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dear-aubade · 1 day ago

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Kisses After Midnight

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader Smut

Summary: Joel gets back from a long patrol in the middle of the night. It’s clear that his baby missed him very much.

Notes: smut, sub!reader, soft!dom!joel, praise, dirty talk, unprotected piv, Joel calls reader every pet name in the book, teasing, slight orgasm denial, dd/lg vibes sorta (but no use of ‘daddy’), let’s play a game called how many times can the author use the word ‘sweet’ in one fic

For it being the end of the world, you and Joel had a pretty good life. He’d been in Jackson for about eight months—eight months in which he gave his heart to the sweetest little thing to ever walk the earth.

Your very existence seemed to be a mockery of the times you lived in. You were soft and sweet, edges not yet roughed. He didn’t know how you’d gone so long staying as doe-eyed as you did—hell, he didn’t know how you ended up with him. He felt far too…jaded. Far too rough to be with someone so beautiful and untainted.

And yet, you were drawn to him. He still remembered the first day you knocked on his door, asking in your honey-sweet voice, I told Maria I’d give you a tour of the town. Is that alright, Mr. Miller? Oh, he’d just about died then.

Things only took off from there. Something would break in your house, and he’d be called over to fix it. Then you would bring him some bread you baked as a thank you, and then he’d say, Well this is too nice, darlin.’ Why don’t you let me return the favor by putting some shelves up in your living room? He’d seen the piles of books at your bedside—your love of reading deserved to be displayed.

Somewhere along the way, you and Joel just…fit. Something clicked, and soon he was moving into your pretty little house, placing kisses to your pretty little lips, waking up pressed against pretty little you.

Yes, for the end of the world, you and Joel were doing quite nicely.

Except on long patrol days, that is. Oh, Joel knew how much you hated it. Now that you’d gotten used to sleeping in Joel’s arms you didn’t want to give it up, not even for a single night.

But Joel had a part to play in the community—he couldn’t stop working, no matter how much he wished he could spend all his time with you. He’d press kisses to your quivering bottom lip, murmuring reassurances that he would be back the very next night.

Which brought him to now. He’d spent a day and a half out in the cold with Tommy scanning for Clickers, thinking about his princess the entire time ice and wind battered his face. Finally, after a day and a half without seeing you, he was shaking the snow off his jacket and stepping inside your shared home.

Joel was quiet as he took off his shoes and shed his outer layers before heading upstairs. Once inside your room he stripped down to his cotton t-shirt and boxers, then slid under the covers beside you. He wrapped his large arm around your body, pulling you into him and was delighted to find you were wearing nothing but one of his shirts. He nuzzled the top of your head with his nose, then placed a kiss in your hair. “Hey there, sleepyhead.”

You let out a soft yawn, still groggy and half-asleep. “Hm?”

He chuckled lightly and kissed your cheek. “Wake up, pretty baby.” Normally Joel would never wake you up in the middle of the night, but you had explicitly asked him to do so every time he got back from a long patrol. He still remembered your teary eyes the morning after the one time he’d tried to let you sleep and just greet you in the morning. He’d never tried again after that.

Now you began to really stir, blinking your eyes as you looked up at him with a soft, sleepy pout that he wanted to kiss. However, it melted away when your eyes grew a little more alert. “Joel?”

He brushed the hair from your face. “Mhmm. I’m home,” he whispered before kissing you soundly on the mouth. He pulled away just slightly, eyes dancing over your face. “I missed my gorgeous girl’s eyes…and those lips, especially.”

You leaned up to plant another firm kiss to his mouth before holding to him, nuzzling your face into his neck, letting out a soft breath of something almost like relief.

He kept you pressed to the warmth of his body, “Was my little girl lonely ‘round here?” he murmured, rubbing your back gently.

You nodded into his neck. “Missed you.”

He chuckled, kissing your neck, holding you close. “I’m right here now.” His sweet thing. His nose brushed along your jaw and neck, taking in your scent. “Let me ease that pretty little mind a bit, hm?”

Your breath hitched and you nodded, eyes getting a little more glossy…

“C’mere, babygirl…” he whispered, cradling the back of your head to pull your lips to his. Joel’s hands roamed over the curves of your body, mapping out each and every familiar piece of you, his palms warm and strong against your skin. He nibbled at your bottom lip until you parted your mouth in a gasp to allow his tongue to slip inside.

Joel soon broke the kiss, panting softly before he started trailing his lips down your throat and collarbone, nibbling and sucking as he went. “Missed that pretty little voice,” he murmured in that low voice of his. “Can you use it again for me sweetheart?” Joel knew how you got when he spoke to you like this. He knew you would be putty beneath him in no time.

You nodded, letting out a strained, “Mhmm.”

Joel pressed your back to the mattress so you were looking up at him. “Use your words, babygirl,” he reminded, dipping to kiss up your throat again. “Or do I need to make you?” His teeth caught on the sensitive skin below your jaw.

You gasped. “I-I can use ‘em.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, pulling away to look at your face, studying your expression. His fingertips brushed the edge of your neckline. “Can I take all this off, baby?”

You nodded, eyes big and wide. “Yes Joel, please.”

He let out a short, breathy chuckle. “So polite.” With that he got to work, pulling the shirt over your head with one swift tug, leaving you bare beneath him. He looked you over greedily, tracing his hands over your sides, squeezing your thighs, making you squirm. “Oh, sweetheart,” he groaned, eyes falling over your body. “Look at my sweet baby.”

You let out a soft whine of impatience, but Joel cut you off. “Ah—you gonna be a good girl?” He knew you would be. You always were. He just liked hearing it from your strawberry lips.

You nodded, eyes doe-like. “Yes, promise!”

He smiled. “Always listen so well for me.” He sat up a little to remove his own shirt and throw it to the floor, but swiftly leaned back down to kiss you deeply. You tasted like honey on his tongue and his hands slipped along your sides to rest on your hips, locking you in place.

You uselessly tried to buck against his strong hold, trying to press the apex of your thighs closer to his, but he was having none of it. He chuckled. “Needy girl…always gotta have me ‘s close as possible, hm? So greedy, baby.” His sentence was punctuated by a nip to your neck.

“Jus’ missed you.”

“I know darlin��, I know.” Such a soft, sweet voice you had. He met your big, glassy eyes as his fingertips dragged along your neck….your collarbone…until he grasped one of your breasts with his large hand.

He silenced your gasp with his kisses. His sweet girl—so sensitive, you were. You whimpered into his mouth as he brushed his thumb over the peak of your breast.

How had he been apart from you so long?

You were aching. Joel always likes taking his time with you, you knew that, but sometimes all you wanted him to do was pin you down and ravish you instead of playing you like his favorite instrument, stringing his fingers along each little spot that would make you sing….

Joel’s warm mouth closed around your breast and you let out another soft whimper as he flicked his tongue over the peak. Your hands were in his hair, threading through the salt-and-pepper curls while his tongue and teeth were at work.

Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore. “Joel,” you whined, voice quivering.

“Don’t worry pretty girl, I’m gonna give you what you need.” His fingertips dragged down the center of your tummy, drifting farther and farther below…

“Oh,” Joel cooed, and you moaned softly as his fingers dipped into your wetness. “You’re so ready for me, sweetheart.”

You felt like you could cry from the need, the white hot flames that needed to be fanned and then extinguished. “Joel—”

“I’ll take care of you, darlin’. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”

His thumb found purchase on your bundle of nerves and you keened, arching your back, trying to get closer closer closer while he stoked the fire between your legs. He held you the whole time, murmuring how beautiful you were, how pretty your little voice was, how good you were being for him.

You could feel yourself slowly unraveling; the thread of your very being was fraying, coming apart as you climbed higher, higher—

He removed his hand.

Oh, you whined at that, your climax being ripped away so cruelly and carelessly. “No, no, Joel I—”

“Shh, shh baby.” He quieted your protests with a kiss. “I just had to get you ready for me—want you to finish around my cock.”

His bluntness made you squirm, and you’d been so lost in your pleasure that you hadn’t realized you could feel his hardness against your hip, thick and heavy.

Joel shucked down his boxers and tossed them to the side while you lay there waiting, aching for that fullness you knew so well—

You squealed as he tapped the wet tip of his length against the bud atop your slit.

He chuckled and silenced your high-pitched noises with gentle shushing. “I gotcha, honey,” he murmured.

Then he slid inside.

Joel let out a soft groan next to your ear as he fully sheathed himself within your wetness. “So tight for me baby—“ He cut off with another grunt, sliding out before pushing right back in.

He was so big, his strong arms holding you as he rocked his hips, filling you up, up, up until you swear you could feel him in your tummy. Your walls clenched against him, breath hitching with every thrust.

“My baby,” he crooned, ducking his head to kiss along your neck and shower you with praises as he held you to him. “My sweet babygirl. Missed you so much out on the trail, thought about your pretty little pussy the whole time—”

Your head fell back with a gasp as the tip of Joel’s hardness tickled that spot deep inside that had your toes curling.

He chuckled. “Is that the spot, baby?” He pointedly thrust again, making you moan, and grinned knowingly. “Oh, I think it is, hm?” He picked up his pace again, hitting that spot over and over and over.

You felt something start to coil in your lower belly, something familiar and white-hot. Joel reached down to rub circles into your clit, which made you let out a high-pitched whimper and clench around his length.

You were babbling mindlessly, thoughts empty save for him and how good he was making you feel. “Joel, Joel, I—oh please—I need—”

“I know what you need babygirl.” His teeth caught on your earlobe as he kept his pace. “Can feel—fuck—can feel you clamping down on me. You gonna finish for me already?”

You nodded, your lips parted in a silent gasp of need, eyes big and wide as you whined out a desperate, “Mhmm!”

You bucked your hips into his, and this time when you felt your legs tighten, your breath fail, your tummy coil, Joel murmured hushed affirmatives you your jaw and neck and ear—

You cried out as you fell over the edge. Your back arched, your muscles seized, and your vision blurred with overwhelmed tears as you felt the warmth of Joel finishing inside you soon after.

“That’s it sweetie—fuck, so good for me, such a good girl falling apart on my cock, taking me so well—”

You were letting out desperate needy noises, his name falling from your lips like a prayer as the crackling heat lingered.

“I know, I know,” he murmured, claiming your lips, swallowing your whines with his mouth. “You did so good baby, so good….look at you, my pretty girl, my baby….”

Your body went lax, melting against him, each coo and murmur bringing you deeper under.

“That’s it…I’ve gotcha…” Joel maneuvered you as if you were light as a feather so that you were laying side by side, still connected, him still thick and warm inside of you.

Completely blissed out, you nuzzled into his chest, relishing in the feeling of his strong arms around you. Your eyes drooped.

“Tired already, babygirl?”

“Mmm.”

Joel hummed and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “That’s okay, darlin’. Just fall back to sleep. I’ll be holdin’ you the whole night through.”

Soon the fog overtook your mind completely and you drifted off, comforted by the knowledge that your Joel was home again.

#bambi writes #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #n$4w #joel miller smut #the last of us #joel miller

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bogor-o · 23 hours ago

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OKAY so first off my narilamb au is specific to my lamb n nari bc 🤪 but imma start off w/ an incomprehensible copy/paste of a ramble i had

all these ramblings are still rough but u kno!!!!

it's a bridgerton au specific 2 my narilamb(ovidia/narinder) where the bishops would be the closest to the bridgerton family equivalent and Shamura being the head of family trying to help their siblings find courtship so they will be set but narinder would be the most difficult of them all because hes stubborn and convinced that being married would make him miserable and every season hes had several interested suitors but hes rejected them all until he comes across ovidia, now considered a spinster after several unsuccessful seasons because all their previous suitors found them too high maintenance and itd be no different with narinder but itd be similar to bridgertons kate/anthony situation and they're so into eachother it makes them look fucking stupid!!!!

ALRIGHT now to get more into it, as far as family and dynamics go, obviously with Shamura being the head of the family they very meticulously keep things in order and its why their considered one of the most affluent families and they've very easily found partnership because it was probably more business than anything but it works for them, and when time came for kallamar to start looking it was smooth because of how enthused he was, and it was really obvious with him how many wanted in

the way i see it, nothing is strictly monogamous, but it's seen as "lower class" to have too many spouses because the merging of so many families is probably seen as greedy, desperate, something something for one reason or another-- that said, kallamar definitely has multiples, and if not for being such a prestigious family and shamuras own reputation, it couldve been worse so they got a freebie there

but with narinder, having seen the way his brother is with his spouses vs the way shamura is with theirs, hes seen an instance of a loveless business deal in one, and complete obsession to the point of disregarding everything else that hes so fucking disinterested in courtships especially in the way its been presented to him

hed be able to hold off shamura long enough to get away with putting off courting anyone, a lot of it having to be about "focusing on his studies and career" and while hes had PLENTY of potential suitors come knocking but he's always turned them away but when time comes for heket to debut its when the pressure is really on for narinder

THEN on the flipside there ovidia who has been insistent on taking on every role in their family, the head of which is the oldest matriarch who has yet to decide on who the next head will be and they have TRIED to court people but every potential suitor has just not lived up to the impossible standards theyve set but even WHEN theyre about to settle- something goes wrong and the courtship sinks and its always on the others terms

their family is large, but theyre only wealthy in the sense that such a large family that sticks together can hardly fail when everyone does their part. that alone make their name well known even if its unconventional

its at the start of the latest season that they try again where they first meet narinder and while everything almost seems perfect, the chemistry is almost instant but then they get a little too candid and ovidia talks too much about their situation and it triggers the part of narinders brain that fears becoming like shamuras marriage and a scathing remark both stuns and pisses off ovidia

one second everything is amazing, they seem to be on the same wave length, strong goals the other respects, even finding an initial attraction in the other but then he opens his mouth and theyve had it

they blow up at him and suddenly everything he does pisses them off and they'll start nitpicking everything about him and be right and their observations piss him off and then he starts going off on them along the lines of "i can see now why each season passes you by" to which ovidia is ready with a "as though your own haven't? one is left wonder if studying is why you've put off finding a spouse, or if that mouth of yours is to blame"

it self destructs right then and there and while they have no intention to cross paths again, of course they do

and it becomes some kind of pissing contest to find a spouse before the other does just to prove a point to the other than they CAN in fact find one and they both end up sabotaging each other unintentionally bc theyre still so into each other and in the short time they've gotten to know the other and even through the bickering it becomes apparent theyve put effort to remember things

its stupid, its messy, its what it is and im still thinking about it more.............

#botalks #idk what name id actually give this but its an au none the less!!!#narilamb

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myownwholewildworld · 2 days ago

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Love is heartbreak

↪ a the age of adaline inspired fic

pairing: marcus acacius x ageless!f!reader. summary: kissed by the goddess juno on your day of reckoning, you are brought back to life, condemned to wander the earth for a century. until you meet the other half of your soul who offers you the life you yearn for. but will you be strong enough to accept such promise? author's note: yes, i've cheated on my other wips, I'M SORRY. but when the angst and romance call, i can only answer - i am only human afterall. hope you like this little story that was supposed to be a drabble but ended up being this long, oops! comments and reblogs appreciated. enjoy! x warnings: 18+, mdni. soulmates trope. angst, romance, smut. mild breeding kink (soz). infidelity. mention of SA (not by Marcus) and death. dual pov. reader is female and a blank slate. reader is close to 150 years old (stopped ageing in her twenties) and Marcus is in his fifties. not beta'd and very lightly proofread, apologies if you spot any mistakes lol wordcount: ~8.4k. divider by @\saradika-graphics

“I’ll do anything to stay by your side, amica mea (my beloved). I don’t care about what the future holds if it’s not with you,” Marcus’ broad hands held yours, his thumb drawing invisible circles on the back of your hands.

You hated this — how your heart twisted inside you, torn apart by the choice you had to make. Was this never-ending life not enough punishment? No, you also had to go through heartbreak — your own and Marcus’. For love, you had to.

With eyes averted, you looked down at your worn sandals. Tears teetering on the edge of your waterlines as your vision became blurry with sadness, regrets and fears washed over you like the Tiber kissing the shore goodbye.

In your hundred years wandering the ground beneath your feet, you never had to go through this. Always so careful not to feel, not to grow close to anyone, not to really live the life you wanted, and now you were in a position where it almost felt too real.

Within reach — you only had to extend your hands and hug him in a tight, soothing embrace. Only needed to accept the life that Marcus was offering. Though as much as you wanted to—you wanted it, him, so badly—you could never.

And what was worst, you couldn’t explain why. First you would see the horror in his eyes, that frightened look glittering, then incomprehension, and finally disgust. Your heart couldn’t take it.

“But I do care, Marcus. Yours is bright, your military career is about to take off. I would only hinder you, your dreams. I am no one, and—” you tried to reason with him.

But love was blind. Love was deaf. Love didn’t care about impossibilities, because love was defiant.

At least his was.

“Do you think I care about being disowned? Do you truly believe that I would choose such dreadful life over you? Over a wonderful life with the person I love most?” Marcus squeezed your hands before one of his found your chin, tilting up your face to him. “Omnia vincit amor, et nos cedamus amori (love conquers all, let us too yield to love).”

You shook your head in denial, his words ringing in your ears like chants of war. Because Marcus waged war in all aspects of life, even in love — he’d conquered your heart so fully, you’d never asked him to return it. It would forever be his to cherish, to cry over, to destroy, to hate.

Because he would need to hate you to overcome the heartbreak you were about to cause.

“You don’t have a choice here. You are to marry the lady your family has arranged for; her family’s prestige will do you good. You’re just infatuated, Marcus, it isn’t true love,” you forced yourself to let a soft laugh out, wiping your tears as you took a step back. “At least, for me, it isn’t.”

Marcus’ expression folded and your heart with him. You hated yourself for saying such a vile lie, but a necessary one. The passage of time would not affect you, always stagnant in your early twenties after a fateful day when Juno decided to save your life from certain death. The Goddess of love and marriage was also one known for Her eternal youthfulness — one She would only share with those who had been wronged. And you had been so wronged in your mortal life.

And here you were, so close to committing the same mistake all over again. But you knew better this time — not because you didn’t trust Marcus, but because Fate was capricious. It didn’t matter if Juno was watching over you.

“You don’t mean that. I know you don’t. This is true love, lux mihi (my light), one that would live through eternity,” Marcus muttered breathlessly, reaching for you again, looking for that unbreakable connection you both strongly shared.

“Eternity? Don’t speak of things you don’t understand, Marcus,” you retorted, forcing your tone to sound mocking.

Another step back with an unmovable expression and you saw realisation dawning on him. Slowly like a river widening its meanders, steady like the constant flow of water. Relentless you were, steadfast in your resolution.

“Ave atque vale (hail and farewell), Acacius,” were your last words to him.

35 years later...

“Father, may I marry her?”

Marcus gazed down the dining table, eyeing his son with consideration. He knew what it felt like, how true love messed up your head to the point of madness. He had felt that way only once in his life, and it wasn’t for the woman sitting beside him.

As cruel as it sounded, Marcus never loved his wife, because his heart belonged to someone else — the now hazy memory of a woman who always lingered on the edges of his mind. A cruel reminder of how feeble and fleeting love was, how love turned into heartbreak with just a few words.

“At least, for me, it isn’t.”

That sentence alone had broken him, his ability to feel some sort of romantic connection died that very same day. At night it would haunt him, filling his dreams with nightmares. The same scene playing over and over in his mind, his heart cracking even more every time those words would hit him.

He’d waited for weeks, months. A year it took him to realise you truly were not coming back, that you meant it. He’d only been a plaything for you, a toy you discarded once things got too real. And at that point he surrendered to the pressure his family put on him. Marcus had followed through with the arranged marriage in the end, despite the agony and the empty hole in his chest.

And now his son was following in his footsteps. His heir looked so much like him, like a reflection of the past staring back at him. It pained him — he saw himself in Magnus, almost as if the roles had reversed and he was his own father thirty-five years ago. Pleading, asking to marry the love of his life even though his hand had already been promised in holy matrimony to another.

His wife, Prisca, waved one of her hands with disdain, the spoon clattering on the porcelain plate.

“Nonsense, Magnus,” she tutted at their son. “We’ve already been through this. You will marry Verina. You’d put us in a very compromised position with Gellius if you don’t.”

“But—”

“Quit your whining and man up, my son. Gellius is the Emperor’s best counsellor. It will bring our family great reputation,” Prisca reasoned, tone poisoned with greed. “And riches.”

“Father?” Magnus’ eyes shot to his, pleading him to intervene.

Marcus sensed Prisca stiffening besides him, gripping the arms of the chair like a vice. He didn’t look in her direction but knew how her orbs distilled venom. She would never understand what their son was talking about, but he did. Too damn right.

“I would like to meet her before giving you my blessing,” he spoke calmly, lacing his hands together on top of the wooden table.

Magnus’ eyes sparked up, a hopeful smile curling his mouth.

“Of course, of course! She’s waiting right outside,” and then his son hurried out of the room.

Prisca stood up, the screeching noise of the chair’s legs irritating Marcus.

“Like father, like son,” she muttered maliciously before disappearing too.

In this moment of silent respite, Marcus pinched the bridge of his hooked nose. The patience he had to muster was titanic. His life had been nothing but heartache and war, his son being the only reason he stood by his wife’s side in public. He’d tired of the pantomime, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

He would meet the woman who had stolen Magnus’ heart, just to make sure there was no deception from her part. Marcus wouldn’t wish for his son to go through the same heartbreak as him. If everything was at it should, then he wouldn’t oppose.

“Father,” Magnus called, and Marcus removed the hand from his exhausted, battle-scarred face.

His heart literally stopped.

A warm smile softened your expression when Magnus asked you to join his family in the dining hall. You had been sitting patiently in a small waiting room, wondering if this was right.

The first time you had laid eyes on Magnus a week ago, your heart jolted, and your mind went blank. He reminded you so much of your one and only true love, the one you ditched thirty-five years ago because you were too afraid to embrace the beautiful life he had offered you. The one you still felt in your heart, dormant yet very present in your everyday life.

Perhaps it was wrong of you to encourage this situation, whatever this was. When Magnus had asked you that morning to join his family for supper, he had caught you off guard, so you found yourself agreeing to it.

Deep down you knew why you hadn’t disappeared yet: you wanted to live this moment one more time. Wanted to remember how it felt to be loved so fiercely by Marcus, a yearning you’d been craving for over three decades. Only this man wasn’t Marcus, only someone who was his spitting image.

One dinner, a few hours more of playing pretend, and then you’d vanish again. Leave Rome behind after such brief visit before someone recognised you. You couldn’t afford to give any explanations, so you’d only visit this place once every decade.

You walked behind Magnus, head slightly bowed and hands laced in front of you. Magnus’ broad body blocked your vision, but soon enough he stepped aside to introduce you.

You curtsied, eyes averted, fixed on the marble slabs.

Before you straightened your back and introduced yourself, the man across the room spoke your name — your real birthname.

Inevitably, your heart sank to your belly with panic and your eyes quickly drifted up to meet the darkened ones you once had allowed yourself to swim in.

Marcus. Your Marcus.

Your heart raced in your chest and filled with pure joy. You couldn’t stop the smile that had started curling your lips nor the glassiness of your eyes.

Your one and true love was staring back at you with widened, tired eyes. He had gotten up off his chair and was striding towards you before he suddenly halted a couple of meters away from you with confusion painting his handsome features. Ones that had not remained impassible to the passage of time and war, but ones that you daydreamed about every single day without fail.

So within reach — you would only need to close the distance between you two and hug him, hug him till dawn and never let go. Oh, how much you missed him, how much you still loved him. With your whole heart, the one that ached and wept with regret in your chest right now.

Would he love you back? Did you break the love you shared past the point of mending?

“What? Her name is Aurora, father,” Magnus chuckled nervously, his eyes dancing between the two of you, puzzled. “This is the woman who has stolen my heart. I would like to marry the love of my life with your blessing.”

Your eyes flew from Marcus to Magnus at the revelation, bewildered. Marriage? Was this what it was all about, the purpose of his invitation to meet his family? Marcus’ son wanted to marry you?

You had not seen that coming, as it wasn’t your intention at all. You had only wanted to live this fleeting fantasy of yours for a few days, but there wasn’t love. Not like the one you felt for Marcus, that could never compare.

“Your name is Aurora?” Marcus’ question forced you to look in his direction, your heart twisting maddingly inside you. You nodded with hesitation, “I thought you were…” Marcus pronounced your real name again, the sinking pit of your stomach churning.

“That was my mother,” you quickly came up with a lie. You could never tell him the truth.

“Your mother,” he repeated slowly, shock and pain transforming his beautiful face. “I knew your mother.”

“What? Really?” Magnus intervened with a laugh, palming his father’s shoulder. “That’s such a coincidence!”

You looked at both of them, but your eyes inevitably lingered on Marcus’ darkened ones. Would he believe your lie? Again?

“The resemblance with her is… uncanny. You look so much like her, Aurora,” Marcus rasped, taking a step back and steeling his posture with determination.

He didn’t need to speak for you knew his hurt. Because the same memories that were flooding his mind, had been drowning you for decades.

The atmosphere felt heavy with unspoken truths, your face burning — you loathed yourself for the pain you had caused him. Pain that still contorted his expression every time his eyes flicked to yours.

Would he ever forgive you? Would he know that you lied so many years ago? That you truly and irremediably loved him? That you would always do?

You bowed down your head, mainly to conceal the unspent tears brimming on your waterlines.

“So I have been told, General,” you muttered softly as Magnus’ hand rested easily on the small of your back, his lips brushing your temple gently.

“I know this may seem sudden, father, but I know that Aurora is the one,” Magnus confessed shyly, pulling your body towards him in a warm half-embrace.

Never in your life had you wished yourself to disappear so badly. Marcus’ sight burnt through you and you couldn’t help but reciprocate him. The sadness—no, the heartbreak—in them was like a dagger through your heart, and you wondered if the decision you made so many years ago had been the right one.

By the looks of it, he had done well for himself, just as you had imagined he would. The villa was beautiful, sumptuous even. It spoke of his status in the Empire, how highly rewarded he had been for his enterprise. You assumed that Marcus had married eventually after you left, and you only hoped he’d married for love.

“I see,” Marcus murmured in reply to his son, walking back to his chair. “Let’s eat first. Prisca, my wife, won’t be joining us. She had to excuse herself because she wasn’t feeling well. Please forgive her absence.”

Prisca. So he hadn’t married for love, his family had won and forced him into an arranged marriage after all. Your heart cried for him, for the injustice you had showered upon him with your departure. Perhaps he ended up loving her so his life wouldn’t be as miserable.

That last thought stung, the dagger further twisting in your heart. You wanted his happiness, but selfishly you hoped Marcus still loved you. Undeserving of such love you were, that was clear to you, but you still hoped anyway.

“Of course, Dominus,” you hushed as Magnus guided you to an empty chair.

The food served was delicious, but the silence looming over the table tinged the atmosphere uncomfortable. Magnus did a remarkable effort to keep the conversation going, but Marcus’ succinct replies didn’t leave much room for chatter. And when Magnus pushed again about the marriage proposal—to you dismay—Marcus said that it could discussed tomorrow over breakfast.

Even though the man in front of you had aged, you still saw him as he was thirty-five years ago. He had a scar on his upper cheek and across the bridge of his aquiline nose, crows feet kissing the corners of his brown eyes, his thick curls were greying, and his demeanour was more stoic, but he was still your Marcus.

The only difference though was his lack of… life. His eyes didn’t sparkle anymore, they were tinted with darkness and sorrow. Had war changed him? Had you changed him?

Your throat collapsed on itself, tightening to the point of suffocation. Just in time, you reined in the tears as the last maid removed the plate in front of you.

“I should be going,” you announced, pushing back the chair to stand up.

Marcus sprung to his feet before his son did. And when he realised his promptness, he cleared his throat but didn’t speak.

“It’s late,” Magnus said, standing up to be by your side, throwing a confused glance to his father. “Could she stay the night, father, please?”

Marcus nodded.

“I will ask one of the servants to prepare one of the empty chambers,” Marcus conceded, walking around the table to meet his son.

“Oh,” Magnus sighed, and you knew he’d hoped to share a bed with you tonight.

Your face burnt once more with shame when Marcus’ eyes looked for yours. However, you didn’t meet his gaze, scared of what you would find in it.

“Thank you, General, you are most generous,” you husked in a low voice.

“I will show you around the villa in the meantime, amica mea,” Magnus said, his hand quick to rest on the back of your waist.

You subtly flinched at his endearment. That was what his father always called you. It felt wrong when he said it now, completely out of place — it didn’t at first, when you looked at him and imagined he was Marcus instead. But with the love of your life standing firm in front of you, it sounded so vile.

This fantasy of yours was a dangerous game, one you didn’t want to play. Not if it meant hurting Marcus again, because you could see the way he studied you. How his pupils dilated with anger every time his son would seek your touch. It was killing him, and you in the process. When everyone went to sleep, you would leave in the middle of the night, as the shadow you were condemned to be.

Magnus urged you to turn around and walk beside him, when you heard Marcus gasp.

“Your birthmark,” his words stopped you right in your tracks.

When Juno touched you to bring you back to life over a century ago, Her caress left a mark on the back of your left shoulder. The shape resembled that of a peacock, the loyal animal known to accompany the Goddess.

“What about it?” Magnus intervened, confused by the interruption.

Slowly you looked over your shoulder to glance at Marcus. His eyes were a window to his restless, half soul, desperate and blown — he knew. He searched your face for a crack, a way in, but your expression didn’t tumble.

You wished you could veer around and throw yourself in his arms, kiss him and apologise, ask him to take you back. But you just couldn’t. Love was heartbreak, and it would have to remain that way if you didn’t want to hurt Marcus even more than what you already had.

“Nothing,” he grumbled, jaw tight with a tic on the muscle.

Marcus stirred in bed, unable to get any sleep.

Your face haunted him brighter than ever — every time his eyes shut, your sorry expression would gnaw at the confines of his mind. Seeing you right in front of him after so many years, all curled up to his son’s side, drove him mad.

At first, he thought himself crazy. You looked exactly as you did thirty-five years ago — not even a wrinkle kissed your skin, not a greying hair anywhere to be seen in your plaited hair. So when you explained you were the daughter of the woman who broke his heart, he had believed you.

That was until he saw the birthmark on your shoulder. The unmistakable shape he had joked about in the past, telling you that you had been kissed by Juno Herself at birth. It was impossible that you had inherited such a peculiar mark.

But it was even more impossible that you had remained as youthful as you were, as if not a single day had passed. How was that even possible? Some people were gifted with slow ageing, he had seen some, but to remain exactly the same? No, there was something else lurking, an explanation he could not grasp because it was too surreal, too unfathomable for a mortal.

Marcus needed answers. His mind was a tangled mess, this new discovery shining a different light on the conversation that destroyed him over three decades ago. Did your words have a meaning he had not been able to see before?

“Eternity? Don’t speak of things you don’t understand, Marcus.”

What had you truly meant by that? Did you understand what eternity really was in a level he couldn’t even start to comprehend?

Heart pounding, he quietly removed the covers and sat on the bed. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that Prisca was sound asleep. Not that she would miss him anyway.

In darkness, Marcus palmed around until he found his toga and quickly changed to then walk out of his bedchamber with a clear destination in mind.

He trudged along the cold corridors of his villa until he found the door to the room you were sleeping in. For a second, he doubted, thinking he was crazy for the implausible reason taking form in his mind. But if it wasn’t that—that you were, somehow, ageless—he still needed to know why. Why hadn’t you aged? Why leave him? Why not tell him the truth?

As his shaky hand lifted and curled to knock on the wooden plank, the door swung open.

You appeared under the doorframe with a wild expression and widened eyes, obviously in a hurry to leave. Again.

“Marcus,” you gasped, one hand flying to your chest in surprise as your beautiful eyes met his.

He froze in place, all the words he had planned to say stuck to the back of his throat, forming a lump that would not let him speak. Your beauty was dazzling, but it was the buried love he harboured for you what stopped him from talking as it resurfaced.

His memory of you had not faded, able to remember every single feature of your face regardless the passage of time. Everything about you was engraved in his mind, but he had almost forgotten how sweet you smelt. Roses, with an earthy hint of grass.

As your scent numbed his mind, Marcus finally found his dry tongue.

“Don’t leave, please. Don’t leave again,” he begged in a hoarse whisper, his eyes diving in yours.

You looked up at him and he felt himself under a spell. The same one you had him under years ago, when the heart was shattered and the mind bleak. Because even when you waved him goodbye, he still loved you. Never stopped, was never able to hate you for what you did, what you said.

“Can we talk?” he pushed before realising your eyes were glassy with sadness. “I know your name is not Aurora. I know it’s you.”

Your bottom lip trembled as a single tear fell from the cliff of your lashes. Moved by his own ghost of the past, Marcus reached for your cheek with his palm, the thumb brushing away the tears that followed the first one.

You let go of a deep sigh, kissed the palm of his hand and nodded. His heart was beating so loud, so fast, he almost missed your words.

“I owe you an explanation, Marcus,” you finally spoke, a broken sob almost tearing his resolution.

As you stepped aside, Marcus came into the room you were so eager to leave behind. Your heartbeat had spiked the moment you saw him and hadn’t slowed down since then. Perhaps you didn’t die of heartbreak but could die of a heart attack.

For decades you had been running until you found him. Until Marcus made you believe you could have everything he promised. It had been the first time you had actually considered growing roots. But the thought of not being able to grow old, to see the love of your life wither away while you remained sane, was paralysing. You had panicked — too scared to accept the love of a man who would give up everything for you, too frightened to trust someone again.

But was Marcus not worthy of your trust? He demonstrated repeatedly how he would always protect you, always cherish you. Not only with words, but with actions too. He had been so considerate, so loving, for a moment in the past you thought it a ruse. How could someone be so damn perfect and still be real?

Your heart clenched in pain, seeing him latch the door behind him and turn around to face you. The look of confusion, of sorrow, ate at your conscience. Under the candlelight, his torn features stuck out, time unforgiving. He was still gorgeous, would always be in your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing that slipped out before the quivering of your bottom lip let out a sob. “I’m so sorry, Marcus. I didn’t know Magnus was your son, otherwise I would have never—” you shook your head, taming your cries. “I should have known. He looks so much like you. When I first saw him, I thought it was you. That somehow you had been able to still time and be with me.”

You sobbed a pitiful laugh, unable to look him in the eye. It was shameful having to admit something like this — that you had chased after a boy because he reminded you of someone you loved. But despite your immortality, you were still capable of human mistakes.

“So you didn’t know he was my son?” Marcus asked quietly. You could see the inner workings of his mind ruminating as you shook your head no. “Do you love him? Were you really going to marry him?”

The questions caught you off guard. Although at some point you were expecting them, you didn’t think it would be this early in conversation. It might be for the better if it got out of the way as soon as possible, so you could explain yourself.

The first cut would be the deepest, although the rest would still hurt.

“I love the idea of him,” you emphasized, ashamed of yourself for giving in to such fantasy. “I thought I could love him the way I did you, that he could be a vessel of my love for you. That I could, for a few days, remember how it felt— how you felt. That I could have you one more time,” you paused and sighed, intertwining your hands together to twist them nervously. “I only met him a week ago, marriage did not cross my mind at all. I was going to leave once—”

“Once it got too serious,” he finished for you.

Marcus went quiet again, his eyes transfixed on you. You wished Juno blessed you with the ability to read minds, to know what he was thinking right this moment. Did he hate you for what you just revealed? Did he think you were sick for trying to live out a fleeting dream? Would he forgive you for such despicable behaviour?

“Do you still love me?” his gravelly voice was so low, for a moment you thought you had imagined it.

But the doubt, the fresh hurt in his wounded gaze, told you otherwise.

You gaped for air, your lungs strained with sorrow. You should fib, stand by your initial lie, tell him you didn’t. But what had that gotten you the first time around except for a life of misery and loneliness? What had that gotten him?

“I do. I do love you, Marcus,” you whispered, out of breath due to the pounding of your heart. “Couldn’t be any other way. You’re the other half of my soul that I’ve been missing for so long.”

Time stilled as you looked Marcus dead in the eyes. You were not expecting anything out of your raw confession, because the time for those had passed. It was what you should have said thirty-five years ago, not now. You were too late to mend the love that had slipped through the cracks of time.

“Then that’s all that matters,” he finally broke the silence, his voice laced with emotion.

The admission shook you. Could this be true, really happening? Did he still love you after all this time?

In a couple of strides, you found yourself in his arms, the way it should have been ages ago. His forearms wrapped around you like a warm blanket as his head bowed down to taste your lips.

You kissed him back, first sweetly, then fiercely. You kissed him with all the unexpressed love you held in your heart, with the passion your true love deserved. His tongue was as sweet as you remembered, as soothing as your memory recalled. A dance ensued, his tongue reading a love letter to yours.

Your hands, which had been resting on his chest, drifted up to cradle his face — his moustache and stubble pickling the skin of your palms. Marcus untied his mouth from yours to kiss your tears goodbye, then pressed a peck on your forehead. His heart was beating as loud as yours, in unison like true soulmates.

“I’ve missed you. I never stopped thinking about you, lux mihi,” he confessed under his breath. “Life was never the same after you left.”

His admission made your heart flutter even further, and you couldn’t help but let your hands roam his back. Your fingers played with the knot holding the toga in place, his seeping warmth beckoning.

“I need you, Marcus. Make love to me,” you pleaded, leaving a love trail of kisses on his neck.

Marcus’ chest rumbled at your plea, his lips hunting down yours in a heartbeat. His hands were quick with your clothing, worshipping the curves of your body as it was revealed to him. You did the same with his toga, until you were both bare, standing in front of each other.

You saw his eyes lingering on every nook and cranny of your skin before they found yours. A thunder of connection ran through you, of yearning. On your tiptoes, you kissed him again, pressing your breasts onto his chest while your fingertips traced the map of his back.

You didn’t expect all the bumps and grooves you found on his skin; battle scars dotted around everywhere. Some thick and protuberant, some thin and soft. Marcus keened at your touch, silently letting you know that some of them were too sensitive to be caressed.

How much hurt his body and heart had endured, a life dedicated to war and duty. Your heart cried for him, for not being able to be by his side when he needed you most. Had you taken up his offer, had he run away from responsibility with you, his skin would tell a different story.

But the past couldn’t be changed, only the present was malleable enough to shape a new future.

Slowly he pushed you towards the bed, his hands resting on either side of your waist while his thumb drew lazy circles on your bristled skin. Raking your fingers through his silver curls, you leaned back on the mattress, his warm body blanketing yours.

His hands found the apex of your breasts, soft fingers rubbing your taut nipples as your head tilted back. Marcus licked the salt of your exposed neck, finding your pulse point. He kissed the spot and lingered, your vein pulsing against his lips as one of his hands discovered the slick your thighs harboured for him.

The feathery caress of his ring finger outlining your seam turned you into a whimpering mess. His pad stroked your nub, a slight flick followed before it slid down your slit and found your weeping hole. He circled it a few times, taunting you effortlessly, before returning to your clit.

You heaved, lips pursed so your moans would stay contained. In the dead of the night, you worried this show of love would seep through the walls. But not even the thought of his marriage, the thought of Magnus lying in bed a few rooms over, could stop you from joining your bodies together the way the Gods intended.

Marcus’ mouth travelled down the column of your neck, kissing the center of your clavicle before he went further down. Your unattended nipple was soon enough smothered by the wetness between his lips, and you fisted his hair in response, gently tugging at it.

“Marcus,” you moaned, eyes shut. Rejoiced.

One nipple drowned in his spit, the other pinched between his fingers, and his ring finger pressing tight circles on your thudding clit had you fighting to remain silent. But the moment the hand between your hands moved down and his digit teased your walls apart as it sank in your slick warmth, you couldn’t stop the muffled yet loud moan.

“Sing for me, meum corculum (my little heart),” Marcus husked. The gentle pumping of his finger in your wet heat had you quietly howling a few seconds later. “That’s it.”

Your felt your walls contract, pulse around his finger, holding onto him for dear life. Feeling your need as his own, Marcus dunked his middle finger in your pussy too, stretching you while his thumb stroked your clit. The combination of it all made you clench around him, almost begging for release.

“Let go for me,” Marcus asked between licks, and you couldn’t resist his prayer.

The coil that had been tightening inside you finally snapped, releasing a wave that coursed through your quaking body like a tumultuous sea. Your back slightly arched as your thighs trembled around his forearm, chest rising with a dire need for oxygen.

Marcus chuckled softly, setting your nipple free as he searched for your mouth again. He devoured you as you came down from your high, his erect cock gently resting on your mound. The weight of it on your sensitive skin felt like it belonged. The anticipation of welcoming him inside you made you gush.

“Let me drink you, kiss you, savour you,” he pressed a kiss on your mouth after each pause.

Your skin flushed; the proposition was somewhat indecent. It was lewd, frowned upon, and you were tethered to the chains of social decency. But there was nothing decent about infidelity, after all.

“Please, mea vita (my life). I can make you reach for the moon and the stars in the ceiling above if you let me, make you touch them,” he promised.

You shyly nodded, and his boyish grin grew wider, his lips tensing. So contagious, you smiled back as he came off you and moved your body until your butt was on the edge of the mattress.

He scooted you over towards him until the back of your knees were resting on his shoulders — leaving you completely exposed to his hungry gaze. His eyes lingered on your leaking dampness, his dilated pupils tracing the outline of your seam. The intensity of it all, the deep connection, made your thighs press together against his neck, wanting to hide your core from him.

You had nothing to be shy of, as Marcus had already seen you bare before. Sex with him had always been ardent, fervent — the heat of passion always got the best of you both, a certain urgency to consummate your love. But now? Now was different. There was no rush in his movements, in how his thumbs pried your pussy lips open, in how his warm lips brushed the sensitive skin on your inner thigh. His calm confidence in taking you as he had promised was new to you, who never had all the time in the world. But right now, you did. For Marcus, you did. Always would.

Your lashes fluttered, kissing the apples of your cheeks the moment the languid strokes of his tongue met your swollen flaps. He kissed one gently, then the other, before the wet muscle lapped from your gushing hole up to your clit. So venerating were his licks, your limbs relaxed at the intimate kiss.

“You taste like ambrosia, lux mihi. The best relish I have ever been graced with,” his hot breath collided with the cold skin on your slit, your body trembling in response.

“Marcus, please,” you begged, although you were not sure why, or what you were asking of him.

He didn’t leave you waiting again. His fingers sank in the flesh of your thighs while his tongue dived inside your slick furrow. So dextrous were his charges, you couldn’t help but mewl like a starved kitten in a back alley asking for leftovers. First, he flicked your excited bundle of nerves, and then he suckled on it, his jaw working you through the climb to another orgasm. The buildup was intense, but it became feverish the moment his finger joined the action — it slid easily inside, curled to caress the precise spongy spot of your arousal.

Unaware of your own actions, one of your hands slithered down your belly until you fisted his curls — pushing him towards the centre of your heat, not away from it. He hadn’t lied — the stars appeared behind your eyes, bright like the future you wished you had with him. A sea of constellations, all imploding at once in an amazing rain of stars that blinded you as you came crashing down from the skies.

You heaved and wailed his name in ecstasy, your entire body quivering with the strength of a thousand suns. Your entrance clenched around his finger as you held your breasts, your thumbs ghosting the taut buttons. You leaked your pleasure on his mouth, and he drank unashamedly, grateful of your offering.

A sweet kiss on your mound before he towered over you, and you could only look at him in awe with raw, true love. When his battered body blanketed yours, you draped your arms around his waist, hands lightly resting on his lower back. The knowing smirk on his lips spoke of a muted “I told you so.”

“I love you,” he whispered instead.

Your heart swooned and healed and cried and exploded. All at once. He hadn’t said those exact words yet, but they were veiled in every sentence, every action he had said or done tonight. Deep inside you were eternally grateful that he hadn’t grown to hate you, that his love for you remained intact despite heartache, circumstances and time.

Unbeknownst to you, tears welled up, ones that Marcus drank too. As he did, your palms stroked his ribs, careful to avoid the scars you had come to learn were too delicate. Eager, one slid off his skin until your fingers wrapped around his throbbing manhood. Eyes down, you saw the pearly bead of pre-cum commending you to butter it on his flushed head. With your thumb you caressed the tip, and Marcus’ lips parted in need — an invitation you quickly accepted, dunking your tongue in his mouth.

A few pumps had him groaning and soon enough you were guiding him to the pocket of heat between your thighs. His cockhead kissed your gushing entrance the same way his lips did — knowing, denuded, possessing. And slowly he made his way in, parting your flesh like a new stream disturbing the earth beneath. The burning sting was most welcomed, blossoming into a fullness you had craved for decades.

“I’m home,” Marcus rasped when he was fully seated in your cunt.

Your throat clamped a little, emotion overtaking your senses the same way his erection did.

“Welcome home, dilectus (beloved),” you muttered with a loving smile and teary eyes.

You melted into a slow kiss as Marcus rocked his hips, rutting into you almost lethargically, wanting the moment to last. You let him set the pace, the drag of his cock in your pussy a delight that had you reaching for the stars again and your inner walls squeezing him tight. The sweet rhythm of his swaying tightened the slick, hot coil that pooled low in your belly, and the moment Marcus gained momentum, you followed.

Needily he started fucking into you with precision, chasing both of your highs. His dick pulsed inside you, your heartbeat instinctually adapting to his in a second. Both so close to the sky above, gasping for air now, you rocked underneath him to amplify such pleasure.

“Marcus,” you whimpered, your hands now cradling his face. You lost yourself in his eyes, blown and loving. “Please, inside,” was everything you murmured.

Even after your petition, the snap of his hips against yours didn’t falter. Instead, the pace increased as his wild orbs studied your blissed out expression.

“Do you mean it?” You nodded effusively. “Do you want your belly round with my child?”

You didn’t even know if it was possible — yes, you looked young but were closer to a hundred and fifty years on this earth than to the day you were born. The fertility of your womb was one you never dared to test in your immortal life, but the thought of having such a memory—someone—to remember him by when the days grew cold and the nights dark was overpowering reality.

“Yes, I do,” you reassured him, pecking his lips softly.

His head fell, his face resting on the crook of your neck, while he made love to you. His moves stuttered, announcing his climax, and your pussy hugged him tight in a natural response. The moment the first ropes hit your cervix, you came undone too. As Marcus filled you with his warm spent, you creamed around his beating girth, your hands holding onto his shoulders as your back arched and your nipples kissed his chest.

It took both of you a few minutes to come down, for the haze of lovemaking to slowly dissolve in the musky air. Marcus hungered for your lips and he hunted them down with eagerness. Your bodies finally untied, his cock leaving you empty yet satisfied.

You hoped—prayed—his seed would take root in your womb. Even if it was impossible, the sliver of a miraculous possibility gave you a resemblance of hope. So you pressed your thighs together, greedy of his gift.

Marcus rolled off you, falling onto his tummy besides you. Quickly you laid on your side, your fingertips tracing the lines of his skin again. A feathery touch to alleviate the harshness of life. He unburied his face from the pillow and turned to look at you.

His smile was instant, and so was yours.

For an hour no words were spoken at all, no sleep was achieved either. You both remained silent, staring at each other, soaking up the love that flooded the chamber.

Replacing your fingers with your lips, you kissed the scars on his back, his shoulders, his arms. And finally his nose and cheek, where you dawdled as if your caress could erase the pain they inflicted.

“What are we going to do, amica mea?” Marcus husked after what felt like an eternity.

Reality set in, leaving a gaping hole in your belly. What could you do? Would you be strong enough to stay by his side for however long the goddess Mors took to claim him? Strong enough to build a life you knew was ephemeral? And once he was gone from this mortal plane, what would be left of you?

The choice was an impossible one. One that you should have made decades ago, when the heart was whole and the mind still strong. Now you knew how arduous life was without him, how—for years—you had looked for him in the small details and every single man who resembled him, how the regret and the grief haunted you at every turn of a decade. Now you knew that life wasn’t worth living if you didn’t have Marcus to share it with.

You traced the profile of his nose with your lips before pressing a soft kiss on his.

“I am not sure, but I am willing to try… if you are,” you whispered, leaning back.

The implications of such life were huge for him. Married, with a son who though himself in love with you, an acclaimed General who served Rome even when Rome didn’t serve him. His responsibilities were greater than yours, Marcus had so much to lose. Had you accepted his proposal when you should have, neither of you would be in such dire situation.

Marcus sighed heavily, rolling onto his side to face you. His calloused hand cradled your cheek, his eyes filled with a determination you wished you had back then, when life was easier.

“There is nothing nor no one that could stop me from spending the rest of my life with you, lux mihi,” he mumbled, hand dropping to your hip. “I said it then, and I will say it again: I do not care for this life if you are not with me. I don’t care about reputation nor retaliation. For over fifty years I have done what was expected of me, and I am done living my life for Rome and her vice. You’re the stars that light up my path in the darkest of nights, the warm sun that guides me home. For however long you’ll have me, I’ll be with you. My heart was always yours, mea vita, since the moment I landed eyes on you. And I don’t want it back, ever, even if you have to leave again.”

The softness of his delivery, the truth his words emanated, brought tears to your eyes. You thought yourself unworthy of his love, his devotion, when you had only caused heartbreak. But this was your second chance, one you were not going to let go.

You moved closer to him as his arm wrapped around you. With your forehead resting on his naked chest, you traced invisible lines on his ribs.

“I won’t leave. That broke me once, can’t handle it a second time. I love you and want to spend the rest of our time together showing you how much I do, making up for lost time. For however long,” you repeated, kissing his chin.

There was a brief pause, and you knew what his next words would be.

“How old are you?” the question you had always avoided, dreaded.

“Close to three times your age,” you confessed, looking up at him through your lashes.

The answer slowly sank in, but instead of horror, incomprehension and disgust, you only found acceptance. As if it was just another fact about you, nothing of major importance.

“You look amazing for being close to one hundred and fifty years of age,” he joked with a grin to lighten the mood. You let out a soft laugh in response. “How? If you want to share.”

The story of how you came to be ageless wasn’t a pleasant one. But your life was full of secrets that had ruined every human link you had to this earth, and you wouldn’t let them spoil the only real connection you had left.

“I… I was promised to a man, one who I thought was worthy of my love. There were things I was blind to at that time, and only time showed them to me. I thought everything was going as expected, he was always so courteous and respectful in public. Until our wedding night, when he…” you paused, the memories too painful even after all this time, “he abused me, and let his friends use me. When they were done, they left me for dead in a ditch.”

Marcus’ arm draped around you tighter, his heart beating so loud you could hear it thumping against his chest. He hugged you close, his warmth calming and reassuring. Marcus was nothing like that man, if your abuser could even be considered a person. You knew he never would be so despicable — you were as sure as the first lights of the sun would wake you up tomorrow.

“It took me hours to finally drift away. And when I did, Juno greeted me. Said the man had wronged me, and that I should have a second chance to understand what marriage and true love actually were about. Then she touched me right here,” you caressed the peacock-shaped birthmark, “and breathed life into me.”

Marcus leaned back a little to inspect your torn features. The heartache he had to endure paled in comparison to yours. How could someone inflict such hurt on another? He couldn’t even fathom such disgusting scenario. That man was the reincarnation of evil, and he wished he suffered the most agonising death.

He had only seen your soul’s purity, your kindness, your benevolence. Anyone who didn’t was blind.

“You did not deserve that ending, amica mea — no one does. He didn’t deserve you,” his heart cried for you, for the weight you had carried for over a century. “You’ve got the purest heart I have ever known. A soul that I will protect until my dying breath.”

“A half soul,” you interrupted him, and Marcus looked at you confused. “Because your other half completes mine.”

His heart jolted, this time because of the sweetness of your confession. That muscle had grown bigger in the last two hours than in his entire lifetime. He sworn himself to stand by your side, come what may. You would never be wronged again, not if he could avoid it.

“We’re leaving tonight,” Marcus declared without skipping a beat.

“What? What about your wife, your son?” your eyes had widened, but his resolution was firm.

“My wife… she’s not been my wife for years. She’s poison. And my son…” he shrugged, conflicted. “He’ll eventually understand, or so I hope. I believe he might already have an inkling that something weird was at play from the moment I said your real name.”

“Marcus, are you sure? You’d be sacrificing so much for me, I wouldn’t want to—”

He didn’t let you finish, his mouth covering yours in a passionate kiss that slowly turned gentle and soothing. Your hands caressing his battle-scarred skin was like a balm; your touch the first and only one to cure all his ailments. Unhurriedly, he sat back up on the bed, dragging you with him.

“Let’s leave now. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, lux mihi,” Marcus purred against your lips.

Fifteen minutes later, you were both clothed and atop of two horses, blending in with the shadows of the night that concealed your departures, in search of a new life. Together.

taglist: @orcasoul @lilac-boo @picketniffler @almostfoxglove @gothcsz @liciafonseca @namenotimportant1373

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nachrosas · 2 days ago

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QUANTUM FEELINGS | s.reid x reader

summary: in which you said "i love you" to spencer when he's a little drunk. pairing: spencer reid x reader content warnings: just spencer being a little drunk in this one! word count: 915 a/n: night, night! thank you so much anon for requesting this (my first request ever), i hope it turned out well! hope you guys like it! feedback is always appreciated! also, my inbox is always open to chat! till the next one!

Your living room was immersed in soft light, projected by the lamp in the corner of the room. Empty wine bottles lay on the coffee table as if they were telling the story of a night that had gotten completely out of hand. You were sitting on the sofa, watching Spencer lying on the floor on the dog, his cheeks flushed from drinking so much and the tie he insisted on wearing was now loose, falling awkwardly over his crumpled shirt.

“You know…” he began, pointing a trembling finger upwards as if to reveal something new. “Do you know that quantum entanglement is… is… basically proof that the universe is a real walking paradox?”

You tried to hold back a laugh, but the grimace on his face made you fail miserably. “Spence, I don't understand quantum physics.”

He raised his head a little, his eyes shining with a mixture of indignation and enthusiasm. “It's very simple!” he insisted, even though his speech was totally slurred. “Two particles are completely connected, no matter how far apart they are. If one changes, so does the other. It's like… instantaneous! And nobody knows how it works! Is it… fascinating? Terrifying? Sad?”

“Sad?” you asked, curious about what he had said.

“Yes!” he stood up carelessly, almost knocking over the bottles on the table. “Because… because… that means that although everything is connected, at the same time we are so… isolated. As if each person were a particle desperately trying to find their half, but never…never…”

The sentence hung in the air, lost between the pauses and the weight of the drink in Spencer's system.

You leaned forward, resting your chin on one of your hands as you watched him. “Spence.” you said softly, your voice with a tone of affection that overflowed before you could control it. “That's why I love you so much.”

He blinked, surprised, the silence filling the space between you as if there were a third person present. Perhaps because of the alcoholic state he was in, or the confusion in his expression, he gave a low, disconnected laugh, shaking his head as if he had just heard something quite absurd.

“I love tangled particles too,” he muttered, before downing the rest of the wine he'd found in a glass.

And you laughed, but the sound that escaped your lips seemed more nervous than you wanted.

The sun streamed into the room through the ajar curtains, the kind of light that had only one purpose: to irritate someone with a hangover. Spencer woke up slowly, pressing his eyes shut as a slight pain throbbed at the base of his head. He let out a low groan, feeling the bitter taste of wine and regret fill his mouth.

The muffled sound of plates and cups coming from the direction of the kitchen brought a small semblance of normality but also ignited disconnected fragments of the night before in his mind. The conversation about quantum physics, his inability to articulate ideas clearly, and… something else.

He stood up slowly, rubbing his face with his hands as he tried to remember more. Quantum entanglement, isolation… laughter… and…

“That's why I love you.”

The words echoed like a bucket of cold water thrown in his face, so unexpected and clear that they made his mind freeze in place. He tried to rationalize. You must have said it as a joke. Or something that came out in the heat of the moment. But the tone you used… was gentle, totally natural.

Getting up slowly, he stumbled to your bedroom door, still wearing his crumpled shirt and loose tie, as a reminder of all the chaos that had been the night before. When he reached the kitchen, he saw you, casual as ever, stirring something in a mug.

“Good morning, my favorite Einstein.” you joked when you saw him. “How's your head after that magnificent lecture on particles in love?”

He stood still for a moment, waiting for his brain to process his speech. “I've been better.” he replied, his voice hoarse, as he looked away from her to the bench.

“Coffee?” you offered, holding out the mug in your hands.

He accepted it without hesitation, his fingers still slightly trembling. “I… talked a lot of garbage yesterday, didn't I?”

You shrugged, still smiling. “Well, it was quite a trip. But don't worry, I didn't judge your ramblings about cosmic loneliness.”

He let out a mirthless laugh, but the discomfort was still there, pulsing beneath the surface of his chest. As you turned your attention to the stove, he allowed himself to stop and watch you for a moment. The way you acted as if nothing had happened made him wonder if it had really mattered — or if he was just dwelling on something too small.

“Thanks for… um… looking after me last night.” he murmured, without looking directly at you.

“Sure, Spence.” you replied casually, with an easy smile. ”What are friends, if not entangled particles, right?”

He choked on his coffee, the phrase reviving his memory even more vividly of the night before. But instead of answering you, he just lowered his head and sipped his coffee.

At that moment, he realized that the discomfort he felt in his heart didn't come from your words, but from the way they made him feel. It was something new, unexpected. Something he couldn't imagine how he was going to explore, but he was sure he wouldn't be able to ignore.

#criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic

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void-speaks · 14 hours ago

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🌧"Hm, we don't really have those kind of luxuries nor the necessity for them, so I just dive head in even if its pouring. I do enjoy rain quite a lot. It's refreshing."

🍳"Well, I'm not exactly the best, but I do know how to make the most basic of things. Sigh, I do wish I had the chance to learn how to cook something more cool and interesting, but oh well. Oh, surprisingly enough, I do. I used to hate any and all kind of chores before, but now it's just something you can shut off your mind for and do on autopilot. Mmm, probabaly omelets. No particular reasons, I just think it's neat."

🧼"It's not like we get much of a choice. In this economy, we shower whenever we can. I do enjoy showering, but I haven't gotten many chances to bathe before, so I can't really tell anything. Again, it's a miracle if we find gel in this situation."

❌️"Obviously I would. It does depend on who is telling me what, but just in general, I would. Hmm... Probabaly Crane. He's seen some shit and has a good base of knowledge about the world, more than me and Aiden have."

🏳️‍"Well, it's hard to say right now. I can't really imagine anything that would make me give up, but there's probabaly something. Like, maybe if I was in complete despair? I don't know, hard to say."

📖"Gosh, don't even get me started on books! I really, really love books. I've always loved reading books even as a child. I mostly favored fantasy and detective novels and sometimes romance I suppose. Queer romance specifically because. Well. Guess. I wouldn't say I have a lot of opportunities to read in that sense that new books that I haven't read are a rare thing to find right now."

⛸️"I'm not... too into sports, to be fair. Would parkour count as a sport? Probabaly not right now. Hm... I guess Carnage Hall fights would be considered a sport? In that case, I don't really follow that stuff at all."

😷"I have an average immune system, so I don't get sick too much. Well, 'staying at home' right now isn't exactly an option, however, when I get sick, I tend to not overwhelm myself with chores, but don't stay in bed all day either. Well, medical masks are surprisingly hard to find, and just regular clothing pieces won't do much, so I tend to stay away from people or be very careful around them."

🥼"No, I don't. Hm, what kind of uniform... To be fair, and don't quote me on this, but Renegade uniform looks sick as Hell."

🥂"Huh, I never really thought about it. I guess I just pat myself on the back or don't really acknowledge them at all."

🛴"Parkour. It's probabaly impossible to get around on a bike in this environment, but it would be nice if I could. Traffic rules aren't really a thing right now, so eh."

🕰"Hm... Now that I think about it, we don't do that too much? Or I suppose we just use the sun as our guide most of the time. Or Peacekeeper sirens or church bells if it's in Old Villedor."

🥰"There's many things that can make me... Well, not happy, but bring some kind of positive feelings for sure. As for loved... I don't know how to answer that."

🐇"I don't. I prefer to live in the now and here. Believing in this kind of thing would be an escapism method for me, and I prefer not to do that."

🎺"I'm getting tired of saying it, but there's not much choice we have nowadays. I'm starting to sound like my grandma... I think. But, if I had to chose from all the songs I know, my current choice would be that tape that Aiden showed me recently. I don't know its name, but it goes like... 'Some people cheat, some people sin, but ohhhhh I play to win, tu-tu-tu-tu-tu-tu-u-u-u-u-u,' and so on. Sorry, I'm not the best singer. Mm, no, not really. Never had a chance to learn. Probabaly the violin. I heard it's a difficult instrument, which is one of the things that intrigues me about it."

💽"Yes! I like collecting books, newspapers from the 'old times,' audio tapes and stuff like that. Really to collect information. But especially books. There isn't a particular reason, I just enjoy doing it. Or I suppose the reason would be that I want to know as much as possible about Villedor and its life and how life was for other people in the hot of the apocalypse."

🧋"Tea. By God how much I love tea. Especially black tea with thyme. I can't even explain it, I just do. My second top tea is from a specific brand, but it's also black tea with apple and... and some other berry. I don't know its name in English. Oh, that entirely depends on the season and how I'm feeling. But generally, I lean more towards warm or hot drinks."

🌻 random in-character questions

an ask game where, instead of replying from your perspective, you answer as if it's your original character/muse/self-insert/etc. answering the question ✨

🌧️ "When outside during the rain, do you use a raincoat, an umbrella, or something else? Do you enjoy rain?"

🍳 "Are you a good cook? Do you enjoy cooking? What's your favorite thing to cook?"

🧼 "Do you prefer to take a shower during the morning or evening? Do you like taking baths? What's your favorite scent of shower gel?"

❌ "Would you do something that someone told you not to do? Why? Is there someone you'd actually listen to more than everyone else?"

🏳️ "What will make you give up?"

📖 "What kinds of books do you read? Do you have a lot of time to read?"

⛸️ "What's your favorite kind of sport? Do you follow sports closely or don't care at all?"

😷 "How often do you get sick? Do you stay at home when sick or do you end up going outside to, say, get some groceries? If you go outside, would you wear a mask?"

🥼 "Do you have to wear a uniform somewhere? If yes, how do you feel about it? If no, what kind of uniform would you love to wear?"

🥂 "How do you celebrate you accomplishments?"

🛴 "What's your preferred way of getting somewhere - own car, public transport, a bicycle, or something else? How well do you follow the traffic rules?"

🕰️ "What do you use to check what time it is?"

🥰 "What would make you feel happy and loved?"

🐇 "Do you believe in other dimensions?"

🎺 "What kind of music do you mostly listen to? Do you know how to play an instrument, and if not, which one would you want to learn to play?"

💽 "Do you collect anything? Why?"

🧋 "What's your go-to thing to drink? Do you prefer cold or hot drinks?"

#oc!michael clarke #dying light 2 au #a flame rekindled #rekindle!michael

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luvvyouforever · 3 days ago

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snowed in with joel ⋆⁺₊❅.

content: fluff, sweetness, no other warnings apply, bf joel, short not very beautiful writing. author's note: this is so self indulgent it hurts. i'm stuck in the snow storm rn and my power's been out since yesterday at 6pm and it won't come on till tomorrow and now that i have internet at my family's house, i'm writing this for self comfort. enjoy!

the power to joel's home shut off with a loud click followed by two groans echoing throughout the now quiet living room.

"damn," joel exhaled, pulling himself from the warm spot next to you on the couch. "i thought we'd get lucky this time."

"i did too," you responded, moving to get up from the couch.

joel immediately turned around, hands outstretched to your rising figure. "nuh uh," he grunted. "you stay in here and get the fire going. i'll go fix the pipes up, close off the doors, and bring the mattress in here. both of us don't need to be cold."

"joel, let me help. it's pouring out there," you insisted, still not allowing his strength to push you back on the couch.

it took him one swift movement to push you back down on the plush couch, causing you to bounce upwards. with an almost imperceptible groan, he bent over and placed a warm kiss to the top of your head. "stay inside, doll. i'll be back soon."

with that, he left the cozy living room to head back towards the mud room where his snow boots had only just finished melting from his last foray out to retrieve firewood. he slipped the boots back on, put on his warm coat, and stepped out the door.

you got up from the couch sooner than later, intent on getting the fire started back up to keep the home warm. joel's house in jackson was nice, but it could get drafty quick with the two floors and multiple large windows. you pulled large matches from beside the fireplace, lit up some dry pieces of paper, and set those at the bottom. slowly, you added pieces of wood on top which the fire caught on to quickly. with a few pokes and shoves, the fire was blazing in the stone and instantly, the house felt cozier.

by that point, joel still hadn't returned from keeping the pipes from bursting outside and you felt useless sitting on the couch while he did so. with a sudden resolve, you moved into the guest bedroom to pull the mattress you used for cold nights out into the living room.

it was heavy, that much was true, but the years of surviving an apocalypse and trying to live self-sufficiently in the country had built up your strength enough that dragging the mattress out of its frame, through the hall, and into the living room only built up a little sweat around your brow.

by the time you had positioned the bed between the couches, joel returned to the mud room and shrugged off his coat and boots.

"i thought i'd told you just to light the fire, little lady," joel teased, walking into the living room.

"one less task for you to do, my handy man," you said with a smile. he came over, borderline shivering, and placed his hands in front of the fireplace.

"ellie's set out back with that old kerosene heater. it'll keep that garage warm and then some. pipes are covered so they shouldn't burst any time soon."

"good, i'm glad. you get warm in front of the fire and i'll drag our blankets and quilts down here."

you didn't give him any time to protest as you placed a kiss to his damp shoulder and jogged upstairs to the main bedroom. you started with the blankets on joel's bed, added the thick quilt kept in the closet, and grabbed the pillows too. before you had moved in, joel kept the bare minimum. now, there were more pillows on the bed than you could count and his blanket collection had increased tenfold. you're just supporting local small businesses is all.

with a grunt, you managed to pick up everything from the floor and carry it down the steps. joel had risen from his spot in front of the fireplace and took to covering the outside doors with thick sheets to block some of the wind from the near blizzard happening outside.

"think you got enough, hon?" he teased, taking a break from his nailing.

"can never be too cozy," you said with a shrug. "we'll probably only need the one blanket since you already put off enough body heat to warm a small elephant."

"and that's a bad thing?"

you thought about it for a second. "when it's 95 degrees out and you insist on keeping me wrapped around you, yes."

he chuckled deeply and placed his hammer down to head back towards where you were making up the bed. he took one side of the sheet you were currently fighting with and helped you place it over the end of the bed. "can't help that you're 'bout the size of a teddy bear. i'm asleep. i dunno the difference."

"ya know, now that i'm thinking about it, the garage with ellie sounds pretty nice right about now."

"yeah, right," he said with a laugh. for the next fifteen minutes or so, you worked in comfortable silence, setting up the living room as your main room till he and the others in town can get out to work on the power supply. you fished candles out of the cabinet, he found a battery operated radio with a cd and cassette insert, and you found a few lanterns that would offer some light around the dark house.

eventually, everything was set up and now there was nothing to do but enjoy the quiet peace of the night. joel managed to dig up some cds and cassettes with the player and he had an old country tune quietly playing over the crackling of the fire.

"c'mere, doll," he finally said, offering his arm out to cuddle up with you on the bed. you gratefully took it, eager to finally lay down. joel took the left side (he always did) and you took the right. his back was propped against the couch and you easily curled into his side. his arm wrapped around your frame and within seconds, the cold dissipated from your body.

his lips met your head in a sweet gesture and you smiled at the warm comfort of it all. joel was all you needed, really. the power being out was a frustration, true. you had wanted to bake some cookies that night and you wanted to read another cheesy romance book that joel had found for you in an old store. joel wanted to keep tinkering with the old record player tommy found and he liked to end his nights with a warm shower before crawling into his bed with you.

but this was fine. more than fine. you were warm in front of the fire, his favorite music was echoing through the room, and he had you under his arms, where he liked you to be the most.

#ugh i could've cried writing this #life is so hard #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader fluff #joel miller fluff #the last of us #tlou #joel tlou #pedro pascal #the last of us hbo #joel x reader

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writersblockiskillingme · 2 days ago

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Red | The Salesman

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!reader

Summary: After a tiring day, you're just trying to go home, but while you're waiting on your train, a handsome man in a suit stumbles on you.

Warning/s: betting, money in exchange for a game, slapping (on the face, you nasty), salesman trying to recruit you for the games, smoking cigarettes, people on the station being kind of weirded out, maybe some cursing (idk), reader is in debt, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: So this is like the prequel to my story Russian Roulette, but it really doesn't matter whether you read that fic or this one first. You do you. I really love the request, btw. Hope you enjoy!

Request: hii can u make more stories in this story line between the reader n him? like i rlly wanna know what they were like tgthr before this situation since we r told they had smth tgthr at some point tyyyy

Part 2 here!!

The bench where I was sitting was quite cold, which, of course, wasn't surprising considering how cold it was tonight. My hand slightly shook as I wrapped my fingers around the lit up cigarette that I was smoking for who knows how long. My flimsy jacket that was wrapped around me did not bring exact comfort to me that I had hoped it would.

Shivering there, I sat as the announcer's voice rang around the train station, signaling that the train that I was waiting for to go home would be slightly delayed, forcing me to wait there for entire hour more than I should be waiting. It was already late and I was so done with today's day.

Trying to earn money was hard, especially when you're in a lot of debt. Being chased by the people who you owe money to, threatening to cut out your eyes, possibly even kill you in the end, wasn't fun either. You had to learn to sleep with one eye open. Constantly on edge, just like I was right now.

The job that I worked did not provide as much money as I needed it to. There was simply no way for me to earn enough money for food every day, to pay rent which I was already three months behind. My landlord was truly a fucking angel for letting me live in that house as long as I did, but I knew that that wouldn't last forever either. There was no way that I could afford to pay everything that was essential, let alone pay off my debts.

In frustration, letting out a deep, disappointed sigh, my hand slid into the pocket of my jacket, reaching for yet another cigarette and a lighter.

"Hello, miss."

I practically jumped from my seat, startled by a sudden voice next to me. I whipped my head around, finding the face that this voice belonged to.

Right next to me, smiling, was a very handsome man that looked like some kind of salesman. He was wearing a very expensive suit. His hair was as black as the night sky. His piercing eyes just as black. There was little to no facial hair, but that really suited him. He was very handsome and I quickly found myself surprised when I realized that he was actually talking to me.

"Can I talk to you?" He asked once he noticed how startled I was.

"I'm not a prostitute, sir." I said, sliding away on the bench further away from him.

"Don't worry, miss, it's not that." He chuckled gently, his eyes never leaving mine. "I just want to let you in on a great opportunity to win some money."

There was just silence for a while. I sad nothing all the while he kept looking at me.

"Um..." I looked at him and, for a while, just couldn't bring myself to speak up. "No, thank you."

"'No'?" He asked.

It seemed like I caught him by surprise, but after a little while I noticed something else in his eyes that I just couldn't seem to figure out. Some kind of amazement? Respect even? But there was definitely something that I couldn't label quite yet.

"There is definitely a catch." I smiled slightly. I would love to get some money, of course, but I know that it won't be that easy.

"Miss." The salesman smiled once again, his eyes surprisingly gently just like his voice as he spoke. "Would you like to play a game with me?

"Wha-What kind of g-game?" I found myself stuttering a bit. "Look, if this is some sort of sick perverted thing you're doing 'cause I swear if you try something, I am going to scream." I threatened, a newfound confidence overwhelming me.

He chuckled once more, "No, nothing like that, Miss."

All of a sudden, he quickly turned his face away from me as he reached to open his suitcase. I could swear that for a split second I saw him blush, but then I realized that I probably imagined it because there's no way. I mean, sure, he is very handsome, but the two of us are a whole world apart, too different from each other.

"I'm sure you've played ddakji before, right?" He spoke and I looked at the open suitcase that was resting between us.

There were a few piles of money on one side and two different colors of ddakji on the other side. Red and blue. I looked at him with surprise.

"You-You want me to play ddakji with you?" I asked, raising my eyebrow in question.

He nodded with a smile.

"For money?"

He nodded again, "Play a few rounds of ddakji with me and each time you win, I'll pay you a 100,000 won."

Damn.

I mean, sure, why not. I loved that game when I was a kid, and I didn't have a chance to play the game in what seemed like forever. Plus, if I win, I get money. It all seemed amazing, but then I realized what the problem with all of this could be.

"And what if I lose and you win." I asked, he continued to smile as he answered.

"Then you pay me 100,000 won."

"Sir, this is amazing and all, don't get me wrong." I gently said, "But I'm afraid that I don't have the money to pay you back."

"That is all right, miss." His smile unwavering. "We'll figure something else regarding that if it comes to it."

For a moment, I just sat there in silence, pondering the offer. But after a while I finally decided.

"Ah, sure," I sighed before matching his smile and meet his eyes, "Why not?"

"What color would you like to play as?" He asked me, taking both red and blue ddakji as I stood up. He followed me almost immediately.

"Red, please." I said and he smiled as he handed me the red ddakji.

As I reached for the red one that he was handing me out, our hands touched. For a moment we both froze, but then I quickly took the ddakji and moved away.

It was so strange. The feeling I got when I touched his hand. It was as if some sort of electricity went straight through me, forcing me to quickly move away due to the shock of it all.

He cleared his throat before extending his right hand, pointing to the floor, "You gotta first, Miss."

I nodded, and with that, he placed the blue ddakji on the ground, and I stood over it. I took a stronger hold of the red ddakji and stood up more straight as I glared at the blue ddakji. Goodness, I haven't done this in years, I thought to myself, letting out a shaky breath.

I took a deep breath.

I could feel his eyes on me.

I swang my arm behind my head before powerfully striking his blue ddakji. Apparently, I must have done something wrong because his blue ddakji moved but did not flip over. I let out a sigh, looking kind of defeated.

He stepped forward, grabbed his blue ddakji, and stood back up. I moved away, giving him more space, his eyes folowing my every move. Almost immediately, he swang his arm behind his head, slaming his blue ddakji on my red one, flipping it over with ease. I sighed as he turned to look at me, teasing smile making it's way on his face.

"So..." I spoke up, kind of unsure and slightly intimidated, "So what now? I lost."

"Don't worry about money." He spoke up, kind of surprising me with that one, "We'll discuss it at the end if that is okay with you, Miss?"

"Sure." I answered him, meeting his eyes.

His smile widened a little bit more as we, for a few moments, just stood there taking each other in. All of a sudden, he cleared his throat, snapping himself out of it.

"One more round?" He asked as he fixed his tie, I nodded, not saying a word.

Turns out, one round meant about five more. I lost every single round. It truly began to seem like luck wasn't on my side that day.

We got to the last round, the sixth one. I was getting annoyed, constantly losing. I took a deep breath. His blue ddakji stared at me, my red one locked in my hand. I flipped my ddakji over and decided that that was it. I swang my hand behind my head and delivered the most powerful swing yet. I stared at his blue ddakji and my red one as both of them flipped in the air before his blue ddakji landed on the cold floor. It flipped over... I won...

I couldn't help the laugh that escaped my lips as he gave me a little applause, smiling as I jokingly bowed.

"Wow," I chuckled, "I finally won the round."

"Well done, Miss." He chuckled lowly, but somehow so softly as he reopened his suitcase handing me 100,000 won. "As promised."

"Thank you," I said, taking the money, "but I lost like five times. Tell me, what can I possibly give you to make this even."

"How about you give me the pleasure of taking you out for dinner, Miss?" He spoke up almost shyly in a way that was so endearing, and even though it seemed like that look wouldn't fit him, it somehow did. "Only if you want to, of course."

"I..." I spoke up stuttering and blushing a bit, surprised by his offer, "I would love to."

After that interesting interaction, we went out to get dinner. I had a great time with him, and even though I hated to admit it, I started to like him. We talked on and on about random things. We were truly having fun and that made my day so much better.

Before separating, he gifted me a blood red rose, and he gave me a card that looked really strange. At the front of the brownish card was a circle, a triangle, and a square. I flipped the card over and saw what looked like a telephone number.

"Miss, there are other games like the one that we played where you can make even more money than you did. So much more." He started to explain, but his expression became different. His smile was gone and there was a sort of gloomy gaze in his eyes. That seemed to surprise him. "Think about it."

He stepped closer to me, looked me deep in the eyes before he started to slowly lean in. I found myself doing the same. Our lips met. We were just standing there, outside of the restaurant, rose in my hand, his hands on my face deepening the kiss.

As we parted ways, he told me that he hoped to see me again if I made it. Whatever that meant.

I took another look at the card that he gave me, staring at the number, not knowing that I will meet my childhood friend Gi-hun, not knowing what the games will do to both of us and to all the other people, not knowing the amount of money I was gonna win, not knowing that I will spend the next three years of my life chasing the man of my life, trying to haunt him down, not knowing how dangerous the last game that we'll play will be.

TAGLIST:

@shadow-tumbler

#squid game #squid game s2 #squid game 2 #squid game salesman #squid game x reader #the salesman x reader #the salesman x fem!reader #the salesman #salesman x reader #salesman #ddakji #squid game gong yoo #gong ji cheol #gong yoo x reader #gong yoo #gong ji cheol x reader #fic #Spotify

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duck9irbl · 2 days ago

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Everything is numbers. Even nothing has a number. 1 thing can change everything. Perhaps it was a moment or a memory a single action or in action of someone or something. Did or didn't do or said or didn't say. 1 out of multiple what if's.

Just like right now 1 single thought overwhelming the mind. Covered in darkness the only light in the words...

To who they belong too or who is directed at are for now unknow until we get to peck into the shadows your a monster

We see 1 man standing what looks to be 1 bed containing 2 people. The people look asleep peaceful unaware. They seem to not know the man but he knows them. I can make this quick and easy

'The chose should be easy right?' He thinks to himself. But as he looks upset from his slight frown. Yet conflicted onto what to do with the furrow of his brow and scrunched up face. From the 2 bag under his eyes you can at least tell he's tired. Again looking down.

1 sentence yet again appeared in his mind. with all of my heart and every fiber of my very being

That 1 sentence again surrounded by darkness the only light the words itself. How could numbers change everything?

1 sickness, 1 boy who escaped being the 1 survivor, 1 offer that he took, 2 brothers with 2 different paths he both took. their just kids

That 1 boy got to grow up despite- because of two brothers. That one boy becoming 1 man staring back at the two brothers. He sits their and watches over the cover of the shadows watching- like he's waiting for something to show up- rather someone. The roles revered 1 man. 2 boys. 1 sword. 1 choice he has to make. That will change everything.

1 lived 1 died. That would stay the same one would live the other would die that much was the same but the question was? Witch brother? YOU

He looks again to what he see's now are not 2 brothers fighting, 2 brothers who picked different paths to different outcomes. But right now- right now he see's 2 brothers sleeping peaceful unaware of the danger that might come. 2 children who don't know any better.

Both kids look at him seemingly awake in shock but maybe thinks is just a bad dream. He doesn't move as to not alert his brother. Their both awake but the other doesn't know that Their just kids who don't know any better

Again that same sentence pops into his mind. Growing more upset, more bitter, more painful stronger and stronger each time. It doesn't stop itself after once no it goes again and again. The same 3 words the 1 sentence repeating again and again. I HATE YOU-! Why?

Like a mantra, a silent prayer, a plea, a beg- hoping to forget. It gets so loud so overwhelming it consumes your very being. You can't hear anything else, you can't feel anything else you can't see anything else. You can't think of anything else. You just want to get rid of it. For it to get off the face of this reality to go somewhere else- anywhere else. JUST GO AWAY-! I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOUI HATE YOUI HATE YOUI HATE YOUI HATE YOUI HATE YOUI HATE YOUI HATE YOUI HATE YOUI HATE YOUI HATE YOU

I HATE YOU-! it'd be so easy just to kill him

He snaps out of it with a turn of the children heads the cuddle close to each other as if trying to shield each other from this bad dream- this nightmare.

Then a thought came to mind 3 simple words so similar yet so different. Just like the two brothers. Both words each have 3 in them with the same amount of letters in each, both making 1 sentence. How can something so similar be so different?

He stares at the boys hate oozing off of his in a glare yet he can't bring himself to fully do it. His eyebrows furrowing as his eyes look distant. He looks lost. His eye bags looking darker than before as his decision finally puts the full weight on him. With those 3 distant words yet he wants to remember fondly.

I love you.

I hate you. I love you.

Both words holding so much meaning. He loves 1 of the brothers his farther figure the one who not only gave him a chance in life but a chance to love again. The other brother he hates. The monster who almost made him lose sight of how things truly were.

I love you. I hate you.

I hate you.

This supposed to be the right chose... right?

His face scrunches up as his eyebrows furrow even closer together. As as he allows himself to close his eyes to calm down to rethink onto what he's going to do. What he was gonna do. What he wanted to do. With the words echoing for now one last time.

I love him.

I hate him.

The words no longer in pure darkness with light surrounding them. Yet what frames the words is darkness.

I love him. I hate him.

Time travel swapped AU

Law and his incoming mental breakdown 🙃 He hates Doflamingo with burning passion but little Cora-san clearly loves him. What now?

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shortnspidey · 3 days ago

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CHAPTER ONE: ECHOS OF THE PAST

bucky barnes x fem!stark!reader || WC: 3.7K

A/N: In honor of Sebastian getting his first Golden Globe (which was long overdue), I present to you all the first chapter for this series! Thank you for all the love on this series before it was even published! This first chapter is really angsty, BUT there is certainly more to come! Dividers by @sister-lucifer <3

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The familiar hum of New York City quickly faded as you stepped into the quiet sanctuary of your apartment. It was a stark contrast to the bustling campus of MIT, a place that had once held so much promise. The weight of the past few months hung heavy on your shoulders as you let out a long, weary sigh. You had returned home, defeated and disillusioned.

The keys in your right hand felt heavy, almost like an invisible weight was pushing you down. You shook your head, trying to clear the fog of disappointment and frustration. The sense of relief from being back home was met with the bitter taste of unmet expectations. You had dreamed of making a mark, of proving to yourself and to everyone else that you belonged at one of the most prestigious institutions in the world.

Instead, you found yourself constantly questioning your place, your purpose, and your abilities. As you finally turned the key and stepped inside, the familiar surroundings offered a small comfort. However, that relief was short lived. What you didn't expect was to see your father, in the flesh, sitting in your living room. His presence felt like an additional weight on your already burdened shoulders, amplifying the emotions swirling inside you.

Choosing to ignore him, you walked past the living room and into your room. You could bet that he would be following close behind you not even a second later. Sure enough, as you settled to unpack the little clothes that lay in your suitcase, you heard his footsteps approaching. "F.R.I.D.A.Y told me you were back in New York," The stern voice of Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist or as you knew him, your father, interrupted behind you.

Letting out a sigh, you could practically feel the disappointment radiating off of him from your doorway. "Which I find very odd since it's nowhere near your winter break." You avoided eye contact as you fiddled with the items on your desk. "Funny enough, I gave a lecture at MIT and to my surprise my daughter was nowhere to be found. Especially since the academic advisor stopped me to inform me you haven't been attending classes for almost a month." God you wished he'd just get right to the point.

"Care to explain?" Not bothering to hide the nonchalance in your voice, you simply shrugged and mumbled, "Dropped out." The tension in the room was palpable, his silence spoke volumes, a mixture of disbelief and frustration hanging in the air. "Dropped out? What do you mean, you dropped out? You were doing so well." You could hear the strain in his voice, the effort it took to keep his emotions in check. “MIT was your dream, not mine.” His eyes widened, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of hurt cross his face.

You almost felt bad. Almost. "But you had everything going for you," He insisted, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at you with what you could only assume was utter disappointment. "The scholarships, internships, the many opportunities they offered… Why would you throw all that away?" You sighed, feeling the weight of his disappointment. "Because it wasn't making me happy," You replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I finally realized that I was living someone else's dream, not mine."

You had finally admitted it.

As you finally mustered the courage to confront him, a bruise blooming on his right eye suddenly stole your attention. The conversation about MIT, now seemed like the last thing on your mind. After what seemed like an eternity, you tried to gauge his expression, but came up short. "Well in that case," He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're grounded." Clenching your jaw you scoffed in disdain. "What the hell do you mean I'm grounded?" You spat, crossing you arms over your chest. "I don't think I stuttered." Tony rolled his eyes which only fueled your anger.

"I'm not five dad, I'm almost twenty-five, you can't ground me." You growled, digging your freshly manicured nails into your palm in frustration. "As your father, I believe that is one of the many privileges I still hold. You're clearly not thinking straight. You need time to reflect on your choices and figure out what you truly want." He looked at you with a mixture of worry and disappointment, his eyes searching for a way to reach you. "This isn't about punishment, it's about helping you." The more he talked, the angrier you became.

Of course, he was making this about him, as he somehow always seemed to do. Completely disregarding what you wanted, he continued to impose his will. The familiar feeling of being trapped under his expectations washed over you, instantly making your blood boil. "Helping me?" You echoed, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "You do realize that I just confessed that I don't want to go back to MIT, and instead of asking me why, you ground me instead. Real mature." You could feel the tears of frustration welling up, but you refused to let them fall.

You weren't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing that he had affected you. This was your life, your decision, and you were growing tired of being treated like a child. He opened his mouth to respond, but you cut him off, the words spilling out before you could find will to stop them. "You don't get it, do you? It's like you only hear what you want to hear. I’m not some kid who needs to be sheltered from the world. I need you to listen for once!" His expression hardened, and you could see the frustration creeping into his demeanor.

Taking his silence as a sign to continue, you pushed back your nerves and tears, and decided a different approach to somehow get your point across. "Can’t you see that I’m trying to figure things out on my own? Grounding me isn’t going to help me in any way." He sighed, and you could tell he was struggling to find the right words. Tony Stark may be the smartest and most successful man in the world, but he sure as hell didn't know how to express himself. In words, at least. "I just want what’s best for you," His voice softer now, was almost pleading.

It almost made you feel bad for yelling. "Then try trusting me for once," Your voice trembled with a mix of anger and desperation. "I'm tired of people not knowing my name, and only knowing me as 'Tony Stark's daughter'. You have to understand that, dad." The silence hung heavy between you, both of you staring at each other, the weight of unspoken words filling the room. You could feel the tension shifting, and for a brief moment, you wondered if he finally understood. After a pregnant pause, he suddenly found the words, just not the ones you were expecting.

"Well, I'm off, there's cheeseburgers in the kitchen." The casualness in his voice, as if the conversation hadn't happened made your frustration and anger resurface. "Just like that you're leaving," You scoffed in disbelief, but never the less expected it. This was typical of him, avoiding the deeper issues with a quick exit. "You really think cheeseburgers is going to make up for this?" You added, hoping for once in his life he was joking. Oh how wrong you were. “Settle in, watch movies, but do not leave this apartment under any circumstances.” He instructed, his tone firm as he moved toward the door.

"And if I leave?" You challenged, standing your ground as his hand hovered over the front door knob. He paused, his back to you. "Just remember I have eyes everywhere," Without so much as a final glance in your direction, he shut the door behind him. The thud echoed through the apartment, leaving you alone with your thoughts. As if on cue, your phone which laid abandoned in your bedroom went off startling you. Looking at the door one last time, you let out a huff, the frustration and disappointment evident in your breath. It was clear your father wasn't coming back.

With a resigned sigh, you turned and made your way to your bedroom. As soon as you picked up your phone, your heart dropped. Notifications filled the screen, each one more alarming than the last. You had been tagged in numerous social media posts, not to mention the messages from colleagues and acquaintances at MIT. Even Pepper had sent you a text regarding something called the Sokovia Accords. Your fingers trembled as you scrolled through the posts, the images and videos of chaos and destruction filling the screen. Your mind raced, trying to piece together what had happened while you were unaware.

Among the thread of messages, Pepper's stood out the most. "We need to talk. This is serious. Call me as soon as you can," it read. You could almost hear the urgency in her voice, and it made your stomach churn. You quickly dialed her number, your heart pounding in your chest as you waited for her to pick up. The phone rang twice before she answered. "Hey sweetheart, are you okay?" She asked, her voice filled with concern. "I don't know," You admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "What even are the Sokovia Accords?" You heard Pepper sighed on the other end of the line.

"It's a long story, but to put it in the simplest terms, it's a set of legal documents that will regulate the activities of enhanced individuals." You felt a cold chill run down your spine as Pepper explained the implications. The weight of the situation pressed down on you, and you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. "Just be careful, okay?" You nodded even if she couldn't see you. "I will, I love you." As she echoed those words back, you hung up. The world seemed to be against you today, because not even seconds after you set your phone down, there was a knock present at your door.

It made your heart drop, especially since no one knew you were back in New York. Slowly, you reached for the knife hidden by your bedside table, adrenaline coursing through your body as you slowly inched toward the front door. Your heart pounded in your chest as you approached the door. Taking a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. Peering through the peephole, you saw a shadowy figure standing just beyond the threshold, their features obscured by the dim hallway light. With your hand gripping the knife tightly, you cautiously unlocked the door, ready to defend yourself if necessary.

As the door creaked open, the figure stepped forward into the light, revealing a familiar face. "Uncle Clint," You breathed out immediately tackling the man in a hug. He instantly reciprocated, tightening his hold on you. “You ready to get the hell out of here, kid?” You couldn’t contain your smile, immediately nodding. Not needing anything else but your phone and keys, you locked your door following Clint down the steps. "Where are we going?" You asked, your curiosity piqued. "Germany," He replied nonchalantly making you stiffen momentarily.

Turning back as if sensing your unease, he gave you a reassuring smile. "I'm assuming you've heard the news about the Accords." You nodded, climbing into the passenger seat of his van as he unlocked it. "We just have to make a quick pitstop first." As you settled into the seat and the van roared to life, your thoughts instantly started racing. "What's the pitstop for?" You asked, trying to keep your voice steady. Clint glanced over at you, a smirk playing on his lips. "Just picking up some... backup," He said cryptically as the sense of anticipation grew as you wondered what lay ahead.

Arriving in Germany at the Leipzig-Halle Airport, it was safe to say you were a nervous wreck. Especially since the 'backup' Clint had meant was breaking Wanda Maximoff out of the Avengers Compound and picking up someone named Scott Lang. Thankfully, the witch had promised to stay out of your head so she couldn't read your inner turmoil. However, just by your body language, anyone could tell you were not 'okay'. "You okay, kid?" Clint's voice asked softly, his paternal instincts kicking in.

You managed a weak smile. "Yeah, just… thinking." The van's engine hummed softly as it entered the airport car garage, the dim lighting casting long shadows on the concrete walls. Clint raised a brow in your direction as the van entered the airport car garage, his eyes searching yours. "About what?" You hesitated, unsure of how to answer. "Everything," You finally admitted. "The Accords, my dad…" Clint nodded understandingly. "Yeah, it's a lot to take in." He paused, then added, "You don't have to do this, you know. You can still walk away." His words echoed in your head.

He was right, there was nothing stopping you from walking away, especially since your father was in support of the Accords. However, something about how he was willing to start a divide within his closest friends made you angry. Maybe it was because he had failed to hear you out, just as he had failed to hear Steve’s side of the argument. The memory of your father’s dismissive tone and the way he brushed off your concerns played over and over in your mind, fueling your decision. It was safe to say you had already made up your mind.

Turning in your seat, you gave Clint a smirk, a spark of defiance lighting up your eyes. "No chance in hell." His smile widened at your words, and he reached over to squeeze your hand. The van came to a sudden halt, jolting you slightly. Only then did you realize that Steve Rogers was a few feet away, his broad shoulders and familiar stance unmistakable. He had his back turned to you, deep in conversation with two other figures. "Does Steve know I'm here?" You asked, a mix of anticipation and apprehension threading through your voice.

"He does now," Clint shrugged, his tone casual but reassuring. "Here goes nothing" You mumbled to yourself as you unbuckled your seatbelt. "You know I wouldn't have called if I had any other choice," You heard Steve say to Clint as he extended his hand in a firm handshake. His voice was steady, but you could detect the underlying strain. Only then did his blue eyes find yours over Clint's shoulder. They widened slightly, a mix of surprise and relief washing over his features. "Y/N?" Steve breathed out, almost as if trying to decipher if you were real or not.

You lifted your hand in an awkward wave, finding the courage to step forward. Only, the super solider beat you to it. In two strides he was at your side, scooping you up into a much needed hug. His embrace was strong and warm, enveloping you in a sense of security you hadn't felt in a long time. You squeezed him back just as eagerly, hoping that through the hug you could tell him you were on his side. "It's so good to see you," He murmured into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "I just wish it was under different circumstances." You nodded, pulling back your eyes searching his face for any signs of the unease you knew he must be feeling.

"You know I've always got your back." You smiled, giving him a mock salute which made him laugh. "Nice to see you again, kid." You turned locking eyes with Sam Wilson who was giving you a teasing smile. "Hi Sam." You grinned, eyes landing on the figure standing beside him. Dressed in a red Henley, his posture was rigid, and his expression was guarded. "Y/N, this is Bucky." Steve introduced him, almost as if reading your mind. Bucky's intense gaze met yours, and for a moment, you felt a shiver run down your spine.

His eyes were a stormy blue, filled with a depth of experiences that seemed to weigh heavily on his shoulders. Despite his tough exterior, there was something about him that intrigued you, a vulnerability that was almost palpable. Here it comes. Bucky thought to himself watching as your eyes flickered with recognition. "You're Sergeant James Barnes," You couldn't help but feel a mix of awe and empathy for the man standing before you. Bucky nodded slowly, his expression softening just a fraction. "Just Bucky," He corrected gently, as if trying to distance himself from the past that still clung to him.

You offered a small, understanding smile. "It's an honor to meet you, Bucky. I've heard a lot about you." You could have sworn you saw his lip twitch into a faint smile, almost as if for a brief moment the walls he had built around himself seemed to lower. Steve cleared his throat, breaking the moment. "Thanks for having my back." He nodded towards Wanda who stood behind you with her arms crossed. "It was time to get off my ass." Her expression was one of casual indifference, but her eyes held a spark of determination. "It was time to get off my ass," She shrugged nonchalantly, her tone light but her commitment evident.

The corner of your mouth lifted into a smile at her straightforwardness. "How about our other recruit?" Steve questioned, turning his attention to Clint. His eyes met Steve's with a knowing look, and he gave a slight nod, signaling his readiness. "He's ready to go," He coaxed turning to open the sliding door of the van. "I had to put a little coffee in him, but he should be good." As Scott slowly blinked the sleep from his eyes, Wanda stepped in front of you, her stance protective, almost as if shielding you from his gaze. "What time zone is this?" You heard him huff, his voice gravelly and tinged with sleep as he climbed out of the van with Clint's encouragement.

You watched as his eyes widened when they landed on Steve, almost as if not believing Captain America himself was standing in front of him. His expression shifted from confusion to awe, his mouth slightly agape. "C-Captain America," He breathed out, the words barely more than a whisper. "Mr. Lang." Steve nodded politely, extending his hand out for him to shake. The gesture was calm and composed, a stark contrast to Scott's jittery excitement. "It's an honor," Scott beamed, his face lighting up with a wide grin as he proceeded to shake Steve’s hand longer than was deemed normal.

"Wow, this is awesome," You heard him mumble to himself. The awe in his voice was infectious, and you had to stifle a laugh as Steve and Sam shared a knowing look. "I know you too, you're great," He praised, turning to Wanda with an earnest smile. You saw her eyes light up, a genuine smile spreading across her face as she acknowledged his compliment. "Y/N Stark," His attention now shifted to you. "I'm a huge fan, your Mind-Weaver pitch was compelling. Should help a lot of people too." His words were sincere, and you could see the genuine appreciation in his eyes.

That was the first time you had heard someone acknowledge you as well as your work outside of being Tony Stark's daughter. It was a refreshing change, and you had to admit it felt good. A sense of pride swelled within you, and you couldn't help but smile back at him. Turning back to Steve, Scott nervously fiddled with his hands, his fingers twitching as he tried to gather his thoughts. "Uh, look, I want to say, I know you know a lot of super people, so thanks for thinking of me." He smiled appreciatively. "They tell you what we're up against?" Steve asked, his voice steady and calm.

"Something about some psycho assassins," Scott replied, his tone a mix of curiosity and concern. Steve nodded, his expression grim. "We're outside the law on this one, so if you come with us you're a wanted man," Steve warned, his eyes locking onto Scott's, ensuring he understood the full implications of joining their cause. "Yeah well, what else is new," Scott shrugged. "We should get moving." Bucky suggested, speaking up for the first time in a while. His voice was low but carried a sense of urgency. Clint nodded in agreement, his eyes scanning the room as if already planning their next move.

"Thanks to Y/N's help, we got a chopper lined up," He added, acknowledging the crucial role you played. Suddenly, a buzz emitted from the intercom, sharp and insistent, cutting through the tense atmosphere like a knife. It sounded urgent. "They're evacuating the airport." Bucky translated, his eyes narrowing as he processed the information. "Dad," You breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper. You picked at your nail polish, trying to distract yourself from the anxiety that was building up inside you, avoiding everyone's piercing gaze that seemed to bore into you, seeking answers.

After a moment of heavy silence, Steve seemed to mull over his options, his jaw clenched tightly. The tension in the room was almost palpable, each second stretching into an eternity. Finally, he made his decision. "Suit up," He commanded, his voice firm and resolute. You held your breath, suddenly feeling the realness of the situation wash over you like a cold wave. The gravity of what lay ahead settled in, and the room seemed to shrink as your heart pounded in your chest. This was it. You were officially going to face your dad in what very well might be the endgame.

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jemmo · 2 days ago

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I don’t think I’m gonna be able to put it into the right words, but I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to watch that final episode of miseinen. bc it is one thing to mention marriage in a show about two men in a country where that’s not legal; it’s one thing to mention it as an inevitable, as just a waiting game, and leave it there, just as it’s one thing to mention it as a fantasy, or as something a couple doesn’t need to prove or certify their feelings. it’s another thing to show, even for just a short 30 minute episode, what that waiting actually feels like, and the kind of feelings being in that no man’s land of wanting but not being able to have can bring up. bc i can’t think when ive ever seen a bl touch on it so explicitly, at least not off the top of my head, or at least not to the extent of dedicating a whole episode to that feeling. bc you really feel how complex and indescribable that feeling is for jin in that episode, and while it’s mixed with that still lingering fear of haruki leaving and one day suddenly not being there, you feel that it’s not just for that certainty that he wants to be married. he wants the whole package of it, because he truly loves haruki. he sees his friends have relationships and talk about marriage, he feels the pressure from his mom and the rest of the people around him to think about marriage. and that’s exactly the thing of it. it’s not just that he can’t get married, it’s the fact that he has to hide the fact he wants it, and hide his relationship altogether. it’s not simply just marriage, it fits into a wider thing of him initially accepting his queerness and now not knowing if or how he wants to share that with other people. it’s just like- i really don’t want to gush but holy fuck it’s just so excellently done. bc you feel how different it is from haruki too, and it goes back to their differences in upbringing, bc haruki, after the difficulties he’s gone through, now finds it easier to accept and share these things bc he’s never exactly had anyone that would be impacted by this, but not only does jin have people to tell, he’s also been raised to follow a very traditional path in life, the one with least resistance, which very much means marrying a woman and having children and all of that. and it’s not that he can’t accept that he won’t do that, bc we’ve seen throughout the show how he has always faced what he’s been told is right with the open mindedness to question whether it is right, or right to him. but we’ve also seen through the show that the people around him do not have that same openmindedness, it’s why he never shared his friendship with haruki with anyone and now doesn’t want to share his relationship. but what i want to stress most is that the show perfectly shows that it’s not black and white. he is not choosing not to say anything, but he’s also not forced to stay silent. you see the greyness not just bc the situation is nuanced, but also bc at the end of the day it’s a human making this decision, and a human does not simply take in inputs and output the right decision and stick by that. you see him want to say something, you see him pull back, you see him be resentful of the way things are but also learn to accept that that’s how they are at the moment. you just… you see him live through having that in his head and what it feels like on any particular day and it’s just so incredibly amazing and important to see that in a character. it feels so fucking human. and i didn’t expect to get so emotional over a special ep about marriage, esp bc ive never much cared for marriage, ive never found it necessary, but when you take the time to show that it’s what 2 characters want, dedicate a whole ep to showing it, instead of just using it as a default happy ending, well… it’s just the cherry on top to a show that’s been absolutely fucking phenomenal. i will stan this show till i die thank you very much.

#miseinen #our youth #I don’t know what else to say about this show other than bravo it’s incredible #ive kind of run out of words #but you know a show is good on a whole other level when it has someone like me getting emo over marriage

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lynnaredfield3383 · 3 days ago

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Not my characters. Aged up 21. Swearing. Established relationship. Angst.

Katsuki's voice came through the line.

“I won't be home the next couple nights.”

“OK. Be safe.”

Katsuki was suddenly alert. Your voice was normal, but your response was nothing he'd heard before or ever imagined you saying. Did you know? How could you know? As fear crept in and took hold of him, he lost control.

“Look you know what hero work takes, and I wish I could be there with you…”

“Kats, it's fine. Really.”

You chuckle genuinely, refusing to comfort or dispel his uneasiness.

“I can change shifts…”

Bakugo's palms were sweaty now, and his hands were beginning to spark with nervousness.

“I took a shift tonight, so it'd be pointless. Now go get the bad guys.”

There was a brief moment of silence before he spoke again.

“Shit. You mad?” Bakugo asked.

You laughed at this and it actually calmed him completely. He knew your genuine laughs, smiles, and tones. Knew them so well, but why until this very moment had he thought he was bored of those things, of you?

Mad had never crossed your mind. Hurt, disappointed, discouraged, and done. Sure. But you'd never been mad at him. Not for a second. Bakugo wasn't cheating on you, just flirting with some woman at his agency. Though you wish he'd tell you he was ready to move on, you weren't mad. Nor were you going to hold him back. You loved him too much for that.

“Never mad. Never.”

“O-okay. I'll see you tomorrow night then?”

“Not sure. Depends on the case tonight. You know how hero work is, Bakugo. Bye.”

Bakugo had been caught on the fact you used the same line he had regarding hero work, but then he swore loudly as he realized you'd used his last name.

“Fucking fuck! Shit!”

Bakugo called you back, but it went straight to voicemail. So he started running redialing every few seconds.

As soon as you'd said his last name you knew you'd fucked up. Which is why you already left the apt. You moved all your stuff from his place into your new place a week ago. As observant as he was, he hadn't noticed because he'd only been home once in the last 3 weeks. Just to shower and grab more stuff. As soon as you ended the call, you rushed to block him, knowing he would blow your phone up in moments. You'd left the letter a week ago when you cleaned the house top to bottom the way he liked it and hadn't been back since.

“You good?” Shinso, your current case partner asked.

“Yeah, let's go.”

Bakugo was on the floor of the kitchen hot tears flowing down his face as he held the letter tightly.

Bakugo, Sorry I couldn't keep you interested. Never thought we'd end up like this, but it's obvious you have feelings for that woman at your agency. I saw you & heard you two flirting the day I dropped your lunch off. It's okay. I'm glad you found someone that makes you smile and laugh like I used to. Move on, be free, and accept that there are no hard feelings. I didn't give you a heads up because I know you'll fight for us. I don't know why, especially since you've already moved on, but that's just who you are. You never fail. You didn't fail me or this relationship. You didn't. It was just time for us to move on, and that's OK. It happens. Wish you the best always, but you need to know I can't be friends with you right now. Maybe in a few months, but let's see how it goes. Be safe, be #1 & live your life with no regrets.

Y/N

#bakugo katuski #mha bakugo x reader #mha angst #mha #angst #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki bakugo x reader

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mrs-elsie-barnes · 1 day ago

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(Thunderbolts) I feel like it would be really funny. There's a x reader where Bucky had a wife, and she just walks in during one of their meetings, holding their kids and like "where the hell were you? All I need a frozen pizza and some diaper wipes."

And alexie teaches one of the kids their first word but it's not mama or dada. It's Gin.

Bucky is pulled away quickly for a mission, leaving you holding the babies...and worrying about your husband.

Warnings: 18+ for language, domestic fluff, Thunderbolts!Bucky before the film, Dad!Bucky, reader likes pineapple on her pizza, I feel this is something I need to warn for. I don't really write kids in fics normally and I've never written Alexi before so…please be kind! Rated F for fluff and K for kids.

A/N: thank you so much for this request! Not going to lie I'm nervous writing anything about Thunderbolts before it's out but Thunderbolts!Bucky does live rent free in my head. It's not exactly as you requested but I hope you still enjoy it anyway!

Padruga - female friend in Russian

Divider by @firefly-graphics & @saradika-graphics

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

Being married to Bucky Barnes was everything you'd dreamed about since the first time he'd strolled into your boutique and nervously asked if you had any gifts suitable for ex-assassins with limited wardrobes.

After a few hours searching for items he'd bought a new jacket for himself, black leather of course, and a smaller woman's jacket. Your heart had sunk, of course there was a woman already in his life. Tall, handsome, a rakish mop of hair flopping into his piercing blue eyes, she was a lucky lady.

Bucky had looked at you, those blue eyes looking straight into your soul, "it's for my sister, sort of, well, she's not my real sister, but she's like a - it's not for …I don't have a girlfriend."

"Oh, good." And then you kicked yourself for sounding so stupid. Bucky had given you the widest smile and written his number on a scrap of paper.

"Call me." He'd winked.

It was becoming harder to appreciate your luck when you were covered in bath water, probably the only shower you were likely to get unless Grant went to sleep quickly.

Bucky had been called out to an emergency meeting on his way to the store and as much as you loved his dedication and hard work you really, really, needed him to come home with the groceries.

You were running low on literally everything and you knew eventually you'd have to do a full shop, but now just the essentials would do. You couldn't have a repeat of lunch, hunting down some crackers, cheese and cucumbers sticks.

Distracted for a moment, Grant lined his rubber ducks up on the edge of the tub, splashing them in one by one.

"Look Mama!" He said, gleefully, "'dis one is Daddy!" He took the duck, left wing coloured in black, and made it dive into the heap of bubbles surrounding him.

"Well done, Sweetie!" You cooed, turning away quickly to hide a yawn and checking your phone.

Get your ass home or I'm ordering the pizza in instead

From the nice place

Get me some fries?

and I'm getting pineapple

Doll cmon now youre being cruel

It wasn't unusual for Bucky to keep his work secret, but he would normally be able to say when he was coming home. Perhaps it was really important.

Grant had just gone to sleep when the doorbell rang and you cringed, setting your pineapple heavy pizza down on the coffee table and pausing your movie.

There was a familiar silhouette in the frosted glass -

"Alexi, is everything okay?" The door swang wide open before you could even reach it. It had definitely been locked, but it was hard to keep any of the team out for long.

"Padruga! I am returning the small one." A very familiar mop of hair popped over Alexi's shoulder, face covered in cookie crumbs. For all that Grant was like you, Natalia was all Bucky, soft curls and sparkling blue eyes.

"Mommy!" She jumped from Alexi, landing heavily in your arms, "we went to Dairy Queen and I had two ice creams and one of those ice creams was vanilla and the other was choca-chol-choco-brown-extreme-blizzard-extreme."

You turned a cold eye on Alexi, "I thought we said park, dinner, home?"

"Ah how can I resist to spoiling the daughter of the Winter Soldier, if she wants extreme blizzard milk drinks I cannot say no." He shrugged, an indulgent smile peaking out of his beared.

"God," you rubbed a hand over your face. "She'll never sleep - Petal, can you go and get your pjs on please, I'll come up and help you do your teeth."

Natalia climbed the stairs quickly, sounding more like a herd of elephants than a four year old.

"Do you know what's going on with Bucky? I expected him home by now."

Alexi looked concerned, but didn't immediately start a tirade about the strength of the Winter Solider, so you felt reassured it couldn't be too serious.

"He is discussing planning with Wilson and his comrades. I have advised against it but he trusts the Captain and so we do too."

"We?"

"Yelena has been very helpful and is talking to the rest of the team. We will have a plan soon."

"So you're heading out for something?"

"Yes. I am sorry."

"Fuck."

"In Russian you can say, yebat, Mommy." Natalia's little voice floated over from the hallway and you cringed. Everytime she came back from spending time with Alexi or Yelena she seemed to have learnt a new Russian word, which wouldn't bother you, except they were almost always curse words.

"I'm all for her being bilingual, but could you maybe teach her how to say her favourite colour or something." You grouched.

"Sorry."

Alexi took a slice of pizza and left the address of the current discussions on a scrap of paper stuck to the fridge before vanishing in to the night again with the promise that you could "call anytime."

It had been two days since Bucky left on his bike to, "have a quick chat with the team, baby, don't worry, I'll swing by the store on the way home." And you were starting to move from slightly annoyed to a see-saw of furious and anxious.

He'd text a few times to let you know they hadn't left yet but the situation was complex, he'd be home very briefly before they left, just to see you and the kids, but other than that he was holed away for the foreseeable.

One week after Bucky left and you were truly stir crazy. There was only so many times you could have the same conversation with the other parents at the park before you lost your mind.

You really didn't care if Timmy or Charlie or whoever had cut their first tooth. All you cared about was what your husband was doing somewhere, anywhere, and when he'd be home safe in your arms.

It was 2am when the call came in, he was home, safe and unharmed, at the abandoned airstrip twenty miles past the town border. Yelena and Alexi were with him, also safe.

Grant was a heavy, floppy, weight in your arms as you buckled him into his car seat. But Natalia was wide awake and excited, clutching her bear to her chest and staring at the street lights in awe.

"I can't wait to see Daddy," she sighed, snuggling the top of the bear's head. You made sure to put his cologne on it, every day, while she was out at kindergarten, the same way you sprayed his pillow. So you'd both have a memory. Grant's blankie was the same and, still asleep, he pressed his chubby cheek into the cotton.

"I can't wait either, Petal, we'll be there soon."

You drove through the night, the darkness closing in around your car, streetlamps dwindling and stars appearing as you made it out of the town and towards the airstrip. There was a single plane looking almost abandoned, its tail at an angle, on the landing strip. But there was the faint glow of artificial light under the door of a metal supply shed beyond it.

You slowed the car, expecting there to be someone at the gate to the airstrip before remembering it had been closed a few years previously and there would be no one to care. It must have been a rough mission, to come back like this rather than through a real airport. It was normally Sam who let you know about his return and you could collect him from the big airport in the city or he'd appear in the night from some taxi or hire car.

You double checked to make sure the doors were locked on the car, the children dozing in the back. Grant was drooling on his blankie and Natalia, despite her assertion that she would "definitely certainly mostly stay awake until Daddy, Mommy" was bumping her head on the side of her car seat every time her eyes closed.

You stopped the car opposite the shed and flashed your lights, ready to drive off if they didn't flash back.

It went dark, then light, dark…light and the door opened. You put the handbrake on and jumped from the car, leaving the door flung open in your haste, and raced towards Bucky.

He dropped his duffle bag and swung you into his arms, latching around your waist and lifting you easily. His lips were chapped and there was the tang of blood when you pulled away from a cut on his upper lip. You cupped his face in your hands and inspected him as best you could in just the headlights.

"You're okay." You sighed, breathing him in, burying your face in his neck and squeezing your legs around his waist.

"I'm alright Doll, don't worry about me. Are you okay?" His voice was rough with sleep, his cheeks chapped with cold and he smelt faintly of fire which was disconcerting. But he was here, safe, holding you close.

"Glad you're back, baby." You smiled, kissing him again. It was amazing, even after all these years, ever though he'd been on a hundred missions. It still gave you butterflies every time he came back, not just that he returned at all, but that he came back to you.

Behind you came the sound of little fists banging on the windows.

"Daddy!" Natalia shouted and Bucky carried you, giggling, back to the car.

With practiced ease he unbuckled both children and held them close.

"My little monsters, have you been good for Mommy?"

"Yes!"

"No!" Grant giggled.

"Sounds about right." Bucky looked over Natalia's head and smiled again, soft and slow.

"I'm glad you're back." You repeated, "but if you ever take two weeks to 'pop to the store' again we're over." You wagged your finger teasingly.

"Don't worry, I got everything we needed." Bucky carried the children back to his duffle, shuffling them around so he could lumber back with everything in his arms. "Look in there."

You unzipped the bag and inside - a pack of wipes, a bottle of laundry soap and two frozen pizzas.

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