:

spronkus is this yellow, rabbit-like creature.

they were the mascot of our subreddit. their appearance can vary from images to image, but as far as i’m aware, their full outfit consists of a bandanna in the colours of the trans flag around their neck, a gun labelled as such (other wise you obviously wouldn’t know what you’re looking at), and an axe also coloured like the trans flag.

r/place:

this is a rare event on reddit where the entire website gets a huge white canvas and can start creating pixel art on it. 196 participated by collaboratively creating our mascot, spronkus with "196!" written next to them.

this version of the pixel art was recreated by me as i couldn't find a nice image of it. there were some changes between the first version and the end result, so this might not be exactly how it looked in the end

post titles/"rule":

reddit forces it's users to title every post they make. as most of the posts on 196 spoke for themselves, many user instead titled their posts "rule", to indicate that they followed the subreddit's only rule. some people also tried to make puns with the word or tried to include it in words that shared some letters (example: wor(ule)d).

anarcho-stripperism:

as the amount of cropped porn jokingly posted to the subreddit increased, the moderators decided that porn would be banned from the sub, with one exception: anarcho-stripperism. she made food fucking videos, in which she jokingly tested the fuckability of different food items (fruits, pasta, etc.)

bigotry showcase:

bigotry showcase was a post flair (basically the reddit equivalent of tags) on the subreddit and was later restricted to only be used on saturdays. under this flair people posted instances of different forms of bigotry to make fun it.

eating babies/hungryposting:

at some point, the subreddit started to pretend to like eating babies, which started a variety of memes regarding the subject. even a post flair called "hungrypost" was added because of this

goblinhog:

goblinhog is the most prominent and well-known member of the 196 moderation team. besides this, on 196 he was mostly known for changing people’s flair if you enjoyed him enough about it.

flairs:

flairs are little tags that are displayed under your name in posts or comments, they are also subreddit specific. most subreddits give their users a palette of preset flairs and the option to make your own custom flair. however, in 196 you only had the option to customize your flair during special events. if you wanted to customize your flair outside of those events (which was basically the entire time), you had to ask a mod to do it for you.

punching nazis:

from time to time, the same gif of a person with a nazi armband getting punched in the face, and promptly falling to the ground, was reposted to the subreddit. this became a sort of tradition.

discourse/drama

wasp discourse:

the wasp discourse was a one to two weeks long heated discussion that generally divided the subreddit into two factions. one side said that they were justified in killing wasps if they were attacked by them, while the other claimed that since wasps are just animals, they aren't aware of what they're doing in the same way humans are, and therefore should be spared.

drama about the british:

there was a time when jokes along the lines of "ew, british" became pretty frequent on the subreddit. as a response, some user claimed that this was akin to racism and tried to get others to stop with the jokes. a debate over whether or not it was important or necessary to stop followed afterwards.

pillar discourse:

this was a debate over which type of pillar should be considered the best (ionic; doric; corinthian). i have seen the question "which pillar is the best?" being used as a sort of greeting between 196 refugees on here.

related subreddits

195:

195 was the predecessor to 196, and also was a social experiment with the same premise as 196 (one rule, post before you leave). as the creators of 195 ended the experiment, the community wanted something with the same vibe to continue posting, and thus 196 was born.

197:

197 is another part of the 196 ecosystem and is commonly understood to be the more politically right-leaning and bigoted as 196, as some people who were banned from 196 continued posting there. besides that, the subreddits were essentially the same in terms of how they functioned.

19684:

this subreddit adds a second rule which banned all mentions of sex (that’s why it’s name is a pun on 1984). some people took this as banning all discussion of sexuality, which resulted in a community that was slightly less accepting of queer people. it is currently still up and running as the 196 moderation team wants a way to stay in contact with the community.

amendments to the posts:

u/femboy_expert:

another well-known 196 user. as the name suggests they're an expert on the subject of femboys, with their flair on 196 reading "phd in feminine boys". as the subreddit was somewhat obsessed with femboys, it's no wonder that they became popular.

u/shitcum_backup:

this was the main account of a pretty popular shitposter on the subreddit. although i didn't see them as much in the last few months, i remember them sometimes having a unique speaking pattern, in which they referred to themself in the third person.

u/monko74:

this user commented "Every day I thank god for not making me a r/196 celebrity," which led to many users of the subreddit treating them like a micro celebrity. there are even a few subreddits solely dedicated to u/monko74.

691:

a sister subreddit that inverts the rule of 196, here you would be (temporarily) banned for posting. some time ago the members of this sub initiated a rebellion/revolution against the bot who performed all the bans (roomba).

u/Smart_Calendar1874:

this wasn’t necessarily part of the subreddit, but it was a pretty popular meme. and since it’s getting posted on here again, and i know enough about it, i’ll add it to the post. this user made a post to r/AskReddit titled "How would you get a small cylinder (5.1in length, ~4.5in girth) unstuck from a mini M&Ms tube filled with butter and microwaved mashed banana? [sic]" it was pretty clear that they were referring to their penis, yet they continued to claim "it’s a cylinder," in the comment section. this lead to comments like "it is imperative that the cylinder […] remains unharmed," in response to people’s advice of cutting the m&m tube.

it's going to be very interesting to see which aspects of 196 culture are going to survive the tumblr migration, and which aspects won't be applicable on this site.

i'm obviously not the ultimate scholar on 196 lore. if i’ve missed or left out anything, or said something wrong, please comment it.

[thehmn]

Because I’m more of a folklore and myth fan than modern fantasy fan I had no idea kobolds are usually depicted as lizards in the West and dogs in the East.

I’ve read up on why (in the original dnd manual kobolds looked like weird lizard dog people and afterwards some creators focused more on the lizard aspects while others focused more on the dog aspect, which resulted in some creators depicting them as any random animal they like) but in folklore kobolds are literally just the German version of gnomes, or the Scandinavian nisse/tomte.

They are both small and dress like the peasant class of their respective countries, they both have the ability to transform into animals and inanimate objects, though they tend to change back pretty quickly suggesting they don’t have the “stamina” to keep the illusion up for long, they act as house helpers and protectors but will turn nasty if disrespected sometimes going so far as to burn the whole house down, and they also work on ships both as helpers and bad omens. The ship thing overlaps so much that if you look up ship kobold or ship gnome (skibsnisse) you get the same pictures.

The only big difference I could find is that folklore kobolds are also known to work in mines, though I wouldn’t be surprised if you get some mine nisse/tomte in Norway or Sweden that I just haven’t come across yet. The Danish nisse variant is also known to have a wide variety of jobs like farmer, church helper, scribe and miller.

My general impression is that folklore kobolds are sliiightly meaner gnomes but not by much, so while I’d never tell fantasy kobold fans to change anything about their beloved creature, if I were ever to make a fantasy world I’d depict them as the bad boy relative of the nisses who are very close knit with humans, even living with them, while kobolts prefer more unsavory or unrefined humans and naturally encountering dwarfs more often in the mines, and have tomtes live in nature with more close relations to wild animals but still relatively close to humans and put them all under the species of gnome.

[kyra45]

Scammers pretending to be Palestinian v6

(Scammers pretending to be Palestinian v6)

This guide is meant to inform you on some ways to differentiate legitimate fundraisers from those created by scammers who have been impersonating Palestinians for several months now. While originally I tried to list the scam blogs in these posts, Im just making this now a general overall method to spot scams.

Disclaimer: This guide is not to say all Palestine based asks are from bots or a scammer. Rather, it is meant to explain the reasoning why something is legitimate or not. Do not use this guide as an excuse to claim every single Palestine fundraiser is a scam.

TL;DR: In the span of you saying someone’s bot, you could be using tumblr search instead of telling me your reporting every ask you get as a scam without looking at the account.

One of the first things to keep in mind is that most asks you get will come from accounts who check the notes of a post. Meaning they saw you and decided to send you the ask or DM to share their fundraising post. This is not bot behavior and often is done by those is unfortunate situations that desperately need funding and as a result is a common occurrence across the internet. If this bothers you, it is suggested to turn off your askbox or limit DMs to mutuals instead of the posting in the scam tag that every ask you get is from a scammer when it’s a gfm account that has been vetted by a well known blog that may even be on a list of verified fundraisers if you bothered to look it up.

Secondly, while originally a non-gfm fundraiser may have been suspicious (such as PayPal or gogetfunding) it has since been decided and clarified that such fundraisers are now used when a gfm is shut down unexpectedly and the original creator informs the donors that they will need to resend it their support to a new fundraiser. If you do not see any mention of a previous gfm in a PayPal/gogetfunding post there is a possibility that searching parts of the post may show that the content is from someone else and the source may still be active with no mention of tumblr itself indicating the tumblr post is impersonating the real gfm.

Thirdly, due to language barriers legitimate accounts may use asks from other vetted fundraiser blogs with only minor edits. While this isn’t something I’d suggest doing, it’s understandable the situation unfortunately relies on copying someone else’s words to ask for support. However, please don’t reuse the post content unless you were given permission or are related to the original fundraiser such as being a family member. Images may be borrowed from other accounts, though they may be stolen from offsite places. This is not full proof of a scam, as it’s suggested to search around for proof of who originally posted the images. Please understand not everyone is natively an English speaker and Google translate isn’t always accurate. Some may reuse someone else’s posts unaware that it’s suspicious behavior.

Fourthly, most scam accounts have reused a certain style of ask often mentioning needing insulin (Humalog) for a relative, having nose freezes due to asthma, being down to their last pen and asking for “nt much”, or referring to their family being in the ruins of a church. The frequency of these asks is so common searching them in tumblr search should bring up plenty of posts. Additionally, the names used by these accounts generally appear across multiple blogs that have been seen running different kinds of scams later on. A majority of their posts are almost always stolen off a real fundraiser they don’t link to.

Fifthly, in regards to verification it is very easy to search a username and see who vetted an account. Scammers will often say they’re verified but don’t list who or even paste a username that has never existed at all when you go to check. If asked about it, they generally will opt to block you without responding. There are people who will take time out of their day to ensure someone’s legitimate just be patient.

Lastly, don’t just assume every Palestinian gfm is a scam and stop acting like sharing a scam is fine because you don’t want to accidentally ignore someone in need. If you regularly see the posts from legitimate blogs and share them you would eventually be able to tell the day old private PayPal account asking for insulin funds is suspiciously asking for a low amount of funds compared to everyone else.

If I’ve missed anything, please let me know.

[fouryearsofshades]

Some Chinese fashion styles

Disclaimer: The following styles and their definitions were observed by me and are not authoritative. I am only familiar with Hanfu and if I made mistakes and picked the wrong photo examples or fraud shops, please let me know. Also, this post focused on women's fashion because 1. I am not into men's fashion so I don't know much about them. 2. The algorithm also knew that so I don't really see them.

汉服/Hànfú

传统服饰/Chuántǒng fúshì （传服/chuán fú）

清汉女/Qīng hàn nǚ

旗装/Qí zhuāng

旗袍/Qípáo

新国风/Xīn guó fēng、新中式/Xīn zhōngshì 汉元素/hàn yuánsù 茶艺服/Cháyì fú or 茶服/chá fú 唐装/Tángzhuāng 中山装/Zhōngshānzhuāng.

汉服/Hànfú

The ethnic clothing of Han Chinese (not the Han Dynasty).

There was a prohibition of Han clothing and hair styles in Qing dynasty, i.e. the 剃发易服/Tìfā yìfú qu Queue Ordinance, so modern hanfu is an on-going revivalist moment.

Modern hanfu are based on archeological evidences with minor twists to suit modern like, such as the type of fabric used and cut.

As a result, there are many types of garments and sub-styles. The figure above shows some examples.

While which style should be included and promoted is a constant debate, but in general, the cutout line is the Qing dynasty (however small accessories such as purses are alright).

传统服饰/Chuántǒng fúshì （传服/chuán fú）

No example because I am not sure who identified with this label.

The Chinese traditional clothing.

This either referred to historical clothing restorers (regardless of ethnicity) or people who promoted that the traditional clothing of Han people should be in the late Ming dynasty style, since "people should get up at where they had fallen".

They might be agreeable with the hanfu movement or not.

清汉女/Qīng hàn nǚ

The clothing of women of Han Chinese in the Qing dynasty.

Since the Queue Ordinance wasn't that strictly enforced on Han women, the Han women clothing in the Qing dynasty had quickly absorbed Manchurian's elements while retaining the characteristic two-piece silhouette. (Manchurian women wore a one-piece robe.)

I believed it appeared around 2019 when the styles of hanfu had moved to fully embroidered surface to a more tone down brocade or weaved patterns.

旗装/Qí zhuāng

The ethnic clothing of Man people (Manchurian).

The women's clothing are generally in round collar opened on the left (youren) with straight sleeves.

The most basic item is a 衬衣/chènyī, which doesn't have vents.

However, the most common item I have seen on the street is a 氅衣/chǎng yī (probably rented), which should be worn on top of 衬衣, since they have side vents.

They usually have no standing-up collar but in some cases a fake collar could be worn.

On top of changyi they could wear a 马褂/mǎguà、坎肩/kǎnjiān、褂裥/guà jiǎn.

旗袍/Qípáo

The Chinese clothing of women originated from the Minguo era, known in English as qipao or cheongsam.

The male equivalent is 长衫/chángshān.

Currently in style is the retro-cut, while uses the traditional flat cut (no shoulder seam) instead of the more body-hugging modern draping style.

There are also many variations and cuts, but the overall silhouette is similar.

新国风/Xīn guó fēng、新中式/xīn zhōngshì

Innovative clothing that was inspired by Chinese traditional aesthetic.

It is an umbrella term.

汉元素/hàn yuánsù refers to clothing inspired by hanfu specifically, while xinguofeng could be inspired by qipao and other ethnic clothing. In addition, hanyuansu is a term more familair to hanfu-ers, so the target audience is slightly different between hanyuansu and xinguofeng.

茶艺服/Cháyì fú or 茶服/chá fú,i.e tea dress, which aimed to convey a zen and rustic aesthetic could also be considered a sub-style. They are often worn by retirees, artists or workers in tea shops, calligraphy shops, Chinese spas, Chinese traditional medicine clinics etc.

The older "Chinese style" generally refers to 唐装/Tángzhuāng and 中山装/Zhōngshānzhuāng.

Tangzhuang (Tang Suit) was a men suit characterized with a mandarin collar with a row of 盘扣/pán kòu frogs in the middle. There are two pockets at the bottom front of the suit. It was a well-known looked worldwide due to the 2001 APEC summit. However, other clothes resembled a 马褂/mǎguà could also be called a tangzhuang.

Zhongshanzhuang was designed and named after Sun Yat-sen but was often known in English as the Mao Suit. Mao Suit was characterised with a 关门领/Guānmén lǐng（“closed-door collar", but also known as Mao collar in English) with a row of round buttons. There are four pockets at the front of the suit.

中华lolita/Zhōnghuá lolita

A sub-style of the lolita fashion inspired by cheongsam/qipao, hanfu or other Chinese artistic elements.

The same item could appeared in different styles, but with different cut and accessories. The following examples showed a mamianqun used in different styles.

THE END

[zaerilyn]

Turbulent Waters

Jiyan x Female!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Porn With Plot, Reader-Insert, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Childhood Friends, Romance, A Bit of Fluff

Summary: The unexpected return of General Geshu Lin and swirling rumors about Y/N's connection with him test the unspoken feelings between Jiyan and Y/N. Long-buried emotions erupt in a heated confrontation, pushing Jiyan to face his love and fears head-on. Amid the resulting tension and misunderstandings, a fervent confession emerges, culminating in a passionate encounter that forever alters their relationship.

Or basically,

Jiyan’s been secretly crushing on his childhood friend since forever. Then he finally snaps one night after hearing rumors about you and Geshu Lin getting freaky.

The campfire’s flickering glow painted the shadows of soldiers onto the walls of the tents around you. The chatter was alive with discussions of strategy, victories, and idle gossip. Jiyan’s presence commanded respect among the men, his stoic nature and tactical brilliance earning their loyalty.

You walked through the camp with your medical bag, your mind focused on the task at hand. General Geshu Lin had returned from his mysterious absence, wounded and needing your expertise. As the head doctor, your reputation for unparalleled medical skill and your willingness to step into the battlefield were well-known among the troops. Often, you worked late into the night, tending to injuries with a deft hand and a caring heart. Your dedication had earned you the respect and admiration of many, including Jiyan, your childhood friend and now the general.

From a young age, you and Jiyan had been inseparable, growing up in the same village and training together. Over the years, your bond had deepened into something more complex. While your teasing often veiled genuine affection, the weight of your respective responsibilities and unspoken fears kept both of you from confessing your true feelings. Jiyan, in particular, struggled with the burden of his role, fearing that any deeper connection might bring you pain if he were to fall in battle.

You had just finished stitching a soldier’s wound when a familiar voice called out to you.

“Y/N!” Jiyan’s deep voice reached you through the din.

You turned to see him striding towards you, his expression as unreadable as ever, but with a flicker of something you couldn't quite place.

“Jiyan,” you greeted, flashing a quick smile. “I’m on my way to check on Geshu Lin. He needs some attention.”

His jaw tightened slightly at the mention of Geshu Lin. “I’ll accompany you,” he said, falling into step beside you.

“Jiyan, you know I can handle this,” you said softly, glancing at him. “I’ve done it countless times.”

He shook his head, determination etched on his face. “I know. But I’m coming with you anyway.”

The path to Geshu Lin’s tent was quiet, the sounds of the camp fading as you approached the general’s quarters. Jiyan’s presence was a comforting weight beside you, though you could sense the tension radiating from him. Usually, Jiyan was not one to interfere with your work. He respected your medical expertise, often admiring your dedication and skill. He had once dabbled in medical training himself, understanding the crucial role you played. His protectiveness tonight was unusual, spurred by the whispers among the soldiers and the sight of you heading towards Geshu Lin.

When you reached the tent, Jiyan hesitated outside, giving you a look that was both protective and conflicted. You stepped inside, finding Geshu Lin reclining on a cot, his torso bare and bandaged.

“General,” you greeted, setting down your bag and moving to his side.

Geshu Lin gave you a weary smile. “Y/N, just the person I was hoping to see. How have you been?”

You began to check General Geshu Lin's bandages with practiced efficiency. Your fingers moved deftly, unwrapping the old gauze to inspect the healing wounds on his torso. The soft glow of the lamp illuminated his muscular build, and you could see the edges of the scar tissue starting to form.

“Busy, as always. Let’s see how you’re healing.”

You examined the wound, carefully cleaning it with antiseptic. The sharp scent filled the air as you dabbed at the raw edges with a soft cloth, your brow furrowing in concentration.

“You have quite the delicate touch, Y/N. I can see why you're the head doctor. It’s reassuring to have someone so skilled attending to my injuries.” He winced slightly as you applied a fresh bandage, securing it with precise movements. His muscles tensed under your touch, but he remained composed, his eyes studying your face.

“Just doing my job. Try to avoid any strenuous activity for a few more days. The wound’s healing well, but it still needs time.”

As you worked, you couldn't shake the feeling of Jiyan's presence just outside the tent. His familiar aura seemed to permeate the air, adding a layer of tension to the enclosed space.

Geshu Lin’s eyes glinted with a mischievous light as he watched you, leaning back slightly to give you more access to his wound.

“You know,” he said casually, a smirk playing on his lips, “Jiyan seems rather protective of you. Quite the guard dog, isn’t he?”

You glanced up, surprised by his comment, your hands pausing briefly in their task. “He’s just looking out for me.”

Geshu Lin chuckled, the sound low and slightly mocking. “Is that what you think? I’d be careful, Y/N. Someone might snatch you away if he’s not careful.”

His gaze lingered on you, filled with a subtle challenge. The way he spoke to you, with a flirtatious undertone and easy familiarity, unsettled you slightly. You could sense the underlying tension between him and Jiyan, the rivalry simmering beneath their polite interactions. You finished applying the bandage and pulled away, your eyes meeting his briefly before you stood up.

Before you could respond to his insinuations, the tent flap rustled, and Jiyan entered with a controlled intensity. His eyes narrowed as he took in the scene, your proximity to Geshu Lin and the casual atmosphere between you two.

“Am I interrupting something?” His voice carried a restrained edge, the calm before a storm.

Geshu Lin smirked, a knowing gleam in his eyes as he noticed Jiyan's reaction. He shifted slightly, exaggerating the nonchalant attitude.

“Just receiving some excellent medical care, General.” His tone was smooth, almost taunting. “Y/N here has been doing an admirable job.”

You quickly shook your head, sensing the brewing confrontation. “No, Jiyan. Just finishing up here.”

Jiyan’s gaze flicked to Geshu Lin, a muscle ticking in his jaw. His eyes then softened slightly when they met yours, but the tension in his posture remained evident.

“We need to talk. Now.” His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. He reached out, his grip on your arm assertive but not harsh, guiding you out of the tent. The night air hit you as you stepped outside, and you could feel the storm brewing beneath Jiyan’s composed exterior.

As you walked away, you caught a glimpse of Geshu Lin's smirk, a triumphant light in his eyes. He watched you both leave, clearly satisfied with the effect his words had on Jiyan. The sense of rivalry was palpable, his earlier words echoing in your mind and adding to the weight of the situation.

Jiyan led you away from Geshu Lin's tent with a firm grip on your arm, the urgency in his steps matching the storm brewing in his eyes. He didn’t stop until you reached the dimly lit interior of his own tent, the flap falling shut behind you. The space felt immediately more intimate, with the scent of burning candles mingling with the earthy aroma of the canvas walls.

He finally released your arm and turned to face you, his eyes dark with a mix of anger and frustration.

“Jiyan, what’s going on?” Confusion laced your voice as you tried to understand his sudden agitation.

He stopped abruptly in the center of the tent, turning to you with a fierce intensity.

“Do you realize what people are saying about you and Geshu Lin?” His voice was low and intense, each word biting into the charged air between you.

Your brow furrowed in bewilderment. “What are you talking about?”

“I heard the men talking,” he said, his eyes blazing. “They think… They think there’s something between you and him. They’re saying he’s lucky to have you visiting him late at night.”

You blinked, taken aback by his words. “That’s absurd. I’m just treating his injuries.”

His expression hardened, his frustration clear. “Is that all?” he demanded. “Because it doesn’t look that way to them. Or to me.”

Indignation flushed your cheeks. “How dare you? I’m clearly only doing my job. Just because he’s my patient doesn’t mean there’s anything else going on.”

Jiyan’s eyes softened for a moment before hardening again, a conflict of emotions playing across his face. “I know you, Y/N. But I can’t stand the thought of you with him. Of him thinking he has a claim on you.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“What are you saying, Jiyan?”

He took a step closer, his hands gripping your shoulders, his touch firm yet filled with a desperate intensity.

“I’m saying I can’t lose you. I won’t.” His words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken emotions. You searched his face, seeing the raw vulnerability in his eyes.

“Jiyan,” you said softly, your voice trembling, “I’ve always been here. I’m not going anywhere.”

A flicker of relief crossed his features, but it was soon replaced by a fierce determination.

“I can’t stand seeing you with him, hearing those things. I…” His voice trailed off, and he seemed momentarily lost.

You took a step closer, your heart aching at the conflict you saw in him. “If you want me, you just have to say it.”

His eyes locked onto yours, and before you could react, he closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a fierce, desperate kiss. Your hands flew to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart through his clothes.

The kiss deepened, a raw, unrestrained intensity igniting between you. Jiyan’s hands roamed over your back, pulling you closer, his touch both demanding and tender. You responded with equal fervor, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pressed yourself against him.

Jiyan’s tent became a cocoon of heightened emotions and physical desire, the soft glow of candles casting flickering shadows on the canvas walls. His usual stoic demeanor had shattered, replaced by a primal need that matched your own.

His hands moved to unfasten the ties of your tunic, each movement deliberate and urgent. You mirrored his actions, your fingers fumbling with the fastenings of his uniform, peeling away the layers that separated your bodies. The cool air of the tent brushed against your heated skin, heightening your senses.

As you both shed the last of your clothing, the intimacy of the moment deepened. Jiyan’s gaze was intense, his eyes tracing the contours of your body with a mix of awe and hunger. He guided you towards the sturdy wooden table in the center of the tent, the coarse surface pressing against your abdomen as he positioned you with your belly flat against it.

Your body trembled with anticipation, your senses heightened by the unfamiliar position. Jiyan stood behind you, his hands exploring the soft curves of your hips, the firmness of your back. He leaned over you, his chest brushing against your back, his breath hot against your ear.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growled, his voice rough with need. “Me, claiming you from behind, making you mine?”

A shiver of anticipation ran down your spine. Your response was a breathless moan, your hands gripping the edges of the table as you arched your back slightly, offering yourself to him.

“Yes,” you gasped. “I want all of you.”

His eyes darkened with a fierce possessiveness. He aligned himself with your entrance, the tip of his erection pressing against your slick folds. The anticipation made your body tense, the heat between your thighs intensifying.

He entered you slowly, the initial stretch sending a shockwave of pleasure and slight discomfort through you. Your body adjusted quickly, accommodating his size as he pushed deeper. You gasped, your fingers gripping the table’s edge tightly, your hips instinctively pushing back against him to take him fully.

Jiyan’s movements were deliberate at first, his hips rocking gently as he set a rhythm. Each thrust sent ripples of pleasure through your body, the friction of his length against your inner walls intensifying the sensation. He began to move faster, his breathing growing ragged, his need evident in the urgency of his thrusts.

You matched his pace, your hips lifting to meet his, creating a rhythm that was both urgent and perfectly attuned to each other. The table creaked beneath you, a steady counterpoint to the rising symphony of your moans and gasps.

He leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back as he slid a hand around to cup one of your breasts. His fingers teased your nipple, the combination of sensations making your body arch into his touch. His other hand moved to grip your hip, holding you steady as he increased the intensity of his thrusts.

His lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve, his breath warm against your ear.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he demanded, his voice a low, rough whisper. His teeth grazed your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine. “Say it.”

The pressure built within you, coiling tighter with each passing moment. Your climax was imminent, the tension in your body reaching a fever pitch.

“I’m yours,” you cried out, your voice breaking. “Only yours.”

The admission seemed to ignite something in him. His thrusts became more forceful, each one driving you higher. His hand slid down your body, his fingers finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. He rubbed it in time with his thrusts, the combined stimulation pushing you over the edge.

The intensity of his words, combined with the relentless assault on your senses, sent you spiraling into climax. Your body tensed, and you cried out his name as the wave of your orgasm crashed over you. The pleasure was so intense that it left you trembling, every nerve ending alight with sensation.

Jiyan followed moments later, a deep groan escaping him as he found his release. You felt the pulsating warmth of his ejaculation filling you, his body tensing above you as he drove into you one last time, then collapsing onto you in a spent, panting heap. The connection between you pulsed with the remnants of your shared ecstasy, the room filled with the sound of your mingled breaths.

With a gentle, yet firm motion, Jiyan lifted you from the table, your body still sensitive and trembling from the intense experience. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, your head resting against his chest as he carried you across the tent. The big-sized cot in the corner awaited, a simple but welcoming reprieve after the raw intensity of your encounter.

Jiyan laid you down on the cot with a care that belied the ferocity of his earlier actions. The coarse blanket beneath you felt cool against your heated skin. He joined you, lying down beside you, his arms wrapping around you protectively. The proximity allowed you to feel the steady beat of his heart against your back, a comforting rhythm that helped soothe the lingering intensity within you.

Your breathing synchronized with his as you nestled against him, feeling the solid warmth of his body and the lingering glow of your climax. You reached up to cup his cheek, your fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw. Jiyan’s eyes softened, a look of tender affection replacing the earlier passion.

As you lay there, the sounds outside the tent slowly filtered back into your awareness. The quiet murmur of the camp, the occasional footsteps of patrolling soldiers—sounds that had been completely drowned out by the fervor of your connection. You realized that your earlier cries had likely been heard by those outside, a fact that made your cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and pride.

Jiyan seemed to read your thoughts. A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes as he tightened his arms around you, his breath warm against your ear.

“I made sure they heard,” he said, his voice a low, satisfied murmur. “Let them know you’re mine. Let them hear your pleasure.”

You blinked, taken aback by his admission. Your heart raced as you processed his words. This side of Jiyan—bold, possessive, deliberately exposing your intimacy—was completely at odds with the gentle, respectful friend you had always known. His usual demeanor was composed, his actions always measured and considerate. The idea that he would consciously ensure that others knew what was happening between you was both shocking and electrifying.

It then clicked. After all, you had tried to stifle your screams earlier, biting your lip to keep from making too much noise. But Jiyan had been relentless, finding ways to make you cry out despite your efforts. His hand had clamped over your mouth briefly, only to slide away as he increased the intensity of his movements, making it impossible for you to remain silent.

“You… you did that on purpose?” you asked with cheeks flushed red, barely able to believe this new side of him.

“I want everyone to know that you’re with me. That you’re mine.” His eyes locked onto yours with a possessive gleam.

“I didn’t know you had this side to you, General Jiyan,” you said in a teasing tone.

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” he replied, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

“But you’ll learn. I want you to know all of me, Doctor.”

[dannyphantom-zero]

Doctor Danny Prompt

Danny Fenton is largely regarded as an ignorant slacker as a result of his schoolwork and study time consistently being interrupted by ghost attacks. Thankfully after Danny is crowned high king of the ghost zone he is able to reign the ghosts in and makes them all swear an oath not to cause trouble, they are still allowed to visit the human world of coarse, some even mask themselves as human and lead ordinary loves even while being dead.

With more time on his hands and little to no ghosts attacks Danny misses the rush he used to get. Then one day a man collapsed in front of him, Danny is able to save the man using CPR and he discovers his new affinity. Medical practice.

Danny goes to college and gets into a hospital as a resident after interning, not long after though the Amity Park hospital closes due to lack of funding and he is forced to find another hospital.

He got a good recommendation from his previous hospital to work at a hospital in Gotham, definitely far from home, but he doesn't let that stop him.

Soon after working there he finds the influx of patients to care for refreshing, he becomes widely known as a genius miracle doctor.

One day he's taking a leisurely walk when he found an injured vigilante, the Red Hood, hes not conscious and therefore unable to give consent for treatment. Danny cares for Red Hoods injuries privately away from a hospital so as to keep the vigilantes identity a secret.

Red Hood is cautious and rude at first, but slowly he learns to open up to the doctor and even get continuously treated by Danny.

Danny is just finishing a shift when he hears about Superman being shot with a kryptonite bullet. Despite using his powers occasionally to treat patients, he's been able to keep his ghost gene a secret.

However that's about to change. He arrives on the seen and pushes his way through the police using a bit of his powers discreetly to get through.

The heroes aren't sure what to do.

"My name's Daniel Fenton, I am an attending physician at Gotham General Hospital, I specialize in supernatural anatomy, Cardiology and Endocrinology"

"All due respect doctor, his skin is impenetrable, you won't be able to operate on him"

Danny kept a cool face.

"That would be true for a normal human, I can't explain right now, every moment we wait is time we could be using to save the patient"

Danny used his ghost powers to see inside Superman body.

Several heroes gasped as they witnessed the doctors eyes turn a glowing green and then his arm became transparent. Danny stick his hand on Superman chest and pulled out the bullet.

As soon as the bullet was out Superman's skin began healing and restoring itself.

Danny let out a breath of relief before letting the superheroes escort him to the hall of justice where they sat with him.

"I would like to begin with we all can't thank you enough Dr" Batman said.

"wow, Mr tall dark and broody is being nice" flash whispered.

"Yes but I'm sure you still have questions for me."

Several heads nodded.

"are you of an alien race?"

Danny chuckled.

"No, nothing like that. My parents were scientists who were obsessed with the study of the paranormal, specifically ghosts. When I was young, around the age of fourteen I would say, my friends convinced me to go inside the newly constructed portal shell that my parents had tested earlier that day."

He paused waiting for them to take in his words before continuing.

"It had failed to operate then so I went in thinking it was safe. I was wrong. My parents had unknowingly instilled the charge to start the portal on the inside of the shell. I didn't know it was even there until I tripped on some tangled exposed wire and my hand pressed it"

"did it hurt?" Flash asked. He got a few dirty looks for that question but Danny just gave him a friendly smile.

"in a word, yes. It was excruciating. I was electrocuted for a half a minute. On top of that I had accidentally started the charge to the portal shell while being inside. This caused an outside substance called ectoplasm to enter my DNA sequence permanently changing it"

"ectoplasm" Batman muttered.

"in simpler terms, I'm half ghost."

"That's not possible! You would have to be half dead to be-" Flashs words were silenced with a swift smack to the back of the head by wonder women.

"Yes, I am technically half dead. I had to battle these ghost entities for a while to make sure they didn't wreck havoc in the small town o grew up in."

"Forgive me, but of that's true why aren't you there now"

Danny chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck a little nervous of their soon to be reactions.

"After I was forced to defeat the current ghost king and put him back onto the sarcophagus of forever sleep, the title became mine. I gained respect and control over the ghosts who were causing trouble amd was able to make them stop"

"Your a king" Batman stated.

"i don't refer to myself as such, on truth many ghosts helped imprison the old king, I received the title on a technicality."

He looked down at his hands.

"after the peace had settled in I had begun to feel as though a part of me was missing so I took up the career I have currently."

He smiled at them sweetly as he explained.

"My battle instincts help me when I'm in a crisis situation with a critical patient. With my powers I can calm them and safely restrain them if need be. As you saw today I can also better treat meta humans and alien races with these abilities as well"

"you went from being a hero to being a doctor, that's commendable"

Danny shook his head.

"Not really. I'm doing a selfless thing for selfish reasons"

The league smiled upon him. From then on he was world renowned for his worldly expertise and protected.

Should I make this into a whole fanfiction or not? Because I want to go into more detail but I want to know what you all think first.

[reblogandlikes]

Paraphrasing, but the general idea of, "Oh my gosh, Rhysand let's Feyre breathe and go wherever she wants and can make her own choices in Velaris, whereas Tamlin’s stripped her of all her autonomy. He's so abusive and doesn’t listen to her."

Bruh, Velaris is a literal secret city no-one knows of and has a fucking state of the arts super shield around it that requires the help of the bloody Cauldron to break. Plus, the Lord of Bloodshed, the Shadowsinger, the Morrigon, the Otherworldly creature trapped in fae form, and the self proclaimed all Most Powerful High Lord reside in this single space. Of course, Feyre suddenly feels like she has "Freedom." There's no need for surveillance (even though she's always accompanied by one of them) and is basically living in an impenetrable bubble away from all possible dangers.

Then there's Rhysand who can literally feel and hear everything she doesn't express, whereas her and Tamlin had the silly unspoken rule of not talking, but instead carry on - push forward which ultimately resulted in her growing resentment, but she was quite literally a participant in this just as much as he was, while refusing to believe him when he said it was dangerous or that the towns people wouldnt want her help because they were so grateful or getting mad because he had to be an active HL. Hybern were actively looking for her; there's literal monsters roaming his land. Of course, she needs to be protected because the girl is literally in danger. And then the one time she did go out to hunt or whatever, and look, she froze.

To tamlin, she's in danger from Hybern and their monsters, in danger from Rhysand who has been nothing but a known menace to Prythian and she's in danger from the HL's if they ever realise she has powers she's not meant to possess. Plus, the act of rebuilding his court and strengthening relationships via those "parties" he's not allowed to smile at and ensuring the safety of his people. Dude has a lot going on at once, nevermind his own trauma that's being repressed and trying to become reacquainted with his HL powers.

Now these are very huge differences in environments. One in a controlled setting and another that isn't. Similar when Feyre was in the Moon Palace because that's controlled too. Now, what if Feyre was in Hewn City or Illyria instead? Yeah, all that "Freedom" she loves would be cut real quick.

Hell, she was placed in a literal bubble when pregnant while wholly safe in Velaris for...reasons. But, "Rhysand is just being Rhysand 🤭✨️ hee hee," I guess.

Feyre with Tamlin and Feyre with Rhysand are not comparable when the situations during a time of internal turmoil for her are vastly different. And despite this obvious observation, somehow it doesn't register as the beginning of turning Tamlin into the antagonist despite never once getting his POV beneath the surface.

[redstarwriting]

protected

hobie brown x o’hara!reader

request?: yes

request: “I know you’re probably busy 🙏🏽 but can I request a hobie x reader Where reader is miguels kid but from another universe and we were known as “dangerous” to the multiverse and miguel had to watch over us and we find out while hanging out with hobie and hobie has to comfort us as we try to process the fact that Miguel wasn’t our real dad and just someone keeping the mutliverse safe?

I really hope this makes sense i just don’t know how to make is make sense uk? 😭 💀”

requested by: @millerworld​

word count: 1.7k

genre: angst with some fluff

Warnings: language, mentions of childbirth death, big feelings of betrayal, probably horrible spanish, honestly a lot of angst

A/N: apologies for the wait for this one! i love writing angst though so i was rubbing my hands together like an evil lil bitch writing this. i apologize if the spanish is wrong/not how it would actually be said/worded. been a minute since i took a spanish course, so i am a little rusty. please enjoy, and thank you so much for requesting, love! :)

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Ever since you remembered your dad, Miguel O’Hara, was there. Of course, there are certain moments of your childhood you don’t remember, as every child has, but your earliest memory is your dad picking you up and soothing you as you cried at two years old. And ever since then, he was always there. Your friends at school would always say you were so lucky that you had a dad that was so devoted to you, and you agreed. To an extent. See, he was very particular about what he allowed you to do. It wasn’t in a negative way, necessarily, he was just protective. His favorite saying and your least favorite saying in your house was ‘I just want what’s best for you, cariño.’

It resulted in you staying home from school events, friend events, and generally any type of event where your safety could have been compromised. It caused you to be a bit of a loner, always hearing about the parties, the gossip, all of it instead of actually experiencing it for yourself.

Of course, it annoyed you.

It still does.

He’s loosened up a bit eventually, though, allowing you to go to work with him. Which also meant you got to meet many spiders. Quite a few of the spider-people quickly became your closest friends, as it was simpler and easier for your dad to keep tabs on you in Spider Society. Much to his chagrin, you quickly became best friends with Hobie Brown. The two of you were around the same age, and since you were annoyed at your dad and in your rebellious era, you got along swimmingly. A little too swimmingly, actually, which Miguel purposefully chose to ignore for the most part. Until he saw Hobie sucking his little one’s face off. Regardless, Hobie was always quick to validate all your conflicted, annoyed, and even positive feelings about your father. He even helped you come out of your shell and rebel against Miguel occasionally.

Miguel didn’t like this very much, but he also knew that Hobie was still a good influence on you. No matter how many times both of you tried to convince him that he wasn’t. But sometimes, Hobie would talk you into doing things that he very much disliked. Hated, even. And this time was one of those times. While he was out, containing a particularly difficult anomaly, Hobie convinced you to search through Miguel’s personal files on his supercomputer because he bet if your birth certificate would be anywhere, it would be there. When you found a folder with your name, you expected to open it to see some family pictures, hoping for your birth certificate with the name of your mom. Your dad never really talked about your mom, just that she passed away during childbirth. You stopped asking because every time you did, he would get very quiet and a guilty look would appear on his face. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious. So you went into this endeavor excited to see what you might find out. Unfortunately, that excitement didn’t last for very long. See when you opened your file expecting these mundane things, that wasn’t what you were met with.

In fact, that was nowhere near what you found.

You found detailed notes all about you.

“What the hell,” you mumble, scrolling through the various pictures of you as an infant, with two adult strangers. Hobie said nothing, looking at all the pictures and skimming the important parts of all the files you were pulling up with a frown on his face. You stop on a specific picture of a woman holding you in a hospital bed. She was smiling.

And she was very much alive.

Tears immediately start to well up in your eyes as Hobie gently pulls your hands away from the computer. “Think that’s enough a’ that, love,” he says softly. You yank your arms away from him. “No.” You scroll to the next photo, seeing a man you’ve never met before holding you in the same hospital room, with the same strange woman right next to him. The next time you scroll, it’s a detailed account from Miguel about who you are. Notes from your dad declaring you a ‘danger’ and that you ‘must be contained somehow.’ Talk of your biological parents, their names, and how you had to be separated from them before ‘irreversible damage was done to the multiverse.’

You stare at the screen, and Hobie pulls your hands away again, successfully this time. He steps between you and the screens, blocking your view and slowly walking you backward and away from the files. You’re too shocked to say anything, the only thing you can do is quietly cry. Hobie opens his mouth to say something when Miguel’s voice rings out. “What do the two of you think you’re doing?”

The two of you turn your heads toward Miguel, and his annoyed frown turns to one of concern as soon as he sees the look on your face. “¿Qué tienes, mi corazón?” Miguel asks, his voice much softer as he approaches you. Hobie moves, positioning himself between you and your ‘father,’ and scoffs. “Think you got some explainin’ to do ‘ere, mate,” Hobie says, and Miguel looks at him confused. Then he sees what’s on the screen. A look of horrified realization spreads across his face, and he looks at you. “(Y/n), cariño, I can explain.”

“Don’t call me that,” your voice, albeit shaky, finally comes back to you. Hobie turns his attention to you, squeezing the hand you’ve been holding onto for dear life ever since he pulled you away from the computer. “(Y/n)—”

“Who am I? Who are you to me?”

“…Please, let me—”

“WHO ARE THOSE PEOPLE?!” you shout, desperately yearning for your dad to say they weren’t what was said in his reports. But all he does is frown. “They’re… they are your biological parents,” he confesses, and you make a choked noise. Hobie subtly begins turning his watch to his universe, ready to make an escape from your dad at any point. “If you just let me explain—”

“I’m a threat to the multiverse?” you choke out through your tears, “What the fuck does that mean, papá?! If I can even call you that.” Miguel’s jaw clenches. “Don’t forget who raised you.”

“How could I?! How could you?! Is this why you never let me do anything?! Too worried your querido bebecito would destroy the fucking multiverse?!”

“(Y/n). I did it to protect everyone.”

“What about me?! Did you ever plan on telling me?! How is separating me from my family protecting me?!” Hobie places an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer and keeping you shielded by him as Miguel tries to step closer to you. Miguel glares at him, and Hobie glares back. Miguel holds out his hand in a surrendering way. “It was to protect you just as much, if not more, as it was to protect everyone else. If you would just listen—“

“No. No, I’m done listening to you.”

“Cariño—”

“I am not tú cariño. I am not tú corazoón. You are not mi papá,” you say, venom behind your words. You can practically see Miguel’s heart shatter into tiny little pieces.

That was the worst thing you could have ever said to him.

Before he can say anything else, Hobie opens the portal, pulling you through and closing it almost immediately. You find yourself in the familiar atmosphere of his flat. “C’mere, love,” he mumbles, pulling you into his arms. You grip his shirt, sobbing into his chest as he rocks you back and forth, softly shushing you occasionally and rubbing your back. After what feels like hours, but was really maybe a minute, he swiftly picks you up, carrying you bridal style to his bed as you continue to cry into his shirt. He sits down, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head and rubbing up and down your arm. He can’t help but feel guilty for this. If he didn’t convince you to look at the computer…

“Don’t blame yourself, Hobie… please,” you whimper, and he sighs. “Love, you needa stop bein’ so good at knowin’ what i’m thinkin’,” he mumbles, and you look up at him with a soft smile. “Can’t help it. Even your thoughts are loud,” you say, and he snorts. “Chuffed to see the cryin’ made ya feel better,” he says and you shake your head. “I still feel like shit, Hobie,” you whisper, and he frowns. He gently wipes some tears away from your cheeks. “Reckon all ‘at cryin’ has you knackered?” he mumbles, and you nod softly. He lays backwards, maneuvering the two of you to be laying down. The two of you face each other, one of his hands cradling the side of your face while the other soothingly rubs up and down your side. You grip onto his shirt, and he places a soft peck on your nose. “‘m sorry, love,” he says, and you sniffle. “I already told you it isn’t your fault.”

“‘Kay, still feel like it was,” he says, and you sigh. “That’s not important right now,” he mumbles, gently pulling you closer. “What’s important is that I make you feel better.” You look at him, your eyes are still glossy from tears. “Never met someone who looked so stunnin’ when they cry,” he says, gently stroking your cheek. You smile softly, and he does too. “There’s my favorite smile,” he whispers before softly placing his lips on yours. It’s only for a second, but it makes all the pain go away. And you’re grateful for that. Even if it is just for a second. “Get some sleep, love.” He kisses your forehead, tangling his legs with yours and pulling your head into his chest. You relax into him. He was right. The crying was exhausting. Before you know it, you’re asleep as Hobie gently traces shapes into your skin, whispering anything and everything he loves about you to you so softly that if you weren’t really listening, you wouldn’t hear any of it. No one makes you feel protected quite like Hobie does.

And even if it’s just for a moment, thanks to Hobie, you feel like everything will be okay.

───────────────────────────────────

[lawqual1ty]

Heart drawings (Trafalgar Law x GN!Reader)

Pov: After finishing your duties you end up hanging out with Law during his work but end up getting bored which results in you adding a little something to your captain's skin.

Warning: too much fluff (go get some insulin), reader has (implied) ADHD symptoms

You had never been known to be a person that could sit still for long, whether it was moving your leg around or playing with something in your hand you had to always be doing something or else your brain would go insane, which got you to offer your helping hand in a lot of situations once you joined the Heart pirates.

However there would always be days, like today, that there was not much you could do even if you asked to, so you had to stick to reading or studying for the most part after you finished your daily duties.

You were in your room reading a few of the medicine books that your Captain , Trafalgar Law, had generously lent you for your free time, however well... You were struggling... And a lot.

"Wait... What was I reading...?" You grunted, this was the third time in a row you had read the words on the book only to forget seconds later what exactly you had read with great speed. You were getting irritated. You wanted to learn more about how to create different types of medicine so that you could help your crew but your brain was having a hard time concentrating, you rubbed the bridge of your nose with annoyance.

"I need a break..." You muttered as you softly closed the book, a light tap from the cover giving you the signal that you could head off.

You wandered around for a while looking for something to do, many of your crewmates were already hanging out with each other, chatting, drinking and some even helping out to clean the medical bay, you wanted to offer a helping hand in hopes of entertaining your inevitable boredom.

"hey, what are you guys doing?" You asked softly approaching Sachi and Bepo who were cleaning a few medical supplements, the latter turning to look at you.

"Oh, we were just cleaning and sharpening some of our usual tools in case we get an emergency" Bepo tilted his head slightly "Did you need anything Y/N?"

You smiled at the sweet gesture of Bepo, shaking your head slightly at his question "Nope, I was just wondering if you guys needed any help"

Bepo looked over at the different tools placed in display, seeming to think about your question a bit too much before turning to look at you with an apologetic look on his face "Not really... I'm so sorry"

He apologized as usual, his tone shifting to a more melancholic one making you chuckle nervously, you never enjoyed seeing him like this but he was just so sweet that you understood where this attitude of his came from, you shook your hands in front of you in a way of excusing yourself, almost as if the one that had to be apologizing should be you "No no it's okay, no need to apologize Bepo..." His eyes lit up with relief as you didn't seem mad at him for rejecting your help, it made you feel relieved yourself.

You sighed deeply with a soft smile "Anyway, good luck you too" Sachi smiled at you warmly as well as Bepo

"Thank you! We'll make sure that everything is right! Oh..." You were about to leave when Sachi's words seemed to try and stop you in your tracks "If you go see the captain tell him we are lacking some oxygen tanks".

Your eyes widened at his words, why did he think you were going to see the captain? Out of shock you just nodded with a soft but shy smile "Sure thing, I'll make sure to inform him once I see him" with those last words you waved at the duo and walked away.

A sigh escaped your lips as you kept walking, you didn't originally intend to see your Captain but now thanks to Sachi and Bepo you sort of had an excuse... Right? You made your way through the cold but oddly comforting halls of the Polar Tang, you had not been here for long but these halls had definitely grown on you... Maybe they weren't the best looking but the people around them made it feel like a home to you.

You finally arrived at the office door of your captain, you were a tad bit nervous to interrupt him but... You had a job to do so you might as well shake that nervousness off and knock, which you did.

"Come in..." A light husky voice invited you inside, you breathed softly.

"Please excuse me..." You muttered before placing your hand in the door handle and opened it, a light creak welcoming you inside to the sight of your captain with big eyebags under his eyes as he drowned in paperwork, he didn't even raise his eyesight to acknowledge you "Yes? What is it Y/N-ya?".

You took a deep breath before speaking.

"Sachi informed me that we are short of oxygen tanks"

"Oh right... Write it down on the paper list and we'll get some more on the next island..."

He didn't even budge, and honestly neither did you... You knew that after this interaction you wouldn't have much to do later which made you a bit sad... So you just stood there, staring at your captain for a bit. He seemed to notice it, after all an exasperated sigh escaped his lips, his grey eyes slowly rising to look at you with a piercing cold gaze "Anything else?" He spoke, cold and firmly, questioning why you were still there in the first place... That should have been the end of your interaction, informing him was the only reason you came in there after all, right? Then why didn't you respond...? Your mind started racing...

"Captain..." Before you were fully aware of your actions you took a step forward and spoke "Do you... Mind if I stay for a bit?"

You caught a glimpse of surprise in your Captain's eyes, those grey spheres seeming to warm up for a moment at your offer. But just as quickly as it appeared it went away only for his attention to shift back to his paperwork.

"I... I'm sorry..." You were quick to apologize, your voice wavering ever so slightly

"I didn't mean to--"

"Go on."

You froze "What...?"

"I said you can stay..."

His words snapped you back to reality, he was... Allowing you to stay, you had no space for words, you just nodded and moved a chair over next to his desk taking a seat politely next to him as he kept on working.

He didn't budge at all, if anything it seemed like his concentration increased thanks to your presence, the mere idea made you happy as you sat there next to him.

Unfortunately you started getting bored once more, as thrilling as it was watching your captain work through his paperwork with graze, not budging at all, it had gotten boring after a few minutes.

You started looking around finding yourself with a pen, you softly took it into your hands and started fiddling with it... Suddenly, an idea sparked in your brain. You took the cap off it and started scribbling in your hand, trying to see if the pen was smooth enough to draw on your soft skin, you smiled brightly once you confirmed your suspicions: it was a good pen and it drew a perfect black ray on your skin with ease.

Once you discovered this you started drawing on your hands, starting off with a skeletal hand to practice the location of different bones in the hand to less professional stuff like hearts and small animals. You were entertained by your own scribbles when all of a sudden you were interrupted by Law grunting and leaning backwards on his chair.

He had his left arm laid across the chair, his tattooed hand dangling in the air, while his right arm stroked his face with obvious frustration. You stared at him then back at the pen you were holding, slowly but steadily a smirk formed on your lips.

Without a warning you scooted closer to your Captain, he didn't even realize you were closer to him until he felt your hands take a hold of his left arm, he flinched but didn't move his arm at all... They say curiosity killed the cat ... And curiosity had definitely gotten to him as he looked at you take his arm with your hand and start passing the pen around his skin in delicate but firm traces.

"What are you doing?" He questioned with a furrowed expression

"Drawing" you spoke bluntly as you focused on the piece of art that you were doing in his arm "I got bored..."

Your response caught him off guard, his eyes wide as he stared at you for a bit. A small smile formed on his lips "I need to check your medical record..."

His soft tone was like a way of signaling you something...of what he really meant: he didn't mind you drawing on him... You looked over at him for a moment only to smile and return to your drawing, you didn't know much what you were doing you just followed your heart as you scribbled. Slowly but steadily the drawing took form into a star surrounded by wavy lines that formed what almost looked like a tattoo design, you even went out of your way to draw small hearts, a secret confession of your feelings to your Captain (not that he would notice... Right?) You leaned back with a satisfied smile as you looked at your work, you looked over at Law who seemed entranced into one of his books, he hadn't budged during your whole art process. Once you leaned back he hummed softly, his eyes never leaving his book at all "You done?" He asked politely, you nodded.

"Yeah I did!"

"Good... My arm was starting to fall asleep..."

You couldn't help but laugh at his snarky comment "At least you now got another cool tattoo"

He huffed with a slight smirk "Doubt it..." You acted offended at his words giving him a light push on his shoulder winning a soft laugh from him.

"You haven't even seen it!"

"I don't need to..."

"Oh come on... You have seen my drawings!"

A soft chuckle was the only response you got, it made you smile, although he acted as if he probably didn't like it you knew that he did... Or that's what you'd like to believe...

And trust me he did...

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

A few days after the drawing incident you were wandering around the Polar Tang heading to the kitchen to get something to eat as you were pretty hungry.

You waltzed around when a characteristic husky voice caught your attention in an instant, it came from the kitchen. Following the voice you peaked through the door finding your captain talking with Penguin about something you didn't quite catch, all you knew was that it was something serious judging by Law's and Penguin's expression.

You stood there for a bit waiting for the right moment to enter when all of a sudden you noticed a small detail on your Captain's left arm, your eyes widened and your cheeks flushed a light pink...

What did you see?

Well, you saw your drawing tattooed onto his arm... That was the only reasonable explanation as to why it still looked so bright and vivid, after all a few days had passed since you did it and unless Law had taken extreme care of it it should have already been at least a little bit vanished, just like the drawings you did on your own skin from that same day.

Penguin was walking away once he had finished speaking to Law, which was your signal to pounce.

You slowly made your way towards Law catching his attention once you were hovering behind him, he glanced at him over his shoulder "Y/N-ya...?"

His question was left in the air once you took his left arm rising it to your face, much to his surprise, you scanned the drawing carefully confirming your suspicions: he had indeed tattooed it onto his skin. You turned to look to a flustered Law with a bright smile.

"You actually tattooed my drawing?!" You asked in both surprise and excitement, Law covered his face with his hand, a blush creeping its way to his cheeks in an instant

"Shut up..."

You laughed.

Maybe you should draw on him more often when you get bored...

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part twenty

authors note: this is more on the boring/filler side, and i apologize for that, but it covers some necessary things and hints at other things. plus, the one after this is wrestlemania and then after that is the infamous disney trip, and those def won't be boring/fillers. 👀

also, what do you ya'll think reader is having? i'm also open to name suggestions cause i hate naming characters lmao

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: fluff, language, angst, and suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

faceclaims

words: 6.6k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @yolobloggers @wanderingreigns @southerngirl41 @msbigredmachine @romanreignsbae

Life is one crazy ass ride.

You’ve always known this, but the past few months have really shown you just how insane things can be. It’s been up, it’s been down, it’s been just a fucking rollercoaster of events and emotions, but somehow, things always seen to work out in your favor.

You expected, maybe more so hoped, that your Live with Jadah would go over well. Would help people see and understand that there’s so much more to the story, so much more to you than the lies that have been fed to them by your apparently psychotic ex-best friend. That was the semi-goal.

Well, to say that goal was met is a bit of an understatement.

The Live went viral, spreading and making it to most global and some international platforms. TMZ formally issued an apology to you, Joe, and Jadah, and retracted their story with Mariah, even scrubbing the interview, which Joe’s legal team believes is only to avoid getting caught up in the several lawsuits she’s been slapped with. 

So many publications have turned the tide, no longer speaking on you and your situation with an almost judgmental stance but rather just reposting the Live and letting the facts speak for themselves.

And social media…..holy shit. 

One thing you never expected was for the Live to go viral, but you especially never expected for yourself to also go viral in a different way, that is.

While the general public was initially against you, bashing you every which way to Sunday, it’s almost completely turned with the vast majority now utterly and wholly intrigued with you. They’ve dug up old headshots from when you cheered in college, clips of you either practicing or competing, and a few Snap videos you were in, again, all during your college years.

Not to mention the clips they took from the Live, primarily of you playfully twerking with Jadah. That clipped with the TikToks you did with Naomi has resulted in people making TikToks and “edits,” as Alexis explained, posting and sharing everywhere.

Apparently, the vast majority of social media finds you extremely attractive, and have even been comparing you to the infamous prison bae, Jeremy Meeks, from way back when. Minus the criminal aspects, of course.

“Look at this one! These are my favorite.” Alexis turns her phone so the group of you can see what is yet another edit of you, err, more so your ass than anything to good googly moogly by Project Pat, which apparently was already going viral on TikTok as people post videos of friends and loved ones with a nice ass. Seems you’ve been added to that group.

“I don’t get the fascination,” you admit with a shake of your hand, fingers tapping against your glass of lemonade. “Like, I’m not even famous.”

“You kinda are now,” Bianca suggests. It's a crazy suggestion, too, because in what world does someone like you, from a small ass town with virtually no major social media footprint, qualify as famous. “Not like, A-List celeb famous, but you don’t make it to the Shade Room if you’re not at least kinda famous.”

Alexis makes a sound, adding, “ya’ll whole lil situation made the March event on their calendar.”

“On their what?” Jadah is understandably confused, asking, “what the hell does that even mean?”

“Twin, I’m gonna need to make a PowerPoint for you or something.”

“Please do, and make sure to add the fancy transitions.”

“Custom slide backgrounds?”

“You know the key to my heart.”

The meeting and union of Jadah and Alexis remains to be seen as one of the worst or best things you could have ever done. They’re so damn similar it felt almost criminal to not introduce them, but with both having such strong personalities, a clash could be one of the titans. So far, however, they’re vibing just as well as you and Jadah have. Hence why all of these ladies are sitting around your coffee table, various drinks in hand, most alcoholic, except for yours of course. 

Which reminds you…

“Oh shit,” you announce, four sets of eyes falling on you as you realize you haven’t shared the news with the majority of them, ironically, Jadah being the only one to know. “I haven’t had a chance to ask.”

You decide to be dramatic as hell, pausing as Alexis is the first to say, impatiently, “ask what, hoe?”

Another pause followed by an intentional rub of your belly as you nonchalantly ask, “which one of ya’ll wants to be in charge of planning the baby shower?”

You’re met with instant screams and squeals of enjoyment, a big smile falling on your face as you’re hit with all of the questions and exclamations. 

“I knew it! I knew it was just a matter of time before BDJ struck again!”

“Y/N! Oh my goodness, congratulations!”

“No freaking way! That’s amazing!”

“I’m gonna act like I didn’t already know, so congratulations, great value sister wife!”

Alexis and Jadah’s statements make you laugh while Bianca and Kaylah’s cause your heart to swell. You then try to quiet them down, “thank you, guys. We’re excited. But, we haven’t told Callie yet, so please keep it to yourselves.”

“Of course.” Kaylah excitedly asks, “how far along are you?”

“Almost three months,” you answer, proudly. Although entirely unexpected, or maybe not depending on how you look at it, you’ve found your excitement at this pregnancy growing every single day. Excitement at having another child, giving Callie the chance to be a big sister, to give Joe the opportunity to experience this pregnancy with you from conception to birth and beyond. He deserves it, especially now that you know what he went through with Jadah.

“Wait. Damn. This means we can’t have a hot girl summer until next year!” Alexis is pouting as she downs the rest of her drink before reaching for the bottle to get a refill. “You couldn’t let that nigga shoot up the club later this fall instead.”

Kaylah’s nose turns up as she also takes a sip of her moscato but not before muttering, “didn’t need that visual.”

Rolling your eyes, you point out, “Alexis, we are too damn old to be having a hot girl summer. Half of us are moms and/or in relationships except your non-committal ass.”

Non-committal has nothing to do with the topic that floats to the front of your mind, but having a room full of women to consult with seems like a perfect opportunity to discuss something that’s still bothering you to some extent.

“Let me ask ya’ll something.” You take a sip of your sparkling apple cider and get to explaining. “So, every time I try to talk to Joe about planning for when the baby gets here, like having my mom or his mom come stay with us a bit to help out when he’s on the road, he either ignores me, changes the subject, or just pacifies me. And I’m trying really hard not to cuss him out, but between baby emotions and me being me, it’s hard.”

Being perceptive is always something you’ve prided yourself on, valued as one of your attributes, so it’s hard not to miss when Kaylah, Alexis, and even Jadah all look suddenly uncomfortable with your question, like they also want to change the subject.

Bianca is the first and only to speak out.

“Yeah, that’s kind of weird.” Her agreement is the quintessential example of validation you were needing for this situation. “I get you’re barely three months, but why not start with the plans now? The sooner the better since it seems like his schedule is pretty hectic.”

Throwing your hands up in the air, you echo her sentiments. “Exactly! And one thing to know about me, which I know he has to know about me is that I like to plan. I hate surprises. We need to start figuring out this shit now.”

“I’d definitely talk to him about it, cause men can be very go with the flow, but this isn’t one of those things that I think should be go with the flow.”

“I feel like you should maybe just wait it out and see where the cards fall.” Kaylah’s suggestion is casual, but her eye contact is sparse, and you actually don’t know what to make of that. 

Jadah contributes to the conversation with agreement to Kaylah’s point. “I agree. Trust your man, whore.”

“But—” And as if present and overhearing said conversation, your phone starts to ring, the man himself filling up your lock screen. “Speaking of the devil…..” You lift and show your phone to the group. “I gotta take this ya’ll.”

“Well, duh.” Alexis says like it’s a no brainer. “BDJ probably won’t stop calling until you pick up anyway.”

Laughing, you untangle your legs and climb off the sofa at the same time you answer his FaceTime, quickly telling him, “hold on.”

“I’ll be back,” you inform, but the last thing you hear is Bianca making the awful mistake of asking Alexis what “BDJ” stands for. Alexis and Jadah start to laugh. 

Obviously, Jadah also knows what’s up. 

Locking the door behind you, you sit down on the patio set that was delivered only two days prior and situate your phone on the accompanying table. Legs crossed, you give him the go, “okay, i’m good now. Just wanted some privacy.”

He doesn’t hesitate to slide right into protective papa bear mode. “How you feeling?”

“Alright.” Your hand unintentionally lands on your stomach as you explain, “had some nausea this morning, but that’s not out of the norm. I had pretty bad morning sickness when I was pregnant with Callie the first few months.”

You can tell he’s not entirely satisfied with this answer, leaning more on the concerned and conservative side. “When’s your next checkup?”

“April 8th. I made sure to schedule it so you can be there.” Joe indicated he wanted the first Monday after WrestleMania to be a day of rest for you and Callie, and it can still be, but you also couldn’t miss the opportunity for him to be a part of your first official well-baby visit. Especially with this being the first time you’ll be able to hear the baby’s heartbeat. 

That must especially be special for him.

“I promise I’m okay, Joe.” Out of respect for him and his emotional state at such an important time in his life, you haven’t told him everything Jadah shared with you. Haven’t made him aware of your knowledge regarding his loss. You’re not sure if you ever will, to be honest. If he wishes to discuss that with you, you’ll always be there to listen and support. But, there’s zero desire to dig up painful memories and trigger this man. 

That doesn’t, however, mean you can’t reassure him when you can see there’s a level of anxiety and apprehension. 

“If I wasn’t, you and Dr. Young would be the first to know.” It’s a promise. You would never do anything to risk unnecessary complications with this pregnancy. “How do you feel? You look tired.”

He’s looked as such for the past couple weeks, and you feel slightly bad, knowing the whole Mariah ordeal must have taken a toll on him. Not to mention his intense training and preparation for WrestleMania.

Of course, he just shrugs, playing it off. “I’m good.” You make a knowing sound. “What?”

“Seriously, Joe. This is me. I know you like the back of my hand. You’re exhausted. It’s okay to admit as such.”

“I’m fine, Y/N. I promise.”

Joe is every bit stubborn as he is caring. He won’t agree with you, but that doesn’t make what you’re saying any less true.

“Whatever, just know I’m giving you a well deserved massage when we come to see you next week.” Coyly, you imply with a shrug of your shoulder. “And maybe a lil’ more depending on the layout of your place and if we can get some privacy from your lil’ twin.”

“Naw, that lil more is happening no matter what, even if I have to fuck you in the rental.”

His tone of surety makes you laugh as you think about something. “I don’t think we’ve ever fucked in a car before.” The list of places this man has been balls deep in you is endless, but a vehicle and plane seem to have not made the list. Yet. “Might have to change that.”

He also laughs. “Wherever you want it, baby, you just gotta tell me when and how.” Just more and more reasons to love this man to infinity and beyond. He matches your freak so well.

Joe asks about Callie, of course, and you let him know she’s in seven heaven playing with her cousin in her new room that’s gradually filling up even though she still doesn’t even have all of her stuff from back in your apartment. It also goes without saying that you remind him she’s absolutely thrilled to see him soon, the same as you, which is the same as him. Reunions between the three of you are just all around enjoyable.

Naturally, Joe apologizes, for no good reason, at not being able to come with you as you take Callie back to your hometown for your final apartment walkthrough and to close all other matters, officially making your move to Florida complete. It’s a bit of a bittersweet thing, leaving the place you grew up and have so many memories in. However, what’s ahead of you is so much better than what’s behind you. 

And while you would love Joe to be able to come too, it’s also not necessary.

Especially when he finds out what else is on your agenda before you say goodbye for good. 

Realizing your time with him could be cut at any moment, you decide it’s now or never to break the news to him. “There’s something I need to tell you, and I know right off the bat, you’re not going to be in agreement, but I need you to just hear me out.”

He’s hesitant and already skeptical but nods. “I’m listening.”

A deep breath followed by a quick prayer to the big man that Joe will at least try to be open to this plan. “I’m gonna go see my dad while I’m there.”

This is something you’ve really been thinking about, on and off, since the Christmas ordeal. It just hasn’t been such a major priority given all the other fires you’ve been having to put out. Alexis was right when she said the dynamic with your dad has a lot to do with the situation with Joe and not telling him about Callie.

And you being able to acknowledge that has made you realize you’ve been holding onto a lot of pain and anger towards that man. More pain than anything. And it’s time to let it go. The same way you’re leaving that town for good, albeit bittersweet, you need to drop the baggage of hurt at the door before the curtain closes permanently.

In this case, that means sitting in front of the man who is your biological father and nothing more, speaking your peace, and closing that chapter.

For good. 

To some extent, you expected, maybe more so hoped, for Joe to be more receptive. 

It was wishful thinking, at best.

Immediately, he protests, face turned up in a scowl that reminds you of Callie when she’s in one of her moods. “Like hell you—”

Closing your eyes, you do your best to keep your voice leveled. “Hear me out, please.”

“Y/N, do you not remember the last time you saw that man?” Most definitely do you remember. That was definitely a low moment for you. “You were a fucking wreck. I’m not seeing you go through that again, especially with you being pregnant.”

“Do you really think if I had even an inkling it wouldn’t be safe for our baby I’d be doing it? Come on, Joe. You know me. I would never put either of our children in harm's way.” And you know he knows this, knows this very well, but you can also understand his anxiety from a couple different angles. “Before when I saw him, I was still looking for his love and approval. I can admit that now.” It’s been a tough pill to swallow, going back and forth between emotion and logic, coming to grips with such an uncomfortable truth. “I don’t need that anymore. I don’t even want it. I have you. I have Callie. My mom. Our friends. Even this new baby, but if I’m leaving that town for good, I need to leave all of the hurt it brought me there too. That includes making my peace with him.”

When he still doesn't say anything, you continue to plead your case.

“I need to do this, Joe. I’m not asking you to understand.” You’re not quite sure he could. This is one of those things that unless you’ve lived it, lived with a neglectful, uninvolved parent, you just couldn’t get it. “I’m just asking you to trust me.”

He’s quiet for a few minutes, and you already know it’s because he’s sitting on your words, doing his best to meet you where you are. Eventually, he says in a resigned voice, “I don’t want you going alone.”

There’s an immense amount of gratitude for his blessing, and his request is more than fair.  You also figured as such, assuring him, “I already talked with Bianca about it. She’s gonna go with me.” 

This seems to make him feel at least a little bit better. He scratches his beard. “Alright. But the minute you start feeling off—”

“I’ll cut it off. I know.” That goes without saying. You meant what you said. Nothing could make you put your baby at risk. “Thank you, Joe.”

Not wanting this to be the last topic you discuss, you switch gears a bit to something that will hopefully lessen his unease. “I also think we should tell Callie when we come to see you next week. I just told the girls today, and I’m gonna tell my mom while I’m there. Callie deserves to know.” The order of which you’ve told people about your pregnancy isn’t exactly how you would have preferred it to go. In a perfect world, it would have been Joe, Calllie, your mom, and then your close friends. But, life be lifing, so you just have to roll with it as best you can. 

Joe nods. “I agree.” You overhear a distant voice in the background before his gaze falls on you. “I gotta go, babe.”

It’s hard not to feel disappointed. “I get it.” This pregnancy has your emotions a bit on the high, sensitive end, because there’s no reason for you to feel like crying just because this man has to get back to work. You miss him like crazy, sure, but this has always been a bit of the dynamic. You get him in doses, sometimes big, sometimes small. “Can we still call you tonight? You know Callie can’t sleep unless she can tell both of us goodnight.”

It’s such a twist, a beautiful, unexpected thing. Once upon a time, it was just you she needed to see and/or speak to before she could fall asleep. But now, it’s both you and Joe, and you honestly couldn't love that more. 

Their relationship and bond is so precious to you.

And now that you understand what Joe’s been through, you can see why he’s always willing to move heaven and earth for her. She’s the little girl he’s always wanted and finally has.

“Of course.” You weren’t expecting any other answer. “I love you.”

A warm smile sets on your face. “I love you too, baby.”

You settle on a time that works best for him and end the call. Ignoring the sadness at not being able to talk to him further, you walk back in the house for a sure pick-me-up.

“Well, it’s about time,” Bianca teases, dimples nice and pronounced. “Thought we were gonna have to check on ya’ll.”

“No, she’s back too early….” Alexis, as per usual, confuses you when she asks, “ya’ll weren’t having phone sex?” She curses and then grabs her purse, digging out her wallet, slapping a wad of cash into Jadah’s expecting hand.

“Told you,” Jadah says knowingly, smirk on her pretty face as she counts the cash. “One thing I do know about Joe is he’s an all out type of man. It’s rounds or nothing.” She then looks over at you, apologizing, “hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“It doesn’t.” It’s an honest answer. You’re old, mature, and secure enough to acknowledge and be okay with the fact your man has been with her in almost every way he’s probably been with you. Outside of the emotional connection component, which is really what matters the most to you. Sex would just be sex if you didn’t love him as much as you do. If he didn’t love you as much as he does. That’s what makes it so explosive. 

“Well, it bothers me!”  Kaylah looks so disgusted, and you can’t blame her. “Joe is literally like my brother!” 

Bianca cosigns with a shake of her head. “And it bothers me because Y/N literally is my sister.”

“That’s so wild, so ya’ll are half sisters, right?” Jadah asks, pointing between the two of you as you move back onto the sofa. “Same mom or…..”

“No, same dad, but we don’t claim him.”

Jadah makes an ‘O’ with her mouth as Alexis leans over to whisper something in her ear. “Got it. Daddy issues. Ya’ll should just jump him then.”

“That’s what I said! Stomp his ole’ mean ass.”

Yeah…..putting Alexis and Jadah together may have created a new kind of threat to society.

“Anyway.” Refocusing them is really the best and only option. “As we were discussing, ya’ll think I should bring it up to Joe when we fly there next week?” You then remember the pact mentality and aim your question toward Bianca. “Let me just ask you, cause you seem to be the only one who gets where I’m coming from.”

At that, Bianca opens and closes her mouth. “Oh. That. I…..I think you should just leave it alone. I’m sure Joe has his reasons.”

Now it’s your turn to look shocked. “What? That’s not what you said literally not even 10 minutes ago.”

Bianca switching up on you definitely wasn’t in the cards, especially since she was providing you all the affirmation and validation you were seeking in your dilemma. 

She looks off, almost in a guilty, sheepish way. “I changed my mind….”

“What did ya’ll say to her?” It’s directed toward Alexis and and even Jadah, because Kaylah doesn’t seem like the type to try to sway people one way or the other. “Can’t leave ya’ll asses alone for two minutes.”

“I don’t like your tone, Mama Mia. Watch it.” Alexis warns, and you can only roll your eyes. “What you need to be focused on is what you’re gonna wear to the Hall of Fame and WrestleMania.”

Kaylah gasps, also remembering. “Shit, I completely forgot about that.”

Your eyes land on her with premature excitement. “You’re going to the awards too?” She nods and you let out a big sigh of relief. “Oh thank god, I was kinda nervous. I’m sure Trinity is going too, but the more the merrier, I feel like I’m gonna be so out of place there or everyone’s going to hate me.”

“Girl, like Joe is going to let that happen.” Jadah is, surprisingly, the first one to jump to calm your nerves. “Him taking you in and of itself is such a ‘fuck you’ move. He really said ya’ll not about to bully the woman I love and think I’m finna just keep her on the backburner.”

“I agree.” Kaylah chimes, providing additional and useful context. “The internet wrestling community is a cesspool, and they’ll always find some reason to complain and bitch, but Joe has never been about that. He’s gonna have you on his arm regardless of who has something to say about it.” 

“Ummmm, why are we acting like majority of the internet isn’t all on Y/N’s dick now that ya’ll cleared up the air?” Alexis lifts her phone, adding, “I literally can’t get on TikTok or Twitter without seeing edits and photos of Y/N that the internet has dug up. They can’t get enough of her.”

“Her ass, specifically,” Jadah adds, and you shake your head. 

“I think what they’re trying to say is that maybe you should redirect your focus on fashion and hair choices vs public perception, because it seems to be in your favor currently.” Bianca’s advice is wise and on time. It also is very much giving off teacher vibes, just another thing you two can connect on.  

You’re really happy you asked her to come visit you. 

That you gave her a chance.

It’s proving to be a really good decision.

“Well, I’m gonna have my mom do my silk press while I’m there, so there’s that.” Typically, you avoid heat like the plague, sucking up the pain in the ass wash days to keep your curls hydrated and thriving. However, you’re okay with every now and then sitting in that damn chair for what feels like, and is, hours for these special occasions. And attending the Hall of Fame awards as well as WrestleMania definitely constitutes a special moment. “As far as fashion…..I have no idea. I don’t really have a lot of fancy clothes, and the ones I do have are before Callie and even now with the weight I’ve gained from this pregnancy already, I don’t know if I can still wear them.”

“Well then it’s obvious what we need to do.” Alexis says with a ‘duh’ tone. “We need to go find you some dresses! Like, today.”

“I probably do need to pick up something too.” Kaylah says with a heavy sigh. “I think Josh said something about wearing red.”

“Of course you have to wear red. That’s Bloodline colors.” 

You chuckle at Bianca’s enthusiasm. It’s kinda cool that she’s also into wrestling. You’re so tempted to ask Joe if he can get tickets for her, Darius, and Taylor, but you also don’t want to do too much. It already means a lot to you that he got tickets for your mom and Alexis. 

“I hate to pull the girls from their playing. They must be having a blast considering not one has come down in like over an hour.” It’s true. Not to mention you can also occasionally hear the chorus of giggles and shouting indicating just how great a time they’re having.

“I can watch them for ya’ll.”Jadah’s suggestion causes all sets of eyes to land on her. She rolls her eyes. “You all go get the shopping done, and I’ll stay here with the kids.”

“Jadah, you don’t have to—”

“I don’t mind. I’m not really that big on shopping anyway.” Finally. A difference between her and Alexis. “Plus, I have some client stuff I can get caught up with.”

You’re still reluctant, offering her another out. “If you’re sure….”

“Y/N, I would hope by now you’ve figured out I’m too blunt to lie. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to.” Jadah shrugs, directing her next statement to Kaylah and Bianca. “If you’re also good with it too, of course.”

Bianca and Kaylah echo agreement with you, hence it being decided.

With a chuckle, you announce, “I guess we’re going shopping.”

———-

Things have been hard since you first landed back in your hometown.

Saying goodbye to your students was hard. 

Saying goodbye to friends in town has been hard. 

Bidding farewell to the apartment you first brought your sweet little girl home to after she was born was very hard.

Visiting your grandma’s grave one last time for who knows how long…..that’ll be brutal.

But this….confronting your father for the last time…

To say you’re a bit on the anxious side is putting it nicely. 

This was always going to be on the nerve inducing side for a variety of good and valid reasons. It’s just getting to the moment where it happens, where you sit in the parking lot of the restaurant he agreed to meet “you” at is just bringing out some indecision you’re certain comes from a place of anxiety.

Finally stepping out of the car, you and Bianca reach the door of the restaurant when she turns to you, mouth turned into a bit of a frown as she reminds, “you sure you want to do this?”

“It’s not about what I want to do. It’s about what I need to do, Bianca.” It’s the truth. This isn’t something you’ve been dying to have happen your entire life, but for the sake of your healing, it’s what needs to happen. “But, if you feel uncomfortable, I totally get—”

“Not at all.” She reaches for your hand. “You’ve got this.”

A deep breath followed by a head nod as you accept her hand. She gives you a little squeeze and opens the door, leading the way figuratively and literally. As expected, he’s already there and waiting, sitting near the back of the restaurant. You’re not surprised a man like him is right on time. He seems like the punctual bastard type.

And Bianca has reiterated as such before. 

Together, you walk hand in hand towards him. Your eyes never leave him, watching as he lights up with a genuine smile at seeing Bianca, but that smile almost instantly drops when he sets his gaze on you.

Expected. 

Wholly expected.

Immediately, his nose is turned up in visible disgust, primarily directed toward you. “Bianca, what is the meaning of this?”

“What?” Her voice is full of nonchalance as is the expression on her face. “I told you your daughter wanted to speak with you.”

He just didn’t know which daughter.

There’s no denying or misunderstanding his anger at the subterfuge. He shoots up from the table. “I’m not putting up with—”

Bianca is quick with it, assertively informing him, “if you want even a chance of seeing Taylor again, you’re gonna sit right back down and hear her out.” It means the world to you that not only has Bianca agreed to be here with you today, but it’s the fact that she’s willing to be so loyal to you.

Like a sister.

Because she is your sister. 

He scoffs almost immediately. “Using my grandchild to blackmail me? That’s low, Bianca. Your mother and I raised you better than that.”

She crosses her arms and matches his energy. “You are the last person that needs to be talking about raising anyone.” She then looks at you, placing a comforting hand on your arm. “I’ll be right over there if you need me, okay?”

Nodding, she gives you one last supportive squeeze and ignores her father to walk over and slide into a booth across the room. 

Left alone, you watch him begrudgingly sit down so he’s across from you, same set of brown eyes locking. It kills you how much of yourself you can see in him, starting with the same set of eyes. You just have to remind yourself that that’s where the similarities end. 

“This won’t take long, which I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear.” He doesn’t agree nor disagree, not that it makes much of a difference to you. At all. “I’m moving from this town. Tomorrow’s the day I hand over my keys, and I’ll officially be living in Florida full time. Not that you care, because we both know you never have and never will give a flying fuck about me.”

“Is there a point to this?” The edge in his voice, maybe even a couple months ago, might have killed you. Stolen your joy. Now, it does nothing. He no longer has that power over you, because you’ve taken that power back. 

And it feels so damn good.

“I did it, you know.” Without giving him a chance, if he even would, to respond, you continue. “I made something of myself. I’m successful. I have a career. I found love all without you ever doing a goddamn thing for me.”

For a second, you swear you see a different emotion flash in his familiar irises, but it’s gone almost instantly, replaced with that permanent disdain you refuse to allow sway you from your goal.

“I have a man who loves me in every single healthy way that exists, who loves our daughter more than there are words in all the languages put together.” Emotion chokes you up, but you manage to stick with the mental points you made for this conversation. “And you wanna know something? We conceived her when he was still married.”

Leaning forward as you lower your voice, both for privacy and emotionality. “But, I didn’t tell him. I deprived him and our little girl for the first almost five years of her life because I was so scared that he was going to be like you, that he was going to reject her and hurt her the way you hurt me.”

It’s a bit painful for you to verbalize those words, but also so damn liberating to free them from the confines of your subconscious.

To also release those shackles they had on you. 

“But, I was so so so wrong, because he is the best damn dad she could have asked for, and he was angry with me for not telling him about her. He wanted to be in her life. He wanted her. And it’s through that I finally realized something.”

Your voice cracks as you finally release your truth and acknowledge freedom from over 30 years of emotional bondage.

“I’ve finally realized after all these years that it’s not that I’m not good enough for you.” You shake your head, pointing at him with all the intention and determination you can muster up. “You’re not good enough for me. Not good enough to be my dad. Definitely not good enough to be a grandfather to my kids. Not good enough to be in my life.” There isn’t an ounce of hesitation or a stutter in your voice. “It’s not that I don’t deserve to be in your life. You don’t deserve to be in mine. You never did, and you never will.”

And never again will you seek out that love and validation from him. You don’t need it. 

You never did.

“I actually feel sorry for you, because I am an amazing, strong black woman who was raised by an even more amazing, strong black woman who was also raised by a phenomenal black woman. And my daughter….” Just thinking about Callie, her warm smile and the great big hug she gave you, before you and Bianca left her and Taylor with your mom, makes you all choked up again. “—is the kindest, sweetest, smartest kid you could ever meet. But as long as there is breath in my body, you will not know her or any other kids I bring into this world.”

That’s a promise, an oath, a swear on everything that you love and hold dear.

“After today, you are dead to me, and I truly hope you one day see all that you missed out on, but I’m not going to wait around for that. I’m going to spend the rest of my life surrounded with love and family because that’s what I deserve.” Grabbing your purse and sliding out the booth, you make eye contact with Bianca who starts to head over. “Take care, Captain Wilson.”

As soon as she’s at your side, he shoots up from the booth. “Bianca, if you leave with that girl—”

“That woman,” Bianca corrects with all the sharpness. “You mean my sister?”

His lips turn up with a hateful snarl. “This hoodrat trash is not your sister.”

You actually laugh at his words, laugh at the fact that he’s truly so pathetic and a piece of shit he couldn’t even take any of what you just said to heart. It also makes you wonder if he’s aware of all the shit that’s been happening online regarding you. Not that it makes a difference.

It’s just something else he would try to use to justify not being in your life.

Like a coward.

“No.” She lifts her chin, taking your hand. “She is my sister, but you?” Bianca shakes her head, and you can hear the emotion catch in her voice. “You’re not my father. You’re the trash.”

If he offers a visible response to her harsh words, you’ll never know because Bianca tugs on your hand, directing the both of you to turn around as she marches you out the restaurant. Once out of the vicinity, she spins you around and brings you in for a big, loving hug.

“I’m so damn proud of you.” Eyes closing, you accept and lean into her embrace. You’re also insanely proud of you. “You said what you had to say. The ball is in his court now.”

“I highly doubt he’s gonna do anything with it.” Separating, you again thank her. “I really appreciate you being here with me today. I’m not sure Joe would have been okay with me doing this, if you weren’t here.”

She smirks, head tilted to the side. “Nowhere else I’d rather be, hun.”

It’s the truth. Along with the fact that you’re not even sure you would and even could have gone through with this if not for her assistance and support. It’s crazy how the people you’ve met in recent months have become such important figures in your life and the people you thought were important are now strangers.

Life….always a wild ride, for sure.

“And speaking of Joe….” She’s understandably confused as you casually throw out, “guess who’s going to WrestleMania with her little sister?”

Bianca’s eyes are as wide as saucers. “Seriously?” Laughing, you nod. “Oh my god—” She captures you in another big hug, the two of you nearly hopping like damn teenagers. “Wait, just me or—”

“Of course not. Taylor and Darius too. I feel like he might divorce your ass if you tried to go without him.”

“You’re not entirely wrong.” Her laughter lessens as she looks at you with admiration and appreciation. “You really didn’t have to do that, Y/N.”

“It wasn’t that big a deal.” And it wasn’t. After biting the bullet and pushing aside unnecessary anxiety, you just shot Joe a text asking if there was any way Bianca and her family could attend Mania. His response was an almost instant yes. “Besides….we’re sisters.” Your eyes begin to water as you give a one shoulder shrug. “We look out for each other.”

Her smile matches the emotionality of this moment. “You’re damn right we do.” Sniffling, she wipes her eyes and then gasps. “Shit, now I need to find a dress. Does this town have any stores where I could maybe find something?”

Her question is so laughable. “Not really, sis. Let’s just wait till we fly home. I’m sure we could find you something there. Maybe the boutique where I got my dresses."

Home…..

You’re not sure if you’ve referred to Florida as home prior to this moment, but it feels so good, so right. Like it’s where you’re supposed to be. Where you were always supposed to be. 

Home with your daughter, with your man, with the baby growing inside you.

With your family.

[cosmicmordecai]

Im so tired of the Ki-Adi-Mundi hate just because he is not in direct favor of some fandom favorites here:

It’s not crazy he didn’t believe Qui-Gon initially like DAMN that does sound crazy and unlikely if you really thought the Sith were dead for a millennia. This also ignores the fact that the Jedi Council believed his claim had merit , something FANDOM ignores in general because people were too focused the Council dared to tell True Jedi™️ Qui-Gon “no” on training Anakin & how “mean” they were to Anakin to realize Mundi was the one to point out the events undergone would draw out the Queen’s attacker (Maul) & Windu tasked Qui-Gon on unearthing the attacker & believed it was “the clue needed to unravel the MYSTERY of the SITH”.

It’s not his fault Ahsoka looked hella guilty & he believed it. It’s really hard not to say Ahsoka didn’t shoot herself in the foot when she went through all of Barris’s traps to make her look hells guilty, which included:

Killing Leta whole hiding her presence to implicate Asoka while having also told Leta prior Ahsoka would help her should she get in trouble before the operation to set her up.

Leading Ahsoka to escape a detention facility while making it look like she killed guards on her way out (mind you, it’s Clones making this call that she’s doing this) [Had Ahsoka stayed in it, she would of saved herself a LOT of the trouble she ended up in.]

Seen later conspiring with Ventress, a known war criminal with ties to the Sith & CIS. Like given Ventress wasn’t even of interest to the case initially, it literally didn’t help Ahsoka because it made her look even worse. Her only counter to that on trial was they had a “understanding”

She both resisted arrest & then was found in the same place that made the nanotech bombs used in the Temple bombing.

Like i’m sorry, I would of thought Ahsoka was guilty too if she weren’t a protagonist and we didn’t watched that unfolded . That is not Ahsoka or the Council fault because that was some methodical planning & improvising on Barris’s part, which is the real problem or one of the big ones on that arc.

Also, Mundi’s marriage is not the result of anything Lucas did when he was still spearheading nor is it involved in the actual canon stuff. The fact it’s dubious even in LEGENDS & never hinted in any of the big media should tell you a lot.And even if it was, its not a legitimate argument for Anakin. The Council in that alternate continuity gave that exception with caveats & expectations which Mundi adhered too under special circumstances involving birth rates, which is weird but a hella lot different situation then the notion Anakin can shoot his shot & be both married & adhere to Jedi commitments.

I mean really, Mundi is hated for daring to be a character whose idea contrasts other “favorited” protagonists & thinking he is a case of exceptionalism in contrast to someone who gets it way more often than he should.

[writingwithfolklore]

Writing Fictional News

              Eee this is one of my biggest pet peeves in movies, games, stories, anything… As someone who reads and edits a lot of news articles for my job, I can tell soo instantly when fictional news articles or broadcasts were written by someone who has never written news before. I’m constantly saying, “hmm, they’d never publish that.”

              So here’s what you gotta know about writing (fictional) news stories.

1. They’re to the point… but not like that

This is the biggest thing I see in fiction that has news in it. People tend to write headlines that have the worst, gory details. For example,

“Student Sadie Walker murdered by 50 stabbings last night.”

While dramatic (and informative), I don’t see this as a news headline. The same situation (Sorry Sadie) may actually be reported as,

“Young woman passed away after involvement in stabbing late last night.”

              While news articles are to the point and informative, remember that they’re written for the general public. We often don’t get the super gory details (at least, not in the headline).

2. They have a pretty specific voice

While most journalism is meant to be free of bias, news is the most importantly objective. This tends to result in articles written in a more formal tone. They also follow a structure: the most specific details to the most general.

              Imagine you’re writing a piece that you’re expecting the reader to drop out at any moment. The headline is the attention grabber so your first line has the most important details of the story, so that someone can read it and know the jist.

Following our example, the first paragraph might be,

“Last night in June County a young woman was found unconscious, having suffered severe injuries. The woman was identified as Sadie Walker, a 21-year-old student attending June County University nearby. According to police reports, Walker had been walking between campus and the student dorms around midnight when she was struck and stabbed 30-50 times in the chest and back. Walker was found by a peer returning home an estimated hour after the attack and taken straight to Red Mill General hospital, where she passed away shortly after. The perpetrator is still unknown at this time.”

       Remember the 5 W’s and 1 H. Your first few lines should inform the reader of Who, What happened, Where did it happen, When did it happen, how it happened, and maybe why if you know—though since news is so timely, often the answer isn’t known right away.

3. Where the article is found in the news is telling

While a story like our example might make the front page of the paper (especially if nothing else is really going on in June County), only one story can make this top spot. Some papers are divided between the top and bottom of the page, known as “above the fold” and “below the fold”. It’s a bit more traditional format, but the ‘above the fold’ spot is the best one, because that’s the story people see when they’re passing by the newsstand, while ‘below the fold’ is another important story making the front page, but one would have to pick up the paper and unfold it to read it.

Not to mention all the stories found inside the paper. Consider how important your article is--not to your characters/plot, but to the general society your fictional newspaper is serving. Would your MC’s win at the local dog competition make the front page of big city news?

Any other news writers on here? What did I miss?

[mybworlds]

THE GLADIATOR

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader (no use of Y/N) | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: You and Marcus Acacius loved each other until society didn't separate you.

Warnings: no use of Y/N, use of you, some smut elements, some historical aspects may not be entirely accurate.

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Thx for the dividers @saradika-graphics

"This story began a few years ago, when I was little more than a girl, when I was a gorgeous creature wrapped in fluffy, fragrant clothes. . "

You were the daughter of a rich merchant, you didn't miss anything, you were always finely dressed, full of jewelry, you always have manicured hair and arranged in complicated hairstyles, you had dozens of servants who accompanied you everywhere. The only time you were free is when you slept or when you pretended to sleep and took advantage of it to sneak out the window and run away.

It was so nice to run on your steed and took in the scents and smells of the night, the silence of the night, when there were only stars to keep you company.

When you were far from Rome, you slowed down the race of your horse until you reach Marcus Acacius' villa, he was known only as General Acacius, no one could call him Marcus. He was a very powerful man, esteemed and feared by everyone. Except you. For you it was always just Marcus, the man you learned to love.

You and Marcus met during one of the many banquets organized by your father in your domus and immediately he attracted your attention for his stern look, his dark eyes and his proud posture. That evening, although from afar, because the banquet was intended only for the powerful men of the city, you didn't miss the opportunity to spy on him from around more corners of your domus. You still remember how his eyes immediately found yours and how his lips bent slightly upwards, while you hid embarrassed by being caught in the act of spying him.

That same evening you introduced yourselves, and a strong bond was immediately established between the two of you, which was seen with great enthusiasm by your father who encouraged your union, and he was delighted to be able to marry his daughter to one of the strongest generals in Rome.

Surely your father could not imagine that you would not wait for the sacred moment before the gods to consume your love.

"Marcus. . ." you sighed in his arms as he made love with you.

"My love," he whispered in your ear and kissed you until your lips turned red as a rose.

When your union was still frowned upon from all over Rome, you and Marcus could walk together during the public holidays, during the clashes organized at the Colosseum. You shook your hand tight, his big, strong hand wrapped around yours, and his single handshake was enough to make you feel safe, and his safe, sweet look made you feel like the strongest, most beloved woman in the Empire, then disaster and officially the end of your union.

Things were still going well for your father, but as a result of a bloody and violent battle that saw the Empire as a defeated party, Marcus was captured and enslaved and your father’s fortune ceased.

You were forced to leave your domus and you moved to the countryside, your jewels and your riches gradually were sold to allow you to survive, you had no more slaves who followed you everywhere. Now you were forced to clean weapons and armor before the fighting in the Colosseum to survive, your thoughts always went to him, to Marcus.

Many moons had passed since you last saw him, you hoped with all your heart that he was well and that he had not forgotten you.

One day, the Chief of Guards escorted into a heap of slaves, and your eyes immediately recognized Marcus, despite his skin covered in dry blood and dust, despite his hair being tangled in a tangle of dark curls of soil, despite no longer wearing the armor with his coat of arms on. When you saw him, your heart lost a beat and you had to make a huge effort not to run towards him and embrace him. He recognized you too, his gaze did not lie, he wanted to tell you something, you saw him, but the Chief of Guards imposed them the line and silence before putting back in chains the survivors from the last clashes.

Before leaving, the Chief of Guards approached you and slapped you on the ass and said that if he found you there later he would fuck you to death, you swallowed, but you didn't say nothing. When you were finally alone, you ran to the slaves and ran to him, throwing your arms around his neck and hiding your head in the crook of his neck. He could barely lay his hands on your back because of chains, but he kissed you and looked at you full of sadness and love.

"My love. . ." you whispered, putting your hands in his hair before kissing him again.

Your kisses were desperate, a couple of times you missed tears. You wished that time and misfortune had not rowed against you and that he had granted you the way and the time to be together, but the gods had not been on your side.

One night, you managed to sneak into the prisons and at that time there was no one controlling the slaves. You looked for him in the cell where all the others were gathered as in the previous days, but that night he was not there. Milo, one of the slaves forced to fight like Marcus, was now aware of your relationship and your desperate love and so told you where you could find him.

Marcus was in a separate prison, he was isolated from the others, his chest was bare and full of obvious signs of whipping, there was a torch that barely lit the cell, when he saw you, his look was different, he seemed worried and scared. That night he was tied by a wrist only and, like other nights, you ran to meet him and hugged him. He embraced you even more than other nights.

"You came," he said in your ear.

"I wanted to see you, how are you?" you asked him looking for his eyes.

He looked at you sad, "I need you to promise me something," he said.

"Anything you want," you replied, looking for his dark eyes.

"Tomorrow look for Juba, you find him at the gates of the city and say my name, he will take you away from Rome," you wrinkled your forehead and were about to reply, but he went on "he will get you a ride and allow you to find a safe place to live. From there, stand up for yourself, dance, sing, but get out of here. Do you understand?"

"My love, but then I wouldn’t see you anymore! Why? I don’t understand." he kissed you, it was a different, desperate kiss.

He drew you to him by sitting on the stone seat behind him, your mouths slowly devoured, "Promise," he whispered between kisses, "Swear,"

"I swear," you said kissing him as you could and stroking him with the delicacy of a feather, "I love you, I would do anything," you said.

He laid a hand in your hair looking for your eyes, "I wish our lives were different, I wanted to treat you like a queen, make you live in luxury, I wanted to see your belly grow and see my son come into this world. . ."

"Sssh, please don’t talk. . We will. When you are free, you will see your child come into the world, my love."

He closed his eyes with an almost desperate expression, "Marcus. . ." He opened his eyes, "Fill me, I want you here," you say, carrying his hand over your belly, "There will be your son."

Until that moment your intercourses had never ended with his release inside you, but not that night, that night you tried to be silent and you tried not to moan conspicuously when his cock filled you completely, "I love you, baby. I always loved you." he said between groans.

"I love you too so much, please don’t leave me alone in this world," you pleaded desperately, as his release filled you with painting the inner walls of your pussy.

"I will never forget you, as long as I live, as long as I live you and my son will be my only thought." he said to you going even deeper inside you, it almost hurt you, but you didn’t say anything, you limited yourself to stay with him inside you and to kiss him until your breaths allowed it.

"Please, join me when you are free. I wait for you. Forever."

His expression was unequivocal and his eyes filled with tears, he didn't answer, but he only nodded before kissing you again and again.

The morning came and you were forced to go, not before exchanging one last intense look. You never saw him again, never again.

"Outside the walls, there was really the man who Marcus indicated me, there was no need to say anything but his name and I left, I came here in this beautiful country house, surrounded by Spring flowers and I waited for you, my little one, to come into this world."

Your story was over. You found yourself fighting tears before looking your son in the face, before meeting the same dark eyes as Marcus, "You know, your daddy was a very brave man and he always fought for what he believed in." you smile bitterly, "Now rest, my son." you said, stroking his dark curls like his daddy’s.

"Good night, mommy." he said before you blew out the candle.

You came out of your house and went to the hill from which you saw Rome from far, far away. It was your way of looking at what you were sure was Marcus' grave.

"I will see you again," you whisper "But not yet, not yet. . ."